angelxd-3303 · 2 years ago
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Finally- FINALLY saw the movie and oml I am also absolute mush! I need to see it again and again and again just to completely comprehend this rollercoaster of a movie <3 what a beautiful mess it was- now to indulge in even more fanart and fanfics >:)
Couldn't have said it better myself, friend!
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lysreadsbookssometimes · 3 months ago
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So I was thinking about the batmobile earlier and how they use it on patrol.
Wayne Manor and therefore the Batcave are pretty much on the edge of town and the bats use the batmobile/their other vehicles like bikes to get into the city.
Now when they are there, they move mostly by grapple or parcour. Which makes sense, you wouldn't really beat up a goon, get in the batmobile, drive three blocks and park it again. I assume they park it somewhere and then go on patrol.
A standard patrol is most likely circular, so they end up back at the batmobile. But what if they have to chase someone? Or something happens that draws them to the other side of the city? What if one of them gets injured and they need to be transported? The batmobile is parked somewhere, so what happens now?
I imagine the following possibilities:
1. The batmobile has self-driving capabilities. I can't really tell how good that would work in Gotham, and i don't know how that would work for the bikes.
2. There is a bat on batmobile-duty. They spend the patrol night chilling, watching tiktoks, reading a book etc. and just wait for a pickup.
3. There is a remote driving system, probably accessed by Oracle as well as the batcave. In the necessary moments Oracle grabs a controller and GTAs the Batmobile to the location.
4. There are Batmobiles hidden throughout Gotham and after such an incident happened, a few batkids need to go for a drive and pick up/drop off the various batmobiles at their spots.
I don't know which one is the most likely, and all of them have so much Batfam Chaos potential. Maybe all of them are true. Allow me to present some of these chaotic scenarios.
Red Robin, severly sleep deprived: *nearly hits a lamp post*
Batmobile: *avoids the post, speeds up* *steering wheel moves under his fingers*
RR: What?
Oracle, via comms: for the love of god just take a nap I'm taking you home
Nightwing, after a chase: great, now i need to walk like 5 kilometers to the car.
Red Hood: There is a batmobile in a garage like two streets down
NW: what?
RH: don't you have a map?
NW: a map of what?
RH: of the batmobiles
NW: what- no. No i do not. I will be having words with someone.
Batman, after patrol: There are still two bikes and a batmobile on the streets. Go pick them up.
Red Hood: alright, which one of you idiots is allowed to drive?
Nightwing: Damian put your hand down.
Gothamite: *crosses the street* *nearly gets run over by batmobile* *stares to see it driving off without a driver*
Phone: *beeps*
Text message: very sorry, still working on the self-driving. Have a coffee on me, heres a coupon code for batburger. -O
Red Hood: *peacefully reading a book, legs on the batmobile dashboard, a thermos of tea in the cupholder*
Oracle, via comms: Hood, Spoiler has been injured, i am sending you the adress for pickup.
Hood: How bad is it?
Oracle: Not life-threatening. She wanted to go on but Batman refused.
Hood: so she can wait a bit more.
Oracle: what?
Hood: They are about to have the big love confession and i am not waiting on that because B is overprotective.
Oracle: I just googled your book. Pick up Spoiler now or I will make you listen to Spoilers for the entire series.
Hood, starting the car: Jesus O no need for warcrimes
(I am fairly new in this fandom, if there is something in canon that i missed/got wrong please correct me)
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fablepaint · 2 months ago
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Hi Fable, I wanted to ask a question about how you deal with drawing things to scale? My assumption is that as you draw more and more, you get better at just going with your instincts, but I was wondering if you have certain strategies to make sure the things you're drawing aren't out of scale?
Another related question: How do you go about making sure animations are drawn to the same scale consistently? (I'm not 100% sure how to phrase this second question. Hopefully, it makes sense!)
If you mean drawing characters on model, practice. Tracing models and practicing drawing stuff from life to train my eye. Noticing the differences between what I drew and real life and telling myself to pay more attention to those aspects next round.
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If you mean scale like drawing a character beside a car and not having it look weird, then reference. Also logic. If the character can't physically sit in the vehicle without looking comic, then it's probably not the right size. If it doesn't look like they can use anything in the environment, then think more carefully about yourself in your environment. And note how the size of things is meant to accommodate the average person's height.
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I'm very short, so that part sucks! Everything is huge to me. But I usually draw people who are taller than me, so they don't have that issue. Lucky them :3
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If you mean drawing characters proportionally, then use body parts to reference their scale. Humans for example have skulls that are all roughly the same size no matter their height. There's some variation, but only at the extremes will you find a difference of say, an inch or two. Cuz our brains aren't that different in size. And the variation is usually just in jaw size more than the rest of the skull. Hormone differences also contribute to this, but again it's not really that extreme relative to say, dogs.
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So if your characters look weirdly out of proportion to each other, then make sure their head sizes aren't too out of whack. That's probably why one looks like a baby and the other looks like a CLAMP character.
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If they're getting wildly out of scale in every drawing, note how many heads tall the character is. IRL, humans are about 6 to 8 heads tall (or less, if you're me! And then all your characters look short cuz you kept referencing yourself in the mirror)
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Hope one of those answers helps!
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amee-racle-ofmyown · 8 months ago
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a whisper in the autumn wind
Heist!Mark x reader | Words: 1647 | Read on AO3
A chill racks your body as you and Mark make your way through the cool night. You mentally curse, wishing you were wearing more layers, though you know anything more wouldn't have fit under the tactical vest that sits snugly around your torso.
Your heist partner doesn't seem to notice you shiver, busy making sure the coast is clear before proceeding and gesturing for you to follow.
You do your best to keep pace with your friend's manoeuvres as he darts an odd pattern through the museum, triggering a bout of slight nausea that causes you to stop in your tracks.
‘Hey, keep up!’ Mark whisper-yells, turning around just in time to miss you steadying yourself after a wave of dizziness.
Somehow you make it the rest of the way without collapsing or being seen, but you're now all too aware of the fatigue in your muscles and the soreness in your throat. Meanwhile, your partner in crime carefully but swiftly wraps the stolen artefacts and slips them into his bag.
Your prize this time? A series of ancient tablets that you plan to sell to an illegal collector. You can't imagine what practical use someone would have for these, but at the end of the day, a job's a job and money is money.
It is only on your way out, that you feel the tell-tale itch in your nose that you have been dreading all evening.
As you scrunch up your face, Mark looks at you in confusion.
‘Buddy, you've been acting off all night, what's up with you? You good?’
You nod, desperately wanting to move on and for this to be over with.
The first couple of sneezes you manage to quell without too much fuss, but you can already feel a larger one threatening your nostrils.
While crouched behind a display, hiding from some guards, comes the point at which you can no longer hide that you're suppressing sneezes.
‘Alright, we are so close to being scot-free— hey what are you —? You're not sick are you? Really? Now?!’
Mark shakes his head back and forth with a string of frantically whispered "no"s as you fight your reflexes, but it's futile.
The sneeze that finally escapes you is resounding, and there is a beat of stunned silence and lack of movement from every party involved before you and Mark react first, bolting out the exit with the guards in pursuit.
It's a mad dash with a lot of ducking and diving, adrenaline probably the only thing keeping your body going, but by some miracle the two of you manage to lose them, eventually making it to where your getaway vehicle is parked some ways away so as to not be suspicious.
Piling into the passenger seat, exhaustion hits you all at once and you're thankful that Mark is the one driving. You pull off your gloves and hat and he does the same.
With no one following you, your partner drives cautiously in order to not draw any unwanted attention, careful to abide by traffic laws and always on the lookout for cops.
‘There's tissues and water in the glove box,’ he says after a few minutes, expression hard-lined and inscrutable, eyes focused on the road.
There's a thick tension in the car, uncharacteristically quiet save for the limited traffic outside and the rumble of the engine. You blow your nose, and it feels awkward in the silence, only broken on occasion by your sniffing. You take a sip of water, grateful for the coolness against your chapped lips and dry throat.
Eventually, you decide you don't want to endure the tension any longer, and you're too tired to let your little mishap turn into an argument; it was your fault, after all.
‘I'm sorry.’
Mark sighs. He glances at you, then back to the road.
‘It's okay. It's not your fault you're sick, it's just… Why didn't you tell me?’
‘Didn't want to ruin the heist.’ You laugh, but it's strained and weak, void of any real mirth or humour. ‘But I guess I kinda messed up on that anyway, huh?’
He lets out a small huff of laughter. ‘Yeah, no shit.’
You look down at your hands, folded in your lap.
‘Hey, it's not a big deal,’ he consoles. ‘We got what we came for and we didn't get caught. That's about as much as we can say for most of our heists.’
Your gaze stays downcast; he does make a good point, but it doesn't stop you from feeling a little guilty.
Mark must notice, because he reaches across to place a hand on your shoulder reassuringly, other hand still keeping the wheel steady.
You put your own hand over his, grateful for the comfort. You close your eyes and will away the growing dizziness and brain fog, the warmth from his now ungloved palm reassuring.
‘Look buddy, I need you to know I'm not mad or anything, just a bit upset that you didn't tell me in the first place… and annoyed at myself for not catching onto the fact sooner. I just thought… I thought you felt like you could be honest with me about this stuff.’
There's an undeniable hurt in his tone that makes you look up at him. He is still intently focused on the road ahead, despite there being rather few other people and cars out at this time of night, and you know it's out of choice — he takes his eyes off the streets in favour of looking your way for much longer than necessary when he wants to. Usually you'd chide him for doing so, but right now you can't help but wish he'd properly meet your eyes, just for a moment.
‘No – I can. I can tell you nearly everything, I – I'm sorry.’ You take a steadying breath, organising your thoughts. ‘You were just – really looking forward to this one, and there was no better day for it, everything lined up perfectly for us to go tonight. This stupid cold had to turn up and it started out as just a sore throat, no big deal, and well… I thought I could stick it out a little longer despite feeling like crap, but…’ You trail off, turning to look out the window as he approaches your shared base, returning his hand to the wheel.
He pulls up, setting the car to park, and finally turns his head to fully face you, placing a hand on your knee to get your attention.
He says your name, and it sounds like a term of endearment. For someone so bold and often brash, he can be surprisingly tender, a side of him that rarely anyone but you gets to see. ‘I rely on you, and you can rely on me… but part of that means we have to tell each other these things.’
‘Yeah, OK…’
‘Pinky promise?’
‘What are you, five?’
‘I'm serious,’ he says firmly, holding out his finger to emphasise the point.
Smiling, you hook your pinky around his own and shake on it, but not without rolling your eyes first.
‘Good,’ he says, pleased. ‘Now that that's settled, let's get inside, hm?’
While Mark retrieves the loot and stows it for the time being, you let yourself in, settling on the small couch in the living room. You take off your shoes and unzip your vest, easing it off your aching limbs.
The nausea and dizziness seems to have passed but you feel hot, yet a little shivery, and you're on the verge of nodding off when Mark appears in front of you, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. If it's even possible, you feel incrementally hotter with his touch as you return his concerned gaze through sleepy, half-lidded eyes.
‘I think you've got a fever, bud. C'mon, time for bed.’
You groan in protest, too drained to move, instead letting your head fall forward to plop against his chest, the soft texture of his plain black sweater a comforting feel against your fevered skin.
‘Oh boy, what am I gonna do with you…?’ he murmurs, bringing a hand up to pat your hair. He speaks softly, and with such affection that your heart would probably be doing somersaults if you weren't so tired and ill.
‘Alright, upsy-daisy.’ In one quick motion, he picks you up, carrying you bridal style to your room, and for once you don't object.
‘Hey, you better not make me sick too,’ he warns without an ounce of actual distaste, as you practically nuzzle your face into him.
He gently lays you in bed, tucking covers around you.
‘I'll be right back.’
You instantly miss his presence, tugging the blanket up a little around yourself.
He returns before long with a box of tissues, the bottle of water you'd been drinking and some painkillers, leaving them by your bedside. He places a wet face cloth beside you as well.
‘I know you're probably feeling cold but I don't want your temperature to get too high, so use this, and keep drinking water.’
You nod, about ready to drift to sleep.
‘Call me if you need anything, OK? I won't be far.’
‘Don't you want to sleep?’
‘I will in a little while, but you can still call me.’
‘Ok,’ you reply appreciatively. ‘Thanks for… looking after me.’
‘Someone's got to.’ He smiles at you gently, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.
After a pause, he gets up to leave, pulling the door closed but leaving a gap the width of his face.
‘Rest up, buddy.’
He makes a quick kissing sound in your direction before shutting the door fully, his footsteps receding down the hallway.
Your face feels very warm.
Must be the fever, you think, placing the towel on your forehead with a yawn, before swiftly falling asleep.
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silentglassbreak · 9 months ago
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Anonymous
Noah Sebastian x OFC
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K listen, I've haven't written any band FF in a LONG LONG LONG time, mkay? But Bad Omens...Noah Sebastian...mmmph. Let's see how far we get here. If you enjoy, let me know. If you want to be tagged in the next part, let me know that too. If you even so much as take the time to read MY SINCEREST GRATITUDES CAUSE WRITING THIS STUFF IS MY ESCAPE. xo
Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery.
+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.
Part 1 - Burning Out
Work had been long today. Longer than most days. The customers screaming at me had only taken it's toll so much, but having a God awful supervisor who was hell bent on making me late for my meeting, knowing full well how important my twice weekly meetings were, had completely wiped my energy and patience in one fell swoop. Needless to say, I was in no mood for excess attitude or traffic today. Which is why I found myself cursing at the jackass in the SUV in front of me, taking at least a year to make a right hand turn into the close to empty parking lot where the meeting was being held. It took the last of my self restraint to not lay on my horn and flip a specific finger at the driver.
Finally reaching the normal parking space in front of the unmarked office building, I silently breathed a sigh of relief. I had made it, only 2 minutes later than I should be. I began scrambling for my energy drink and my bag before shuffling out of my car and pressing the fob to hear the beep of the alarm set. My poor beat up Tahoe was doing her best, so I never took my frustrations out on her.
As I crossed the parking lot, I whipped my head around to gauge the spaces, noticing all of the regulars were already here, meaning I was the last to arrive. Sucks, given I'm the meeting organizer. Something caught my eye. A vehicle I didn't recognize, a black SUV. The same one who apparently can't make a right turn to save their life. Newbie? The rest of the offices were closed for the day, so I can't see why else they'd be here.
The building is always so quiet at 6PM, so the tapping of my chucks on the tile floors is louder than I'd like, drawing attention to my obvious lateness. (To who?). Didn't matter. I felt ashamed. These meetings are the most important facet of my life right now. I needed to be more punctual. Maybe next time, I'll tell Supervisor Sam to fuck right off like he deserves.
"Guys, I am so fucking sorry. Douchebag sup made me late...again." I announced as I backed into the door, opening it, and heading straight to the table to pull the Crumbl cookies out of my bag and setting them next to the water cooler and Keurig machine. I always brought sweets. It kept the cravings away.
"No worries Leena, we've just been chatting with the new guy." I turned around to see Abel, my veteran, who was gesturing to someone I didn't know.
I went around the circle of chairs, counting off my regular faces, some newer than others.
Abel, Rodger, Syd, Seth, Ali, Jackson, Mark, and Jillian.
However, sitting between Abel and Jillian was a newcomer, who currently had his back turned, slumped forward in his chair. Brown hair, longer than the hat he wore, black sweatshirt and dark blue jeans. Black sneakers. Hood up. Guarded, uncomfortable. What little of his hands I could see kneading together, they were completely tattooed. Even at Abel's mention of him, he didn't turn to face me.
"Oh! Well good! Great job guys. We can go ahead and get started." I grabbed my clipboard off the table, and rounded the group and took my normal spot next to Syd. By the way her hair was pulled back and her face looked dry and sullen, I could tell we had some things to talk about today.
"Well, my new folks don't typically like to talk first on their first day, but just know, that you being here is only the beginning. And we are all here to welcome you to our group. Right, guys?" I directed my statement toward the stranger, who I now can see more clearly. His face is pale, with the exception of the dark circles rested comfortably above his cheekbones. If I were to take a guess, those had been there a while.
The rest of my group nodded, with several of them giving a quick 'That's right.' and 'Welcome in.'
"I'm Leena, the group coordinator. I can answer any questions you may have?" The stranger just peered at me with dark eyes and shook his head. "Okay, we can jump right in, then."
I could feel Syd next to me bursting to talk, so I looked to her.
"Syd, do you want to get us started today?" She only nodded, wiping some stray tears forming on her cheeks.
Syd was such a beautiful girl. Only 21 years old, it was amazing that she found the strength to come to us so young, and work on turning her life around. Her neon blue hair was knotted on top of her head, and she was picking feverishly at her sleeve of her sweater. I could feel what was coming. I always could.
"I...I fell off the wagon." I only nodded, knowing. She had missed three meetings, and unless someone forewarned me about vacations or work obligations, it almost always meant they were on a bender of some kind.
"Okay," As her tears began pouring, I reached over and ran a hand up her arm. There was a reason I sat Syd right next to me. She had been one of my newest, and biggest challenges. Overcoming the demons was an every day, every moment, every second battle that she was still very much fighting. "It's alright honey. We're all here to support you. No one is judging."
She went on to explain she had began with a mimosa at brunch with her friends, who didn't know she was in recovery. She didn't want them to know, so she tried to just sip. It didn't work. It never does. The one drink lead to a blackout weekend and three days in jail for public intoxication. She lost the job she had just gotten at the local DMV. Syd was going through it. She would need Seth, her sponsor, more than usual right now. He was on the other side of her, clutching her hand as she cried.
Once Syd had finished her confession, and emotionally put her 30-day coin back in the jar, we moved on to Seth.
One by one, through the circle, we heard everyone's stories of recent achievements and sorrows. Challenges and victories. Their ongoing battles. Once Jillian finished telling us about her recent trip to Vegas with her friends, where she managed not to have a single drink. We applauded her, because we all knew how much restraint that took.
I would steal occasional glances at our guest, whose eyes would also glance back at me once in a while, but mostly followed the speakers, never moving in his chair, stoic as cement. This isn't uncommon for people coming here for the first time. It's not easy to do, and it's wildly uncomfortable at first.
However, the circle was now all looking at him, and a look of almost panic flashed across his face.
"Is it on me?" His voice was deeper than I expected, with a clear rasp to it that told me all I needed to know about his history. He belonged here, and we were glad to have him.
I nodded. "How much you tell us is entirely up to you, but all I ask is you at least tell us your name, and why you're here."
He bit his bottom lip, eyes cast at me from across the room, looking up through long, dark eyelashes. "I have to say it out loud?"
"That's one of the first steps." I kept a soft smile on my face. Being warm, and understanding was my entire job here.
Abel's elbow nudged the stranger, who glanced at him, encouraging him. "No worries man, we've all been here."
A hard sigh left his throat, ending with a sharp cough.
"My name is Noah. And I'm an alcoholic."
****
Once the meeting had ended, I was stacking chairs back against the wall, prepping the room for the next meeting, NA. They had their own setup, and would be in here in about 30 minutes. Most everyone had left, with the exception of Abel, Syd, and Noah. Our newest AA member had been pretty tight-lipped about himself, only admitted to being 27 years old, and in the entertainment industry. He didn't elaborate further. That was just fine. If he kept coming, we would encourage him further, but AA was all about getting you through it at your pace. As long as you didn't drink, I was happy.
I was putting away the leftover cookies, planning to take the last couple with me to work tomorrow for a snack. I happened to catch a glimpse of someone leaving the restroom, and I noticed it was Noah. Everyone else had left only a couple minutes ago.
"Oh, hey!" I waved at him to come over. He paced his tall frame over to me, towering over me easily. He had at least a foot of height on me, which was hilarious, given I was a year older and 3 years sober myself.
"Hey, thanks for having me today. I didn't know if you could just come to these things." I slung my bag over my shoulder, smiling at him.
"C'mon, I wanted to chat with you before you left." We made our way out of the building as Angie, the NA organizer walked in past us, smiling at us both.
We reached the parking lot, my green Tahoe and the same black SUV being some of the only vehicles left. It dawned on me that he drove the SUV. Well, he may need a driving lesson, but he seemed nice enough.
I turned to face him before heading for my car. "Have you talked to anyone about being a sponsor? The only requirements I have is that they have been sober at least 6 months. Almost everyone in our group is, with the exception of Syd and Jackson." I could see him chewing his lip, his fingers fiddling with his keys.
"No, I...I didn't think about it." His eyes were looking everywhere but at me.
"Noah?" I asked, trying to get his attention. "Do you know what a sponsor is?"
This drew a short, burst of a chuckle out of him, his lips curling in a sheepish grin while he shook his head. I saw his frame relax for just a second, his arm reaching to scratch the back of his neck.
"I don't." I nodded, chuckling myself.
"No worries! I didn't when I started either." I waved him over to the bench perched just outside the building. He followed me and we sat. "A sponsor is someone to keep you straight. Someone who will keep your head on when you feel like you might fall off." He was listening, eyes fixed on me. "This is the person you call when you want a drink. They'll talk you down, distract you. Support you." He nodded, understanding crossing his features.
"Do they have to be a member of the group?"
"No, not necessarily, but they do need to be sober. A sponsor is no good if they are drinking and setting bad examples."
"Makes sense. I'll think on it." I stood up then, stretching up on my toes to flex my legs that had been sitting most the day. He stayed sat, now looking up at me.
"I do need you to have a sponsor by the next meeting on Thursday, though. Have to have one by your second session. And if you don't have one by then, we can get someone in the group to sponsor you, no problem."
He raised a brow at me, a smirk on his lips. "Didn't you say you only had one rule?" This threw me off. Smartass? It was innocent, I could tell, but a joker. Hadn't had one of those in a while.
I laughed it off. "Well, I only do for your first day. There are only a few rules to AA, but they're pretty much common sense."
He stood then, towering me once again. "Can you tell me anyway? I don't want to fuck this up." We then began walking back towards the cars. When I walked toward mine, he followed. It was dark already, so I didn't mind. This was LA, after all.
"Well, the first is obvious, no drinking." I popped my driver door open and flung my bag in toward the passenger's side. He nodded at me and leaned against the rear door of my truck.
"Second, no coming in drunk. As obvious as that may seem, you would not believe how many people I've kicked out of the meeting for showing up mid-bender." He raised his eyebrows. "As much as I'd like to keep and eye on them, it's not good for the other members."
"No, for sure." His tone was even.
"And lastly," I then looked straight at him, so he knew how serious I was. "don't ever lie to me." I could see him straighten just a little, feeling the seriousness of what I was saying. "If you fell off, admit it. I'm not judging. I did, so many times. But if you lie, you're out." I then took a step closer, if only to make my point, "Because I always find out."
He kicked off from my truck, his body less than six inches from mine. He looked down at me, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
"Yes ma'am." I felt a twinge up the back of my spine. It was a little warm all of a sudden, and my mouth was dry. I stepped back, and was able to regain my brain.
I smiled brightly at him and swung myself up into my truck. Before I slid my legs in, I looked at him, now almost at eye-level.
"Great! I'll see you Thursday, then!"
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the-wanderer-2022 · 2 years ago
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Feather Serpent Goddess Chapter 3 (Dark Namor x Reader)
(Please note you can find the Masterlist for this series at the top of my blog)
Warnings: Yandere themes, damn good writing 🤫
Tag list: @omgsuperstarg @aslutforscarletwitch99 @multifandom-boss-bitch @tzurue @gardenof-venus @zheezs14 @bookfrog242 @honestlyka @weaponb33 @angel-bi666 @telepathic-queer
There are two blogs that Tumblr couldn't find to add to the taglist @alphmoon666 and @ohantonia. So I'll message you guys, the link isn't working. If you want me to stop at any point, just holla and I will.
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"Kukulcan. What is it?"
"Nothing my child."
"Then with your permission, I will leave for my mission," Namora says.
"Go."
Where can she be? It is the only thought consuming Namor as he leaves the throne room, descending down the winding steps to the room he hides from the world.
Going inside, glow worms illuminate the shrine. He has built quite the collection now. Pieces of (Y/N). Pieces that in no way make up the full picture. Strands of her (H/C) hair, the lily she dropped at her mother's funeral sits preserved in wax, the lyrics of that song she keeps singing. Nothing big enough for her to miss it. But sometimes when he cannot sleep, he comes down here, to these poorly drawn images he has made of her. He's gotten better with the drawing. He cannot even stomach the thought of someone else picturing what she looks like, so he has never asked someone else to draw her for him.
There's another song she sings a lot. He doesn't know what it's called. But it goes something like
"It's been a long day without you my friend, and I'll tell you all about it when I see you again . . ." That's the only line he knows. But it captures perfectly how empty it feels without (Y/N).
Deep down, he knows his people should be his obsession. Their safety and well-being his every thought. Then why does can he not shift her face from his mind? Why does he steal as many hours of sleep as he can, just for the chance to encounter this woman?
-
"What happened to your mama?"
"Can't you just go inside my head and read my memories?" (Y/N) snaps as Chimal leaps a wall ten feet at a time. She seems to know where she is going. What she is doing. It's just a damn shame she never shuts up.
"That's not how this works," Chimal huffs as she lands with a grunt and takes off running. "And you might be a little bit more grateful you know? It's not easy moving undetected through Wakanda. If you keep me entertained, I won't have to talk so much, and we'll be more likely to move without being heard."
"Can't you just keep quiet?" (Y/N) asks.
A big exhalation. "I don't like silence. It reminds me too much of home." She seems to consider something before the tension falls from her eyes and she continues with a shaky smile. "But enough of that. What happened to your mama? I know all about Daddyo. But you never talk about her."
"Chimal, can I be honest? Woman to woman so to speak? I appreciate you doing all of this, but let's just say this isn't the first time I've had contact with a, and don't take this the wrong way, your kind. I don't trust you."
"Not all spirits are like that . . ."
"I have yet to see evidence to the contrary."
"I'm helping you!"
"You took control of my body without so much as a by your leave!"
"There wasn't time . . ."
"There never is. You're just like him."
It's forbidden to ask about previous possessions. Each spirit has their own journey, their own mission, and they should not be concerned with paths other than their own. It's bad professionalism. Nevertheless, Chimal cannot help but ask.
"What was his name?" There's one rule out the window.
"He didn't leave a calling card, he left a mark. I barely got out of it with my head still intact. My left arm."
Chimal lifts her arm. And it feels, if one can survive such a feeling, like being ran over by one of those human vehicles called a truck. "You got possessed by Khios?!"
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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 11 months ago
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Hello! I have come asking for you to info-dump about the the modern human au. I full of brain rot of them (especially after the last thing you posted about them, damn) Maybe you can tell us a bit more Sally!!
lucky for you, i've been full of that good ol brainrot As Well! thoughts! feelings! ideas! i got em!
so since we're already on the subject of the Crash Arc, allow me to expand on it for a moment before i get to Sally Thinkings! if you've read the snippet, you may have noticed the extent of Wally's injuries was not listed yet. well! he got messed up with a capital F! since it's fiction and i'm god in this scenario, i'm veering slightly away from realistic damage, immediate & lasting. bc lets be real. if i stuck to "this is as realistic as i can make it", then Wally would be aaaaaabsolutely fucked. it was a bad crash in a very unsafe vehicle at high speeds. like - this is what happened. a drunk driver hit Home going 70 down the freeway. swerve, fishtail, tumble down a (small, shallow, really its more like a glorified ditch) ravine with trees and rocks and shit on it. absolute miracle that Wally didn't die in the crash, let alone during the solid half hour (slightly longer) he was trapped in Home before someone noticed the crash site and called emergency personnel. Wally "hanging up" on Barnaby was actually the impact jarring him so he slipped and hit the end call button. but yeah without going into technicalities and detail, Wally has some lasting damage in his dominant hand. It takes extensive physical therapy for him to be able to paint/draw again at the same level he had been at. the hematoma hadn't done a lot of brain damage that wouldn't resolve itself with time. in my mind, when Wally wakes up in the hospital, for a few days he's very confused and his memory is shot. he'll wake up, interact, then go to sleep, but when he wakes up again its like waking up for the first time again. he just can't retain memories for a bit. he's got some severe brain fog. his mood is also kinda fucked with - he's uncharacteristically irritable with low patience, etc. these are all things that clear up with time, but in my mind Wally has chronic migraines going forward. bad ones! and there are days where it's harder fr him to concentrate. and yk. a teeny bit of chronic pain where his shin bone was pinned back together and where his hand was essentially crushed. but other than that he's fine going forward! good days and bad days!
but enough about that! You Want To Hear About Sally!
i imagine that she becomes quite successful in the theater industry. i'm not too familiar with it myself, so i'm gonna be uh. Vague about it? but she starts her own theater troupe - it's a bit of a commute from home base to the town she works in, where the theater is located in, but she makes it work! of the group, she's probably away more than any of them. working on shows, traveling to work on other ones - i like to think she's been on Broadway! she probably has had opportunities to do tv/movie acting, but idk... i feel like Sally would be like "nah. live shows or nothing". maybe at some point she takes up voice acting gigs, as long as she can do them from home. she probably has her own little room-turned-VA-studio thing. idk how that works either! it seems right! but yes Howdy's store's automated messages and advertisements are in Sally's voice. she's probably picked up a temporarily modeling gig here and there.
so Sally is very very busy. Poppy is supportive. everyone is, and they all love to help out when they can - and reel Sally in when the "stardom" starts to get to her head. they do their best to acclimate to occasionally getting jumpscared by her voice in a grocery store or in. idk. fashion shoots. victoria's secret billboards. that last one was a joke! maybe. i think she would.
i also like to imagine Sally like... getting some sort of award and then spending a solid five minutes naming her friends, thanking them with specificity, and then plugging their own stuff. they probably have a rotation for who accompanies her as her plus one for events and parties she may or may not be invited to. she's not like... a Big celebrity but! she's Known and Liked! she has Connections! i like to imagine her and Wally looking dapper as fuck at a Venue...
so the friend group typically stays together, with Sally going off to do her Things the most. she makes sure to schedule time to be with her friends and girlfriend/wife/Poppy between work and gigs and etc. she somehow finds a balance with Ease. or apparent ease... someone get this girl a vacation...
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saltsicklover · 1 year ago
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Part Five
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You guys, thank you so much for all the love on this series! I see your comments and tags, and I just want you to know that I do! Thank you for interacting. I want to reply but I don't know how to do so without using my personal blog. Anyway, just know that I see you and I appreciate you! Happy Reading!
Title: Once an Asshole, Always an Asshole
Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3100+
Rating: R
Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, Pining Hangman, Crying, Nat throwing herself from a moving vehicle, Sunny finding out about The Bet.
Second Chance Romance!
Disclaimer: I do not own Bob Floyd, or anything related to Top Gun Maverick within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.
I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.
You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.
---
Hangman watches Sunny for a few moments, taking in the soft features of her face as she watches the point where the sunset meets the waves. He notices the numerous earrings that decorate the expanse of her ear, the jewelry glittering in the sunset. He traces the jewels with his eyes, fighting the urge to move the piece of hair that has fallen in front of her ear. 
Hangman sighs, running a hand down his face, attempting to regain some composure. He continues to remind himself that this is not a date, Sunny is not here for him. Jake wonders if Phoenix would ever forgive him for making a move- the thought of thinking before acting on impulse almost new to Jake. 
He gives her another moment to sit before breaking the silence- he tells himself it's for her, but really, he wants to sit there and look at her for just a moment longer. Jake doesn't know what it is, but he can't seem to take his eyes off of her, something resonating from her aura that just draws him in without her even trying. 
He almost reaches over the bench seat to take her hand in his, just to feel the heat of her soft palm in his again, but he shoves the desire down, letting it sit deep in his stomach almost aching. So, he speaks, to keep himself from doing something stupid- something he can't take back. 
"You ready to get the party started?" He smirks, fingers unbuckling his seatbelt. She follows suit, the seatbelt unclicking before retracting behind her right shoulder. Hangman slides out of his side of the truck before winding around the front and over to her door. He pulls it open and offers a hand to Sunny. She rolls her eyes, sliding out, then hitting his out turned hand on the back with her own, smacking it away. 
"I was trying to be polite," Jake rolls his eyes, nothing but playful jest behind them, though he aches to feel her skin against his again, "My Mama would smack me if I was anything but polite to a lady while she gets out of a vehicle,"
"Looks like she raised you right," Sunny moves around him and down the bed of the truck. She grabs the side of the bed before planting one foot on the tire, pulling herself up into the bed with one swift motion. Hangman watches her with delight, taking note of the mismatched piercings that cover her other ear. "Too bad I was raised by my Uncle Remy, who taught me to never trust a man, "'cuz he's never met a man who wasn't playin' games","
"I never said that I wasn't playin'," Hangman watches as she roots around in her duffel. He takes in the way the tip of her tongue juts out from between her teeth, her eyes drifting to the side in concentration while she searches through the bag by touch alone. When she pulls her hand out, she grasps a magic marker and a handful of red "Hello My Name Is" stickers. 
Jake quirks a brow, watching as she balances a nametag on her knee, marker cap held between her front teeth as she scribbles something across the tag. She quickly peels the tag from its backing before slapping it to her chest, smack on her left breast, her name and a small doodle of the sun adorn it. She moves to the next tag, the beginning of an 'H' being written before Jake speaks again. 
"You do realize we wear our names on our uniforms, right?" Sunny's eyes drop Jake's chest, his last name printed in crisp white letters on the black plastic tag. 
"Seresin, huh?" Her words are muffled a bit by the marker cap that's still placed between her teeth. Her hands move, eyes still locked on him. He beams with pride, smirk a little larger than before. 
"Yes, Ma'am, that's me," Sunny caps the marker as she pushes herself to stand again, "That's why it's on my chest," He lets his finger trace the underside of the perfectly placed nameplate.
Sunny takes the chance to throw herself over the side of the pickup, landing loudly next to Hangman. He jumps back a bit at the suddenness of her movement and how she moved with such ease, eyes darting around her form, checking for any sign of distress. As quick as his eyes snap to her, a sticky nametag is pressed crookedly over the already pristine one on his chest. It reads "Hanged Man" in sloppy letters, a little doodle of a stick figure in the space next to it, the same kind of stick figure children use for the game Hangman. It's clever, really, but he glares down at it anyway. 
"That's more correct, I think," She pats him again on the chest, right in the middle of his sturdy frame, a proud look on her face. There is a playfulness behind her eyes and it drives Hangman a bit more crazy. He hopes that she didn't feel the quickening of his heart under her palm. 
She pulls her hand back as quickly as it was pressed against his chest. He almost reached out to grasp her wrist, to bring her hand back up to rest over his heart. Thankfully, he catches himself mid movement, instead, bringing his hand up to run through his hair. 
Jake knows this woman will be the death of him, from the way she throws smirks around, to the red of her dress and down to the worn in cowboy boots. He's smitten, more than enough to put his best game forward for a chance at taking her home. He almost forgot she was there for Phoenix, almost, until a loud shriek pulls him out of his Sunny induced daydream. 
He turns to see Phoenix practically throwing herself out of Rooster's Bronco, the vehicle still in the process of slowing down as she throws herself out of it. The nametags and marker are thrust into his hands as Sunny moves to round the bed of the truck. 
The women move quickly, embracing each other with too much force. They would've ended up on the ground if Sunny hadn't braced herself for the impact of Natasha's body against her own. There is a mess of laughter and tears, the women pulling back to look each other in the face before pulling each other close again. 
Hangman watches as tears spill down Natasha's face, her eyes scrunched together. This is the first time he has seen Natasha cry. It humanizes her. Her hard exterior breaking apart, glimpses of her true self now visible through the cracks. 
The women rock back and fourth, spinning themselves around in a circle. Natasha is whispering to Sunny- Jake is too far away to make out the words. Then, his eyes catch Sunny's face, slick with tears but the look on her face is nothing but pure contentment. This is the first time Jake has ever seen a woman cry without pain marking the face. This repeats for a couple minutes, Hangman standing there next to the truck, watching women he barely knows, cling to each other like they might float away if they let go. Rooster's clapping Hangman on the back to signal his presence, pulling the Aviator from his thoughts. 
"Let's go get some beers, give them a minute," Rooster speaks, motioning towards the door. Hangman nods an agreement and they move towards the front door, leaving the women to embrace in the parking lot. 
"Oh my God, let me look at you," Phoenix cries, pushing Sunny back to peer into her eyes. They are full of tears, threatening to overflow as Phoenix's own dart around her face with her watery gaze before she is quickly pulling Sunny right back into her chest whispering 'oh, come here'.  
"Nash, you are gonna kill me if you squeeze me any tighter!" Sunny almost has to claw Natasha further away from her body, but when they finally separate, Sunny brings her hands up to wipe tears from her best friend's cheeks. 
Sunny lets her eyes dart around her friend's features, taking in the darkness of her eyes first. They are richer than the soil, with so much life within them, glittering gold in the sun. She brings a hand up to run her fingers over the slicked back hair on the side of Nat's head, right over her ear. Sunny traces the hair a few times, taking in the sharp corners of her brows, letting her eyes travel down to the sharpness of her jaw. 
"You're beautiful, Nash, you know that, right?" Sunny compliments, giving her friend's shoulders a squeeze. 
"Oh shut it," Nat laughs a bit, her cheeks tinted with a slight blush, "You are too," 
"Of course I am, what do you expect?" The women both stifle laughs, the joy continuing to bubble out of the pair. 
"Come on, lets get some drinks and I'll introduce you to Rooster," Natasha grabs Sunny's hand firmly, lacing their fingers together and pulling her towards the door, "How was the ride down with Hangman? Did he behave himself?" 
The women push into the bar and Sunny barely gets a chance to glace around before she is being pulled to the back of the large room, near an expansive set of windows with a perfect view of the sunset. Sunny lets her eyes catch the sunset for a brief second before turning back to Natasha. 
"He was fine, kept his hands to himself. I can't say the same thing about his eyes, but a fine man like him can look at me anytime," Sunny laughs as Natasha's face crinkles up in disgust. 
There is no awkwardness between the women. They behave like they have known each other for a lifetime, and in a way, they have known each other for some of the most important years of their lives. Sunny was there for every deployment and rank change and every course Natasha passed. Nat was there for Sunny when her first book got published, and then again for the next two. She has them on her book shelf, displayed proudly. 
"Hangman, seriously?" She fake gags, grimacing. 
"What? I said look, not touch," She nudges her friend's shoulder with her own, earning a half laugh from the other. "He's not my type, but it's nice to be noticed by a conventionally attractive man, okay! Even if he does look like some Mattel reject for the Ken Doll," 
"Who looks like a rejected Ken doll?" A voice breaks through the laughter. Sunny looks away from Natasha to see a sandy haired man, clad with a porn 'stache, looking too hot for his own good. He is looking up from the tabletop, magic marker in hand. 
Sunny leans over to whisper in Natasha's ear, "Oh, my God, what is with all the hotties?" The comment makes Natasha turn a light shade of pink as she stifles a laugh behind her hand. 
"Hanged Man does," Sunny replies simply, turning her attention back to the new man, earning a hearty snort from him in return. 
"Oh, Darlin', you wound me," Hangman places a hand over his heart, feigning pain with a hearty grimace. All he earns is three distinct eye rolls from the group as he turns to walk towards the bar. 
"I'm Bradley," The new man interrupts, holding a hand out towards Sunny, a wide smile on his face. 
"Sunny," She shakes his hand, making sure to squeeze it tight. 'Folks remember good handshakes', the words play in her head.
"I gathered as much," Bradley sends a look to Nat, a small smirk on his lips, "This one hasn't stopped talking about you since she found out you were making your way to Fighter Town," 
"That's okay," Sunny smiles brightly, "I talk about her all the time too, I'm sure the guys at work are tired of hearing about her." 
Natasha chuckles a bit, pulling Sunny in for another hug. Bradley puts his attention back to the tabletop where he is making his own nametag. The sight makes Sunny's smile a thousand watts brighter.
"I can't decide if I should draw a mustache or a dick on this," He speaks, gesturing down to the nametag, his cheeks sucked in in concentration. Sunny peeks over his shoulder, the nametag already reading "Rooster" in bold strokes. Nat looks too. 
"Dick, definitely," The ladies respond at the same time. 
"Oh my God, you better not do that all night," Hangman speaks, stealing the attention away from Rooster's new artistic endeavor. He holds four beers, two in glasses and two in cans, as well as a glass with dark liquid fizzing away inside. 
"I can't make any promises," Natasha informs, taking the glass and a beer from Hangman. She hands Sunny the glass, her hands working before her brain, almost like they have done this exact thing a thousand times before. Probably because she is used to handing the glass to Bob. 
"I didn't know if you drank, so I got you a beer, and a Coke," Hangman gestures to the glass, "It's a Pepsi, sorry, its San Diego, y'know?"
"Didn't you just say it was a Coke?" Sunny quirks an eyebrow, bringing the beverage up to her nose to give it a sniff. Definitely not a coke. 
"Ignore, him," Bradley interjects, "He's from Texas so all Soda is a Coke to him, then they specify. It's stupid," 
"Well, I don't drink, so the thought was very sweet, thank you Jake," Sunny nods, raising the glass to him, "However, the 'Coke' first thing is dumb," and then she turns to Bradley, "And counterpoint, so is 'soda', where I'm from, we call it a 'pop'!" 
"A pop?" The three Aviators speak in unison, sharing slightly bewildered looks with one another. 
"The only other lunatic that calls a soda a 'pop' is Bob," Rooster reminds the group, his explanation complete with air quotes. 
"Yeah!" Sunny is equally as bewildered at the thought, "Because the can makes a pop sound when you open it?" She explains it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. The Aviators "ahh" in unison, but at very different pitches, Sunny isn't sure anyone believes her explanation. "I'm just glad it's a Pepsi, honestly," 
Hangman looks offended, his mouth slack, eyebrows down. 
"Texas," Rooster and Phoenix chime, each shaking their head side to side, much like one would while disciplining a child. 
"So, Nash," Sunny slings her arm over her best friends shoulders, bringing the cup to her own lips with the other hand, "Where is this famous Bob I am supposed to meet?" 
"Oh! He offered to stay back and finish the maintenance on the jet so I could get out here and meet you! He should be here in an hour or so," 
"He better be, he's usually the D.D.," Rooster sends a wink Hangman's way before he is reprimanded by Natasha. 
"Nope, don't even think about it, boys! He is our ride, remember? That was the deal, breakfast burritos in exchange for getting him off of D.D. duty this week," 
The boys whine about it, mentioning that the burritos better be worth it, and that's when Nat leans into Sunny's side, whispering that they just might have to make the boys breakfast burritos now. Sunny agrees with a roll of her eyes, pleased to be getting roped into the shenanigans right off the bat. 
"Or maybe, you guys can use your portion of the bet winnings to buy some burritos for yourselves," Nat speaks, the idea popping into her mind. "I really don't want to cook for your asses more than I already do," 
"Bet?" Sunny inquires. 
"Oh right, the bet, I almost forgot," Bradley speaks, a wide grin falling over his lips.
"I hadn't forgotten," Jake interjects, "I knew from the moment I saw her that we'd won,"
Sunny is even more confused now, looking at Natasha for some sort of clue. 
"You didn't tell her?" Jake asks, a bit surprised. Phoenix just shakes her head, a blush coming to life on her cheeks and over the tips of her ears. She hasn't blushed this much in a long, long time, but the warmth that spreads over her features also warms her heart a bit. 
"What did you do?" Sunny asks, grabbing her friends shoulder. The gesture is playful, but Sunny attempts to make a serious face. It cracks when the corner of her lip quirks up just a bit, alluding to the smile she is holding back. 
"We- the squad- sort of bet on if youwouldbehotornot" The last few words come out all together, mumbled under Nat's breath. She tried her best to cover them up, but Sunny wears a stern expression that reads 'try again'.
"We took bets on if you would be hot or not, since we didn't know what you looked like," Natasha explains a bit sheepishly, feeling a bit ashamed about it now. "In my defense, it was Rooster's idea."
"And you won?" Sunny asks. The group nods. "Great, then what's my cut?" 
"Your cut?" Jake's a bit taken aback, his eyebrows jumping to his hairline. A wide smile has broken his usual smirk, the joy he is feeling no longer tucked behind a well rehearsed exterior. 
"Yeah, my cut. You bet on me, and you won, because I am hot as fuck, and I think I deserve my share because I delivered," Sunny's explanation is nonchalant as she sips on her Pepsi. The Daggers break out into fits of laughter, their eyes squeezing shut, each wearing a bright smile. 
Sunny worries for a second as the Daggers stare at her, smiling. She worries she might have said the wrong thing, gone too far with a group who doesn't know her humor. 
"I knew I liked you for a reason," Natasha wraps her arm around Sunny, bringing her close yet again. The words comfort Sunny instantly. 
"You like me for a lot of reasons," Her elbow meets the space between Nat's ribs, "Including the fact that I have continued to put up with your shenanigans for the last ten years. Remember when you were twenty-six and you met that couple outside the-" 
Hangman and Rooster's eyes snap up to meet Sunny's, Natasha's hands coming up to conseal the words coming out of her friend's mouth. She is shaking her head violently, begging Sunny to quit talking, her eyes wide. Sunny tries to lean away from the hands on her face, a couple of words coming out unmuffled. 'Chevy' 'Cherry Flavored' and 'Inches' are the only words the boys could clearly make out, leaving them more confused than they began as Natasha's whole body flushed a deep raspberry, no doubt reliving the memory in her head. 
Sunny sat there laughing, her hands around her friend's wrists, keeping her upright as she began to cackle, her whole body shaking with laughter. Everything feels right between the four, the laughter ringing out through the air. 
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yanderes-galore · 2 years ago
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May I request Transformers animated swindle with a human?
Oh sure! Swindle wasn't that hard of a character to grasp for me, you don't even have to know everything about the show to understand him. I hope you enjoy this ^^ Anon wanted it a romantic concept.
Here's a video of all his moments in TF:A
Yandere! TF:A! Swindle with Human! Darling
Pairing: Romantic
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Murder, Obsession, Slight sadism, Forced affection, Threats, Jealousy implied, Violence, Possessive behavior, Forced relationship, Transformer/Human.
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Swindle is a Decepticon arms dealer in the series.
However, he's always going to go with the highest bidder.
He works with humans, Autobots, Decepticons, really anyone who can make a good deal.
He also doesn't mind betraying others for his own greed.
He'd lie to humans to get them to hand something over for his own benefit.
He's also... really armed.
Swindle knows just want to give others and loves to make deals.
The nice thing about Swindle is he's one of the smaller Decepticons.
Which makes affection towards you easier.
Don't get me wrong, Swindle still towers over you, but not compared to someone like Megatron.
Swindle would be rather deceptive towards a darling to coerce you into listening to him.
He seems to be the type to draw you in with his charisma.
Swindle sees his darling as a partner.
In both business and other ways.
Swindle would be rather threatening and manipulative towards you.
He'd also try to make a deal with you the first time you meet.
Your 'relationship' is like a deal to him even.
In exchange for your attention... Swindle will defend you with all the weaponry he's got.
You don't have much of a choice unless you want a cannon in your face.
Swindle also has a vehicle mode you can get in.
What does that mean?
Swindle can trap you within him.
He can take you anywhere he wants with you as an unwilling captive.
He finds your fear kinda cute.
Oh... humans are so reliant on others, aren't they?
You need him like it or not...
Trust him... you want him on your side.
Swindle would take you with him on deals, portraying you as his human pet companion who helps with the merchandise.
Despite being sleazy and deceptive, he does love his darling a ton.
You're the one thing he can't sell.
He picked you out in a deal with another set of humans.
Unfortunate, really, those human friends of yours were really reluctant to let you go.
They have no choice against a Decepticon.
He blew them to bits without a care.
Swindle does love to carry you around, even more so in vehicle mode.
Mostly because in vehicle mode he can lock the doors and prevent your escape.
While you bang on his interior, threatening him to let you out, he talks to you gently while on the road.
He tells you that you'll be great partners.
A human such as you will enjoy adventures in space, away from all the other humans and stuck with him.
He promises he'll take you on some more drives to talk and express your feelings for each other...
But could you stop trying to break out of him?
Swindle does like giving you fresh air, all humans need that.
Just expect him to hold you.
It feels funny when you crawl all over him, almost makes him laugh.
Transformer/Human affection can be difficult at times.
Swindle is aware he can't entirely kiss you like he wants at times.
He'd squish you.
So he asks you to do it for him.
Your own little deal.
If you refuse him then he'll just threaten you.
When you do, it's a small feeling but Swindle enjoys it.
He tries hard not to move when you kiss his face, his purple eyes staring at you intently.
Hugs are also an issue, he has to be extremely careful with you and force you to initiate the affection.
Swindle is very protective of you.
He is also very capable of defending you with the amount of weapons he has.
Swindle also could put you in that organized storage space he has if he feels he needs to....
Try and use another car? He'll chase you down in vehicle form.
As with most Transformer yanderes, you can't run away easily.
You'll run out of gas, he won't.
Don't even waste your time on foot.
Swindle isn't going to let you leave.
No amount of bartering would have him let you go.
He's killed for you.
Defended you.
He'll care for you so don't you dare leave.
Will you make your friends die in vain?
How sad and selfish.
Swindle would emotionally manipulate you to lure you in.
Then he captures you again and the obsession continues stronger.
Swindle feels you and him made a deal.
He can't have you running off with other humans or bots, can he?
A deal requires trust.
He wants you to trust him.
He'll have you keep your end of the deal to make this relationship work...
Even if some persuasive force is required.
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I can't get my emojis to work, but Joshua Whitmore and happiness?
That Familiar Smell of Fresh Paint - Joshua Whitmore/Reader
Warnings: Gender-neutral reader, no use of Y/N.
Wordcount: 2560
Summary: Happiness isn't a familiar feeling to him anymore, but it's the little things is his new life with you that makes him start to remember how it feels.
Notes: I love writing him so much that I'm already looking forward to all the new ideas that came to me as I was working on this QwQ
It was hard at first, but you both expected that after your big, dramatic return from New York. As soon as you'd boarded the plane the two of you knew that things wouldn't be the same now that he'd been found, and sure enough once word got out that you'd not only crashed his big party to steal him back but also returned to Detroit, one Ms. Jorie Chastain was back at your door to properly ask for an interview this time.
Turns out she'd been quite reprimanded by her superiors for her previous ‘interview,’ and you were more than happy to accept her apology money and then have Joshua slam the door in her face as thanks for tearing the painting that was now framed on your wall.
It'd been quite the sum to make up for nearly ruining both your lives, and you put it away to go towards that adorable little property you'd had your eye on since it'd gone on sale. You drove past it the next day with him to test the waters, see if he'd want to start over fresh with you there, just casually mentioning the for sale sign and how you should maybe check it out, get back to animosity since everyone now knew where you lived. He'd been silent, his foot propped on your dashboard and his sketchbook placed against his leg while he drew what he saw, and he'd barely paid the property any attention at all when he caught sight of an overgrown park crawling with nature and freedom.
You try again a couple weeks later when you make the drive to the art store with him to give his legs a rest; he was so used to walking everywhere he'd forgotten completely how to drive, and at first he'd gone on a very long rant about how cars were polluting the environment and how walking was better for the body and mind, although for once he tossed in a little compliment as he commended you for always walking to work even though you did own a vehicle. 
Now, many rides later, he’s relaxed and sitting in the passenger seat while feeling the breeze, completely fine with cars for the moment while you drive, and you point out the for sale sign again as you approach.
‘I see it still hasn't sold, it's a decent property, I wonder what's wrong with it?’ you joke with many glances thrown his way, and this time he did look as he hums to himself.
‘Based on the state of the yard, broken windows on the side of the house, as well as that concerning dent in the roof I'd say it's a wreck inside, owners are probably old and finally selling because they can't afford to keep it in the family anymore, that one won't be housing anyone until the whole thing needs to be gutted,’ he figures before taking his sketchbook back out to work on his park sketch, he only seemed to work on it when you drove together.
‘Oh, how'd you-?’
‘Been in a lot of places like it, I can usually tell from the outside what the inside will be like by now,’ he says without looking up, and for a moment you'd actually forgotten that he'd been on the road the past seven years, not homeless but traveling, of course he'd had to have learned about all the safe and empty places to stay, what would be a risk and what would be a temporary paradise. ‘You're quiet, you wanted that house, didn't you?’
‘What? No, of course not, I've already got a decent duplex, you're not gunna find a better bathroom for that cheap,’ you brush him off nervously, but he doesn’t buy it as he glances at you and keeps drawing. ‘By the way, I've been wanting to ask since I don't see you on my floor, but how's the job going?’
‘Working to survive but not to be happy, it's a hard question to ask, isn't it?’ he begins, and you give him a look until he chuckles. ‘It's fine, been a while since I've been around that many people, and I know the only things they know about me were found on the internet and in that woman's news segment, but I'd prefer it if I was a no one to them again, just so they'd stop staring when I come around.’ He doesn't draw as he speaks this time, his eyes staring out the window as the neighbourhood turned into downtown, the art store in sight.
‘We could always see if you could work from home, I hear that's been a big thing in the city?’ you suggest, but the thought of that makes him visibly recoil.
‘Working at a desk in the comfort of my own home? Taking the precious hours we have in a day to get up, sit in front of those machines and just work until I can't tell what's the job and what's my personal life anymore? That sounds worse than being forced to paint, don't ever say that to me again,’ he grumbles as he hunches up and places his shoes on your dash again. You chuckle softly at the sight, he always knew what he wanted and what he didn't like, and you certainly can't imagine him being able to work on anything other than his paintings while he was home.
‘Sorry, I should've known better,’ you tease, and he just continues grumbling all the way to the parking lot. The art store is more well stocked now that everyone knew he was here, the owner ordering all sorts of professional things since he knew that Joshua would be back in due time, and sure enough he always was to replenish his supplies. It was nice to not be limited to just the children's supplies now, he’s certainly very happy about it as he races for the paints and sees that they were higher quality than last time, and the new brushes he'd suggested have come in as well, the display announcing their newness to the lineup. 
He has his own money again, after the great loss to the show you'd ruined he'd ended up having to pay out of pocket for it all as compensation, but once that was settled and he was finally set free from his contract he was also free to claim the rest of what the bank had been holding for him for almost a decade now that he wasn't legally dead. 
His checking account had been pretty much cleaned, but he'd also had a secret savings account that had been highly suggested by his then girlfriend, since she did care about his future until he'd grown too numb to remember how to love her back anymore. As such, since Mr. Eldred didn't know about it and focused purely on what he had left in his checking, the interest had accumulated into a new mini fortune that he was now slowly blowing through as he spoiled himself with new paints and proper canvases and all the things a starving artist on the streets wouldn't be able to get.
It was funny how fast his views on money had changed when he was able to toss everything onto the counter and pay for it without putting you out.
Now that he has a paycheck again he mostly sticks to using that, the two of you recently having joined your accounts so you could help contribute to his savings. It was a very big step in your relationship, once you discussed many times as you helped him set up an online account so he could see where his paychecks were going without a trip to the bank, but it felt right after your big city rescue. Knowing that he can get whatever he wants, you again wait patiently as he checks out everything and repeatedly goes over his mental inventory of what he still had back home. 
You hang around the register so you won't bother him, he would likely be ignoring you anyway if he wasn't giving you a history lesson about everything he was looking at, so you prefer this option since it gets you home faster. You exchange a friendly nod with the owner, he was very familiar with the both of you now, and get comfy leaning against the counter until he’s done, his voice drifting over the aisles as he openly talks to himself since you weren't there to listen.
‘He sees like a nice guy,’ the owner observes as he also listens, and you smile fondly in his general direction when he sees something he doesn't like and starts talking a bit too loudly about how kids could never flourish with brushes that break that easily and were too cheap to actually hold the paint they were using.
‘He is,’ you reply honestly even as he approaches with an armful of said brushes and sets them down with the intention to have them be removed from the inventory, which of course they wouldn't be. ‘He's a bit insufferable at times, but… he's genuine, and honest, and passionate, and I've never met anyone like him.’ He returns with more as well as the things he actually wants to pay for before disappearing again. ‘I'm sorry about this, I'll put it all back when he goes to the canvases.’
‘It's no problem, it's pretty slow in here when the kids don't have any big art projects going on, gives me something to do,’ the man laughs, and Joshua is very pleased when he finally notices the extra large canvases that were now in stock even though you know it'll be a pain to fit them into the backseat. 
You continue your light conversation with him while Joshua finishes up, and in his excitement the final bill is a bit more than usual, but he’s happy to pay for it all as he hands over his card and punches in the pin. All three of you have to carry everything to your car once the transaction is complete, thankfully he only indulged in one giant canvas this time since he was running out of wall space in his studio, and the rest is tossed into the trunk with great excitement.
‘Thank you for getting these in, and you have my list of more appropriate supplies for the kids’ section, right?’ he asks as you get into the car, Joshua hovering around the door and refusing to let the owner go without his very important suggestions being taken into consideration.
‘I'll see how well the new stuff sells before I order more stock,’ he vows as he backs up towards the door, Joshua ready to walk back in and give him a quick lesson on why he should also really get rid of some other things so he could pay more attention to his rather lacking informational book selection when you lean across the seats, grab him by the back of the hoodie, and pull him in with you. He relents and shuts the door, now preferring to see how this stuff compares to what they provided in his month back in New York since they'd gone for price over preparation, which of course he could tell the difference between. 
You have to pass by the house again to get home, but you can only glance at it longingly this time at the thought of moving him into another rundown place; you don’t want that for him, he deserved someplace open and clean after waking up in empty houses for so long. He sees your look this time and bunches up again to draw, but this time it isn't to work on his park you discover as you pull into your driveway, it’s actually a rough blueprint of how to fix up what he saw on the outside.
‘Need to get in, see how bad it is or if I’m wrong,’ he mutters as he hands the book over after everything is brought in, and your heart pounds a little harder when you read his notes crammed beside the shapes.
‘It’s just a house, we can look together for something better,’ you tell him as you hand it back and head for your laptop, but he just shakes his head and rests his arms over your shoulders, his chin on the top of your head while you sit at the table.
‘Told you I’m good with my hands, did a lot of construction work, if we buy it fast then we could get it cleaned up before it gets worse,’ he says softly, and you realize that he was doing this because it was something you wanted for once, his final hurdle in him getting used to not only living with but also loving someone again.
‘I don’t want you to have to stay in another busted up old house,’ you reply without looking up, your hands still on the keyboard and touchpad as you hover over the real estate site you’d bookmarked weeks ago. ‘This place is fine, we don’t need anything bigger or better, it’s… you deserve better than more broken ceilings and cracked paint.’
He kisses your head then, he was still getting used to giving you affection when he felt like sharing it even though you’d already slept together and had been together for months, but just knowing that he was the one to kiss you this time is enough to make your heart soar. ‘You know I don’t mind the smell of fresh paint, that’s my entire life,’ he reminds you quietly, his lips moving against your hair and his chin digging into your scalp as he speaks, and you free yourself to turn in your chair and stare up at him.
‘So you really wanna do this? You wanna buy a house with me? I’ll have to start driving to work again,’ you gape up at him, and he doesn’t seem too happy about you driving so much, but his expression is still very soft as he leans down even more to rest his chin on your shoulder along with his arm.
‘It’s closer to the art store, we can start walking there together,’ is his reasoning, and you press your own kiss to his cheek before going to the house’s page and checking out the uploaded images together. It’s better than he expected, the damage is mostly on the outside, but he was right about the older owners wanting to sell their family home since they now had a slightly smaller place closer to their grandchildren and couldn’t afford to keep both. He points out the easy fixes, stuff he’d learned how to do years ago, and the second bedroom is the perfect size for an even bigger studio; both bedrooms lead out into the backyard, a proper backyard this time where there’s room for a garden, and a birdbath is already in place and sporting a bluebird in the photo on the screen.
You take it as a sign, you both do, and he decides to save his giant canvas for later as you call up the realtor and set up an appointment to tour the property, Joshua just watching you talk with a content smile on his face all the while.
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take-everything-you-can · 11 months ago
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1. Eddie convincing you to join the mile high club 2. You and Eddie using your hands to pleasure each other in the back of a movie theater 3. Eddie fucking you in the back of his van during lunch break (school or work, whichever), the rocking of the vehicle and the LOUD moans he's drawing from you making it abundantly clear what's going on. When you two finally finish, get yourselves cleaned up and put back together, and emerge from the van there's a round of applause and cheering from those near enough to see and hear what was going on. Eddie's all kinds of smug, and rightly so. 4. Eddie knocks you up without even trying, and despite him wearing a condom and you being on the pill - and it's twins. Meanwhile, it gets out all over Hawkins that Jason Carver is both impotent and infertile and that 'his' kids are really Billy Hargrove's. Jury is still out on whether Billy and Jason's lady had an affair or used a turkey baster. 5. More Eddie adjacent than Eddie, but... based on this pic of Joel Stoffer (Wayne Munson)... https://m.media-amazon.com/images/M/MV5BMjFlOTY2YTUtMWFhNC00M2Q4LThhZDktMDlkZWZmMTMzNzk2XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMzQ2NDgxMQ@@.V1.jpg -- Wayne is Eddie's actual biological father. Wayne and Eddie's mom had a drunken one-night stand at some point while Al was in jail yet again. Maybe revenge for Al screwing another woman? Anyway, Eddie's mom ends up preggers with Eddie, and she and Wayne both know it's really Wayne's kiddo but for her safety have to pretend it's Al's. 6. During Steve and Nancy's wedding reception, you and Eddie sneak off to fuck in the women's dressing room. Eleven catches you two when she returns to the dressing room to change her heeled shoes for sneakers because her feet are hurting. She hears what sounds to her like someone fighting, and uses her superpowers to rip the doors off the hinges. It doesn't take her long to figure out what's really going on, and she finally understands what Max meant by 'happy screams'.
Thank you for sending so many thots babe #6 I'm not gonna touch on cause anything involving the kiddos in walking in on Eddie or R during smexy time gives me the ick butttttttt. 1-5 I got you babe
1. The second you step into the airport that man is on you ! The second you jokingly ask him about it and see how stuff his posture goes you know what been brewing behind those brown eyes! But the second he steps into the bathroom after you and realized how small his space to move was he hates it instantly and vows that it's only ever happening that once. Yet Everytime you are on a plane together he caves and fits himself back into the tiny bathroom.
2. Thank God the movie theater speakers are loud and ominous as you got him in to see Jennifer's body. But as that lighter flickers over her tounge Eddie starts to shift in his seat as he sees you clench your thighs repeatedly against the popcorn in your lap. So he offers a helping hand one you take without hesitation and offer your own in return meeting his fingers with strokes that are locked in a battle to see who can get who off first.
3. Not the small crowd I'd be so proud yet so incredibly embarrassed if that ever happened to me like yesssss go off queen but no no no ....... You pretty just ask Eddie to take you home and instead he takes you to his house to get your mind off of everyone that was outside the van he lovingly tells you that they won't remember it in a few days time but when he goes down on you you forget instantly.
4. THAT RIGHT THERE 👌 yeah I can see Eddie being a fertile myrtle ... He's just cocky enough boast not knowing that his sperm can withstand gama rays!! I fully believe he is in it for a big family !
Also the Jason story arc is so good I'm fucking dying 😂😂
5. I can't say much here cause I have a baby ficlet similar to this in the works except more fluffy with a different kind of angst for my angieverse but Annie you really pull at my heart strings with this one
6. Stancy is not my endgame but to each his own if Steve ever does settle down with whomever he choses I fully believe eddie is sleeping with a bridesmaid best believe and that's all im saying lol
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unsoundedcomic · 1 year ago
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In terms of writing, it seems to me that you are closer to an outliner than a seat-of-the-pants writer. Would you say that's accurate? Do you think that the webcomic format necessitates more planning than just writing prose?
Yes, outlining is crucial. I don't know how anyone could write a complex high fantasy story with set-ups and pay-offs without planning.
But there are all kinds of comics. People do seat-of-the-pants comics for 24-hour Comic Day every year, and they're exactly that.
Broadly, I think comics have less in common with prose than with film, and films have elaborate outlining and planning stages that are similar to comics. Comic pages are frequently thumbnailed first similarly to the storyboards of films. Their characters and locations need to be designed; the props, the vehicles, and about a hundred more things if it's a high fantasy world. Planning out a comic and then never actually starting to draw that comic is so common it's a trope! :)
A WEBcomic makes this a thousand times harder because one can't go back and change one's mind. I can't go rewrite or redraw chapter 2. There's a tiny horse in chapter 3 and there it shall remain for all time. The story is published, it'd done, it's out there. If I think of something better? Too bad. If I realise I made a mistake? Tough titties, better think up a work-around and start calling that horse a weird dog.
Imagine, writers, trying to do that without planning. Imagine if you had to publish your work as you're making it, one page at a time - imagine that page of prose going out - and you can never go back and change it once it's released! That's it. It's done. It's in stone!
There are plenty of comics and webcomics (and a few giant film franchises like Star Wars, which blows my mind) that are NOT planned, and you can always tell. Many of the webcomics just throw up their hands and stop updating when the creator realises they're stuck. Hayao Miyazaki stopped writing scripts for his later movies and you can tell. His storyboards are completely seat-of-his-pants and since the films began animating before the boards were even done, the stories are a mess with rushed final acts. But we still love them, the sloppy narratives are part of their charm.
There aren't too many narrative mediums where that seat-of-the-pants method is wholly successful. Prose, poetry, straight ahead animation... maaaaybe certain film genres but even those are taking their unplanned footage and carefully editing it afterwards.
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96percentdone · 1 year ago
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Lately I've started thinking that Furue Jin is so absent from Nirvana Initiative on purpose. Hear me out. Here's a list of things we learn about Jin complete with how we learn it:
He is a CEO of a japan only not-spotify, a businessman and author. Boss and several other characters tell this to us. Riichi mentions that although they're both rich businessmen and he's heard of him, they have not met.
He runs a twitter account! Everyone has a different opinion about this twitter account, from Kagami thinking he's "a brilliant genius who isn't afraid of cutting through bullshit," to Amame thinking he "a pretentious jerk who constantly complains online to draw attention to himself". We never see his twitter account or any of the tweets. He circulates that picture of "himself" online, but we don't see the evidence of that either. It's just told to us.
He spent his whole childhood and teenage years in the hospital, and even went to school there because he was ill. We learn this from Shouma who also remarks how lonely he must have been.
The nurse says that "Jin-chan" was extremely meek and timid, and couldn't even use the restroom alone. She also says he was very meticulous and tidy.
Horadori Chikara called Jin "the almighty" because of a birthmark on his face that resembles a % sign, which is an important cult symbol. To him, Jin is a vehicle for perfection/god. We learn this from Shigure.
At one point, Shigure Tokiko loved him because he was her son and did not want to give him up. She then stopped caring about him or anyone after a suicide attempt when the guilt from kidnapping a child got too real.
Uru accuses Jin of constantly mocking him in the same paragraph he mentions Jin has apologized one million times before in his murder diary. Uru also patently does not understand at all why "Mom" "loves" Jin. Mizuki concludes Jin was not a bad guy at the end of the game and that he meant that apology. We do not see this event in a flashback or have a record of Jin's thoughts before he went down there.
There's a trend here. None of this is first hand. Now, you might think "well he's dead first thing so we can't get too much from him himself" but that's weaksauce look. Renju was dead first thing and we had several flashbacks with him IN it, and this game makes great use of reading journals and diaries. There's no reason they can't have shown us something he wrote, his tweets, his social media, his writing, his thoughts in the hospital—anything! This is deliberate.
It's all other people's recollection and opinions; he's a mirror to project on. With a game about duality, they've made a lot of use of the mirror motif, so here's a guy who exists only in reflections had by other people. In universe, he has half of Uru's body, but in the narrative he has NOTHING of his own. Whatever you make of him is entirely determined by the filters of other characters and then yourself.
I think this is a bold choice, and certainly interesting, but I still can't say I think it's a good one. He's the very first victim and too wrapped up in Uru's trauma to be so missing from the text. The duality motif would be better explored by having him appear to be one way and then revealed another way without all the layers and layers and layers of guesswork and interpretation because of subjective opinions WITHIN THE TEXT by having him also be a mirror guy. It's getting in its own way, and it makes his death have like no emotional impact, which is weird. He's the FIRST VICTIM. I SHOULD CARE MORE THAT HE DIED. It's not really great if at the end of the mystery most players are asking "hey so who even really. Was the dead guy anyway." And there's more interesting story potential in allowing him to BE then in obfuscating him.
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saltysaltdog · 1 year ago
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I promised to post scraps, and I can't figure out how to rework this into what I want. I'll do a proper ao3 link later.... maybe.
Mixed signalling
Optimus Prime and Agent Fowler are on a routine patrol when he's brutally reminded of the traffic differences between countries.
Transformers prime. G rating, 780+ words. Optimus Prime & Agent Fowler.
Agent Fowler wasn't paying that much attention to the road. So when the truck slammed on its brakes, forcing itself into a stop so quickly the trailer end lifted off the ground, he wasn't prepared for it and fell forwards, the horn so loud he couldn't feel anything else.
While this would be a problem, he wasn't driving even though he was in the driver's seat. Optimus Prime had never liked anyone trying to drive him. The wheel, turning signals and brakes were mainly cosmetic. Fowler had never really needed to correct Optimus on anything, so when the brake lights flashed on the vehicle ahead and he felt the truck slowing down he figured Prime had it handled. 
Fowler fell back onto his seat, unable to draw in air, but the horn was still blaring without his weight on it. He could just barely see the car over Prime's hood.
"Get some proper tail lights you moron!" Prime shouted at the small hatchback which zoomed off as fast as it could. 
"Prime!" Fowler shouted.
Optimus didn't answer for a second too long and he grabbed the gear shift. He flicked the blinkers as he found a place to pull over. "Have you lost your mind?" 
"I'm sorry, Agent Fowler," Optimus's deep voice finally rumbled. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"You did more than just that, Prime," Fowler commented, seeing the road smoking in the rear view mirror. 
"Are you alright?" Optimus asked, suddenly concerned.
"Yeah, fine," he brushed off, and then rubbed his chest, feeling the outline of where the steering wheel hit. He was going to have bruises later. 
He unbuckled his seat belt and slid out onto the verge, shutting the door behind him.
He took a deep breath before assessing the damage, crouching down to look at the wheels and the shock absorbers. Prime hadn't been hitched to anything so at least there was no cargo to check.
The wheels didn't look too bad, they still had treads and he felt along the bumper for any new dents. There were so many scratches already, he really should get it seen by a mechanic.
"What are you doing?" 
"You nearly hit someone, Prime, I got to make sure that-" he'd been about to say that the truck was fine, which would be odd because Optimus was the truck.
"Thank you for your concern," Optimus said after a moment. "However, I have sustained no injuries."
"Mind telling me what the hell that was then?" Fowler asked, straightening up and taking a look around. The area they were in wasn't that mountainous, and since logging trucks had to use the area the roads didn't have too many curves, but it was enough to have him rattled about running into someone else. It was too hard to see if other vehicles were around.
"...I have been doing missions in Australia," Optimus admitted, somewhat reluctantly. "The models of vehicles there are less confusing. I've had trouble adjusting back to the American standard."
"Australia huh, yeah. Something about signals in the outback. Don't they drive on the other side of the road? What's that got to do with nearly rear ending someone."
"It wasn't my fault," Optimus snapped. "They were the ones who chose to have their brake lights double as turning signals!"
His engines revved loudly.
"Woah, easy big guy."
"I could have squashed them!"
"Nobody's getting squished," Agent Fowler asserted.
He waited for the revving to settle a bit before approaching, feeling a bit like he was subduing a wild horse. A feeling that wasn't helped by him running his hand along the hood and finding it warm and breathing.
He didn't actually know when Optimus may have calmed down, but he waited for what felt like long enough to him before settling back into the cab and putting his seat belt back on. 
They pulled out and this time Fowler paid attention to the road, keeping one hand on the steering wheel at all times.
He blinked as rain started to fall and automatically hit the wipers, forgetting that Prime disliked the micromanagement. There was no reprimand however, as Prime slowly rolled up to a stop sign. 
"I can't handle much more of this."
Fowler blinked, uncertain he'd even heard it over the sound of the rain. 
"...Did you want me to drive for a while?"
There was no response but a weary little shift of the truck on its wheels and it pulled forward, too slowly to be intentional. 
Fowler took the wheel and pressed on the pedal. With a rumble underneath him, he was driving the truck as Prime fiddled with the radio, trying to find a good signal. 
They finished the patrol without a word.
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canmom · 1 year ago
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L'Aventur de Canmom à Annecy - Mercredi 4: WTF 2023
WTF (read 'what the fuck' in a heavy French accent) seems to be a kind of annual collection of weird online shit. Titmouse is involved in some capacity, although I don't think they're necessarily the ones who picked the films. And while I did recognise one selection (umami had a film) most of it was new to me and there were some crazy good ones...
... but most of all the atmosphere of the late night screening was amazing. I got in at the last minute and somehow ended up in a reserved seat for Titmouse, since I guess they didn't show? Which meant I had one of the best views in the house. The theatre was completely packed and full of excitement.
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So then this guy comes out in the skintight purple vest and cape and rainbow stockings. The boss of Titmouse comes on stage and picked up one of the paper planes to invite whoever threw it to come and bite a balloon in half (which would have been a better bit if the person actually did it).
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Then came the directors of the films, mostly to tell jokes ("there's too much business and not enough fucking at Annecy" declared one director, instructing us to have sex tonight). After these guys... some Gobelins instructors came out to throw shirts into the crowd, people went absolutely nuts for these shirts. Then: films.
Actually a bunch of these are available online so... here, watch along x3
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To open we had this stop motion earworm, Du vélo à St-Malo, du kayak à St-Briac. By the second chorus, the audience was singing along. The images are a bit lolrandom but I can't deny it's infectious in its editing.
Next up came the debut of David by Patrick Ward, about a seriously injured footballer confronting his rival framed through the story of David and Goliath. Lots of little visual jokes that made it flow even if the overall thrust of the story remained a little opaque to me.
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Umami's Safe Mode was a natural fit; if you've seen an Umami film you know what to expect. Surreal character designs and a guy with a monotone voice. Looking forward to more of this series.
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The Rubbings of Trajectories by Cheng-Hsu Chung from Taiwan took things in a rather Adventure Time direction in its drawing style, full of wild perspective shifts and morphing. I was a little too caught up in the visuals to take a lot from the voiceover lol.
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Insomnie by Paul Utkay leaned on Stable Diffusion interpolation for its surreal shifting visuals. This was I think the only time, besides the one after this, I've seen AI in the festival, and right now the main use of AI seems to be like this, a visual effect.
Following this came Two Gracious Uncles Smooched To The Beat (currently password locked so I can't embed it) by Jon Dunleavy, a completely frenetic sendup of the whole AI art 事件. Rather than being made by AI it's mostly deliberately janky cgi, rapidfire jokes, and wrong subtitles as an extra layer, which made for a fun watch. The thesis was maybe something like, "this is all a bit silly". As a programming move, putting this right after the AI film was kind of genius.
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A Kind of Testament by Stephen Vuillemin was simply fantastic, absolutely the highlight of this collection. The framing device is that a woman stumbles on a website created by another older woman with the same name as her, consisting of incredibly elaborate animations based on her social media photos. As we watch more, we learn more about this mysterious animator, who died shortly after the protagonist contacted her. Ultimately though this framing device is just a vehicle for some really tight imaginatively grotesque shorts that gradually start to connect up more and more. I hesitate to call it ero-guro because it's not exactly ero, but it definitely put me in mind of e.g. shintaro kago. the framing device works just right, linking the shorts and providing a certain frame for interpretation - the animator is terminally ill, so jokes about foot killing parasites and regrets make sense - without being overbearing. honestly just a really great film, the perfect level of enigmatic. i hope i can show more than the trailer some day.
Internet Gaga by Reinhild Bidner slammed into a much faster pace, a pastiche of Radio Gaga by Queen with the music video consisting mainly of cutout animation and AI deepfake animation of memes. Two minutes was about the right length for this lol. But yeah, haha, the internet, what a mess amirite
Todo está perdido by Carla Pereira Docampo and Juan Francisco Jacinto Prados was a fascinating oddity though. Stop motion, with these wildly distorted models - built in forwards or backwards slants and birdlike eyes. The story concerns a suburban nuclear family where the mother lays eggs, which they mostly eat, but decide to fertilise one one day, resulting in a baby with a wrinkled head hatching. The B plot concerns their other child who gets a rat inside her skin by accident during surgery. As you can imagine it went for the squick reactions. I can't find an online video of this one but here's a previous project by the same directors.
From this point on things got pretty wild. First up we had Uncle Babysitter 2 by Tung Yin Ng aka Tungwood.
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as far as toilet humour goes? This was actually great, just relentless gleeful escalation. I got to chat a bit with Tungwood and his friends after the films, and funnily enough he was very shy and would run up to people saying 'souvenir' and give them a card for the film. It was very funny talking to a group of animators, which in my eyes is like the peak of the world's professions, and have them act impressed when i say I'm a game dev.
Anyway, this was a really fun short about a baby's adventure inside a man's stomach as the man desperately tries to pull him out. The breakneck editing really makes the stupid jokes work, it's kinda Imaishi in that way.
Granny X by DD Sheahan relaxed the pace only barely, telling the story of an old lady in a nursing home having a vivid lesbian fantasy that in the waking world leads to her careening around strangling nurses and stuff. It was fun visually, although the humour seemed generally a little meaner.
Monsterfuckers by the Tohu Animation Collective led by Ori Goldberg was something like a multi animator project with loops contributed by different animators around the vague prompt of monsters having sex. So this one's like, straight up porn but weird porn so it gets to be in here lol. The editing to the music was tight and many of the clips were really creative - but no sign of it online as yet so I can't show you.
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We were really on a roll at this point. The final part was the music video for Cool Party by Simon Medard for a band called Cocaine Piss, which pushed the jank factor to maximum. It didn't do a lot for me but it kept the energy going. After that we spilled out onto the lawn outside Bonlieu and everyone gathered in small groups. Not really wanting to just walk away, I inserted myself into conversations here and there, said some nice things to the showrunner, met Tungwood... and then at last time to go home, packed on the last bus like sardines.
Honestly, even if it could have been a little weirder to be truly 'what the fuck', this event was a blast. I mean you know how much I like this kind of thing lmao.
As for Thursday... haha god it's 2am. I'll write about it tomorrow... or maybe on Saturday... but the very short version is that I saw Art College 1994 (solid, donghua with a realist style and richard linklater energy), Kensuke's Kingdom (impressively elaborate adaptation of a Michael Morpurgo story, had a bit of an Iron Giant feel visually), White Plastic Sky (a very compelling scifi dystopian drama from Hungary in a rotoscoped style similar to A Scanner Darkly), stood in line for two hours for Mars Express and still didn't get in, watched a bit of Perspectives block 1 (mostly bad, it's the block for serious social issues rather than compelling storytelling) and then tried Graduation Films 3 (sadly could not live up to Graduation Films 2). So a bit of an unfortunate end to the day but that's how it be sometimes...
Tomorrow I've got another packed day so I'm gonna end up really behind on these writeups but stand by lol. Annecy is amazing, I don't want it to end...
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casspurrjoybell-17 · 1 year ago
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Heart’s Choice - Chapter 6
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*Warning Adult Content*
- Carlos -  
Clutching the plastic evidence bag containing my belongings, I shake my head.
"I'm not working with him."
We stand under the harsh fluorescent lights in the station's lobby, which except for a few dusty fake plants and a row of plastic chairs along the wall, is empty. 
It's nearly midnight.
The chief of police angles a hawkish gray brow at me. 
"Standard consultation fee."
"I think you have me confused with someone else," I say.
"I don't consult with the police. You should contact Julian Hart if you want a psychic."
She puts her hands on her hips, reminding me of how Aunt Toni used to look when she wanted me to do something and there was absolutely no way I was getting out of it.
"First thing I did when I saw those symbols at the crime scene," she says. "He's busy. Out of town with Hunter on some thing."
"Hunter, as in the former detective?"
This comes from John Turner, who hasn't stopped scowling since his boss rescued me.
"One and the same."
"He works with a psychic now?" 
The tiny lift at the corner of his lip reveals his disdain for the idea.
"Well, he married one, anyway. Speaking of, don't you go stealing this one on me, Martinez," she nods at Turner. "I can't afford to keep replacing them."
The flush and look of horror on the detective's face tells me there's a better chance of a snowstorm in Hell.
"Don't worry," I say. "I'll tell you what I know but that's it. I was just tryna help Kyle, not play cop."
The chief eyes me critically. 
"All right. Answer two questions for me, Martinez. Is this some warlock wannabe who found those symbols on the internet somewhere or is this the real deal?"
I swallow. 
I'd rinsed my mouth out in the bathroom but the taste of vomit lingers, stirring my nausea anew. 
"It's the real deal," I say and she nods. "And is this the end of it? Or should we be worried?"
"It's just the beginning," I whisper.
She releases a heavy breath and smooths a hand over her gray hair, which is bound in a neat, single braid. 
"Listen, Martinez. There are indications that Kyle knew his killer. I can't reveal more details until you're onboarded as a consultant but it might shed light on things. Meanwhile, you've got expertise my team needs. You wanna help Kyle, don't you?"
"Yes but..."
"Think about it. Call me when you change your mind." 
She turns to the detective and nods. 
"Take him home."
Turner blinks, taken aback. 
"What?"
"Do you need your hearing checked? I said take him home."
Turner bristles. 
"With all due respect, Chief, I've got a long report to write up and I don't have time to play taxi driver."
Chief Coleridge is a good twelve inches shorter than Turner but as she draws herself up, she seems to grow taller while he shrinks. 
"With all due respect, detective Turner, tell me if I've got the facts straight. According to the statement that you yourself took, Martinez left his vehicle on the other side of town. His phone is dead. The buses stop running at eight and it's past midnight. The man has no shoes, his clothes are wet and it's forty-eight degrees outside. Am I wrong?"
No, but..."
"So, take him home."
Without waiting for a reply, she turns and marches up the stairs to the second floor offices.
Turner mutters a word under his breath. 
"Bitch."
I shift awkwardly from side to side. 
"It's okay, really. It's not that far. I can walk."
The detective looks at me and rubs the back of his head, making me accidentally appreciate the sculpted bulk of his shoulder and biceps. 
His expression softens a little, as if he's seeing me for the first time without his cop glasses on.
"Nah. I fucked up big time tonight and the Chief's got both our balls in a vice. Least I can do is give you a ride. Come on."
He leads the way outside and I follow, wincing as my sore feet encounter freezing concrete. 
I got scraped up pretty bad when Prince Charming here hauled me out of the stream. 
He glances over his shoulder at me and frowns, probably annoyed that I'm not keeping up.
"Wait here," he says. "I'll bring my car around."
He strides off at triple speed and I sigh. 
Yep, he's annoyed.
A moment later, a black, unmarked sedan pulls around the side of the building and comes to a stop. 
The passenger side door pops open and I see Turner at the wheel. 
I get in, shut the door and shiver with relief as I feel warm air blasting from the vents on the dash.
I reach for one, intending to angle it more towards myself and for some reason Turner reaches for the same vent at the same time. 
His hand brushes mine and he snatches it back as if burned.
"It's not contagious," I say, rolling my eyes and hunching in my seat.
"What?"
"The Gay or whatever it is you're afraid of. You're not my type." 
The only lie I've told so far. 
"Besides, you're married, aren’t you?"
He clears his throat. 
"Divorced."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
He turns his attention to the road and I figure the conversation is over. 
He startles me when he speaks again.
"I'm sorry, too. I crossed a line, showing you those photos. I'll be lucky if the chief doesn't write me up for it."
I shake my head. 
"You were just doing your job."
"Not very well, it seems," he sighs. "So, what's the deal, anyway? What did you mean when you told the chief this was 'just the beginning?'"
I glance at him but he's facing forward, eyes on the road. 
He's got a sharp jaw and a strong chin and his nose looks like it's been broken at least once. 
A thin scar bisects one brow and a shadow darkens his hazel eyes, as if he's seen too many things he can't un-see.
"I don't know. I'll have to verify some things with my aunt."
"Your aunt? What, is she a ghostbuster, too or whatever you are?"
"Asesina. My family are 'asesinos.'"
"I thought you said you weren't a murderer?"
I glance at him again in surprise. 
"You speak Spanish?"
"Just a few words. I know that one."
"Oh. Well, yeah, it means killer or murderer. In this case it's 'slayer.' Asesinos de espíritus malos, killers or slayers of evil spirits. That was the, er... the 'family business,' traditionally. My aunt's the last one and she's given it up. She still knows all the shit, though."
"And?"
"And..." I take a breath. 
I recognized the symbols and given what happened to Kyle, there's almost no doubt in my mind as to what they are and yet it still feels like a dream and like saying it aloud will make the nightmare real. 
"It's part of a ritual," I say. "A ritual to summon a powerful demon and gain it's favor."
"A real demon?"
 "No, an imaginary demon."
He glances over and narrows his eyes at me. 
"Fine. Let's say I believe in demons. You said 'part of a ritual.' What's the rest of it?"
A traffic light changes and he comes to a stop, engine idling. 
I stare at the bright red signal, as if it can burn the memories of what I'd seen in those photos from my mind.
"There are three parts," I say. "Three 'feasts' or offerings held at specific times. That was the Feast of Pain. Next is the Feast of Blood. Finally, the Feast of Betrayal, in which the demon possesses and takes the life of a human host."
I shiver so violently i bite my tongue. 
Turner notices and turns up the heat.
"Okay. So what I'm hearing is this killer isn't done."
I shake my head.
"What's he get out of it, anyway? I mean, assuming this 'demon' is real."
I shrug.
"Power, youth, longevity, wealth. Something along those lines, usually."
Turner grunts, but says nothing more.
 The light changes and he drives on, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.
A few minutes later, we arrive at the garage. 
He pulls around the back, close to the stairs that lead up to my apartment and parks.
"Thanks for the ride," I say, opening the door. "And don't worry. I'll let you know if I have any helpful information to share but otherwise I want nothing to do with this. In fact, I want to stay as far away from it as possible."
He nods. 
"Good. I respect the chief but I've already got a partner and no desire to run around playing Scooby Do."
I get out, wincing as my bare feet encounter cold, sharp gravel. 
Turner reaches over and opens his glove box, rummages within and extracts a business card.
"Call me if you've got something real for me."
I resist the urge the flip him off 'barely' and take the card, slamming the door shut with a little more force than needed. 
He drives away.
Wearily, I climb the stairs, unlock my door and let myself in. 
Then I toss his card in the trash, take a shower and fall into bed.
I wake, early the next morning, to something tickling my face. 
I brush it away. 
I'm tickled again. 
I brush it off again and roll over.
Spiders don't bother me, little eight-legged freak can go fuck itself.
Meanwhile, my alarm hasn't even gone off yet and I had a late, traumatic night.
A sharp slap has me wide awake and bolt upright in bed.
"What the fuck?"
I peel something off my forehead. 
It's Detective Turner's card. 
Meanwhile, my phone, which I didn't take the time to plug in the night before, is fully charged and placed helpfully beside my bed.
"Are you fucking with me, Kyle? You want me to work with the cops? Is that why you led me under the bridge?"
The temperature in the room drops a good ten degrees and the light in my closet flicks on.
"Are you kidding me?"
The light fizzles and pops and I raise my hands in surrender.
"All right, all right. Don't burn the house down. I'll call him. You happy now?"
The light flicks back on.
Great.
I make a mental note to pick up some warding supplies in town, set some basic roommate bounds. 
I don't mind Kyle sticking around but I don't want him watching me sleep.
In the meantime, I study the name on the card.
"Well, Mr. John M. Turner," I sigh. "Looks like you and I get a second date. Set up by a ghost. Too bad you don't bat for my team."
The light in the closet goes out.
I admit defeat and reach for my phone.
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