#[[ might have to fix this later OTL

[pocketramblr]

me paying money to get my car fixed again: its ok,,, you will not die the richest man in the graveyard,,,

[lixenn]

Wound repair

@dreamieparadise ask and you shall receive! (@myrmyrtheorca the buddy tag because pallid flame shenanigans)

(I haven't found an image that appeals to me in that book so I'm back to square one might as well share my knowledge)

Like I mentioned in the tags wound healing is a very complex process and I'm in no way an expert on it but here a brief summary from yours truly (with some talk about scars because that was super interesting).

You can section the wound repair into three parts: inflammation, tissue formation and tissue remodeling, keeping in mind that there is some overlap with these processes. In biology most things often happen in parallel it's a bit messy and complicated tbh but if it works, it works!

Inflammation:

A wound is often connected with destroyed blood vessels aka you bleed all over the place. Which not great, no matter what the local bloodthirsty psychopath says. So your body goes right to fixing it and this starts with platelet aggregation. Platelets, with red and white blood cells as well as other stuff, are part of the blood cocktail and when blood vessels are damaged they aggregate aka they stick to each other and built a clot. It's a quick way to establish homeostasis and close the wound temporarily (so that you will stop bleeding all over the carpet). Platelet aggregation also leads to recruitment of immune cells which is where the inflammation comes in. I'm not gonna list all the details about the immune response because otherwise i will still be here next week but the gist: activated platelets recruit different immune cells to the wound. Once there, immune cells will do their job of cleaning up foreign particles bacteria etc etc.

Tissue formation

Hours after you accidentally cut yourself during mealprep got the wound reepithelization starts. Basically your epidermis (top most layer of the skin) is broken and that ain't cutting it Chief. You need that epidermis intact so you don't die of infection or waterloss or lots of other nasty shit. So epithelial cells from around the wound wander to the damaged part of the skin to reestablish the epidermis. There's also some differentiation shit going on if the wound is big but I'm not touching this it will makes things even more complicated. In general that section went over my head so just know that the epidermis gets restored because again, don't wanna die of sepsis and all that.

Okay so sorry but i continued to skim over the stuff rn and it's so fucking much i really don't know how to summarize all this in a coherent manner OTL

Basically you have platelet aggregation, immune cells cleaning up the site (and doing lots of other stuff too), migration of epitehial cells. Formation of granulation tissue? i checked out on that part tbh, but i think that forms at the base of a wound to fill it up (involves fibroblasts and extracellular matrix (ECM) again i don't really get that part). Then you have angiogenesis which means formation of new blood vessels. annnnd after that i really didn't have the spoons to read pages about signaling pathways and stuff. (so many cytokines.... and growth factors...)

Let's skip to scars because I've read that part so I can deliver scar facts 🫡

A wound needs to be deep enough for scar tissue to form quoting the book I'm reading:

For example, human dermal injuries must reach at least 0.51 mm from the epidermis for a noticeable scar to be observed 28 weeks later

Scars are different to normal skin tissue because of their collagen structure. In normal skin tissue collagen I is structered in a basket-weave pattern. With scar tissue however, collagen I is arragened in parallel bundles. This explains why scars have less tensile strength and flexibility than healthy tissue because the basket-weave pattern allows for more flexibility. Also scar tissue has no elatin in it which contributes to the stiffness as well.

Scars look different compared to healthy tissue mostly because of melanocytes (which give skin its colour) and because lots of different dermal structures can't be regenerated from scratch so the wound is filled up with collagen and ECM instead.

Othewise another cool scar fact: Scarless healing in humans is possible but only in fetus and oral mucosa, which i get the fetus but I didn't know about the oral mucosa so that's neat. Again quoting my book here:

In adult humans the oral mucosa can heal with insignificant scar as well. This tissue has some similarities to fetal tissue in which the environment is consistently hydrated, experiences little mechanical stress, and has a stunted inflammatory response.

So yeah that's it from my side 🫡 I hope this was somewhat understandable also sorry for just giving up halfway through but i didn't have the spoons for so much non-fiction reading OTL

[poupeesdecirque]

WiP - Cosplay Bookman Jr - Wig & Costest!

Here we go again with another new cosplay in progress. For now I am at the planning stage for two Cosplays, I will not talk about the one needing the brown wig (yet) but will come back to it later.

For now I am just working on the wigs and will sew for Lavi later on.

First was unwrapping the wig and brushing it out. As you can see it already makes a difference. But with the skills and tools I have on hand now this is just the beginning.

Next was crimping the wig, here is half of it done and the full crimped wig. Already a huge difference.

Of course I couldn't resist a quick wig test. The styling is up next and I will sleep over the decision how short I want the bangs as having the scarred eye covered might not be the worst idea. The fun thing here is that I wear my hair like this anyways so a quick mock up was easy for me, I kept it tied to have a reference for the braids later on.

Next day was styling the wig, including cutting and a lot of steam. Here you can see the first steps, the result from yesterday, the sidestreaks steamed and the bangs cut.

Followed by styling the bangs and giving the long parts a good steam as well to have them equally long.

I then braided the whole thing and decided to test the wig ... of course. I can tell I found some weak spots in the styling its the first time to go for such a style, I tried to fix it somehow I will later on do a more detailed cosplay testing with wigcap and band and all that to find out if it works or not.

I literally own one white shirt and use it for Allen, Nea, Mana and my pastA variant so ... Bookman Jr it's your turn. The Bookman outfit is basically this, it's more or less an instant cosplay for me with the wig now. I maybe will make an own tie here not sure as ... I originally made it for pastA as we still thought he and Bookman Jr were the same OTL

[guppydogcity]

What are some of your best tips for beginner artists? Any book recommendations? youtube channels? blogs? etc i love your art you've improved so much

thank you so much!!! :-)

disclaimer before i start: im not a professional or anything at all this is just stuff that helped me. im just some guy so i might be wrong..! OTL

hmmm i don't think i have any specific blogs or youtube channels.. i've heard that the books 'color and light' by james gurney and 'light for visual artists' are both really good for learning how to think about objects in a 3d environment and how light affects them.. OH! also i love the book morpho, it's so useful for thinking about the human body and stuff. try to avoid youtube channels that are like "fixing your ugly art" or try to give a Quick Hack for drawing something complex like a human body, where it only applies to 1 body type stiffly facing forward

a big part of 'getting better' at art is to learning to think about art in a more in depth way. so if you see a movie or an artist you love, try and study their art and think about why specifically it compels you so much. is it how they colour their linework? is it the looseness of the poses? the symbolism? i have a big 'inspiration' channel on my 1 person discord server that everything i really like is put there for me to really look at and dissect later. i'd also really recommend speedpaints so you can get the process down.. same with watching artists on twitch so you can see thought processes and stuff live. even if you don't draw along or anything you're still improving your technical knowledge.

don't worry about posting it or how 'good' it is, even if it's something you're not personally satisfied with you're still building good muscle memory. if you're in an art server with friends that's a great time for you to ask "hey i dont feel satisfied with this, is there anything that sticks out to you". also try lots of different things.. backgrounds suck but they're really good for helping you learn perspective and stuff. something something perfect is the enemy of good something something. also the fundamentals are boring but they're really useful

i hope this was even a little helpful and sorry if it came off a little generic sounding o7 this is just stuff that helped me. youve got this

[kaiowut99]

GX Finalized-Subs!81 (WIP) - Sleepless in Yamanote

With the fixes and stuff I’ve finished up for 80, I’ve now started working on stuff for episode 81 before I work on revising both episodes’ scripts.  As part of that, I’m hitting the one to-do list item I flagged for myself back in 2020 and translating the 2chan-like thread that Shou/Judai and Kanda are looking at (Shou and Judai through Shou’s PDA in images 1 and 2, Kanda through his laptop on images 3-6).

(EDIT, 8/8: Final product!)

Keeping in mind that this was a 2006-era thread (and thinking back to my Pojo/Janime days lol), I brushed up a bit on Japanese emoticons to make sure I conveyed those correctly--though I am still a little bit confused with the  “('Ａ`)ｳﾞｪﾉｱ” one; the Japanese Yahoo! Answers page or two and other sites I looked at to find more on its meaning mentioned it’s like a “cry that you can’t get out” so I figured the “QQ” one would work, but if there’s another equivalent someone might know about, lemme know lol.  “OTL” I’d known about for a while and I figure it’s a pretty decipherable one, and the “ ｷﾀ━━━━(ﾟ∀ﾟ)━━━━!!!!!” one (”there he is!!”) seemed to note a bit of sly excitement (kind of like a 😏 smirking, was my read; I thought about “\o/” but thought the smirk would work better since the following line has “((((((((;ﾟДﾟ))))))))ｶﾞｸｶﾞｸﾌﾞﾙﾌﾞﾙ” for a trembling-fear/scared reaction that I figured “D8″ would work well for, but again, lemme know if that could be better conveyed).  Also used Verdana for the font since forums around then did love Verdana, and I chose not to keep “Name” and “Timestamp” next to the names and timestamps to save on some redundancy.

Also worth mentioning, as I looked into this, that this whole asking-for-love-advice-online bit, as well as the “('Ａ`)ｳﾞｪﾉｱ” emoticon, seems to be referencing the Densha Otoko/Train Man story, where a nerdy guy/otaku on a train intervenes as women were being harassed, he goes on to date one of them, and it’s catalogued and followed up on through 2ch; the woman he dates also goes on to send him luxurious gifts, including goods from a “Benoist” British tea brand sold in Japan (the kana next to that emoticon sound out “benoa”).  This does explain why Kanda later goes up to Judai and Asuka and acts like Judai was accosting her (after Asuka poured water on him and the others), lol.  The Yamanote in Kanda’s username is also referencing the Yamanote Train Line, possibly also referencing the Densha Otoko story (his username is “yamanote-sen meguri,” which I translated here as “touring-the-yamanote-line”). (Also, the episode aired on 4/9, but these were posted on 4/18... interesting.)

Now, for the first shot, I’ll need to work it into the footage and add a little screen flickering (which I did before with this from my 5D’s “Dub-Uncut” project, so it shouldn’t be too hard), while for the second, it’s a quick zooming-out redo.  For that third shot it’s in (which I brightened by adding an Overlay-blended layer over the resized screen translation), I’ll have to mask Kanda back on top of the resized translation while he types his response to Judai, but also shouldn’t be too hard.  I’ll post an update once I do, lol.

[anarchyduck]

[appear] “ i need help. please. ” gerfra

So sorry this took for-freaking-ever OTL ---------------------

Takes place: 1942, Paris

  Germany does not find sleep easily anymore. The wheels in his head continue turning, agonizing over battle plans and strategies, over conversations he held with subordinates and superiors. He thinks about the paperwork that sits untouched on his desk, in untidy piles that would usually dive him made. A half empty bottle of brandy sits in the middle of it all, a glass of it in his hand as he stares out the window to the Parisian streets.

 A rapid knock breaks through his thoughts and he stills, waiting. It is late and he is not expecting company at this hour. Another knock pushes him to move. He sets the glass down on the desk as he crosses the room, hand on his pistol as he nears the door. Thoughts filter through one by one, all with the touch of paranoia as he wonders who it could be.

 “I know you’re there.” A voice, tired and strained, and slightly muffled through the wooden door. “Don’t be rude.”

 A moment of shock stills his actions but then Germany opens the door. France stands before him, his clothes shuffled and worn. His face is narrower than last time Germany saw him, and he looks in need of a shave. More alarming than that is the blood that covers the side of his face.

 “I need your help.” He says before Germany can ask. Tired blue eyes fix on him. “Please.”

 He should not. He knows he should not. The last time he saw France was nearly two years ago after taking Paris. How tall and mighty France stood high even after being defeated. He was bloody then too. Though he was hurting, he walked with his head held high and greeted him with the same grace and charm Germany remembered him for. He came willingly and there was no need for shackles. Few days later, France was gone. Now here he stands, dressed in dirty clothes at his door.

 Germany pulls him inside, closes and locks the door behind them. “You shouldn’t be here.”

 France laughs dryly. “I could say the same about you.” He stumbles in his step before sitting down heavily in the closest chair. He groans as he leans his head back, his eyes falling close as he rests.

 Germany realizes the strange situation he has found himself in. His enemy enters his living quarters in the dead of night, wounded and exhausted. He doubts France has the strength to fight back. The thought of radioing it in snakes into his mind. He should call it in. France would be arrested, placed into the cuffs that he avoided before. It would certainly resolve some problems. His superiors would congratulate him for the capture. Something about it does not sit well. The mental image of France being carried away to execution makes his stomach churn.

 He finds himself walking to the bathroom to retrieve a first aid kid and wet washcloth. France is still in the same position when he returns and, were it not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, Germany might have suspected him to be dead.

 A chair scraps across the wood floor as Germany pulls it around the coffee table to France's side. He sets the kit down and, with the cloth, begins to carefully wipe the blood from the man’s face. “What happened?” he asks.

 “Just a touch of carelessness on my part.” France replies. His eyes are still closed, though his brows twitch together every so often.

 “Thought you had gone south.”

 “I did, for a time. But I missed my city.”

 Germany continues cleaning the blood away and finally finds a wound at France's hairline. It is clotted and closed now, though he wonders if it needs stitching. His brows pull together, and he moves the cloth away with a frown. The thought from before resurfaces once again, gnawing at his mind. A little voice tells him to call for reinforcements and another tells him to take care of it himself. Other questions came to mind, the top of them being why was France back in Paris?

 France's eyes open and he tilts his head to look at him. He looks awful, Germany thinks. Cheeks are hollower than he remembers. Dark circles beneath his eyes and a day-old bruise on his jaw. A still healing scrape blemishes his cheek and he looks tired. Worn thin. “So?” he asks, drawing Germany from his observations. “How bad is it?”

 “It’s fine. You’ll live.”

 “What wonderful news.” France says and Germany cannot discern if it was sarcasm or not.

 He stands and takes the bloodied cloth to wash in the sink. When he returns, France is helping himself to the brandy at his desk. Germany stills a moment and thinks of the many secret documents laying open on his desk. The paranoid voice hisses in the forefront of his mind and he chooses not to pay mind to it. Instead, he looks at the man standing by the window that overlooks the city. How delicately he holds the glass as he drinks, the moonlight in his hair.

 “Quiet night.” France says. “Never could stand the quiet when I was younger and now, I don’t mind it much. This industrial age is so noisy that I almost wish for quiet nights again.” He takes a sip then looks to Germany. “Suppose you wouldn’t know much about those nights, would you? Long before the wonders of electricity and automobiles.”

 “Why are you here, France?”

 “This is yours, yes?” France picks up the other glass of brandy Germany left on his desk and holds it out to him. “Drink with me. And do not worry, I didn’t poison it.”

 “I wasn’t thinking that.” Germany retorts as he takes the offered glass and, if to prove his point, takes a sip. France smiles lightly in approval.

 “We both know it would take more than poison to harm you.” he says calmly. “It is exhilarating, no?”

 Germany frowns, mind scrambling to catch up. “What?”

 “Conquering. The rush of new territory folded into you. Better than any drug in the world. Better than sex.” France chuckles lightly as Germany’s cheeks color red. “Once you have that first taste, you only crave it more. Don’t you, Germany?”

 “I don’t believe that’s an accurate description.”

 “But you do understand, don’t you? The good and the bad of it.” France swirls the liquor around in his glass. “All that territory, it doesn’t belong to you. Your body becomes a war within itself and you crave more in hopes it will satisfy the ache.”

 “Why are you here?” Germany asks again.

 France exhales a sigh and, for a moment, stares into the swirling brandy. Then he takes a drink and says, “Wonder if I could take a bath while I’m here?”

 Just how long does France intend to stay, he wonders. His mind wars with itself, frustrated he cannot gauge a proper read off the Frenchman. A thought that sounds awfully like his brother tells him to not to trust France. Do not turn your back, it says. Then again, Gilbert said that about many other nations. His chest tightens slightly at the thought of his brother and quickly pushes it out of his mind.

 “Yes, of course.” he replies, and France smiles again.

 “Thank you, my dear.” He finishes his glass in one swallow then sets it down onto the desk. Germany watches him go down the hallway and hears a door close. He drums his fingers around the glass in hand and looks to the empty one on the table. Pipes rattle in the apartment walls as he faintly hears the rush of water and he wonders how he has fallen into playing host to his enemy. He knows the trouble they will both be in if someone caught them.

 If.

 Germany’s mind falls back on France’s hollow cheeks and before he realizes it, he is in the kitchen preparing to reheat soup from earlier.

 France emerges sometime later. In the time spent, Germany has cleared his desk and consumed another glass of brandy. It is enough to finally take the edge off and silence the whispers that slither in his mind. Soup is sitting warm on the kitchen stove, its smell taking over the small apartment. He wonders if it will be enough. If France will take it alone or if he will distrust a meal from his enemy. He looks up as his new guest enters the kitchen and frowns lightly.

 “Are those my clothes?”

 “Found them in the wardrobe. Hope you don’t mind.” France finishes buttoning the cream-colored shirt, leaving the last few buttons at the top undone. It hangs from his body though not in the same way it does to Italy. Though he is broader and taller than France, Germany cannot help thinking the clothes should not hang off that much. “God, I remember when you were smaller.”

 “Excuse me?”

 “You used to be this cute little darling that Prussia adored showing off. And now look at you, all grown up.” France exhales a sigh as he ties back his still damp hair. Few stands escape to frame his face and it's then Germany notices he has shaved. The shadows beneath his eyes remain, as does the bruise on his jaw. His eyes drift upward to the cut on his forehead and feels relief when he sees it is nearly healed. His gaze catches France’s and he sees the man smirking at him. “See something you like, Germany?”

 Germany’s face warms and he hastily turns away towards the stove to lift the pot and stir the soup. Behind, France chuckles lightly and he wonders how much of this the man enjoys. All of it, he realizes. Would it be too late now to throw him out of the apartment? His jaw tightens for a second as he ladles some soup into a bowl and sets it down on the table.

 “Thought you would be hungry so I…” he trails off awkwardly as he catches France’s still smiling at him. He is not sure what about this time.

 “How kind.” France muses. He takes the seat and stirs the contents around in the bowl with his spoon. Faintly, Germany wonders if the man will take food from him. Would he think it was poisoned? But then the worries fade as France begins to eat.

 “Entire city is rationing and here you are with real meat.” he comments between bites. “I thought all resources were going to the front.”

 Germany’s jaw tightens as he frowns. “They are,” he replies.

 “Don’t suppose you have cigarettes on hand, do you?”

 “I don’t smoke.”

 France raises a brow at him and puts his spoon down. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thin metal container from his pocket. “Then what’s this?”

 “Gift.” Germany replies. “But I don’t smoke.”

“Hm. Mind if I do?” France asks as he pulls out one of the cigarettes from the box. He quickly lights it and inhales deep, holds it, then exhales. Germany waves off the smoke that wafts in his direction and moves to take the other seat at the table. They sit in relative silence. While France smokes and eats, Germany once again attempts to figure out the situation he has found himself in.

The grandfather clock in the living room chimes twice as France lights his second cigarette. “Does it ever stop?” he asks suddenly.

Germany frowns. “Does what stop?”

“Those gears in your mind.” France leans back into his chair, cigarette between two fingers as he looks at him. “They have been excessively turning since I arrived. You’re wondering what I’m doing here.”

“I am curious, yes.”

France hums in his throat and brings the cigarette to his lips. Smoke curls in the light as it floats about the room. “You wonder if I am here to steal your precious plans. Stuff papers and secret documents into my trousers and carry them off to my leaders.” He takes another drag, the end lighting on the inhale. “Or perhaps I sneak into your bed and slit your throat while you sleep.”

 Germany’s brow furrows. “The thought crossed my mind, yes.” he says tensely. “Why else would you come back, knowing the danger.”

 He laughs and flicks ash into the empty soup bowl. “My dear, I’m not crude like Arthur.” he says. “Besides, in my current state, I could not hurt you even if I wanted to.” 

“Then what do you want?” Smoke swirls around France and it reminds him of Bismarck. When Prussia brought him to Versailles to be crowned as the new German Empire. He had his first cigar then and found it distasteful. It made his eyes water and the smell clung to his clothes for days. France had been there too. Silent and seething from across the room when Wilhelm was proclaimed emperor.

“What I want,” The memory fades as France begins to speak. “I cannot have.” He takes another long drag and Germany wonders if he intends smoking it down to the end as he did the first one. “Least not immediately, so I will settle for second.” 

“Which is?” 

 “A soft bed to start,” France’s lips curl into a smile. “And perhaps your warm company.”

“No.” Germany says immediately and leaves the table, ears growing warm as France’s laughter trails behind him.

[koushirouizumi]

( Description/spoilers/warnings/LYRICS, etc. under the read more ! )

* D O N O T R E B L O G * TEST POST / TO BE REPOSTED TO OTHER DIGIBLOG * LIKES / RESPECTFUL COMMENTS OK

I DID IT     /I FINALLY/     /HAVE A PRELIMINARY AMV OF THIS ONE ..... OMG

" Toumei Answer " ( can be read as "Transparent Answer", "Invisible Answer" .... )

- more Repeat-verse, THIS TIME IT'S VERY TRI ( MAINLY KOKUHAKU, MEIKO ) - a lot more aesthetics in general though ? - however there ARE some slightly spoilery scenes from Bokura no Mirai - if you know DAIGO spoiler or Kyousei's as well, Taichi spoiler, Meichi implied scenes pre-BNM ending etc you already know it - a bit of Meiko and Meicoomon's final scenes are in here too though ..... ;;; ( only small bits though ) (but yeah) - a VERY tiny bit of Kizuna trailer scenes are in here, too ( about 2~3 quick flash scenes or so ) [ more for aesthetics bUT ] - a tiny tiny bit of " To Sora " but it's less of Sora and more of . flowers . yes

- ok so this AMV - this one is my attempt at comparing and contrasting: -- Taichi, Koushiro, & Meiko in general; + Tri!Taichi, Tri!Koushiro; + themes surrounding their storylines/developments ? - as well as : Taishiro, vs Meichi, ( t b h I might be implying at least a few TaiKouMei polyship potentials ) - basically like a character comparisons/introspections video in attempts to point out Things I Am Intrigued By - in regards to their storylines, behaviors [ during Tri's plot especially ], and such and such - basically: tAICHI ..... KOUSHIRO AND MEIKO ARE ..... VERY VERY SIMILAR IN WAYS ACTUALLY ..........

technical notes:

- THERE ARE SOME GLITCHES I NOTICED THEM hopefully they will like - fix themselves when . I re-edit . and add subs . y e a h - ( WMM tends to fix itself upon re-saves, etc. ) - Windows Movie Maker aLSO Began The Crashing towards the middle - I had to split it up by the end of 1st choruses - and re-splice it all together - hence there are some frequently repeated moments ( the classroom scenes ) I will . REPLACE A COUPLE OF THOSE LATER but yeah - was using them as filler to parallel the original video too OTL - so any repeating scenes I might throw in a few more moments of Koushiro to replace them ; etc. later on - CURRENTLY THIS IS UNSUBBED HENCE THIS PLACEHOLDER POST - I PLAN TO ADD SUBS EVENTUALLY, BUT - I PROBABLY WILL NOT BE FINISHED UNTIL JUNE/MID-SUMMER

PLEASE SEE END NOTES FOR ORIGINATING SERIES WARNINGS, ETC.

LYRICS:

...It’s not even bustling , And in that kind of everyday ...

I would sit in my seat many times over as if ... DRIFTING... .

" SO , how about you ? "

As if TRYING AGAIN ,

... The NUMBERLESS TEXTBOOK   ... SAID something .. .

( aah ~ .... )

... If you mean my RESULTS, then , ... Well , I guess they’re   fine   .

... Getting a “ three-digit ‘ perfect ’ score ” on recycled paper.

In the seat beside me , ... With an embarrassed smile ,

... YOU took your seat with a “ low-digit score ” .

Outside the window , I don’t seek anything out .

Because   AN ANSWER   soon RISES UP ...

" ... If that’s the case , then hey , that’s   PRETTY  BORING "

Saying that , Y O U always SEEMED to be  ENJOYING YOURSELF ...

[ Chorus 1 ]

D O N ' T  T O U C H ,

... the   HEART that wants to DISAPPEAR   ANY MORE THAN THIS ,

Even today , it can’t be seen anywhere on this earth ...

The A L A R M that rings out:

TELLS ME     A L O N E ,

" You’re   A   ' COLD-HEARTED '   GUY , H U H "

Even if I put together those    MYSTERIOUS ANSWERS    after so long I’ll still be able to understand them completely somehow

" At this rate ,  EVEN IF   I   DIE ,

SOMEONE ELSE  w i l l  j u s t  REPLACE ME "

... Just whispering that ,

... is so     F O O L I S H . [ Verses 2 ]

Though these drifting days   REPEAT ,

... I get this STRANGE FEELING [ whenever ] YOU'RE   a b s e n t

... Well, whatever happens, the test that is returned tomorrow

... Will probably have a result that hasn’t changed for the better ,

( aah ~ ... )

In that kind of everyday that wasn’t even bustling,

... Somewhere, SOMETHING   may have

.. ALREADY GONE AMISS ...

THE COLOR  of   YOUR HAIR ,

And   your  S M I L E ,

... Someone may already be  U N A B L E  to  REMEMBER IT .

" From THE WINDOW , how is

That   EMPTY SEAT   r e f l e c t e d ? "

I thought I had  KNOWN YOU , B U T

I HAD UNDERSTOOD   /// NOT ONE THING ///   ABOUT YOU .

[ Chorus 2 ]

The days that would surely have continued

Had I been able to understand even a little more ,

Every time I  STOP THE ALARM  that  RINGS OUT , I realize

... That   THEY'RE GONE .....

[ Final Chorus ]

In the classroom, the HEART THAT WANTED

TO DISAPPEAR was INJURED

But kept on CONCEALING IT and LAUGHED ,

MANY TIMES OVER

YOU , who  LEFT FROM HERE  and  VANISHED ,

   ///   I  WON'T  FORGET   ///     YOUR      S M I L E ,

... NOT   even   T O M O R R O W .... ... .. .

slight but significant TRIGGER WARNINGS for the originating song: [ relevant MORE to K@gepro’s original and LESS to Repeatverse BUT ]:  - In K@gepros original version, the song is about a specific girl and boy duo only [ not KageDaze boy+girl, another duo ] ( in my version, I'm throwing in Koushiro as an extra + for . fun . ficverse things ) [ both Koushiro and Meiko are paralleling the girl ; Taichi the boy because Main Charas sIGH ] - since it's Kagepros, of course, there are the psuedo-deaths there too - with Kagepros however, STRONG TW: this song very heavily implies " s.uicide " of the girl of the duo - however in the end it's a LOT more like KAGEPROS SPOILER FOLLOWS: the psuedo-deaths self sacrifice because - the characters initially THINK she has died via those means and at a point she probably had - HOWEVER as the story develops she gets second chances and different outcomes/outlooks sO ..... YES

the original K@gerou Project video for timings, etc. comparisons is here.:

PLEASE note the warnings mentioned above if you watch.

[chocoluckchipz]

Dance with Me, Chaton - 4

Read it on A03, WattPad, FF.net

Written for @ladynoirjuly2019

< Previous

4. Babysitting

Chat Noir: Okay, so, if we’re doing this we’ve got to give everyone a code name.

Ladybug: We already have them. Chat Noir and Ladybug?

Chat Noir: But what about M Agreste?

Ladybug: Why does he need one? We can call him The Boss.

Chat Noir: Too obvious.

Ladybug: What’s wrong with that?

Chat Noir: Nothing unless someone hacks us? We'll be in huge trouble.

Ladybug: :thinking: Won't they see us giving the codenames in the first place?

Chat Noir: We’ll delete these messages.

Ladybug: I feel like it’s easier to agree than argue OTL

Chat Noir: You’ve got it, my Lady.

Ladybug: Okay fine. Let’s do Hawk.

Chat Noir: Hawk? O_o Why?

Ladybug: Because hawks symbolize creativity, wisdom and determination. M Agreste is a hawk.

Chat Noir: Pfft. No? He’s more like a moth. Cooped up in his room all day with fabrics around him.

Ladybug: Hawk.

Chat Noir: Moth.

Ladybug: Listen. If anyone will hack us it’s better to have a more noble code name for him. Just in case.

Chat Noir: And I’ll take full responsibility but he’s a moth.

Ladybug: And you’re stubborn. Okay, fine. Let’s combine them. Mothy Hawk?

Chat Noir: Hawky Moth? LOL

Ladybug: LOL Nope. Hawkmoth? Or Mothhawk?

Chat Noir: LMAO Let’s go with Hawkmoth. It sounds more evil.

Ladybug: Hawkmoth it is then.

Ladybug: So, what do you propose we do? How do we convince them to do something about those designs?

Chat Noir: :thinking: Tbh, I haven’t really thought about any strategies yet. Let’s see what’s realistic at this point at first. I get it that there is no time for creating new designs?

Ladybug: Nope. With a month left till the big show? No way.

Chat Noir: What about pulling them?

Ladybug: We’ll lose at least 10 out of 15 outfits from that line. Not really an option either.

Chat Noir: So, fixing the existing once?

Ladybug: That’s the only way I see it.

Chat Noir: So let’s do this. We’ll sketch the existing designs sans the abomination and present it to him and idk maybe a survey of the company’s employees on which version they prefer? To show him that people hate his “innovations.”

Ladybug: Yeah. Only the issue is no one has access to the full collection apart from Hawkmoth himself. Multiple designers worked on that line over a few months and even they don't know which outfits made the final cut and which didn't. You know how Hawkmoth likes to keep his lines as much a secret as possible to prevent the leaks?

Chat Noir: I admire your adaptability, my Lady ;3 Using the code names already.

Ladybug: LOL I won’t admit that I retyped that message a few times because I kept writing his real name XD

Chat Noir: Still impressive, Okay so we need access to his collection. Suppose we’ll get it. What’s then? I can’t really draw.

Ladybug: Then you’re lucky I can. But I really don’t see how we can get them. Rumours say he keeps everything on his work computer under the state-of-the-art security system.

Chat Noir: Oh shoot. I have to go, my Lady. Let’s think about it and chat later?

Ladybug: Sure. My cue, as well. Thanks for doing this, Chat.

Chat Noir: My purrleasure.

Adrien put the phone away as he noticed Kagami approaching. She was typing something on her cellphone but as soon as she caught him in her side vision, Kagami smiled and waved.

He smiled. Not so subtle, are we, Ladybug?“Good morning, Mlle Tsurugi.”

“Call me Kagami.” The girl smiled at him, putting her cellphone away. “I thought we’ve been over that yesterday.”

“Yes, we’ve been.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I haven't gotten used to this yet.”

She chuckled. “You’re socially awkward, Adrien. That’s adorable, but we’ll need to work on that. A future leader of such a company as Gabriel needs to exude confidence.”

“Right.” Adrien straightened subconsciously. “I’ll work on that.”

“Should we go then?”

“Your shadow for the next few days is ready.”

Kagami smiled, her eyebrow arched. “Good. Because I have quite a few things to show you today.”

And so, Adrien’s mission to confirm that Kagami Tsurugi was the mysterious Ladybug had started. It fitted splendidly. She was fierce and brave and wouldn’t take nonsense from anyone, including his father. Though, with him, she’d held back, expressing her opinion in a polite but confident way. Although he couldn’t confirm her drawing abilities, mentioned in this morning’s chat, that didn’t dishearten Adrien. He’d find a way to do so later without bringing unwanted attention to himself. He couldn’t risk her learning his identity now, not when they’d only just started their conspiracy online.

***

Chat Noir: I hope your day was enjoyable, My Lady.

Ladybug: More or less. Had a lot of work and babysitting to do.

Chat Noir: Babysitting? At Gabriel? Or you skipped work?

Ladybug: LOL. Nope. Babysitting at work. I had a tail following me everywhere today. An intern to educate.

Adrien bit on his lip. Universities had just ended their school year, and Gabriel had a lot of interns following many of his regular employees. It could’ve been anyone. Or Ladybug must be being smart and calling him an intern, so she could still mention her troubles without revealing her identity.

Chat Noir: Were they annoying? It doesn’t sound like you’ve enjoyed the experience calling it babysitting.

Ladybug: XD No they were fine. It’s just a term we’re using for interns. “Babies” because they have no idea what they are in for. And as such, having an intern is babysitting.

Chat Noir: LOL Fitting. So? Do you have any ideas regarding our project?

Ladybug: Sadly no. I’ve thought of showing crazy designs vs regular ones to a third-party and ask their opinion and then show the results to Hawkmoth, but that’ll be leaking the designs. We’ll get fired immediately.

Chat Noir: Didn’t we discuss surveying the company? Not a third-party?

Ladybug: I don’t see how anyone’s opinion inside Gabriel can convince him to change his mind. Someone Hawkmoth admires has to tell him and we all work for him. Not exactly that admiring.

Chat Noir: Well, then we’re thinking more. Say, Ladybug, can I ask you a question?

Ladybug: Shoot, but be quick cause I’m about to call it a day.

Chat Noir: Got it :3 I was wondering what got you to change your mind and go for this? Trying to convince Hawkmoth again.

She took her time to reply, but when she did, Adrien straightened in his seat.

Ladybug: Do you remember how I told you Adrien Agreste was a stuck up antisocial prick?

Chat Noir: Clearly.

Ladybug: Well. Happens I was wrong about him, so I thought if I was wrong about him, I might be wrong about his father not be willing to listen and change.

Adrien huffed and typed.

Chat Noir: Oh, you were right about Gabriel Agreste. Let me assure you. He’s pretty unchangeable and doesn’t like to listen. Believe me. Talking from personal experience.

Ladybug: That’s a pity.

Chat Noir: But he can bargain.

Ladybug: That’s something. The hope lives on ;)

Chat Noir: Let’s hope so, but may I ask what made you change your opinion on younger Agreste?

Ladybug: I guess, meeting him myself. I might have previously formed my opinion on his character based on rumours, the fact that his BFF was Chloe Bourgeois and he dated Lila Rossi. I mean what sane person would hang around those ladies?

Chat Noir: You know the Lila rumours are false, right?

Ladybug: They are?

Chat Noir: Completely. I’ve heard him say himself. In fact, it quite surprised him to hear them. He’d met Lila just yesterday, and it wasn’t anything he’d love to repeat.

Ladybug: But he’s still friends with Chloe?

Chat Noir: Yeah, but only because he wasn’t allowed to attend a public school, and she was the only one around. Though I’ve heard they are not as close now as they used to, and he’s got normal friends in his university.

Ladybug: You know quite a lot about him, don’t you?

Chat Noir: Side-effects of working close to his father. Nothing unusual.

Ladybug: Right. XD Well, I’m glad he's a decent person. He seemed to be. Anyway. I have to go now, Chat. Goodnight.

Chat Noir: Goodnight my Lady.

I’ll see you tomorrow, he whispered into the silence of his room.

_______________________________________________________________________

Next >

[magicjesuscup]

Who Wore it Best (Camelot Edition)

Best Dressed King

Best Dressed Knight

This is just my opinion, and I’d like to hear what other people think, but...

I love all 3 King Arthurs, but my vote here goes to Lancer Artoria. Arthur looks like he just came from the circus. OTL For his design, I would’ve lost the balloons, changed the flowers to roses, and changed his jacket to match his pants. I’m all for pinstripes, but it looks weird when paired with something that has stripes of a different width (or direction). I was disappointed they weren’t brave enough to put Saber Artoria in a suit considering how stunning she looked in her suit from Fate/Zero. The least they could’ve done was dress her like a queen. That tiara is for a princess; give my king a proper crown! They could’ve given her a dress that would’ve been more historically appropriate for the time she lived (and maybe incorporated the design of her armor into the dress)...but nope. Just throw her in the most generic dress you can think of and slap some bows on it. *rolls eyes and groans* I love Lancer Artoria’s outfit though. It’s like she heard there was a party and decided “party = display of strength.” The bit of thigh is true to her later ascensions and feels more tasteful since her boobs aren’t also falling out of her shirt. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense for her to have her thighs exposed on the battlefield, but at a party, it’s at least not stupidly dangerous.

Best dressed knight goes to Bedivere imo. Both Bedivere and Lancelot look like Sailor Moon villains to me (Queen Barrel’s army), but, I dunno, Bedivere just looks really good. <3 Lancelot looks kinda boxy(?) I’m not sure how I would fix that aside taking away those tassel things on his shoulders. As for Mordred, I would remove the tail on his coat, change the color of his his vest to red, and change the flower on his lapel to a red flower (it might be fun if he pretended he stole a flower from Arthur’s bouquet...or that Arthur gave it to him). I also wouldn’t have drawn his pants so tight. The only kind of pants that I can think of that hug a person’s crotch that tightly is leggins. I mean, look at the way Arthur’s pants hang and compare them to Mordred’s pants. It’s just weird since, judging by the size of Mordred’s pocket, he’s clearly wearing men’s pants. His whole hand would not have fit in a pocket on women’s pants; women’s pockets aren’t that deep.

[touchmycoat]

kinktober: day 8

okay in this installment of sub!Marco, shit’s getting real intense. trigger warnings for this one immediately under the cut

day 8: face slapping ( @midnightluck ahahah remember when i told you today’s kink was something else entirely; it’s getting there OTL)

(TW: their approach to consent as portrayed in this fic is Marco basically insisting he doesn’t have/doesn’t know his hard limits when it comes to subbing for sadomasochist play, and they engage in play with the pronounced goal of finding those limits, via getting Marco to say the safeword. There is mutual trust established as play commences, but if this model of consent negotiation is iffy for you please don’t read it!!

Also the kink itself. It happens at the very very end.)

//

//

(direct continuation from this)

“Look, can we sit?”

Quite thoroughly inflamed with guilt at this point, Ace nodded, then folded up his legs and sat down on the floor right where he stood. The intention was to gesture his willingness to listen and his desire to learn; he expected Marco to take the seat higher up on the bed.

Sabo sat down on the floor a split second after Ace, and a few moments later, Marco also folded himself onto the floor. Marco's room was by no means big, but still, none of them were touching.

“I'm sorry, okay?” Ace began, when the silence dragged on and Marco looked more troubled. “This was my idea, but I just don't see how we could possibly get you to admit it.”

“Admit—?” was all Marco managed to get out through gritted teeth.

“Your total lack of boundaries?”

It wasn't that Marco shrunk further away at Sabo's succinct diagnosis. It was just that, for a man usually as physically suffused as Marco, his current rigid frame that seemed to lack even breath (did phoenixes need to breathe?) was... diminishing. Neither Ace nor Sabo had ever seen Marco like this, really. Even Sabo looked a bit uncomfortable at his own characteristic sharpness.

“We just don't want to end up hurting you,” were Ace's final words, the real heart of the matter. That was the absolute truth and Ace was glad he said it—but he had no idea how it would be taken. It could certainly be heard as patronizing, and Ace imagined Marco coldly sneering and dismissing them, two childish idiots who didn't get this kind of relationship, who were too sensitive and damaged with their stupid insecurities. Or worse, Ace thought, it could be heard as cruel. A fundamental rejection of Marco's desires, his character, his behavior. You are not what we want, they seemed to be saying. You've made it your mission to give us everything and still somehow, you managed to miss the one thing you should've given us all along.

Oh, Ace was terrified. He really should've left this well alone, shouldn't he? Now, this was going to be the thing that broke them beyond repair, that took them down a road from which there's no turning back. Ace had struck the match—but dammit, if he had known they were such a goddamn oil spill—

Marco's face, when he looked up, made Ace realize that he was just as terrified. Of losing this. And, Ace thought, losing breath, he'll believe it's his fault.

“I don't know,” Marco said, devastatingly, “how to fix this.”

“What do you—” It's this precise moment that revealed to Ace how much he was used to relying on Marco. Marco's steadfastness, Marco's experience, Marco's judgment. There was so much going on that he didn't understand, but—he forcibly centered himself with a deliberate breath—the question was simply how to move forward. “Okay. Well, you've never asked to be on the masochist side of things, so we just want to hear you admit that you don't want it—”

“But how can I not want it?”

The words, the implications, plus the sheer amount of frustration in Marco's voice sent Ace reeling. He stared, but Marco had clammed up again, lips gone bloodless and fingers wrought so tightly that every hollow bone must be strained on the verge of cracking. Ace could hardly press with Marco in such a state.

(Ace couldn't. But Sabo, happily, would.)

“Well. You are either completely and frustratingly missing the point,” Sabo began, incurring an agitated glare from Ace. Of all the times to pick on Marco. But Sabo was staring straight at the top of Marco's hung head, the meanness in his tone somehow not mean-spirited. Something, Ace thought, was shifting into decision. “Or—” There was that thing they all did on the battlefield, where a man becomes more by projecting his presence all big and predatory. Sabo did, and Marco, to Ace's surprise, glanced up, looking more compelled than cornered. “—you're about to give us the explanation for how this will work.”

(Sabo, for all his previous silence, was of course just as invested. No matter how much he may pretend, there wasn't a drop of indifference running through Sabo's bloodstream.)

Ace—well, he didn't get it, per se, the precise frequencies of the reverberation between Sabo and Marco. But he could still pick up on it, and trust it, and ride it. So he too pulled straight his spine, settling his elbows on his knees until Marco looked over, pupils at an indeterminable width.

“Explain what you meant,” he commanded, and Marco's lips parted on an inhale.

“I,” Marco's voice came out rusty, straining to capture all the right words at such a crucial juncture, “understand yoi, why you would doubt me.”

The first waves of a storm pummeling the ship hull; the words hurt, and begged for absolution. But Ace and Sabo held their ground. It wasn't that they were holding off Marco, but the perfect opposite—they were holding firm the walls, keeping space for Marco to speak.

“But please—” A word that cracked in the air. A word with splinters, catching skin. “—believe that when it comes to you two? When it's something you genuinely want?” Ace sudden remembered the thought, when asked if he genuinely wanted too to take a crop to Marco's flesh, the answer wouldn't be no. The thought caught, like a match has been shoved deep into Ace's guts and then kindling was piled around it. “Whatever you need, whatever you ask for yoi, there is nothing I don't want.”

Sabo hopped to his feet.

“Interesting!” There was a bite to Sabo's flash of grinning teeth as he reached down and pulled Marco up standing. Ace rose as well, hyperaware of every motion as he watched the decisive points of contact between Sabo's hands and Marco's arms. “So you're saying, whatever we demand, no matter how uncomfortable it is for you, you'll not just be fine with it, but love it? Crave it? Get off on it?”

Marco looked wary, as if he thought it might be a trick question. But when Sabo hummed, “well?” with an expectant lift of an eyebrow, he gave a nod.

Then Sabo was turning to Ace, conspiracy in every coy bat of eyelashes.

“Do you believe him?”

Ace watched Marco. Asked himself, how should I?

“No.” Marco's sharp breath punctuated his reply, and Sabo seemed pleased. Before the rejection could sting too long though, Ace stepped up. He took hold of both sides of Marco's open shirt collar (Sabo graciously stepping out of the way) and tugged Marco forward, until they were better centered in the room. Then, he told Marco, “guess you'll just have to convince us.”

A lone hardwood beam ran the length of the bedroom ceiling, mounted in perfect bisection of the cabin. Marco, sometimes, hung damp laundry from it.

Clink! In one deadly motion, Sabo had yanked his undone belt loose from his trousers, doubled it over, and pulled the length of leather across the back of his neck, a hand cheerfully dangling on either end.

“The game is pretty simple,” Sabo declared, before interrupting himself with a critical tsk. Ace got the view from the front as Sabo's booted leg stuck out and kicked Marco's bare feet wider apart. Marco's eyes in turn got wider, but he held the stance. “That's more like it. Oh, the rules. We hurt you until you beg us to stop.”

“You want—” were out of Marco's mouth before he bit down the rest. It was clear what he was asking though, and clearer still that he was asking Ace. That Sabo could happily hurt Marco was never part of the sequence of doubts.

How should I believe him? That question sat, Ace realized, in both his own mind and Marco's. Faith had to start somewhere. So Ace reached deep down into himself, right into the heart of the fire.

“Take the sash off your waist,” he ordered softly. “Tie one end to your wrist.”

Rooted around until he found the flint piece sitting there, superheated and sharp enough to slice open his palm.

“Throw the other end over the ceiling beam.”

Let the blood pour out, red as the flames. A sacrifice. A summoning.

“Grab it. Don't lose your grip now, unless we tell you to.”

He summoned forth a primal memory—a night, not too long ago all things considered. A night that had been so perfect that it sent Ace into hysterical panic when he was finally by himself again. He summoned the Ace who feared, and wondered if smashing the precious things on purpose would be better than inevitably losing his hold on them. He summoned that Ace forward, and answered yes.

Marco, who met that Ace's eyes, seemed more and more the doe-eyed prey. But what sort of prey tested the serrated edges of teeth like he was testing the waters? What sort of prey followed every order in grateful, obedient gestures and let all his veins hang bare?

“Say,” Ace bid, voice crackling with smoke, “mercy.”

“Won't mean anything now, obviously,” Sabo drawled. The only thing giving away his facade of nonchalance was the way the leather creaked in his ever-tightening grip. “But go on. Gotta make sure you know how.”

Despite Marco's whole body indicating his aversion to the task, Ace didn’t back down.

“Or can't you follow this very first order?” Sabo's fucking voice. He must be the temptation of every creation myth.

“Mercy.” The word darted from between Marco's lips like a rabbit from a beaten bush. What a strange, almost ridiculous vision he made: one of the strongest men Ace has ever known, standing barefoot and bare-chested, one hand raised high above his head with the sky blue wrap of cloth around that wrist like the thread of a balloon kept from flying away.

Ace flexed his hand, and slapped Marco across the face.

“Say mercy again,” he demanded. Marco, fingers white around the cloth, shook his rapidly reddening cheek no. Knuckle to Marco's chin, Ace righted Marco's head, before backhanding him with the same hand. “Say mercy.”

“No,” Marco gasped. “Thank you.”

The sharp indrawn breath this time was Sabo's.

(cont’d)

[kaoarika]

I recently went to one of the big book fairs that is organized in my city (and luckily, for me, during the first days and not until the LAST one), so in between the stuff I got (which is getting manga on discount because, lol, why not), I always try to get one or a couple of books that fall into my interest because I’m a romantic craving person, and sometimes I just want to fill my heart with a good (or sometimes, trashy?) romance book.

Luckily, for me, I have a great advantage in reading in English, so, they happen to be my first option ‘cause there are titles that don’t get a Spanish-translated version up until pretty well in the road. That being said, I took pics for reference in case of getting them later.

Truly, I was craving for a similar kind of self-love and romance story as “Favorite Part” (even though what can I say, I cannot say “fill the emptiness it left me” as “there’s still 99% of the story untranslated and I still need to fill context” OTL), so, yeah, and I know it might be hard because... because.

Revising the shelves, I found “Dumplin’” by Julie Murphy. And I know of this book because the movie has been available in Netflix for a couple of months, I guess? Except I haven’t seen it, yet I knew what I have been craving for,

I am still reading it (and I’m devouring it so fast, even though I don’t want it to finish and I’m yet to get into the 100th page). And, unsurprisingly, it has my heart captive. Like quite a lot. 

It’s the kind of book I wish existed back when I was a teen especially as my body image issues were even more obvious back then as I was fat (and hell, do I need to keep mentioning I still have a complicated relationship with my body even though I lost weight last year after finding out potential health/hormonal issues?). 

I mean, to hell with revenge stories of the fat girl as she loses weight and gets “hot”. I want the fat girl to get it with the hot male interest, and other issues I want to relate with, because of the way I grew up - with family (and friends) concerns about me to get “pretty” = fixing stuff that isn’t easy to fix and might’ve been related all the same ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ - wasn’t helping me in the long term.

Yeah. I’m enjoying this book.

If FP is for my young adult/adult self (”self-love is still a long way to come up with”), I suppose Dumplin’ is more for my teenage self, to come up with terms I needed to hear back then - that self-acceptance and self-love were (AND ARE) a thing to be happy with oneself.

[thatsmrfantastic-archived]

                                               ENDGAME VERSE                     WARNING !!!!! Movie Spoilers Below !!!!

The Infinity War takes it’s greatest toll on our first superhero family. Half of what once was, is no more. Four no longer Four but Two. While they fought hard, Thanos still won. Shortly after the snap Ben and Johnny both turned to dust, but the grief doesn’t end there. Franklin and Valeria Richards, Reed and Sue’s two children were among the few who had a shot at beating the great conqueror. Like most young early teens not fully grown into their powers they lost control and made mistakes. But that left Thanos, grieving the loss of his children Gamora, Corvus, Cull Obsidian and Proxima in the war, who in turn took an interest in these two powerful young adults. He saw a second chance. To be the father of a great empire he never got to be, and he disappeared that day, with them.

Thanos took with him Reed and Sue’s children and entire world. When Captain Marvel returned with Tony, like the other Avengers there was never a question. They were going to get their children back.

But upon rallying with the avengers and heading out to find Thanos, before they can find out what happened to the stones and their children....Thor happens. Beheading the Mad Titan and effectively losing any hope of finding out what might have become of their kids. Reed breaks down, Sue breaks down. That’s it. Their family, their entire world is gone and for once Reed can’t fix it.

Years later, the world is still recovering. No one has seen or heard from the Richards since they sold the Baxter Building and left for God knows where. The Avengers have tried, time and time again but no one’s heard from Reed and Sue and they doubt they even want to be found.

But then, everything changes again. With the reappearance of Scott Lang from the Quantum Realm, hope has been found again that they can go back in time and find the stones -- but first, they need to build the gate. Though it takes a lot of consideration, Tony cracks time travel and agrees to come back and help but knows if they’re going to have any shot at building this thing properly he needs to work with the man who in elementary school was PIONEERING a project like this.

Out of anyone that he’d expect to possibly be the one to find him, Reed never expected Tony. Sue and Reed had retired to a log cabin out on a lake in the middle of no where to get away from the glaring reality that was their new world. And Tony just about thinks they’re too emotionally spent and tired to possibly fight for this again, but Tony and Sue are pleasantly surprised when Reed reveals in the basement of their cabin he’d been working on his own research and that he hasn’t....he hasn’t lost hope that they’d be able to get their friends, family, and children back one day.

Sue and Reed go with the avengers back in time. While the others carry out their missions they join up with Nebula and Rhodey to go and retrieve the power stone from Morag back in 2014 before Quill can steal it. Sue, Reed, and Rhodey returns to the present with the Power Stone. When Nebula does not return right away Reed begins to suspect something but keeps it to himself, just keeping a close eye on her until the others return.

Reuniting in the present, the Avengers create a new gauntlet. Banner volunteers to wield it, stating that he's the only one who can withstand the injuries that will follow, and uses it to restore all those whom Thanos had disintegrated. Reed realizes Past Nebula is not Present Nebula too late unfortunately, as she uses the time machine to transport Thanos and his warship to the present, who launches an attack on the Avengers' compound. Stretching himself to extreme proportions, in addition to Susan just barely able to throw up a protective barrier in time around some of their friends, they all barely survive the blast and the final battle with Thanos’ army begins.

Reed and Sue see Johnny and Ben come through the portals with Dr. Strange and the other heroes and they all rush together for a short lived group hug.

After that they fight hard as a team. It’s just like old times. When Reed and Susan get their chance, they exchange blows with Thanos, all the while on the war path to find their kids until Thanos gets a hold of Reed, about to tear him in two when gazes pan to the two small figures emerging from Thanos’ warship discarding the corpses of alien creatures, hand in hand, an older blonde boy and girl who’s eyes glow as they send Thanos flying away from their parents towards Captain America and Thor as Sue and Reed rush forward to drop to their knees and embrace their children.

And just like that as soon as it began the battle’s over. The smoke clears. But once again, friends were lost. Though Clint and Reed’s family might once again be whole it was at the sacrifice of Tony’s. And he’ll always be heartbroken and grateful over that. If I ever interact with any Tony’s we can always do a canon divergent ending where Tony survives and of course depending on the relationship I have with your character, we can discuss changes but this is my base Endgame verse to get an idea and go off of.

oH and Victor probably got snapped too in my verse. Either that or he OTL finally decided my babies had lost enough and effectively decided to end his feud in this verse with Reed and they were probably two old men that went fishing every once in a while post-snap apocalypse style :’v  

[senpai-writes]

Okay... I dont know how much you can handel if not pick a few from either. So out of the Captians and Setters who would adore or be concered for a GF that like riding roller coasters, but will grip for her life while screaming her poor little lungs out and occationally cry. I just recently visted a amusement park with my friends and thought of this as a great ask idea. Also this is every bit me...OTL save me~! Thank you!!!

I freaking hate rides cause I get motion sickness on them or have a panic attack, I can’t even ride that stupid boat that goes back and forth! I like amusement parks but there’s no point in me going if I’m not gonna ride the rides. Sigh, Disney World is not in my future. 

Daichi

Holds on to you for dear life bc deep down he too is terrified. 

Tries to calm you down the best that he can!

Holds your hand before you guys take off!

Sugawara

Has a lot of fun & secretly wishes you were having a good time too but kinda feels guilty he made you go on the ride lol.

Wraps his arms around you and attempts to tell you a funny story that happened at school the other day.

You can’t hear him over the sounds of your own screaming RIP.

Bokuto

Screaming the entire time bc he didn’t realize the ride would be so scary.

“(Y/n)-chan save me!!” Yells right in your ear and starts hanging onto you for dear life and prays you’ll make it out alive.

You slowly start feeling better though because your boyfriend is dramatic. “You’re the guy, save me instead!”

Akaashi

Holds your hand as well and rubs his thumb against yours. I freaking love when guys do that like yes rub my thumb all day, I know that sounds weird. 

If that doesn’t work then he’ll apologize once the rides over for asking you to go on it with him.

Buys you something sweet afterwards to make it up to you!

Kuroo

My dude just laughs, laughs because he thinks it’s quite comically about how you’re freaking out. 

“Stop laughing at me and get me off of here!” You say while crying, which makes him want to test/pick on you even more.

Wraps his arm around you and squeezes your shoulder for comfort. He feels slightly guilty about it later on and tries to make up for it by being extra affectionate later that day.

Kenma

Really doesn’t react much tbh, I mean he’s al little nervous for the ride but he’s fine for the most part.

Didn’t expect you to get so worried about it but wishes now that y’all hadn’t gotten on.

Feels bad for you so as an apology (since he’s not good at comforting) he lets you play his video game!

Oikawa

Lets you hang onto him the entire ride, he really enjoys it, it makes him feel manly.

Hides the fact that he’s also really nervous but doesn’t show it! That is until he had to hurry to the restroom to throw up lol.

Actually thinks it’s super cute when you’re scared/scream. Loves having you rely on his when you’re freaked out! Possibly sneaks in a kiss to stop you from crying ;)

Futakuchi

Loves. Your. Girly. Scream. 

He feels super hyped up and lets you snuggle up to him as much as you want.

Strokes your hair after the ride and tells you everything’s gonna be ok and that he’ll never make you do that again. 

Kanji

Screams with you to make you feel better, definitely not bc he’s scared or anything...

Regrets the entire experience and holds your hand super tight throughout the ride.

Practically covers your head with his arms when you’re fixing to plummet down the roller coaster. 

Ushijima

Just kind of stares at you but pats your head thinking it might help.

Starts telling you about ways to fix motion sickness, to your surprise however because he’s not yelling or anything while he’s on the ride. 

Sometimes you wonder if he’s human but you definitely appreciate Ushijima and his quirky ways.

Semi

Talks you down hoping you’ll relax a little.

Didn’t realize how scared you’d be but tbh he kinda likes it. He thinks you’re cute in all elements and it makes him want to take care of you!

Plants tiny kisses (timidly) once the roller coaster is over, “Shhh...let me protect you.” Blushes after saying something so cheesy!

Thanks for requesting!

[bishiglomper]

I bought more stuffing for my gengar. Which i had to start over from scratch. 😭 the ball had air pockets I couldn't fix. So I made a new ball. Made a tight ball out of batting and then covered it in a later of stuffing for bulk and attachive-ness.

I made the legs. Which are 90% done. I have to condense the shit out of the heels cause they stick out too far. But then they should be ready for color. I started the tail. Once I add the ears itll be around a foot tall. 😋

One leg was being so fucking difficult. I had to sew it on before i could get it to cooperate. Sewing stuffing onto stuffing doesn't work well. 😶

I love the thing so flippin' much already 😖

I'm glad I had that batting. It makes a good base. And it's good for strengthening attachments. I used some strips to adhere the tail. Hopefully it'll be nice and sturdy and not fall off once it's done. If I'm not TOO attached...👀 I might send it to that art show. Let it be handled.

I dont know how many hours it took me but at least 2.5 movies worth. 😶

My arm is gonna fall off. That stabbing motion. For like 6 hours. (maybe 8?) My shoulder is killing me.

This hyper focus thing i get during projects. Its so painful afterwards. 😂 My foot was swollen to the point that it hurt to stand on it. My arm is going to be completely unusable tomorrow. I'm so stiff omfg

I forgot to take a wip pic OTL

[flyingsassysaddles]

The Recruitment of a Greek Soldier

Notes: This is the @weekofhetalia Secret Santa gift for @guiltipanda and I just have to say I’M SO FREAKING SORRY THIS IS SO LATE OTL please accept my apologies I had a few personal problems and my laptop was acting weird, but that’s really no excuse, so I’m so, so sorry you had to wait so long, please accept my apology ;;v;; 

Character Notes: Heracles is aph Greece, Sideris is aph Cyprus,  and their mother is aph Ancient Greece! No pairings, historical Hetalia

Historical Notes: “At early October 1912, Gendarmerie Major Spyros Spyromilios, a native of Himara, moved to the Greek island Corfu, opposite Himara. His mission was to organize groups of volunteers consisting of northern Epirus Greeks. He also received orders from the Greek government to communicate with the local Albanian beys of the surrounding regions. This unit was later reinforced by additional 200 Greek volunteers from Crete sent by General Konstantinos Sapountzakis, commander of the Greek army in Epirus front.” - via Wikipedia, Himara Revolt of 1912. Sources: *  *  *  *  

Summary: Heracles is packing his things before heading off to the recruitment station in Corfu, to fight in the war and take back Himara. He stumbles upon a few memories of home and his mother on his way out the door.

Happy Reading!

____

   Heracles hesitated when his hands brushed his favorite jacket, bought as a name day gift from his little brother and hemmed by his mother for many days after. It was a worn, gray thing, one that barely kept up with his growth into the 19-year-old man he was that night, but he knew that any type of clothing, especially in October, would be crucial and wanted in the army, even if it was just a volunteer position. He stashed the jacket into the loose sack with the rest of his clothing, haphazardly shoving spare pants and socks into the bag before standing up and throwing it over his shoulder. He noted how surprisingly light the sack was as he strode over to the door, ready to pick up some food and dash out the door before anyone woke up to the sound of his hurried footsteps.

As the young man grabbed a piece of slightly stale bread, his mind wandered to the day he and his little brother had gone to the marketplace, and with the pitter patter of the rain and the alertness that came with that jittery adrenaline, it didn’t much seem that distant of a memory.

“Heracles!” the boy shouted, shoving the cap harder on his head through the wild wind and grinning at his taller brother who dashed across the street to meet him. “Did you see that?!”

“I saw it, Sideris, but if Mama did she would have a heart attack. You can't just cross the street like that, there are horses and things that can run you over,” Heracles sighed for the millionth time before rustling the 7 year old’s hair. “Let’s just get the bread and go back home.” He looked up at the sky and added, “Before the storm come and blows us away.”

“That can’t happen,” Sideris ordered as they jogged to the best bakery in all of Corfu. “Wind can’t blow people away!”

“Tell that to Theo Achilles, he got blown off a cliff once.”

Sideris’s eyes widened as the wind screeched into the alleyway and crawled up the walls, before he hastily said, “No he didn’t!”

“Yeah, he did. Theia Maria told me.”

“Nu-uh!”

“Yu-huh!”

“Nu-uh!”

“Well I’m older so I know better than you, so I’m right anyway,” Heracles sniffed, putting his long hair behind his ears and wishing he brought a hairband to stop the whipping strands that blocked his view. The two stopped in front of a sign after a few quick turns and dashed inside.

“Well if it isn’t the little street urchins of Corfu! What can I get for you today?” the baker said, smiling at his frequent customers and gesturing to the fresh pile of bread and treats on the wall. “You’re just in time, we have some fresh koulourakia in the ovens that’ll be ready in just a moment!”

“Hello, sir!” Sideris chirped, waving at their old friend before saying, “Some bread please!”

“Let me do the ordering, Mama gave me the money,” Heracles mumbled but nodded his agreement before the baker grabbed a piece of bread off the walls.

“How many?”

“One,” Heracles replied and plucked out a few drachmas from his pocket. Without even asking the price he plopped the money on the counter and the 10-year-old waited for the baker to hand over the bread.

“Here you go, kids,” the baker chirped. “Are you sure you don’t want any koulourakia? They might go to waste because of this wild storm we’re having, so consider them half off!”

“No thank-” Heracles started before catching a glimpse of his brother’s wide puppy eyes.

“Please, Heracles? Just one?” Using the baby-brother face that he’d always been weak to, Heracles gave in and dug a few more drachmas out of his pocket. He’d have to save up his money next month.

Koulourakia now in hand, the two boys skipped out of the delicious haven of sweets and bread and chomped on the braided cookies while dodging the bullets of horses and ragged cars, splashing in puddles and following the wild wind home.

Heracles was jogged out of his memory when the house shuddered from a sudden gust of wind, and he cursed himself for his foolishness for wasting time like this. He was supposed to be at the recruitment center already, Major Spyromilios was leaving for mainland Greece the following morning, and like hell he was going to be left behind!

He snatched a cask of alcohol from the top cupboard where his mother always hid it and unscrewed the top, taking a sniff of the content inside before being assured that, yes, there was ouzo and a speck of whiskey in the old jug. He stuffed that in the sack as well, and as the rain hammered on the tiles and dripped onto the one spot on the floor they never fixed, his mind drifted once more to the first time he drank alcohol, smiling a bit as the memory popped into his thoughts.

Sideris was watching starstruck as Heracles held up the bottle, shaking it a bit like a professional and sniffing the drink before saying, “Ah yes, fine ouzo indeed.”

“How do you know?” his brother said in a hushed voice, speaking low in fear that their mother would come barging into their room and see they broke into her cabinet.

“It smells wifty.”

“That’s not a real word!” he huffed

“How do you know?” He paused for a moment as his younger brother stuttered before muttering that he was still right, though Heracles still felt a gloating sense of satisfaction, even though he didn’t know what their mother's throwaway term meant either.

“What does it taste like?” he said with wide eyes.

“I haven’t tried it yet, stupid.” The 14-year-old rolled his eyes and held the bottle leisurely. “I’ll drink it whenever I want to.” His brother sat there for a few moments before his impatience broke the silence once again.

“Can you try it now?”

“No.”

“Now?”

“No.”

A few seconds passed. “Now?”

“Alright, I’ll try it! But only because you keep insisting.” Heracles sniffed the bottle again before taking a deep breath. It smelled somewhat like grapes, though nothing like the wine their mother would offer time to time. After a few seconds of building up his courage, the teenager gulped down the all the liquor in the small bottle and gagged. “God, what is that?!”

“It doesn’t taste good?”

“What do you think?!” Heracles gagged, passing the drink to his little brother. “It tastes like that god awful licorice you can get from the street stands at the platia!”

“I love licorice,” Sideris considered thoughtfully before shrugging and taking a gulp himself. After letting the taste set in for a few seconds he raised an eyebrow at his almost heaving sibling. “It doesn’t taste that bad, Heracles.”

“It tastes like dog feet!”

“It tastes like candy and you know it.”

“Yeah, BAD candy. You can have the rest, bleh.”

“Mama said every Greek loves ouzo, so you must be broken or something. Are you sure you don’t want to try it again?”

“I’d rather kiss the Turk that killed Theo Achilles than drink that garbage.”

“So he didn’t die from the wind!”

“Of course not, dummy. He died from a bullet when we tried to take Crete back. I think. Doesn’t matter, that stuff tastes like crocodile ass and I’m not drinking it.”

Sideris got quiet and looked at the container thoughtfully. “Turks killed Theo Achilles?”

“Yeah, the bastards.” After taking a look at his brother’s depressed face he rushed, “Don’t worry, we’ll get them back for it when we take over Anatolia and Macedonia and beat the Ottomans dead! And we’ll go to war and get our land back and avenge Theo Achilles. Now, throw that gunk away or something before I chucked it out of a window.”

Sideris shrugged and doused the rest of the bottle. “It still tastes like candy,” he sighed disappointedly.

“Oh shut up.”

Heracles stared a the bottle in his hands, unaware that he had taken it out of the sack. It didn’t taste bad to him now that he had drunken it time and time again, but his little brother still was the one that worshipped the drink. He sighed and stashed the bottle away again, resolving to drink it on the road, and made one last circle around the kitchen for any food to take with him on the way to the recruiting station. Taking a few hair bands off the counters to tie back his brown hair and a pack of cards, Heracles started to head out towards the door.

One last memory waited for him in the doorway as his feet dragged on the wood and drew to a stop. A notch on the doorway, that was all. It was a notch their mother made when they bought a new door when some cannon or gun blew it off, back in the past. Heracles once again rubbed the notch for good luck, even giving a light knock as he willed his feet to move again. Still, the memory that haunted the doorway dripped over him and left him stranded in that single moment.

“What is it, Mama? Who are they?” Heracles whispered, watching the parade of soldiers and horses with wide eyes. Cannons and wagons and men marched past their little house on the main street, and his mother dived back inside, eyes wide. and hands shaking.

“It’s the soldiers, Heracles. They’ve come to fight for Greece against those who wish to harm us,” she smiled, but traces of fear lingered in her tugging hands and the way she ushered him away from the doorway.      

“Why are there so many?” he asked, cocking his head to the side and eyeing the proud soldiers in brilliant uniforms, the musicians that followed behind them, the glistening guns, and the way the woman on the street waved handkerchiefs and smiled with something lustful in their eyes. “Why did they come to Corfu?”

“This island is valuable, and they want to show off. Now come inside.”

“I don’t want to,” he objected, waving his mother’s hands away before rushing down the steps, eyes filled with the shiny picture of glory in front of him. “Did they come to kill the Turks?”

“Nonsense! There are no Turks here, at least, not as many. Please, Heracles, come inside,” she whispered, her pleading eyes turning him away from the pretty illusion in front of him and dragging him inside the old house.

“Why can’t I watch them?” He jerked his arm away from her in defiance as the door closed and she held him, taking a step back and crossing his arms, his eyes dancing with a religious fervor. “It’s just the army, Mama. I’m 15, you can’t order me around like a child!”

His mother became silent, wringing her hands and pulling her scarf tighter over her head. She stepped towards him cautiously,  taking his hands and bringing him in close.

“My Heracles,” she managed to get out from her suddenly choked throat, “Don’t you see?” She touched her forehead with his, her beautiful oldest son, who looked so much like his father, and she whispered, “If you learn to love them so much, I’m afraid one say they might steal you away from me.” She left the words stuck in her throat, but they still rang in the air.

I don’t want you to die.

Heracles jerked his hand away from the wood, wiping the somehow tainted hand on his pants and jumping down the steps. He let himself have one last look at the house behind him, taking in the squat roof, the narrow walls, the weathered steps. Finding himself blinking back a strange prickling in his eyes, he turned away, following the road to the recruitment station, choosing the path of the soldier, the man who would fight for his country in the name of the ancestors that his mother wore on her shawl, the path of a volunteer for the battles in the north, to fight in the great Balkan War in 1912.

With his back turned, he never saw a pair of tired, crying eyes behind the window of his mother’s room, or the brown hair of an abandoned brother left alone on the bedroom floor.