#I. want. to. sew. fancy. gloves. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astrowaffle · 5 months

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Wow you guys really seemed to like the steampunk AU, that post got way more attention than I was expecting, so here's some more information and stuff:

-The world is still like a videogame that they got trapped in but now it’s a steampunk adventure-y type game with circus elements

-The adventures are probably a bit different

-They’re probably more like, fantasy adventure video game style things with like puzzles and fighting? Idk I'm not a big gamer I've never actually played any steampunk video games. What are those like?

-Instead of circus tent, there is a big wagon thingy that I'll draw eventually

-there's still not much of a story and I'm not sure If there'll ever be

-I'd also kinda want to make some mini comics for this au but I suck at coming up with ideas :/

Pomni:

-She likes to craft things

-friends with Gangle and Ragatha

-still very anxious but less anxious then normal Pomni?

-has a very logical mind and is good at puzzling things together but also doesn’t do well under pressure and typically panics in stressful moments where these skills might be useful

-She can play the flute because flutes are good, they are the best instrument. (I am totally not biased just because I play the flute in marching band)

-My headcanon for regular Pomni is that she’s less anxious than she initially is in the pilot after getting used to things, like, beyond the anxiety, her actual personality is very cheery and friendly, also very logical, because idk it just fits her somehow? So yea, that headcanon also applies to this au

-but of course she is still an absolute nervous wreck because yes

-How else is she supposed to react in this situation

-also look at those fingerless gloves I want those

-the gears in her eyes turn when she is thinking

Gangle:

-Also likes crafting things

-friends with Pomni, Zooble, and Kinger

-she often borrows sewing needles from Ragatha to sew her comedy mask back together when it’s torn, and also constantly tries to craft new ones

-She really likes her boots

-I don’t blame her those are some nice boots

-Ok wait a minute what if that little wing bow thingy on her head is actually a pen/quill that she can use to write stuff?

-ooooooh yes I like that

Caine:

-✨monocle✨

-He can control the time of day with the clock that’s on his hat

-It’s a lot harder for him to heal injuries in this world, he can’t just instantly fix anything anymore it requires a bit more effort

-I’m doing this because I like when injury and pain and suffering

Bubble: um- idk it’s just bubble but now they’re a robot I guess

Kinger:

-ok but what if he had a collection of mechanical insects? Omg designing mechanical insects would be so fun-

-The clock that he wears is broken but he doesn’t notice. And Time is irrelevant anyways

-damn those gloves are fancy

-they probably feel really silky

-and his robe is also very silky because mmm good texture

Zooble:

-They are a robot now

-also a mechanic/inventor because nobody else is and somebody had to learn how to make new robot parts

-their right arm can go s t r e t c h

-bonds with Gangle over their hatred of Jax

-they’re also kinda protective over her

-I lowkey ship them (this ship is so underrated)

-No but seriously why do see zero art of this ship

- Zoob’s in denial about their feelings and still pretends not to care because they’ve had such a “I don’t give a shit about anything” attitude that suddenly developing feelings for someone has caught them off guard cause they suddenly are giving a shit about something and they don’t know how to handle it, But if Jax does anything to Gangle they will rush in to protect her in a heartbeat and just try to play it off as it just being because they don’t like Jax BUT WE ALL KNOW THE TRUTH ZOOBLE JUST CONFESS ALREADY-

-ok that got way too rambly let's just move on now

Jax:

-MY FAVORITE

-he likes shiny things

-He will collect those shiny things

-He also very fast because look at those LANKY RABBIT LEGS

-I mean technically that’s already cannon, did you see how fast he ran away after seeing abstracted kaufmo? He just z o o m e d outta there

-those keys on the chain are only a small portion of his collection

-his room is definitely full of weird steampunk knick knacks because yes

-He uses them to prank people

-the centipedes he has to scare/annoy Ragatha are mechanical

-I’m so excited to design mechanical centipedes I love bugs so much guys you have no idea I finally have an excuse to draw insects and maybe people will actually care because it’s fandom related now

-He does not like getting wet. At all. (this is also just a general headcanon for him but especially in this au)

-floofy

Ragatha:

-the seams of her fabric are prone to tearing so she always carries a needle and thread to sew herself back together. she's good at sewing

-My main headcannon for normal Ragatha is that her button eye is a parallel to an eye injury she had in real life before joining the circus, but in this AU she probably acquired the injury in this universe.

-she’s good at using tools and weapons but not in like, a mechanic sorta way like Zooble but in a defense sorta way

-like, she’s very kind and caring but also sorta tough and even though her body is good at falling apart, she knows how to use strategy to fight and um wait what would they even be fighting-

-idk I haven’t thought about that yet

-Gloinks?????

-do those exist in this au???

-wait it’s my au why am I asking this

-overall she is very, “tries to help everyone else and seems very tough on the outside but is prone to falling apart both physically and mentally but just gets good at quickly patching it up and ignoring it until it become too much for her to bear”

-pls help her she needs therapy

-they all need therapy

-I’m pretty sure we’ve all established that at this point

-but I’m just making sure you know that it’s still a consistent factor in this au

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eye-catching-tma-headcanons · 3 months

Note

1: Jon is genderqueer and their pronouns are: he/she/they

2: Annabelle runs a small store that sells knitted accessories called "Yarn-Wear"

3: Gerry is agender and his pronouns are he/him

4: Oliver wears white fishnet gloves when he wants to feel fancy

5: Both Jon and Martin know how to sew clothes

1: Jon dabbles in so much gender-fuckery and I aspire to be just like them

2: The mech is 70% spiders web and the softest most durable crap you’ve ever seen and felt

3: Much like Jon, I aspire to be more like Gerry

4: Oliver is so dapper no wonder he invokes such jealousy

5: They become the honorary grandparents of Somewhere Else, no matter their actual ages

33 notes · View notes

abhainnwhump · 1 month

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IMYM Chapter 24: A Night to Remember: Ribbon

<- Previous Chapter || Masterlist || Next Chapter ->

Ribbon worked on his new project. He figured out how to sew plushies and that became his new favorite thing to do. He worked on a bear. He was careful to sew the white star beads on, being sure not to prick himself. Sewing felt so normal and comforting.

Ribbon calmed down since the kidnapping and could finally relax. He didn’t cling to Nightmare. Well, he did, but not as much. He got back onto his routine with chores, calm activities, and love time with Nightmare. Ribbon didn’t even want to go outside because he was so scared of kidnapping.

Part of him heard the door open, but he was too focused on his project to register it. So hearing Nightmare’s smooth voice startled him. “It looks lovely, Ribbon. You truly have talent.”

Ribbon didn’t expect Nightmare’s voice and jumped. Nightmare chuckled. “I didn’t mean to scare you, my apologies.”

Ribbon pulled his string and chuckled. “It’s okay, Nighty! What did you want to ask me?” He pulled the bows on the waistband to make sure it would stay.

Nightmare watched him, rubbing his pointer finger and thumb together. “I have a business exchange in Mafiatale. I bought . . . something special and he told me to pick it up at a masquerade ball he’s attending. I want you to come with me, at least as an armpiece. There will be dancing and food, and it takes place at a nicely kept mansion."

“A party?” Ribbon looked up at Nightmare and set his supplies down. “But . . . I thought you didn’t want me to be exposed to anyone.”

“Only to people I don't like or trust. The monsters here I have more faith in. More, not entirely, but they won't kidnap you. And this is important. Very important, especially for you.” Nightmare held a hand out for Ribbon to take.

Ribbon took his hand and stood up, looking into Nightmare’s eye. He knew better than ever to turn down an order. He nodded, letting Nightmare caress his cheekbones. “Okay. Is there something in particular you want me to wear?”

Nightmare traced a hand down his body. “Nothing in particular, but I don’t want your body to be too exposed. Cover up. Oh, and include bits of gold to match my outfit.”

“Of course, Nighty!” Ribbon kissed his cheekbone. He had the perfect dress and necklace in mind. He was going to be so pretty for him!

==============================================================================

Ribbon had never been in a limo before. Nightmare said he was able to get one because of his associate. Ribbon liked the feeling of the leather seats and the view of the buildings zooming past. He rested his head on his gloved hand, Blossom leaned against his leg. Mafiatale was scary and dark, but also really cool. The random gunshots kept making him jump. Nightmare chuckled each time. Probably because he knew nothing could harm Ribbon while he was in the limo with him.

When he wasn’t looking out the window, Ribbon couldn’t take his eye lights off Nightmare. His high-collared silk shirt was black bordering dark teal. Across the left part of his chest were gold swirls and stitched symbols. A gold sash started at his right shoulder and ended at his waist.

Meanwhile, Ribbon’s outfit was the perfect mix of cutesy and fancy. He took Nightmare’s advice and had very little of his body shown. It was a soft white gown with a lacey layer over the bodice and leggings. Tight at the top and flowy waist down. He wore silky white gloves reaching his shoulders. He wore a choker with gold details like Nightmare’s outfit. Pinned to the back of his skull was a white bow.

Nightmare squeezed his gloved hand and kissed his cheek. “You look lovely, my little princess. It's a similar crowd to your show, they're going to love you.”

Ribbon blushed and nuzzled up to Nightmare, resting his head on his shoulder. Nightmare pulled him onto his lap. He kept petting his head, then he adjusted the bow on his head. Between the bumping of the limo and the soft pets from Nightmare, Ribbon could fall asleep if he wanted to. It was so cozy . . .

After another five minutes, the bumping finally stopped and Ribbon woke up. He looked around and his eyes immediately widened at the giant white mansion in the back. It was shiny with neat white landscaping surrounding a giant marble fountain. Ten lit lamps surrounded the sidewalk and made up for the black sky. The water looked clear and blue enough to drink. Some type of music and talking came from the inside. Nightmare took Ribbon by the waist and spoke something to the chauffeur. It was in another language that the doll didn’t understand. Italian maybe? That would make sense with Mafiatale.

Nightmare stepped out of the limousine and took Ribbon’s hand to help him out. Once Ribbon’s high heel touched the ground, he grabbed Nightmare to steady himself. The dark king chuckled. He squeezed his hand, then he walked up to the mansion, one tendril around Ribbon’s shoulders.

They stepped up to the entryway, Nightmare’s arm wrapped around his. He helped him balance on his high heels, even though Ribbon could handle them fine. He didn’t say it, but he liked how worried he was.

Nightmare stopped in front of the gigantic swirl-patterned doors. He turned to Ribbon and adjusted the choker on his neck, then he patted down his skirt.

Ribbon shook his head. He pulled his neck charm. “Nightmare, I look fine and you look great. You’re overthinking.”

“I know, but I want you to look perfect. Remember to curtsy and smile, show them you’re happy to be at my side. No talking to anyone unless I permit you to do so. I don’t want anyone . . . influencing you.”

“I am happy to be at your side. You know this! Just relax a bit, please.” The doll fixed his sash. It was slipping. “There. That’s better."

Nightmare smiled at him and pulled the door open. Ribbon shielded his eyes. It was bright, but pretty A blackish-blue theme ranged from the long rug on the floor to the walls. The bright part was the bright white lights on the ceiling. Nightmare talked to a guard in completely black clothes in the same weird language. The guard opened the bigger door. They walked through a short hall, and then they were at the party.

Golden chandelier lights shone down on a massive ballroom. The floor was made of orange and yellow tiles. Too loud, too bright, too big, too many people. Ribbon was immediately overwhelmed and overstimulated and clung tighter to his boyfriend. Not even being in the scarier and bigger AUs stressed him out this much. It was way more than his show! And the lights were dark

Nightmare’s tendril rested on his shoulder, protecting him. “Is this too much for you?"

Ribbon nodded his head. He didn't complain out loud because he didn't want to make Nightmare upset. He could have sworn everyone was staring at him, he had a bad feeling about this. But he felt better with Nightmare holding his hand. What could go wrong when he was here? Nightmare walked with him through the party and crowd. Ribbon listened to the whispers of people nearby. He took a deep calming breath. clinging onto Nightmare.

Nightmare grinned and ran his fingers down his skull. The gentle touch helped. “Shh, you’re fine. I’m here.”

Nightmare walked inside with Ribbon still on his arm. His heels clicked against the floor, people whispered about him. Nightmare nodded in greeting to people. Ribbon hated all the noise. He recognized a couple of people from when Nightmare made him sing in that club. Ribbon looked up at a platform in the back of the room, behind the stairs. Would he have to sing again? He shivered.

Nightmare pulled Ribbon ahead and stopped. He set his gaze on a monster, but Ribbon couldn’t see who, at least not well. But then they stepped out and held a hand out to Nightmare. “Lord Joku, it’s a pleasure. ”

Ribbon couldn’t figure out the monster’s accent. He was a fox with brownish-gray fur and sharp features. He sported a black suit vest over a white collared shirt. Ribbon liked how shiny his gold watch was. Pretty . . .

“So this is the little cutie you took under your wing, hm? Sorry, I couldn't make it to that show.” Warg looked him over. “My, you’re even cuter than how Nightmare described you. Especially those twinkling little eyes, they’re beautiful.” The fox reached a hand out to touch his face. The doll cringed with an awkward smile. He curtsied anyway.

Nightmare’s tendril swatted it away and shielded Ribbon. “If you prefer to leave with your spine intact, keep your filthy paws off him. No one is allowed to touch him without my permission, which you don’t have. I’m here for business only.”

Ribbon mouthed a ‘thank you’. Nightmare squeezed his hand tighter.

“Buzzkill,” Warg muttered. He fiddled with one of the pockets on his vest. His paw wrapped around something and he gave a sharp-toothed smile. “Anyways, if it’s business you want, it’s business you’re going to get.”

“Excellent.” The dark king turned to Ribbon. He looked back at the fox. “I’ll be back, there’s something I have to do first. Pardon me.” Nightmare took Ribbon by the hand and led him toward the staircase. He listened to the nearby crowds and voices.

“Aw, I recognize him."

“He almost looks like the fallen guardian."

“He’s so cute in that dress.”

“Oh great, the Lord of Negativity is in love."

Ribbon blushed in embarrassment, but something in him felt good. They were scared of Nightmare, and by extension scared of him. He moved closer to Nightmare as he climbed up one of the massive staircases. The thin shiny steps were tricky with his high heels. He looked down at the party and felt even bigger. He grinned wide.

Ribbon stepped onto the cream-colored balcony and set his arms on the chipped barrier. The sky was amazing, covered in glittery stars. He could still hear the party behind him, but it was mild background noise. Cold air blew on his face, but he didn’t mind. Nightmare held his tendrils up to intimate and scare off the few people on the balcony. Nightmare brought him into the corner between the balcony and the wall.

Nightmare pushed him into the corner and pinned him, blocking him with his tendrils. "I’m afraid I have to do this alone, my little doll. You must stand right here, don’t move a single step. I will return to you as soon as possible, then we can return to enjoying the party. I’ll dance with you and you can sing, okay?”

Ribbon’s eye sockets widened at the idea of being without him. “Why can’t I go with you? You said that we would spend the night together-"

Nightmare raised his right hand; Ribbon stopped talking. Nightmare set a hand on his pull string. “Believe me, I wish I could bring you along, but you will soon understand why I can not. Think of it as a . . . little game, see how long you can last without me. Also, you have permission to attack anyone who threatens to hurt you. If you manage this, you’ll receive a reward, understand? Good.” He took his sash off and wrapped it around him for a little warmth. He kissed his neck and left him on the balcony.

Ribbon was alone. Well, by definition, he was lonely. But he wasn't going to let Nightmare down. He stepped behind the massive curtain that hid between the wall and the balcony. That feeling of powerfulness faded without him. Oh, who was he kidding before? He was only strong when he had Nightmare to guard him! Ribbon hugged the sash. It smelt like Nightmare, bitter apple cider.

Calm down, it’s not a big deal. He’s just in another room. Maybe I should go downstairs and look for him? No, he’d be disappointed. Do as he says and stay here.

The doll looked off the balcony. The faint sound of sirens rang from the distance, along with some screaming. Music played from behind him. He couldn't feel Nightmare's negative aura, but he had to be close. Ribbon squeezed the sash. He stepped slightly out of the corner to see better. Being alone wasn't so bad!

The sounds of broken static cracked from next to him. “I’ve never seen a Sans in a stupid dress like that before. Who are you supposed to be?”

Nevermind.

Ribbon jumped back as he tried to see who was on his left. It was a skeleton with black bones like Nightmare. He wore a simple black suit with a bow tie matching the blue stripes on his face. ERROR signs and white particles danced around him. His right hand dangled a giant plastic cup of chocolate from the fountain. Something about this guy was familiar, but Ribbon couldn’t put his finger on it. It reminded him of someone you see as a background character in a dream.

“Wait, Ink? It’s you?” The stranger strode closer, his grin growing. Ribbon backed up. “I wastold Nightmare killed you, but I knew that was fake because of that doll plan he made. Huh, it actually worked. And they replaced you with Fresh. Ugh." He rolled his eyelights. Why did his voice glitch like that? "I heard about your funeral and stars above, you look ridiculous. Are you wearing perfume? I smell cherry blossoms.”

Ribbon’s instincts drove him to an uncomfortable curtsy. He trembled on his heels, but remembered he still had Blossom on him. He took the parasol off his back, remembering Nightmare's words. He knew it was a good idea to have an outfit that fit with Blossom! Ribbon leaned on his parasol as the point stabbed into the ground. He pulled his string. “Sir, I . . . I don’t know you. And I’m not allowed to talk to strangers. so please leave me alone.”

The skeleton stopped. His snicker turned into a full glitchy cackle. “Did you call me sir? And you curtsied? What happened to your voice? Holy stars, where do I even start? Did Nightmare wipe your memory or something? You know, that would actually explain a lot. My name is Error, and I’m your sworn enemy.”

He tried harder to place him, but his mind kept playing static. His mind offered him a blurry memory. Ribbon blew raspberries at him while he was sewing skeleton dolls. Why would he act that immature? Dolls would never do that. Frenemies, that’s what he and Error were. But he didn’t know why. Something to do with the AUs? Ribbon lit up. “Oh, now I remember you! I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you earlier. How have you been?”

“Eh, not too bad. It’s been easier to destroy AUs without you getting in the way. Dream and Core are still problems, but they're easier than you. Since when did you get so . . . polite? It's creepy." Error tilted his head. "Where did you get that dress? It doesn't look like the kind Nightmare got.

Ribbon smiled, relaxing his grip on Blossom. “Since I’ve been trained! Nightmare’s the best.” He spun around in his dress, giving Error a better view. “I made it myself! Nightmare taught me how to sew! But he gave me this choker, I didn't make that.”

Error broke into another laughing fit. Ribbon didn’t get what was so funny. “You’re joking, right? Nightmare is a dick, he wouldn't be so soft to teach you to sew. You gotta be lying, or you're that stupid. I can't believe you ate up everything he told you."

Ribbon gasped and covered his mouth. He didn’t care that he was laughing at him, but he was making fun of Nightmare! He tightened his grip Blossom and stormed up to Error. “He is not bad and I'm not lying! Be quiet! He is worth more than you will ever be! He is perfect!”

“Aw, did I offend you and your ‘boyfriend’?” Error’s mocking tone trailed off as he squinted at Ribbon. The doll sensed the suspicion, a look he remembered from back when he was bad and disobedient. Error reached into his pocket and took out a pair of red glasses. He put them on and looked at Ribbon again. “Wait a minute, you didn’t have a babyface before getting taken by Nightmare. Is that plastic surgery?” He stepped back and walked around him. “You’re a lot shorter too, which is impressive because I didn’t think you could get shorter. It’s like you exchanged your height for curves. What kind of workout is he putting you on?”

Ribbon didn’t know how to explain that. He kept his mouth shut and hoped Error would lose interest. He couldn’t make himself move either, he had Blossom, but he worried about something else. If he moved too much, Error would get more suspcious, which would make him more likely to find out, which would-

Error kept looking him over until pausing at his shoulder. “Hey, what’s this?” Error’s strings pulled away part of his dress to show off his silver stitches. Ribbon’s hand flew to cover them, but it was too late. Error’s strings traced over the thread. Ribbon fidgeted in his hold.

“Stop touching me! Please! I’m not allowed to talk about it! I’ll get in trouble! Get away from me!” Ribbon lifted Blossom and twirled, slicing Error across the face. “Stop! Stop, st-" His voice cut off when the string returned.

Error jumped back as Ribbon's voice cut. Error wasn't hurt badly. But with the way he pulled his hand from his cheekbone, he looked surprised Blossom was sharp. Calming down, Ribbon huffed and pulled his string, making his voice sound normal again. Error's eye's socket glitched over, he must have thought the charm was part of the choker. "What . . . what the hell?” He asked, mostly to himself.

“Error, that’s mine.”

To Ribbon’s relief, a familiar sludge-covered limb nudged his shoulder. He sighed and ran to Nightmare. Nightmare offered him a tendril to hug while his arms were crossed, glaring down at Error. The destroyer looked somewhere between baffled and uneasy. "There you are."

“Usually, I would say thank you for keeping an eye on him,” Nightmare said. “However, I could sense his fear from the basement, among a manor of other souls. To be fair, he’s easy to scare when alone, but there was no need to take advantage. Only I can do that.”

“Come on, I was having some fun. Look at him, he’s fine!” Error smiled, though it twitched. Ribbon trembled and whimpered. “I’ll admit it, you were right. I thought this idea of yours was stupid and would go horribly wrong. But you trained your toy well, I didn't even recognize him at first. I'd believe he was a doll if I didn't know.

Nightmare raised a browbone. “Toy? Now, where did you get an idea like that?”

Error watched Ribbon snuggle into his tendril with a smile of bliss and safety. His already stressed smile faded into a scowl. His browbones furrowed as he put two and two together. “Wait, you two aren’t actually dating, right? You told me you were going to fake it. anomaly four hundred forty-four, don’t give me that look. Tell me you two aren’t a thing.” His voice glitched more.

“We are!” Ribbon exclaimed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! I love him!"

Error’s amusement faded into dust. He stared at Nightmare like he wanted to punch him in the face and grind him into calamari. “That . . . is disgusting. And it violates our deal."

“Yes, we have feelings for each other, end of story.” Nightmare rolled his eye light. “Ribbon, we’re returning to the dance. I’ll stay by your side this time.”

Error growled. “Oh no, you’re not leaving until I get some real answers!” He clawed at his eye sockets until blue strings came out. He jerked his hand and the threads shot at Ribbon. Ribbon jumped into defense mode, but Nightmare pushed him aside. He blocked the strings with his tendrils.

“Nightlight, hold on! Let me give you a hand!”

Without turning around, Nightmare tapped his middle finger, pointer finger, and thumb together. Ribbon dropped to his knees, hands in his lap, still and silent. As a doll should.

Error froze, stunned. “What the actual- what is he, your dog?”

Error was so distracted, he didn’t see Nightmare slam a tendril into his ribs. He crashed into a pillar. The dark king raised his fist and brought it down on his chest. Error caught his hand and strangled him with his strings. Ribbon struggled between the urges to help and stay put and obey. He closed his eyes.

He didn't see what happened next, but he listened to their screaming, the punching, and the violence. Then everything went quiet. Ribbon kept his eyes closed until Nightmare pet him on the head. Ribbon gulped and looked him over. “Are you hurt? What happened to Error?"

Nightmare helped him stand. “Ah, no. But I appreciate the concern. I threw him off the balcony,” His tendrils brushed down Ribbon’s dress, which got dirty in the scuffle. “There, much better. Come along now.”

Ribbon tried to stand on his tiptoes and almost toppled off his heels. He couldn’t see Error anywhere. He couldn’t hear his glitching either. “Is he going to be okay?”

“That is none of our concern. Now come along. I won’t say it again.” Nightmare took the back of his skull and turned him around. He had a tight grip on his hand that would’ve hurt if Ribbon could feel it. Once they were back inside, he softened his hold and voice. “I apologize for my aggression. I was just worried he would damage you. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, he spooked me, that’s all.” Ribbon worried if that was the right thing to say. It didn’t hurt, but he still felt Error’s strings on his shoulder. Why was he acting so weird? His new body was better, but Error acted like it was nasty.

Nightmare must have sensed his emotions because he wrapped him in his tendrils. He pulled him close to his body and let Ribbon breathe. “Certain? You’re not considering anything, are you?

Ribbon cupped Nightmare’s cheekbones and kissed him, hoping to calm him down. “Nightmare, I belong to you. You know I belong to you, it’s in the contract and I have your mark on my chest, remember? No one will ever make me want to run away! Please don’t be upset.”

“I’m not upset.” Nightmare looked a bit calmer, but his body was still tense. “This is why I don’t take you out in public. You’re too easy to trick. Come on, we’re going back downstairs.”

Nightmare grabbed Ribbon by the hand and brought him back to the party. He looked behind himself as if Error was going to jump back and drag him to the Anti-Void.

By the time they got down there, a slow song started and the lights dimmed. Nightmare took his hand and kissed his knuckles. “May I have this dance, my lady?” he asked with a joking tone.

Ribbon smiled. “Yes, yes you may.”

Nightmare wrapped one arm around his waist and held hands with the other. He took the lead. “Just as we practiced now.”

The artist clenched his teeth to stop himself from grinning. Nightmare didn’t know about the extra practice he was taking on his own. His ballerina build made it easier to dance. Not that he couldn’t dance before, but he was lighter on his tiny plastic body.

They started a waltz. Nightmare swayed him across the floor. Ribbon made sure not to trip on his feet. It wasn’t like he was going to screw up, he was literally trained to dance in battle. He didn’t want to ruin things, especially when he was having so much fun. He gripped Nightmare’s hand tighter. Ribbon looked up at him as Nightmare’s twirled him around. It was scary at first, but this was turning into one of the best nights of his life.

Ribbon’s thoughts shifted back to Error. He looked at the balcony, then at the door. He gripped tighter to Nightmare's shoulders. Silly, Error wasn’t coming back, Nightmare took care of him! But still . . . something was on his mind.

“Nightlight? Can I ask you something?” Ribbon whispered against his chest. "Am I even allowed to talk right now?"

“You have my permission. Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, Error said something back there that was . . . kinda weird.”

Nightmare scowled and his grip tightened on his hand. “What did he tell you?”

“He said something like . . .” He made a bad impression of Error’s voice, “‘I’m surprised Nightmare hasn’t killed you yet'. Then he told me how stupid I was for ‘believing your lies’. I know he was trying to trick me, but I was still scared. I fought for you though!" He gulped before asking the big question. “Are you planning to kill me?”

Nightmare brought him in a low dip before pulling them back together and answering. “Error is dangerous. Erratic. Manipulative. Twisted. Emotionally unstable. A sociopath. You can’t rely on anything he says. I’m sorry you crossed paths with him at all. I should’ve never left you on your own, my mistake. Yes, I did visit him the day before our first date so I could ask for . . . advice. I may have made my intentions unclear, but no, I don’t plan to kill you. The mere opposite.” He booped his nasal bone. “I plan to keep you forever.”

Ribbon sighed in relief. He knew it. His love would never hurt him like that. Sounds like a good thing he could barely remember who Error was. He didn’t want to remember either. The artist knew he had a life before Nightmare, but the details turned blurrier each day. He didn’t care about his old life if Nightmare wasn’t in it. Stress off his mind, Ribbon relaxed and focused on dancing. He could autopilot after a while.

Left foot up, right foot back. Don’t let go of Nightmare. Ribbon closed his eyes and imagined them dancing like this a few years from new. His heart beat faster at the thought alone. He hoped Nightmare never got bored of him. Ribbon stood in his tiptoes and pecked Nightmare.

The rest of the party had no more attacks, so it was great. They spent most of it dancing, but they also had drinks and talked casually. Ribbon wasn’t allowed alcohol, so he had punch instead while Nightmare drank wine. Nightmare never let him leave his sight. He was always keeping a tendril around his waist, keeping an arm around his, holding his hand. He had a dreamy look in his eye whenever he stared at Ribbon, which made him feel lucky and important. Nightmare never looked at anyone else like that. He had a few more talks with associates of his. Ribbon kept silent during all of them, earning some praise for Nightmare about how good of a trainer he was. They told him Ribbon was a very well-behaved and quiet doll.

Nightmare decided to leave without announcing it. He wrapped an arm around Ribbon’s shoulders and led him out. Ribbon was dizzy from party fever, plus his social battery was low. When was the last time he was around that many people and not killing and or torturing them? It had to be almost a year ago.

He expected Nightmare to wait for the limo and use a portal to go back home, but then he took a turn. He held Ribbon’s wrist and walked with him to the back of the mansion, near the garden. Ribbon looked around in confusion. The flowers and plants were pretty, but he didn't get what was going on.

When Nightmare found a clearing, he slipped in front of Ribbon and put his hands on his shoulders. “Ribbon, we need to talk. I have something to ask you.”

The adrenaline in Ribbon dimmed down. He tried to figure out where he messed up at the party. Was he too loud? Too autonomous? Did he embarrass Nightmare? The doll lowered his head. “I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?"

“Oh on the contrary. You were excellent out there. Your dancing in particular impressed me, I didn’t know you could move like that.” Nightmare laughed to himself, which made Ribbon feel a lot better. “No, I wanted to discuss something else.” He turned around and walked a short bit.

“I understand we’ve been together for less than a year, but you have made such an impact on my life. I meant it that first night in Outertale when I said you’re special, even if it wasn't in the way I thought. You’ve affected me in a way no one else ever has. And I know I’ve improved youin more ways than one. I will be truthful, I’ve been debating this for several weeks, but now I know it’s the right time. After all, what’s a king without his queen?”

Ribbon didn’t have time to answer before Nightmare got down on one knee and took a small box out of his pocket. Slipping his thumb between the velvet lid, he opened it to a beautiful black ring. The dark band held the biggest and shiniest diamond Ribbon’s ever seen. Little blue particles and swirls glittered inside. “Ribbon Eve Adela, I vow to love you for all eternity. I’m offering every part of me in exchange for every piece of you. We’ll be the strongest love in a new multiverse, one of our own design. But before that, I need to ask. Will you marry me?”

If Ribbon still could, he would’ve vomited paint there and then. Besides that, he barely held back his excitement. “Yes! YES! A million times yes!” He threw himself at his new fiancé and they both fell backward. Nightmare groaned and Ribbon realized his mistake, he forgot about his positivity.

The doll muttered an apology and started to pull away, but Nightmare’s tendrils hugged him back. “No, don't pull back. I like your positive emotions. Stay here, don't worry.” He took Ribbon’s hand in his own. “Here, put it on.”

The dark king removed his right glove and slid the ring over his fourth finger. It fit like it was always meant to be there. Ribbon flexed his hand, reflecting the moonlight to make it shimmer even brighter.

“I love it! I love it, I love it!” Ribbon exclaimed. He leaned in and kissed Nightmare as a thank you. Nightmare didn’t mind returning it. Under the moon, he could’ve stayed there, kissing his soon-to-be husband forever.

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kariokiipeaches · 1 year

Text

GAH!

After 5 months of building, my Killer cosplay is finally DONE!

I give you - me!

I Commissioned the hoodie from someone I’ve bought from before - a great seller on Etsy named Simakaihoodies.

I asked about potentially making a Killer hoodie some months after I purchased her Red (UnderFell Sans) hoodie and ended up wearing it nearly everyday for 4 months straight (seen below).

I wanted to make it as close to canon Killer (owned by Rahafwabas) as a could, and she already had a great “faded blue” color cloth around from a previous Dust commission, so we went from there.

After that we went to what I’d like to see for a fur trim in a tan/cream-ish color, and upon not finding floof with the fibers as long as I’d like right away, nor the right shades, the hunt was on.

Some weeks later she stumbled upon the perfect option and was quick to sew it up and send it out.

It was STUPID HARD to find white basketball draw-string shorts with a thick black line down the sides WITH NOTHING ELSE ON IT.

I wanted NO other colors, NO designs, NO trim, NO mesh-y type holes, NO piping, NO huge logo, NO fancy stitching.

Plain.

White with black.

Shorts.

After a couple months I found em.

I ordered a pair of leather fingerless gloves, they didn’t fit, wrinkled awkwardly, so I tossed ‘em.

I went to the children’s section of the dollar store, bought a pack of knit gloves, and cut the tips off - perfect length!

Finding the right-shade-of-blue high-top canvas Converse in my size was NEAR IMPOSSIBLE too.

Either it was too expensive in pristine condition (which I DIDNT want), or leather (which I don’t think he’d wear), or the wrong size (my size is popular apparently so everything instantly sold), or was a flat-out wrong shade of blue.

C’mon, Killer wouldn’t care if his shoes are clean or not… his shoes would be beat-the-fuck-out, so I needed WORN ones.

I didn’t want to deal with stiff canvas.

I was probably gonna leave the laces untied to drag on the ground, so I didn’t care if they were clean or not.

I didn’t care about stains or scuffs.

BUT! They HAD to nearly match the faded blue of the hoodie - the canon Rahafwabas art shows they’re a similar color. One CANT be too much darker or lighter than the other.

After a couple months of searching, I found someone who LOVED their Converse enough to actually USE them before selling, AND they were the right shade.

I got ‘em for $16!

So Killers socks are slouchy, right?

All the Sanses socks are.

So I had to stretch mine out.

Apple juice bottle came in handy for that.

Incase you were wondering why that photo was in the collage up there, lol.

The SOUL!

The SOUL.

Killers target-shaped SOUL is a fuckin tap-light with 8 layers of cellophane glued on it.

THAT BITCH stressed me the fuck out building.

I TRIED to commission someone to make one.

Messaged a TON of people on Etsy about it, but no one could or would (some people said they were too busy cuz it was the Christmas season).

So I decided I had to make it myself.

Only I had to find the right-shade-of-red cellophane.

And I couldn’t just buy a single large sheet like I wanted. Stores (even online) only sell a massive pack.

So I just hung-out til it was the first week of February and stole some squares out of a Valentines Day decoration.

Hey - it worked, right?

It’s EIGHT. FUCKING. LAYERS.

To get this shade of red.

Exacto Knives, acetone, 3 special kinds of glue, and HOURS of tracing circular objects in my home, and it’s as good as I could get it for a first attempt.

I lucked-out when it came to the brightness of the damn tap-light. I NEEDED the light to be visible enough to tell it was on even in daylight (cuz, DUH, Killers SOUL always glows; not just in the dark!).

Mystique @lady-of-disdain helped A LOT on deciding some things when I couldn’t figure out a best option on my own. Her Killer knowledge and tastes match my own, so when stumped I chatted her up - this would have taken longer without her input.

So THANKS MYS *waves*

So it’s done, right?!

WRONG.

I need it to fuckin’ snow so I can take some damn pics.

BUT IT SNOWED YESTERDAY!!! Well. For a little bit.

So here I/he am/is!

It’s gonna snow again tomorrow, so I’m hooking up my camera remote to take better pictures - my tiny tripod with the camera timer was a fail, lol. That leaning pic came out way worse than anticipated, and that wrinkle-lump at the neck of the hood is really unbecoming in the chair photo. I’ll get some better ones this time and make a new post.

GO check out Simakaishoodies! Buy some Undertale! Buy some Delta Rune! Give her all the support and all your money!

And check out her Tumblr @simakai !!!

My next piece I commission will either be Mutt’s floor-length hoodie/duster from Fellswap (which is gonna be heavy as FUCK with all that fabric), or a Horror Sans hoodie (but I gotta find an effects-blood that won’t wash out, and study blood-spatter patterns and test ‘em out before I go and mark up any commissioned piece. Maybe I’ll use a real axe for the pattern to look legit, who knows).

In the meantime I’ll be work on completing Red’s outfit.

I still need a LOT for that guy, and finding the right-shade-of-yellow socks that will match the black shorts with yellow stripe, that’ll ALSO match the yellow in the hoodie is gonna be a headache.

Wish me luck!

#killer!sans #killer sans #utmv #undertale au #undertale #something new #bad sanses #undertale cosplay #cosplay #i made this!!#simakaihoodies #etsy commission #I need it to snow more

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dmagedgoods · 8 months

Note

aAAAUUUGH 1 and 2 for the BG3 act 1 ask thingy, tell us about your Tav tell ussssss

Ohhh nice! Thank you so much! Let’s start at the beginning, very good idea. 👀💕 1. Tell us about your Tav! Name, class and subclass, race, pronouns. Do you have a headcanon for where they're from? Their family? Are they a Dark Urge? Or did you choose an Origin Character? Was it an easy decision? (1) I usually have the most fun with games if I throw in one of my main OCs. Therefore, Dark Urge was not an option for me. (Not for round one that is, I may try it later though 👀). This time I picked Rowley. He’s been with me for around 11 years already and, to my own surprise, works greatly as Tav. Most games don’t allow enough unhinged madness or don’t have the needed kind of humor to play as him, but BG3 really hits the right tone to imagine him. I also didn’t have to change a lot about his story to make him fit the universe and premise. Rowley is a rogue and an assassin from Baldur’s Gate, half-elf, he/him. Originally, he was born in Red Larch. He and his twin brother are the sons of a human father and an elven mother (forest elf). She was a seamstress and dressmaker, their father a gambler and small criminal, and taught Rowley all his tricks at a very young age, mostly because the boy proved useful to him and had a natural talent for cheating, and lying, and theft. Rowley’s twin brother, on the other hand, was treated cruelly. Their father viewed him as worthless because he lacked Rowley’s talents (to get him money). His brother was calm, more withdrawn, drew, sewed, and wanted to become a dressmaker like his mother. His father often beat him and used him as an outlet for his aggression - the reason for a growing fierce hate Rowley developed against their father (and mother who never stepped in). When things became worse during their teenage years, Rowley took his twin brother and fled with him to protect him. 2. Was there something about the character creator that just couldn't capture your Character? Please tell us about their hair, facial hair, tattoos, piercings, disabilities, their trans or intersex body, or anything else you're comfortable sharing. There is a lot the creator wasn’t able to capture about Rowley and I only went for the face that came the closest. The flair is right (and I’m glad), details aren’t. His scar is wrong, his face appears a little too juvenile and the small character model isn’t tall enough while the tall character model too bulky for him. I would need something right in the middle. Anywayyy, here is a little description of him: Rowley is tall (183 cm) and lithe, fast, and dexterous, his body athletic though lean. A long scar leads from the corner of his upper lip upwards across his right cheek. There are more scars on his back, arms, hands, legs and almost every body part. He has sharp features, attentive eyes, the tip of his nose goes slightly upwards, his lips are relatively thin, but his mouth seems to be a touch too wide for his face. His insolent grin became his trademark. Furthermore, the scar makes it appear somewhat asymmetrical. His eyes are of a cold, stormy gray. He has short, straight hair, but it’s long enough to look wild and unruly. The dark ashen-blonde tone is cold but can look warmer in the sunlight. During missions and exploring, Rowley likes to wear leather: black coats with broad shoulders and cords and laces and belts and buckles, usually boots and gloves (sometimes fingerless). His style is practical but extra. In his spare time, he wears loose shirts with wide sleeves, mostly white, sometimes in bright colors, and dark simple pants. When the occasion allows it, he goes for more fancy fashion choices, eye-catching pieces fitting for a noble but casually worn and just the slightest bit loosened in this way or that to break with the etiquette. His ears are pierced in many places. He wears necklaces and bracelets of silvery metal and dark leather. His posture is confident and casual, very relaxed. He often has a provoking grin or mischievous smirk on his lips. His movements are smooth and graceful.

While he knows how to stay unseen when he wants to - and highly enjoys it -, he also likes to get attention by creating chaos or acting provoking and disrespectful. Here is a picture of him made in the game in comparison to the one I drew of him recently:

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #tav #my ocs #oc: rowley #ask games #dmagedtexts #my art

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years

Text

Mr. & Mrs.

A/N: Anon asked for a Mr. & Mrs. Smith AU, specifically the assassins/agents who don’t know the other’s professional identity. [Full disclosure I only ever saw this movie once, and I've adjusted...things.] This was a Steve Rogers request, but not gonna lie, I got heavy Lloyd Hansen vibes. Still using Steve as his name, but I think it works if you squint and say Lloyd has a cover identity. Lots of hand waving there. I have no idea how my brain twisted it into this, but here goes… Warnings: zero editing, action/violence kinda, implied smut. Word count: 1.7k

“We just have to make it to vacation,” you groan. “Please, let’s just try not to kill each other.”

Steve’s in a mood, nitpicking the nutritional value of the meal you absolutely did not slave over because you, too, work. He plunks down his wine glass and peeks through his lashes at you. “I know, honey. I know. Less than a week.” His smile is gooey with a steel edge.

Steve—what can you say?—he’s a specimen of human perfection, a personal trainer who’s so in-demand that you haven’t been on a trip away together in three and a half years, and that was your honeymoon. A workaholic by nature, Steve can’t help himself. He has to get every accolade at his gym, has to help every client, has to take every paid session. All times of day. It’s absurd, but he agreed, after weeks of you being the nagging bitch you never wanted to be, to a getaway, nice and far from here.

You need the break, too. You’ve worked yourself to the bone. Literally. You’re a seamstress by trade, fingers callused and numb to prove it.

“There’s a client event on Saturday,” Steve mutters, knowing full-well what he’s doing.

Now it’s your turn to put down your glass. “And you’re just telling me now? I thought we were going out.”

“Last minute. Very important people. I can’t miss it.”

“Well, let me check your suit. I know there’s a pulled stitch on that button-down—“

“I’m not wearing the pink one,” Steve chuckles. “Why are you always trying to get me in that thing?”

“It’s salmon,” you correct, “and you know that real men wear pink.”

“The blue will be fine. It’s not a fancy gig.” He twiddles his knife on the table, clearly done with the half-eaten food before him.

You met Steve at a self-defense class that he volunteered to teach at the Y half a decade ago. He was cute, and you were pretty distracted by his muscles. To your surprise, he offered you more lessons even though, or maybe because, you were the worst in the class. A different sort of power struggle came out of those sessions, but still there was a lot of sweating, a few bruises, and lots of screams. He’s…uh…good at his job, and it does pay well, just not ‘a week-long international trip’ well.

You’ve been working overtime, if you can call it that, for months to save up. Your—cough—job in fashion is highly specialized. You make protective ready wear for the city’s top mob bosses: bullet-proof three-button vests, blade resistant suits, and whole wardrobes. Of course, Steve doesn’t need to, or want to, know who you design and sew for; he calls it frilling about with the 1%.

Ironic. His job is to make the 1% feel like they can take on the 99% in hand-to-hand combat with lots of rules and a referee and padded gloves on. You respect what he does just as much as he respects what you do, which is to say he brings home money and so do you.

You both just have to make it to Tuesday.

Well, if he’s got to spend your date night schmoozing dudes, then you may as well get some work done. Old Bruno wants cruise wear for himself and his wife. Mr. B may be a portly sod, but at least his trophy wife offers you a fashionable challenge…and something to vaguely speak to your husband about, if he ever actually asks.

“Just the blue then,” you mutter back, pouring yourself more wine while Steve stares at your lips slowly wrapping the edge of the glass.

You two may have issues verbally communicating, but there are zero issues in the bedroom. He knows that. You know that. You’ll still make him wait until you're done sipping a lovely, juicy red.

Or not.

Steve pushes his chair out and stalks over to you, blue eyes fiery beneath those damn long lashes, and he kneels at your feet.

“The blue,” he repeats absently, knotting his fingers around your waistband. Yeah, he’s not in a waiting mood, and come to think of it, neither are you.

***

Steve hums in thought, rolling his thumb over the odd fabric the medical examiner studied from Tinker Boy Joe’s suit. The second-level goon of the city’s Family had only gone down after four agents pursued. Down to his felt—or what looked like felt—hat, Joe was untouchable. Bullets, knives, a random tranque-dart the Torres fired at him: nothing went through. It was only a somewhat lucky sniped shot from Bucky on a rooftop that had brought down the mobster. Clean through the throat.

Not exactly ideal when the whole point was to bring Tink here in alive, but Steve supposes one less criminal, one less crime at least.

“Where would he get something like this?”

“Ah,” Torres pipes in, sorting through a small stack of paperwork in his arms to hand Steve a file, “we have a CI who identified the shop they all frequent, but it’s unlikely the tailor works out of there. Most of the clientele are straight-laced anyway. Society types. It’s a decent cover for—“

“Anytime now,” Steve blurts.

The young agent snaps back to, rummaging and handing Steve a map from the pile. “Here,” he points. “CI says that’s the warehouse where it’s made. Abandoned sweatshop. Which is fitting.”

Steve sighs and tucks the info under his arm. “Let’s get a team together and hit it tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow?” Torres squeaks.

“Yeah.” Steve flings open the door, ready to get out of the morgue-scented white room. “I have vacation coming up. I want this squared away before then.”

Thank god he already gave you an excuse for date night.

***

The warehouse is, indeed, abandoned for the most part. Thick dust everywhere. Hap-hazardously tossed furniture piled in corners.

And then Steve hears music. He tries not to laugh at how random it is to be hearing your favorite song at a moment like this, but then again, you always like quite popular artists. It was bound to happen. They are expecting a team of women working under a master tailor, and their intel was right so far. Steve had a pair of agents watch the facility all day. Several women left in the afternoon. There are no other cars around, so it’s either empty or only one or two remain.

What Steve isn’t expecting when they bust the door open is a single person dressed in a baggy work smock with a hair net and mask on. He can’t even tell if it’s a man or woman. Torres screams freeze, and as the figure turns around, hands raising, his or her arm knocks the lone work lamp out of place and plunges most of the room into darkness.

Nobody fires a shot, not without light to see they aren’t shooting each other. Steve’s team is calling out prompts in the dark to let each other know who is where and if they have the tailor. He hears thuds and stunted cries from each man, not overly swift in the takedowns but efficient.

Steve can hear Torres bang the leg of a table and shout out which corner the person is trying to escape around, and Steve dives.

He knows the move used on him. He’s taught it hundreds of times before, but the strange part is that it’s a defense move generally for women. His body-weight is used against him, flinging him off-balance and into a door to the grass outside.

He falls to the ground, and the tailor tries to run past. Steve’s grip is tight grabs the lady’s ankle, her momentum pulling harshly at his stretched out arm.

She topples, body scraping back towards him in the grass when he doesn’t yield, knocking the mask on her face loose. There’s nothing but moonlight as she scrambles towards him. He can see…you?

What the fuck?

In his tactical gear, you can’t see his face, and he’s too stunned to form any words.

You’re searching, nails—no, scissors—scraping along bits of his kevlar until you find the seam you’re looking for and hit the blades into it with your other palm.

Goddamn, yikes, that hurts.

“Honey, OW!” Steve finally manages, but he can’t lower his arm without pushing the sewing sheers diagonally into his armpit. He can’t rip it out for fear of blood loss. He’s stuck but so is your face...on him.

“Oh,” you whine, sitting back on your heels. It takes you all of one second to process before the sounds of his team coming knock you back into action. You lean down to his face and give it a little pat.

“You should always let your wife dress you--” you stand up "--and don't count on dinner being ready when you get home." Then you rush off into the night.

Well…shit.

***

A few days later, Steve sidles up to his gate at the airport, ball cap pulled taut on his forehead and sunglasses already on. He rolls his bag behind him with the arm not in a soft sling.

You knew he’d come, so you let your smile broaden across your face. He’s wearing the salmon-colored shirt, his way of apologizing for underestimating you for years.

He tilts his head down at you. “Where you headed, miss?”

It’s all you can do not to giggle. “Somewhere without extradition.”

“I’m Steve, by the way—“ he doesn’t present a hand to shake because you stabbed him and it’s in a fucking sling “—I…train people…for a living.”

“Hi.” You introduce yourself and purposefully shove your hand forward, mocking him lightly. “I make clothes with very sharp sheers.”

Steve moans gently and licks his lips. He loves a bit of a game.

"That sounds very important," he drawls. You can tell he's staring even behind the shades.

The passengers are being called to board, and Steve looks around with a cheeky smirk.

“Any chance I could sit beside you?”

You think about it, dramatically. “I’d like that, but it’s a long flight. Hope we don’t try to kill each other on the way.”

For more works, check out my masterlist!

#ro answers #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers #steve x reader #fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #drabble #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen fanfiction #alternate universe #writing prompt #steve rogers fic #steve x you #fluff and romance #stabbing #stabbing is romantic right?

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anonymous-astronaut · 1 year

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How about a seasonal ask: The Mercs all put their names into a bucket (Spy checks carefully this time), and every one of them draws a name, only putting it back if it's their own name. The reason? The Administrator has ordered them to participate in a mandatory Secret Santa Exchange. Who winds up getting gifts for who, and what do they give each other?

Omg i love this idea! I’m gonna assign them to each other at random, let’s see how it goes!

Scout: He got Medic! This is a little frightening to him, Scout is low key scared of the doc and is a little worried the he might get his organs stolen if he doesn’t get the right gift. But on the bright side, at least he didn’t get Spy! Another plus is that Scout thinks Medic is super easy to think of gifts for, I mean the guy just likes doctor stuff a birds right?? Scout gives him a mug that says “#1 Boss” with the “Boss” scratched out in sharpie and replaced with “Doc”, and a caricature of Medic and his birds that Scout drew by hand. Medic finds these gifts hilarious, he pins the drawing up in his lab and uses the mug regularly.

Soldier: His Secret Santa is Scout! Soldier does not think for a single second about what Scout might actually want, he only thinks about what (in his own unique opinion) Scout needs. He thinks Scout is far too scrawny, so Soldier gets him a huge tub of protein powder or straight up leaves a whole ham shank in front Scout’s bedroom door. He also hade makes an America-themed baseball hat, which is the most thoughtful he can manage to be since Scout actually does wear that kind of hat. Scout tries his best to pretend he likes the gifts, but he’s a little unimpressed. You couldn’t catch him dead wearing the hat, except maybe on the 4th of July, but he will eat the ham shank (or hit something with it.)

Pyro: They got Engie! They are very excited about this, but also a little worried because they aren’t sure if their gift will be good enough. It’s not like they can get him engineering tools or something like that, because Engie either already has it or needs something so specific no one would know to get it for him. Instead, Pyro decides to hand-decorate some cookies for him. The cookies range from snowflakes to unicorns to flames, even a little mini sentry. Engie loves it, he thoroughly enjoys savoring the cookies when he winds down each afternoon, and he thinks the decorations are right cute.

Demo: Demo drew Spy’s name, and he thinks of it as a sort of fun holiday challenge for himself. He knows he could just get a bottle of wine for the guy and call it a day, but he wants Spy to be surprised and impressed with his gift and knows that cheap wine won’t cut it. Demo does his research, he figures out which brands Spy prefers and gets him a new pair of gloves, a fancy lighter, and imported French Cognac. It’s pricey, but it’s worth it to see Spy genuinely shocked that the gifts are up to his standards.

Heavy: Heavy got Pyro and honestly, he is stumped on what to do. The only thing he really knows about Pyro is that they love fire, but he can’t think of a reasonable or responsible way to turn that into a gift. He’s pretty sure they like unicorns and stuff like that, and he does know how to sew, so he decides to make them a stuffed animal out of fire resistant fabric. It’s hard to sew and is very stiff for a plushy, but Pyro absolutely loves it so Heavy considers it a success.

Engie: Engie drew Soldiers name. At first he thinks it’ll be a piece of cake, Soldier isn’t exactly quiet about his likes and dislikes. But the more Engie thinks about it, the more he realizes how hard it is to think of a good gift. Ends up getting him something super practical, like a new razor or supplies for cleaning out his rocket launcher. Despite the fact that it’s wrapped, Soldier doesn’t realize it’s a gift and thinks it’s just a weird supply drop.

Medic: The doc got Sniper. He honestly doesn’t put a lot of thought into it, in Medic’s mind he has better things to do than worry about what present to get. Plus, he knows Sniper is pretty reasonable and won’t have a fit about it if he doesn’t love the gift. Sniper gets a six pack of hard cider and some store-bought Stollen with a bow slapped on it left outside he’s camper door. Sniper thinks that’s a pretty sweet deal, you won’t catch him complaining.

Sniper: He got Heavy. He wishes he knew more about the guy, but figures he can come up with something good anyway. He gets him some quality chocolate and a warm hat cause he figures Heavy’s bald-ass head gets cold in the snow. If he finds the time, he whittles a little ornament of Sasha out of wood. Heavy appreciates it, he especially enjoys the chocolate and is very impressed with the ornament.

Spy: He got Demo (it was completely a coincidence that they got each other lol.) Spy has absolutely no idea what to get him. Giving him alcohol seems like the obvious answer, but he has no idea what Demo drinks and doubts he could stomach purchasing such low quality liquor anyway. After a little consideration he ends up getting him a fancy and stylish Sporran. Demo definitely wasn’t expecting that, but he thinks it’s great fun and immediately gets out his kilt to try it on.

#tf2 #tf2 headcanons #secret santa

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dreams-of-sirius · 1 year

Text

Fluffy Christmas Headcanons with the Arcana Twilight Boys

I thought of these headcanons with @yanjam. You have her to thank for some of the ideas in this.

Arcturus

He would be really into the Christmas spirit. He would play Christmas music in November and December and wear Christmas socks around campus.

He is busy making preparations for the Fili Pfeper Christmas Banquet, so he’s a bit hurried, but still takes the time to pencil in time with you.

He would invite you to bake with him, so you guys end up bonding when making gingerbread cookies and peppermint bark.

Expect hot chocolate for the cold wintry evenings when you are both doing homework.

Expect a gift on Christmas day, no matter how much you insist you don’t need presents. He would probably buy you a Christmas sweater or something similarly festive.

Blushy Arcturus, giggly because of the spiked eggnog at the Christmas Banquet.

Alpheratz

Not a huge Christmas person, but doesn’t hate it either.

Actually prefer the colder weather since it means he can wear more layers and a coat.

He would have to spend time with his extended family during the holidays and no matter how he rolls his eyes about it and comments it's a drag, he’s still pretty booked with making preparations. He tries to get out of it, of course, but to no avail.

He grumbles and complains about you insisting to pick out a tree with him. That doesn’t stop him from coming with you and helping you carry and decorate the tree though.

Would bring you to restaurants that are selling Christmas-themed food. He would make an outing of it, taking you out on a tour of Bound Arlyn as he does so, which is beautiful in Christmas time.

Would spoil you with gifts, then act like it was nothing.

If you asked him to, he would help you cook/bake things for the Christmas season. He’s not very good at it and its a bit messy afterwards, but he admits that the food was worth it.

Would drink lots of spiked eggnog, only for it to not affect him.

Pollux

He’s really bad at baking, but really enthusiastic about it. Flour gets everywhere, but the end of it you have a tray of rather amateur-looking but still delicious Christmas cookies.

When you enter a store, he would hum along with the Christmas song playing overhead.

Christmas carousing! He was persuaded to do it because of Sirius, but genuinely enjoys it by the end.

Pollux would totally make little handmade gifts for everyone. It can be a bit messy, but you can tell he put a lot of effort into it.

Expect snow ball fights and making snow angels and snow men with him.

He would want to watch Christmas movies with you!

When you buy him expensive fabric for his sewing projects, he makes gloves and hats out of them. Gives them to MC. He gets super feral about you wearing stuff he made.

Sirius

Sirius would invite you to see Christmas-themed plays. If it goes well, he might take you out to a fancy dinner afterward.

Carries mistletoe in his pocket and then calls you to come to the committee room. He places the mistletoe on the door frame. However, instead of you, Spica walks through the doorway first. You pursue them both, insisting that now they have to kiss.

If you insist on cooking/baking with him, expect him to tease you about getting flour in your face. Would insist on making fancy desserts or desserts with unusual flavor profiles.

Will take you out Christmas shopping at night because of the lights and decorations. Expect the thing that you were fixated on to be a gift he buys you when you are not looking.

Totally the type to buy you an expensive dress or coat as a gift.

When you get him some licorice-flavored wine, he really treasures it and saves it for a special occasion.

Spica

Would invite everyone on the committee to a fancy dinner in his family estate.

If you invite him to bake with you for the holidays, he would stick close to the recipes and be very precise. His decoration work is like those of a master chef.

Would probably buy you some expensive jewellery as his present.

Hear me out, so I have this headcanon that Spica is actually really good at ice skating? So he will take you out to ice skating rink as an outing. If you’re still learning, he’ll be super patient teacher. If you trip and start to fall, he totally would pull you atop himself to break your fall,

Prefers to drink mulled wine at events.

If you ask him if he did his Christmas shopping, he’ll reveal that he bought gifts earlier on in the year, when there were sales and deals.

Expect his presents to be beautifully wrapped.

When you gift him a special holiday coffee bean mix, you later see Spica arguing with Sirius because he’s mad he drank from his special blend.

#arcana twilight #arcana twilight arcturus #arcana twilight alpheratz #arcana twilight pollux #arcana twilight sirius #arcana twilight spica

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shaping-up-to-be · 1 year

Text

fun facts about my sidestep bc i could ramble about her for hours. Feel free to share about your sidestep too!!!

Name: Brin

Villain Name: Retribution

Ethnicity: Korean

Gender: Woman

Appearance:

Short, straight black hair with bangs that ends above her eyes but it's a little longer on the back. Pale skin. She has an androgynous, tired, expressionless look to her most of the time. Around 5'5.

Her villain suit is all black with reflective armor and helmet. She has a simple sense of style - she doesn’t like to be super extravagant, even when she’s playing the villain. She likes to keep things simple and mysterious.

Her civilian style is more on the grunge side - oversized leather jackets (she specifically uses the same one over and over even though it has many rips that she–unsuccessfully–sewed closed), straight leg/baggy pants, tight-fitting turtleneck tops, boots, dark colors, leather gloves, etc. If she's feeling extra fancy, she likes to dress in a long sleeve maxi dress, long boots and heels, and those lace/velvet long gloves.

Personality:

She’s very calculated, cautious, and meticulous. Easily fixated/Perfectionist. She’s become very apathetic in retribution. She plans and plans and plans till she has her actions memorized to the last detail. In her hero sidestep days, she kept to herself (only opening up to Ortega) because she felt rejected by everyone else, especially Chen. She very much dislikes Chen, and very much uses him as an anger punching bag. Her relationship with him is complicated–although she resents him, she craves his validation. If she can convince Chen she's valuable and 'human', then maybe she really does belong? (Her logic is a little bit messed up here).

Very much in love with Ortega. She likes when he takes control and takes care of her, even though she can be a little mean sometimes. She's still quiet and reserved, but even though she doesn't want to admit it, she loves physical touch from him (holding hands, cuddling, combing fingers through each other's hair, kissing, etc) -- this is her main way of communicating with him when she doesn't want to say things out loud/admit anything.

She also likes Herlad very much ... buuuut it's a bit complicated. Herald reminds her of Ortega because of the care Herlad has for Brin. There is no history or unnecessary baggage. No traumatic memories or resentment. It makes her feel like a high schooler in love - all the giddy feelings and butterflies. She also likes the control/influence she has over him. Ortega is hard to lie to, but Herlad is too trusting for his own good. She's the dominant one in the relationship (so very different from her relationship with Ortega).

She dislikes Lady Argent and low-key wants to get rid of her. She views her as a thorn in her side. Brin does not care about their rivalry and just wants to defeat her already. Since she's very cautious and careful, she hates that Argent can be unpredictable.

She’s a killer, but only when it makes the most “logical sense”. If someone she doesn’t know gets in the way, even civilians, she prioritizes her plans over their life (ex. during her fight with blaze she didn’t want to ruin her suit bc it would jeopardize her plans, so the logical step would be to just move out of the way and let the civilian die). She’s very apathetic to this, but she doesn’t seek to kill more than “necessary”. She also feels justified because they would never save her (or so she thinks), so why should she save them?

Her fighting style is like her personality. Calculated. Straight to the point. She doesn’t like to have much banter, only when she personally knows the target. So when she’s fighting someone ‘irrelevant’ she does not hesitate, wants to get the job done quick, no showy-ness or big performance. She’s also not above being a little sneaky/trick her opponent. She doesn’t believe in the “fair fight” BS (cough cough lady Argent). Who cares about honor or reputation if you’re a villain anyway?

Rarely drinks. Likes to keep her mind on guard and aware at all times. She does smoke though.

I imagine her voice to be like Jasmin Rodgers & aesthetic / overall vibe to be like bôa (linked above).

Snippets from my pinterest folder for my sidestep^

#fallen hero retribution #fallen hero rebirth #sidestep #interactive fiction #mc oc #Spotify

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thxrnking · 1 year

Text

Imperfect - Chapter 5: Regret

Content warning: depiction of physical and emotional abuse from a parent, someone is grabbed by the neck and threatened, mentions of blood

[Imperfect Masterlist]

Author’s Note - Jack is 18. Wanderlust is older 18/early 19. Jack does not wear gloves yet.

----

Jack reaches across his body before spinning, dropping his foot and thrusting his hand into the air, radiating confidence. Wanderlust gently claps his hands being careful not to make too much noise. You never know who might be listening. Jack steps back slightly before bending at the waist in a slight bow.

“Much better,” The Prince wears a small black capelet over one shoulder, with a gold edge and simple detailing similar to that on the Traveler’s cloak. On his head rests a crown that his parents apparently told him to never take off, “You’ve been practising.”

Jack smiles. He has. Not as much as he wishes he could but he’s tried. Every spare moment, each brief reprieve, Jack takes a deep breath and gives in to the itching that’s tugged on his fingertips for as long as he can remember. The urge to Dance that was pushed so far down that it hadn’t even occurred to him to wonder what it was.

Every word he’s never spoken, that’s what Wanderlust had said. Jack still isn’t entirely convinced. He’s been silent for over ten years by this point. That’s a lot of words. A lot of pain and anguish that’s gone unspoken. And Dancing can supposedly help him let it all out. Still, he’ll admit that there’s something about giving in to that itch that gives Jack some peace. Like that first breath of air after hiding under the covers for too long.

“I should probably go,” Wander admits, slowly pushing himself to his feet, “She’ll no doubt be here any minute. Make sure you hide your present.”

Jack gives a slight smirk. Wander’s gift to him sits on the floor, out of the way so it won’t get trampled but still in direct sight. A black box with ornate gold detailing around the edges, and across where the lid meets the box. It’s not overly large, maybe three and a half inches by ten. A music box, it’s big enough to hold the melodic mechanism that plays when you open it, but small enough and fancy enough that it should easily blend in with the other things in Jack’s room. She’ll never even notice it.

On his feet now, Wanderlust dusts himself down.

“And think about what I said.”

Jack grimaces, but nods.

Wanderlust wants him to leave. To pack his things up and leave Swan Tower. Just go. Where? Anywhere but here. Wander swears that there are plenty of people across the Danceverse who would help him find somewhere new to live, and anything would be better than staying here.

It’s definitely something that Jack’s thought before but he doesn’t know. Swan Tower is awful, but this is his home. He’s lived here his entire life. Never been anywhere else, not even to visit. Then even if he does leave, he’s the son of the Night Swan. Who would ever want to help him?

Wanderlust raises his hand, opening a portal before turning to Jack and giving his signature bow. Jack smiles, bowing his head in return.

“Until next time.” Wander promises as he steps backwards passing through the portal.

The portal sews itself shut, revealing Mother stood in the doorway, glaring at her son. Jack freezes, a pit opening in his stomach and swallowing the joy that had been there a moment before.

Fuck.

Jack’s eyes flit to his gift without even thinking. Her cold, steely gaze follows, clocking the box and she scowls. It’s just now striking Jack how similar the gold detailing is to Wanderlust’s cape.

Oh fuck.

“I’ve told you about leaving things on the floor. Pick it up.”

She doesn’t shout, there’s no need, her voice icy and sharp as she grits her anger through a tight jaw. Jack doesn’t wait to be told again, snatching it from the floor and stepping away. He grips it tight, protectively, holding it as close to his chest as he can.

Mother moves into the room, her entrance slow, purposeful; never taking her eyes from him as she steps. She says nothing, the silence dragging through the air like nails, deliberate and meant to make him sweat. He knows what she saw. she knows what he’s done.

“You have always tested my patience, Jack. Despite my continued grace with you, you’ve always been such a...” she stops, tapping her chin thoughtfully as she searches for the word. “Disappointment.”

Jack’s fingers go white as he grips his gift tighter. He’s not a disappointment.

“Frankly I would have done something about it long ago, but there are certain lines that draw the wrong kind of attention when you cross them. Particularly when it comes to children.”

Uncrossable lines that apparently don’t include not hitting your child when he does something you don’t like. Nor isolating your child from the rest of the Danceverse. Not even the constant threat of finally making him understand how grateful he should be that you don’t beat him senseless more often than you already do.

“But not any more.”

Mother turns to him, stepping towards him as she reaches forward, her fingers curling under Jack’s chin as she tilts it upwards, exposing his neck. Jack doesn’t fight her, allowing her to guide him as her fingers brush along his jaw. She shifts dragging the tips of her metal talons down his necks.

“I could kill you now,” she tilts her head, the slightest smile teasing at the edge of her lips as her fingers pause, metal grazing the skin just above his jugular, “You’d be dead before you hit the floor and no one would care.”

Panicked, Jack tries to move but her thumb curls round his neck and she tightens her hold. The tips of the talons begin to dig into his neck, his throat tightening as she squeezes. Jack tries to keep breathing, heavy, panicked, choking a little but Mother doesn’t care, as long as he’s listening.

“You’re not innocent. You’re not a bystander in all this.” Her words are dripping with venom as she speaks, grip tight, anger growing. “You are my son!”

She spits the words in his face before drawing back, dropping her hold. Jack takes his chance, stepping back, one hand flying to his throat as he coughs and splutters. No blood; not even a scratch. A miracle since he’d seen those claws do much worse with less effort.

“Count yourself lucky that you’re of no use to me dead.”

Jack’s chest is heaving, his head thudding, adrenaline pulsing through his body. Mother doesn’t care. He’s nothing but a tool to her. A means to make her life better, as long as he does as he’s told. Without her purpose for him, she would have killed him.

The box in his hands catches the light, the gold detail glinting and Jack remembers. Mother doesn’t care, but Wanderlust does. Someone out in the Danceverse cares about him, and he’s the Prince, of all people. Mother doesn’t care, but Mother is wrong.

Determination sets on Jack’s face as he stands up again, refusing to let her see how deep her words can cut. Mother is unbothered, her eyes slowly drifting to the box again also.

“It is rather beautiful,” she admits, regarding the box with admiration. She reaches for it, holding back from actually touching it, “He has good taste.”

Seconds pound past as the two of them stand painfully close, her cruel fingers so close to touching Jack’s gift. Jack’s heart is pounding in his ears, honestly clueless what either of them might be about to do.

Eventually Mother pulls away, pinning Jack with a fierce glare before turning on her heel and heading for the door. There’s barely enough time to let free the breath Jack didn’t even realise he’s been holding, before she turns. She thrusts a hand at him unleashing a large hellish-black blast of magic straight at him.

Less than an instant. It hits. The box shatters. Thousands of pieces explode in Jack’s hands. Wood. Metal. The blast tears through the box as though it isn’t there and hits Jack square in the chest. No time to brace. No time to think. Jack hits the floor, landing on his back with a harsh thud.

Pain. Searing, blinding pain overwhelms him. Over a thousand pieces of splintered wood and hot metal make short work of his hands. So many cuts and burns, his hands have been shredded and he can feel warm liquid slowly pouring over his palms. He’s bleeding.

Mother’s shadow looms over him and Jack flinches, struggling to raise his hands to shield himself.

“Happy Birthday, Jack.”

Mother stands over him, smirking at how easily she’s re-established the status quo. Jack does as he’s told or he suffers the consequences.

For months, Jack has been dreading this day. It’s loomed on the horizon like some ominous Reaper waiting to claim him. He hadn’t known what would happen but he knew the day he turned 18 everything would change. Yet after this afternoon with Wanderlust, Dancing, talking, smiling, Jack had managed to convince himself he was overreacting.

Oh, he was so wrong.

Mother leaves without another word.

There’s no sound in her absence but the weight of his breaths. None of them give him relief. They catch in his throat and Jack coughs, blood spilling from his mouth. Sharp pain is shooting up and down his arms that are quickly going numb. He tries to hold his hands still but they shake, no matter how hard he tries. Tears build, his vision blurring before they spill unwanted from the corner of his pained, panicked eyes as he silently sobs.

No one hears.

No one sees.

Jack Rose is alone.

#Just Dance 2023 #Just Dance #Jack Rose #Wanderlust #Night Swan #Jacklust #slow burn #cw: blood #tw: blood #Legacy of the Thorn King #LotTK: Imperfect

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levinbolts · 7 months

Text

i found another one of these and ofc wanted to do it for valen because why wouldn't i. if anyone else wants to go ahead !

Rules: - bold any which apply to your oc

[ COLORS ] crimson. red. burgundy. brown. orange. yellow. green. dark green. olive. khaki. shamrock. blue. dark blue. purple. lilac. pink. black. white. teal. mint. silver. gold. grey. metallic. matte. cream. ivory. beige.

[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. fog. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. magic.

[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. lean. piercing. tattoos. lithe. moles. dimples. athletic. lanky.

[ WEAPONS ] fists. sword. dagger. spear. bow. arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. telepathy. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. pyre. teeth. rifles. words. wealth. knowledge. charm.

[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amber. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. grain.

[ NATURE ] grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. wildflowers. flowers. petals. thorns. weeds. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. ocean. river. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rainforest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains. poppies. galaxies. stardust. sky. rain. thunder.

[ ANIMALS ] lions. wolves. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. crickets. birds of prey. singing birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantises. crows. ravens. mice. rats. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. livestock. foxes. jackals. martens.

[ FOODS/DRINKS ] sugar. salt. bitter. spicy. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. ice-cream. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. french fries. ambrosia.

[ HOBBIES ] music. art. watercolors. gardening. house plants. smithing. sculpting. whittling. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. boxing. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. history. libraries. books. comic books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating. flight. climbing. running. freerunning. exploring. yoga. meditation.

[ STYLE ] lingerie. heavy armor. medium armor. light armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. sweater. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. flower crown. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. duster. trenchcoat. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. ties. uniform. fancy shoes. leather jacket.

[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. anger. bittersweet. happiness. luck. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. secrets. lies. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. kisses. hugs. revenge. lust. regrets. passion. spontaneity. potty mouth. recklessness. cautiousness. compassion. practicality. chivalry. tradition. patience. impatience.

#lext post #oc: valen

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marley-manson · 1 year

Note

Hawkeye and Charles for the WIP game.

Hmm, I don't have a wip strictly about Hawkeye and Charles, but I can give you an excerpt from a fic where they have a scene together. Thank you!

Hawkeye was lying in his cot batting a blown-up glove off the back of his hand when a realization hit him like a baseball bat to the skull: if he was really gonna do this he’d need an accomplice. He promptly lost count of his streak with the glove.

He could do the surgery by himself but he couldn’t leave the other three patients alone for an entire hour. The nurses were all wonderful, lovely, caring people, but they were also all volunteers. Not all idealogues, but, if he was being honest, he didn’t know which ones were true believers and which ones had only signed up to get out of the house. And then there was the malpractice they just might frown upon on top of that.

Klinger would help, but he wasn’t formally trained - he wouldn’t know if someone’s blood pressure suddenly dropped or a clot started clogging up the works in one of the kids. If he wasn’t planning to operate on Joey in the middle of post-op, that left one option.

He sat up, still bouncing the glove off his hand, and glanced across the Swamp. “Oh, Charles,” he said, with all the charm he could muster.

Charles looked up over the top of his book. “What is it?” he asked with all the suspicion he could muster.

“Completely and entirely hypothetically, what would you say is your ideal bribe?” He flicked it into the air off his thumb this time.

“Nothing you could obtain in this wasteland, let me assure you.” His gaze returned to the pristine pages in front of him.

“Look,” Hawkeye said, deciding to get right to it before Charles’ book could reabsorb him, “you have no especial love for this man’s army, right?”

“This conversation grows ever more ominous.” The book dropped an inch, revealing Charles’ nose. “Spit it out, please.”

Why not? Even if Charles refused, he wouldn’t rat on him. He had no loyalty and not much of a moral compass, and there’d be no gain to be had from it. “All right, I want to help a kid get home. Tonight. All you’d have to do is mind the shop for an hour while I’m busy.”

The book dropped to Charles’ lap. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am!” He switched to tapping the glove with his left hand, freeing his right for gesturing. “He - his father has lung cancer and he wants to be there for him. It’s simple, it’s soon enough that no one will notice I sewed his leg up twice, and it won’t even hurt him.”

“Aha, the perfect crime,” Charles said sarcastically. “Did you consider that a patient manifesting a new, unexplained injury could raise eyebrows?”

“Of course I did, what kind of two-bit hood do you take me for? It’s Private Visconti, my leg patient. He had so much shrapnel in him he could’ve easily had nerve damage, and we can’t exactly test him thoroughly with his foot all bandaged up now, can we?”

Charles pulled at another loose end. “The lights in the O.R. will arouse suspicion - surely that crossed your mind too.”

That one hadn’t. “I’ll do it in the exam room. No windows, and there’s enough space for one table.” Yeah, it should work. He wouldn’t have a spotlight, but it was bright enough in the room for his purposes.

“I’m dazzled by your advanced criminal mind. Why don’t you ask your usual partner in crime?”

Hawkeye’s makeshift ball fell to his lap. Ah well, it didn’t count as a winning streak if he wasn’t counting. “He’s too strict about the Hippocratic Oath,” he said, as light as could be.

“And of course you assumed my morals would be looser.”

“Oh please, you come from a den of tax evaders. I know they are.”

Luckily Charles chuckled instead of taking offense and refusing out of hand. “That’s highly dependent on any number of variables,” he said.

“All right, name your price.”

“Pierce, I have no interest in encouraging your insane flights of fancy.” He picked the book back up. Hawkeye scrambled.

“Half a month’s pay!”

“No.”

“A full month!”

Charles narrowed his eyes at him. “For one soldier?”

“Come on, how would you feel if it was your dad? Or - or your sister? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t want someone to stick their neck out for you.”

Charles looked down at his book but didn’t open it. He looked like he was thinking; Hawkeye held his breath.

“Half a month’s pay and two bottles of Courvoisier,” he said eventually.

“Done! What is that?”

He sighed. “Cognac, Pierce. Make sure it’s twenty years old, at the bare minimum.”

“Oh, obviously,” Hawkeye said in an exaggerated imitation of Charles’ Bostonian brogue. He had no idea how he was going to get it, but he’d figure that out later. Maybe he could place an order with whoever was next up for a Tokyo vacation.

“And at approximately what time will you be committing your felony?”

Hawkeye shrugged. “I’ll wake you up around three in the morning. If I don’t, then it’s not happening.”

Charles assented with a miserable groan and a wave of his hand.

“Thank you,” Hawkeye said with only a tiny bit of irony.

#ask meme #text post #marley on mash

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merianmoriarty · 1 year

Text

Neurodivergent Knitting: Casting On

Let’s face it, casting on is one of the hardest parts of knitting to learn, and sometimes one of the hardest to implement. Here are four of the most common methods and their pros/cons for the disabled and/or neurodivergent knitter.

Simple Cast On (single twist)

The easiest to execute, but one of the hardest to work stitches out of, especially if you have hand disabilities. It is a very stable casting technique, good for items you don’t want stretchy edges on or for items you want to puff in the middle. It uses no extra yarn, so you don’t need more than a couple of inches of tail (that way you actually have something you can weave to hide it later). Where it gets tough is that it has no gauge regulation of its own--the tightness of each stitch is 100% controlled by the knitter, so the tiniest moment of carelessness can pull a stitch too tight to get a second needle into it to work it. All you have to do to execute the simple cast on is to place a slipknot on your right needle, take your live yarn (the end connected to the skein/ball), give it a single clockwise twist so that it makes a closed loop, slide the loop onto the needle, and pull fairly tight--the tightness here has a big influence on the gauge of the bottom border, and if you make it too loose you may find it difficult to get any kind of uniformity going. When you look at your needle, it should look very similar to a sewing blanket stitch--vertical bars spaced out with yarn traveling horizontally between them, and the horizontal part should look kind of like it’s weaving in and out, in this case over the stitch it came from and under the stitch it’s going into.

Super Stretchy Cast On (double twist)

This one shares many of the same characteristics as the single twist cast on, both the positive and the negative, with one HUGE difference: this cast on will give you stretch instead of stability. The amount of stretch is variable, and tends to adjust itself based on what you work out of it on the first few rows of the work. It’s ideal for a rib or cable pattern with no bottom border, including top-down socks and gloves, cowls, hats, or limb-warmers. The stretchy cast on is most easily executed by placing a slipknot on the working needle, taking the live yarn, making a loop/twist like before, then twisting it one more time before sliding it onto the needle. The biggest challenge when using this cast on is that if you do not slide the stitches close together and pull up all their slack, they become irregular in size later. As a result, your first row working into them will be tight, just like with the simple cast on.

Crochet Cast On (picking up stitches)

This is probably the second-easiest to execute. Nothing fancy here, just make a slipknot, chain however many stitches you want to cast on. Then you get your knitting needle and pick up the back bar of each chain stitch (I say back bar because it makes what crocheters call a ‘neat edge’ at the bottom, but you can pick up the front top if that’s easiest for you). It is a very stable edge, but has a bit more give to it than the simple cast on, and makes a somewhat ornamental, very visible bottom edge. This cast on is the gentlest, sensory-wise, as you have no extra yarn touching you and there is little risk of the stitch getting too tight to work.

Long Tail Cast On (two-strand cast on)

Personally, I hate long tail. If you don’t judge the length of your tail correctly, you’ll either run out before you’ve cast the right length or you’ve got all that wasted yarn. I’m so, so bad at estimating that kind of length. That being said, it is extremely easy to work into, and is the foundation of most provisional/invisible cast on techniques (which allow you to make live-stitch borders that allow you to work both up and down from the same edge with no seam, very handy for fancy borders). To execute the long-tail cast on, first acknowledge that you’re probably going to estimate your tail length wrong and be ready to sacrifice a few inches of yarn (I’ve been told that the simplest way to estimate is to get two to three times as much length as the width of your work, depending on the size of needle, but let me tell ya, this definitely doesn’t always work for me...). It’s like cooking pasta or making buttercream frosting: size up the project, estimate the amount you think you’ll need, you are wrong. Now that you’ve come to terms with the loss and reminded yourself that it’s not your fault and you’re going to trust the process...twist the yarn around the needle so that you have the dead yarn (the tail end) crossing over the top of the live yarn (the skein end). With my mobility issues, I’ve found it easiest to hold my live yarn like I always do (behind the index, in front of middle and ring fingers, behind the pinky; sometimes, if the yarn feels like it’s getting away from me, I’ll slow it down by looping around my pinky once) and hold my dead yarn looped around my thumb and using my ring finger or pinky to catch up fresh loops. It’s difficult to execute this cast on if you hold the two ends in different hands, but it is possible if you don’t have enough control in your yarn hand--in that case, hold the dead yarn to the left (the ‘bottom’ of the cast edge) and the live yarn to the right (the ‘top’ of the cast edge); this is also the easy way for knitters who hold their yarn English style. Okay! All that complicated stuff is out of the way. Now is where it gets extremely simple: You’re going to make a single twist on the dead yarn (as if you were casting it onto the needle; as I mentioned, I like to keep this loop ready on my thumb, as if my thumb were my left needle), insert your needle knitwise and use your live yarn to knit a stitch onto your needle while dropping the twisted loop from your thumb and tugging the slack tight. That’s it. That’s all it is. Just using loops on a tail to knit through. You can even use scrap yarn from the same skein or dye lot and have your tail be a totally separate piece. You can use a contrasting yarn for the tail and then come through and add a border by using that contrasting yarn to find where to pick up stitches, after which you can just remove the contrasting yarn (this is called a provisional or temporary cast on, and it’s the easiest way to leave live stitches for a decorative edge). Sensory-wise, since you have two distinct strands of yarn doing two different tasks, this method is kind of icky; for me, I spend the whole time mentally chanting ‘nope’ while I remember that I have Big Plans™ for a fancy edge.

#actually disabled #yarncraft #actually neurodivergent #yarncraft for neurodivergents #neurodivergence #stimming

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