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kawaiikenna · 2 years

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Wrote this in an hour maybe? It’s time for bed. -_-;;; So enjoy this ficlet/long prompt/fic idea. Also this will probably be super triggering to some individuals. Please read with caution. I’m not going to tag all the tw’s though cause I’m faaaaar too tired. I’ll edit this tomorrow. Maybe. Eh, we’ll see.

Danny thought that life had been going just great. He had ended up being fostered by Wayne’s after a falling out with his parents over something that wasn’t even ghost related. The only reason why he was where he was, was because Bruce owed Vlad a favor. Danny didn’t know what kind of favor was owed, and he didn’t want to know. In the end he actually did get along with the gaggle of Wayne kids. It ended up being one of the most peaceful times in his life up until then.

Until it wasn’t.

The day had started off as normally as any other day he had been in the Wayne Manor. Danny woke up, got dressed, had breakfast with Bruce and the remaining siblings, then headed off to school. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except, Danny never made it to school.

There was no note, no call, nothing. It was as if Danny had suddenly stopped existing. No one saw anything. The cameras were spotty at best. They had no leads. Nothing to go off of. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Day after day, week after week. There was nothing until suddenly there was something.

An unaddressed envelope with several embossed tickets inside. Each ticket had a vigilante’s name scrawled in Danny’s very distinctive half cursive writing. That week on Friday night, there was to be a kind of traveling entertainer’s troupe in town. The main attraction was apparently a white haired boy that would end up doing all sorts of extremely dangerous tricks and dares. The batfam geared up and hoped that somewhere, somehow, they would be able to find Danny here at this almost circus themed attraction.

What they found instead was a completely empty building. The inside was set up in a way that made it seem like it was the inside of a Hollywood circus tent. Sheets of fabric hung from the ceiling, there was a ring set up in the center with a platform in the middle of that. A tightrope set up far above their heads, a metal hoop dangled down from the ceiling, thick ropes of fabric strung up on either side.

Suddenly, a bright spotlight lit up the center platform. There, two figures were illuminated. Both clowns but extremely different from each other. One the batfam knew almost intimately, Joker. The other, a stranger but he seemed to fit in with the aesthetic of their city.

All batfam members are incapacitated and forced to watch against their will. For some reason they’ve been wrapped up in 2D, neon green animals.

The two present the fantabulous Phantom. The white haired boy from the poster appeared from nowhere. As Joker and the newly introduced Freak Show narrated, Phantom did everything they said. He interacted with various props, did a few tricks, he juggled at one point. Sharp daggers whirling through the air in a professional practiced manner until Freak Show said that somehow Phantom had fumbled. True to his word, the boy did fumble. Sharp daggers falling haphazardly around him. The teen did not move a single inch, even as a dagger nearly pierced through the flesh of his cheek leaving a long bleeding cut down his face. Instead it buried itself into the unmoving teen’s shoulder. He pulls the dagger out of his shoulder nonchalantly and lets it clatter to the floor.

Without getting any kind of treatment the teen starts up one of the pillars to get to the tightrope platform. There’s no safety gear in sight as the teen starts to walk the tightrope. Joker and Freak Show commiserate him on almost getting to the other side. At the last moment, Phantom ‘slips’ and is now hanging comically by one hand on the rope.

Two Joker lackeys come out with an old fireman’s trampoline. They run back and forth as they try to predict where Phantom would fall. In the end though, they miss completely and Phantom ends up landing in a broken heap on the ground.

At this point the batfam are in a nearly crazed state. Even if they don’t know exactly who Phantom is, this was wrong. It was all WRONG.

Under Joker and Freak Show’s prodding and goading, Phantom gets back up. Multiple traumatic wounds can be seen. But in the next instant flesh stitches itself back together and bones mend themselves back under his skin and back into place.

~~~

So basically our two clown dimwits are physically bullying and hurting Danny. Freak Show has the teen under mind control again and makes him extremely docile. There’s no outward expression of any kind, his eyes are dead and unseeing. This goes on for a while until Freak Show tries to get Danny to hurt one of the batfam.

This does not go as planned at all and now they have an extremely angry and eldritch Danny on their hands. He goes on a rampage and ends up destroying nearly everything. But he still protects his newfound family, getting them out of harm’s way.

The batfam on the other hand have no clue how to process that their shy, sweet, quiet Danny is also the massive monster rampaging around.

After Danny had finally calmed down; he went straight to Bruce and promptly passed out. There was no waking the kid up until he decided to get up.

- - -

Will I expand on this idea? Meh. I’m not sure, maybe. I’d love to hear your guys’ thoughts on this though. -w-

#danny phantom #dp x dc #danny fenton #dc #dc x dp #batman #dp #dc comics #dpxdc #dp x dc prompt #batfam #writing prompts #dp x dc crossover #eldritch ghost king danny

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 8 months

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Puppy love

Masterlist

Starring: Dad!August, Mike, guest appearance; Syverson

Summary: August is not happy when his daughter first starts dating 'that Syverson boy'.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: Fluff, overprotective dad!August, family drama, teen angst, super-duper unreasonable parents, and vague mentions of teens having sex, I guess that needs a warning or something?

A/N: And now for something completely different... Written from August's POV. Unfortunately, he got married, and they had a baby, and unfortunately the baby was a girl, who is now unfortunately 16 years old, and unfortunately wants to date boys, who unfortunately happens to be the son of his college rival; James Syverson. 80% of this fic is just August being on the verge of having a fucking heart attack because of teen shenanigans. And they're not even that bad.

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @littlefreya @mayloma @summersong69 @livisss @winter2112rose @changenameno @wa-ni (still not allowed to tag you, sorry :( )

“Daddy, come on, it’s just a date!”

“Princess, you’re too young to date.”

“Oh my god! Mom!” She stormed out of the kitchen, and you foolishly thought you could pick up the paper again. “Please talk some sense into dad!”

And there she was again. Both of them, even. You sighed and put the paper back down.

“August, for the love of God, she’s sixteen! She can date!” Your wife put her hands on her hips — you hated it when she did that.

“Not with that...” You struggled to find the words without letting the entire house in on why exactly you didn’t approve of this boy. Other than him wanting to do unspeakable things to your daughter, of course.

“He’s a sweet kid,” your wife said, rolling her eyes — you hated it when she did that, too.

“He’s a Syverson!” you blurted out. “She’s not going out with the son of that sleazy, good-for-nothing son of a—”

“Only if you can say it in church, August!” You didn’t even go to church! Neither did your wife, but it was her go-to way of keeping you from swearing, and as much as you hated to admit it, it worked.

“Junior can forget it,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

“Go get ready, sweetie,” your wife said to your daughter. Your blood was boiling. Did you have absolutely no authority in your own damn house? Not usually, no... “I’ll have a chat with your father.”

“So, you want to take my daughter out?” You took pleasure in staring the boy in front of you down, and you were pleased to report he was scared to death. Or at least he had the decency to fake it.

“Yes, sir,” he said, swallowing audibly, “we’re going to see a movie. I’ll have her home by eleven.”

“Ten,” you replied brusquely.

“Dad!” your daughter squealed as she came down the stairs. “Can you be normal for like... Five seconds? Mom! He’s doing it again; he’s ruining my life!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, princess!” you scoffed.

“August, that’s enough!” You glared at your wife, who turned to the boy in front of you.

“You two have fun,” she said. “Bring her back in one piece, James.”

“Eh, it’s Mike, ma’am.” He didn’t look at her as he said it.

“I’m sorry?”

“My middle name is Michael. I’m not overly fond of the whole ‘Junior’ thing,” he admitted. “Anyway. When is her curfew, exactly? I really don’t want to get her in trouble.”

“Then leave—ow!” Maybe you deserved that kick in the shins.

“She’s late,” you grumbled. “And I mean he brought her home late.”

“Oh, August, please! They’re right outside, you can hear them!” She rolled her eyes at you again.

“There’s too much giggling if you ask me,” you sneered. And right when you said it, the giggling stopped — which was far more disconcerting, as far as you were concerned.

“August, don’t,” your wife sighed as you got off the couch and walked towards the front door.

“That’s quite enough, young man,” you snapped when you pulled the door open and were met with the unpleasant sight of the Syverson boy harassing your precious little girl. That had to be it, right?

“Dad, oh my god! Stop embarrassing me!” She let out a frustrated scream and turned to Mike. “I’m so sorry, Mike... I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

As soon as the door closed behind her, you knew you were in for it.

“Dad, you are certifiably insane, okay? It was just a kiss, for fuck’s sake!”

“Language, young lady!” you tried, but you were fairly sure you’d find no backup in this case. Your wife was staring you down from the couch in the living room.

“No, dad,” she yelled. “You’re nuts. That’s it. Why can’t you just be normal? Why do you have to be crazy? You just totally humiliated me, like...”

“Princess, I’m just trying to protect you,” you said as you reached out to pull her into a hug, but she pushed you away.

“Daddy, I’m serious! We went to the movies, we had a really nice time and then he drove me home and so what if he kissed me? Like, you didn’t have to show up like that, acting like a complete psycho. It was beyond cringe! I’m literally mortified, like what were you even thinking?” She sighed dramatically and threw her hands up. “Whatever. I’m going to my room. Stay out of my business!”

“Well, that went... Well,” you said as you sat down on the couch, with the — admittedly false — hope of getting some sympathy from your lovely wife.

“No, August, it did not.”

“Ok, so, we’ll be in my room,” she said, already tugging Mike along towards the stairs, and before you could say anything, they were gone.

“Hold on—” you started, but your wife grabbed your elbow, calming you down slightly. But only slightly.

“Let them,” she sighed, the sound cutting through you like a knife, “remember when we were young?” She wrapped her arms around your neck and kissed you, and it took everything to not push her away, knowing where her mind was — with her sixteen-year-old self, in her bedroom, fooling around with her high school sweetheart: none other than James Syverson.

Yes, James Syverson senior, the father of the boy who was upstairs with your daughter right now... The man who had beat you for captain of the football team. Twice. The man who had made a pass at your then-girlfriend when you were years into dating her and she was wearing your ring and your jacket with your name on it. Twice. Was it really so weird that you trusted his son about as far as you could throw him?

Soft lips on your neck pulled you away from your thoughts. “Try to remember that I married you?”

You smiled at her before leaning in for a kiss, wrapping her up in a tight embrace. “I’m a lucky man.”

“Ew, gross. Can you, like, not?”

A devilish smile played at your wife’s lips for a moment before she kissed you again a tad too theatrically.

“Oh my god, stop it! You’re old!” The look of disgust on your daughter’s face was absolutely priceless. “This is a kitchen! It’s a communal space!”

“So is the porch, princess,” you replied.

“How many times do I have to tell you two; this door stays open—oh for the love of God! I don’t need to see that!”

“Then by all means, dad, leave the door closed!” You caught the pillow she threw at you, and Mike made a point of moving as far away from her as the bed would allow while mumbling an apology.

Your wife had been right — which you were never telling her, which didn’t even matter because she already knew, anyway — and Mike really wasn’t a bad kid. That didn’t mean you were okay with him feeling up your daughter, though. Or worse.

“We’re not doing that, princess. Nice try though.”

On your way downstairs, you were fairly sure you heard the bedroom door close again and you sighed.

“It’s okay, love,” your wife said as she wrapped her arms around you.

“It’s not,” you sighed. “I wish that boy would keep his filthy paws off our daughter.” Was it genuinely too much to ask for her to find a nice, non-hormonal boy her age who only wanted to sit next to her on the couch and hold her hand under strict parental supervision?

“Yes, August, that’s entirely too much to ask,” your wife snickered. You hadn’t even realized you’d actually voiced your thoughts. “Boys like that don’t exist. I remember you when you were eighteen… We were doing much worse things than they are.”

“But we were in college. Can’t we just… ban him from the house?” You slumped down on the couch and took the cup of coffee your wife was now holding out to you.

“We could,” she said, and for the first time, a smile appeared on your face that she managed to wipe off immediately: “But I’ve seen the inside of that car he drives.”

It had been an interesting phone call, at one o’clock in the morning, from your daughter’s best friend’s mother, asking if her daughter had come home yet.

“How would I know that?” you had snapped at her. Surely, she didn’t expect you to know who was in her house in the middle of the night? It was her house…

“Because she’s staying with you,” the concerned mother had answered.

“Ah,” you answered, grabbing your wife’s shoulder and shaking her until she was awake. “We were under the impression that our daughter was staying with you.”

Your wife had called Mike’s parents, who had also established that their son was not where he was supposed to be.

Long story short: Everyone was in serious trouble.

And now you were on your way to some club, your knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel so hard, and you barely managed to stifle a yawn. In the passenger seat, your wife threatened to drift off to sleep. The only reason you had taken her with you was so you wouldn’t make a gigantic scene — no matter how much that was exactly what you wanted to do.

Syverson and his wife were already there, attempting to convince the bouncer to let them into the club without paying some ridiculous entrance fee, while your daughter’s friend’s parents stood off to the side, looking more and more nervous by the minute.

Your wife walked to the door. “Now you listen to me, pal,” she snapped. “My daughter is in there and if you don’t want me to get everyone here fired and then sue this place to high heavens for letting minors in, then you let us go in there and look for her right now, or so help me God!” She could be impressively scary, you noted as a smile slowly grew on your face.

She paced back to you and scowled at you when you kissed her on the forehead. “What the hell was that for?”

“You’re beautiful when you’re angry,” you said.

Your kids were, indeed, inside. They — your daughter and Mike, at least — were unlucky enough that you were the one to find them. Dancing. If you could call it that — and you quickly decided that you absolutely couldn’t call it that.

The music — again; if you could call it that — was incredibly loud, giving you a headache on top of your already particularly murderous mood, and you held on to your last shred of self-restraint with all your might to make sure you wouldn’t genuinely murder your daughter’s… boyfriend. Even just thinking the word made you want to punch something. Him, preferably.

Mike spotted you first, and you felt an overwhelming sense of pride when his face morphed into an expression of complete and utter terror. He also had the common sense to step away from your daughter immediately, who looked up around at him when she felt Mike suddenly disappear from behind her. He pointed at you, and she turned around again. Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. Good.

With a single finger, you beckoned them both to come over, and when they were standing in front of you, you dragged them both outside.

“What were you thinking?” your wife snapped at your daughter, who looked up at you.

“Daddy, I…” You just shook your head and let your wife handle this.

When she was done — your daughter was now grounded for a month — you turned to Mike: “And your involvement in this was…?”

“They wanted to see the DJ, and I… I told them I could sneak them in. It was stupid and irresponsible—”

“Not to mention illegal.”

“—yes, that too. I’m sorry.” Mike looked down, clearly doing his best not to tremble visibly. He failed. Good.

“How’d you even swing this, James?” Mike’s dad wanted to know, his wife standing behind him, clearly trying very hard to keep her mouth shut to prevent herself from saying something she’d regret.

“It’s Mike,” Mike corrected.

“Not when I’m this goddamn mad at you it isn’t, son.”

“Hello, mrs. Walker,” Mike greeted your wife while handing her a bouquet of flowers. You rolled your eyes, even though you had no reason to. He handed a second bouquet — it was just a handful of daisies — to your daughter. “Thank you for the invitation.”

It wasn’t exactly n invitation you’d been all too excited to extend, but alas. Here he was again. Maybe grounding them hadn’t been such a good idea (even though you’d laughed at Syverson’s idea to have Mike’s punishment start two weeks later than your daughter’s, so that they’d have to go without each other for longer), because now they were just unnecessarily and inappropriately touchy.

“Thank you, Mike, these are lovely,” your wife said as she handed you the flowers. “August, darling, could you put these in a vase, please?”

You were glad to have something to do. “Of course, my angel.”

“Gross,” your daughter said while rolling her eyes, and you glared at her, biting your tongue to keep yourself from making your sarcastic remark.

“Eh,” Mike shrugged, “my parents are worse. I think it’s sweet.”

You watched over the edge of the newspaper while Mike helped your daughter set the table, while your wife continuously glanced at you in her signature ‘I told you so’ kind of way. You had already tentatively agreed with her that he wasn’t a bad kid! What more did she want?

Dinner was unbearable, and your wife had to warn you more than once to stop cutting your food so hard you nearly sawed your way through your plate on more than one occasion, and you gritted your teeth as you tried to focus on your dinner instead of watching the two lovebirds. At least they were trying to keep it decent, which was much appreciated, but it didn’t necessarily make things much easier for you.

“What did you tell her?” you asked your wife — calmly, you hoped — when your daughter slammed the door behind her after an unusually quick escape from the house.

“Not much,” she answered. You knew for a fact she’d been pretty on top of the sex ed stuff for years now. “A reminder that she shouldn’t do things she isn’t ready for. And to use protection.”

“Hmm.” Whether you were finally getting used to the idea of your daughter going out with Michael Syverson, or your wife and her relentless support of their relationship had finally worn you down, you didn’t exactly know.

“August,” she said as she sat down next to you and leaned into your side, “I know you’re trying to protect her, but you can’t stop this. It’ll happen sooner or later. Sooner, rather than—”

“I know,” you growled.

“You were sixteen when—”

“I know.” It hurt to clench your teeth the way you did, but it was all you could do to stop yourself from screaming. “If he hurts her…”

“She takes after you, dear,” your wife chuckled. “He doesn’t stand a chance.”

“He asked you to where now?” Your eyebrows shot up a mile and at least a month’s worth of acceptance disappeared like snow in the desert when your daughter told you the news that Mike had asked her to prom.

“Prom, dad. You kn—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But you don’t have—”

“Senior prom, dad. His prom.”

“You’re a sophomore,” you grumbled, your eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Yes, dad, Mike asked me, a sophomore, to go with him, a senior, to his senior prom, which I wouldn’t be able to go to unless I was invited by a senior. Like him. Can you exit psycho dad-mode for three seconds? Can I please go?” Your wife had been right when she said your daughter took after you in many ways, but damn if she didn’t have her eyes. And you were powerless against those.

“Yes, princess,” you sighed softly. “You can go.”

She wrapped her arms around your neck, and for the first time in months you saw a little more of your princess and a little less of the teenage monstrosity she’d grown into over the past few years. Apart from the horrible shrieking in your ear, that was.

“Can you do me one favor, please?”

“Tell me you’re not asking to approve my dress, or whatever?” Ah, there she was again. The monstrosity.

“Take your mother shopping for it. She’d like that.” And, hopefully, she’d come home with something halfway presentable, at least.

The doorbell rang at seven o’clock on the dot. At least Syverson had bothered to teach his boy some manners. He handed another stunning bouquet to your wife — which might have been more impressive if his mother hadn’t owned the flower shop in town — and nervously fidgeted with the box that held a rather beautiful corsage. No doubt also a courtesy of his mom.

“That’s a very nice tux, Mike,” your wife said with a smile in an attempt to diffuse the ever-growing tension in the hallway while you waited for your daughter to finally finish getting ready.

“Thanks, it’s mine,” he answered. “Dad has a ridiculously big family; I have a million cousins… lots of weddings.”

“Hey.” You all turned to the source of the sound; the voice of your daughter standing at the top of the stairs.

“Holy sh—” Mike cleared his throat — smart move. “Wow. You look… wow.” He rushed towards her to help her down the last few steps of the stairs.

“You look good too,” she said shyly.

“Not next to you, I don’t,” he managed — but barely.

As you watched Mike awkwardly trying to help your daughter with the corsage, memories of your own prom came flooding back to you, and you couldn’t fight a smile off your face. It wasn’t for lack of trying, of course, but the sight of them was simply too… adorable to stay mad about. Next to you, your wife grabbed your hand and squeezed it. She had tears in her eyes, you noticed, when she rushed past you to get the camera.

“Mom. Mom, stop. You took like four thousand pictures already, it’s enough. Enough! Please, let us leave, we’re going to miss the whole thing… Mom! Dad, tell mom she’s being insane!” Finally, you weren’t the one who was considered insane!

“I think that’s plenty, darling,” you said as you pulled your wife back and put a hand on the camera to get her to lower it. “Get out, you two, I only have so much to say around here. Have fun… but not too much fun.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” your wife added.

You rolled your eyes. “Like that narrows it down.”

“Dad!” your daughter shrieked before pulling Mike towards the door.

Your wife had successfully convinced you that going to bed early would be best. You needed a distraction, after all, and if she was so kind to offer to provide you with one, who were you to refuse her?

It was nearly midnight when you woke up with her curled up next to you, to the sound of footsteps on the stairs. A set of footsteps too many, that was.

“August, don’t,” you heard next to you when you attempted to get out of bed to put a stop to these shenanigans immediately. What did she mean ‘don’t’? You were just supposed to let them… “If it weren’t for you, I’d have let him stay over the first time she asked. Going in there, guns blazing, is not going to make this go away. They’ll find another place. Another time. And I meant what I said about the backseat of that car… If you have any faith in the way we raised our daughter, then trust her.”

Falling asleep again was hard, but nowhere near as hard as not throwing Mike down the stairs when you ran into him a few hours later, when he was on his way to the bathroom.

“I’m dead, aren’t I?’

You took a deep, shaky breath to steady yourself before speaking. “We’ll talk about that over breakfast. I can and will promise you right now, that you’ll be in some real trouble if you sneak out before then.”

“Coffee?” you grumbled when your daughter appeared in the kitchen the following morning, freshly showered, with Mike walking a step behind her.

“Yeah. Thanks,” she whispered as she sat down as far away from you as possible. You looked at the two trembling teens in front of you and realized your wife had been right — yet again — when she had said that if you handled this wrong, they’d never come to you if they were in trouble. Ever.

“It’s been brought to my attention that I may have been a bit… overbearing,” you said, ignoring the eyerolls from both your wife and your daughter. Mike just stared at the table. “And I’m sorry.”

You sighed as three jaws dropped in complete and utter bewilderment. “That being said… The two of you still broke the rules, and he stayed here without permission, which means you, young lady, will be grounded for a week,” you said, watching your daughter grab Mike’s arm. She looked hurt… “Starting tomorrow.” The two exchanged a surprised look and finally smiled.

“Does he have to leave?” she asked carefully.

“No, princess,” you said softly, “he doesn’t.”

“Where’s that ruthless jerk I married?” Your wife wrapped her arms around you and pulled you close while you let out a deep sigh.

“He said ‘I do’,” you grumbled. “And he had a daughter.”

“Daddy?” Your daughter’s voice was soft and small. The hurt in it crushed you, although you had to admit you were relieved to have confirmation that Mike was upstairs in your shower all by himself, if you were honest. “Are you mad at me?”

You reached for her, and she hugged you — almost like she used to. “No, princess, I could never be mad at you.”

“I’m still your—”

“I know,” you whispered.

“Are you mad at Mike?” Her voice got even lower than before, and she avoided your eyes.

“No,” you answered truthfully. “Unless he hurt you in any kind of way, in which case he’s a dead man.”

“Did you forget you forced self defense classes on me until I was a black belt?” she laughed, wiping away the single tear that had escaped her eye.

“That’s my girl.” You couldn’t have fought back the grin if you’d tried.

Your daughter wrestled herself out of your embrace and made her way towards the hallway again, turning around in the doorway. “Ehm, does the door still have to stay open?” she asked innocently.

“I think we’re past that point,” your wife answered, ignoring your exasperated sigh.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered as your daughter sprinted up the stairs.

“Does she know you’re here?” It didn’t take you two guesses to figure out why he was at your door. You actually remembered the moment you knocked on the door of your then-hopefully-soon-to-be-in-laws all too well.

“She does,” he answered, thanking you quickly as you impatiently gestured at him to come in. It was cold out, and money didn’t grow on trees…

“Does she know why?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not here to ask for your permission, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he said with a smirk that brought out some residual feelings of wanting to smack him. “I’m actually looking for Mrs. Walker.”

“You’re right not to,” you admitted. “She’d kill you.”

“It’s a bit of a catch-22.” He laughed. “My dad will kill me if I don’t ask, so…”

“So it’s a matter of who you’d rather be murdered by.”

“I think I’ll take my chances with my old man,” he said. “At least he’s not related to you.”

Smart man.

You followed him into the living room, where you found your wife with her nose in the book she hadn’t put down for hours. As soon as Mike walked in, she slammed it shut and put it away.

“Michael, can I help you?” she said in an unusually quirky tone, with an unusually happy smile on her face.

“I think so, yeah,” he stammered. Those nerves were finally kicking in, huh? Good. “I… Eh… She told me something about a ring… eh… her, eh…”

“Her grandmother’s engagement ring?” she helped him along gently.

He nodded furiously. “Yeah. She said that, eh… When the time came, she’d eh… She’d like to wear it. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

“God, Mike, I think I’ve never seen you more scared of me than of August,” she laughed, and you gladly joined her, leaving the poor boy standing there with bright red ears and an uneasy smile.

“First time for everything, right?”

Over the years, you’d been subjected to many a feminist lecture on outdated patriarchal values and whatnot, so it had come as quite the surprise to you when your daughter had come to you, asking you if you’d walk her down the aisle. Now that you were standing here, with her to your left, squeezing your arm so tight you feared it would result in lasting damage, you wished you’d declined, so that you’d just have been able to sit quietly next to your wife, instead of being here with no prayer of getting a handle on your own nerves.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice taunting but with an obvious shakiness to it.

“You’re one to talk, princess,” you retorted, “I can barely feel my fingers.”

She relaxed her grip on your arm a bit, chuckling softly. “Will you behave?”

“Me? Always.”

As far as you were concerned, the walk could have lasted forever. You knew it had to end, and it did — way too soon — and all that was left for you to do was…

“I love you, daddy,” she whispered before you managed to move.

“And I love you, princess,” you replied softly. “Always.”

Then, you finally placed her hand in Mike’s. “She’s your problem now, son. And I have a very strict no-return-policy.”

#august walker fanfic #mike hellraiser #august walker #mike hellraiser fanfiction #august walker fanfiction #august walker fluff

66 notes · View notes

itsnotzka · 3 months

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Lost Scenes Thursday! Get to know your favourite authors better. Show five scenes from either abandoned fics where you regret they will never see the light of day, or five scenes from WIPs where you are impatient to see them out there. Long, short, one-liner... it's all good reading. Tag five other authors where you are curious.

Sounds like fun :) I'm going to share only one though, as I don't want it to take me five years to answer this (choosing and editing is not my forte, can't you tell?🤭)

This is from a story called 'This Town is Plotting Against Me', originally written in Polish. It's inspired by one of my fics but has already accidentally turned into a different story 🤭 I'm not entirely sure if I'll ever publish it anywhere or be able to finish it, so here it is (quickly, quickly! before I change my mind 😅). It's a translated excerpt, I left the names unchanged :)

. . ....... . .

"Well, let me guess," Aleksander carefully placed the last book back in its rightful spot, straightening the peeling catalogue number on its spine. "The house collapsed while some local kids were ransacking it for fun. Five deaths at the scene, one person still missing."

Ms. Renata Kubasinska, a short, middle-aged librarian, shot him a disapproving look, her blue eyes flashing with irritation. "As if! You and your catastrophic imagination!" She frowned at the ceiling. “Even you would’ve heard about that, no matter how much of a recluse you are, don’t you think?"

"Alright, fair enough… We're not talking about me here. What about this house?" He smiled, steering the conversation back on track, wary that Ms. Kubasinska might start lecturing him about his solitary habits once again.

"Nothing about the house itself..." she muttered, irked. "But seems some woman’s moved in. Saw her car. It’s from Warsaw," she added in a hushed tone.

“So? Is there something wrong with her? Other than being a newcomer from a big city?” Aleksander feigned indifference as he pondered over another unexpected stain on a familiar book.

"Oh, you know..." She glanced at him sideways as he leaned against the bookshelf, staring out the window. "It’s just odd! Folks wonder what she’s up to there. Alone, can you imagine! In that creepy old house? It's a bit dodgy, innit?"

“Not really. Maybe she's a horror fan—there are plenty of those these days,” he laughed quietly, a bit taken aback. “Besides, Ms. Renata, you live alone too. And you know I wholeheartedly recommend that lifestyle.”

"I don't live alone, I've got my cats…" Renata huffed, disappointed by the young librarian’s lack of interest in her juiciest gossip. And she loved her gossip.

At that moment, the bell at the library reception desk rang, interrupting their conversation. Both Aleksander and Ms. Kubasinska turned towards the sound with a shared reluctance, each prepared to curse the world and anyone who dared to interrupt them, albeit for vastly different reasons.

“Will I ever be able to finish talking?!” the woman huffed.

“That bloody thing, I swear to–” Aleksander muttered simultaneously.

“Oh, no! Don’t you even try anything funny again!” she wagged her finger at him.

Before he could respond, the high-pitched, unbearably irritating 'ding-ding!' sound of the bell assaulted his ears once more, almost like a shock wave of an atomic bomb. He resolved then and there to rid himself of this nuisance once and for all, though it wouldn't be his first attempt. Oh, no. No matter where he hid the bell, Ms. Kubasinska always managed to find it. She might be clueless with computers or smartphones, any kind of technology was evil incarnate to her, but she possessed an uncanny knack for locating hidden desk bells.

“Go see who it is, love, eh?” Ms. Renata winked mischievously. “I’ll go make us a cuppa.”

“But Ms. Ren– oh, bugger…” the young librarian cursed inwardly at his own delay, because before he could protest, his coworker had already darted behind the office door.

With a sigh, he cautiously approached the reception desk, peering out from behind the bookshelf to assess the visitor and anticipate how much energy this innocent conversation would drain from him. He hoped the matter would be resolved swiftly and without hassle. That seemed unlikely, though, considering he didn’t recognise the person.

The young woman, appearing slightly impatient, swayed on her feet, then tapped one nervously. Just as she leaned forward to ring the bell a third time, Aleksander preempted her. Swiftly lunging forward, he deftly retrieved the metal, round bell and, with an air of nonchalance, stowed it in the third drawer of his desk, right beside the stapler and calculator. Not a perfect hiding spot, but good enough.

"That's better..." He sighed in relief, knowing the vexing device was tucked away, at least for the moment. Then, he finally turned his attention to the visitor. "Now. Welcome to Mystki’s library. How may I assist you?

#ask #my writing

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euphoricdreamsidreamabout · 2 years

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In the dark

Warnings:Fluff,curse words, mentions of death(very small)

Pairings: Peter Parker X fem!reader

Summary: You just wanted a sandwich, but the night took a complete turn and you ended up being stuck in the dark with a certain stranger.

—

Peter heard the thump followed by him throwing his bag on the concrete floor. He got out of his suit and wore the change of clothes he had in the bag. Pulling down his hoodie he felt his stomach grumble. Gosh he was hungry.

He walked through the streets of the city. The moon shined over the buildings. He could hear the distant city life buzzing, away from this part of Queens.

Peter was always fond of quiet walks but sometimes he dreamt of having these walks with another person. Though those wouldn't be quiet since he'll obviously bore them with his random facts but he didn't care.

He reached one of his favourite places in queens: Delmar's.

The bell rung as he walked in,"Hey Mr Delmar, how are you? And i can't forget you, murph" he said scratching behind the cat's ears.

"Oh just the same kid. Want the regular? "

"Yeah and can you press th-"

"The pickles really flat. I know"Delmar teased.

Peter smiled embarrassingly and started looking around.

Y/N POV:

I looked through the menu again for the nth time. This is hard.

"Look kid you gotta choose something, I got other people to attend to. " The man behind the counter said.

"I know I'm sorry everything seems so good. It's hard to decide, Mr delmar" You said as you read his name tag.

You heard the bell ring as you looked at the menu again. "Hey Mr Delmar, how are you? And i can't forget you, murph" You heard a boy say. You glanced at him and saw him pet the owners cat. The cat purred bringing a smile on your face.The brown curly haired boy started talking with Mr Delmar again. He looked about your age and was pretty cute.

“So you done selecting yet?” Delmar said looking annoyed.

“Uh yeah just a minute.”You said embarrassed.

Peter POV:

I looked around the place, watching the people go by on the street through the window, looking at the other closed shops , looked at the beauty in front of me. Woah she’s beautiful. Ok she’s the one I’m gonna have my quiet not quiet walks with. I can already see it.

The girl looked at me and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry , I know I’m taking a long time, I just can’t decide what to pick.”

“Oh number five’s pretty good.” I suggested not knowing where the confidence came from.

“Ok well can I get a number five Mr Delmar, recommended by this kind stranger”She said and looked at me smiling.

I chuckled embarrassingly “And I-“ I was cut off by a weird beeping noise and soon the lights went out.

“Oh señor, the generators turning old. You kids be alright eh? I’ll be back in five.”Mr Delmar sighed.

Peter waited patiently for a minute before he heard you sigh.

“Uh hey stranger , do you have your phone on you, mine’s battery just ran out?.”

“Uh nope, i mean im sorry no I don’t have a phone. Left it back at home”I stammered.

“Ok guess we are stuck in the dark.”

“Hey do you guys see a red dot . There’s a lever under it you just have to flick that till I’m fixing this guy over here”Mr Delmar yelled from the back.

“Do you see a red light?”I asked.

“No but I do see a weird thing in the corner, it’s staring at me , it’s creeping me out”the girl said. I tried to look closely and concentrated on her features.

“Ok all we have to do, is stick together. I mean going through a small shop in the dark can’t be that bad right?”I nervously chuckled.

“Your making it sound bad, stranger.”

“Ok where are you?”I asked and put my hands forward.

“In front of you.”

Something brushed my shoulder.”You’re mixing your prepositions you’re beside me.”

“No I’m right here”A small hand wrapped around my outstretched arms.”See?”

“Then what touched me?”

“It’s that thing from the corner , it’s stalking us”she whined.

“We should start moving , if we wanna survive.”I said and started moving forward with her.

“I mean I don’t mind dieing among packets of potato chips.” she said.

“This is serious, can I know your name by the way?” I asked and took the situationship between us to a next level.

“Oh so that’s serious” she replied sarcastically. “It’s Y/-Aaaah. Something touched me! Something touched me!”she screamed and backed into me.

“What? What?What touched you?” “Something”

“Well there’s nothing there.”I freaked out.

“I’m telling you someone or something is following us.”

“You wait here, I’ll go see what touched you” I said bravely.

“You can’t leave me alone! You’re the one who told us to stick together.”she reasoned.

“That’s a good point, but I’m only going two steps in front of you.”

“Ok but please be safe”She said concerned.

Her worrying about me made my heart flutter. She sounded pretty cute when she’s scared. Is that weird? That’s probably weird.But what can I say I love her voice.

By now my eyes had adjusted to the dark but I still couldn’t make out the objects.I stretched my hands again and started walking slowly back to the place where she freaked out.

“I still didn’t get your name.” I said trying to calm her down.

“Name after, first what touched me!”

“Right,Right I’m checking”I said in defence.

Ok Peter calm down, why aren’t your Peter tingles working, they should be working, this is their purpose. During all my rambling I didn’t realise I walked into something. I felt all around it and chuckled.

“The thing that touched you was a pile of boxes.” I said amused.

“Are you fucking kidding me I freaked out because of a bunch of a boxes.I wanna fucking get out of here.Ok Y/N calm down 1….2…3”

“Your name’s Y/N, that’s a pretty name.”

Y/N POV:

I felt myself blush at that. I walked back to him and held his hand.

“Ok , you’re tall can you see a red light.?”I asked.

“I’m not taller than the aisles.”

“Well maybe we should walk alongside them, we won’t get lost then.” “That’s a good point.C’mon” he said.

We both walked alongside the aisles in a pattern , front , left, front, right. I have a feeling we are going to get nowhere at this pace. I tugged the strangers sleeves and whispered “Maybe we should walk alongside the walls.”

“You’re seriously telling me this right now.” ”Well you could’ve also come up with that idea, but I did, so give me some credit dude”I argued.

“Ok, I’m sorry, I’m just kind of frustrated and wanna get out of here.”

“It’s ok, I’m the same.”

During this whole ordeal I forgot how close I was to him, I could hear his breath, I could feel my heart hammering and felt my stomach grumble. Shit, I want that number five so badly.

“You should seriously get your Sandwich after this.”

“How did you know I was hungry?”

“I heard your stomach grumble Y/N.” he chuckled.

I slapped his chest lightly at that.

“Who knew flicking a lever was gonna be this hard?” I mumbled.

“Well at least we’re together and not alo-“Wait did you hear that?” You cut him off.

“I thought that was your stomach”

“No that was a growl, a very clear growl matter of factly”

“Oh fuck.”he said.

“Yeah oh fuck is right.” I said.

“To calm you down or to scare you, I got two news, good news and bad news. Which one first?”

“Uh bad news, I guess”

“I saw something move.”

“Shut up stranger please.” I whined, scared out of my fucking mind.“What’s the good news?”

“I see the red light.” He said.

“ Wait really!” I gasped. “Then why aren’t we moving?”I asked excitedly.

There was no response from him.

“Stranger?”

“Uh nothing let’s go.”

We both jogged towards it and even though I saw something move in my peripheral view, I kept going.

Finally we reached the wall and flicked the lever.The light turned green.

“Well?, why aren’t the lights turning on?”I asked nervously. I do not want to stay in this fucking place anymore.

“I have no idea.”

“Please, don’t tell me we have to go fix the generator now” I whined and slid down the wall. I pulled my knees towards my face and tried to breathe deeply.

“We spent so long here and I keep seeing things and hearing things”I rambled.

“Uh Y/N?”

“Yes stranger?” I asked frustrated.

“The lights are on” he chuckled.

I looked up so fast I was scared that I was gonna get a whiplash. Wait the light are on. The lights are on.I jumped to my feet and hugged the boy tightly.

“I can’t believe we did it and we are alive! Ok maybe that’s too dramatic but that was scary.”I said with my arms around his neck and his around my waist.

“I’m Peter by the way, Peter Parker.”

“Oh I like stranger more, just kidding.I’m gonna call you Parker from now on”I teased him and chuckled.

I looked around the the store and saw how small it actually was.

“Wait it’s only been 20 minutes! That felt like hours” I heard Peter say.

—

After getting our sandwiches and welcoming Delmar we both walked out of the store.

“Hey can I get your number?” Peter asked.

“My phone doesn’t work and you don’t have it, do you have a pen?” I asked.

“I forgot about that”he said after giving me a pen.

“Here, text me.” I smiled at him

“Cool, is your house nearby?”

“It’s just a bit far.”

“Ok then I’ll walk with you.”Peter said smiling at you.

You chuckled and walked for a few minutes.

“Wait what was that thing that was moving?” Peter asked after a beat of silence.

“Well it could have been a ghost, but logically I think it was Murph.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #imagine

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somethingclevermahogony · 5 months

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Friday Kiss Tag (Not Friday, oops)

Sorry its not Friday, time flies. Thank you for the tag, @mk-writes-stuff !

Rules: Post a scene with a kiss.

Here is the introduction to 2/3 of my pirate polycule.

Narul nodded. But he was too distracted to actually enjoy the view, rather he couldn’t stop thinking about Otilia and Ninma, and whether he would ever actually see them again. He glanced over at Suru, who was leaned over the side, whether gawking at some sort of sea life or emptying his guts, Narul could not tell. Penetinos sat scribbling on his wax writing pad, about what Narul had no idea, after all they had only just left. Narul was pulled out of his thoughts by Istek who gave his arm an appreciative squeeze. “You’re a big lad, aren’t you?” Narul didn’t know how to respond. “What?” “Oh don’t be shy, lad! You’re a great big bull of a man! Be proud of it. I was born a scrawny little shit and I’ll likely die a scrawny little shit! The beard helps to hide it though.” Istek bellowed as he stroked his admittedly impressive whiskers. All the while he continued to squeeze and inspect Narul’s gargantuan bicep. “Thank you? You said you’ve met another spiritblood before?” Narul asked curiously, not sure whether to scoot away a bit. “ Oh yeah! It was about oh twenty three years ago, big brawny fella, Pyritian, I would guess he was from somewhere around Namut abouts, bout your size, maybe a bit smaller. Didn’t talk much and when he did it was mostly nonsense. Not a big fan of his. He paid me to ferry him from Korithia to Shabala. Bastard got in a fight with my first mate, threw him overboard and broke my rudder. If he wasn’t one of you lot I would have had him thrown off the side but I value my head. I let him off on the beach. He didn't give so much as a thanks, just stormed off into the forest. Never saw him again. I hope that you’re not such an ass, eh?” Narul shook his head and lifted his hands innocently. “Never.” “Well good! Where we’re going is going to be a big enough pain as it is!” Istek chuckled. “So this demigod, what was his name?” Istek scratched his cheek thoughtfully. “Mab? No Maba, something like that I think. I’ve heard of other demigods around the Green Sea too, mostly nonsense I imagine, sept for maybe one. Warrior queen in the forests north of Makora, she’s a monster they say.” Narul nodded thoughtfully. Istek chuckled, and gave his arm another experimental squeeze. “Gods, these are massive! Your hands too and just imagine~” From across the deck one of the sailors called out. “Oi, Istek, get your hands off of that man, you old deviant. I swear someone should beat some sense into you.” Istek shot to his feet, bristling. “Don’t talk to your captain like that!” “What if I do?” Narul watched as the two rough old sailors approached each other. Istek was at least a head shorter than the other man but broader at the shoulder. Narul tensed. The rest of the crew seemed oddly apathetic to all of this. Istek and the sailor who had dared to speak against him, glared at each other for a moment and Narul was concerned that he may have to step in, but then as he rose apprehensively to his feet, Istek stood up on his toes and pressed his lips to the sailor’s. The two stood like that for a moment, the sailor cupping the shorter man’s bearded cheek. When at last the two separated, Istek turned and laughed at Narul’s confused but relieved expression. “Narul, I would like you to meet my first mate, Dati.”

Tagging @illarian-rambling , @dyrewrites , @elsie-writes , @kaylinalexanderbooks , and whoever!

#testamentsofthegreensea #fantasy writing #writeblr #queer fantasy #narul #writing

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hyperfixatedonstuff · 1 year

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Short Fic about Trans Fem Scout for @jaymi-and-their-shit

also on my AO3 -> Call your mother!! (1098 words) by hyperfixated_on_dumb_shit Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Scout & Spy (Team Fortress 2), Scout & Scout's Mother (Team Fortress 2) Characters: Scout (Team Fortress 2), Scout's Mother (Team Fortress 2), Spy (Team Fortress 2) Additional Tags: Trans Female Character, Trans Scout (Team Fortress 2), Trans Female Scout (Team Fortress 2), scout's name is Jamie Summary: Scout comes out to her mom with the help of Spy

Scout was nervous, her pacing around the phones revealed that. Today was Sunday, the weekly ceasefire and also the day she always called her Ma. Well, not always. Lately she had been neglecting calling home because she was terrified to talk to her mother. A few months ago she came out to her team as trans, it was a little scary but due to how open they were about being queer or accepting those who were she had managed it. But now she had an entirely new challenge, coming out to her mother. Her mother always said she would love her no matter what. But what if this was the exception? What if she got mad? Or was disappointed?

“Scout!” She nearly jumped out of her skin when a gloved hand materialized out of thin air and landed on her shoulder.

“What are you pacing about for? It’s distracting to those of us trying to use the phone.” Spy had removed his hand from her shoulder and crossed his arms to relay annoyance.

“N-nothing! I’ll get outta your way or whatever.” Scout begins to away from the phones but before she can even get a few steps in Spy sighs and speaks up.

“This is about your mother, isn’t it?” Her shoulders go stiff and she turns back, expecting to see a smug grin. Instead she sees Spy leaning against the wall with a cigarette, brows furrowed and staring at the ground.

“…How did you know?” Spy lets out a little chuckle but quickly explains himself when Scout glares at him.

“It’s my job to know things. You have obviously been stressed. It wasn’t a hard conclusion to reach.” At first she scrunches up her face in anger but then she sighs and takes a place against the wall next to him. After a few moments, she sinks to the floor and pulls her knees to her chest.

“You haven’t told her yet.”

“No.” Spy tries to speak again but is interrupted by Scout’s voiced overthinking. “What if she gets mad? And yells at me? And never lets me go home? What if my brothers make fun of me? Or if Ma ain’t angry but sad?”

“Scout.”

“What if she don’t want me as her kid anymore?”

“Scout!”

“I don’t know what I’ll do. I just shouldn’t tell her. She don’t need to deal with all of that. O’ course I’ll have to tell the guys not to-”

“Jamie!” Spy’s shouting finally reaches her ears and she looks up, slightly teary eyed.

“Your mother loves you. That won’t change no matter what you tell her.” There’s another pause before Spy kneels down and awkwardly pats her shoulder.

“But… how do you know?” She sniffles a bit and Spy sighs while drawing a handkerchief from his pocket.

“It’s my job to know things. And I know your mother is a good woman.” Jamie stares at him for a minute, despite the fact that Spy was an asshole, he was still convincing when he wanted to be. She sniffled again and he handed her the handkerchief. Spy watched as his expensive silk pocket square was coated in snot and tears, he grimaced in an exaggerated manner.

“I want that back by Monday. Cleaned.” She laughed as he stood up.

“Yeah, yeah, you got it old man.” Spy rolled his eyes and helped his daughter to her feet. He patted her shoulder one last time and turned to head back inside.

“Eh- thank you Spy.” He simply nodded before disappearing into a cloud of smoke.

Jamie sighed. She knew that Spy was right, as much as she hated even thinking that. She had to call her mother. So she dusted herself off, wiped the last of her tears away, and stuffed the handkerchief into her pocket.

She had called home every Sunday for years until the last few weeks. It was clear from the faded numbers that her mother’s number had been dialed most. Muscle memory moved her fingers over the buttons quickly as she fiddled with the cord with her free hand. She traced circles in the dirt with her foot while the phone rang.

‘ringggggg… ringggggg… ringggggg…rin-’

“Hello? Jeremy is that you? Where have you been? You haven’t called in three weeks!” Jamie instantly regrets her decision and nearly hangs up.

“Uh- yeah it’s me… l-look Ma I’m real sorry I haven’t called- but there’s something important I’ve been meaning to tell you!” The words came out of her mouth at an inhuman speed and she aggressively tapped her foot while waiting.

“Well? What is it? What’s so important you can’t call your mother!” Jamie swallows and takes a deep breath. This is it. The moment she’s been dreading for weeks.

“Ma… I’m transgender. Iknowitshardtohearbutitswhoiamandimnotgonnahideitanylongerivealwaysbeenagirlandijustneedtogetitoffmychest!” There’s a pause. Dread seeps into Jamie’s gut. Did she make a mistake? Did she just ruin her own life?

“So you’re a girl?” Scout lets out a breath she had been holding. She couldn’t read her mother’s tone very well but… she wasn’t yelling.

“Yes…is that okay?” Jamie asks meekly.

“Okay? Are you kidding me?” Here it comes. She thought, closing her eyes and getting ready to be chewed out. But instead of yelling or sobbing or anything of the sort, a laugh came through the phone. Not an angry laugh or a bitter one, but a genuinely happy laugh.

“I’ve always wanted a daughter! I mean- I never told you or your brothers that because I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t proud of you because I am! But it has been such a pain not having another woman around the house!” Jamie slowly opened her eyes, she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“You mean… you ain’t mad?” Again, more laughter plays through the phone.

“Why would I be mad? I thought you were gonna say you were in trouble or dying! You finding yourself is the least of my concerns!” There’s more laughter but this time half of it is Jamie’s.

“I’m so glad! I was so worried to tell ya’ that I hadn’t been callin’!”

“Well not so fast, you ain’t off the hook for not callin’ your own mother for 3 weeks! But before I chew you out for that. Do you have a new name yet? Oh- and who else have you told? D your brothers know? Your teammates? What about that doctor of yours? Has anyone given you trouble for it? You just tell me and I’ll deal with it!” Jamie smiled as her mother rambled on, things were back to normal again.

#tf2 #tf2 scout #tf2 fic #trans scout #trans fem scout

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quibbs126 · 2 years

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So I talked about making a Theobromine Cookie a bit back, and I decided “eh why not” and just drew him out

For those without context, I mentioned him in my “things about Dark Cacao that point to him having weird origins” post, specifically in the tags, saying that I sort of went into a spiral that led me to make that post

So my first gut instinct with making Theobromine, at least after reading a bit about it, was to make him a chill guy who also doesn’t entirely understand what’s going on, or at least he seems that way, but in reality he’s even stronger than Dark Cacao without really trying and is far more competent than he seems. He just doesn’t really care most of the time. Sort of like what I’ve seen of Ao Lie in Monkie Kid (I haven’t watched Season 4 yet, but I have seen clips with him)

Eventually that sort of devolved into making him a more serious character, but I decided to keep part of that, specifically the more idiot part, and change it to him being an amnesiac, meaning that he can be a chill dude, despite the fact that he wasn’t originally and was more of a badass

I realize I haven’t actually explained much about Theobromine, other than original ideas for him. So basically, Theobromine here is actually the father of Dark Cacao, hence Dark Cacao’s shocked reaction to him in one of the pictures. However, due to him having amnesia, Theobromine doesn’t know that, and while Dark Cacao does, he wants to wait a bit before telling him, since telling this guy he’s the father of the current ruler of this kingdom that also looks older than him is gonna be a bit too much for him to handle. He’s planning on waiting until Theobromine has a better grasp on himself and the world around him before telling him of the past.

Also he’s a Super Epic, like I stated in those tags. Just thought I’d put that in now

As for what happened to him and how he’s still alive, so Theobromine isn’t immortal (at least not anymore), thousands of years ago, when Dark Cacao was still young (but only like a little bit before he met the other Ancients), Theobromine was subjected to some curse that caused him to go into a magically induced coma, and/or be sealed in a block of ice? I dunno, I haven’t worked out a lot of the details with him. But anyways, Dark Cacao didn’t know how to reverse it, and thought the curse was unbreakable, so he ended up leaving him to rest, assuming that he’d eventually crumble of old age in his sleep. In current day, someone (I think some Watchers) ended up finding where he was, and due to some mishap, he ended up actually awakening from his slumber, and so they took him back to the Citadel to recover. Dark Cacao is informed and meets the stranger, only to be shocked with who it is, though he’s vague about what their connection is. Eventually Dark Cacao realizes that Theobromine has amnesia and decides it’d be best to just let him try and figure out himself on his own, before overwhelming him with his past, though he is tempted to just tell him

So I’m sure you noticed the white hair one, and probably also the fact I said he isn’t immortal anymore. Well I thought with his name basically meaning “food of the gods” (which made more sense for a cookie the more I thought about it), as well as me pointing out the things about Dark Cacao that are a bit odd, and the fact that I was going to make him a Super Epic, I thought, “hey why not have him be like a supernatural Cookie?” So I’ll be honest, I don’t have all the details down, but basically Theobromine’s where Dark Cacao gets the slit eyes and abnormal strength, because Theobromine used to be a Legendary Cookie, or something equating to that. I haven’t exactly figured out what he was, just that he had immense power and is where Dark Cacao gets his abnormalities. But I know his hair used to be white back then. And it glowed. But eventually, he did something that angered other higher beings (I just refer to them in my head as “the gods” bc of the name, but I’m not sure whether they’re other Legendaries or witches or other humans or something), and as punishment, he was stripped of his power and forced to live as a normal Cookie, with one of the things being his hair turning black. He still retained some of his power, so he didn’t really listen at first, but he eventually went through a character arc that made him recognize his mortality and come to appreciate the mortal life. Which I realized after making that originally is just he plot of the first Thor movie, but whatever. And later on, he eventually had his own mortal child, Dark Cacao, who inherited streaks of his original white hair, as well as some of his abilities

I said he kept some of his abilities, and he learned to tap into some of his original power, with his hair turning white like it used to, but he can only use it for a certain amount of time, as it puts massive strain on his body the longer he uses it. In current times, he isn’t aware he has those powers, though as shown his hair does occasionally flash white when he’s surprised, though nobody really knows why

Okay, if it isn’t clear, I have not fleshed out a lot of the ideas here, they’re just here. I haven’t really had the time to flesh him out, nor am I even sure I’m gonna stick with him

So as for his design, I’m aware it’s pretty basic, but that was how I originally envisioned him, so I just kept it for his amnesiac state. I gave him silver eyes because theobromine is apparently a white powder, so it was to incorporate that. Originally I was also going to make his hair have more white streaks, but then I made it so his hair was originally white to keep with that. Also you may notice in the lower corner another picture of him, that was just me trying to figure out what his past design looked like. I wanted to give him Dark Cacao’s beta shoulder pads as a reference to him, but I’m not sure I like it.

Oh yeah, another thing I forgot to mention, he’s not supposed to be that skinny. In reality he’s like the same size as Dark Cacao, maybe even slightly taller than him. I just don’t think I got that across

So I’m not sure if I’m keeping him, since he kind of directly contradicts Ruby Cacao. Ruby Cacao was made with the basis that Dark Cacao didn’t know the dragons and that he grew up in poverty. Also she was made with the idea that they don’t have parents. Having Theobromine and them living with him contradicts that, and it greatly diminishes her importance in his life, and could even mean that she never died in the first place, since I doubt Theobromine would let that happen to his kid. Plus, I feel like giving Dark Cacao a dad and a sister is overdoing it, one or the other is fine but not both. And I like Ruby Cacao, so I’m just not sure what to do. He was just a “what if” character that now I’ve grown attached to

But yeah, that’s Theobromine. Hope you like him, or what little I have of him

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run oc #theobromine cookie #dark cacao cookie #my ocs #my art #I’m also debating an au where Theobromine doesn’t go comatose and meets the other Ancients #and he basically becomes their babysitter bc they’re his son’s friends #like he goes on adventures with them but ends up having to be the voice of reason and adult #also I’m not sure what his and Dark Cacao’s relationship was like #since I don’t imagine Dark Cacao to have had a good life before meeting the Ancients #but I’m not sure I want to make Theobromine a bad dad #I mean maybe conflict arises between the two since Theo was baked essentially a god and DC was baked mortal #and Theo just doesn’t understand what that difference entails

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heckyeahponyscans · 10 months

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In my search for info about the Oldsmobile ad campaign, I came across this blog post:

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The story of “not your father’s Oldsmobile.” Or how some really bad advertising changed the culture forever!

October 14, 2008

Time for a story boys and girls. It’s a tale that requires we go back 20 years, before copywriters had Macs, before email, before I lost my hair. This story harkens back to a day when Oldsmobiles roamed the earth. And their commercials filled the airwaves. I should know; I made some of them. Including the campaign that served as Olds’ final and famous (infamous?) death gasp: “Not Your Father’s Oldsmobile.”

Dad’s was better.

The line has become a pop culture catch phrase, in the same ilk –albeit attached to worse advertising-as “Got Milk?” Both slogans have been co-opted literally hundreds of times, far outlasting their original intent. Try reading your morning paper and not finding a variation on either line. For example, about a candidate: “This is not your father’s Democrat.” About a technological innovation: “This is not your mother’s sewing machine.” And so on. Sadly enough, more Americans are familiar with the Olds’ slogan than of Shakespeare’s finest sonnets. Way more.

A soft-spoken creative director by the name of Joel Machak wrote that famous line. I actually came up with the campaign’s tag: “The New Generation of Olds.” Both pieces were intended as lyrics. That’s right, a jingle! As a matter of fact, I was brought in to help Joel come up with the refrain. The piece went together as follows (sing along):

This is not your father’s Oldsmobile…This is the new generation of Olds.

Pretty spiffy, eh? The word “generation” was key. If you recall, each commercial featured a celebrity and one of his or her offspring. This is why the campaign is so damn silly. Outside of a morbid fascination with ogling Ringo Starr’s purple-haired daughter or Dave Brubeck’s motley looking brothers, placing the kin of “B” and “C” celebrities on camera was pure folly. Though I will concede we anticipated Reality TV by 10 years! If you do nothing else today, go to the above link. Trust me.

Where’s my Cutlass Supreme?

The very first spot was for the “totally redesigned Cutlass Supreme.” The protagonist for this commercial was none other than William Shatner, appearing as; you guessed it, Captain Kirk! Riding shotgun was his lovely college-aged daughter, Melanie Shatner. A middling actress, she was pretty darn cute. She also was well endowed. And this became problematic given her wardrobe and where we were shooting. It gets damn cold in the Palm Desert at night. The diaphanous gown provided Melanie was meant to be futuristic a la Star Trek, but it did nothing to warm her up. Subsequently, her nipples went completely rigid, sticking up like Spock’s ears.

beam me up, Scotty!

While this may sound lurid and comical now, at the time (3 AM) it was a “situation.” Imagine the middle-aged suit from GM, replete in a satin Oldsmobile Racing Team jacket, making his way over to the director. “Excuse me, but we can see her nipples!” Given we’d already shot scenes of Melanie in the gown, a wardrobe change was not possible. The solution? Duct tape. And thus her cleavage had a silver lining.

The other moment I’ll never forget was a captured piece of dialogue (unscripted) between William and his daughter. Between takes, they were side by side in the white Cutlass. Unbeknown to either, the mic was still on. Listening to Captain Kirk school his daughter about the virtues of pep and sleeping pills as a key to nighttime shooting was priceless. What a Dad. What a cad. In a way, it preceded his Emmy-winning turn as Danny Crane by some 20 years.

I know this is trifling gossip, and long past its vintage. But like everyone else, I’m beaten down from our grim economy and an evermore-depressing election. Not to mention the woes of Chicago’s sports franchises… When I was new I used to love listening to the old-timers tell bawdy stories from their shoots. Now that I have a few under my belt, I figured we could all use a respite.

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As a post-script: in 2021 the writer returned to his blog after fifteen years away. He explained that he had dropped out of the advertising biz and become a substance abuse counselor. He began work just as Covid broke out. Wow! I find that inspiring! He also has a Youtube channel devoted to his aquarium hobby, check it out here!

#Oldsmobile #advertising #William Shatner #I love little stories like this

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empenguin · 2 years

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How You Met The 141

This is literally just word vomit and when I went to type it up (b/c I originally wrote it in an old notebook) I changed shit idk. its kinda Ghost x reader so that's how I tagged it but eh. for your consideration.

Warning: its probably really cringey and i can’t proofread for shit

You had been too absorbed on your walk home after taking care of a few things at the office that you hadn't felt your phone buzz in your pocket, had you felt it, you would have seen a text from your housemate Kyle that he was back from work and a few of his coworkers were at the house as well.

Pizza, yes, pizza sounded good. But to have it delivered or to make it from scratch. Scratch would take longer but it always seemed to taste better, scratch it was. As you rounded the last corner you were surprised to see Kyle's car in the driveway. It brought a small smile as you pulled out your keys to open the door. Over the years that you had shared a house the two of you had grown close, you had considered a relationship beyond just friends but you both realized that you were better off in a purely platonic relationship.

Pushing open the door you froze as you looked inside, there were three men in your living room. On the couch sat a man with a mohawk and a man whose head was covered in a black mask, that once he turned to look at you, you saw had a skull sewn onto it. In your favorite chair sat a man who you vaguely recognized but couldn't place a name to the face, but you were almost sure that Kyle had shown you a picture of the two of them before.

The man with a mohawk smiled and waved, introducing himself

“Hello, you must be Gaz’s housemate, I’m Soap”

You reached into your pocket, grabbing your phone, and reading the text from Kyle quickly as you responded.

“Um, Hi”

You introduced yourself to them and they did in return, the man that you recognized was Captain John Price, and the man with the skull mask introduced himself as Ghost and when you met his eyes there was something that made you want to look into them forever. After an embarrassing amount of time spent just looking into the man's eyes, you excused yourself and practically ran up to your room. After a few minutes of sitting on the bed and staring at the wall, you decided that you would change into something more comfortable, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and an old hoodie, just pulling it over your head as you heard the knock at your door.

“Who is it?”

You doubted that any of the men from downstairs would be knocking on your door but it couldn't hurt to be sure

“Your favorite housemate”

Letting out a small huff, you opened the door to see Kyle, stepping aside so that he could come in. he took a seat at your desk, spinning in the chair to face you as you plopped onto the bed.

“Sorry about the short notice, we have another mission soon so it didn't make sense for everyone to go home fully”

“S’ fine, Ky really, I mean it is YOUR house”

“Still. Anyway, how’ve you been, go on any dates? Met any cute guys?’

“I think you know the answer to that question, but not that you asked or anything but Sarah visited a few times, gave me her number to pass along, and we’ve gotten dinner as well. Not that you asked, I'm just sharing this information, you know as any good friend would”

“I'll take it, but c’mon you can’t stay single forever, you'll work yourself to death”

At this, you let out a subdued snort

“Dude, if one of us is gonna die because of our job, I doubt it’s gonna be me”

He reaches out and gives a light smack on your ankle but you can see the hint of a grin on his face

“You know what I meant. I hear that you and Ghost had a little moment, wanna discuss?”

Now it's your turn to smack him

“I’d hardly call it a moment, i just- he’s got nice eyes”

Kyle lets out a loud laugh

“Are you serious? That's what you're going with? Oh god”

You push yourself off the bed and move to the door

“If your only going to make fun of me then you can leave and I won't make enough pizza for you I will make enough for only myself and leave the four of you to fend for yourselves”

He rises quickly with his hands up as if he was approaching a scared dog

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, there's no need to go that far”

It was no secret between the two of you that Kyle Loved your pizza, when he was home you would occasionally have pizza nights when you would spend hours just talking as you prepared the dough and each assembled your pizzas, and though the recipe was clearly labeled in the recipe box in the kitchen he always insisted that you make the dough, and it tasted better when you made it, deep down you were sure that it was purely because he didn't want to get covered in flour but after a few times the two of you fell into a comfortable routine, you would make the dough and he would help prepare the toppings, all the while you two talked about anything under the sun.

You rolled your eyes at him and didn't respond, making your way downstairs with him following closely after you and speaking the entire time mostly ignoring him until you walked past the living room where Soap, Ghost, and Price sat all turning their heads as they heard Kyle ramble on.

“You can just do that! It's like putting a luxury steak in front of a starving man and telling him he can have the ingredients to make one himself but he has to watch as you eat the other one right in front of him!”

“Oh my god! You're such a baby! Relax! I was joking relax and grab the ingredients out while I get the mixing bowl”

He relaxed as he set about gathering the flour, yeast, sugar, and wet measuring cup out of the cupboards.

“Do you think three or four batches, usually when it's just the two of us I do a double and we have a bit of leftovers”

He pauses for a moment contemplating before settling

“ I think four, just to be safe, Soap can really put it away, same with Ghost”

The two of you set about measuring the water-to-yeast ratio before setting it aside to activate and beginning to put together the toppings, as you're pulling things out of the fridge you pause for a moment before closing the fridge and moving out to lean on the doorframe and asking

“Is there anything that you guys don't like on your Pizza?”

Price looks up from the book that he was reading, and Ghost and Soap turn their heads to face you. There’s a quiet moment before Soap responds first

“Mushrooms”

You nod

“Okay, anything else?”

“Jalapenos”

Price says softly, making a face as he does

“Got it, Ghost? You got anything you don't want?”

Again you meet his eyes and freeze holding them as he slowly shakes his head

“Okay then”

Returning to the kitchen you see Kyle standing at the counter, giving you a knowing look, you stick your tongue out at him, giving him the middle finger as you do and he laughs, before the two of you set to cutting up the remaining toppings into more manageable sizes and putting them into their containers so that once the dough is done you can simply grab some out of each container and top the pizzas as you see fit. Once that was done you grabbed the pans out of the drawer under the oven setting it to preheat as you did. After you had sprayed the pans with non-stick spray.

By that time the dough was ready and you dumped it out on the counter and began to knead more flour into the dough until it was the right consistency. Before dividing it into sections and putting them on pans, Kyle grabs one and starts spreading the dough on the pans, after that it becomes somewhat of an assembly line, you sauce each pizza and he follows behind you, spreading cheese on each, before moving on to the next topping, and as you are finishing up Ghost walks in.

“Hey, need anything?”

He just stands there for a moment before responding

“Tea?”

You pointed to the kettle on the counter

“There's a bunch of teas in the drawer under there, and you'll have to wait for the water to boil, mugs are in the cupboard just above”

He nods and makes his way over, filling the kettle before placing it back on its stand and pressing down the paddle to start it boiling, opening the cupboard and grabbing a mug out. It was a black one that you had gotten fairly recently, it changed colors with heat, and when it got hot a black and white union flag.

“Good choice” you tipped your head towards the mug in his hands when he tilted his head to the side with a questioning look.

After a minute, the oven dinged, signifying that it was ready and you put two of the pizzas in, and starting a timer, then started some hot water in the sink, and started the dishes. Kyle had left the room a few minutes prior going to change into a clean shirt, as his had somehow become covered in flour, despite him not having any contact with the container except for pulling it out of the cupboard.

A moment passed in silence as you were putting dishes in the drying rack before Ghost spoke, it startled you when he spoke but you had gotten used to Kyle walking into the room without you noticing and had stopped jumping after living together for a few months.

“You and Garrick seem close”

Its a question disguised as a statement but you understand the meaning

“I’ve lived here for almost three years, we get along pretty well, but as for the real question you're asking, no, we are not a couple. Just friends, close friends, but friends all the same”

You had finished the dishes and moved to pull plates out of the cupboard, placing them on the counter and putting hot pads down on the counter for when the first pizzas were done. Ghost nods and pours himself a cup of tea when he sees that the water had finished, excusing himself once he had finished.

A moment later, Kyle walked in, now wearing a clean shirt, he noticed the kettle on the counter and grabbed his designated mug off of the mug tree, and poured himself a cup, before grabbing a teabag out of the drawer, leaning on the counter next to you, cradling the mug in his hands.

“Noticed you got Ghost talking”

“Can’t talk to the guests that my roommate brought home?”

He scoffs with a small smile before smiling

“ not saying that just that the Lt isn't much of a talker outside of work, I think that's the most he's spoken to someone outside of the team”

Before you could respond to him the timer that you had set on your phone went off and you pulled the pizzas out of the oven and put two more in, leaving only one more to be put in after. After you had put the next set in you quickly cut the fresh pizzas and announced loud enough that the others could hear.

“Pizza’s ready!”

There's a moment of shuffling in the other room before Soap comes bounding in, ready to eat.

You gestured to the plates next to the pizzas

“Help yourself, there's two more in the oven and one that hasn't gone in yet so you should be able to have as much as you want”

Soap eagerly filled his plate, Price followed quickly after and you noticed Ghost hesitate for a moment before grabbing a plate and putting a few slices on and sitting down at the table with Soap and Price, Kyle moving to grab a plate and sitting down, you checked your phone. You saw that there were only a few minutes left on the timer so you resigned yourself to leaning against the counter.

Price looked over at you, noticing that you hadn't grabbed a plate

“You not eating?”

You shook your head featuring to the oven

“These will be done in just a minute so ill pull these out and then ill sit down with you guys”

He nods and you look over when you hear a small grunt and see Soap coughing, steam coming out of his mouth, clearly not expecting it to be so hot. You silently watch as they dig in, Ghost pulling the mask he wore up just above his mouth so that he could eat.

When the timer went off again you pull the others out and put the final one in. You cut those and moved the empty pan out of the way, tapping with your fingers to ensure you won't burn your fingertips off, this earns you a glare from Kyle who regularly chastised you for having so little regard for how hot things are.

After you filled your plate and sat down. By the time you had finished your first slice, Soap had stood up to get seconds and when he sat back down he started asking you questions about yourself, starting with your job. You explained that it is mostly testing product designs and checking to see that they comply with the safety regulations in the US or the UK, your department was created a few years ago when the company merged with the one that you had worked for in the states. Then he asked about your family, and you answered that they had unfortunately died in a pileup driving home from visiting some family in another part of the state.

Then your timer goes off so you pull the last pizza out of the oven and put it on the counter and cut it before sitting back down.

There is an awkward pause before Price interjects, asking about your hobbies. You told him that after graduating high school you had taken welding classes and had actually started as a welder in your company but moved up over time as your supervisors realized that you were good at remembering what was in or out of regulations, so in your free time you sometimes spent some time in the shop working on art projects, which was where you had gotten some of the metal artwork that hung around the house. You also volunteered at the local animal shelter so you could get your animal fix as you still couldn't justify getting one as you thought you worked too much. You explained that there was also an older lady down the road with who you had dinner once or twice a week and she talked to you about her late husband who had been in the Royal army and was convinced that somehow you and Kyle were an item despite you insisting that you were nothing but friends, even talking about dates that Kyle had gone on.

“Did you have dogs growing up?”

This time its Ghost asking, which you thought from what Kyle had told you was maybe a little odd but you answered him nonetheless

“Yes, but it was always little dogs, every time I mentioned to my mother that I wanted a bigger dog, she would always tell me the same thing ‘poop is proportional’ but I've always wanted to get a bigger dog, partially because I want someone who I can take hiking with me and feel safer than I did when I took my mom's little thirteen-pound dog with me but also cuz ‘scary dog privilege’ you know?”

They all looked at you, clearly not knowing what you meant, so you continued

“Okay so basically the thing is that if you have a big scary-looking dog you are less likely to be catcalled or harassed by men because they assume that the dog will protect you, but it is also if you just walk around with someone who looks scary like when I'm walking alone, even in broad daylight I get at least one or two guys who say something that toes the line of harassment, I've gotten more used to it now but I’d like to be able to walk down the street and enjoy my day without being yelled at. But when I walk to the store with Kyle or go get lunch with some of my colleagues, most of whom are men, it's far less likely to happen.”

They're all looking at you now with varying levels of anger on their faces

“Jesus”

Price has set down the slice of pizza and just looks down at the table, they've all stopped eating now.

The rest of dinner is significantly quieter but goes smoothly and they polish off all of the pizzas, Kyle and Soap disappear into the living room to find something to watch on the Tv, Price helps collect the plates from the table and you start the dishwater and have done half of the dishes before you realize Ghost is still sitting at the table, he's replaced the mask over his face but is just sitting at the table.

“You alright there Ghost?”

He looks over at you, nodding before standing and pushing his chair in, and walking over.

“Anything I can do to help?”

You wait a moment, before handing him a pan that you had just washed and rinsed

“Could you pop this in the oven to dry off?”

He does so and waits for the next one, and stays until he has put the last one in the oven, managing to balance them so that all the pans are drying in the still-toasty oven. You wash the last dish, setting it in the drain rack and wiping down the counters, clearing off the crumbs that were left over, and then rinsing the rag and letting the dishwater out, hanging it up to dry out on the bar above the sink.

“Thank you for dinner”

You turn, leaning against the counter, looking up at Ghost.

“Thank you for helping clean up”

“Course, any time”

#ghost x reader #cod mwii #i dont know

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paganminiskirt · 1 year

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TALES FROM THE WIP WEDNESDAY CRYPT - NO LODGING FOR THE MAD EDITION

So, guess who finally got some revision done?Hopefully, I’ll be out of this Fucking Lobby Scene soon; I do mean to finish this someday.

Been tagged by @shallow-gravy and @adelaidedrubman these past few weeks; tagging @henbased @florbelles @vasiktomis @deputy-morgan-malone @strafethesesinners @broken-balance-baby @detectivelokis @derelictheretic

“The name, sir?” He didn’t go out of his way to include the honorific, but the man snickers anyways.

“How about Jack Moulton.” He says it like the punchline of a joke. “Don’t think I’ve used that one before.”

Mindlessly Joseph hums an agreement, fiddling with the register. The name on the card is “Adrian Solossa” - what even is that, Spanish? Faith would know, god I miss her - but he could always say he thought it belonged to one of his buddies, if the cops ever come knocking on behalf of whoever’s pocket it was plucked from.

“William Peyton still owns this motel, yes.”

Of course, this is a friend of his boss, the living wax statue. “He does”

The man - Jack draws back from the desk, finally, swiping up the keys. “Tell him Hoyt is here in the morning. Hoyt, not Jack. Let him come by and say howzit.”

He’s got no goddamn clue what the last part of that sentence was, but he catches his real name, the archaic, viking-ish Hoyt. He’s handled people who used fake names before, husbands two-timing their wives and lot lizards from miles up the road, two distinct types of whore. Hoyt’s a bit old to be a gigolo, his friends a bit underdressed; a pimp from out of town and his security, maybe. It would explain why it seems he’s supposed to feel honored.

Jack or Hoyt or whatever he is pushes himself up off the table, the motion a greater mercy than anything Joseph’s seen since coming out here.

“Go unlock the door on 235 and turn the heat on.” He tosses the key to the sunburn, who catches them seamlessly, somehow still sharp. “Bring the floppy haired yokel with you, he can carry the bags.”

He kicks the glass door open unceremoniously, hovering a bit in the threshold to cock his head in Joseph’s direction.

“Do that quickly for me, eh?” One ugly blue eye winks, pleased with himself from the looks of it. “Long night.”

The door falls shut behind him, a draft brushing Joseph’s cheeks as he watches him disappear into the dark.

As quickly as he can, Joseph wriggles his arms into his hoodie and slinks out from behind the desk, some exhaustion seeping back in now that the shock has worn off. Helping his weird friend settle in must mean something to his boss, he decides, and Joseph is doing him a favor working with a scalded hand as is - once this is over, he’ll stay outside to smoke a cigarette. He’ll spend what’s left of the shift doing what he likes.

He’s already halfway to the door by the time the sunburn hauls himself out of his chair with a grunts. A shockwave of chilled, breathable air washes over him as he drags it open, and he sucks it in greedily, even as his body tenses.

This stretch of land always has a languidness to it, but at night the desert drops all pretensions of life and slips into dreamless sleep. In the half-year since he drifted out here, the road has seen no cops, no buses and no cars worth more than 5K. He buys his food from the same place where his coworker puts gas in her car, steals appliances from the Hotel’s stock when his own break down. Every so often, a coyote will go behind the dumpster to gnaw bones or have pups, but they never settle here, no more than the clientele. Joseph is attendant to a dusty, transient purgatory, locked down where the guys he came to Texas with have long since passed through.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do, if something happens to him.

#joseph seed #far cry 5 #hoyt volker #no lodging for the mad

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owmylasagna-blog · 1 year

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c, e, f, g, i, k, s!!!!

Oh my god wowowow let’s do this!

Just a heads up: tw for discussing abuse for question K.

C: What member do you identify with most?

Trick question i relate to all the Eds for different reasons!! But for real I guess in the dynamic of the three together I am absolutely Ed.

E: If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it be about?

Hmmm I don’t know! I feel like my fics are all little separate contained packages. Maybe not so much sequels but snippets from the same general timeline. I don’t want to spoil how LMS ends but of course I have ideas about the events following its conclusion.

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

Okay here is another because I’m bad at picking favorites… from Ch 4 of LMS.

Clapping her hands together, the enthused employee responded, “My goodness! Isn’t that funny! Three friends with the same name. Why, you could write a story book about something like that.”

“Eh, probably more like a TV show,” Eddy replied, running a hand through his hair to make sure it wasn’t out of place from Ed’s ruffling.

“What would it be about?” The woman inquired.

Eddy placed Sparky’s name tag over his right thumb, flicked it until it flipped a few times, and snatched it midair on the descent.

“Beats me. It’s kind of a weak premise. Sounds like it needs a plot.”

I enjoyed the irony of the characters in-universe not being aware they are characters from a kids cartoon. It’s just fun for me to play with that, and prod at the common criticism that the show didn’t have a plot lol. It had a plot but it was often simple. The imagery of Eddy flipping the tag was meant to allude to the main plot driver for most of the show: getting quarters for jaw breakers.

Lol I also appreciated you shouting out the Eddy line from this bit of dialogue from The Ed Must Go On. I also felt proud of myself for getting Eddy’s stubborn-as-an-ass voice right haha and I can’t resist writing Edd and Eddy bickering:

Eddy just leaned back, crossing his arms.

“You know. It’s your way or the highway.”

“Well I can’t help that you were pulling the fabric too taut. Your seam is going to be cockled.”

“Maybe I like my seams cockled.”

G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

I guess more the latter. I often get specific dialogue or scenes in my head and work a plot around that. Sometimes if there are multiple scenes I’ll cobble them together in an order that makes some logical sense. With a more complicated multi chapter fic I have general outlines of events, locations, timelines too that I’m working with.

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

Honestly my answer to F this time around reminded me I’m such a sucker for 4th wall breaks and references back to events from the show. I integrate them a lot, hopefully not entirely overdoing it (I’m definitely overdoing it). Um also big fan of physical comedy - how could I not be, eene is the best with slapstick!

K: What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?

Oh jeez… it’s a fair question but I’m so cringe. In my old fic Ready I heavily insinuate that Eddy was physically and sexually abused by his bro.

S: Any fandom tropes you can't resist?

I’m not sure! Forgive me, my brain in jamming. I’m thinking of more like headcanons, not necessarily tropes? Like having them be stoners in high school.

#yap yap dribble dribble

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odnson · 2 years

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two tag games involving fic stuff under this

one line any fic! rules: pick ten of your fics, scroll to somewhere midpoint, pick a line chunk and share it, and then tag ten people.

tagged by @b1uetrees, thank u so much!! i’m a little late but i finally got the time!! i don’t think i can pick 10 fics tho; i’ll get to posting a 10th fic someday. 😂 also not putting the entire titles because i’m on mobile 💀

1. this one is from rivers aka one that is still very dear to my heart 😂

Instead of saying anything, Joowon chooses to act: he lets his breath ghost Dongsik’s nape, watching the hairs there stand before he leans in and kisses the skin between his shoulder blades, at the first knob that formed his spine.

2. this is perhaps my fave line from hook, only because i have a vivid image of ds tearing down the walls caging yy’s remains with his hands after he saw there 👀

Dongsik knows how to be gentle, but sweetness eludes him.

3. to the sun features jw and hyuk having a moment and looking back, i still like it so:

Joowon is steadily working past all these preformed prejudices in his mind, and he’s long realized that he’s been treating Hyuk like shit because he never saw Hyuk’s concern for him as something sincere.

4. from waterworn wishes, aka perhaps me at my cheesiest

Dongsik wonders if this is how it feels to be loved.

5. from tall ships, which i think still has the intro i’m really proud of:

There’s no guitar, but Dongsik’s heart sings nonetheless.

6. from as the world, one of my stuff that i look at rarely, but doing this fic meme thing reminded me that i had this bit in it

It takes him back to the reed fields, to wind against his hair as he tugged Joowon away from meeting the brunt of it.

7. this one is from company policy, and i really like it only because i think it hones in on the fact that jw is the “get out of my school” meme the moment he developed a crush 😂😂😂

He hates how everyone is entitled to Lee Dongsik’s kindness, but his dislike is reserved only for him.

8. this is part of wasted love’s summary, but eh, i think it says a lot about my hcs about these two lmao

The longer he remained here, the more he realized that this was exactly where they differed: Han Joowon was capable of loving only one person, but Lee Dongsik possessed a heart too big to love just one.

9. from qualm, the only fic i have that had the scenes flowing in a pace that didn’t require any separator, which, i think, is really interesting fsr bec i never trusted myself to have a piece that had one cohesive flow

There is no torrential downpour soaking them, no more darkened, dusty basement concealing decades-old secrets, and still Han Joowon is pleading.

second meme starts here, the fic writer interview. @b1uetrees was very kind to tag me once again, thanks very much!! 💕

name/nicknames: j

fandoms: be nowadays; gotta love how insane those characters made me

two shots: hmmmm to the sun and hook, perhaps? hook is so self-indulgent lmfao i wanted service top jw shaving off ds’ stubble and it was so specific that i knew i had to do it myself if i wanted it to exist 😂😂😂 to the sun was also self-indulgent, (all my stuff are lbr) but not as much as hook, i think. it did have jw in eyeliner tho, which ngl, i wrote for me 😂

most popular multi-chapter fic: exec horny/company policy 😂😂😂😂 funnily enough, it was 50k when i completed it and i thought “yeah i can post this in chunks” because i like finishing stories before posting, but idk. sth happened and it turned into an 80k thing somewhere along the way.

actual worst part of writing: oh, writing itself, i guess. like, wdym i gotta do it myself and that idea won’t spring out of my head fully formed like athena?? what

how do you choose your titles: unless something fits for the whole thing (like company policy), i go through a bunch of instrumental osts

do you outline? the better question would be “do u follow the outline” imo because that’s when i’ll start sweating 😂😂😂 i mean i do outline, but only for significant stuff i’ll likely forget (covid did me so bad and gave me horrible brain fog), but how to get from one plot point to another…………i wing that most of the time 💀💀💀

ideas you probably won’t get around to, but wouldn’t it be nice?: mafia au, i stg, i did this little meme re: zodiacs and battery percentages on the cursed bird app and it revealed a “gang au” which is basically the same thing?? yeah. i do have an idea for it and the whole vibes, but wdym i gotta sit down for it to see it happen? 🙃

callouts @ me: ur phone is not a suitable device for writing

best writing traits: i think it’s the fact that i always write for me 😂 like, i write what compels me, what i want to see, what i enjoy. other ppl liking it is a very nice bonus, but me liking it has to be the most important factor here. i’d hate for the joy of writing to be taken away from me.

spicy tangential opinion: this might come as a shock to some ppl but if u don’t like sth, pressing the backspace key usually makes the thing go away. also if u’re going to be nasty to some fics, do it in ur dms and gcs and not on the cursed bird app bec u don’t know who sees those and don’t, ffs, bookmark the fic and tag it with “meh” or put a rating 💀💀💀 i’ve seen these things happen and with all due respect to ppl who do these: wtf is wrong with u??? (if u dont have gcs or frens to trashtalk stuff with then guess what, u’re probably a nasty fandom police that everyone has blocked)

not tagging folks bec i think everyone has done this by now 😂😂😂 if anyone wants to do it tho, say u’re tagged by me!! 💕

#tag game #very late to this but thats life for u #also no if u know me on twi u dont; i refuse to interact there #i use that app to see impressive art tagged ‘rkgk’ and look like they can be on louvre #text

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