#day get a clue and a makeover...

[heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon]

Me and Big Name Fandumb Straggots petitprincess1 and ayylmao.tv after I call them out on their bullshit and block them, basically...But especially petitprincess1...

Because wasn't the entirety of that movie one big transphobic rape joke basically and she thought using a tacky, "sassy" gif of that Jim Carry bullshit even back in 2020 was a serve?

And yes, this fandumb does sexualize everything but in a very Bad Form, telling, neo nazi simping way kind of way that just dries up all moistness from the cunt when the rest of y'all can't seem to keep the word "degeneracy" out of your cheato dust breathing, incel/femcel mouths even "ironically" and that's why I couldn't bare trying to recommend these shows to any of my actually filthy, fucking John Waters loving queer friends who actually know who he is and actually know how to fuck. Because some of y'all fucked up the vibe so badly, in the Bad, Bad way... And I still (somewhat) blame Ashley Nicholas and her moistphobia for "Trend Setting" all that Bad, bad taste. Still tastes like that sauceless chikn nuggit (so if vivziepop actually made coco melon for tenderqueers... Oop!) Baja Blast flavored Furry Has -Been Tears, cheato dust, transphobia, and bad eggs in here sometimes and honestly if you're not a fanartists with loved ones keeping the vibes alive I'm kind of over it... My literal, crippled hands give me every excuse to write these think pieces while I'm waiting for my fanartist to help me complete and debut my character so I can focus on creating more art for her-- but these abled-bodied nasties have no excuse to be spamming the space with clickbait and gossip blogs regurgitating Medrano's every move on social media while harassing other artists and creators to the point where it just over saturates everything else good in this fandom and I have to turn my replies and everything off because abled bodied mentally ills get so offended when you call them abled bodied mentally ill and then I get an ask insulating I'm going "anti" when the insult was directed towards an anti who was essentially trying to tip my wheelchair over like a cow and block evading and harassing me in the first place-

Oh and let's not forget that I got screamed at, block evaded, harassed some more and called "biphobic" by another alleged bi girl, all for the crime of calling her "honey" but I guess I'm just gate keeping now because no actual queer person would think using a gif from Ace Ventura was an own and I guess that's why we have ayylmao.tv as our Fandumb Overlord and V*rb*l A*e as our Fandumb Mascot because we've learned from the Voluntary Celibates for The Radio Demon how BUNDADDY Ashley Nichols taught y'all during her SMUT SALONS to be too afraid of THE MOIST to go out and Experience some ACTUAL HUMAN CUNT, COCK, AND PUSSY despite being SURROUNDED BY ALL THESE PUSSY CUNT CUNT CARTOON WOMEN AND FURFAGS AND ALL THEIR PUSSY CUNT CUNT DICKS AND VAMPIRIC HENTAI TESTICLES. DRACULA GOT REINCARNATED INTO ALUCARD GOT REINCARNATED INTO A DEER, IN A STORY WITHOUT ALL THE NAZIS, COPS, OR RAPE BECAUSE IT'S WRITTEN BY A QUEER WOMEN, AND Y'ALL LET A STRAIGHT MAN PULLING A BLEEDMAN AND SIMPING NEO NAZI GAMERS BE LIKE: "I dont see why people want to fuck this character at all! UWU" AND THEN Y'ALL LISTENED TO A PEWDIEPIE ENJOYER MAKING A CLICK BAIT FARM OF A QUEER WOMAN'S ART AND YOU LET HIM BECOME THE FACE OF "HELLAVERSE" YOUTUBE MAKING "CONTENT" ABOUT "WORSE" CLICKBAIT BROS LATELY LIKE HE'S SUPPOSED TO BE ELON MUSK KEEPING DONALD TRUMP IN CHECK AND THEN I GUESS PETITPRINCESS1, V*RB*L A*E AND THAT OTHER V-TUBER BITCH I DON'T GIVE ABOUT JUST GET TO SHARE THE ONE KANYE WEST BRAINCELL-- THERE I SAID WHAT I SAID!

But this fandom space and the louder youtube fandumb space in general just makes it feel so unsafe to be a minority sometimes and I'm actually understanding why actual queer women and femmes with queer experiences outside the fandom, including actual kink and leather spaces, just cannot bring themselves to interact with it, or take it seriously as an Iconic Piece of Queer Media, despite Medrano's General Aesthetics and Good Choices being *SO* Objectively Pussy Cunt Cunt Slay! The fucking majority of the time.

Because hey, I can admit it, Medrano's Bad Choices ARE cringe, and her scorned ex crew members and the internet personas that tend to attract her attentions are even more so... And it sort of does bring down the mood a bit. But that's honestly just the consequence of being a young Scene Queen interacting with Fur Fags and Theater Kids the majority of her career so I can give her grace and forgive her.

The song 'Loser Baby' and these shows exist the way they do for a reason and I wouldn't change who Medrano is or her journey that brought her here for the the world.

And much like with Diablo Cody, and Jennifer's Body... First of all, I will be calling out the ableism Medrano lets Rogers write into her show sometimes, AND I'm not saying that Medrano herself has any control over the people marketing her shit, including her merch, or the people spreading misinfo she's sometimes maybe forced to interact with because of the environment that this creates, including incels monopolizing and monetizing anything having to do with her shit for their own gain ... BUT! That doesn't mean that while I suffer here I can't critique Medrano's Wider Fanbase and how it got like this because I do believe this youtube and vivziepaparazzi problem, with certain types of people having nothing better to do than re-posting and commentating on her every word.... All the time... IS a type of unfortunate trickle down by product of Medrano coming of age on the Internet in what was, at the time Metrosexual Scene Kid Fur Fag Central and thus today, because of everything she went through, her and her work can tend to attract another certain kind of lackadaisical person, for lack of a better term, who just does not give a single fuck about anything unless it offends them personally just because it gets "too political UWU" and makes *Insert Political Majority Here* "Uncomfortable" and "We should just all be here to enjoy the animation and sing Jambalaya blah blah blah bc antis bullied us into having a Victim Complex so now every 'Controversy' involving race, ability, gender or sexual orientation unless they're already considered 'degenerate' by cishet white male gamer dudebro standards is Invalid and any actual queer/femme in the fandom serving much more Queerer Pussy Cunt Cunt Looks and Opinions than we're used to by talking to the rest of like we're adults who don't need everything to be a SING-ALONG despite what Jim Carry and Jeff Bezos think? Well, that person MUST just be an Anti taking it too far and out to destroy the Community We Made out of Clickbait because she's being so Mean and Ruuuuuuuude~! UWU"

And honey, I'm just here to give y'all a Reality Check and spill that tea because any queer here is gonna opinions and Tell The Truth this Cunty it's the Crippled Girl who's Felt Personally Victimized by Brandon Rogers, has absolutely no parasocial relationship complex with Medrano whatsoever and thus can admit that she does have bad taste in (most) internet personalities (besides honestly Brandon) and that Sausage Party, Medrano's general affinity for DudeBro Humor that got Vaggie actually named "Vagina" and probably honestly brought a good chunk of her "DudeBro" fandumb over to help bronify the fandom (aside from maybe the actual can of worms hiring and retiring an actual brony and outted grommer probably opened..) Dear Evan Henson, and Owl City all suck... And while we're at it, Beetlejuice The Musical and the effect it had on the girlies in that fandom sucks too, but I like how it inspired Medrano so and I like what she did with it, so I'll give her that.

But you guys? The YouTube/Twitter Clickbait Incels and Femcels who think someone gayer than you going "Hon.." is an insult? I'm gonna give you one last read for the night from an An Inspiring Drag Creature...

Almost every single male voice actor in the Hazbin pilot just got replaced with someone hotter, nicer and more charming and attractive than them and y'all with extra hotties added on to the official cast and given their chance to shine and y'all complained about that. You COMPLAINED! Some retired pilot actors even went on twitter to encourage you by complaining about feeling insecure and unattractive in comparison too ... I realize that. 💀

But then Valentino's Official Voice Actor had to show up lying shirtless in bed on Twitter like G and tell y'all to calm down because basically for a lot of reasons, the wider fandumb space ain't giving Pussy, ain't giving Cunt, Ain't Giving Slay, and we love Stella, her brother, who's fucking her or badly wants to, Valentino, Crimson, and Striker here in Adult Land because their designs are Pussy Pussy Cunt Cunt Slay and all their voice actors are fucking hot too... I don't know how to word this without repeatedly empathizing one word multiple times but fictional written incest fiction and some pre- agreed upon fictional incest role play between two consenting and unrelated adults can be fucking hot too but some of y'all with your moistphobias just aren't ready for that very adult conversation and would flip your shits if the cookie actually crumbled like that in canon!

My name is Luna Worst, apparently...

In conclusion:

Can y'all tell I finally snapped, went off my shitz and pinched The Leprechaun today and do you think he's gonna turned me into gold? Meaning a monetized clickbait "explainer" video in which he calls me "Insane" because as a Thorny Irish Rose in a fandom where fools be kissing the blarney stone, making clickbait content farms off a Fiery Latina because they have no bitches of their own, I proudly claim it's my fight as a beautiful Irish Bitch to hold an Ugly Irish Arsehole giving Jason McGuire from Dark Shadows meets Perez Hilton meets That Creepy Reading or whateverthefuck accountable and finally kill the fucking bastard if I have to! :D

Merry Sinsmas, everyone! ;)

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 18: Dan Heng x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 8087

Warnings: Afab!reader, heat/rut cycles, ABO inspired, "dragon magic", tentacles in pussy, tentacles in ass, anal sex, oviposition (in the butt), eggs, mentions of egg laying, breeding, birth, etc the whole nine yards lol

A/N: Did not mean for this one to get so damn long 😩

⭐

It’s not unusual for Dan Heng to shut himself up in his room for days at a time, but you can’t help noticing his continued absence during communal meals over the last week. Usually he’d at least come out long enough to eat once with the rest of the crew, maybe even twice if you were lucky, and you never thought much of it. This seems somehow different to you though. He wasn’t typically this elusive. 

So you finally ask March about it one day after not seeing hide nor tail of him, not even in passing, to which she offers up a great big shrug. She had no clue what was going on with him, only that he sometimes got like this seemingly out of the blue. The only consolation she has for you is that it wasn’t anything permanent and that he’d soon be back to his old self again as if it never even happened in the first place. That’s how it always went, or so she said. 

Still, you can’t help worrying about him and you lie in bed that night pondering the situation. There was a very compelling part of you that wanted to check in on him, just to make sure he really was okay, but the logical part of your mind not ruled by emotion insists that it was probably best to let him have his space. You’re admittedly rather torn over what to do, especially when you were starting to feel a little stir crazy on this desolate stretch of the star rail where you didn’t have much of anything to do before the next warp jump. 

Under normal circumstances you would have spent this time together with March and Dan Heng, both together as a group and also individually to help wile away the amber hours, but after the impromptu makeover March had given you last night … you just don’t feel quite up to another evening spent in her room. You wanted to go hang out in the quiet, relaxing space of Dan Heng’s, if you were being honest. Badly, in fact. 

There just wasn’t a whole lot to entertain yourself with or even to look at in yours, still largely as empty and unoccupied as it was when it was first given to you, save the handful of bits and baubles you’ve picked up thus far on your journey. The data bank room where Dan Heng set up camp was far more interesting in comparison and there was always something for you to look at or mess with. Even if the two of you just sat in silence together while he read a book or logged information into the terminal, it still would have been preferable to this. 

That thought is what ultimately sways your decision after much uncertain flip flopping on the matter, and you hop up from your bed to pad towards the door. You don’t bother with shoes, since his room was right next to yours, and you quietly creep out into the hall as carefully as you can manage. 

Tip toeing over to the neighboring door, you surreptitiously glance either way down the softly rumbling train car to ensure no one was coming who would question what you were up to before reaching up to lightly rap at the sliding panel. You receive no answer at all so you try calling out to him next, mindful of keeping your voice in check. 

“Dan Heng? Are you awake?” 

Nothing. Not even a peep. 

If you hadn’t known any better, you might have thought he wasn’t even there at all but that didn’t make any sense. Where else could he have possibly gone? 

Feeling a tinge of doubt curl through your chest, you shuffle close to lean into the door and press your ear against it, holding your breath while you listen. It takes a long beat for your hearing to fully tune in to the other side of the sturdy barrier but then you hear it. A very soft rumble that sounds suspiciously like a groan, so faint as to be almost imperceptible, and your brows promptly take an expedient trip up to your hairline. Was he alright in there? 

“Dan Heng?” You try again, a little louder this time. 

Still, he doesn’t respond and you don’t dare raise your voice any more than that, so you decisively reach for the handle to yank it open. If he had a problem with it then you’d happily apologize for intruding upon his space like this, but you weren’t going to pretend like you hadn’t heard anything. If he was sick or somehow injured in there you’d never be able to forgive yourself for walking away. 

With a sharp little clatter, the door slides open in a rush and the first thing you’re immediately struck by is the smell. It’s not bad per say, just strong and cloying, like incense almost. Except there is no telltale smoke lingering in the air, nor is there any apparent source for it as far as you can see. The heady rush to your olfactory system slams into you like a brick and you stumble slightly, hand coming up to brace on the doorway to steady yourself while creeping concern rushes into the forefront of your mind. 

The second thing you notice are the small plates and empty glasses neatly stacked up on the corner of the data bank’s control panel, and you understand that that must mean he’s been sneaking out at some point to grab food from the mess hall. You’re not sure when he’s found the chance to creep around while completely avoiding detection when it seemed like someone was always up doing something somewhere on the Express. If it wasn’t you and March fooling around then it was Pompom cleaning or Welt going for one of his daily strolls through the train cars to get his exercise in. How in the world had he avoided being seen for almost a whole week now? 

The third and final thing you notice is that even at your sudden entrance into his room, Dan Heng still doesn’t give any kind of response and in fact seems not to even notice his area has been rudely intruded upon at all. It’s not hard to figure out why that was though, and a shocked little gasp rattles inside your chest as you lift a hand to your mouth. 

Back towards the corner of the shelves where Dan Heng usually kept his simple roll out bed, he’d amassed a small nest of pillows and blankets which he was currently laid out on top of. The fact he’s completely naked isn’t even the most surprising part, although that does catch you decidedly unawares for how unexpected it is. What really registers in your dumbstruck mind as alarming though are the faint, nearly translucent appendages sprouting out of his backside and his head, clearly visible to the eye and yet not fully formed in reality. 

In a far off, dreamy sort of way you recognize them as being physical traits of his other form, the other Dan Heng you’d seen only twice before, but you don’t understand how that could be, or why. He still looks like his usual self otherwise, his dark, fluffy soft hair short rather than long and silken. His ears were also rounded like a humans, too, rather than pointed. 

Just what the hell was going on here? 

Jittery and awkward, you self consciously close the door behind you so no one else can happen by and see him in such a brazen state of undress. You’re already feeling guilty enough about barging in here as it is without adding any more people into the equation. 

In truth you’re not even entirely sure what you’re doing now as you carefully step across the room to approach him, wondering if perhaps you should have just quietly excused yourself and returned to your room for the night. There’s an insistent tug of concern pulling on your gut though and, keeping your footsteps light so as not to startle him too badly, you shuffle up to his little mound of bedding. This is so far removed from what you’d expected to find in coming here that you can’t even really make sense of what he’s doing until you watch him shudderingly flex his hips in a slow, savory grind that drags his leaking cock over the mass of fabric bunched underneath him, the spectral length of his tail flicking aggressively through the air. 

That manages to stop you dead in your tracks and you just stare down at him for a harrowingly long beat, cheeks burning hot enough to cook an egg on. 

Oh. So that’s what he was doing. 

“Dan Heng? A - are you alright?” 

He jolts at the sound of your voice so very close to him, sucking in a painfully sharp breath as he shoves up to twist around and look back at you. Wide eyed and flushed, he just stares in bewildered silence as if he simply couldn’t make any sense of what he was seeing and you honestly couldn’t blame him for that. You were having a hard time wrapping your head around this too. 

“Wh - … what are you doing here?” He finally whispers, his voice throaty and gruff with a masculine edge you’d never heard from him before. 

Nervously shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you have to make a conscious effort not to look at his upturned backside even though he was still laying sprawled out over top of all those blankets, like some ancient god of myth at leisurely rest. Out of respect for him, of course, and not because you were so deeply embarrassed by what you’d walked in on. 

“I was just worried about you so I … I wanted to come check that you were okay. We haven’t seen you in a while. I’m sorry for, uh, interrupting.” 

His dark brows slowly draw inward, creating a wretched little wrinkle between them when he heaves a frustrated breath out through his mouth. “You shouldn’t be in here right now. I’m not feeling very up to entertaining anyone at the moment. You’ve caught me at a bad time, I’m afraid.” 

You think that must be the understatement of the century but you don’t say that, a little too transfixed on the not quite solid horns that are coming out of his head. “I can see that. Are you alright? I’ve never seen you like this before.” 

“And I’d planned to keep it that way.” He groggily murmurs, making it clear to you now that this was indeed the Dan Heng you were used to if he could still think up smarmy little quips to toss around, but the slowed speech and vague slur in his voice almost makes it sound like he’s drunk. 

You’re nearly certain that’s not what’s going on here though, and you cautiously kneel down next to him on the floor to look at him head on. “Can you tell me what’s happening?” 

Drawing a slow, tortured breath in through his nose, Dan Heng haltingly fists his hands in the rumpled ball of sheets underneath him as if to physically hold himself in check. “I’d rather not but you’re already here so I suppose I may as well. To be honest I’m not even sure if you’re going to believe me but … as you know by now I’m a Vidyadhara, yes? Well, it’s because of that. I’ve gone into a kind of rut.” 

You wrack your brain for a moment, trying to recall  the meaning of that word. “As in — for mating? But I thought - -“ 

“I know.” He cuts you off with a low, tortured hiss, fingers painfully clenching in the sheets as his not quite material dragon's tail irritably whips a frustrated arc through the air. “But just because we can’t reproduce it doesn’t mean the biological functionality completely stops working too. If you, for example, were infertile that doesn’t necessarily equate to the total loss of your menses. You may still have a period even if fertilization is impossible.” 

Your mouth drops open in abject shock to gape at him as if he’s just grown a second head. What the — 

“How do you know about that?” 

Dan Heng scoffs a quiet little laugh, pinning you with a very strained, very sweaty look. “Please. Do you really think I can’t smell it? My nose is sharper than yours so I always know when you, or March or even Miss Himeko are going through your cycles. In fact …” 

He trails off, shuttered blue eyes sliding to the side with a vaguely guilty look, or at least that’s what you think it is. 

Your curiosity is piqued though, and you find yourself attentively leaning forward to hang off his every word. “In fact what? Tell me, Dan Heng. Please?” 

“Well, it’s just,” Still hesitating, he stiffly tries to rouse himself from his prone position on top of the nest he’s made but he seems to have trouble making his limbs cooperate. Seething a dull hiss of frustration, he reluctantly sinks back down to hang his head low between his faintly trembling shoulders, trying to steady his breath. “It’s a shameful thing to admit out loud, but I can smell everything. When you’re on your period and … when you’re ovulating too. I know when you’re at your most fertile and I — unfortunately I think my biological cues may have synced up with yours.” 

The full weight of that information is so crushing that it almost leaves you feeling numb in the wake of such an unexpected bombshell. He was synced up with you and not anyone else? 

Somewhat shyly bringing your hand up to protectively curl it over your stomach, you flounder for something even remotely intelligent to say to that. “Does that mean … you’re like this because of me right now?” 

“It’s not your fault.” He insists, forcing his face back up to look over at you, offering his best attempt at a reassuring smile. “I’m not sure why it happened with you and not the others, but sometimes these things just happen. I’ll be alright so please don’t worry about me. It’s okay if you want to go back to your room now.” 

You know that’s his polite way of saying ‘please go back to your room’ so he can deal with this on his own, and you’re almost compelled to listen without stopping long enough to question it when you were feeling more than a bit out of sorts yourself. But something makes you hesitate, a small frown tugging at your mouth now as you look him over again. Naked as he is, you can clearly see that every inch of him is coated in a fine sheen of sweat that makes his creamy skin glisten slightly under the overhead lights, like he was burning up from within. That probably half explained his lack of clothes. 

The other reason must surely be his stiff cock which, even though you’d tried very hard not to look at it over the last few minutes, you can’t help but notice hasn’t flagged at all while the two of you were talking. He must have been in an awful physical state then if being walked in on like this hadn’t deterred his body in the slightest. And to think this was all because of you, intentionally or not. 

It’s almost impossible not to feel at least a little guilty about it, yes, but even putting that aside you felt strangely inclined to help him. Regardless of any personal responsibility you held here, he was still your friend wasn’t he? That warranted at least an attempt, you quickly decide. 

Determined and vindicated in equal measure, you nudge closer to him on the floor rather than getting up to leave, and that clearly surprises him a great deal. Stammering a soft sound of fluster, Dan Heng visibly recoils from the hand you reach out with but he still can’t seem to find the strength to truly pull away and put some (no doubt much needed) distance between you and him. Your fingers touch his shoulder, gently at first and then more firmly when all he does is suck in a ragged inhale, staring at you in wide eyed confusion. 

His stiffly locked frame only puts up a cursory amount of resistance when you carefully guide him over to his side and then further onto his back where he can questionly peer up at you without having to crane his neck around. It also allows his cock to spring up from his body to stand straight in the air, wobbling slightly as if to indicate his uncertainty. You feel a little uncertain too, looking at it like that, but you remind yourself to stay focused as you cautiously reach out as if to grab him. 

“Wait.” He hisses, snagging your wrist to stop its forward motion. “What are you doing? This is - -“ 

“I just want to help you. This will make you feel better, right?” 

“You —!” Seething through tightly clenched teeth, Dan Heng squeezes his eyes shut as if to reign in his self control and ground himself before he goes on. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. This isn’t something for you to take care of.” 

Your heart wrenches slightly at that. “Why not?” 

“Our body’s aren’t built the same, for starters. When Vidyadhara mate it isn’t … it’s not something for humans to experience.” 

Feeling his hand quake slightly where it’s still grasping onto your arm, you take a moment to thoughtfully drag your attention across his bare body. “You look pretty human to me.” 

“That doesn’t matter.” Clicking his tongue, he rolls his head back against the mass of blankets to look elsewhere, evidently anywhere else but at you. Guilty, or perhaps ashamed. “You saw the eggs in Scalegorge Waterscape, didn’t you?” 

For a horribly long stretch you’re not quite sure what to say to that while your mind frantically trips over that information. You were learning so much about the dragon species, none of which you’d thought to know before now, and it’s a difficult thing to fully wrap your head around it. Surely he wasn’t implying that … 

You send another cautious glance at his cock, still flushed and excessively weeping from the tip. “You mean those huge eggs came out of there?” 

“What? No. Not like that.” His chest slowly expanding with the deep, wavering breath he sucks in, Dan Heng rouses himself enough to lift his neck so he can look at you again. Sending you a guarded look, he roves his attention down to peer over himself and you follow his lead, watching him slowly bring his opposite hand up to loosely curl the fingers around his shaft. “At one time female Vidyadhara did lay eggs during the reproduction cycle but … hnng, now we’re just shooting blanks, for lack of a better term. It’s too complicated to explain right now but — even these small eggs that haven’t been incubated to maturity are still too large for your body to easily take. I appreciate your concern but - -“ 

“No.” You cut him off, using your best tone of stern reprimand to make his attention flick back up. “I want to help you, Dan Heng, and that’s what I’m going to do. Not to make up for something I didn’t even realize I was doing but because you’re my friend. I don’t like seeing you like this. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” 

Full on groaning now, he once again tips head back while he stiffly twitches there on the floor, the hand around his cock giving it a tight, desperate squeeze as if to dissuade his impending release. You watch in rapt fascination as a fat, glistening bead of clear discharge surfaces on the tip of him where it hovers for a static moment before slowly oozing down the side of his length. It’s clearly taking everything he has to keep his self control in check instead of letting himself get caught up in those rioting urges, and you think it all the more admirable of him. Something told you not many men could keep such a tight leash on the instinctive, hard coded urge to breed like this. 

But that’s all the more reason why Dan Heng deserved your help, wasn’t it? How long had he been suffering like this all alone? Was it always this bad or was your presence just one room over making it worse for him? Even if he seemed sure that your body couldn’t reasonably handle it, you still had to try. 

Letting him keep his hold on your arm where he’s still clutching it in an iron fist, you bring your opposite hand up to carefully touch fingertips to his tense thigh. He jolts so hard you almost think you’ve electrocuted him via static shock, but he just groans all the harder instead of moving to push you away. The tail that isn’t really there lashes out across the floor to whip another serpentine arc before curling inward to almost possessively wrap around your waist. 

That nearly manages to startle you, especially when you realize you can feel a faint hint of contact despite its immaterial nature. It’s so light and distant that you idly wonder if you’re only imagining the vague sensation of fleshy scales pressing into you but you quickly decide it’s as good a sign as any. Although his hold around your middle was loose and tentative, he wasn’t pushing you away and you take that as your sign to keep going. 

So you slide your fingers higher on a sure and steady trajectory, caressing over Den Heng’s shuddering hip to join him in taking hold of his weakly twitching length. While he holds the base tight enough to make his knuckles turn white, you gently wrap your hand around the top half to feel the sticky smear of discharge on your palm. His stomach flexes so dramatically with the tortured gasp he sucks in that this, too, nearly makes you second guess yourself. 

But the more you linger there touching him, the more he seems to slip into the heady daze that fogs his mind. You can see it clearly in the darkening flush that stains his cheekbones, the excess of sweat pouring out of him, and the heavy lidded quality of his eyes. He really did look drunk, if you were being honest. 

And finally he lets out a threadbare, needy little sound as his gaze unsteadily comes up to peer over at you again. You can tell he wants to give in, needs to find an outlet for these mind numbing urges that are clearly wreaking havoc on his body, but he still has misgivings about going through with this. You steadily meet his gaze though, trying to silently impart upon him that you were serious and you wouldn’t be going anywhere until something has been done about this. 

The moment the scales start to tip is reflected in his glistening eyes, as clear as day, and he at last wheezes a softly rattling breath into the air. “Are you sure you want to do this?” 

“Positive. Just walk me through it.” 

“Oohhn … then — take off your clothes. All of them. So we don’t soil them.”

His fingers tremble fiercely when he pries them off you, giving you your freedom to lean back and get to work. You don’t think you’ve ever undressed quite so quickly in your entire life, and the warm pulse of excitement you feel low in your gut now almost surprises you. It’s not so strange though, you think, tossing everything aside piece by piece into a messy pile. As he’d already pointed out, you were in the middle of ovulating so your pussy was feeling extra sensitive and gooey anyway, and the close proximity of his naked body coupled with that oddly cloying smell in the air was only making it worse. 

Your nipples are already standing up in stiff, aching points by the time you get the final layer of your bra tugged off, and you shudder sensitively at the sensation of them cutting through the air as much as at Dan Heng’s heated stare burning into your bare skin. Settling in next to him once again, you anxiously look for him for his next instruction. 

“What now?” 

“I’ll have to — prep you first before we can go any further. Like I said, your body isn’t … made for this kind of reproduction. My spend won’t have anywhere to go if I take you here.” Listlessly curling his hand towards you, Dan Heng nudges the pad of one blocky finger between your thighs to pointedly touch your cunt. You suck in a frazzled breath at the contact for as brief as it is, eyes widening slightly at him, but he just continues on. “And we’ll only make a big mess when all is said and done. I’m going to do my best to make it pleasurable for you too though.”

Stiltedly nodding your head, you eagerly scoot even closer until your knee brushes against his thigh. “I trust you. What should I do?” 

“Come here.” 

At the deliberate nudge of his hand, you carefully push up to lean over him. You’re not quite sure what to do with your hands, a little worried about hurting him if you were to brace your weight along his abdomen, so you stretch further out to brace against the sheets on either side. Panting softly now, Dan Heng brings his hands up to work them under your arms so he can nudge you further up against him. The motion tugs you off balance enough that you slip forward to lay out across the front of him, squeaking a tiny little sound of surprise when he insistently pulls you closer to his face. 

Once he’s got you situated on his chest, he cranes his neck up to catch your mouth with his in a tentative, experimental kiss. An intense shudder works through you despite how gentle and fleeting the sensation is, moaning a quiet sound into his lips as you slowly melt into him. He was a surprisingly good kisser … 

That careful push and pull encourages you to relax on top of him and it doesn’t take long for you to notice your pussy starting to ooze eager slick in response to his steady ministrations. It’s surprising, in a way, how readily your body reacts to him, but you don’t stop long enough to truly question it. 

Clearly feeling when your natural defenses start to come down, Dan Heng lets his hands wander over your shoulders and further down to caress along your ribs, your waist and then your hips. Even when his need was so great you could feel it coursing through him and vibrating like an active livewire, he still takes his time with it to warm you up, ensuring you were truly ready before he begins in earnest. 

It’s only when you finally start to get a little antsy, fidgeting against his body, do you finally feel something soft and vaguely wet nudge at your cunt. So dazed and caught up in the moment, you don’t even think to question it at first when you were just glad that he was touching you there at all. But then you realize both of his hands are still roaming over your back to squeeze and grope at love handles, tugging you even further against him, and you don’t think it’s his cock either … 

Forcing yourself to pull away from his mouth with a warbling sound of confusion, you twist around to peer back behind you in search of the source. At first you can’t quite make sense of what you’re seeing, that shuddering incandescent specter moving sedately between your thighs in a decidedly snake-like manner. And then it takes another gentle swipe at you, running from the starting seam of your cunt straight up to the wrinkled pucker of your asshole, and you outright jolt. 

It wasn’t his tail which had protectively curled itself around your calves, but something else entirely. 

“Wh - -“

“Don’t worry. It's just some of my power leaking out.” He murmurs, pulling your attention back around. 

“You mean like … the horns and tail?” 

Offering a stiff nod, Dan Heng slides his hands forward along your ribcage to gently nudge you into sitting up just enough to lift your tits from his chest. A deeply ruffled, shuddering exhale slips out of you when he redirects them around to grope at you, offering your breasts a careful squeeze that makes the nipples drag over his calloused palms. It almost makes you sway there on top of him, moaning a lilting sound into the air. 

While he diligently plays with your chest, pinching and tweaking at the sensitive buds to make them ache, you can feel that — immaterial tentacle working to spread your cunt open. You can’t think of anything else to call it when it was long and very reminiscent of a curling snake, wriggling around as if with a mind of its own behind you. And when it at last manages to nudge up against your entrance where it ever so slowly begins to push inside, you outright choke on a half stifled gasp. 

Although it wasn’t nearly as firm and real as Dan Heng is underneath you, there was still a certain tangible quality to it that leaves you trembling at the staggered stretch it puts on your guts. You have a split second, delirious thought that this must be what it feels like to be penetrated by a ghost, but the thought abruptly cuts off when he bends his face close to snag one of your nipples in his mouth. 

Tossing your head back to keen up at the ceiling, you stiffly hang there in the balance while he suckles your straining teat to heightened sensitivity and the spectral manifestation of his Vidyadhara power gradually worms its way into your body. Alarm almost registers in your hazy mind when you realize how good it actually feels being pulled between the two equally unrelenting forces, but you don’t get the chance to linger on it for very long. 

That not quite there tentacle shudders and wriggles inside you to make more room for itself so it can reach further in, steadily stuffing your cunt full until your toes start to painfully curl. It doesn’t exactly hurt yet it’s an exceedingly strange sensation to wrap your head around when it almost felt like your pussy was stretching open around nothing at all. There’s no resistance, barely any sense of friction, and you finally give in to the urge to mindlessly writhe, pushing back on the presence behind you with a faltering moan. 

Dan Heng softly shushes you, taking a quick, savory nip at your fattened nipple before turning his head to switch to the other. At the same time, the tentacle starts to move in earnest, carefully thrusting its long, squirming length in and out to make your pussy wetly click. Frantically clutching at his broad shoulders, you quickly give yourself over to that insistent pressure and roll your hips into it, outright quaking with pleasure. 

You’re so caught up in it, in fact, that you almost don’t even notice a second snaking tendril coming up to deliberately nudge at your clit. Issuing a startled little squeak at the unexpected sensation, you stiffly lurch forward as if to lift your hips and escape its attack, but Dan Heng holds you tight. There’s no way for you to wiggle yourself free like this and you have no choice but to sit there and take it, juddering uncontrollably while the pressure in you rapidly swells. 

Your first orgasm hits you almost embarrassingly fast, helpless to do anything else except cum when you were being relentlessly tweaked and sucked, and fucked from both ends. Clenching your teeth to stop the frantic wail rising in your throat, you viciously seethe and ride out the mercilessly crashing waves of your release while your pussy spasms around what amounts to nothing. It’s enough to almost have your eyes rolling back in your head, and you drunkenly sway on top of him when the high finally starts to dwindle a long stretch of moments later. 

Left raggedly panting in the aftermath, all you can do is bonelessly sink into him with a warm, content little groan of satisfaction. The spot between your legs feels like an even goopier mess than before, all warm and sticky, and stuffed full. But then, to your shuddering disappointment, the tentacle starts to pull out of you with a slimy wriggle, dragging the sensation of copious arousal right to your entrance where it finally slips free with a noisy squelch. 

Sensitively twitching at the sound, you quietly groan under your breath as you peer down into Dan Heng’s face when he finally releases your aching teat from his mouth. Both have been left flushed and swollen in the wake of his attention, and they fleshily drag across his chest as you lean down to kiss him again, which he happily reciprocates. 

He’s left you in such a deeply gratified state that you’ve almost forgotten why you were even doing this in the first place, so punchdrunk on fast pumping endorphins and the intoxicating smell of him that you could have easily dozed off right then and there. 

But then, to your surprise, he pulls back just enough to speak against your lips, murmuring a soft, “Don’t tense up. Just relax into it.” 

Rousing slightly from your comfortable daze, you start to question him but the words catch in your throat when you suddenly feel that tentacle — still coated in sticky, vicious slick — swiping over your asshole to coat it in the clinging discharge. A mildly horrified tremor works through you, and you suck in a rough gasp as you start to push up, but Dan Heng holds you tight to stop it. 

“It’s okay, I promise.” He soothes you, trying to keep his voice light and reassuring despite the eager inflection. “I know this probably isn’t ideal for you but it’s the best way to do this, trust me. I’m not going to hurt you. Take a deep breath.” 

That’s easy enough for him to say, but it’s much harder for you to listen to reason when that ghostly tendril behind you was insistently circling the rim of your hole to ensure it was thoroughly lubricated on the outside. Your heart feels like it’s going to jackhammer straight out of your chest as you fidget on top of him, trying in vain to angle your backside away but it’s no use. The smooth, vaguely fleshy tip just follows after you and insistently presses in on the center wrinkle, putting enough pressure on the muscle to make it slowly start to give. 

“W - wait, that’s - -!” 

He shushes you again, raggedly panting underneath you while the tentacle squirms and wriggles its way into your body to just dip past the inner rim of your entrance. The sensation of your sphincter relenting to grant it entry almost registers in your mind like a distant pop and you lurch in place, woundedly groaning as it starts to steadily reach in deeper now that it’s past that initial barrier. 

At the same time the second tendril on your aching clit continues to gently swipe back and forth over the sensitized pleasure button as if to soothe and comfort you. It doesn’t really work though when you were being penetrated from behind like this, helplessly juddering as you're gradually forced to take more and more. And it’s the same as it had been when it was your cunt being stretched open around something that wasn’t actually there, your ass opening up around what tangibly feels like nothing. 

It’s a struggle to make any sense of it or comprehend the full scope of what’s actually happening, your mouth hanging open on an overwhelmed, silent scream. It feels like too much for your body to handle, especially when it gradually begins to move in a slow motion thrust that just tests the give of your inner sleeve to ensure you wouldn’t tear. 

“Nnghn, D - Dan Heng, I can’t - -“ 

“I know. I'm sorry. Just bear with it a little longer, alright? I promise it’ll be over soon.” 

Not soon enough, you think, seething through the odd discomfort that comes with being penetrated like this. It doesn’t exactly hurt when the wriggling tentacle was smooth and narrow enough not to put too much strain on your weakly fluttering guts, but it’s something you’re not used to and you’re not quite sure how to relax into it. Every time you try your ass just hollowly contracts around its slim girth, forced to stay wedged open despite the desperate clench of muscle. Even worse is the fact you can feel your cunt steadily drooling yet more eager slick in response to the unfamiliar stimulation, somehow still not at all deterred even now. 

All you can do is endure it over the next odd minutes while he takes his time carefully making sure your hole is loosened enough for whatever he planned to do next. Given what he’d said about eggs earlier you had some ideas, of course, but you’re a little too caught up in the total onslaught to your body to think that far back. The only thing you were conceivably aware of in that moment was the longer that tentacle squirms around inside your ass the more excited you got. 

It doesn’t even really make any sense, in all actuality, and yet you don’t think to protest when it finally starts to slide out of you, dragging against your guts until it can slip completely out of your weakly clenching entrance. You sway dizzily at the sensation of your ass swollen and puffy, prepped to accept something bigger, yet say nothing against it when Dan Heng manages to gather enough energy to push up on his elbows and carefully slide you down next time in the nest of sheets. 

Moving gingerly slow, he crawls over top of you and stretches out to grab something just over your head. Blinking dazedly, you tip your head to see what he’s doing only to feel a pang of surprise when you realize he’s grabbing a small bottle of proper lubricant that was half hidden behind the corner of the shelf. So he hadn’t needed to use your own pussy slick to - -

“Sorry.” He murmurs, sounding truly apologetic as he pulls back enough to flip the little cap open. “I got so caught up in the moment that I was just doing what felt natural but … I realized this wasn’t going to work without the proper tools. You’re too tight.” 

You’re not sure how you possibly manage to blush under these circumstances, but you find yourself pinning him with a flustered scowl all the same. “Next time I’ll make sure to prep before I come to your room then.” 

Dan Heng hesitates at that, sending a briefly concealed look from under the fringe of his sweat matted bangs, and you quickly snap your mouth shut when you realize what you’d just said. Was there really going to be a next time? And would you really take the time to properly prepare for it? 

You don’t know about that just yet, but as you watch him carefully gather your knees under his arms so he can lean forward and bend you in half to leave your cunt and ass fully exposed to him, you think you might. Not only did he look frustratingly good hovering over you like this, all covered in sweat and tense with aching anticipation, but the heavy bob of his cock between your legs … even if this wasn’t exactly what you’d envisioned it was still undeniably exciting. 

“Scoot a little lower, if you can.” 

Letting out a shuddering breath, you comply with an eager wriggle that nudges you further into the space between his braced knees. It forces your legs into a deeper bend too, nearly bringing them right down to your chest, and you hold your breath as he brings the bottle down to squirt a healthy dollop over your waiting pucker. 

You hiss softly at the cool sensation, fidgeting restlessly underneath him, but Dan Heng stays focused on the task at hand. After setting the lube aside where it wasn’t likely to get knocked over, he reaches back down to loosely curl his fingers around the shaft so he can guide it towards your entrance. 

“I’m going to stick it in now.” He warns, groaning so heavily you almost can’t make out what he’s saying. “Just tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop to give you a break but — ooughhn, I don’t think this is going to take very long.” 

A violent shudder works through him, nearly bowling him over right on the spot as he sensitively lurches over you. It’s like his hips have a mind of their own now and they stiffly flex, pushing closer to you on a steady trajectory guided by his shaking hand. The fleshy glans presses into your waiting ass, your breath catching in your throat at the stark difference between this and the spectral tentacle. He’s firm and warm, and alive against you, and your pussy positively weeps when he starts to cautiously push in. 

The raised rim of your entrance readily accepts him, much to your gasping surprise, spreading open under the pressure to cling to the glans and then the shaft, and then more of the shaft until he’s sheathed half of the way inside you on a single, stilted thrust. This is very different from before and you wildly shudder at the full brunt of this kind of penetration, helplessly squirming on his cock where he’s got you impaled. 

He doesn’t seem to be doing much better than you as he hovers there for a long moment, just trying to ground himself by the looks of it. But he seems to be losing the fight and he screws his eyes shut with a ragged, almost painful hiss as he leans into you to settle his weight and let gravity do the rest of the work. The resulting, tortuously stilted slide of his flesh along your inner sleeve has your legs uselessly twitching in the air, yet you make no attempt to stop him or his inward push. 

All at once he’s pressed flush against your vulnerably upturned cheeks, and he immediately succumbs to the potent rush of sensation mixed with the overwhelming flood of pheromones that abruptly grabs him in a chokehold. Painfully stiff and halting, Dan Heng snarls a low sound of deeply felt pleasure while his body trembles and his cock wildly flexes inside you. 

At first you’re not entirely sure what you’re feeling, that incredibly hot, sticky surge inside your ass that seems to shoot almost uncomfortably deep. In a far off, dreamy sort of way you do realize he’s cumming, and you can’t really hold it against him when he’d been suffering this whole time without relief. Letting him deposit his thick load in your ass only seemed like the least you could do. 

But then you feel a strange sensation, a deep throb from him that makes your cunt squeeze tight and clench around nothing. It pulses once, twice, three times — getting stronger and more attention grabbing with each repetition — until on the fourth you feel something solid pass from him to you. 

It’s not very big, he’d been right about that, evidently, but it’s noticeable enough to alarm you, and your eyes widen up at him in utter disbelief. He’d been serious about the eggs? Was he — was Dan Heng really depositing a clutch of eggs into your guts? 

You almost don’t believe it, your dumbstruck thoughts screeching to a sudden and immediate standstill as you just lie there, staring up at him in perplexed silence while he uncontrollably shudders. He’s too caught up in it to look back at you though, heaving through the spasming throb when it starts up again. One, two, three — and on the fourth you once again feel a fat little something push into you. 

Finally rousing from your shock enough to noise a horrified sound, you fumble to push yourself upright but there’s nowhere for you to go. He’s got you so thoroughly pinned underneath him in this position that you’d have to untangle your limbs before you could even think about scuttling away. Seething viciously through your teeth, you just look down at the spot between your legs where his dark, curly pubic hair tangles with yours, wishing you could see what was happening. 

Again and again, one right after another, those deep pulses start up and he just keeps steadily filling you over the next few minutes until you start to understand why he couldn’t do this in your pussy. He was right about that too, you’re more than a bit chagrined to find, and you think you probably would have laughed if only you’d had the oxygen to do so. 

By the time the throbbing flex of his cock finally starts to slow down there are so many eggs in you that you not only feel them pushing in much too deep on your guts to be comfortable, but you can also see the distention of your stomach where they were forcing it out just enough to create a little pouch. In total you’d counted at least twenty, but you’d stopped keeping track at a certain point when your reeling mind simply couldn’t take it anymore. You’d never seen anything like it, never felt anything like it, and the worst part was by far the way all that insistent pressure on your inner sleeve made your pussy feel so painfully empty. 

And finally, when you’re not so sure you can take much more, Dang Heng at last wheezes a deeply relieved sound, going slack and boneless over top of you while he gasps for air. It takes him a very long moment to start recovering, and he gingerly eases back to carefully slip his rapidly softening cock out of you. The way he grimaces and whines softly under his breath seems to suggest it’s quite sore and sensitive in the aftermath, which doesn’t exactly come as a surprise, considering. 

But what does surprise you is when he at last slips free and you feel something pop right out of you, chasing after him. Your sphincter is much too stretched and loosened to stop it, and your eyes widen to the approximate size of dinner plates when you desperately try to crane your neck up enough to see what it is. 

“I’m so sorry.” He groans, sucking in a faltering inhale while he too tips his face down to look. 

Managing to get your upper body elevated enough with no shortage of effort when your stomach felt so strangely round and heavy, you come to a sudden, jolting stop when you glance between his legs. 

Sitting unassuming on the rumpled sheets is an egg. An honest to god egg. No bigger than the chicken variety Pompom occasionally used to make breakfast with, when they had the supply for it, and it was still coated in a sticky viscosity that makes you feel dizzy. That’s what was inside of you? But … but there were so many, and Dan Heng had just transferred them all to you through his cock? 

You shoot the appendage in question a disbelieving look, unsurprised to find it soft and tender now, at complete odds with the almost aggressive erection he’d had when you first walked in. No wonder he was totally exhausted and spent after that. And next it would be your turn to labor through the process of birthing them all, one by one until there was nothing left except an empty, hollow void inside of you where his clutch had once resided. It was an incredibly staggering thought to wrap your head around, but it was also a frankly impressive one too. 

So this was how the Vidyadhara used to mate …

⭐

Crossposted: here

[cece693]

PLEASE MORE ASGARDIAN M!READER!!!

May I suggest a fic where the reader wants to bond closely to Wanda and Natasha but, is afraid because their only concept of sister relationships was Hela (reader is a little scared of Hela 😔 due to her destructive nature). Can I also add that the reader has slightly long hair (shoulder length) to braid!

Thank you for your talent and dedication!

He's Cute (Pt. 1.5)

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: wanda and natasha are the best, sibling duo, getting ready for the date, hints of WandaNat/ScarletWidow, bucky being adorably smitten, yes 1.5 cause pt. 2 is the actual date :)

You fiddled nervously with the ends of your hair, pacing the length of your borrowed bedroom in the Avengers Compound for what felt like the hundredth time. Today was the day: your very first official Earth date. With none other than Bucky Barnes. Just the thought of it sent a rush of excitement (and panic) through your veins.

The problem? You had no clue how to prepare for a Midgardian date. A tunic and breeches might scream ‘medieval faire,’ and your more formal Asgardian garb would be even more intimidating. What if Bucky took one look at you and decided you were too over-the-top or—in the worst scenario—ran for the hills? Then there was your hair. Should you leave it loose? Tie it back? Attempt some elaborate braid?

What if I make a total fool of myself? you thought, tugging on your hair with a frustrated groan. You considered consulting Thor—briefly—until your imagination conjured an image of him bellowing, “Wear your finest Asgardian leathers!” and slapping you on the back so hard you’d stumble. Not exactly helpful.

You also thought about Tony or Steve, but quickly dismissed those options. Tony might tease you relentlessly, and while Steve was sweet, he was probably as clueless as you when it came to modern dating intricacies.

That left two people you admired from a (sometimes intimidated) distance: Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff. You’d seen how confident and stylish they both were—able to slip into a gown or tactical gear with equal flair. If anyone can help me blend Asgardian flair with Midgard style, you reasoned, it’s them.

Trouble was, the concept of “sisterly” assistance made your stomach twist. Your only sisterly figure had been Hela—and she was the embodiment of destructive chaos. Whenever you thought of “sisterly bonds,” images of shadowy blades and a mocking sneer intruded on your mind. Still, you had no one else to turn to, and time was running out.

It didn’t take long to find them. Wanda lounged on a couch, sipping tea and reading a worn paperback. Natasha reclined in an armchair nearby, scrolling through her phone. They exuded a relaxed warmth that made your nerves surge all over again—how did you even start this conversation?

Wanda glanced up first, her warm eyes creasing in a small smile. “Oh! (Y/N), did you need something?”

Natasha flicked her gaze over to you, phone still in hand. “You look like you’re either about to faint or confess a murder. Everything okay?”

Embarrassed, you rubbed the back of your neck. “I—I’m sorry to interrupt. I know you’re both probably busy, but I…I have a date. With Bucky,” you added softly, feeling your cheeks heat at the admission. “And I have no idea what to wear or how to do my hair, or—anything, really.”

Wanda’s eyebrows rose, and a slow grin spread across her face. “A date with Bucky? That’s adorable.”

Natasha set aside her phone, crossing her arms. “So you want a bit of a makeover?”

You cleared your throat, nerves clashing with relief. “Yes. Please. I don’t know how Earth dates usually go. I’m used to, well…armor and father-gifts, and illusions if I want to ‘dress up.’ But that’s not exactly the vibe here.”

Both women chuckled at that. Natasha stood and motioned for Wanda to follow. “Come on, let’s get you set up. And don’t worry—you’re not bothering us. We’d love to help you not show up to your date in full Asgardian regalia.”

Natasha led you to what appeared to be a converted storage room. Racks of clothing lined the walls, and a couple of tall dressers stood at one end. You caught glimpses of everything from formal evening wear to casual street clothes—no doubt a stockpile from Tony’s various shopping sprees.

“Okay,” Natasha declared, scanning the racks. “We need something comfortable but sharp. You want to catch Bucky’s eye without screaming I’m a prince from another realm.”

Wanda’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Though, honestly, you could show up in a paper bag and he’d probably swoon.”

You felt your cheeks flame. “I—um, I just don’t want to look foolish.”

Natasha brushed aside a row of jackets. “We won’t let that happen. Trust us. Let’s see…” She paused, sizing you up. “You’ve got a good build—broad shoulders, trim waist. We should highlight that. Maybe a well-fitted shirt.”

Wanda’s gaze flicked between you and Natasha. “Oooh, yes. And if we can find a color that brings out his eyes…” She rummaged through a section of button-downs.

That left you standing there, feeling slightly awkward, as they pulled items from hangers and debated the merits of each. You shifted from foot to foot, your anxiety creeping in. This is far less terrifying than dealing with Hela, right? you told yourself. And yet, your heart hammered in your chest.

Eventually, Wanda triumphantly held up a simple, fitted gray button-down. “This might do,” she said, pressing it to your torso. “It’s not flashy, but it’ll look nice with your coloring.”

Natasha grabbed a pair of dark jeans from the next rack. “Try these on. We’ll see if they fit. If they’re too baggy, we’ve got more.”

Clutching the clothes, you ducked behind a folding screen in the corner. The chatter on the other side continued quietly:

“You think Bucky’s actually ready for a date?” Wanda whispered. “Oh, I’m sure he’s ready,” Natasha replied in the same hushed tone. “Steve says he's been looking at the clock constantly and somehow managed to trip over his own feet. He's more than ready."

Their amused banter made you smile—clearly, Bucky was as worked up about this as you were. That was comforting.

You slid into the jeans and button-down, surprised at how well everything fit. They weren’t Asgardian leathers, but the fabric was soft and flexible, hugging you just right. You stepped out self-consciously. “Well? How do I look?”

Wanda gasped softly, covering her mouth. “(Y/N), you look amazing!”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, arms folded. “Yeah, that’ll do. Sleeves up—roll them a bit. Show off those forearms. Trust me.”

Blushing, you obeyed, feeling a little self-conscious and a little flattered. “You really think Bucky will like it?”

“Absolutely,” Wanda replied, beaming. “He’d have to be blind not to notice how good you look.”

Natasha pretended to examine your outfit with a critical eye, but you noticed a small, knowing smile playing at her lips. Then her gaze flicked to Wanda, and they shared a subtle look—one that made your cheeks flush a second time. You weren’t sure, but it almost seemed like there was a soft warmth passing between the two women, a private understanding that neither was voicing.

Then came the matter of your hair. It fell around your shoulders, a bit unruly from the stress of pacing your room all day. You lifted a lock, hesitating. “Normally, if this were a formal Asgardian function, I’d wear a crown braid or decorative metal clasps that sparkle with runes. But that’s probably too fancy, right?”

Wanda stepped closer, gently running her fingers through your hair in a way that felt surprisingly soothing. “Yes. Maybe we could do a simple side-braid, just enough to keep it out of your face. Or tuck it behind your ears. You have a nice jawline, so let’s show it.”

Natasha approached with a comb and some small hair ties, exchanging that same subtle smile with Wanda as they both set to work. You couldn’t help but notice the soft brush of Wanda’s hand, the way Natasha’s posture angled toward her whenever they spoke. Something about their easy familiarity and gentleness felt domestic, like they’d done this a hundred times…maybe even for each other.

“Relax,” Natasha murmured, positioning you to face a mirror. “We won’t do anything too elaborate. Just enough to keep Bucky’s eyes on you, not on how complicated your hairstyle is.”

Wanda’s lips curved into a playful smirk. “Though he’ll definitely be looking either way.”

They worked in tandem, brushing, smoothing, and expertly twisting a small section of hair into a neat side-braid. With each gentle tug, your tension melted. It felt so normal, to be fussed over by these two formidable Avengers, whose reputations alone could strike fear into entire enemy organizations. Yet here they were, braiding your hair and chatting like older sisters might.

Every so often, you caught a flicker of something more than platonic in their glances—maybe the way Wanda’s hand lingered on Natasha’s wrist when passing a hair clip, or the private smiles they exchanged. It was fleeting, but definitely there. You wondered if you were witnessing the beginnings of something deeper between them—or perhaps it had been there all along, carefully kept behind the scenes.

Finally, Wanda tucked the last strand into place, and Natasha stepped back, admiring their work. “Alright, pretty boy. Check it out.”

You moved to the mirror, heart fluttering in anticipation. The reflection that stared back looked…well, incredible. The blazer fit perfectly, highlighting your form without overpowering your frame. The rolled sleeves revealed just enough forearm to be intriguing, and the subtle side-braid left most of your hair loose but framed your face nicely.

Your mouth fell open. “I—I look…”

“Really, really handsome,” Wanda finished, placing a gentle hand on your back.

Natasha’s smile softened. “You do. And trust me, Bucky will probably forget how to speak for a minute when he sees you.”

A mixture of pride and embarrassment bloomed in your chest. “Thank you. Honestly, I feel so confident. I’ve never had that before.”

Wanda wrapped an arm around your shoulders, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Of course. You’re about to go on a date, not face a war. It should be fun.”

Natasha’s gaze turned momentarily serious. “But if he does anything to make you uncomfortable—pressures you, upsets you—” She paused, letting the threat linger, “—I will personally have words with him.”

“And by ‘words,’ she means possibly an entire display of violence,” Wanda teased, but her eyes held a protective glint.

You laughed nervously, appreciating the concern. “I—I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Bucky’s so gentle. But...thank you, just the same.”

Natasha nodded firmly. “We look out for our own. And that includes you.”

Your heart swelled at the sentiment—so this was what a supportive sisterly bond could be, untainted by destruction and usurpation. After some final adjustments (Natasha insisted on adjusting your collar just so, and Wanda fussed with a stray hair you couldn’t see), the two women gave you a double thumbs-up.

“Go knock him dead—figuratively,” Wanda teased. “This is Earth, after all.” Halfway to the front entrance, you glanced back and caught a glimpse of Wanda and Natasha standing side by side, exchanging soft smiles. Wanda murmured something, and Natasha’s cheeks tinted the faintest pink before she turned away.

Maybe I’m not the only one with a new romance on the horizon, you mused, feeling a rush of fondness for both of them.

When you finally reached the main entrance, there was Bucky—hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders tense. The moment his eyes landed on you, all that tension melted. A slow, disbelieving smile spread across his face, and you swore you saw a slight flush creep up his neck.

“Wow,” he breathed, stepping closer. “You look amazing.”

Your cheeks warmed, but this time it was with genuine confidence. “Thanks. Wanda and Nat helped.”

He nodded, seemingly at a loss for words. “Remind me to, uh…thank them later.”

You chuckled softly. “I’ll let them know.”

The two of you exchanged a few shy glances, the air charged with a thrilling sense of possibility. Bucky offered his arm in that old-fashioned way you found so endearing, and you slipped yours through it, feeling a jolt of warmth as your elbow linked with his. “You ready?” he asked, voice tinged with nervous excitement.

You smiled. “I am.”

[deuce-t-agere]

Can I request some Babysitter Laura with Baby Logan headcannons ?

Yes!!

Laura first had to interact with Baby Logan alone out of necessity. Wade had a job lined up, and as much as he would love to cancel it to stay with his little puppy, they do need money so he had to go do his mercenary thing, Al was out of town, all of the X-Men Logan would have trusted were gone on a mission. Laura was the first person who came to Wade’s mind

Logan was not very receptive to the idea of her babysitting, but then again, he isn’t really receptive to any new people when he’s small

Laura spent most of the time just awkwardly sitting on the couch while Logan played with blocks and watched Sesame Street, the whole situation was a bit strange because although she doesn’t view him as her dad, more like an uncle/big brother, he’s still a version of Logan, so it was still weird having to take care of him

They didn’t really start to figure things out until Logan got really fussy about missing Wade and Laura decided to take him for a drive to try to calm him down, he spent the whole time pointing out animals he saw, Laura realized maybe the little guy wasn’t so bad

Wade came home to find them both passed out on the couch and the house a disaster, but his little Wolvie wouldn’t stop talking about Laura for the next two days so that was a win in his book

Laura can get frustrated with Logan pretty easily, she won’t stay mad for long and she tries hard not to get upset with him, but she has Logan’s temper, so when he’s in a bad mood and is being a brat it usually means she’ll get frustrated, sometimes she just has to turn on Blue’s Clues and wait for Logan to cry it out so she doesn’t lose her mind

Despite how frustrating Logan can be and Laura being prone to having a shorter temper than Wade and his other babysitters, Logan always requests Laura, and Laura has never refused watching him

They do mini road trips if Laura is babysitting for a full day or more, they’ll drive around to different parks and museums and stuff, mostly things they can do for free, and eat gas station food just for the fun of it

Trips to the zoo have become a constant, they love looking at the animals together, truthfully I don’t know if Laura also has Logan’s animal empathy, but Logan is able to get many of the animals to come as close to them as possible

If Logan is little enough and/or relaxed enough they will do makeovers together, mostly just playing with plastic hair clips, sometimes they paint nails, Laura found Sesame Street nail polish once and they had a blast with that, after Logan was done trying to eat it

They got matching sunglasses and Logan insists they wear them when she babysits

Logan likes to copy Laura, he thinks she the coolest person ever

They once decided to make s’mores and roasted them on their claws, convincing Logan to let her wipe the marshmallow off his claws was a whole big ordeal

They’ve, understandably, been mistaken for a father/daughter duo on more than one occasion, Wade got a kick out of that when he heard it

[beneathsilverstars]

siffrin has no clue how to apply makeup but wouldn't be opposed to someone else making them up. in a similar vein to isa making them clothes, it's kinda intimate and means someone wants to put effort into you and thinks you're worth decorating.

isabeau isn't an every day guy, but enjoys graphic liner and artsy trends - he owns three shades of eyeliner pens, five shades of creamy eyeshadow, setting powder, and glitter.

mirabelle wears moisturizing/spf foundation, lipstick, and eyeshadow-as-eyeliner on the daily. she also has concealer, eyeliner pencils, and nicer eyeshadows and lipsticks for special occasions. she would love to do big fancy wings but she can never get them even so she usually doesn't try.

odile doesn't wear makeup and doesn't want to.

bonnie borrows mira's makeup and gives themself raccoon eyes and gets frustrated that it looks like shit. isa comforts them and guides them through fixing it up into dramatic sorta-smoky sorta-scene, like, look, you were onto something, you just need more practice with the details! bonnie is delighted and gives everyone shitty makeovers. but that's all over the course of one day and they don't particularly revisit it again.

[languajix]

Mike's Makeover (a Fandom Family Reunion Fashion Show Fic)

Have a little not-so-little surprise fic I wrote in honor of the fashion show event! Cabinmates, I hope I kept your characters in character here, and if I didn't, my deepest apologies.

Summary: Mike's only recent experience with a makeover has been a couple of little girls playing dress-up with him. Other than that, he's never had much opportunity to look or feel pretty. Can his cabinmates help him out?

Wordcount: 2,978

Hold Every Memory Mike arrived back at the cabin with a full-bodied sigh after a long day of wandering around, poking at things, and meeting a lot of very fun, very fashionable people. Also collecting stuff!

He heaved all the various assorted fabrics from his arm to the bed, then deposited his nibbles one by one into the nest on the bedside table. El, Dee, Lee, Angie. All the Splinterson-Hamato campers present and accounted for!

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he heard from behind him, and he did not jump because he was a ninja, of course. He just stiffened a little. The speaker in question was Cerulean, his fellow cabinmate, looking at him with his usual diplomatic smile on his face.

"Pardon?" Mike asked, having genuinely no clue what Cerulean could possibly take issue with. He didn't slam the door, he didn't track mud inside like last time, or the time before that, he didn't leave his nephews to crawl around on the bed and potentially fall off or anything, he himself was just stretching a little and unless Cerulean was worried about him pulling a muscle...

Cerulean gestured at the pile of clothes on the bed. "If these aren't already wrinkled so badly as to need ironing, they will be if you leave them like that."

Ahh. Well, what was another wrinkle? Mike's dimension wasn't exactly going to be a safe place for fancy fabric in the first place, if he even got to take this stuff home with him. He sighed again just a little, picking them up one by one. Did this cabin have a closet? Clothes hangers? He wasn't in the mood for finagling any folding at the moment; it was hard enough when he had had two hands to work with, and he'd kind of wound himself down for the day.

"I don't even know if I'm gonna try on half of this stuff," he admitted to Cerulean, who leaned over to help him pick up the clothes from the pile. "I don't usually, y'know, wear nice things. We're pretty busy, and there's just never any reason to get all dressed up anymore."

Cerulean raised a brow. "Nonsense," he countered. "There is always a reason to wear nice things."

"Not where I'm from," Mike admitted wryly. His aching feet made it hard to jump up and meet the level of his usual optimistic pep. "A long, long time ago, it could've been a different story, though. When we were teenagers, sometimes we'd have to dress up to blend in somewhere, and whenever I could get away with it, I'd try to go for clothes that made me feel... I don't know. Pretty, I guess." He laughed, and felt the grasping, confusing what-ifs slide off his shell as he decided not to linger on them. "That was a long time ago. I got a little of that mojo back with, you know, the beads. And I won't say the stuff I shrugged on today wasn't fun. It's just... I can't. This whole camp has been a lot of fun, but it does keep me too busy to really experiment or anything, usually."

Cerulean paused, then, fingers running over the fabric of one particular jacket thoughtfully. "It seems like a waste to not at least wear them all once."

"Yeah, well. We'll see how many I have time for before this shindig is over, I guess." Mike held up his arm that once again held a bunch of clothes, probably making Cerulean wince a little on the inside. "Any idea where to hang these bad boys for the time being?"

Cerulean showed him to a closet near the entry door. Neat. That's what that door was for. He hadn't realized that was there, probably because he hadn't really needed it. All his usual clothes were haphazardly folded in the duffle at the foot of his bed.

Together, they started hanging up all the clothes, and Mike was really grateful for the friends he'd made at the Family Reunion, he really, really was.

When they were done, Cerulean swished away, off to do... whatever it was he did all day.

The tiny turtle tots at his bedside started peeping for their uncle's attention, so he turned to go make sure they wouldn't wilt out of inattention. Gotta keep earning those uncle points, right?

-------

ICE was looking at him weird.

ICE looked at everybody weird at some point, because ICE could be a little judgemental sometimes. Mike tried not to take the looks personally; he was a weird guy.

He couldn't figure out what he was doing, though, that made ICE look at him like this. Most of the time he was in the middle of dunking jalapenos in jelly and eating it with a spoon, or doing pushups up on his fingertips with all of his nibbles balanced on his shell, or trying to lure out the Covert guys down from the roof with a laser pointer. His weird stuff was usually obvious.

He was sitting on his bed reading comic books while his nephews napped against his side.

Did- did they not have comic books in ICE's dimension? He ended up not reading the back half of the comic at all, and instead squinting down as the letters blurred and he tried to imagine a dimension without comic books. What would people even do for fun?

The front door creaked open, and Marco raised an eyebrow from behind his dark sunglasses as he ducked into the cabin, a plastic shopping-style bag slung over his shoulder. "Hey guys."

"Did you get everything on the list?" ICE demanded immediately, and on the opposite side of the room, Mike noticed Spirit and Mika perk up, shooting glances towards the incoming cabin counselor.

Marco took his time in brushing off his shoes on the mat and swinging the bag down against his side, stopping to scratch his chin. He must have been enjoying ICE's growing frustration, because he milked it for a good fifteen seconds at least before he gave ICE a nod, fingers curling tight against the handle of the bag. "Yep. It's all here. I think."

"Let me see," ICE demanded, sliding to his feet and marching across the room to hold out his hand imperiously.

Mike was curious.

It was never a good thing when Mike got curious. But fortunately or unfortunately, he had a couple of tiny children napping at his side and he couldn't face their tiny little sleepy eyes blinking up at him if he got up and accidentally woke them. So. "All right, then. Keep your secrets," he murmured to himself.

He watched ICE shuffle through the bag, then turn to Mika and nod. Mike watched, befuddled and amused, as Mika rolled to his feet with a salute and started wandering over in his direction.

"What's the haps?" he asked, feeling almost a little cornered, but Mika merely smiled back at him, wide and sweet, before slowly scooping up the nibbles one by one, shushing and bouncing them when they started whining in their sleep, settling them in the nest on the bedside table.

When Mike was child-free, Mika herded Mike to the end of his bed, feet sat solidly on the ground, arm resting behind him for a little stability as he leaned back just a tad. "Perfect!" Mika beamed, shooting him a thumbs up.

Mike had gone from intrigued to amused, at this point, though the not knowing was eating him up inside.

ICE set the bag down next to him, but a tap on the bottom of his chin kept Mike looking straight ahead instead of peeking inside. "I'm going to need you to stay still," ICE instructed. "Lean forward a little. Mika needs your hand."

"Always happy to lend a hand," Mike said automatically, as Mika settled in beside him. Finally, he got to see what was in Marco's bag of tricks, as ICE reached in and pulled out... nail polish.

Mike's own nail polish was chipped almost beyond recognition after weeks of inattention. He'd just been busy, okay? But this bottle of new stuff was a shiny, sparkly purple, almost looking like a captured galaxy in there, and he knew his Donnie would love it if he could show it to him. "Oh! Nail painting. Awesome. We can gossip about boys and paint each other's nails." Mika took Mike's hand to start working, and Mike tried hard not to immediately slouch as he warmed up at the contact. This was going to do wonders for his touch starvation, probably. Nice.

ICE pulled out something else - a thing of eyeliner, which Mike recognized because ICE had done up his makeup all spooky and cool recently.

"We're going to try to do this over your mask, this time," ICE declares. "I've seen some people around the camp doing it like that. Captain, for one. I don't know how this will turn out, but I'll do my best."

...what prompted this makeover, exactly? Mike searched back, but his thoughts kept getting stuck on the whole idea of a world without comic books, like a skipped record. "Okay. That, uh. Sounds. Good?"

ICE just smirked.

Painting his fingernails was over and done with quick, given that he had three of them, and Mika soon had him resting his hand on the bedspread, gently waving one of Mike's comic books to get a little airflow and let them dry, when they heard a little shuffle from the floor above. "What are we doing?" Scout asked, poking his snout over the edge of the top railing and blinking big, curious eyes down at the scene.

Spirit flew up to meet him, spinning in excited little circles. "Uncle Mike is getting a makeover!"

"Oooh!" Scout tapped his fingers against the wood in a happy little pattern, then blinked once more as though a thought had occurred to him. "What's a makeover? Can I help?"

"Sure!" Mika called, waving up at Scout. "I'll teach you how to braid! You can help me pick some beads." Scout perked up and started hopping down the stairs.

The thought of braiding his mask tails gave Mike a thrill down the back of his shell. He loved doing that, he loved how he looked like that, he just got busy. Just like everything else, really.

"Drat," ICE muttered. "Marco, you forgot a ribbon."

"Wasn't on the list!" Marco called from the kitchen, where Mike could hear him rummaging around. Snack hunting? Mike's own stomach rumbled just a little at the thought.

Or maybe that was the sound of ICE grumbling. "It was. I know it was." He tutted, obviously displeased.

That was fine! Mike hadn't expected to have his mask braided when he woke up that morning, so it wasn't a big loss. He sucked in a breath, about to say as much, when he was interrupted. Something tapped on the window, and the only reason Mike knew it was one of the Covert guys was the obvious shadow that they definitely left on purpose as they zipped away.

Scout skedaddled over to the window, taking a few tries to figure out the latch but eventually sliding it open. He poked his head through, looking up, but by then the Covert guys were for sure gone.

"Oh!" Mike heard him call, and then Scout was in front of them, holding out some things in his hands for their inspection.

A red ribbon. And two small, thin knives, almost thin enough to be mistaken for chopsticks, with sheathes dyed orange and gold stitching.

(Uh, did the Covert guys have this place bugged, or what? Not that Mike wasn't grateful, but. Still.)

"I'll take that, thank you," ICE said, grabbing the knives and inspecting them before Scout could accidentally hurt himself. "I know what we're doing with these." Good, because Mike had no idea.

Scout sorted out the beads by color, whispering to Mika along the way, going off of some sort of color scheme Mike was clearly not meant to be in the loop about. Mike kept getting distracted by ICE leaning over him, eyes narrowed in concentration, some makeup thing or other pinched tightly between his fingers. The soft presses against Mike's mask tickled, and on the opposite side of his head, his mask tails were being tugged in a familiar way.

"Ah! Stop that," ICE scolded as someone - Scout? - tugged a little too hard and tugged Mike's mask an inch sideways on his face. Then ICE got a good look at Mike, eye holes askew, probably makeup all weird as well, and out of the tiny bit of eyehole Mike had left he could see ICE trying not to laugh.

(Mike almost forgot his nails were drying, when he went to go readjust his mask back. Whoops.)

Marco walked by on his way out the door, shooting Mike a quick nod as he passed. Mike tried to read his face for any indication of how the whole makeover thing was going, but Marco's expression was impassive. Helpful, Marco. Thanks.

After a few more minutes, ICE leaned back, studying his work. "Okay, I think I'm finally done. Looking good, Uncle Mike, if I do say so myself."

Spirit, who had lingered behind ICE's shoulder on and off during the whole process, spinning around and laughing into his hands and making Mike feel a little nervous, gave Mike an encouraging thumbs up.

Okay. Cool. He was getting excited about this, actually. Like really excited, a little fluttery thing between his ribs, a little smile that wouldn't quit.

ICE grabbed the knives and walked over to the side of the bed. "Let's just put these... here," he said, and Mike could feel the slide of something into the top of his braid, right against the curve of his skull, and then a second one also sliding home.

"We just need to tie this off and then we're done, too!" Mika announced cheerfully. ICE rummaged around in the bag and passed him something, and Mike could feel the braid swishing across his shell as Mika finagled a tie around the end.

"Thank you, guys. I appreciate this a lot more than you know. Am I done? Am I pretty?" Mike asked, just a little bit shyly, itching to go look at himself in the mirror.

"Not quite," someone said, and he turned wide eyes on Cerulean, who had made his way downstairs without so much as pinging Mike's senses, a testament to Mike's distraction as much as it was Cerulean's silence.

Cerulean passed Mike by with only a sidelong glance and a placid smile. Mike smiled back, confused. But then again, this whole thing had been confusing. Nice, but confusing.

Cerulean swung open the door to the cabin closet. He seemed to know exactly what he was looking for, as he pulled something out without any hesitation.

He laid the clothes down beside Mike on the bed. "You have to put this on, first."

It was one of the outfits Mike had come home with the other day. One of the many he hadn't actually worn, yet.

He didn't even know if it looked good on him. Cerulean seemed to think it would, though, which was a high recommendation. Okay, here went nothing.

Clothed and accessorized, he stood in front of the mirror and opened his eyes. What he saw knocked the breath right out of his lungs, just a little. The crisp, clean lines of makeup on his mask around his eyes, making them look wide and beautiful, a sparkly gold accentuating the black. His mask tails, with a small, long-bodied metal dragon wound up through the braid and scattered gold and purple beads glinting throughout, and the knives crossed like hairsticks through the very top. An elegantly thin gold chain draped around his neck, settled right across his plastron.

His nails, glittering like the night sky, below a simple gold bracelet.

The shirt, gauzy and light and just the right color to blend in with the golds, under an artfully draped, loose jacket with a dragon trailing across the hem, leaving stars in its wake. The swishy skirt, dripping gold into winking purple galaxies.

It reminded him of himself, but the purple and the night also reminded him of Donnie, and looking at himself in the mirror and seeing his family carried with him brought the same bubbling joy as it always did.

Mike couldn't help his grin, or his happy wiggles. He laughed, and the edges of his eyes crinkled, probably messing up that perfect makeup just a little but honestly? It would still be perfect anyways. It was all perfect.

He looked so pretty.

He could see ICE and Mika peeking over his shoulder, watching him looking at himself in the mirror, but when he pulled out his phone for a selfie, they leaned away, obviously trying to give him some space.

He didn't want space.

"Get in here," he demanded, "I'm not taking a picture without everybody in it."

ICE leaned in to his left side, a cool expression settling across his face. Mika draped himself over Mike's shoulder, grinning from ear to ear, Spirit hovering next to him. Scout waved eagerly from behind Mike's other shoulder, and Mike turned, wiggling his phone and his elegantly drawn brows. "When I said 'everybody', I didn't mean 'everybody but Cerulean,'" he declared firmly. "Get in, there's only so much room in front of this thing."

Cerulean raised his brows, as though politely surprised to have been included in the word everybody. "Well, if you insist."

He leaned close to Mike's right, though, and sent a picture-perfect smile to the mirror.

Mike snapped a photo.

Everybody in it was pretty, but he had to say, for once in his time at camp? He was absolutely the prettiest.

---

@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion

AUs involved, in order of appearance:

Hold Every Memory @languajix

True Colors by @v-albion

It's a Complicated Equation by @leilanising

Fear's Embrace by @karonkar and @owliedoesnothing

Ghost of the Past by @wandering-ghost

Second Shot by @twignotstick

Covert AU by @chessman-protocol

All from Cabin 14!

[simsthetica]

Nightfall Chapter 2, Part 1: The Bonfire

NAOMI (enthusiastic) Hey! You’re the new girl right? I’m Naomi Faulkner. Clare has already told me so much about you! Sam looks up, a bit surprised but smiles back. SAM Yep, just transferred! Nice to meet you, Naomi! I know right, Clare has been so welcoming; I kinda feel like the shiny new toy or something. NAOMI That’s Clare, for ya! She can be a lot at times, but she means well. We’ve been best friends since diaper days. You learn to love all aspects of her, even the slightly overbearing ones. SAM She’s definitely a character. You gotta appreciate the enthusiasm! NAOMI Anywho, how are you liking Copperdale High so far? Sam pauses, thinking for a moment before grinning. SAM Let’s just say if this school were a pizza, I’d rate it a solid pepperoni—could use a bit more cheese, but it’s still pretty good! Naomi laughs, clearly amused. NAOMI (laughing) I love that! What do you think could use more cheese? SAM Definitely the cafeteria food. That “meatloaf” looks like it could star in it’s own horror movie—“Attack of the Unidentified Leftovers!” They both laugh as they continue walking down the hall, the ice clearly broken. CLARE, the energetic and bubbly classmate, comes sprinting up to them, her eyes sparkling with excitement. CLARE (excitedly) Hey, you guy! Are you pumped for the bonfire tonight? Sam smiles at Clare's enthusiasm, while Naomi nods eagerly. NAOMI (nodding) Hell yeah girl, I can’t wait! Clare turns to Sam, practically bouncing on her toes. CLARE (babbling) Me either! Sam, has that missing moving truck shown up yet? You’re still coming, right? Do you think that cute blonde guy from my Precalculus class will be there? Oh, and! What are we all wearing?! NAOMI (joking) Woah, easy Clare! Remember to breathe! CLARE I know, I know! I’m sorry, you know I get carried away when I’m excited! Sam shrugs, a hint of frustration in her voice. SAM Honestly? I have no clue what I’m gonna wear. That moving truck has pretty much all of my clothing boxes and it still has yet to arrive. Clare’s eyes light up as an idea strikes her. CLARE (excitedly) Oh my gosh. This is the perfect opportunity for a signature “Clare Montgomery Makeover”! Naomi giggles, enjoying Clare’s enthusiasm. NAOMI (giggling) Oh, I know that look. Sam, you are in for an experience! CLARE Okay, it’s settled. At my pregame, we’re raiding my closet and you can totally borrow anything you want! Sam looks surprised but intrigued. SAM Really? You’d let me do that? CLARE Of course! We’ll make sure you look a-m-a-zing! Sam’s face breaks into a smile, feeling welcomed and excited. SAM Okay, I’m in! Let’s do this! The three of them laugh and chatter as they head down the hall together, ready for the fun ahead.

Previous/Next

[stevenmeeks]

Characters Retrospective & a whole lotta ramblings vol. 2

A continuation of my previous rant. Again, if you're interested I invite you under the cut.

In my previous post, I left out Frederick, and unfortunately, it wasn't intentional. I just blatantly forgot about the poor guy. It is a perfect representation, though, of where I stand with him. Don't get me wrong, I love that bastard, but ultimately, I think I lost purpose with him a long time ago. He's kinda similar to Lottie, that I had an idea of what I wanted him to be, but he just didn't want that for himself. A lot of his first intended character traits were given to Laurent. I am not mad about it though, this changes allowed me to explore a completely different side of him and led to my favourite mess of a web love triangle. I'm very grateful for that.

I think that he still has the potential in him, again, not sure if this particular universe is still the right one for him. His case is similar to Josie, though. If I never come back for him, he'll be at peace with that.

Ah, yes, the Hogwarts Mystery adjacent crew. It took me a while, but ultimately, I found a perfect place for them, in some ways close to their current environment in others, completely different. That is a universe of my original novel. No clue when or if it will happen for sure, but I had a rough idea for a certain story in mind for a long time, my biggest trouble was to pick the right cast of characters for it. Well, why not use something you already know, right?

They all will get major makeovers for sure. That might include name changes, face changes, maybe even scrapping or merging some of them, but that's natural. I'm obviously still figuring this out, and I will be for quite some time. There's still some magic happening, Julian's seer abilities and Ira's healing magic are something I will very much like to keep. So is Marceline, even though she's, of course, not part of the original crew, and I'd probably still keep her as a daughter of one of them. Can't say much more, I will probably keep all the previous content for them on this blog, so not to worry, but there is an exciting journey ahead of us.

Lily Anne is still here, kicking , and she is here to stay. I never fully explored her or her lore here, but she's been with me for so long, and I know I'm not quite ready to let her go without getting her a chance to speak. She changed so much over the years, behind the scenes, from a typical self-insert (down to her name even) made just to ship with Fred Weasley, to a full fledged character with her own motivations, ambitions and family drama. Oh, the family drama, you have no idea.

Sadly, she's too deep rooted in the HP universe to take her out of it and her story to still make sense, but maybe in some ways, it's a good thing. I hope one day I will have all the time and motivation to finally get her story out there and hopefully make you fall in love with her just like I did. Both her and Dancing with the Demons in general have been such a huge part of my life now that I can't imagine what it's like without them. They are still evolving and reaching their final form, and even if they never fully see the light of day, they are still important to me.

[aleksa-sims]

Simself Story

CW: addiction, pregnancy, cheating, divorce

I told him... 😢🤦‍♀️

As the sun slowly rose after we talked all night about what Daniel has experienced the last 4 months, it was my turn, to tell him what I did, while he was gone...

What I can say? 😞... He was devastated. It wasn’t really my pregnancy or the fact that I get a baby by someone else, what has made him so upset, but rather the... circumstances that led to it and how it all came about. All our probs were caused by that damn attack/assault on us, 8 months ago. This thing has traumatized us. We both had difficulty processing it.

My parents told him I was dating Nico. The day he came back, he talked to them. He asked questions. And now, D. wanted to know from me, why I even met Nico? Did I call him? Or he me? How did we get there? Well, the stranger I met online... 🤦‍♀️

Daniel: He did it all on purpose! He pretended to be a stranger playing Sims with you. I mean how sick is that?... Did you know it was him? Did you lie to me? Be honest!

Me: No, I swear I didn't know!!! You know the whole story, I showed you everything he texted me. And he didn’t plan on breaking us up. He never meant to see me, he knew I loved you and we were married. He even helped me make up with you. It wasn’t until weeks after you left, that Nico started giving me more and more clues about his true identity. Listen D., he tried to distract me. I was always sad. I was looking for you everywhere with Alex. I was devastated! And I also relapsed, really bad, I fucked up sm. 🤦‍♀️😞

Daniel: You want to divorce me. Everything breaks dwon.... This is worse than the shit my crazy mother did to me. You and me... that wasn’t planned to end this way! It should never end!

Me: I'm so sorry. I don’t want it to end either. That’s why I married you, I love you, but-...... how’s this gonna work?

Daniel: You love him, not me! Otherwise, you’d just stay here. But you decided to divorce me and start a new life with him. So go! Go to him!..... What the fuck are you waiting for?

Me: No, I’m not leaving. I can’t leave you alone now. I’ll stay with you, as long as you need me.

Daniel: Damn, stay away from me!!.... Leave me alone, or I might say something I don’t want.

I couldn’t leave him alone. So I just stood aside somewhere in a corner, looking down, while Daniel left the living room. I touched my belly.  I apologized to my Baby for the hatred I felt for myself at that moment. I was disgusted with myself. I resented myself for constantly repeating the same, damn mistakes. I never wanted to hurt Daniel!! He deserved me to stay with him and live our fucking lives the way it used to be. I have to find a solution!

Half an hour later, I went over to Daniel to look after him. And.....huh? Is Daniel cuddling his old teddy bear??? 🤨😄

Me: Daniel?..You ok?... You... need a huggie? 😳😬

Daniel: Nah, I just don't wanna see you. And why's that old dust catcher here? He also smells like you.

Me: I found him at your house the last time we were there. Your sister said it was yours once. And the other day when I was home, I found him in my closet. I gave him a little makeover. I cleand him and put some of my perfume on him. And yea, he's cute I wanted to keep him.

Daniel: I hate that teddy bear. He disappointed me when I was 7, just like you now. 😒

Me: Um... that's just a toy, Daniel. How can a teddy bear disappoint you? 🤨

Daniel: I got him when I was five. My crazy mother kept locking me in the closet as you know. He was my bud, who was allowed to accompany me. And whenever I was alone in our damn house, I was less afraid, bcs he was there too. But on my 7th birthday I found out who gave me that teddy bear. It was one of those damn witches my mother met at her fucking clut-parties. That woman also told me my teddy bear was not a boy as I thought, it was a girl! She showed me the label. And well, at 7 I could read. The label said, "Susi the bear." I was totally disappointed. He wasn’t my friend anymor, just a fucking traitor! A damn witch, Susi, like one of my mothers odd followers. 😠

Me: Sorry. I didn’t know, I’m gonna put him away. 😞

Daniel: Take it with you! Maybe your soccer player's gonna be happy about it. Kind of like a trophy for him. He’s an athlete, he should like that. 🤷‍♂️

Me: I’ll save your old teddy bear for my Baby. I thought one day, we could give it to our own baby, but if I had only guessed, I would be pregnant by someone else.... I-...agh, Daniel. I'm so sorry. I wish it was.................... otherwise. 😢I could stay with you, but what should I say to Nico? I can’t hurt him, and I don’t want to hurt you either. Really not! But I’ll find a solution. I won’t let you down.

Daniel: I don’t want....your solution. I want my girl to myself. I'm not gonna share you with him. I ain't like Philip, damn it! So just go!

I went out to our roof. I wanted to take Daniel’s laundry off the cloth-line. I wanted to help him and be there for him. But Daniel was annoyed.

Daniel: Hey! Don't you hear?... What are you still doing here?

Me: I wanna be there for you. I’m just helping you.

Daniel: I don’t need you as a cleaning lady or maid! I need my... wife!

Me: I’m not going! This is my home too!

Daniel: Fine! I’ll give you an hour. If you’re still there, I’ll lock the door. Then, you really have to stay here,.... overnight! I won’t unlock the door until tomorrow.🤨

Me: I have a key, you smart guy. 😒

Daniel: Not anymore, know-it-all. 🤨 Besides, I’m stronger than you.

Me: You’re gonna handcuff me?

Daniel: The clock's ticking. One hour! Decide!

Previous/Next

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Sorry, Wrong Comms! : Hunter x Medic!Reader [Chapter 12]

Warnings and Information: Intended audience is 13+ (18 if you squint). Should know the drill on my use of Mando'a, italics and my headcanons by now if you've been following along with the AU series this far. Star Wars and real-world swearing. Last chapter starts with an undefined time skip. Dinner at the Batcher's and poor Omega’s sick. Hello again Captain Rex! Blaster injury leads to an after-hours visit to the clinic. Some "Protective Brother Energy" from Rex in multiple forms, including some Anger™. Brief mentions of medical paraphernalia including bacta and an auto-injector. Lots of flashback dialogue. Compromise and good brotherly stuff all around. You want MORE domestic Clone stuff to end this series with?! You got it! Hunter's room got a mini-makeover with a very special little edition. Hunter is so “whipped” for Medic!Reader, you got him trained and everything to take better care of himself. Couple of suggestive lines and lots of soft!Hunter.

Word-count: 6,259

Hunter carefully collected the dishware from the table and set them in the sink after stopping it up to let everything soak for a moment. "Good chow, Echo. Thanks for doing the cooking tonight." he smiled appreciatively, patting the ARC trooper on the shoulder before rolling his sleeves up tight across his toned forearms to keep them out of the waterline as he got the dishes clean.

"Of course. Thought we could use it after a day in the heat, for most of us. Appreciate the help too, [____]!" Echo calls out into the common area, squeezing past his brother with a damp cloth in hand to wipe down the counters. 

"Happy to help, Echo. And dinner was definitely different, but delicious." she calls back in a jovial tone. "Do you want some more nuna noodle soup, Omega?" 

"Not really… not feeling very hungry." Omega murmured distractedly, and there was a sound of shifting fabric that was nearly missed by Hunter's ears under the sharp trill of Echo's communication device clipped to his belt. 

Breep-reep-reep!

"More messages with the Captain? At this hour?" Hunter asks, recognizing the sound. "Guess that also means he's back." he added as Echo stopped what he was doing to read the exchange. 

"...hurt, too." 

Hunter let the surprise get the best of him and he swore. Something about the hint of worry in Echo's voice. "Oh kark. How bad is it?" 

Hey brother. Know of a good bar open around this time with a good variety? Got a real itch for some Green Milk Coolers.

"... that's your code?" Hunter knew that Rex and Echo had, likely, regularly strategized together during the Clone Wars, but a whole code based around galactic drinks and the best planets to find them on? That seemed like an odd choice. Echo only chuckled weakly. "Not our best work, sure. But it works." 

"Can you ask him what his ETA will be?" He should go out into the common room of the house and cut [____] in on the deal. She was busy talking with (or to) Omega about some pictures, sounded like, so Hunter wasn't sure if she'd heard about the possible situation while she was keeping his sister company. About three days or so now, Omega had woken up and stumbled into the rest of the house, notably looking rather miserable. No infectious, sunny smile so early in the morning for a kid her age. No appetite, either. And then the sniffles started, the first big clue of a coming fever. 

His sister was curled up in [____]'s lap, cheek planted on the medic's shoulder as she snuggled into the woman's chest for comfort, the pair loosely wrapped in the blanket together on the two-seater. In [____]'s hands she held her datapad, thumbing through her pictures and showing them to the little, blonde Clone in hopes of distracting and soothing her. "Hah! Look at this one. Cross looks so serious in this one, doesn't he? I'd feel nervous if I was that fruit that had the nerve to be so expensive and spoil so quickly before he had a chance to enjoy them. Those were probably my favorite shots that day we spent on the mining planet." 

It was a beautifully composed shot; Cross was settled on one knee in the shade of one of the shu'ah trees, the other leg kicked out slightly in front of him for balance, the saffron-orange hills of the desert landscape behind him slightly out of focus in the background. The stony expression may have suggested that the marksman was bored of this, or even angry in the picture, to the unfamiliar. But Hunter only sees the concentration in his brother's face, the little, cocky smile that would be hidden by the stock of the 773. 

"Your pick, doc."

"The jogan fruit next!" 

"Yes ma'am." A sharp ping! punctuated the silence after the sniper's purred reply, and the round fruit ruptured with the force of the shot, purple, syrupy juice staining the rock used in the shooting bench Wrecker had built for his brother. 

"Nice shot, Cross. Fifth one, right?" 

"Mm.You know what that means." Echo, Wrecker and [____] shared a little laugh together as Hunter dutifully took another pull from his hydropack. After Crosshair had had his nap, and [____] was certain that Hunter was not flirting with improper hydration anymore after resting inside the Havoc Marauder, they decided to keep everyone accountable; they'd all take sips from their water every fifth shot to keep their fluid levels up. 

Omega picked her head off of [____]'s shoulder slightly to look up at her brother as he came around behind the two of them to look at the photo as well. "Hi, Hunter…" 

"Hey, ad'ika. Sounds like we need to steal [____] from you so she can go help Captain Rex." Hunter said, tenderly smoothing down the little one's hair before laying a kiss into the crown of her hair. 

"He's back then, sounds like. How badly hurt do we think he is?" the medic asks softly as Wrecker picks up their sister, offering to take a turn to cuddle with Omega. Hunter shrugs, "Not sure, he hadn't told Echo, far as I know." 

She stood up, smoothing down her clothing, a tell that she was prepared to get to work. "Might not say 'til we meet him down at the clinic, either. So let's just be prepared for anything."

A recent mantra of sorts that she and the family of Clones had adopted. Their collective future in this galaxy was so uncertain, so unstable, so they should be prepared for the hard, dispiriting stuff. The chance that maybe, possibly, it wouldn't be safe for the Clones here anymore, and they'd have to pack up and leave this spaceport behind in the middle of the night (and [____] would be left behind). But they could also prepare for the possibility of a happier, brighter future. 

A future where maybe, possibly, if they played their cards right… they could all live together, like a family. Damn the Empire: find a way to prevent them from establishing their hold here, and Hunter and his family wouldn't have to spirit away in the night. The seven of them could stay safe here, together; dare they hope for it, forever. 

Echo stepped out of the kitchenette before Hunter spoke, "Okay. We'll walk there with you. Sounds like Rex wants to see a few of us for a "drink" besides just you, kid." She nodded agreeably, sharing a glance with him before Echo jogged into his bedroom to grab a few items. "That's okay. He probably wants to say hi to his brothers; make sure you're all okay and put his mind at ease."

Five of them found Rex pacing anxiously outside her clinic, one hand sweeping through his closely-shaved blonde hair again and again as a means of soothing himself, glancing around. They had to be careful for any possible Imperial walking around at this time. This wasn't exactly a squeaky-clean space port, but it certainly wasn't as seedy as a place like Mos Espa could be. (Or, was that Mos Eisley?) 

Don't call him Captain, don't call him the rank, remember the script, she reminded herself, gently clearing her throat as a warning, walking ahead of the other four, who would enter the clinic after her through a side entrance once she's unlocked the door. "Thank you for being patient, sir. We can step inside and get your prescription for back pains sorted out now that you're off your late shift." 

Rex's shoulders perked sharply, coming to attention now that he knew [____] was here. He could let his guard down slightly, trusting he was in good hands. "Th-thank you, ma'am. I appreciate it, truly. The larger health center couldn't fill the script so soon, and- Maker, not everyone would come back to help someone after they've gone home for the night…I appreciate it." He looked so genuinely relieved, the emotional lilt to Rex's voice was not part of the script. Working open the front door, she let Rex in ahead of her before stepping in afterwards. 

"Glad you're back safe, Rex… They've been worried about you." [____] said, offering a comforting hug, mindful to be ginger since she wasn't sure where he'd been hurt or how bad it was. "'Course, it's not just your little brothers. Otherwise I wouldn't have agreed to help you on the down-low as well as them." 

"I really do appreciate it, [____]." Rex echoed his earlier segment of the script, shoulders slumping further the longer she embraced him. (Stars… how long had it been since he'd last had a friendly hug?) "Should probably go let the others in." Breaching the side entrance once it was unlocked for them, Echo, Tech, Hunter and Crosshair joined Rex in the windowless waiting room, each greeting him. 

Echo and Rex embraced longest, arms tight around their brother. "Good to see you safe, Captain." 

"Glad to see you safe too, Echo." 

Too late, [____] realizes that all the chatter in the waiting room will activate her medi-droid. It's hard to blame the blonde Clone for instinctually raising his blaster in the direction of the warm-up chime.

Ba-bing!

Zrrrr-oop!

"Easy, Captain. That's the droid Tech just repaired for her." Crosshair warns with a gentle chuckle, pushing the muzzle of the DC-17 to aim at the floor instead. 

The 2-1B strides forward, moving smoother than they ever have before to address prospective clients. Tech hadn't just fixed up her medical assistant, but made things better. "Greetings and apologies, but I am afraid we are not open at this time."

[____] laughs, patting the chest plate of the medi-droid fondly to disarm them. "It's just me and a couple of friends, Patch." 

"Oh, Miss [____]! I am sorry, I didn't realize it was you. I woke up so quickly from my charging port I did not get a chance to properly adjust my optical-" Maker, how she missed Patch and the unique way they fretted. Why did she stubbornly avoid breaking that karking warranty for so long? She should have let Tech repair Patch so much sooner. 

"Your droid is nearly finished. We will be able to go back home once I've… replaced this very mangled bolt. Those pirates really did a number on P4TCH." 

"Hey, no worries, Tech. Thank you again for repairing "Patch". I-I know I've been saying it a lot, but I just… While I was gathering things with Hunter last night I saw poor little P4TCH tucked in a corner of my back office and thought about what Crosshair said again. Decided to stop avoiding it and just go to someone I trust, rather than someone on the approved list that was supposedly warranty-friendly." 

"I am happy to help a friend, as I have also kept saying. Besides, I looked at the wait-list…"

"Lemme guess: not quite so reputable like they claim? Or… it would have been a very long wait."

"Yes. And the repair wait-list is currently two standard years out for this droid's manufacturer and provider."

"Shit!"

"That is what I said too. Now… would you like to place the last bolt, [____]?" 

The 2-1B series droid makes a sound that comes across a lot like a soft "oh" that makes the medic chuckle softly as she asks Hunter to get the lights turned on in her back office so she can treat Rex somewhere that offers a lot more privacy than one of the examination rooms with a window to the outside. "It's okay, Patch. Don't worry. You can go back to your charging port while I take care of a friend real quick. I insist." 

It might not end up being a real quick affair, in truth. Rex had requested that Tech and Crosshair show up so they could provide him with advice from their areas of expertise for a future plan he had in mind for the Rebellion to, hopefully, do some serious damage to the Empire.

"What do you mean by selling Echo for 2000 credits!?" Rex roared with disbelief from the other room. Maker, thank the stars she'd invested in soundproofing her clinic after Clone Force 99 had dealt with her little pirate problem. Someone out in the street might have heard him at such a volume, otherwise.

"Er, C-Captain Rex, you missed the extra "zero" at the end here… It should read twenty-thousand credits. Which should be more than enough to acquire weapons on most aftermarkets for the rebel fighters and the liberated Clones from the transport ship who've gone into hiding." Tech offers meekly, ducking his head when [____] steps back into the back office and passes everything off to Hunter with a practiced motion. 

Captain Rex does not look pleased with any of them, least of all the genius. "Th-that doesn't make it better! He is your brother! This is wrong!" 

Echo stays silent, lips thin as they are pressed together while he simply just listens to the Captain ream the entire plan laid out to him. He figured Rex wouldn't like the idea, and had warned Tech but… holy kriff. Crosshair has smartly kept his mouth shut, not saying a word even when spoken to, something Hunter warned her about when [____] got an emergency call from the Captain just twenty minutes ago while enjoying dinner and their company afterwards at the batch's housing.

Captain Rex loved every brother he ever served with, but there'd been a lot of evidence to support him having an especially strong attachment to a few in particular that included Echo.  

"Captain Rex was not afraid to throw punches when Crosshair called Echo "just another Reg" on the mission to find and extract him from the Techno Union if we could back on Skako Minor. It didn't help that Cross questioned Echo's loyalty after being left for dead on another mission during the Clone Wars. Something about a… cannon blast on Lola Sayu, right?"

"I do my best not to blame them: not exactly like they had the best circumstances to look for a body with the kinda hell that operation went to…" Echo said with a shrug, eyes fixed ahead as they took the long way around to her clinic. 

She'd whimpered pitifully at the thought of that. "O-okay that's enough of that… I've heard enough. Can't be a kriffing mess to take care of an emergency patient…" 

[____] has seen since meeting the Captain just how fiercely and deep his protective nature could go and the lengths at which he was willing to keep his brothers safe even if he wasn't their Captain in an official capacity anymore. He's going to shout himself red in the face given his way. She simply motions behind her to Hunter and he drops the item in her hand as she mentions it. "Mind the bacta spray, Rex." 

The blonde Clone hisses sharply when the mist hits the burned skin of his upper arm, breaking him out of his sixth rendition of "you are not going to "sell" Echo dressed as a military prototype droid!" with the shock of the chill, thanks to the cooling agent in the compound. "I did warn you..." [____] murmurs with a sympathetic smile. "Let me know if you're not quite numb in about… five minutes." Hunter keys in the increment into the timer, selecting a sound other than the default. "Can I get you anything to drink for the moment while we wait? Or perhaps a ration bar?" Now that the Captain had taken a moment to calm down, she could see he looked just slightly pale, weary and shaking as the adrenaline flushed itself out of his system. 

Hunter shook his head at the Captain as he began to speak, registering the look he's come to recognize in his significant other with much practice at this point. "No thank you, [____], I'll be-"

"Sorry, but "No" is not an option, Captain." Hunter warns him. He's come a long way since complying to the leftover compulsions of his already lower-than-average adherence to obedience within Clones by using rank quite so habitually like he once did. So has Rex, but sometimes, only sometimes, does he roll out the rank when talking to other survivors of the Clone Wars. "She means business." Hunter adds, nodding his head knowingly at [____]. A nod that tells the Captain to trust him, he knows what he's talking about. 

She understands Hunter's turning the floor back over to her, biting back a grateful smile for his help. "How long's it been since you've had something to eat, Rex?" The uncomfortable silence was enough to tell her it'd been long enough. The "simple recon and supply smuggling" must have gone on longer than the Captain and his other network members had initially anticipated. Or, it had been completed within the timeframe, and he hadn't been taking care of himself since. His blood sugar levels must be low and contributing to the tremor he's developed. "Okay: I see how it is. Need something more than a ration bar, then. Cross? Mind running back and grabbing a plate for Rex?" 

"... sure. I'll be back." he says in a muted voice. He's still acting cagey, not exactly eager in the first place to have walked with Tech down to the clinic when Rex had asked to hear the plan.

"You know your weapons, Crosshair. I want someone I trust to tell me what to look for in the aftermarkets after Tech goes over the plan you boys have pieced together so far." 

The plan had been an exercise of compromise and trust. Hunter, admittedly not much closer than before to coming to a decision in his involvement with confronting the Empire when he was concerned about keeping his sister and now a girlfriend safe and undetected than before the transport ship incident, had come to Echo with an idea on a data drive. 

"Hey, about the Captain's second mission… I'm not going to find myself on a list of brilliant strategists any time soon, but I think it would be a good way for you to assist him. I know you've been asking about how those in hiding now are adjusting. Take a look. See what you think and get back to me on it. I won't be offended if you tell me it's karking stupid." 

"You… you mean it? Even if it really is 'karking stupid'?" Echo had teased him, turning the data drive over in his hand to inspect it.

"I mean it. You wanna help Rex. Don't let me stop you from going just because I'm not quite as ready and decided still." 

Wrecker is the one who comes back with a tidily wrapped plate and a couple of "special short-term rations" instead of Crosshair five minutes after there's an on my way message from the marksman. 

Nodding to the blaster injury, Wrecker mumbles a sympathetic "Hey, Cap'n. That doesn't look good…" before initially handing him the generous portion of Tatooine Terrine and Ahrisa. He hesitates seeing the twisting expression of grief in Rex's face. 

Oh, right: General Skywalker of Tatooine… whatever had happened to him… had been Rex's commanding officer during the Clone Wars. That was a stupid thing to forget that some of his brothers had (oftentimes) taken interest in the native planets of their nat-born Generals. Captain Rex had probably been one of them. "Er… sorry Rex. Maybe you should take one of the vac-sealed sandwiches instead." 

"It's… fine, Wrecker. Just how come you came back with the food when Crosshair went to get it?" The boyish giant just grumbled incoherently while scratching around the back of his head, stepping to the side when [____] needs the sharps bin after giving the Captain a final stim shot. He wasn't sure how to answer, but thankfully she could find a way to satisfy the Captain's inquiry. "Omega doesn't like being home alone. So on the occasion the other five take on a job for credits that takes more than a few days off-planet, she gets to hang out with me and Spoon at my place. Crosshair probably just thought he'd let Wrecker come say hello and do a better job of explaining the vac-sealed rations he's made while keeping Omega company." 

Rex's face morphed into a confused frown. "How come Omega's not-" his gaze swung around to Hunter, eyebrow lifted high, "Omega never misses an opportunity to say hi. Was coming here to the clinic for a simple patch job really too dangerous for her to come along?" (What had happened this time that caused his brother's new-found protective streak to flare up that Omega didn't get to come? He'd hoped to give something to her…)

Hunter's jaw drops to say something, but he's waved off by both [____] and Wrecker. "No, nothing like that, Rex. Poor baby's got a stubborn case of the sniffles and mild fever she's trying to get over. Made it all the way through the usual season of various bugs that come crawling through this little spaceport without a scratch, but guess her luck just ran out." [____] frowns sympathetically, sharing a little look with Hunter. 

He's got shadows under his eyes from not sleeping so well the past two nights back at his place; the door to his bedroom open so he can better keep an ear out for his sister amidst the hum of the humidifier and the drone of the sound machine in her room. Every other little sound from the occasional pawhp! as the house settles to someone shuffling into the kitchen for some water jolts him awake each and every time. 

"Ah," Rex frowns, looking equally sympathetic, "poor little mite. Well, uh, let her know I hope she feels better soon." Maybe he'd give her the item some other time. 

"Can do." [____] promises. "Alright… that should be everything to take care of the blaster burn; anything else I can do for you while you're here, Rex? Afraid I don't have a bacta tank… just yet," she pauses and gives Tech a conspiratorial wink, "but I can probably manage most other things just fine." 

Rex finds Echo's eye before asking one simple question. "JOAT-med?"

"JOAT-med. Good advice and helpful talk-therapy, too." Echo simply confirms, and it suddenly explains a lot to the Captain without the need for additional questions. Hunter can't stop himself from breaking into a wicked grin, so proud of his girlfriend as [____] stood there chuckling nervously with a humble smile at the praise. 

Proud of her ingenuity and creative solutions that, much like some of Tech's ideas, often left him scratching his head. Proud she found resiliency and strength even after the hard, unhappy days time and time again just like Wrecker. Sharing the feelings of pride with Crosshair that some of the sniper's lessons about understanding your limits and knowing how to work with yourself rather than against have stuck (that she'd become more comfortable in being assertive and advocating for herself around Imperials). Proud of both her and Echo for strategizing and initiating that system together in the first place.

Hunter was proud of [____] for so much. 

Stars, he loved her so much. 

[____] pulls the bedding up to Omega's shoulders, running a hand over the youngster's hair soothingly. "Goodnight Omega. Feel better soon, okay? Hope you sleep well, sweetheart." The fever-reducer had successfully made the budding cough settle down enough that she could now get some rest with any luck.

"Goodnight…" Omega mumbles into her pillow, head hardly down long at all before her eyes are closed.

Footsteps soft, the medic plods across the room and turns on the humidifier and sound machine. Swirling, storming waves and thrumming rain. The soundscape is so deeply ingrained in every Clone, no matter how far they were flung across this expansive galaxy. 

When she's done there, she turns down the hall to her right from Omega's door and joins Hunter in the back bedroom, knowing exactly where she'll find him. The new, level-footed desk, gazing at the artwork hung above it on a freshly repainted wall.

A butterfly and a beautiful flower native to Kashyyyk. 

Soothing Sage. 

He's so absorbed in the line art Tech had rendered from his record of the joint-effort doodle she had made with Omega in the past that she's not immediately acknowledged when she steps in. "Heeeey, handsome… Omega should hopefully be sleeping soon. Came to say goodnight before I head home, Hunter." 

Hunter now looks at her, a soft pinch in his brows to go with the longing look that washes over every feature. The glance over his shoulder as he turns sideways in his chair to better face her is not missed. The neatly made bed is clothed in two beautiful shades of green that have replaced the old sheets. The second pillow he keeps next to his up against the headboard. The quilted, jewel-tone weighted blanket sits on top of the footlocker at the end of his bed; the expensive one with cooling technology she'd gotten for him to make their nights apart easier the longer they've been together. He hasn't used it the past two nights since his sister's gotten sick, however. 

"Could I convince you to stay…?" Hunter doesn't want her to leave - he never does, that is far from new but it is especially true tonight. The sunken skin and discoloration under his dark eyes adds to the persuasive power of the doleful and pleading look she's fixed with. He needs sleep. Not a nap here and there throughout the day to make up for the lack of adequate rest, but proper sleep. He looks at [____] imploringly, trying to find a compromise or some suggestion to break her silence while she stands over him, pinching open a blister packet to a mild painkiller tucked in one of the drawers as he's seated at the desk. 

She's mulling over her answer as she tries to prevent a headache for Hunter before it properly takes hold. (If he thought he'd hidden all the signs that the odor of the disinfectant was triggering a headache from her, he was mistaken.) 

She shrugs softly. "Maybe."

"At least… until I'm sure Omega's asleep?" he asks, hoping to quash the desperation he feels surging in him, the glimmer of hope in potentially convincing her. [____] plants the pearlescent pill in the palm of his hand, tucking his fingers around it. "I'll think about it while you take this, okay?" Hunter nods softly and obediently gets up to collect some water from the kitchen sink when she gives him a look to remind him he's not meant to dry-swallow the medication. "Right-right, sorry; old battlefield habits. I'll be right back."

Crosshair clears his throat softly from the neighboring room once he hears that Hunter left and shortly after something has him distracted in or near the kitchen. "You, uh... need some help with that, vod?"

"Hey. Doc." 

"Yeah, Cross?" She side-steps an inch closer to the wall, hearing the marksman do the same. She can imagine the roll of his eyes even through the wall as he speaks. "I'll keep an ear out for Omega tonight. Make sure the idiot gets some sleep, [____]." 

She blinks, surprised. "You're staying up?"

"Putting together more information for Echo to give to Captain Rex. I'll drop by your place and make sure your Tooka's fed if it means you stay." 

"Cross..." [____] sighs gently, touched. She'd been debating running home to grab some sleepwear and set Spoon up with food and water for the night in case she'd forgotten before joining her boyfriend and his family for dinner after hitting the 'fresher at home. She knew Hunter must really need that sleep if Crosshair was volunteering to deal with Spoon. 

Crosshair was getting slightly more insistent with the medic now. "I mean it, [____]. I will." 

"Okay, okay… I'll stay. Thank you. I hope she won't give you trouble." Spoon was getting more used to the snarky sniper, but she wasn't exactly curling up in his lap like when Hunter came to visit, either. 

The marksman chuckles gently. "Don't worry about me." Both hear Hunter returning from the kitchenette and slowly ease the door open down the hall to poke his head in Omega's room. He'd be back soon. "G'night, doc."

"Goodnight, Cross." [____] calls after him as he steps from his room, squeezing past Hunter as his brother carefully plods down to the end of the hall and pulls open the door. 

Kriff, he's adorable when he pouts. "O-oh," Hunter stammers when he steps back into his bedroom, watching as she hinges at the waist and hoists the heavy, jade-green blanket up on the bed, "so you're going home, then…?" Blanket meant he'd be sleeping solo and he hadn't convinced her this time. Dammit. 

But she surprises him; shaking her head, pulling the second, quilted cover across the bed once she's gotten it unfolded and dropping the second pillow he kept around for her near his before she drops to sit on the side of the bed. "No; I'm staying. Come on in and close the door, handsome. Crosshair offered to keep an ear out for your sister so you can get some sleep." Her dominant hand reaches to tenderly caress the side of his face when he comes closer and sits beside her, the pad of her thumb gingerly sweeping over the sensitive skin under his eyes. His eyes flutter closed and his head leans into the steady, trustworthy hand that cradles it. He trusts her so absolutely. Wholly. 

If you had told this son of Kamino that one day he'd leave his mother-world and find someone he would trust outside of his brothers (all of them really, but especially "his" batch) with his very life, Hunter would've looked at the wall full of tallies and just shaken his head. "Cute, but I don't think so. That's not really for me." A hundred-percent success rate didn't come with trusting so carelessly. Not just anyone could step into his accelerated life and offer to help take care of his brothers. A sister in the sea of perhaps a million brothers with "unaltered" first generation DNA. Himself.

"Y'know… I realized something." 

"Yeah, what's that?" 

"Wrecker was the one who put that hole in the panel in the attack shuttle's medbay, right? I know he and Tech tried to fix it, but-"

"Oh, yeah. Big guy and the nerd started getting antsy about it after I wasn't able to keep anything down by day six. Panel was just too kriffed and the scanner results were screwy. I started to get violent and paranoid-" 

"And that's when-"

"Tech found us the nearest planet with a small but highly recommended medical center to see if they would help." 

It felt too twisted and upsetting to credit the parasite that was trying to kill his brother with how their life ended up now. It felt like blame to thank Wrecker's moment of distress in ruining a part of their ship that forced them to seek out external help. Would it be appropriate to thank the mysterious power and the strange workings and will found in the Force, perhaps? Who really knew; who could really say? (In the end, did he really care about trying to puzzle that out when the sensation of her fingers in his hair felt so heavenly?)

At some point in time while he'd been lost in his thoughts, he found he'd been relieved of the red bandana, and it was neatly laid aside on the bedside furniture on top of his datapad. "[____]..." he moans breathlessly, his upper body melting against hers involuntarily when her hands reach to cradle the back of his head. "I don't have a headache, sweetheart…" 

She shushes him softly with a sage smile. "Uh-huh. Tell me to stop, then." Not expecting to be challenged, Hunter sits there, growing increasingly more dependent on her supporting him upright the longer he's silent. Every. Kriffing. Time she plays with his hair, nails grazing across his scalp and fingers trailing through his hair from root to end, he ends up falling asleep. He doesn't know how she does it. Not even Omega could figure it out when she tried doing the same for one of his headaches since [____] tried showing her how the day she didn't open her clinic and went with them to that mining planet instead. 

But Maker help him if he was going to ask her to stop. "Yeah… that's what I thought, handsome. Lay down now. Time to get some sleep." She turns off the bedside light after nudging him to scoot towards the wall, not bothering to change out of her comfortable clothing since showering a second time that night to rid herself of the antibac and disinfectant smells. She was so considerate of his heightened senses, gestures like these never failed to make him feel so loved. Cared for. 

And he felt so protected on the rare occasion his girlfriend pulled a role-reversal on nights like tonight, making him the little spoon in bed, one arm tucked around his waist comfortably, the other up near his head with her hand in his hair as she laid her cheek against his shoulder blade. "We really should to get you a pair of sleep clothes to keep here, one of these- ohhh kriff…" Hunter bites down the moan under his breath when her hands went from root to end at the top of his head, feeling the tension melt out of his neck and jaw at last. 

[____] had done this the night she and Hunter had gone to the concert for her favorite intergalactic band and he spent the night at her place instead of his. Echo, Tech and Omega had kicked him out of the house for the day so they could put a fresh coat of paint on his walls without the odor becoming bothersome for the expert tracker. Crosshair and Wrecker had tasked themselves with getting some new furniture and putting it together. The music group wasn't exactly his taste in music, perhaps, but Hunter vaguely recognized a song or two. 

He'd just been happy to spend time together with her. Hear that word out of her mouth for the first time, too, in reply to another concert-goer over the thumping bass and vocals.

"Hey, your friend has a pretty sick tattoo!" 

"Oh, he's not my friend! But yes, my boyfriend's tattoo is pretty "sick"!" 

Boyfriend. 

He no longer avoided calling [____] the same in kind; girlfriend. The word came so naturally, tugging his lips into a smile nearly every time. By Kamino's endless seas… Hunter loved her so much. 

"Picking up a bacta shipment for my girlfriend, her name is-" 

"Oh, really flattered, but I have a girlfriend and I'm very happy with her… And my brothers and sister really like her too." 

"Hey, buddy, you best step off if you know what's good for you, I heard she's taken." Someone stopped him in the shipyards once when she was getting ready to board her medical vessel, having volunteered herself to a week off-planet in assisting with intergalactic humanitarian efforts against a virus that was only affecting certain species. "Yeah, taken one of my shirts that I need later in the week, it turns out. That's my girlfriend." Hunter had returned the favor, drawing himself to his full height and leaning forward in the man's face to intimidate him. 

The man's warning was no noble act, because in truth he had been the one sniffing around [____]'s clinic and the shipyards with potentially ulterior, malicious motives. She had voiced her concerns on a couple of occasions that something about this creep was setting her teeth on edge every time she saw him. She very well could have been right about the man. Thankfully they never found out, because he'd never troubled her again to Hunter's knowledge.

"Sorry, Hunter! Gimme one second!" 

"No rush, mesh'la. I understand you're making sure you have everything you need to make people feel better. Like say after a bad fall." 

"What was that, handsome?" She hadn't heard the growled threat the unorthodox Clone had leveled the other man's way, and he hoped to keep it that way. Not out of shame, necessarily. Just didn't see the point in reminding her about the nuisance. 

There were more important things to remind [____] of, before he was completely asleep. (Maker, how was she so good at this?) "Mm... mesh'la?" 

"Yes, Hunter?" 

"Does Cross know to give Omega another dose in six hours?" 

"Wow…" she chuckles softly, a pleasant, almost tickling sensation he can feel through her chest against his back, "thinking of trying to sleep in tomorrow, are we?" Hunter yawns, wiggling deeper into the new mattress before he'll fall asleep very shortly. "For now…" 

"Heh. We'll see about that. Goodnight, handsome." [____] remarks knowingly, tucking her hand under her head as she too made herself comfortable. They're laying there, still and content, for several minutes before someone cuts the thread of silence one last time before sleep takes them both.

"No matter what the galaxy brings or where the future takes us… I love you." 

"I love you, too. Nothing in the galaxy will stop me from doing so…" the other promises before they both fall asleep and dream of their future together. 

Taglist: @dragonrider9905 @ladytano420​ @the-hexfiles @ilovethosebrowneyes9904 

Note from Frost: Well, that’s all folks. :’) With a hopefully nice ending for you to imagine for yourselves just how sickly sweet your happily ever after with Hunter ends up. 🩷  

I appreciate everyone who’s liked, commented and reblogged over the course of this series more than you could imagine as I’ve been getting my head back in the fanfiction game. Requests are now officially open for the time being, so check my pinned Masterlist for guidelines if you’re interested. 

If you’d like to be in the tag-list for those kinds of things or all my SW works [perhaps sans OC stories], please don’t be shy and let me know. Much love.  🩷

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[chaoticevilbean]

The Scariest Modpack

Because I wanted to write something for the funniest/scariest temporary smp ~ ~ ~

Sometimes, she really doesn’t want to wake up. She doesn’t want to move, or talk, or do anything more than stay and pretend that she’s still asleep. She lays there for a few extra minutes, until she hears the others stirring, and then she stands up, moves to grab some extra food, and starts the day properly.

The day tends to be stressful, tiresome, and full of chores, but she still prefers the day to the night, and she forever will here. She didn’t use to, but there’s no choice.

Here, the first diamond is for a jukebox, not an enchantment table.

Here, a music disc is more valuable than netherite.

Here, dandelions are better than iron at keeping monsters at bay.

She spends her time chopping wood, planting saplings, mining stone, hoping for ore, planting crops, fighting mobs, cooking food and smelting what little ore she got, fighting more mobs, and sleeping the moment the sun goes down. If she’s lucky, that’s all she does. If she’s not, she’s hiding behind stone from the loudest mob ever, or she’s making more flower crowns and collecting more dandelions, or wondering what the heck she’s looking at.

She has so much she wishes she could put down in a journal, but she didn’t wake up with one, and paper is for books, books are for bookshelves, bookshelves are for enchanting. Ink is not easy to get when getting wet makes her skin feel on fire and her clothes heavier than stone. Feathers are for arrows, though they’re lucky to only need a few now. One each, really, and some backups. Maybe… maybe she’ll get a journal soon.

She looks out over the dock, towards the other island. It’s currently undergoing what Joey calls “a makeover” and what she calls “extremely unnecessary landscaping”. She hasn’t said that to his face, but she’s always been a bit too nice for that. At the very least, Tiff is helping, and the chores are already done for a bit. They have infinity and she’s on lookout duty. They all have a stack, a stack of baked potatoes, and they have iron armor and two flower crowns each.

It’s been a while since she was alone here, without some goal or mission in mind. Even “keep watch” isn’t much right now. The watchtower is taller than ever, the project is actually more useful than she will ever admit - that’s a lie, she’ll agree when they get back - because she can see for miles, and they have the hint, the clue that maybe their friend is here. Maybe she’s out here, surviving like they are, and they’ll find her if she is.

Shelby sighs, reaching for the crafting table and her ax. She wants to make the roof of the tower better, if she’s nothing better to do. All oak, instead of oak and birch. Necessity calls very little for prettiness, except in the sense of glowberries and dandelions and mismatched beds and the casket in their room. The walls are cobbled and rough, the torches are placed wherever they were out of the way enough, and the chests are only in one area because she put them there when she got sick of it.

They’ve done some pretty things. A bit of landscaping and the dock. A chicken and a cat for their pets. Some less useful flowers by the doors…

But everything has its use. Mobility near their home and a place to fish from. Eggs and creeper protection.

She looks out over everything as she finishes up. There’re so many flowers, so many non-dandelion flowers that are just waiting for them. She could spend some time picking them, put them around their house (well, cave), maybe even get them a horse or a donkey while they’re at it. She doesn’t think they have even one saddle, but she’s itching for something that isn’t scary or tiring or necessary. Things like their bell, like the candle, like the carpet. Things like the spinel and the antennae and the leg in a beartrap.

Funny. She’s never been one for any sort of harsh or gruesome thing, not even much for violence, usually, but she’s found that silly thing more and more… welcoming, maybe? It reminds her of Joey, fresh back from thinking that building would explode on him, and then her and Tiff, and Tiff is saying she’ll leave that leg but get rid of the spine. It seems like home, as much as they have a home around here. It’s the same way she misses their chimney, which wasn’t even a chimney so much as a hole they punched through the dirt above them to let the smoke out, and then they put the trapdoor on so it wasn’t going to let just anything through, and then she kept using it instead of the door.

She laughs, remembering Joey rushing in and her throwing a flower crown at him, and him suddenly sighing in relief as the darkness faded from his sight and color bled back in. It’s easier to laugh, now, and maybe that’s just experience or maybe that’s just survival. Maybe she’s desensitized. Maybe it’s why she hasn’t cried.

Maybe she’s gone insane. It wouldn’t be the first time.

~

“See, Shelby? Much better. You’ll love it when you’re sitting up there watching us do all the work.”

Maybe once she might’ve defended herself, even jokingly, and poked at the fact that Joey tends to sleep the longest out of all them. Maybe once she might’ve even taken him seriously. But now… she’s learned his cues, his tells, and he’s smiling crookedly, just shy of suave, his eyes squinted on the side where the sun shines and his hair flopping in his eyes a bit. It’s the look he has when he wants her to roll her eyes, to show that she knows he’s joking, that she knows he sees the work she does.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says because of that, and Tiff knocks shoulders with her, and then Joey swings his arms around both of them and starts leading the group into the house. They did the most pressing chores earlier…

“Hey, guys?” They both give their attention. They used to give it loudly. Now they give it quietly. “Let’s pick some flowers. I think we should make the base prettier. Plus, we can get some dandelions while we’re out.”

“That sounds great,” Tiff says, shoulders sagging. “Let me just put away all these blocks first and then we can head out together.”

“Yeah, clear out our inventories. Shelby, you got any more food? I wanna keep a full stack as long as possible.”

She scoffs, and shoves his arm off, and goes to fetch the latest batch of potatoes. She also gets a few pumpkin pies each, since she’s finally got enough excess sugarcane and enough eggs that she’s tried it out. They’ll need another chicken, but she’s seen one around, and maybe they can just lead one in at some point.

“Oooh, when did we get pie?”

“I just made some. Let’s see if we can get some more chickens. We should be able to get seeds easily enough, anyways.”

“Yeah, and if we find a jungle, we can make cookies.”

“Joey, stop drooling.”

“Well, I’m just saying! We don’t get much meat around here, so I’d take something sweet instead if I had the option.”

“Tell you what, Joey. You get us some cows and a few of the hoppers from that lab place, and I’ll make us each a cake, how ‘bout that?”

Joey drops to his knees, jokingly pulling the most adoring face he can manage and taking her hands in his.

“Shelby, you are an angel in this wretched place. I worship the ground beneath your feet.”

“Great. Let’s go pick flowers.”

Necessary doesn’t have to be everything. Candles are useful but not as much as torches. Windows are great, but Tiff dyed them pink and purple, and they’re now so much better. Dandelions make flower crowns and take the darkness away, but alliums and poppies and roses and lilies and kindness flowers and azure bluets make smiles when they walk by.

Maybe…

Maybe she can get a journal soon.

~ ~ ~

She can’t hear anymore. It’s so loud, and she can see the arm reaching down the hole. She can’t hear, but the vibrations rock her to the core, shake her surroundings, and she’s lucky, she’s lucky, she’s lucky she’sluckysheslucky-

“SHELBY!”

She wakes up swinging, and maybe that’s why Joey is pressing down on her wrists and Tiff on her shoulders. She’s shaking-sweating-crying-gasping-drowning-

A flower crown is dropped on her head, and suddenly the shaking is over. It’s like the fight drains from her, like that scene in Lilo & Stitch where she puts the lei around his neck and he falls over. She feels like her chest is finally out of a tight constriction, like she was wedged in a gap and they’ve pulled her free.

She wonders if that’s what follows her. A nightmare or night-mare or whatever the heck they are.

“You good?”

Is she? Maybe. Maybe she’s good, but she also might not be. She feels tense, hungry, tired, stressed.

“I need a journal.”

They don’t question it. She’s upset that they don’t question it, but that’s nice of them, kind of them, shows how far they’ve all come-

“Okay. We should have a few extra books laying around. You just need ink and a feather, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll go kill a few squid. We could all use one, I think. Do we have any feathers left?”

“Chest by the door,” she gasps out. There are three. She’d told herself they were being saved as backups. That she didn’t have enough flint. She could’ve gotten flint easily. She had gravel in her pockets.

“Great. Let’s get ourselves some journals.”

And the day moves on. She gets up, grabs some extra food, chops wood and plants saplings and crops and mines and smelts and cooks and tidies up because she can and grabs more dandelions and makes a few flower crowns and puts on some music because today is not a good day and her brainpower is only half if she’s not wrong. Half is when things go bad. Half is when the words come and her vision goes black and white.

But at least there are no stalkers when she gets down that low. The bright side of things, she supposes.

[darkadelic]

༶ ﾟ🥀 ┄─ having dreams should be a goal that anyone should fulfill in life. it's what drives someone and bring happiness when living in a cruel soulless world. of course with big or "unreasonable" dream, there are those who loved to bring it down. grounding a dreamer to harsh reality. a person that comes to mind is mr. mishina, his dad. he had no clue about eikichi’s double life. being a perfect son at home, but to the outside world, plus his mom, he was michel; a flamboyant front man of a rock group called gas chamber. even with his father’s expectations for his son to run the family’s sushi restaurant; this would not stop eikichi to fulfill his dream. a dream since his first year of middle school. what is that dream? making his indie rock band famous! no more daydreaming in class or pretending to have screaming adoring crowd cheering his name while singing in the shower. no more what ifs. or letting his father dictate his life using fear. it's the year of making dreams happen.

even with a dream it was rough making it happen. gas chamber became like expired chips, stale. it was time to spice things up by introducing a new interesting act to their band. what better way of getting new blood than to put flyers around town and on the web. an advertisement saying, “new member needed for our vkei band gas chambers! any instrument welcomed. refreshments and food will be provided given a generous donation of 768 yen. new member will be announced to said member’s email. tryouts at sumaru prison. let’s kick some ass and show the world who gas chamber really are!!!! good luck!!!!”

on the day of the tryouts the call was answered by a few people with a variety of instruments. tambourines, lutes, cellos, and so much more! but something wasn’t clicking. the tryouts continued on and eikichi was not satisfied with some of the acts present. that was until the piano players’ turn to try out. At first dull, but soon this next person caught his eye, drawing it to the vibrant yellow scarf.

as soon as the stranger puts their portable keyboard down and their fingers dance across the keys; eikichi was entranced by the music like a snake being charmed by a pungi. eyes closed as his foot taps along with the beat of the music until the song ends. that sprit and enthusiasm to his art just clicked. right then and there all the bandmates knew they had their fifth member of gas chamber! so much so, the group of boys at the end of tryouts ran after the stranger stopping him to announcing the news. along with this news they presented him with a matching armband of the band’s logo.

a few weeks of band practice and nonband related activities; the rest of the members began to warm up to the newcomer and learn his name, ryoji mochizuki. perhaps having ryoji in the band or crossing paths with ladyuck, after their usual show at open mic night a flyer for a music competition appeared on the cafe’s bulletin board. the prize for the winners was a record deal with the company hosting the competition and what appears to be a large sum of yen. finally! gas chamber’s lucky break! no more performing at open mic nights or hole-in-the-wall bars! or half the time performing at karaoke bars. not only will they be performing to eikichi's small group of friends, but for a pack crowd! hell if the band was successful enough, a solid out stadium!

with this exciting development, gas chamber began the perpetration. fast forward a week before the competition, eikichi agreed to meet ryoji at the cafe that usually host the open mic night. this meeting was to practiced for the big day and give a makeover to ryoji. the new comer need a little michel flare to his look. eyeliner and all. his eyes shot up as soon as the bell above the door rang. a person with a recognizable yellow scarf stepped into the cafe.

❛❛ yo ryoji, get your ass over here!! you can’t keep the most handsome guy in the room waiting! ❜❜ 

@enshijou 💜'd for a plotted starter!

[samufigueiredo]

The dangers of longing for the picturesque - A Secret History Review

Just finished reading The Secret History and can’t help but be stuck thinking about the pursuit of aesthetic. It quite saddens me that the very obvious moral of this novel gets so easily lost at times, and the idea of finishing it and going back to my life of aesthetic pursuit sounds dreadful but expectable in this imagery fill age of quick dopamine.

I could make an extensive review solely complimenting the terrific writing of Donna Tartt and her plot construction, but I feel that to fall into the mistake of staying merely on the picturesque level and not drive into the base ideas entranced into it would be a massive disservice to the author. So instead, I will be exploring a bit of my personal relationship with this book and why I find it a valuable read.

“It has always been hard for me to talk about Julian without romanticizing him. In many ways, I loved him the most of all; and it is with him that I am most tempted to embroider, to flatter, to basically reinvent. I think that is because Julian himself was constantly in the process of reinventing the people and events around him, conferring kindness, or wisdom, or bravery, or charm, on actions which contained nothing of the sort. It was one of the reasons I loved him: for that flattering light in which he saw me, for the person I was when I was with him, for what it was he allowed me to be” (p. 576)

My entire life I feel like I have been constructing intricate characters of which the skin I can dress myself with, representing a capsule of ideas and values and how I desire to translate these to the exterior. My own name has been chosen on the basis of a character that could represent everything I wish I would be, as well as everything I wish I wasn’t nicely accompanied by people to love me for it anyways. As a queer person who grew up surrounded by social media and mental health issues, I often regard my life as an endless performance. Even my love for reading started as an attempt to be more like the people who read around me – I feel in love with the act of reading before I can remember falling in love with a book itself.

“Though Julian could be marvelously kind in difficult circumstances of all sorts, I sometimes got the feeling that he was less pleased by kindness itself than by the elegance of the gesture.” (p. 539)

If I search my memory well enough, I can find some vivid memories of playing dress up and makeover games in primary school. This was done with a notebook on the side, so I could make notes of everything I did to the animations and be able to do the same to myself later on. These lists of things I would do before the new year, new month, new week, were not just beauty centered. In my mind they translated into making friends, being positively perceived, having good grades and above else just having a clue of what I was doing and enjoying myself while doing it.

These lists become a ever present friend while I was growing up, and the act would be repeated in different media. The mannerisms of the beautiful and interesting character that was loved by everyone else, the Instagram account from which I saved pictures so I could inspire myself later, the Tumblr thread full off books that I must read no matter how much I lacked interest in some, the Pinterest albums that represented how I wished to be perceived in the coming year, and so on.

“I had spent dozens of hours studying the photographs as though if I stared at them long enough and longingly enough I would, by some sort of osmosis, be transported into their clear, pure silence. Even now I remember those pictures, like pictures in a storybook one loved as a child." (p.10)

I learned how to present myself and how to translate how I wanted to be perceived into aesthetic ideals before I could even quite grasp what those ideals meant, and until this day I have a hard time letting go of this desire for image base simplification.

“Viewed from a distance, his character projected an impression of solidity and wholeness which was in fact as insubstantial as a hologram; up close, he was all motes and light, you could pass your hand right through him. If you stepped back far enough, however, the illusion would click in again and there he would be, bigger than life, squinting at you from behind his little glasses and raking back a dank lock of hair with one hand. A character like his disintegrates under analysis. It can only be denned by the anecdote, the chance encounter or the sentence overheard.” (p. 438)

The morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs (p. 5) is culturally ingrained in us, and in the present, it can be interesting to consider what role does social media and image based websites have on this. We are all increasingly longing for outer beauty and constructing and shifting aesthetic ideals, so we can chase them and feel in control of how we are perceived and what our life is made of. But we often forgot that we also need to fill the shell itself. These aesthetics can be fun and even empowering at times, but on their own they will not make us fulfilled, they will fail in giving us a sense of community as well as one of individuality. And above all, they leave us with a sore taste in our mouths and a sense of disappointment, because the more we attempt to find fulfillment in them, the more we feel like the failure is in ourselves – the aesthetic is not the right one or we are not letting ourselves fall into it enough – and not in the chase itself.

“'After all, the appeal to stop being yourself, even for a little while, is very great,' he said. 'To escape the cognitive mode of experience, to transcend the accident of one's moment of being. (…) . But one mustn't underestimate the primal appeal – to lose one's self, lose it utterly. And in losing it be born to the principle of continuous life, outside the prison of mortality and time.” (p. 182)

And when does it stop? When does the disconnect become too striking to be ignored any longer? When does the romanization start to make the thing itself rotten and disappointing and how do we avoid that? When do we stop and recognize that just because we are deeply absorbed by this road it does not mean we should keep following it?

“There is nothing wrong with the love of Beauty. But Beauty – unless she is wed to something more meaningful – is always superficial. It is not that your Julian chooses solely to concentrate on certain, exalted things; it is that he chooses to ignore others equally as important.” (p. 577)

The imaginary world, the picturesque and its beauty, can be tremendous tools in driving through the madness of the real world. But on itself they are not enough, we need to find fulfillment in reality, and love in presence.

[mfganonymous]

sanderstober day 3! i knew I had to post a solid one since I skipped day 2 so this one is digital. so modern so new!!! I played it very safe for 'multiverse makeover' with a genderbend of shinichi from Detective Conan. don't ask where the soccer uniform came from i have literally no clue if that's what the uniform was help

my brother has not posted his day 3 yettt so he gets no free advertising today

[spearcast]

"Careful! This rose has quite a few thorns!"

If anyone remembers my overwatch oc................. I'd say you've been here too long but that really wasn't THAT long ago lmao

As always Rosalie got a bit of a makeover and redo when it comes to her background and general info!!! More under the read moreeee

A lot of her story is still the same. Her dad was still part of Overwatch (and before that was in the soldier enhancement program (SEP) alongside Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes), her mom was still a renowned botanist and geneticist, and it's still just Rosalie and her sisters left out of her whole family.

Stephen (aka Jupiter- we're going with the Roman deity/planet theme here!) was the test subject the SEP used to see just how super-strong a human could get. Thankfully, he was one of the few test subjects of that era to survive. I haven't worked out his other abilities, but he's almost as strong as Reinhardt, just in a smaller build. (Smaller compared to Rein, he's almost Doomfist's height!) He met Dione, his wife, before he joined up with the SEP- they already had their first daughter Sarah when the omnic crisis broke out. The testing was supposed to have made him sterile, but thst was proven wrong- not once, but twice!

He died under mysterious circumstances (he was killed by the person who blew up Overwatch HQ, all for getting too close to the truth) a few days before the destruction of OVW HQ. After both of these tragic events, Dione moved her kids from Philadelphia to her grandfather's home in Italy, near Rome. It is there that Rosalie got the idea for Venus/Aphrodite as a heroic visage, following in her father's footsteps. It was thst day when she was out with Mallory that they returned home only to find their mother and grandfather dead, and their eldest sister Sarah missing. From clues and eventual admission, she learned it was all done by Talon. This is when her true vigilante life began and she learned to use her power for good.

She's a little older in this iteration, only a few years younger than Cassidy and Mercy, and therefore grew up around heroes the way Pharah did- and the two of them were exceptionally close! And of COURSE, you won't have Rosalie Noble without McNoble Nobledy!!!

(This v is just a redraw of an old art smh sorry)

[thecondimentgal]

Oh! Alright, let’s see what this note is about. (She unfolds the note and hums as she reads it, staring at it blankly for a moment afterwards… before she slowly starts to blush.) Oh… oh god. Say, uh, that whole “matter of time” thing you were just talking about? That’s, uh, heh- gonna be a lot quicker than I thought it’d be huh, huh? (She pockets the note.) I-I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m completely down to grab a bite to eat with Paints! It’s just… well, see, I know a lot of tropes by heart now. It’s like I have a “sixth sense” that automatically tells me if something is going to pay off near the end of a movie, like clues or themes that circle back into becoming important, and I know that’s only really supposed to be for movies, but… it’s telling me right now that, when I go see them, we’re, y’know… definitely gonna have to confess our love for each other, huh? (She buries her face in her hands.) God, I am not looking forward to this…

All I’m gonna say for now is just, y’know, tell them I’m down… (She then suddenly remembers…) Oh yeah, and maybe don’t leave out the fact I kinda spent the day in your room and got a bit of a makeover. Y’know, to avoid the whole heart attack they’re obviously going to have when they see someone who looks vaguely like the nerd they know. (She laughs nervously, trying to lighten the anxiety-inducing situation a bit.) -🪭

(( oh by the way painty RPer/grian what’s your paintbrush blog again- since I feel like it’d be better to take it there when the whole lunch thing happens, whenever it does at least ))

Well, uh — good luck to you, Fan! Hope everything goes well with you two, and like, totally drop by and tell me the details.

I'd love to see it.

Just take your time when you're there. I think it'll all orchestrate itself perfectly, ya know?