#occasionally he makes things float. in the background

[wheucto]

instead of, like, actually announcing he’s an alien, fan just sprinkles little bread crumbs around so that if someone was actually inanimate insane enough to try and figure it out it can be revealed that way instead

[netflix]

Spotlight: Adam Stockhausen

Production Designer, The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar

Oscar winning production designer Adam Stockhausen (not pictured above, that’s Benedict Cumberbatch), whose work you may know from Wes Anderson films like The Grand Budapest Hotel, Asteroid City, The French Dispatch, Isle of Dogs, and Moonrise Kingdom, as well as titles like Bridge of Spies, and West Side Story (2021), took the time to answer some questions.

Which details from or aspects of The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar did you focus the most on while adapting it to the screen? How did you meld Roald Dahl and Wes’s worlds?

The details on this one started with Dahl’s writing hut! We matched the details pretty carefully and exactly. As soon as we step outside of the hut though we start to move through the world of the story and the world of the stage at the same time. Wes had the idea of how he wanted to do this from the very beginning. My main challenge was trying to figure out how to pull it off—making the parts move and getting each to have the right detail.

What’s a small change you made on a project that ended up having an unexpectedly significant impact? 

Lots of times this happens—where what seems like a small thing at the time becomes a very significant turning point. I’m in Berlin now writing this and remembering being here scouting for East Berlin for Bridge of Spies. We were struggling to find a section of town that still felt old enough to show the early 60s, and decided to take a chance on a quick search in Poland. That quick search changed the whole production plan and ultimately gave us the look of our East Berlin.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work? 

Technology has definitely changed the way we plan the work. We used to model everything in cardboard or sometimes just plan in two dimensions with pencil and paper. We can now plan in 3-dimensional space using modeling programs and see what real lenses will do.  This allows for more accurate planning and makes scenery moves like the casino set in Henry Sugar possible.

Do you have any signature easter eggs you like to leave? Any small details that you are particularly fond of? 

I wouldn’t say there are easter eggs in this one. But there are loads of special details! I think my favorite might be the levitation boxes where we painted a perspective view of the background onto a prop box. The actor sitting on the box appears to be floating in a very special and theatrical way.

Did you talk about reflecting the iconic Quentin Blake illustrations in production design? How would you go about doing that? 

Not really. They are such incredible drawings and I’d say they’ve been inspiring me since I saw them as a child! But for this the starting point was really the machine Wes devised to move us through the story—and pairing that to specific references scene by scene.

There is such an intentionality to the aesthetics of a Wes world. Is there a set or frame that took you a long time to get perfectly right? 

All of them! It’s a very labor-intensive process getting these frames right. Occasionally one will click right away, but usually it’s a process of refining and refining. The jungle for instance went from sketches to models to samples and back again several times before the final look settled.

If you had to present one frame that showcases the best of your work, what would it be? 

Oh my. Maybe the jungle? I really enjoyed making the jungle!

With all the moving sets in the trailer for The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar, it feels reminiscent of a theatre production. Are there distinct differences in approach between film and theatre and how much do you blur the lines between them in your work? 

I think the lines are blurred completely! Or maybe they aren’t even there. I love that Henry Sugar is so incredibly theatrical in its storytelling.  It allows us to show the artifice of the sets all the time which somehow makes them even more satisfying when they finally do line up and create a complete picture. I think the casino set is a perfect example—the pauses where it all lines up for a second are even more enjoyable because we get to see it broken apart and sliding away.

Thanks, Adam!

[mysteriesmuse]

Every single concept with ProHero Dynamite having socials and showcasing his s/o to the world only to receive a crazy online following response and get amazing PR points. IS. SO. GOOD. 👏

———— BUBBLEGUM POP————

Personally I like to imagine that Bakugou likes to do the occasional gym workout video. his socials include quite a lot of shirtless pics of him at the gym with kirishima anyway so he’s not opposed to having a gym livestream (he’s got a pretty solid following from his cooking videos!) And so Bakugou usually just sets up his phone or laptop on some shelf in the corner of the gym. The whole stream is just him going about his workout. In his tanned chiseled, glistening, and shirtless glory. The signature Dynamite scowl center frame! The videos are usually punctuated by him being greeted by various ProHeros floating around the gym. However, once again Red Riot is a frequent guest as he’s more often than not Bakugous spotter and gym buddy. - but there’s sometimes where you like to go to the gym with him. and despite the eccentric looking plethora of proheros his online followers seem to notice you whenever you do show up in the background. and it’s just little you tagging along, doing your own thing. usually you’re dressed up like you’re secretly supposed to be the star of this show. some cute little matching sports bra and bike shorts number, and a sporty updo, but you’re never actively interested in being on the stream. you’re understandably a little body self-consciousness in front of the camera, it’s completely normal, even tho ‘tsuki thinks you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. - you are damn gorgeous. yes, it’s a fact. and you actively try and take care of yourself

regardless Bakugou loves when you tag along. always moving things around in his duffel bag to accommodate your water bottle, wireless earbuds, and a spare towel. he knows you’ve gotta have these things. and he always has a spare hair tie on his wrist even tho his bag already has a healthy sprinkling of scrunches stuffed in the side pocket. ————

Katsuki’s checking his social media one week raising a brow as he sees your name popping up in all the comments from his last gym video

“the fuck’ what’s so crazy ‘bout what she’s doing in the background at 23:45??”

Bakugou curiously hovers his mouse over and finds that exact timestamp to see what these extras are all chatting about ??

and it’s just him doing some regular deadlift routine and he can’t figure out the hype until he starts to notice some movement behind him

“Huh?” and if he zooms in there’s a lil’ mini you on the screen absolutely lip-singing and strutting/ arm-dancing your little heart out over on the treadmill

and suddenly all those comments . . .

‘Y/N’s on fire 🔥’

‘PARTAYYY IN DA BACK’

‘Turn around.’ ‘ TURN AROUND DYNAMITE UR GIRLS GETTING IT BACK THERE’

‘does she have her earbuds in? WHAT is she listening to?? 🥹😂’

‘quick! someone tell @proherodynamite!’ . . . on his feed make perfect sense. and Katsuki just keeps replaying the little clip of you being in you own world. until he puts up one comment that blows up in response.

‘yes. she’s got her earbuds in you fuckin’ extras.’ —————

but you bet the next time you’re tagging along to the gym. the people are on a mission. On. A. Mission. and your bf Bakugou Katsuki, for that matter. so the next time you’re going he makes sure you have your “fuckin’ earbuds fully charged and all that shit’ “

and you just breeze past him in your neon pink outfit that reminds him too much of Pinky and press a chaste kiss to his cheek with a small “thanks” as his palm rests against the small of your back to steady yourself on your tiptoes in those chunky cushiony running shoes of yours

And he wanders off to set himself and the livestream fans up in a corner of the gym that’s got a good angle of you over at the treadmill area

And he can’t lie . . . he’s kinda invested. Bakugou is doing some mindless arm work so he can focus on the music playing in his earbuds from the Bluetooth pairing mode he has turned on so him and the fans are all watching as he grunts and walks over to grab another weight

“so far nothing yet” he mutters towards the laptop. It’s just your usual playlist that he recognizes filtering through his ear. All bubbly and pop. Just like you, he grins. catching a look over at your form walking it out; with that perfect posture you pride yourself on. your hair all done up in a bubble braid ponytail. - and yes he knows what that is he had to wait for you to do it before driving your ass over here. when suddenly your stride starts to change and Bakugous perceptive red eyes notice the way your face lights up and all of a sudden you’re glowing

like a queen caught up in your own world as the next song comes on

and it’s . . . BTS’s Dynamite . . ?!

that’s the one that’s got you strutting and dancing and lip singing all the way across the room?

And Katsukis back is to the livestream, facing you, as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“Of course,” you went ga-ga dancing to the one KPop song with HIS hero name as the title. Katsuki then, expertly schools his face back into the scowl as he turns to type in the chat to the livestream:

‘Attention Extras’: the song Y/N is listening to is Dynamite. 💥’

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Random Soap MacTavish headcanons {2}

sfw and nsfw

pairing: sgt. Soap MacTavish x reader (cod mw)

tags/tw: domestic stuff, fem!reader, smut, creampie, oral kink, groping, fingering, twt links (straight up porn)

a/n: if I have not seen the scene when Soap floats to he Scottish Highlands, it haven't happened. yes I'm in denial and will re-watch the mw2 campaign religiously, while living in my bubble, I shall feed all of those who wants to join me

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish MASTERLIST

sfw

-god this man chews gum a.fucking.lot, Soap always have a pack of gum in his pocket or bag

-sometimes you send him a look when he starts chewing with the front of his teeth and the sound gets just a tad bit too obnoxious, he always notices but there's two ways he reacts

-either he gives you a bashful smile and shrug before going back to whatever he's doing, mindful to not disturb you again

-or, he simply meets your gaze with arched brows, white gum on full display between his teeth as he offers you a boyish smile, that reaction always precedes his playful mood of teasing you with his chewing, a sharp pop sounding every now and then as he somehow manages to create little bubbles with a simple

-although Soap may be the shortest out of 141, this man is far from small, just put him in a setting where everyone isn't Ghost and he towers over most and it just so happens that you get reminded of it while almost every time you catch him working out

-you just throw him a glance and get kinda stunned when seeing the way your hulking powerhouse of a boyfriend beats the punching bag or throw around weights as if they weight absolutely nothing

-he loves swimming and water

-like, this man wants to go to any body of water at least once on his leave, sometimes just to sit and watch the wave crash against the beach, or the soft clucking of a lake

-sometimes he even takes a quick dip despite being in Scotland and the water impossibly is above 11

-you just watch him in disbelief as he strip and wades into the water until it reaches the middle of his thighs and he submerges himself, you blame it on the military for frying his cold-receptors, but he argues he's been likes this since being a wee lad

nsfw under the cut

-this mf is nasty, Soap loves to see his cum drip out of you and if you’ll let him, he’ll never want to prove his pull-out game is as strong as he boasts about

-sometimes, he is so in his head that he can’t rid himself of his boner until he can shoot his load inside you, jerks himself off with his tip resting just inside your pretty cunt

-ohmygod I just imagined Soap having an oral kink, but more so watching your lips wrap round things, your tongue running over whatever is sealed within your mouth

-of course he loves when you give him oral, having you sink to your knees before him with a football game in the background after a stressful day, he can see heaven the way his head cranes backwards

-but, it doesn't even need to be anything sexual, you can be licking an ice cream, a lollipop, Jesus Christ your fucking fingers from the sauce when you cook, he can't take his eyes off of you

-Soap is sweat in the bedroom, adores making you feel good and reach your high enough times until you push his hands away and lay there with a drunk smile, limbs slack, eyes half-lidded as they meet his adoringly

-however, sometimes he touches you because he wants to play

-you can be laying in bed, short tank top and panties on as he relaxes in joggers, and his fingers just starts running up and down your scantily clad bottom half

-it starts with Soap just running his hands over your arse, lower spine, until they dip again and he toys with your underwear, fingers occasionally slipping over your clothed pussy, pressing into the seam of your cunt before going back to groping your cheeks

-then he pushes it further, dipping his fingers beneath your panties to toy with your cunt, only to take your panties off altogether to lazily finger you

-he plays for a long time, feeling how you grew wetter and squirm all the more, in the end breathing a desperate pleading 'Johnny' and he knows it'll come because he never stops until it does, just wanting to see for how long you'll let him run his hands over you before getting to needy

[dingodad]

Ok, so this has driven me crazy for the longest time. What the fuck happened to post retcon Japsersprite? The one we know is from pre retcon, since he was on John’s planet when he brought it into the void. Nothing was ever mentioned to happen to post retcon Jaspers, so where is he. I can’t believe Hussie forgot about him, he didn’t forget about the two Nannasprites. Did post retcon Jaspersprite just not exist? Maybe he died on LOWAS when Typheus blew it up, but there is no mention of that at all. I guess only Jade or the Nanna’s would know then, but nothing is ever said about it. Also is there a way to know if the Arquius that becomes lord English is the pre or post retcon version?

i'm gunna play good cop bad cop here cus there's an answer you don't want to hear and then there's a sort of interesting consolation prize answer at the end.

the answer you don't want to hear: it doesn't matter! :P i don't think this really needs explaining but the whole point of davepeta/jasprose's ultimate self spiels is that tying yourself in knots trying to figure out who's "pre-retcon" and who's "post-retcon" is, as they say, for the birds. john is john is john. hussie didn't "forget" that there are supposed to be two jaspersprites: while a story can occasionally get away with having two Daves or two Roses because Dave and Rose have interesting things to say to themselves, the fact that homestuck has even ONE character called jaspersprite simply strains the reader's ability to give a shit. there is the room nor the need for TWO jaspersprites, of all the damnedest things.

(there can be two nannasprites because two nannasprites are funny - but if there's one thing worse than creating the same CHARACTER twice, it's telling the same JOKE twice.)

the other answer is about sprites in particular. do you know why video game graphics used to be called "sprites"? i only thought to look this up just recently: it's because, like the fairies or spirits of folklore from which they get their name, they float above the background of the game world without interacting with it directly. this should form the basis for our understanding of homestuck's kernelsprite, as well, which borrows both from folklore and from computer programming. they are of course ghosts on a literal level, with spritely undead tails and the ability to pass through walls and physical barriers like they weren't there - but the way they interact with the story itself is similarly ethereal-and-or-ephemeral.

sprites appear at the whim of the heroes to serve a very particular purpose - which, you will notice, is exactly what davepeta says they're doing when they show up in hell - but then the moment that purpose is complete they might as well stop existing. dave- and jadesprite show up inexplicably on the battlefield as the reckoning begins: are they killing themselves now that their purposes are complete? where are all the lususprites, anyway; did they do the same thing? erisolsprite initially seems to indicate that he's going to fuck off and possibly explode like all the other sprites who hate themselves, but then just shows up again 200 pages later later at the convenience of the trickster arc. the same is true of all the sprites presumed-dead following the events of GAME OVER, who show up as-needed in the new timeline to form the next generation of redundant ghost freaks. this is simply how sprites operate. whether they're "alive" or "dead" at any given moment is the wrong way of looking at it - they're ghosts for goodness' sake!!

the fact that the story never tells us what happened to "that other jaspersprite" is supposed to make us think less about it, not more, because knowing where one of them is - the "ultimate" one, in fact - should be enough to put our minds at ease. but it also deliberately leaves the door open for another jaspersprite to show up if the story ever somehow, against all odds, finds a place to squeeze one in. which is again exactly what the plot point is currently doing with sprites like erisol, who for all intents and purposes was dead up until the moment page 666 started

[improbable-outset]

𝐈𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐨𝐧-𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬:

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

Miguel O’Hara x fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 ★ || 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 ✎ || 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Hospital setting, memory loss, angst, emotional Miguel, married couple, wife!reader.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After waking up from a year-long coma, you find yourself in the hospital with the tender embrace of your husband sitting beside you. You have no memory of your marriage nor the life you shared together. As you try to navigate the scattered memories, Miguel becomes your guiding light through your journey of transcending memories.

𝐀/𝐍: It’s been a hot minute since I posted my writing on here. I’ve been working on my other series that’s AO3 exclusive so making this post in this layout brings back old memories. Anyways this is a two chapter story so enjoy getting your heart ripped from your chest :)) twice :D

You couldn’t remember how you got here nor could you remember how it even happened. For the longest time you’ve been surrounded by darkness and floating into nothingness. You felt disconnected from your surroundings and your physical realm though for some reason you would always hear a voice, echoing in the background occasionally.

“Por favor. Por favor, mi amor”

The voice would always sound distressed, almost begging for your attention that you couldn’t give. It served as a reminder that you were still alive but not fully present. You wanted desperately to reach out for that voice and see where it was coming from but you felt trapped, suspended in midair like an astronaut in space with no control over your body and no anchor to pull you down. You lost track on how long you have been like this but today, you felt a sensation on your fingertips. You started twitching your fingers, a sign that you finally had the ability to move your muscles on command.

Your senses were coming back now and you could feel the darkness fading away from your vision. You slowly fluttered your eyes open but they burnt momentarily against the sudden bright light that illuminated the new room. You started to take in your surroundings and the first thing you noticed was the tang of disinfectant and antiseptic that was woven in the cool, controlled air. You shifted your gaze from the bright ceiling to your side and was met with a man beside your hospital bed you were laying on. You couldn’t see his form but his skin was tanned with big arms and his hair was dark and pushed back. The most prominent feature was his sharp jaws and his red eyes that stared at you. You locked eyes with him and you could see his face light up when he saw your own eyes finally open.

“Mi amor? You’re awake!” Your heart clenched when you heard him speak. It was the same desperate voice you heard in your comatosed state, the voice that was pleading for you to wake up and now you could see who the voice belonged to.

“Awake?” You could only echoed back in confusion.

“Yes, sweetheart. You’ve been in a coma for a year. You’ve had a terrible accident but… Ay dios mío, you’re awake now and I can finally talk to you and hear your sweet voice.” He stood up from his seat and hovered over you as he spoke with a relief smile spread across his face. You could now see his physique in this position. He had broad shoulders and a muscular frame. He hesitantly held your fingers and rubbed the knuckles with his thumb. His fingers felt calloused yet his strokes and touches were gentle, almost like you were thin glass and would shatter at any sudden movement.

You tried to rack your brain and remember who he was. His name, it was on the tip of your tongue. You could feel it just about within your reach. “M-Miguel…” That was all your mind could remember.

“Yes. It’s me, Miguel. I’m here mi amor.” He said ecstatically, still maintaining a connection with you but you couldn’t reciprocate no matter how hard you tried. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel the same amount of happiness as Miguel, not when you couldn’t remember who he was. You must’ve been so deep in your thoughts trying to remember with a blank expression that Miguel's face dropped, the sparkle in his eyes now diminished. “Mi amor, what’s wrong? Do you not remember who I am?” He asked with concern laced in his voice. He still held onto your fingers as he spoke, afraid to let you go.

“I’m sorry…. I remember your name but…. I can’t identify who you are.” You could almost hear his heart crack after he heard you say that, but he still held onto your fingers, almost as if his touch will somehow reignite your memories.

“I’m your husband…we’ve been married for three years! Do you not remember that? Do you not remember us?” He croaked. The weight of the situation was crashing down on him like a violent storm, too fast to comprehend.

“I’m sorry… should I?” Your chest tightened. You just woke up from a coma and you were already causing so much pain.

“Yes you should. We’ve shared a life together. We’ve made so many memories. Mi vida please… I don’t want you to forget me.” He sank back into the seat beside the bed, his hands now shaking and his grip loosened.

“I wish I could understand what you’re talking about Miguel but my mind is blank.” Your gaze at him softened and all you could do was witness your husband’s torment as he tried to grasp onto straws.

“It’s like I’m losing you all over again…. You’re here but you’re not you.” He squeezed his eyes, tears threatening to fall.

“I wish I could comfort you right now. I want to believe you and I want to be that person you need but…I’m just so lost right now.” You found yourself caressing his fingers now in a feeble attempt to comfort his anguish.

“Then let me guide you in this darkness…Do you trust me, mi vida?” He held his gaze on you again, his eyes full of faith - faith to rebuild your relationship again which made you nod in agreement to his promise. You were lost in a sea of confusion and you didn’t have anyone else to trust right now and Miguel was the only one patient enough to help you. He was your anchor. “Do you remember my surname mi amor?” You thought hard about that. The answer was there but it wasn’t easily reachable as his first name.

“Uh-O…” you fumbled through your memories making Miguel gaze softly at your attempt to answer.

“It’s O’Hara. Miguel O’Hara. You know, you’d always used to call me Miggy and it would always brighten my day whenever I heard you say it.” He smiled at you again and you started to grow a fondness for it.

“O’Hara? So does that make me Mrs O’Hara?”

“Yes. We’re Mr and Mrs O’Hara.”

“Do we have children?” You started to panic a little. The thought of your children having a mother that didn’t remember any of them made your heart sink. You already caused pain on your husband from your memory loss - you didn’t want to pass it on to your children too.

“No, we don’t but we always did talk about it.” You thought how building a family with Miguel would be like, the man whose love for you was so strong, he waited a year for you to wake up from your coma and still withheld his patience to rebuild what you've lost. Even if you couldn’t remember anything about your husband, you could already tell he was an incredible man and would make an amazing father. “Is there anything I can do for you now, hermosa?” Your heart swelled at his concern over you. He wanted to make sure you were content and comfortable.

“I’d like some water please.”

“Sure. There’s a water fountain out in the halls so I won’t be long. I’ll be back okay?” As soon as he got up from his seat and left for the hallway, you took this opportunity to take in your surroundings again.The air felt still as if the room seemed to hold its breath after Miguel left. The sound of the cardiac monitor that was resting beside your bed was beeping rhythmically with tubes and wires that snaked around the digital monitor. You could hear distant footsteps and murmurs from outside your room along with a few nurses walking past. The blinds were closed but you could see through the gaps that outside was dark - it must’ve been late. The disinfectant scent that was lingering in the air had faded now. You noticed your hair was pretty long, reaching your waist and your nails grew significantly. You’ll definitely need to trim both. Before long, Miguel came back with a plastic cup.

“Here.” He handed you the cup with cold water. You glimpsed at his big arms that were in close proximity now and felt your cheeks warm a little before you took the cup from him.

“Thank you.” You quickly dismissed your thoughts and took small sips from the cup. It took a little effort for you to swallow. Your throat was dry from the lack of fluids and the sensation was a little overwhelming at first since your body was now readjusting to the water intake after ages. The water was starting to relieve the parched feeling in your throat and your mouth felt more refreshed and cold.

“How does it feel?” Miguel asked you, he could see you were struggling to intake your first few sip of the water.

“Good… just taking some time getting used to the feeling of the fluid in my throat.”

“I can imagine. Just take your time, okay?” He said reassuringly. You looked back at him again and your eyes fixated on his big arms that crossed over his chest as he watched you. Your face heated again but this time, Miguel noticed and gave you an amused look.

“Something caught your eye, hermosa?” There was a teasing glint in his expression, startling you from your deep thoughts.

“Oh no, n-nothing I was just…” you stammered, trying to come up with an answer without embarrassing yourself.

“Just what, mi amor?” He cocked his head to the side in curiosity. He knew where this was going and your flushed face only added to his amusement.

“Your arms… they’re really well-defined.” You murmured with the cup near your face, trying to hide your cheek.

“Oh you noticed hmm?” He shifted closer to you which didn’t help with your flustered state.

“Uh yeah… kinda hard not to, you know.” You took another sip of water before you spoke again, carefully choosing your next words without making yourself look like you weren’t just gawking at him. “So, do you work out? Is it for your job or just to keep in shape?”

“A little bit of both” he replied, his teasing tone changed to something more affectionate and genuine. “My job can be physically demanding but I also work out to find peace of mind and to find solace.”

“Physically demanding? What is your job exactly?” You could see the hesitation in his expression, almost like he was debating if he should tell you or not and there was something else from the look of his eyes that you couldn’t quite place - like he’s holding back something from you.

“It’s a little complicated… it’s not something I can easily explain. We’ll discuss it later, for now let’s focus on your recovery.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to pry. I let my curiosity get the best of me.”

“It’s natural to be curious especially in your situation when you’re trying to piece things together. Speaking of recovery though…” Miguel got up from his seat as he continued to speak, “I should probably call a nurse now so they can see if everything else is okay with you.” Moments later a nurse came into your room. She checked your records and made a note on everything. Throughout the examination you were feeling a little unnerved and your heart was racing with anticipation with a new person in the room but Miguel’s presence gave you the reassurance you needed. The first thing the nurse did was check your heart rate with her stethoscope, moving it across your chest. The cold metal on your skin made you shiver. However, you particularly didn’t like the blood pressure monitor squeezing your arm, but you endured it, waiting for it to be over while focusing on Miguel steady breathing beside you. Miguel gave your fingers a gentle squeeze, a silent sign of his presence. You let out a sigh of relief when the cuff released its grip and gave out your blood pressure readings.

The nurse followed up by asking you a series of questions about your medical history and what you remembered during the accident. There was evidence that you were struggling to answer her questions, not giving her solid replies. Miguel decided it was time to explain the current situation.

“Nurse,” the nurse turned her attention to Miguel. “My wife has experienced significant trauma. She doesn’t remember anything before the accident.” Miguel explained. You smiled in relief knowing that Miguel was still by your side and the weight of your unspoken fear has been acknowledged.

“I see,” she replied, her expression was unreadable but she still carried the gentle spirit. You didn’t like not knowing where this was going to go next. “Memory loss is common after such events. I’ll be sure to put that on her records. Other than that, her pulse is stable, her blood pressure is okay and her oxygen level is in normal range.” The nurse told Miguel.

“Do you know how long she’ll have to stay before she can be discharged?” Miguel asked, concern evident in his tone, you could tell he was desperate to take you home.

The nurse expression softens in understanding. “We’ll still need to run more tests to monitor her condition and evaluate her neurological status so I believe she’ll have to stay for a day or two.” The nurse's words carried weight that seemed to hang in the air. You watched the conversation exchange between your husband and the nurse and came to terms with the fact that this was your new life now, your new reality. Miguel’s eyes fixated on you again, reflecting hope and loss. Just as the nurse was about to leave, you finally spoke up, your voice quivering in uncertainty.

“Do you know why I might’ve lost my memory?” The nurse stopped in her tracks and looked back at you, her gaze seemed to soften.

“I’m sorry Mrs O’Hara. It’s hard to say now but my guess is it might be some sort of head trauma. It is a complex case and we’ll still need to run some more tests.” You sighed in disappointment at her response even though you didn’t expect her to give you a straight answer. This was going to take more effort to come to a conclusion.

“Thank you,” you said. The nurse gave a brief nod before she left, leaving you and Miguel alone again. Miguel turned back to you and sat back on the chair beside you. He reached for your hands and intertwined his fingers with yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“We’ll get through this mi vida, we’ll find the answers no matter how long it’ll take.” You leaned your forehead on his, tears spilled out of your eyes which Miguel wiped with his thumbs. A still silence settled around you but it wasn’t the suffocating kind. It was filled with hope and promises with whatever the journey would lay ahead.

Part two here!!!

[hunterevie]

Story - Surprise Adopted

Pairing - Castiel/Dean Winchester

Characters - Castiel, Dean Winchester and Jack Kline.

Rating - Teen

Word Count - 2696

Summary - After Dean takes Jack out for a father son bonding trip, they come home and tell Cas about their day. Jack, in his excitement, tells Cas that he was almost ‘surprise adopted.’ After Dean clarifies he means kidnapped it ends up in an argument between Cas and Dean.

Upset with how things went down, Dean tries to make it up to Cas and they have a heart to heart.

Cas was enjoying his time alone in the bunker. When Dean awoke in the morning he had persuaded him that it would be nice to take Jack out for a little while, just the two of them, for a bit of father and son bonding time. Although his husband complained and groaned like the tired bear he was before a cup of coffee, he did eventually relent. Cas knew it was just to keep him quiet so he could have his coffee but he didn’t care, seeing it as a small victory.

Cas smiled when he heard the bunker door open, the excited chattering of Jack and Dean filling the halls. It seemed as if everything had gone well. Putting his book down, he decided to move to the kitchen. Knowing that Deans first port of call after a long day would be another coffee, that or a beer. He floated into the kitchen, sitting at the table and waited for their arrival. Looking up and smiling as Jack walked in with Dean following not long behinds

“Hey Jack, did you have a good day with your father?” Castiel asked, ignoring the heated glare from Deans direction. Cas’s insistence of referring to Dean as Jacks second dad was a common argument between them both. His husband saw himself as more of an uncle figure rather than a father to the young being. Cas disagreed, as soon as they married Dean became Jacks second parent. It was something he would have to accept.

“It was great. We went to the zoo. Got hot dogs and burgers and then got some ice cream on the way home.” Jack took the chair opposite Castiel, fiddling with a little bag in his hand. In the background Dean was busy fixing himself a coffee, paying no attention to the two heavenly beings having a chat in his kitchen.

“I’m glad you had a good time with your father.” There was an annoyed grunt from Dean. Cas just choose to ignore him.

“I also bought you a little something.” The bag was handed over to Cas, who responded with a confused little look. Taking the bag from his sons hand before peering inside.

His eyes went impossibly soft at the tiny little soft toy in the bag. As he reached in Dean finally turned back towards the room, looking to Jack with a knowing smile. Eyes trained on his coffee when Cas finally looked back up to Jack, pulling out the little bee soft toy. Yellow and black with a happy little smile on its face.

“Jack it’s adorable. Thank you son.” Cas whispered.

“Told you he’d like it.” Dean said before he could stop himself.

“You got me this?”

“Erm no. Jack saw it and I persuaded him you’d like it. He wasn’t sure at first but I assured him you would find it sweet.” Without thinking, Cas stood from the chair, moving towards his husband, removing the coffee from his hands before pulling him in for a long hug and tender kiss on the cheek. Afterwards making his way to Jack and giving him a hug also. Going back to his chair with his little bee soon afterwards.

After that they just talked for a while. Jack yammering on about the animals in the zoo whilst Cas listened intently, occasionally turning to smile at his husband, and Dean just leaning against the breakfast bar, enjoying his coffee and relaxing after a hard day with Jack.

“Oh I also nearly got surprise adopted.” That confused him. He turned to his husband, wanting to gain a bit of clarity.

“Surprise adopted?” With his coffee done, Dean had his head bowed, the sound of running water cutting through the confused question from Cas.

“He was almost kidnapped.” Dean responded, nonchalantly. Barely paying any mind to the question as he washed up his used cup.

“Oh okay.” Deans lack of concern soothed Cas, that was until he played the words in his head again. His eyes widened as he looked at Jack, smiling on the other side of the table at him. “YOU WERE WHAT?” The yell startled Dean out of his chore, picking up the dish cloth before eying up his husband who was now staring between Jack and Dean. Wanting some kind of explanation to what he was hearing.

“Dean, I thought I asked you to look after our son.”

“Your son.” He said without thinking, a hard look in response came from Cas. Eyes narrowing in anger. Clearly it was not the time to discuss Jacks parentage.

“Our son.” He growled out. Irritated that even after all this time they were still having this discussion. “You said you would look after him. What happened?”

“It was just two guys I had a bit of beef with. It’s no big deal Cas. As you can see he’s fine.” The assurances were not working, Deans eyes flicked down to Cas’s flexing hand. Knowing he had upset his husband enough for his nervous tick to present itself.

“Jack, could you leave me to talk to your father for a minute.” Cas said, not looking at his adoptive son. Jack just shrugged his shoulders before leaving the room. Dean knew this was not a good sign. They were going to have a big argument and he didn’t want his kid to be watching.

“Let’s get this over with.” He mumbled, throwing a hand through his hair and sighing.

“What do you mean two men you had a beef with?” His voice was terrifyingly level considering the situation.

“They were two former hunters who thought I owed them some money.” Arms now crossed ahead of him, head towards the ground. Not wanting to look at his husband, knowing that he had disappointed him and it was better to be submissive in this conversation.

“So they decided to kidnap our son?” Again, his voice was scarily level. Almost calm even. Dean knew it was just the calm before the storm though

“They thought they could leverage him for money. But Cas, he was never in any danger.” Finally he looked up, green eyes meeting those blue, so full of anger the beautiful colouring of those eyes couldn’t be seen.

“Never in any…Dean he’s still a child.” There was a large booming voice from Cas now, sparks of electricity seemed to dance from the lights onto his body. The normally hidden wings made an appearance in the sudden shadows of the room. Dean refused to be intimidated though.

“He’s a god Cas. In case you have forgotten. The god. Even if things had gone south he would have been perfectly okay on his own.” As he spoke he could see the look of disbelief on his husbands face. Finally Cas stood from the chair, standing closer to Dean with his hands on his hips, head raised a little with a challenging look in his eyes. If that anger wasn’t directed at him, Dean would almost find it hot.

“That’s besides the point Dean. You’re his guardian and I requested you look after him. And you come back and tell me somebody tried to kidnap him?” His voice had gone an octave lower. Eyes boring into Deans own, making him feel uncomfortable, wanting to look away. But he couldn’t, knowing it would just anger his husband more.

“Cas you’re overreacting a little. Nothing happened. The kid is fine and even if somebody did take him he would still be fine. You’ve gotta relax man.” There was an attempt to keep his voice as light as possible, tender, soothing. Wanting to try and get Cas to calm a little and think a bit more logically. But it wasn’t working, the term ‘man’ only riled up the angel more.

“Relax…how can I relax? You aren’t taking this seriously enough Dean. I just….i don’t know if I can trust you alone with him now.” Those last words…stung. His heart dropped a little at them. Finding out that Cas no longer trusted him alone with Jack because of this one silly thing was such a gut puncher. He felt the tears forming in his eyes, willing them away so he didn’t let his husband catch on that he had hurt him.

“Cas?” Dean whispered, hand reaching out to him. When Cas refused to let him touch him, that’s when a stray tear fell down his cheek. He hated upsetting his husband, hated when they fought. After such a lovely day with Jack as well, it was a tough one to take. Dean wished he could just go back and start over from the moment he was given that cute little bee. Just told Cas what had happened, maybe he wouldn’t have been so angry now if he was a bit more forthcoming.

“I’m going to bed.” Cas said as he turned away, leaving the former hunter alone in the kitchen. When all was clear, he wiped away the tear that was falling down his cheek, looking around the room that was filled with happy chatter until only moments ago. The silence felt oppressive now.

Wanting to keep himself distracted, Dean decided to do a bit of a clean. Although his kitchen was always in a pristine condition, it helped to relax him keeping himself busy. He knew he needed to speak to Cas about everything, but wanted to give him the opportunity to cool off a little. Knowing that going into their bedroom would just cause another argument.

“Is Castiel okay?” Dean jumped at the voice of Jack, distracted by his own thoughts as to how he could make it up to his husband. He looked at Jack with a small heartbroken smile.

“Yeah, he just got a bit freaked out by your almost kidnapping. He will be fine.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to get you into trouble Dean.” Unconsciously he found himself closing the distance to Jack, pulling him in for a hug.

“It’s okay. It’s normal for married couples to fight. It’s just how it is.” And he and Cas had fought a lot, even before they were together. Arguing over cases, over Cas’s insistence on sacrificing himself for him, over whether he should submit to Michael, after Rowenas death.

He hated it though. Hated seeing how sad his husband was because of something he did. He knew he had to make things right.

“Look…why don’t you go pick a film out for us to watch and I’ll go try smooth things over with Cas. We will meet you in the Dean cave.” With that Jack uncoupled himself from Dean and scooted off down the hallway. Sighing Dean picked up the little bee toy and made his way to their bedroom.

Without knocking he pushed his way in, finding his husband lying as still as a statue on their bed, staring up at the ceiling unblinking. For a moment Dean just stood, watching, waiting to see if Cas would acknowledge him. But there was nothing, not even a look at the door. Dean signed, walking in and shutting the door behind him.

“You left your little bee at the table.” He said, holding out the little toy that Jack had bought for his husband. Finally Cas acknowledged him, sitting up, one leg bent with an arm resting on it as he looked up at his husband. The red around his eyes the evidence of him crying. Dean felt his heart break a little bit more, he hated he did this to him.

“Thanks handsome.” Okay he was still using his pet name, that was a good sign. He may have been angry but he had calmed down enough to be a little more warm and affectionate.

Dean made his way to the bed, sitting on the edge and holding the little bee out for Cas who gratefully accepted it.

“You know, he’s got a name?” There was an adorable little tilt of the head, clearly Cas was wondering if his husband had gone mad. “Jack named him Bertie the bee.” A snort of laughter, small smile and a shake of the head calmed Dean considerably. He knew things were going to be okay with them.

“I’m sorry for saying those awful things. I didn’t mean them.” Cas started, finally giving the eye contact that Dean craved so much. Instinctively he raised his hand, cupping Cas’s face gently and caressing his cheek.

“It’s okay sweetheart. It scared you and you reacted out of fear. It’s understandable. I don’t like it when I upset you.” Slowly he slid onto the bed next to Cas, his husband shifting over and laying back down pulling Dean into his chest. Hugging him tight. Finally the tension leaving both of their bodies with that one touch.

“You’re right though. I overreact.” One of his hands had started to wander up Deans back, softly caressing him. It took a few moments for Dean to feel the warmth of grace entering his muscles, helping to alleviate the tension he was feeling. His body became pliant as he melted into his husbands chest even further. “I sometimes forget he’s God. Anytime anything bad happens I just remember him as that fragile little life form in Kelly’s womb. I don’t associate our son as the most powerful being in the universe.”

“But he’s still a child. Even with that fact. And I forget that sometimes.” His hand locked with Cas’s, bringing it up and kissing him tenderly on the knuckles. “I should have paid more attention sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not. I don’t like the idea that you’re sad or don’t trust me with our son because of this.” When Dean felt Cas’s body tense again he started to worry. Thinking he had said something wrong again, but when he felt a hand pull at his chin so gently, tipping it up so their eyes locked together he instantly calmed again.

“Our son?” Although Cas’s voice sounded like it was going to break it was clearly through happiness. Dean decided to lean up and press a chaste kiss against his husbands lips.

“Of course sweetheart. He’s always been our son.” Another chaste kiss, a hand slowly caressing Cas’s side in the most tender way possible. “Can I…tell you a secret?”

“Always Dean.”

“I’ve been so scared that I wouldn’t be a good enough dad to Jack. That’s why whenever you call me his father I just…try and deflect. You’re just so good at it, such a natural. And I never thought I could live up to your expectations of me. I feel like I’ve disappointed you and I’m so sorry my angel. I’m really sorry.” It was Cas’s turn now to press a tender kiss to Deans lips, calm him of any worries about how he was as a father. A tiny whimper of contentment came from Deans lips, happy they were no longer fighting.

“You never disappoint me. You’re a great dad to Jack. And I wouldn’t want to be raising him with anybody else.”

“Thank you Cas.” Those beautiful green eyes filled with water at the confirmation he was a good father. For a little while longer they continued to cuddle up on the bed. Placing tender touches and gentle kisses to each other. Enjoying their own little bubble of happiness after their fight. Knowing that everything would be okay now they were on the same page again.

Suddenly Dean pulled away from Cas, a slightly wild look in his eyes.

“What?” Cas asked, a little worried at the sudden change in his husbands demeanour.

“I told Jack we would watch a film with him.” The wonderful smile and laugh that followed made Dean laugh also.

“Well I guess we better go keep our promises then.” In the blink of an eye he was standing by the bed, hand out to help Dean up, who gratefully accepted it. Cas bought him in for a warm embrace, hands wrapped around his neck as Dean looped his around his husbands waist.

“I love you Dean.”

“I love you to Cas. Let’s never fight again.”

“Deal.” And surprisingly, they never did.

[wonbokkies]

☆ my muse.

pairing. artist hwang hyunjin x gn reader.

genre. non-idol au, established relationship, fluff fluff fluffy.

word count. 814.

synopsis. you look through hyunjin's sketchbooks as he paints, sweetness ensues.

★ chus note. one four three i love hwang hyunjin ꒰✿ˊᗜˋ ꒱ ‹3

how could someone look so pretty sitting in the midst of painting?

there he was, the hwang hyunjin sitting in front of his canvas. the way his half tied up blonde hair frames his face so perfectly, his facial structure seemingly more defined under the dimmer light of the room, his full lips forming into a concentrated pout. god, the way he held a palette in one hand and his paintbrush in another.

you could only dreamily sigh, laying on hyunjin’s mattress while you watch as the blonde man moves his paintbrush along the blank canvas. eyes locked on his graceful strokes, following the stripe of colour appearing and bleeding onto the empty slate of a canvas. 

a song that you couldn’t quite place a finger on the title was quietly playing in the background and you hummed along, filling the comfortable silence between you and him.

glancing around hyunjin’s scattered but somehow organized room, walls covered with various posters of either his favourite musical artists or artworks he’s made in the past. you roll onto your stomach, propping your elbow upon his pillow and getting a better look of him.

“hyunjin-ah.” your voice was barely over a whisper, floating through the air and mixing in with the music.

he doesn’t turn away from his canvas, only speaking in that fond tone you hold dear. “yes, my flower?” 

“could i look through your artworks?”

hyunjin hummed, turning his head away from his artwork to properly look at you with a smile on his lips. “of course.” he takes a moment to point at the storage cubes beside him, “right over here, love.”

hopping off his mattress in delight and walking over to his side, getting a quick peek at his canvas. you were able to make out the various splashes of colour and your expression turns into awe, the talent his man has always brings you into a state of fascination, you adored everything he does. 

bending down beside hyunjin, extending your arms and taking a few of his sketchbooks into your arms. you wander back to his bed before taking the time to admire him once more. you could only wonder how you were able to catch someone like him.

hyunjin takes occasional glances towards your direction with adorning eyes, watching while your own sparkle as you looked through his drawings. his smile subconsciously widening the longer he stares.. until a familiar cover caught his eye, starting to panic internally.

“h.. hold— hold on! dont look through that one!” hyunjin squeaks out, but daring not to force it out of your hands.

you turn to hyunjin, curious in his sudden change of mood. “..ah?”

“my love..” a faint shade of pink was now apparent on hyunjins cheeks in embarrassment as he could only bashfully look away.

“oh..” you pause, fingers already looking at the sketchbook and recognizing a face that was appearing frequently while you flip through the pages. “hyune, is this.. me?” 

“well yes, you’re.. my muse.” he sheepishly rubs the nape of his neck with his free hand, looking awfully shy and quietly sighing. “as cheesy as it sounds, you’re just so perfect to draw.. the sweetest face i’ve ever seen.” hyunjin turns back to look at you, the prettiest smile gracing his features. “you’re like a red rose, my pretty.”

now, it was your turn for your cheeks to flush, shyly covering the lower half of your reddening face. you found him absolutely adorable, so charming.. endearing. how could he say these things and expect you not to swoon? 

tranquility soon falls between you and him again, not wanting to disturb him as hyunjin keeps painting. his song playlist continues to play along in the background and you don’t know how much time has passed before he beckons you over.

“my love, please come here.” hyunjin fully turning his body to properly glance at you, signaling he’s finished with his painting.

walking over to his side and you could only gape when seeing his newest artwork leaning closer to get a better look, realizing something. “is this us?”

hyunjin chuckles, it makes your heart skip a beat. “it’s based off us.”

you slowly nod your head, staring at the painted canvas then back at him, breaking into a smile and placing your hand onto his shoulder. “well, let me just..”

before the blonde man could say anything, you’ve already pulled him into a sweet kiss you could feel him suck in a breath against your mouth. his plump, pillowy lips perfectly mold with yours, as if two puzzle pieces connecting together.

his hand reaches up and his fingers curl around the nape of your neck, wanting to keep you close, needing you closer. wanting to keep his lips pressed against yours, relishing in the feeling as he releases a contented sigh.

he is your artist and you are his muse.

© wonbokkies on tumblr. please do not copy, repost, or plagiarize any of our works.

[cr4yolaas]

the night shift — forget about it

day 4 | masterlist | day 6

now playing: overslept (feat. mei ehara) by faye webster

there's bodies strewn all over the floor. hinata lays sprawled across the living room carpet, while yachi inhabits the couch with her arms folded and her head uncomfortably leaning on the stiff armrest. kenma is nowhere to be seen (more than likely, he had retreated to his own bedroom to escape the possibility of waking up feeling gross and tense). three men lay beside each other, all of them using their own clothes as some semblance of a pillow or blanket (she tries not to look at him with his sweater beneath his head. the sight reminds her of the jacket — his jacket — that's been collecting dust in the depths of her closet).

she tiptoes cautiously around the mass of limbs and heads, her own all too fuzzy and numb to really be aware of what she's doing. her feet guide her to the kitchen, and the pantry door stares her, wide open and waiting. her morality outweighs her exhaustion. breakfast for five? six? seven? will do.

quite frankly, she feels like shit.

it shows in her movements; in the less-than-delicate cracking of eggs and the overspilled oil on the counter, there's evidence of her heavy heart and the remnants of alcohol still in her system. there's three different pots and pans on the stove and it's beyond overstimulating. she's starting to regret her decision, until soft footsteps pad up to her, just as quiet as hers.

kageyama stands beside her, almost awkwardly. his sweatpants hang loosely from his hips and the old, worn t-shirt he bears is clearly about to give out during its next trip to the dryer. something about the sight makes her heart churn and her chest ache. it's too comforting, too warm.

"are you okay?" he whispers. heavy snores ring in the background. it's just them.

"yeah, why?"

he shakes his head. the deflection comes to her easily, and just as easily, he recognizes it. he recognizes her. he sees the tell-tale signs of redirection when she shifts the conversation to work and breakfast and other miscellaneous things that are mere fillers to something deeper. the events of two nights ago float around in his head — the yelling, the cursing, the heavy breaths and even heavier sighs. he wonders where it all went, if she really, really didn't mean it. he hopes it was misdirection, but he isn't sure if he'll ever truly know. so, for now, he just hopes he can forget about it and let it go.

she glances at him occasionally. he watches intently as she plates the food, her hands nearly slipping in some places and his own flinching almost instinctively in response. they're quiet. the stove clicks off and the exhaust fan whirrs to silence. kageyama grabs what he can from the counter and follows her to the table, the plates and bowls clinking in unison.

it's too peaceful, too comfortable. the apology that sat on the back of her throat since that shift dissolves, too scared of ruining the solitude they'd established. she bites the inside of her cheek, slowly gnawing at the skin in hopes that it'll take away the guilt in her stomach.

bonus:

ᡣ𐭩 one of my fav chapters so far text convo wise

ᡣ𐭩 my biggest weakness is def funny and interesting conversations that aren’t just for the plot 😭😭

ᡣ𐭩 tsukishima came over w yams (begrudgingly) hence why he ended up sleeping over w them

ᡣ𐭩 post-stream they were soo exhausted and so out of it no one was in a stable condition to get back home

ᡣ𐭩 projecting my deflection into yn super hard rn

ᡣ𐭩 kenma is so mean to kuroo n yn but he loves them i promise. he’s just on his man period every other day </3

[lights-camera-ask-tion]

Lights.... Camera.... EDD-TION... huh!!!! huh???... was that?? was that funny???......

Ok I'll leave. Whoops, it seems like our boys have been subjected to the hell that is community theater all for their individual reasons. Follow them on their many misadventures as they put together a nondescript play run by none other than EVIL- I mean normal director Bing Bingbong! (And his bodyguard Larry).

Here YOU can get some behind the curtain information on how the production is going, how cast and crews are doing and many other things of asking nature by pressing that little button at the top!

With that out of the way let's do a little role call for our cast here! Wait what do you mean only one (and a half) of our guys act in this?

more below! (*RULES AT VERY END!*) (sorry)

Edd (CREW • PROP/SET DESIGN)

Looking for a little extra cash one day Edd comes across a TV ad about a few spots open in the theater for an upcoming , unnamed production. Naturally his friends sat close by also watching. Together they decided they'd go in, try their hand at it and once the show was over put together all the money they got and split it equally. Edd easily got into props and set design because Bing knew he was an artist and for a director he's fairly lazy when it comes to assigning jobs and roles. Edd doesn't really struggle all too much with props and sets due to his prior painting experience. But the behind the stage activities and chaos get to him a bit. Needless to say he's just a inch more tired than his usual self

Matt (ACTOR • UNDERSTUDY)

Matt got assigned as an understudy for the lead role which he was pretty bummed out about at first! But as time went on the lead had fallen ill. Matt was the temporary lead! Good for him. Bing didn't really think about the repercussions of having Matt as an understudy for the lead but it's already pretty far in the show to change things around in Bing's eyes. He's just a bit stuck up... stuck up enough to make everything about himself and to be fair his, his well everything skills are a bit subpar. But not many people are signing up for this production he'll do!

Tom (BACKGROUND CHARACTER • AUDIO)

You would think Tom would just take one job but unfortunately just a week prior to this his guitar Susan had fallen apart (wow so unexpected amiright--.) In order to make enough money to fix her Tom had taken a background role. Should be easy, he has to say only one line! Well Tom doesn't know this yet but uhm! He has horrible stage fright, he freezes the instant he's made to act and this is just one miniscule line before he can just go back up to the sound stage and get that done but this one line stumps him. Will he be able to act by the end of pre-production??

Tord (LIGHTING)

Tord took lighting because it was there. Bing didn't care just as much as Tord and he could use a few dollars. Though he's the only one who openly finds it a bit weird that Bing is making a play that isn't even titled... and seemingly has little to no plot aside from a few things pulled from other movie scripts of Bing's past. He slacks off a lot and spends most of his time doing odd tasks and just floating around (occasionally causing mischief) (ok what am I saying he has purposely made stage lights fall on people before). He doesn't really like that the sound studio is right in the same room as the lighting booth. This will be fun.

Now that all the fun stuff is out of the way let's glance over at the rules and regulations!

----

-No proshippers or NSFW accounts allowed here!

- The people behind this account are both minors and would rather not have sexual asks or comments made about the au

- No ships are really present at the moment for right now this is mostly focused on the guys misadventures

- The main tag for all the tasks goes under "EDD-tion asks". Some non ask drawings and events will be shown under the tag "#EDD-tion comic". Occasionally art that isn't a ask or event will be under "#EDD-tion art." And for all who wish to draw fanart (would be very awesome!!) you can tag this account and or post under a fanart tag (#LCE fanart, #Lights, Camera Edd-tion (fanart/art) etc)

- As for non art related tags. "#Off-stage" is for out of character posts, "#Important" is for announcements.

---Enjoy the show!

[ariadosanon]

[A video is attached. The image of a smirking Rotom sits in the corner of the recording once again. Given Rotom’s good mood, Nictoria must still not have found it.]

The camera opened to show off Nictoria’s dingy room. Various energy drink cans and a scraps of smaller bug-type Pokémon’s legs lay scattered about. The woman herself sat in front of three computer screens in a partially broken gaming chair, held together by duct tape and a prayer. She looked content, staring at a Mewtube video with her Ariados in her lap. She pet the giant arachnid, occasionally imitating the chitters she made back at her. The giant Ariados wiggled its abdomen excitedly, making increasingly difficult sounds to imitate at its trainer. The Mewtube video droned on in the background, the talking avatar of a scantily clad demonesk lady moving around as the narrator explained in excruciating detail why ‘the woke mob’ has irreparably ruined the competitive battle scene in Galar.

Suddenly, the video stopped. The image of a video call flashed onto the screen, from no discernible application.

A man with long, oily, cobalt hair stood in the frame. His eyes were concealed with a large pair of reflective glasses. The room he stood in was strangely mechanical. Cold steel and haphazard wiring lined the walls, tended to by a lethargic swarm of Magnemite. The man spoke, startling Nictoria.

“Enjoying the comforts of government entrapment, young master Gonzap?”

She jumped a bit, nearly knocking her Ariados out of her chair. Nictoria regained her composure quickly and growled at the screen.

“Can’t you fucking knock?”

“Through a screen?” The man smirked, his smug aura absolutely infuriating.

“What do you want, Ardos?” Nictoria asked, her Ariados seeming to second the motion with an angry chitter, her hackles raised.

“Hello to you, too, Junior.” Ardos told the Pokémon, nodding at her curtly. His expression turned cold again as he folded his hands behind his back.

“I want an update on my Cacnea seed, if you would.” He requested. Raising a hand to stroke his beardless chin. “Things have been heating up over here, Victoria.” He said seriously. “I recently attended the ‘Team Rescue’ adoption event—

“I heard that was a load of shit.”

“It was. You in particular would have lost your temper with how violent the Pokémon who did manage to get adopted were with their new, inexperienced trainers.” He smirked yet again.

“You and your bleeding heart for the wellbeing of Orre—”

“Get to the point.” She demanded, “I was in the middle of something important.” She blatantly lied.

“Fine.” He shook his head at her impatience. “They released all the Pokémon they didn’t manage to pawn off into the wild. The PR says they solved this all of course— But it’s made the local wildlife that’s recently been crawling back from the depths of oblivion… much less agreeable.” His lip curled in disgust as he described the native Orrish Pokémon.

“I believe a less learned individual referred to these new native breeds as ‘nature healing.’”

Nictoria’s left eye twitched briefly.

“So what I’m hearing is, now that there’s actually wild Pokémon to worry about, your battle Pokémon are all beaten to rags.”

She pulled up a news page on her rightmost screen. The Orrish text praised their local professor. Below it sat a photo of Doctor Krane posting with photographic evidence of a newly discovered Ghost-Type.

“So now you want your Nat Cacnea and you want it now.” Nictoria raised an eyebrow at the screen, a nod confirming her suspicions. She stood up from her chair, gently placing her Ariados on the ground.

“Addisgon, follow.” She did a complicated wrist motion at her computer, summoning the shape of an extremely yellow Porygon out of it. The Pokémon morphed into a floating screen, carrying the image of Ardos after Nictoria.

“I know how dear to you these little mutants are.” He said seriously, waving a hand aside for emphasis. “I’ve taken all the necessary precautions to ensure it’s taken care of.”

“You better be.” Nictoria grumbled. “It’s not going to be like the Shadow Pokémon you’re used to. It won’t just listen. It’s gonna have feelings.” She said seriously.

The woman walked out of her room and down the hallway, eventually reaching the door to her garage. She flicked on the lights, revealing a large section of fold out tables. At least six. One table was covered in various power tools and apricorn shells. Likely Nictoria’s Pokeball making station. Prototype Pokeball shells of various colors lay scattered around the table. One was even painted with Voltorb eyes.

To the right of this table sat another fold out, this one supporting three plant pots. Nictoria walked over to this table, her Porygon following. The pots had a strange system rigged to them. A large, glass container of murky black liquid fed into three separate tubes, each sourcing to a different pot. While not constant, it seemed like the growing Cacnea were being deliberately exposed to the serum.

“As you can see by the coloration,” she began, pointing out the shockingly red color of the Cacnea’s forming caps, “They’re definitely undergoing some kind of change. I had basically already confirmed that grass types were the easiest to convert, but, it’s nice to have the extra data.” She stuck her finger in the jar of ooze, tasting it like one may fresh cookie dough.

“Excellent.” Ardos said, leaning in a bit to his monitor to get a better glimpse.

“And I assume that lone pot over there is your personal experiment?” He asked, angling the camera to a more hearty desk hidden in the far corner of the garage. The screen floated over to the pot, hovering over the growing plant. Unlike the three Cacnea, this plant was only watched over by a sunlamp. The spiny leaves peeking out from the dirt resembled that of a dandelion, reaching up to the artificial light.

“The torture-fodder you were rewarded with for helping that Alex fellow.” Ardos said. “The seeds of that intriguing grafted specimen.”

“Don’t call it that.” Nictoria snarled, walking up behind the Pory-screen and gently pushing it away from the pot. “It’s not ‘torture fodder.’”

“Oh?” Ardos adjusted his visor in questioning. “Don’t tell me, Gonzap, that you’ve grown affectionate for a Pokémon you haven’t even met?” He mocked his partner in crime, letting out a sly chuckle. “I’ve seen you pluck the leaves off of Oddish sproutlings for fun. What makes this one different? The mere fact you had to nurture it yourself?”

Nictoria’s eye twitched again briefly.

“I have plans for it.” She said, refusing to elaborate. “You’re not entitled to know until it comes to fruition.”

“How exciting.~” Ardos grinned as he shook his head, seemingly unconvinced that there was a plan.

“Regardless of your growing softness, the Cacnea look perfect so far. I’ve already wired you a little ‘down payment.’ How long has it been since you’ve seen a Teddiursa, Gonzap?”

It was Nictoria’s turn to grin now. She turned back to the monitor, practically glowing with enthusiasm. The mere notion of helpless Pokémon to ‘experiment’ with was enough to make her mood do a complete 180. Whatever it was she did to Teddiursa, it likely wasn’t something anyone with sense would enjoy baring witness to.

“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite associate, Ardos?” She asked in a sickly sweet voice, cupping her hands together dramatically.

“That you’re so nice to me? One of my best friends, even!”

“Don’t overdo it, young master.” He snorted.

“We’ll keep in touch. Tell Pinsir I said hello.”

[The recording abruptly cuts off there.]

[hardly-an-escape]

Among the Stars We are Reborn

Square: A4 - Creature: Phoenix Rating: T Word Count: 5399 Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling Warnings: No archive warnings apply Additional Tags: Dreamling Bingo fill, Creature: Phoenix, canon divergent, future fic, established relationship, science fiction, speculative fiction, space travel, Hob Gadling throughout history, Hob Gadling in space Summary: Some centuries in the future, Hob has taken to the stars, working as a freelance researcher and courier. He is on his way to one of Jupiter’s moons on a research mission when Dream joins him, and together they search for the elusive Ionian phoenix. Read on AO3 | fill for @dreamlingbingo

The funny thing was, it was never quiet in space. Hob had thought it would be, that first time he’d left the planet in his own ship... At some point he’d had formed the idea that once he got up there by himself, once he left the public spaceport and the press of overpopulation behind, he would leave the noise behind, too. Find, at last, a pure silence, the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in all his long life. Space, he’d thought, under the right circumstances, could be free of everything, of bugs and advertisements and other people, of every little noise. He’d been wrong.

The funny thing was, it was never quiet in space.

Hob had thought it would be, that first time he’d left the planet in his own ship.

Commercial spaceflights were loud, of course, and always had been – as bad as planes were, back in the day, and maybe even worse, during the longer flights to the Mars colonies – industrial-sized rockets generating industrial-sized noise ferrying care packages and flour and crying children across the solar system instead of cross-country. But at some point he had formed the idea that once he got up there by himself, once he left the public spaceport and the press of overpopulation behind, he would leave the noise behind, too.

Find, at last, a pure silence, the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in all his long life. Space, he’d thought, under the right circumstances, could be free of everything, of bugs and advertisements and other people, of every little noise.

He’d been wrong.

It wasn’t just that his little ship, new as she was, made her own small moans and groans on that first test run beyond the edge of Earth’s atmosphere. The crackle of the radio, the hum of the engines, the muted whistle of the air purifier – all these sounds could be turned off, and Hob had done so. He’d shut down everything but the most basic life support and floated in the liminal space between the Earth and the Moon for a full ten minutes, a tiny soap bubble in the darkness. He’d breathed deeply, taken his mind away from the sound of his own heartbeat, and listened.

Turns out, space makes its own music.

As the years went by, he gained a variety of descriptions of the music from other spacefarers who’d heard it too. Some of the more fanciful freelancers called it celestial jazz and discussed at length whether it followed a particular meter, if it was chromatic or pentatonic in scale, and other musical terms Hob barely understood.

A group of missionaries he met on a remote Martian outpost insisted that the music was the means by which God was expressing themself directly to the universe.

Scientists talked about background radiation and planetary resonance and something called vacuum atmospherics on which he read several papers before deciding, ruefully, that there were some mathematic principles which he would simply never understand.

He’d asked Dream about it, once. Had even shut down all systems like he had that first time, just to listen. (He still does, occasionally, because whatever it is, it is beautiful.)

What is it? he’d asked. You must know.

And Dream had smirked that particular Endless smirk that drove Hob mad, and drawn him away from the viewscreen and its twinkling miniature Earth.

Stars dream, too, Hob Gadling.

And that had been all Hob had been able to glean from his lover on the subject.

Hob’s ship was not a thing of beauty. Her design was far too boxy and utilitarian for that. But Hob loved his snug little vessel with an almost obsessive affection. She reminded him of a camper van he’d had in the 1960s, or the massive rolltop desk he’d put in his study in the late 1800s, everything folded away in neat drawers and cubby holes, not an inch wasted. He reveled in it every time he made ready for a trip: packing away his clothes and gear, choosing rations, replacing the air filters, checking the water purifier and the drip lines on his tiny hydroponic garden.

And, crucially, she was all his.

Even the New Inn, way back when, hadn’t really been all his. There’d been investors and mortgage holders and zoning committees and eventually the National Heritage List to contend with, and while Hob had been the one to pick the lighting fixtures and design the wooden inlay on the bar, it had always been fundamentally a group project. Not to mention that its very purpose was to serve as a gathering place, a safe space for anyone who happened to walk through the door.

Not so his spaceship. All right, he hadn’t built her himself – despite his best efforts, he would never be more than a mediocre aerospace engineer – but Hob had spent weeks at the dealership, poring over schematics and blueprints, personally choosing the design of every single cubic centimeter. The sales associate had leered a little when Hob insisted on a double-wide bunk, given that all the other specs were for single occupancy – but he was paying cash, not financing, so it wasn’t like they were going to argue with him.

He’d known it was worth a little leering, the first time he and Dream had wrapped their arms around each other and gazed out the tiny porthole window at the stars, so close you could almost reach out and touch them.

Dream had been with him when his ship was delivered to the public spaceport nearest Hob’s flat. They’d walked around her together, Dream smiling slightly as Hob enthusiastically described the engines and pointed out the retractable heat shields. His long fingers had trailed over the official designation engraved on the side – Hob still thought of it as a license plate, like on his car – and he’d raised an eyebrow.

“I know,” Hob had laughed. “Can you believe it?”

“You did not choose this number on purpose?”

“Believe it or not, no. They’re automatically assigned during manufacture, randomly generated so each one is unique. This is pure human coincidence, my friend. Or maybe fate, who knows – we’ll have to ask your brother. Not that he’ll tell us.”

Dream had traced the numbers again: UKCS-001389, big and bold. Then he’d smiled.

“Come, take me inside,” he’d said. “I would see that my beloved will live well among the stars.”

Hob had locked the hatch behind them.

Later, after Hob had showed off every corner and cubbyhole, and after they had thoroughly evaluated the comfort and structural integrity of the double-wide bunk, they’d sprawled together, fingers finding new patterns on familiar skin.

“Have you given any thought as to what you might name her?” Dream had asked idly.

“Some. My first idea was to call her the Robin.” Hob had sighed. “I liked to think of that name flying off to the moon and other planets – but it was already taken and the UKSA doesn’t allow for duplicates.”

“And your second choice?”

“Well,” Hob had turned and run the backs of his knuckles down Dream’s cheek. “I do have another idea. But I wanted to ask you about it first. I was thinking… well, you’ve told me so much about her… I was thinking, I might name her Jessamy.”

Dream’s head had turned slowly toward Hob, an inscrutable look in his eye.

“I know it was a while ago now, even by our standards. But she was with you for so long. She loved you, protected you –”

“And failed, in the end,” he’d said thickly. “And died.”

“She didn’t fail. And I don’t think her death is the most important thing about her. I mean, I don’t think it’s bad luck or anything, you know? It’s only one bad moment in a long, long string of good ones. And, you know,” he had stumbled gamely on, “I like the idea that part of her – part of you – would be traveling with me. A new adventure. It would make me feel… close to you, if she were with me. When you aren’t here.”

Dream had simply looked at him, for a long moment, and then pushed him onto his back and rolled on top of him, kissing him slowly and sweetly and deeply.

“Even after all this time, the depth of your heart never fails to astonish me. I would be honored,” he’d said, “if Jessamy were to fly again with you. And so, I think, would she.”

The next day, Hob had gone to the nearest Space Agency office, waited in an interminable line, and officially registered UK Civilian Ship 001389 as the Jessamy.

A week later, she flew for the first time. Or again, depending on how you measure it. And thus the newest chapter in Hob’s long life had begun.

Read the rest on AO3 >>>

many thanks to @tryan-a-bex for the beta read!

green = complete, orange = WIP

[spiritshaydra]

Was tagged by @novafire-is-thinking ! Sorry for taking a hot minute to do mine 😭 I also decided to do ten songs because I have

A lot

Of trouble

Narrowing it down to just five (hell even ten was hard)

ANYWAYS

All of these are taken from my playlist uhhhhhh

That

Which is like,,, every song that remotely scratched my brain the slightest bit. ANYWAYS THE CHOICES. I tried picking songs I haven’t shared here before, with each being from a different artist, and each kinda having their own sound :} (I’ll also be adding why I like each one, what it makes me think of, what parts I like, etc)

Native Colossus - Shield of Wings Spotify|Youtube

HOOOOO BOY OKAY SO- this one makes me think of the lead up to a clash between gods, if not the actual battle itself. I’m talking reality shredding, time shattering, shows of power. Like a battle between two creation gods. I picture one of them descending from the sky with an incomprehensible form, rings circling around it like clockwork, its presence stretching across the horizon. This one is the one that’s defending with the other being an invading force that’s already on the ground.

Maybe this is the brutal battle that resulted in the patch of irreparable dead space in my original work? An area of space time that’s so badly shattered that nothing can stitch it back together. It’s the only remnant of the Old Universe.

I just think this thing sounds badass 10/10 great song to have my eyes stare blankly at a wall to

Free - Mother Mother Spotify|Youtube

I just love the part in this song that goes:

“A bloody war, right behind my eyes. I come out right on the other side. So close the door, and shut the blinds. I’ll come out right on the other side.”

There’s something about that part that itches my brain SO GOOD. Like I can picture animating something to that SO VIVIDLY. AUGH. Just,, something about two characters going through absolute hell while staying by each other’s side the entire time,,,

Strangers to Ourselves - Modest Mouse Spotify|Youtube

OKAY THIS ONE. Normally when you hear Modest Mouse, you think of songs like Float on, Dashboard, The Ground Walks With Time in a Box, or The Ocean Breathes Salty; which are all more energetic(?) songs with Dashboard and Ground Walks being VERY high energy. But Strangers to Ourselves is,,, not that. It’s very lowkey and subdued and has a good atmospheric sound to it that I really like. The slow steady bass line done on what sounds like a cello in the background accompanied with the occasional guitar just makes for a really nice song that makes me think of winding down for the night.

Whenever I do plan on making a long form comic with chapters and the like, I want to do these “credits outros” in between chapters that each use a different song that matches the chapter before it, with each one being somewhat animated. This is one of the top contenders for this one story I want to write/illustrate called Meridian. It would show a variety of locations at sunset- the countryside, the city skyline, the character bases all winding down for the night. Maybe showing various characters as they close up shop. Just,, all around a chill quiet vibe leaning towards the somber.

De Selby (part 2) - Hozier Spotify|Youtube

This one was a recent discovery for me and one that I REALLY like.

I specifically love the chorus parts that goes

“Want to be when you fall on me like night every time, and I want to be so far from sight and mind. I wanna kill the lights. I wanna run against the world that’s turnin’, I’d move so fast I’d outpace the dawn. I wanna be gone. I wanna run so far, I’d beat the mornin’. Before the dawn has come, I’d block the sun, if you want it done.”

There’s something about it that makes my brain feel like,,, I dunno how to describe it,, like stars? Going by really fast as I fall backwards into the void but I’m also not actually moving anywhere.

Also GREAT animation fodder methinks.

Oh no, he Said What? - Nothing but Thieves Spotify|Youtube

Can’t be a Spit music list without at least one Nothing but Thieves song <3 anyways~

This is one of their more recent songs and it’s also one I think is REALLY fun to listen to because it’s got a sort of beat and melody to it that makes you feel like you could dance to it (I cannot dance but I still try) it also sounds like one that would be FUN to play live, especially from the vocals side of things. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t consider trying to cover it myself. Nobody wants to hear that and I don’t have the proper gear to record my voice 💀

The lyrics I like from this one are

“So did you find that thing you're looking for? Does it make you feel alive? Wait, he said what?He'll start a war, tear down the planet for the hype. You know it always ends the same, honesty’s a losing game. It died a long, long time ago with your favorite god. He said what? Oh no, we have lost control. Have you seen the video? But for heaven’s sake don’t ever let the, let the people know, oh no.”

Also GREAT animation fodder as well. I can see it EASILY being either 404 (my personal project) or fandom related. It just depends on what’s rotting my brain in the moment I either listen to it or decide to actually animate it.

I’m also really hoping to be able to see them live again in October, assuming I’m able to pass my driving test next week :,D I kinda need a driver’s license to drive back home from campus in order to even go to the show,, (NBT is AMAZING live btw)

Shut Eye - Stealing Sheep Spotify|Youtube

THIS ONE. MAKES MY BRAIN FEEL TRIPPY. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT HITS THE CHORUS. I’d say it’s animation fodder but I honestly have no idea what I’d animate other than it would be trippy to match the beat and just yeah I don’t know how to describe this one. I’m pretty sure I discovered it from someone’s animation project years ago? I only rediscovered it recently where it hit me like a train. A GREAT song to disassociate to because of the way it makes my brain feel if that makes sense. The colors and movement my brain comes up with when listening to this one is very fun :)

Curses - The Crane Wives Spotify|Youtube

OUGH. THIS. Is a song I get SUPER INTO when singing along to it. GREAT animation fodder. I’m not entirely sure if I’d do 404 or fandom for this one but MAN it SLAPS.

The part I get super into is

“Oh, ashes, ashes, dust to dust, the devil's after both of us. Ooh, lay my curses out to rest, make a mercy out of me. Oh, ashes, ashes, dust to dust, tell me I am good enough. Ooh, lay my curses out to rest, make a mercy out of-“

I know somewhere in my backlog of characters that’s a hundred OCs long I GOT to have SOMEONE that fits this if I do go the 404 route. (Hell might even have a fandom OC that fits, somewhere in between all the TFP and PMD Oblivion lmao)

Blackout - Breathe Carolina Spotify|Youtube

AYO WE GOT A SONG I DISCOVERED ON FLIPNOTE BACK IN LIKE 2012. AND I THINK ITS A BOP.

Edgy? Hell yeah. Do I care? Absolutely not.

Since I DID discover it on Flipnote Hatena back in the day, I obviously think this is animation fodder. But specifically in the style of the old Flipnotes that I miss oh so dearly.

I think I found it on a Pokemon Flipnote..? So might keep it in the spirit of that by making it a PMD Oblivion AMV.

Exit Strategy of a Wrecking Ball - Diablo Swing Orchestra Spotify|Youtube

OKAY THIS ONE. THIS IS A SONG THAT I THINK HAS AN INCREDIBLE INSTRUMENTAL WITH VOCALS TO MATCH.

I think I’d consider its vocals to sound almost haunting? It just sounds. SO. COOL.

The amount of different instruments I hear in it too is really cool too?? Like I can hear brass and classical strings during the breakdown of the chorus and it just leads to SUCH A BADASS SOUND. Like you have the heavy rock sound with the guitars and drums, but then there’s horns and strings as well?? It’s such a unique sound. Tbh Diablo Swing Orchestra as a whole has a very unique sound from what I’ve heard.

My brain also gives me fun visuals when listening to it. Lots of spiraling color when the chorus happens.

Hold on - Belle Sisosky Spotify|Youtube

Tumblr keeps refusing to save this post for whatever reason >:( It’s too powerful. Had to switch to desktop to even finish editing it. 💀

ANYWAYS. THIS SONG. SOUNDS SO COOL. It gives me a HUGE cyberpunk sort of vibe, and I’m honestly just a huge sucker for EDM music that has the low chanting in the background because I think it has such a cool sounding effect. (ESPECIALLY Mongolian throat singing) Also what’s really neat about this song (and pretty much all of her music) is that it uses a LOT of instruments you basically never hear in mainstream music, ESPECIALLY in pop. Some of the instruments include the Tapi’, the Hulusi flute, the Guzheng, the Angklung, the Sabe, and the pratuokng. 

TAGGING @mysticfoxdesigns @errolluck @sonicspacebar @jessenitrogen @aer-arts

@aer-arts @deathlypancakes @antiqueberry @zyanova @aecho-again AND ANYONE ELSE WHO WANTS IN

[ryuki23]

Don Kaito Is The Zenkaiger Arrow: A 100% Serious Theory (No Really I'm Not Lying)

Now that the Donbrothers finale has come and gone without giving us any answers about what the FUCK is up with Don Kaito (and I'd expect nothing less 10/10 no notes), I'm finally free to explain all about my most beloved theory/headcanon without fear that it will be disproved in the next week!

Basically, I think Don Kaito is something like what AkaRed is for Red Rangers, but for ALL rangers, and/or the idea/ideals/will of Super Sentai as a whole.

In his own words,

Background Info

AkaRed is the embodiment of the spirit of all Red Rangers, although the specifics of what that means and how it works isn't super elaborated on anywhere, he mostly just shows up occasionally to be a weird slightly cryptic guide to other Sentai. Much like another character I could name... 🤔

The possibility of an AoBlue/AkaBlue is jokingly brought up once in a Zyuohger special, but other than that nothing and no one else like AkaRed is ever shown or mentioned. EXCEPT...

*DRAMATIC GASP* Goran no Sponsor???? (no joke this is exactly how I reacted when I got to this part jkbjsdfgf)

So, in the penultimate episode of Zenkaiger, they're fighting the Big Bad, who has absorbed all the other Super Sentai's worlds and can use their powers. The Zenkaigers seem completely outmatched, and the Big Bad's final attack knocks them out of henshin and breaks their Sentai Gears so they can't transform again. But they get up anyway, declaring their resolve to fight even untransformed to save the worlds the other Sentai fought to protect. And then, this happens:

All the previous Sentai's powers respond to this and leave the Big Bad, lending their power to the Zenkaigers to make them new Gears. While this is happening, the Zenkaigers are transported to this place, where all the symbols of past Sentai float around the Zenkaiger Arrow, which they seem to be forming.

Basically, these powers have their own will, and all of them together are symbolized by the Zenkaiger Arrow. Which, I might add, is frequently shown in the rest of the series reacting to comedic moments and interacting with other characters.

So why do I think this arrow and Don Kaito are one and the same?

Well, because it's a fun idea to think about mostly! Honestly, it just came to me out of nowhere in the middle of the night and that's it. But the more I thought about it, the more things that happen in canon I found that could support it.

1: Hitotsuki and Sentai Gears

Hitotsuki that are based on past Sentai seasons drop Gears when defeated, no matter who defeats them or how they do it. And most of the time, regardless of who defeats them, the Gear ends up in Don Kaito's possession. That kind of makes it feel like this phenomenon is unrelated to his position as Admin of the Donbrothers.

2: "True Hero"

Jin Momoi shows A LOT of deference to Don Kaito. He's like. The ONLY person Jin is ever unfailingly polite to. Jin is surprised and shocked that Don Kaito would be working in a cafe. Jin KNEELS to this guy. I am rattling the bars of my cage. What do you KNOW, Old Man????

Anyway, "True Hero" and "Forever Hero" sure sound like the kind of titles one might give to the physical embodiment of the spirit and ideals of all Super Sentai.

3: Don Kaito Knows Santa Claus

Yeah him and Santa go way back.

So like, it seems like Don Kaito is NOT a Normal Human Age. And although Himitsu Sentai Goranger is only from the 70s, there are a lot of Sentai shows where the backstory has a Sentai, a similar team of warriors, or the source of the Sentai's power existing hundreds, thousands, or millions of years in the past.

In Conclusion:

I fucking love this concept, and as a bonus, it fits with some of the weirdest stuff about Don Kaito.

In my mind, Don Kaito got involved in the story of Donbrothers because of whatever is up with the Sentai Gears that is causing them to turn people into Hitotsuki and in order to get them all back, and he set up Cafe Donbura so the absolute disaster group that is the Donbrothers would have an actual Home Base, because god knows they would never have come together by themselves. And also to support Tarou when he was fighting alone while Jin fucked around throwing darts at the city to choose Donbrothers.

And he looks like Zenkaito because uhhhh he thinks Kaito is pretty cool 😊

The End

[readyforthegarden]

Eternal - Part Nine

A vampire!gvf multi-part dark romance AU (Josh Kiszka x reader, GVF x reader)

Warnings: 18+ Only Minors DNI. Mentions of blood, death, vampirism, mentions of stockholm syndrome

WC: 3261

The air was tense, you stood on one end of the library, Josh on the other. His arms were crossed and he wore stern look on his face as he regarded you. Your face was twisted in aggravation, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. You could feel your nails imprinting crescent moon shaped indents into the heel of your palm as you tried to keep from shouting. 

“Josh, I think we can be reasonable.” Jake muttered from his desk, where he had been working in peace until you barged into the room, to get some peace and quiet away from Josh, who you’d been arguing with. You’d found yourself craving the solace of the room, and had been spending time reading, Jake’s dull typing in the background. Occasionally he’d recommend a book, and ask how you were liking it or ask what part you were on, sparking a small conversation. You had hoped you wouldn’t be followed, but Josh wasn’t one to let go, and followed you into the spacious study.

“Reasonable?” Josh scoffed, unfolding his arms and gesturing to you. “Risking her life for a pair of jeans and some lip gloss is reasonable?”

“Josh, I need my stuff.” you groaned. “I’ve worn and washed the same pair of panties so many times the seams are coming apart.”

“You don’t need them, then.” he sniffed, making you roll your eyes. 

“Danny is making a run to the grocery store today, I want go with him.” you pleaded. “I need to go, I’m going stir-crazy cooped up in here.”

“I’m sorry, is my sprawling estate not big enough for you?” Josh feigned insult, making Jake chuckle under his breath as he typed another email. I didn’t realize forty acres was so suffocating.”

“Maybe it’s you,” Jake piped up again, glancing up from his laptop. His lips in a soft, lazy smirk as he gazed at his older brother. “Maybe she just can’t stand to be around you anymore, dear brother.” you dropped your face into your hands, his twin making your case worse. Josh stiffened at his brothers words, his eyes flickering to you and back to Jake.

“Do you feel you need time away from me?” Josh asked, turning and looking at the fireplace. Of course Jake had a roaring, crackling fire, though outside the temperature was near the mid-sixties. The days were hitting highs of near one hundred, and you longed for a beach and a boardwalk hot dog and soda, salt spray from your favorite vacation spot back home misting your face. 

“Josh, I’ve been ripped from my life and my home and thrown into this dark, cold manor.” you sighed, tears pricking your eyes as you fully realized the weight of the words coming out of your mouth.  “I just need a small break, back to the real world.” Josh grit his teeth behind his lips as he studied you, before flicking his eyes over to Jake. They conversed silently as you sniffled, turning away to hide your blotchy face.

“Fine,” Josh relented with a sigh. You turned around in disbelief, looking from the small, smarmy smile on Jake’s lips as he winked at you over to Josh, who was rubbing his temple. “I will speak with Daniel and see if he can take you to your apartment and get your things. Make sure he’s able to protect you in case anything happens.” you couldn’t help it, you felt joy bubbling up inside you and you jumped up and down excitedly.

“Yes!” you turned to Jake. “Thank you, thank you!

“Oh, it’s my pleasure, darlin’.” he chuckled, looking to an aggravated Josh. “But do feel free to leave your panties behind when you come back. That is one thing I agree with him about.” you bit the inside of your cheek as Jake looked you up and down for a moment. 

“Go get ready,” Josh sniffed. You bolted towards the door, pausing briefly to kiss his cheek, placing your lips on the dimple there. You nearly floated to your bedroom, sliding on your shoes and giving Jameson some scratches as he stretched out on your bed. Manor living certainly agreed with him, now that he was used to it. The plush rugs and linens, the spaces to hide. 

“I’m gonna bring back all your toys and catnip Jamesy.” you cooed as he chirped. You ran a brush through your hair and clipped it back with a claw clip before nearly galloping down the stairs, your purse in your hands.

“Ready?” Danny greeted you at the bottom of the stairs, keys in hands. 

“More than ready,” you grinned, nearly throwing yourself towards the garage door. Danny laughed at the pep in your step.

“You’d think I’m taking you to the carnival.” he said through his quiet laughter.

“I can’t help it,” you sighed as you swung the door open and waited for him. “I’m excited. I’m excited to get my things, to be outside of this estate…”

“I bet.” Danny unlocked the black escalade, and you climbed into the passenger seat, buckling in. As he pulled out of the spot and drove down the long garage, you looked over to him.

“If we do come across a carnival though, could we go?” you asked, batting your lashes at him.

“Why, you wanna ride the ferris wheel?”

“No, but mentioning a carnival made me realize how badly I’d like a corndog though.”

Entering your old apartment was strange. It was like visiting a friend’s house you hadn’t seen or talked to in a while. Everything was the same, and yet something was off, different. There was something unsettled, like you were now the thing that didn’t belong. You stepped into your living room, swiping a finger along the coffee table and collecting the thin, fine layer of dust that had settled across everything. It had only been a few weeks, but you looked around at the walls, photos of your friends back home, your family. A shadowbox full of movie ticket stubs surrounded by colorful art prints. Nothing super artistic, just things that caught your eye and made you happy at the time. You glanced around, wondering if you were still the girl that picked out those bright pictures and paintings.

“I can start in here, if you want to take some boxes to your bedroom.” Danny’s voice made you jump, startling you from your thoughts. “We won’t be able to fit everything into the car, but we can get a good chunk out.”

“It’s okay.” you smiled at him, taking the flattened cardboard box he offered. “I’m mainly just looking to grab my clothes and Jameson’s things.” Danny nodded, giving you a soft smile before starting to set up his own box, looking around at your living room. You moved down the hallway, going into your bedroom. Your bed was frozen in the state you and Josh had left it in. Sheets twisted around your comforter, pillows still indented where your heads laid. Old, dark blood spots from where he bit you still staining the pale mauve sheets. Putting the box together, you moved to your closet, taking out clothes and rolling them up, trying to maximize how much you could bring with you. 

As you packed, you became overwhelmed at how quickly your life had changed. Outfits meant for nights out on the town with friends and dates were now useless. The fabric that once held life to you as your favorite club dress, was limp in your hands, something that felt like it was due for a donation box instead of a moving box. You didn’t realize you had started to cry until you felt a warm tear hit the back of your hand. Backing up, your knees hit the edge of your bed and you dropped down on it, letting the tears fall freely. The only thing about you that felt free.

“Hey, are you okay?” you looked up to see Danny in the doorway of your room, looking concerned. “I was cleaning out the fridge, and I heard sniffling, thought it might be the dust.” you looked up at him and in seconds he was sitting next to you, pulling you into his chest. His large hands rubbed your back slowly, soothingly. 

“Let it out,” he whispered softly, chin resting on the top of your head. “Let it all out.” you sobbed into his chest, clutching the dress in your hands and wringing it between your bodies, feeling the rhinestones dig into your palms. Danny’s arms were comforting and strong, and when he tightened them around you, you felt your tears begin to cease.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled into his chest, putting a hand on his tear-stained tank top as you pulled back. “I just, it just came over me and-“

“You don’t have to apologize,” Danny brushed a stray hair off your tear-stained cheek, giving you a small smile. “I understand, don’t apologize.”

“I’m just looking around at everything and in just under a month, everything is different.” you sniffled, glancing around your bedroom. 

“It’s hard, adjusting to this life.” Danny nodded, his voice quiet. “A lot changes, and the way you were brought into it…It’s okay to miss it.”

“That’s the thing,” you looked up at him. “I don’t know if I miss it, or if I’m realizing that I never want to come back to a normal life.” Danny stared at you for a few moments, taking in your words as he let his hand fall from your face.

“Okay, we need to get you to the grocery store,” he smirked. “The stockholm syndrome is talking.” you snorted a laugh, nodding at how right he was. Danny helped you finish packing your clothes and jewelry, even packed up your bedding for you and tossing the blood stained ones before you followed him to the living room, tossing Jameson’s toys and the rest of his food in one box and a few baubles and trinkets in another, along with the personal photos and documents you scrounged up. You left with four boxes total, leaving the rest of your former life behind. Closing the door on the apartment felt like closing the door on your past, leaving it to continue collecting dust.

The trip to the grocery store on the other side of town was better. Danny followed you around as you grabbed things, tossing them into the cart.

“We cannot get all of these snacks,” Danny laughed as you tossed a box of cheez-its into the cart. 

“Why not?” you turned, quirking an eyebrow. “I know you’ve got the company card.” you gave him a look with a devious smile. 

“And Jake goes over the books with an eagle eye.” Danny countered. 

“I’m sure I can work something out with the boss, okay?” you winked at him, throwing a bag of chips into the cart as well. Danny gave you a tight smile, rolling forward and following you. The drive back was quieter, the rustling of the groceries and the boxes behind you reminding you where you were heading. 

“You’ve been a little quiet.” Danny turned to you once you were both in the kitchen, putting away the groceries. You shrugged, your emotions being all over the place today.

“I just…how long have you been here? When do you get used to it?” you asked, rummaging through a bag for the next thing to put away. Danny was quiet for a few moments, and you peeked over at him as he tossed a can of corn back and forth in his hands.

“I’m just as old as the Kiszka’s. Slightly younger, but around the same age.” Danny informed you, stopping you in your tracks, loaf of bread in hand. He chuckled and put the can of vegetables in the cupboard. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“Well, no.” you shook your head. “We were just outside, why didn’t you burn or smoke?” Danny bit his bottom lip nodding as you babbled. “Do you have some sort of amulet they don’t? A secret potion?”

“No, and no.” Danny leaned against the counter, next to you, picking up an orange and digging his thumbs into it, spraying a small mist of the citrus juice into the air as he peeled its skin. “Sam and I have always been friends. Brothers, even. We grew up together, all of us did, really. When Josh and Jake turned, Sam wanted to turn too, to be like his older brothers. And when he turned….he wanted me to turn with him.” you studied his face as he told the story, seeing in his eyes the sadness of the long life he’s lived.

“But you didn’t want to.” you murmured softly. Danny looked up from the fruit in his hands, nodded gently. 

“I refused. Many times. But Sam is impulsive and can be selfish. After a year or so of letting it be, he visited. Said he had great news. He had found a witch that could grant me eternal life, without me becoming a vampire. I said, ‘Sam, I don’t want that. I’m fine living as long as god lets me.’” Danny laughed, a bitter tone in his voice. “He flew off the handle at that. Started shouting that he couldn’t live without me, couldn’t watch his best friend age, wither and die and that it was too late any way, the curse was already done.” 

“Oh Danny,” you shook your head. He just continued.

“I didn’t believe it, at first. I thought he was just saying it because he was mad, and wanted to scare me into turning. And then a decade went by, and everyone else looked older, and yet I still looked twenty-four. I ran, after that.”

“Ran?” you hopped up onto the counter next to him, taking a slice of the orange he offered you, knowing if Jake saw your bottom on the nice marble he’d flay you alive, but at this moment you didn’t care.

“I couldn’t stand to be around Sam. Jake or Josh either. They let him do this to me.” Danny shook his head. “I took a lot of time to myself. Traveled around the world. I saw when electricity became available to the public. I saw the first movie ever made. I watched the Titanic leave port in Southhampton. But I realized that even with what he’d done to me, none of it mattered without him. Without my brother.” he popped an orange section into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he stared down at the tile beneath his feet. “I’ve loved my life since coming back to the family…” a silence hung between the two of you, and you understood the weight of it. He’d loved his life thus far, but he still wouldn’t have chosen it. You let the silence linger, taking another piece of orange from him as he offered, biting down softly on the flesh of the fruit. 

You took the moment to think about your own life. Would you get the chance to decide what your life would be? How long or short? Or would Josh be like his brother, rash and bold in making decisions for their counterpart and cause you to suffer a fate like Danny’s? The thought made your stomach churn, suddenly the sweet citrus turning acrid and sour on your tongue. The idea of youth eternal had always had a glimmer to it when you’d come across it in movies or books, but now after Danny’s story, the lights were faded, you could see the cobwebs and dust collecting on the idea.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “That you went through that, that your choice was taken from you.” Danny turned to you and gave you a soft smile, putting a warm, comforting hand on your knee.

“After living a few centuries, you get on by realizing the past is the past.” he supplied, giving your knee a soft squeeze. He ended the conversation there, moving to discard the orange rind and finish stocking the shelves. 

You flopped back onto your bed, freshly washed linens from home, finally a color other than maroon or black or gray. The dusty mauve color of your comforter feeling soft under your skin. You giggled a bit, at just how out of place it was amongst the dark walls and art. You had mostly unpacked your things, finally happy to have more clothes to wear around the house than the few Josh had packed your suitcase with that night.

“This is…different.” you turned your head, seeing Josh standing in the doorway. He was looking around the room at all the things you’d brought back with you, a slight look of distaste on his face.

“This entire house cannot just be filled with macabre and gloom.” you sassed back. “Not everyone here is a moody depressed vampire.”

“I see that.” Josh walked into your room, running a hand across your comforter before sitting down. “Do you feel more at home, now?” you turned your head back to the ceiling, shrugging. 

“It’s getting there.” you sighed. “Danny helped me a lot today…it was nice to get out for a while.” you felt Josh stiffen for a moment.

“I’m sorry, love,” Josh said quietly. “That this has happened. That you got caught up in this mess.” you turned back to him, watching him fidget and pick at your comforter. Apologizing was something he didn’t seem to do often, the words sounding clunky in the air. 

“Well, it serves me right, spending my nights in a seedy nightclub trying to seduce the mysterious man in the VIP room.” you joked half-heartedly. “Should’ve been at home in bed, knitting.”

“You knit?” Josh smirked. Shaking your head, you answered.

“I’m sure I could make a pretty decent tangle, if I tried it.” you smirked back, hearing him chuckle. 

“May I ask a question?” Josh’s hand had moved to the top of your head, slowly stroking your hair. 

“Go for it.”

“Do you need space from me?” he asked gently. You gazed up at his brown eyes, watching him study your reaction to his question. 

“Sometimes.” you answered, choosing the honest one. “Sometimes it’s because I feel so crowded by you and others because I’m so frustrated. You have these tender moments and then you treat me like I’m nothing more than a blood bag.” Josh pursed his lips as you explained your feelings to him. “It’s hard on top of everything else going on, I don’t know where I stand with you from one night to the next, and not only that, your brothers are relentless in their teasing. I’m yours, but you have yet to say that you’re mine.” 

“You and I have…a bond.”

“So you say.” you sat up, pulling yourself from his touch on your head. “I’d like some space right now, please.”

“But-“

“Please, Josh.” you didn’t look at him. “I’d like to be left alone.” after a few moments, you heard the shifting of bed, a few steps, and the click of your door shutting softly. You sank your face into your palms, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes. Your brain took you back to your conversation in the kitchen with Danny, and you groaned. Maybe eternal life, especially spent with someone as hot and cold as Josh was, and his brothers, was your destiny. But as the idea of centuries of bickering and sex and arguments flooded your brain, you wondered again would it be worth it.

Taglist:

@joshsindigostreak @lvnterninthenight @allieisacrybaby @xserenax-13 @sarakay-gvf @shutupdevvie @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvf2 @gretavanfleetposts @sacredthefran @josiee-gvf @highdefkiszka @ascendingtostardust @joshkiszkatoothgap @andeejoness @gardensgatedaisy @kkdarling @demonrat444 @teddiie @writingcold @dannyandthekiszkas @gretavanbestie @lightmylove-gvf @tearsofbri @paleshadow-ofadragon @gretavanslut @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @starshine-wagner @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama @mountain-in-springtime @cal-a-bungaa @capturethechaos @sunfl0wer-power @jankandjonch @gvfpal @allybjt @hippievanfleet @weightofbrokenbells @joshkiszkasbadussy @malany-gvf @ruby0antlers @samofthedawn @sacredjake @aim4thedoublee @diditallforyouu @gvfmarge @malany-gvf @highladyofasgard

[korpuskat]

For gunk-ice-tea’s RaMayttra prompts, Day 30: Balance. Pairing: Ramattra/Reader Rating: PG WC: 848 Warnings: None

"What is it?" You ask, half-motioning to his staff.

When he had first laid eyes on the orb, Ramattra could barely speak. A moment of awe- of fury. He had crossed continents, walked most of it alone, only occasionally the rare few of his kind of who had managed to integrate into human society quickly giving him assistance. He had come so far for answers. To be greeted by serene omnics offering him a mediation tool was a harsh slap. How could this be what he needed- what all omnics needed?

"It's a Shamabli meditation orb." He replies, then corrects himself: "It was."

It took weeks for him to relax among his own brethren. Took even longer for him to realize that his silent walks around the monastery at midnight were not a result of his extended wake cycle. On each circle of the stone-walled perimeter, Ramattra's orb refused to do more than flicker its lights. That was fine, because he was too busy scanning the freezing mountain for any heat signatures.

"Was?" You stare at the purple-striped thing. With a tip of his head, the orb floats out of the crook of his staff, settling between you. "Oh," you murmur, leaning in close to watch the tiny pyramids circle in waves.

It had begun floating on its own. He had dismissed his optics array while meditating- a feeble attempt to acquiesce to Mondatta's recommendation to disable or suspend his combat programs. He could not disentangle many aspects of his HUD from raw optic feed, so the only option was to turn it off entirely. That was fine; they were miles away from any human interference. And for once, Ramattra mediated without running checks. When he had re-engaged them, the orb had finally taken on its intended life, glowing a soft gold and spinning slowly.

That was the trick; Ramattra could not make it float, could not force it to bend to his will, to obey his commands. He could pry into its inner workings, but he knew all too well that would defeat the purpose. No, the orb was intended to run on the very background processes that were difficult for Ramattra to access himself, to be a visual, physical representation of his own state.

You catch one of the pyramids between your thumb and forefinger. The rest that circle the orb shift, fill in the space. It's tiny, pointy where it digs into the pad of your thumb, solid when you press on it. One side glows a soft purple, the same hue as the orb itself, as the line of light inside the staff's crook. With a lift of his fingers, the pyramid dissolves.

"What...?" You blink, stare down at your open, empty palm. With another movement, a dust cloud settles over your hand, then manifests, compresses into the same pyramid. "Nanites?"

Ramattra hums.

He doesn't really remember why he took the design. He knows how he got it. A new arrival had nearly entirely overloaded when her orb refused to sync with them anymore- had almost overloaded again when presented with a new one that they could successfully link with. Ramattra was the best engineer at the monastery, of course he had offered to investigate the faulty device. Any chance to crack one open and pick it apart from the inside. It was as much a self-satisfying investigation as a genuine service to his brethren.

He'd improved their designs within a week and quietly kept the blueprint tucked into his memory banks. Just in case.

He didn't know, exactly, what that had meant yet. Ramattra knew by then that despite his hours, years of self-reflection, of looking out into the universe, of pondering his very own existence and life, that there was something not right. Something here wasn't working. Every time he had to venture down into the town below the monastery for parts and cloth, he felt it in the world. In the very shadow of this omnic safe haven, he saw the fear and hatred in human eyes.

"The Shambali use them to heighten self-awareness, to regulate intense emotions. It's a symbol of internal, spiritual balance to control them." He says, and summons the orb closer to himself. "They can be difficult to control when affected by powerful discord."

"But you altered it?"

The orb settles into his palm. He turns his hand, inspecting the smooth, dark surface. "Yes," He says, "I call it a void accelerator. The orb acts as a magnet accelerator, propelling projectiles where I desire."

"Does it still help you?" You study down at the tiny pyramid still in your grasp. Ramattra's faceplate lifts, stares blankly at you. When you meet his gaze, you rephrase. "You said it regulated intense emotions, that you would meditate with it. Does it still work like that?"

The orb floats before him, pulls the missing piece from your hand. They dance around the orb in slow waves, spinning individually as they go. Ramattra hums, resettles himself. "Yes, in a way."

In the background, he scans the outside of the compound for movement.