#(i think it was time machine anyway. and there was a different recording of voices but it's. gone?????? i never got to hear it?? but anyway | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

serenelystrange · 3 months ago

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At AO3, or under the cut!

Notes:

Listen. These boys are idiots, and I love them so much. This is just an absurd situation and a whole lot of fluff. I regret nothing!

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“You know those scenes in the movies?” Eddie asks, “where there’s the obnoxious record-scratch, and then the main dumbass is like “I bet you’re wondering how I ended up here?””

Buck laughs, their shoulders brushing against each other from where they’re sitting side by side on one of the two sleeping cots that Bobby managed to fit into the designated Quiet Room at the station.

“Like in Thor?” Buck asks, leaning his back against the smooth wood paneling of the wall.

Eddie nods.

“Exactly,” he says. “This feels like one of those. Who the hell gets quarantined inside an anxiety room four years after a global pandemic?”

Buck snorts a laugh, eyes still closed.

“I think chemical warfare is a little different than Covid,” he says, sounding disturbingly unbothered by the whole thing.

Eddie makes a mental note to bug him about his therapy if they don’t die in this increasingly stifling room.

“We don’t know that it was anything like that,” Eddie says, trying to be the voice of reason. “It was probably just some asshole’s idea of a prank.”

“Exploding unidentified powder from a box of chocolates is a hell of a prank,” Buck says. “And you saw the machine when they scanned us.”

“It did have a lot of red lights,” Eddie concedes. “The entire station scrambling back in horror didn’t help, either.”

Buck laughs again, a dry thing, and pulls his head away from the wall, leaning his whole body back against it instead.

“At least we have water?” he asks, gesturing to the case of bottled water on the floor by their cots.

“We won’t die of thirst before whatever this poison is kills us,” Eddie agrees. “That’s something I guess.”

He leans back then, pressing into the wall, trying to calm his racing heart.

Beside him, Buck inches just a tiny bit closer, until they’re touching from shoulders to elbows, and nudges him gently.

“We’re gonna be fine,” he says, and something about how earnestly he seems to believe it allows Eddie to catch his breath, even if his mind is still racing almost as fast as his heart.

“Christopher,” he says, voice cracking around just the word.

“Is having a great time with Maddie and Chim and Jee,” Buck says, soothingly. “He doesn’t know anything except that we got stuck on a long call out. He won’t even be worried.”

“I know,” Eddie says, quietly.

“You’ll be home by breakfast,” Buck says. “As soon as whatever government lab ran off with those samples clears us, we can get the hell out of here.”

“Don’t you think for a minute you’re not following me home,” Eddie says with a conviction Buck rarely hears outside of a risky rescue scene.

“Obviously,” Buck says, turning to look at Eddie’s serious expression for a moment and giving him a little smile. “The loft is too quiet anyway.”

Before Eddie can reply, his phone is ringing and Bobby’s name flashes on the screen. Sitting up straighter he answers the call, putting it on speaker and holding it between him and Buck.

“Hey, Bobby,” he says. “Please tell me we’re not dying of anthrax or something.”

They hear a laugh in the background that sounds suspiciously like Hen, who was supposed to have gone home to her wife hours ago.

“Good news and bad new, boys,” Bobby says, sounding the kind of bone-deep tired Eddie can feel on a molecular level.

“Good news first, please,” Buck says, “I’d love some good news.”

“Good news is that the powder samples we gathered haven’t been identified as any known poison or otherwise bio-chemical weapon.”

“That’s good, then!” Buck says, leaning his whole body towards the phone as he speaks. “That means we can leave soon, right?”

Beside him, Eddie shakes his head silently and waits.

“Wait,” Buck says, catching up. “What’s the bad news?”

“The bad news,” Bobby says, “is that the powder samples we gathered haven’t been identified as any known poison or otherwise bio-chemical weapon.”

“There it is,” Eddie says, thudding his head dully against the wall in frustration.

“So until we can make sure whatever you were dosed with is harmless, I’m afraid you’re stuck.”

“Not cool,” Buck says, sighing.

“Hang in there,” Bobby says, and then there’s a noise of shuffling as someone takes the phone from him.

“You guys having any weird symptoms?” Hen asks, sounding like she’s walking as far from the crowd of people as she can. “Troubling breathing, loss of vision, bleeding out of any orifices, stuff like that?

“Jesus, Hen,” Eddie says with mild horror. “No, I haven’t felt anything weird.”

“Buck?” Hen asks, and Buck shakes his head before seemingly remembering she cant see him.

“I’m good,” he says. “Mostly just feeling bored, and kinda hot. Actually, really hot. Why is it so hot in here?”

“They had to cut the AC so it doesn’t spread whatever that stuff is around,” Hen says with an apologetic tone.

“Oh good,” Bucks says, laughing slightly at Eddie’s bewildered look. “It means it’s actually hot, not that I have a super high fever.”

“When you put it like that,” Eddie says, shrugging.

“We’ll call you back as soon as we know anything,” Hen says, “it’s going to be just fine.”

She hangs up before either of them can respond or protest, not that it would do any good anyway.

Eddie shoves his phone back in his pocket and tries to stretch out his tense shoulders.

“Where are you even going?” Buck asks, watching with amusement as Eddie stands up.

“I’m going to take a nap and hope this whole thing is over when I wake up,” Eddie says, like the consummate millennial with poor coping strategies that he is.

He moves the short span of space over to the other cot and lays down, still facing Buck, and closes his eyes.

“Wait,” Buck says, grabbing the hoodie he had pulled off earlier and rolling it up into something vaguely resembling a pillow. “Here. You don’t need a crick in your neck on top of all of this.”

Eddie opens his eyes long enough to take the makeshift pillow and tuck it under his head, the crashing anxiety adrenaline making him unbearably sleepy all at once.

“Thank you,” he says as his eyes close again. “Wake me up if you start dying or something, ok?”

“Sure,” Buck says, and Eddie just knows if he could open his eyes, he’d see Buck’s somber gaze on him even as he laughs.

The crash wins out before he can even try, and everything goes blessedly quiet.

Eddie is woken up by the loud ringing of Buck’s phone, and he opens his eyes as Buck answers, unaware he’s awake.

“Hey, Cap,” he says quietly, as if not to wake Eddie, and Eddie can’t help but feel warmed by the casual consideration.

He can’t tell what Bobby is saying, and Buck’s face is surprisingly blank as he listens briefly before saying goodbye and hanging up, dropping the phone down beside him.

“How long’s it been?” Eddie asks, voice raspy and all sense of time lost.

“Hey,” Buck says, “didn’t mean to wake you up. It’s been like,” he looks down briefly at the phone beside him, “almost two hours.”

“Shit,” Eddie says. He hadn’t expected to actually be able to sleep for that long. “I guess that means they still have no idea what that shit was?”

Buck shakes his head, slumping down and bracing his elbows on his knees. “They’re pretty sure it’s just a bunch of harmless things mixed together, but it’s still setting off the alarms, so they say we have to be in here at least a full twenty four hours without symptoms before they clear us.”

“Well, fuck,” Eddie says.

“Pretty much,” Bucks agrees. “It’s weird not being able to hear them all out there, even though we know they’re only a door away.”

“Guess the soundproof guy did a good job for the Quiet Room,” Eddie says wryly. “I don’t think madness by way of seclusion was something they considered.”

“Good news is it’s already been like ten hours,” Buck says. “We can handle another 14. Cap’s gonna bring us some protein bars, too.”

“Those things taste like chocolate chalk,” Eddie says, fully aware he’s pouting and not caring one bit.

“I know,” Buck says. “But they’re trying to prevent a, uhhh, well, a shitting-in-a-bucket situation.”

Eddie can’t help it, he bursts into laughter at that, shaking the whole cot with it.

“At least we can piss into the empty bottles,” he says, “way better than a piss bucket.”

“Go team external genitalia, I guess,” Buck says, snickering at the absurdity of the situation.

“Penis power?” Eddie asks, still cackling.

Buck rolls his eyes and shakes his head fondly.

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh, now you’re too mature for dick jokes?” Eddie teases. “You’d think you’d be twice as likely to use them now, considering, you know..”

“My bisexuality?” Buck asks, already knowing the answer. “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe so,” Eddie says. “But it’s still funny.”

“Shut up,” Bucks says, laughing despite himself.

The door creaks open then, and a hazmat-suited hand slides a LAFD backpack into the room before quickly closing the door again.

“Ooh, snacks!” Buck says, scooping up the bag with delight. “Oh and look, Hen let us borrow her iPad. We can watch a movie!”

“Mm,” Eddie says, sitting up sluggishly and taking the protein bar Buck offers him with a mumbled thank you.

“Your sugar is probably too low,” Buck says with concern. “Eat that before you pass out again.”

“Yes, dad,” Eddie huffs, unwrapping the bar and taking a big bite while pointedly glaring at Buck.

Which is when he sees a series of rapid-fire expressions flash across Buck’s face, a flush spreading across his cheeks.

“What?” Eddie asks, swallowing his bite and looking over at Buck in confusion. “You’re totally the Dad Friend when you want to be.”

“It’s, uhh,” Buck stammers, “Tommy used to… well, we used to, you know.”

“Have lots of sex?” Eddie asks, amused. “I figured when you showed up looking like you fought Dracula and survived, yeah. So what?”

Buck blushes impossibly deeper, which only serves to raise Eddie’s curiosity.

“He kinda had a thing for me calling him Daddy,” Buck says in a rush, looking anywhere but at Eddie. “And I guess now I have like a Pavlov response to it. Sorry.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie says, practically wheezing with laughter, “this is hilarious, don’t be sorry. Plus, there’s a big difference between Dad and Daddy.”

“Shut uuuuup,” Buck whines, still avoiding Eddie’s face. He shifts in his seat then, just enough that Eddie can’t help but follow the motion down with his eyes and notice the awkward way that Buck is holding his hands in his lap.

“Are you…” Eddie asks, suddenly finding his own face flushing. “Did you get a hard-on just from da… that word?”

“Just give me a minute,” Buck says, neither confirming, denying, or making eye contact.

“How long has it been since you guys broke up, again?” Eddie asks, ignoring the elephant trunk in the room for the time being. Because he’s a totally mature and unaffected bro, obviously.

“About a month,” Buck says, eyes still trained on the wall somewhere above Eddie’s head.

“And you haven’t hooked up with anyone else yet?” Eddie asks, genuinely curious. “You were so excited to explore the whole queer men scene.”

“Yeah, well,” Buck says, taking a deep breath and meeting Eddie’s eyes finally. “Turns out the queer hookup scene is just as fun as the straight one. And just as unfulfilling, too.”

“Aw,” Eddie teases him gently, “look at you in your serious relationship era. Firehose would be so proud. Or appalled. I never did get to meet him.”

“First of all,” Buck huffs. “You need to stop scrolling through tiktok when you think nobody knows you are. Second, be glad you didn’t meet him, he was a dickhead. I was a dickhead.”

“Nah,” Eddie says, easily. “From what Hen and Chim tell me, you were just a fuckboi with an attitude and a heart of gold. That’s like.. several levels below dickhead.”

“Fuckboi with a heart of gold,” Buck muses, laughing again. “I should get that embroidered on a pillow or something. You know, for the memories.”

“Christmas gift idea right there,” Eddie agrees, grinning.

Buck ignores him in favor of eating his own protein bar, but Eddie takes the amused look in his eyes as a win anyway.

“What are we at now?” Buck asks, several hours of fitful naps and random conversation later.

“Seventeen hours,” Eddie says, standing up to stretch out as much as he can in the crowded room. “Come on, stand up and walk a little, you have a history of blood clots.”

“It was one time,” Buck sighs, but he gets up and does as he’s told, following Eddie around the room in an approximation of the saddest conga-line ever.

When they’re done, he slumps back onto his cot and gives Eddie a pitiful look.

“It’s still so hot in here,” he says. “And the little bit of air they keep opening the door for is not nearly enough.”

“Better than the desert,” Eddie says, shrugging. “At least nobody is shooting at us.”

“Ugh,” Buck groans, “don’t be all logical and shit. I’m sweltering here.”

He tugs at his LAFD long-sleeve button up, shoving the sleeves up to his elbows.

Eddie looks at him with disbelief and shakes his head.

“Just take off the shirt, dumbass. Not like we haven’t all seen each other in less.”

“I..” Buck says, “I honestly didn’t even think about it. You’re a genius.”

“Just a man in a t-shirt,” Eddie laughs.

Buck scrambles out of his shirt, tossing it to the floor, leaving him in only a close-fitting grey tank top that clings to the heat of his body.

Eddie thinks suddenly that he should probably try to get some more sleep. Laying down and rolling onto his stomach, he pillows his head again on the rolled up hoodie and forces himself to look away from Buck and close his eyes.

Buck is asleep the next time Eddie wakes up, laying only inches away from Eddie on his own cot. His hand, however, is wrapped firmly around Eddie’s wrist where it lays by his side.

“What?” Eddie sleepily asks, but he gets no answer from Buck. When he tries to pull away, Buck’s hold flexes, gripping his wrist tighter and rubbing his thumb across the sudden uptick in Eddie’s pulse.

“I’m ok, Buck,” Eddie says softly, reaching out and brushing his fingers through the curls laying across his forehead. “Still breathing, I promise.”

Even though he doesn’t wake, Buck seems to hear him, and his grip loosens but doesn’t let go. Eddie considers waking him up or pulling out of his grasp with force, but refrains. He remembers in vivid detail the last time he tried to find Buck’s pulse, and for a terrible three minutes and seventeen seconds, it was gone.

Closing his eyes again, he steadies his breathing and lets Buck’s solid hold lull him back to sleep.

Eddie isn’t sure how long it’s been the next time he wakes up, but he figures they still have a while to go if nobody has called them yet. He opens his eyes to see Buck still laying across from him, face set in a soft expression.

“Found the dimmer switch,” he says, and ah, that explains why the room isn’t as bright as it had been up until now.

“Is it night time?” Eddie asks.

“Late afternoon,” Buck says, “we’re at 22 hours.”

“Final stretch,” Eddie says, grinning. “Still no symptoms?”

Buck shakes his head. “You?”

“Only the effects of being in my thirties and sleeping on a cot,” Eddie says.

“Yeah, my bad knee does not love this,” Buck says, face smushing against the cot as he speaks.

“You should take your hoodie back,” Eddie says, realizing he’s been using it the whole time. “It’s a pretty good pillow, actually.”

“Nah,” Buck says. “You looked comfy, and we’re almost out of here anyway.”

Eddie shrugs in defeat, still too lulled by the faux-late-night atmosphere to really protest.

They’re quiet for a few minutes, just resting, eyes not on each other but not avoiding each other either.

“Can I ask you something?” Buck says, still in a near-whisper.

Eddie looks back over to him, tucking one arm up under his makeshift pillow and giving Buck his full attention.

“Of course,” Eddie says, just as quietly.

“Do you ever think that..” Buck trails off for a moment, but Eddie knows him well enough to wait. “Do you ever think we’re closer than best friends should be?”

“What?” Eddie asks, blinking in surprise. Of all the things Buck could have said, this wasn’t even on his list of possibilities. “Of course not. Where did that even come from?”

“Maddie,” Buck says, and Eddie feels a flare of anger towards her before Buck shakes his head.

“Not like that,” he continues. “She was just talking about how great it was that you and I had each other, and how she never had such a good friend like that growing up.”

“Neither did I,” Eddie says. “I mean, I had friends, even guys I’d call best friends over the years. But not like this, you know?”

“I don’t,” Buck says, carefully. “I never had a best friend before you, besides my sister, and she practically raised me. It wasn’t until we were talking about her experience that I realized that maybe we are. Too close, I mean, for friends.”

“Best friends,” Eddie says, swallowing around the wave of panic in his throat. “That’s what makes it special, asshole.”

Buck laughs for a moment before leaning up and resting his head on one elbow.

“Best friends,” Buck agrees, before meeting and holding Eddie’s gaze with a serious look. “Do you ever think about what if we, if we were..more?”

“Yeah, Buck,” Eddie says, truth spilling from his lips before he can stop them. “I think about it all the time, actually.”

Buck’s eyes widen in surprise before he gives Eddie an outraged look.

“What the fuck!” he says. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“You might not know this,” Eddie says, “but Catholic guilt is a damn good repressor.”

“Are you even attracted to men?” Buck asks, still somewhat in shock.

Eddie shrugs again.

“I don’t know, maybe? Probably. Definitely attracted to you, though.”

Buck gapes.

“SINCE WHEN.”

Eddie laughs ruefully and closes his eyes for a moment before looking back at Buck.

“Since I admitted it to myself?” Eddie says. “Probably a year or so.”

“A YEAR?” Buck whisper-yells. “A YEAR, EDDIE?”

“While I was still in denial?” Eddie continues, “Probably about the time you tried to run me out of the station with your posturing and stupid calendar pictures.”

“The day we met??” Buck asks, going from outraged to dumbfounded in a split-second. “I was such a jerk to you, what the hell?”

Eddie, gathering all the courage of a thousand repressed sleepless nights, looks straight at Buck with a downright devious smirk before speaking.

“Wanted to push you to your knees in the showers,” he admits, watching with delight as Buck’s skin flushes pink. “Or drop to mine, I really wasn’t picky about my fantasies. Even if I did feel guilty about them after I got off.”

“You are scandalous, Eddie Diaz,” Buck says with a gasp, “I am scandalized!”

“Ok, Bridgerton,” Eddie laughs. “It’s not like I stole your virtue or something.”

“I’d give it to you willingly if I could,” Buck says, “if that was a thing that I even believed in.”

“Shit,” Eddie says, “I’m trying to be sexy here and you go and be all sweet. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Buck is the one to smirk then, as he reaches over to Eddie’s cot and hooks his fingers into the stretch of space between canvas and frame, pulling the entire thing across the floor until it’s flush with his.

Eddie is almost ashamed of how hot he finds that, but only almost.

“You should kiss me about it,” Buck says. “And maybe marry me one day. But we can work up to that.”

Eddie’s still laughing as he pulls Buck down on top of him by the neckline of his stupid tight tank top and kisses him soundly.

“We could’ve been doing this for years,” Buck says, pulling away from Eddie’s lips briefly.

“Then why are you talking instead of kissing me?” Eddie snarks, pulling up his knees and spreading them so that Buck can nestle between them properly.

“Fuck,” Buck stutters as he feels the heat of Eddie’s body lining up with his own. “You make a good point.”

He moves from Eddie’s lips down to his neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bites as he goes, awkwardly bent on the cot and not caring even one little bit. Eddie threads his fingers through his hair, gripping the sweaty curls desperately as Buck bites down gently against his jugular. His other hand clings to the back of Buck’s tank top, wishing desperately they were home in his bed where they could have no clothing between them.

“Buck,” Eddie says, gasping when Buck just grinds against him in response, still intent on marking up any skin he can reach. “Buck,” he says again, “we need to stop.”

Buck stops, breathing heavily as he braces himself on his arms and looks down at Eddie.

“What, why?” he asks. “I thought you were into it.”

“I am very into it,” Eddie assures him. “But I really don’t want our first time to be barely one room over from our entire firehouse.”

Buck pouts playfully, and leans his head down to nuzzle Eddie’s throat. “Soundproof room, remember?”

“Mandatory medical check and scrub down when we leave,” Eddie counters. “Do you want to explain this to the whole team?”

“Ugh,” Buck says, groaning in defeat. “Fine, you’re right. Can we at least cuddle still?”

“Yeah, Buck,” Eddie says with a laugh, “koala it up, as long as the cot will hold us both up anyway. We might need to turn on our sides if you want me to keep breathing though.”

“I do like you breathing,” Buck says, moving them around like ragdolls with no trouble, until he’s curled around Eddie’s back, holding him securely against his chest.

“You know,” Buck says after a few minutes of quiet cuddling, “if you let me suck you off, there wouldn’t be a mess.”

“Don’t fucking tempt me, Buckley,” Eddie says, swatting at Buck’s hand when it starts trailing down his chest towards his pants.

Buck laughs but rests his hand against Eddie’s chest again, bending his head slightly to press a kiss against Eddie’s neck.

“Sorry,” he whispers, not sounding sorry at all.

“When we get home,” Eddie says, squeezing Buck’s hand under his own. “We have less than an hour left, I think we can do it.”

“I’d wait forever, Eds,” Buck says easily, as if he’s talking about the inevitability of the rising sun, or of the pull of the moon to the tides.

Then again, Eddie muses as he thinks back on the last seven years, maybe he is.

“I kind of really love you, you know,” Eddie says, brave in the darkness and in Buck’s arms.

“Well, that will be good for the wedding,” Buck teases. Eddie pinches his arm in retaliation, and he just laughs, chest shaking against Eddie’s back.

“I love you, too,” he says, “no kind of about it.”

“Good,” Eddie says, simply, because it is.

The End

#buddie #buddie fic #buck x eddie #evan buckley x eddie diaz #911 fic

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starrclown · 1 year ago

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☆Helluva Boss's human world I fear will cause problems in Hazbin☆

Matey's I feel like there is a issue we don't talk about. Helluva Boss's human world. Obviously the human world is supposed to resemble our world, it's Earth after all. This is the issue. What's the one thing about the people that could cause problems? The humans are insanely stupid.

(I wanna point out Random Game Critics video on Helluva Boss Season 2 episode 5. Bomb YouTube channel by the way, check him out he's funny. He points out that he believes that Helluva Boss's humans are so dumb to mimic Invader Zim. Incase you didn't know Moxxie's voice actor is Richard Horvitz, the voice actor who played Zim. Invader Zim is also Vivziepop's favorite cartoon. This is a theory I can absolutely believe.)

The humans on Earth are insanely stupid. The humans don't relize that demons are among them even though I.M.P does not disguise themselves. Martha was able to recognize I.M.P, the other humans cannot. The two inventors are also insanely goofy and cartoon like. The humans are insanely goofy and stupid. That's where I fear the problems could come in.

5 out of the 6 main casts in Hazbin Hotel were people. Alastor died in 1933, Angel Dust died in 1947, Nifty died in the 50's, Husk died in the 70's, and Vaggie died in 2014. I fear how goofy the human world is could affect the lives of the characters. And you could argue, "Oh, the humans are in OUR time period! 2020 to the modern day! We are pretty silly so it could be making fun of that!" Which yes, that could be it. Which is still a problem considering Vaggie died in 2014 and all the other sinners that died in the 2000's. While Helluva Boss could be making fun of modern day it's still a issue considering more modern day sinners. Also, some of the goofy humans are pretty old. Here, Lyle and Loopy. While we don't know how old they were when they accidentally aged themselves up but they looked to be in early to late 30's to 40's. That would mean they were born in 80's to 90's. That's pretty close to some of the sinners we know in the show died. (Velvette, Valentino, Husk.)

Another issue I have is the concept of what humans can do. If sinners are supposed to be mysterious that could possibly make deals with humans then the humans should be more realistic right? While we dont know if demons can communicate with humans but there always is a possibility. Mind you, Lyle and Loopy made a machine that could reverse your age. That's not realistic at all. And yes I know I know, it's a cartoon, and Helluva Boss and Hazbin won't reference each other but it's still a issue. The reason I have such a issue with this is because you have to remeber some of these characters lived through horrific events.

(Also let me get on record that I don't think that Vivziepop will make fun of horrific events. I'm stating this because if the humans are this goofy, I'm scared of how she'll treat the TIME PERIOD of the horrific event. Get it? Like seriously, Alastor, depending on how dark his skin was, would still go through segragation and racism considering his time period. Angel Dust could also be a person of color, so could Husk. Nifty and Vaggie were confirmed poc, Japanese and Salvadoran respectively. Like Angel and Husk, both are queer in different ways. Both would be HEAVILY discriminated against. Also, Angel's mafia background. Incase you guys don't know, homosexuality in the Italian mob is HEAVILY discriminated against and looked down apon. Recently Italian mobsters are allowed to be gay but they can still get beat up and killed for "flaunting" it. If Angel's family is as mean as Vivzie has described them then there is no way Angel would be able to be feminine in anyway, or show any "gay traits." Seriously this was the 1940's. Thats whne the bible had the bible changed to 'man shall not lay with boy' to 'man shall not lay with man' I hope Vivzie remembers the time period these characters came from because their backgrounds could affect the way they are and how OTHER people treated them.

Like here, Alastor, Angel, Nifty (depending on when she was born.), Husk, and Vox, lived through The Great Depression, 1929- 1939. Hell, Angel, Nifty, Vox, and . lived through World War 2. (There's also a theory that Angel could have been in the war. Same thing with Husk and Vietnam. If they choose to go down that route I hope they treat it with respect. It would also need EXTRA care considering if Angel was in the war he's ya know gay and World War 2 discriminated agaisnt ALOT of people. Jews, gays, trans, poc, disabled people.)

Seriously there is just alot of fucked up stuff that went on during these characters lives and I hope that the human world in Hazbin Hotel is more serious than Helluva Boss.

(Vivzie stans please don't attack me, I just wanted to state my worries. Also! Guess what's next? MY IMAGE of what Hazbin Hotel characters could have looked like as humans. I wanna just teach people alittle but about the time periods these characters feom and a few small headcannons. Look out for that!! Bye Matey's!!)

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

#Hazbin Hotel critique #hazbin hotel criticism #helluva boss #hazbin hotel #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #Vivzie please treat these characters backgrounds with respect 🙏

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rockbandsrockfans · 6 days ago

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My thoughts on From Zero:

From Zero (Intro): Yeah like from nothing!

The Emptiness Machine: I really like this song, I think it's good. The first time I heard it it sounded really familiar but like I've heard a demo of it not like it's a rip off of another song. I'm always down for Mike singing

Cut the Bridge: Rap verse and the drums under it is mad modern Linkin Park, everything else reminds me of a different band but idk which one. I like the bridge a lot

Heavy is the Crown: "THIS IS WHAT YOU ASKED FOOOOOOOOOOR!!" I see what you did there guys. This sounds plausibly Linkin Park and that muted sample or whatever that is in the back is cool af

Over Each Other: Emily's mostly solo song, the verse won't stick in my head but I'm into the chorus. The way the song resolves is exactly what I expected based on the chorus and exactly what it should be!

Casualty: This one is like if Lies Greed Misery (with some War influences) was written by teenage Slipknot fans in a garage. It sounds like it's gonna have an outro that goes into the beginning of Overflow and then doesn't

Overflow: Generic starting flow saved by really nice harmonies and arrangement. Atmospheric af I bet there will be remixes of this one too. Doesn't sound like it should be on the same album as Casualty.

Two Faced: Song that makes you go "oh THIS is a Linkin Park song" I've missed that crunchy guitar 😫 this shouldn't be my favorite but it might be anyway. The bridge is like the "Fuck you I won't do what you tell me" line from Killing in the Name combined with One Step Closer. Sometimes I think "is Joe still here?" He's here in this one

Stained: I like the verse WAY better than the chorus I'm grooving to the verse and then it's like oh it's done. The second chorus is more interesting than the first caus there's more backing instruments. The bridge comes together nicely though. Weirdly reminds me of Hall of Fame by The Script

IGYEIH: Similar melodic progression to Heavy is the Crown so like those two actually sound like they go on the same album. Matches the energy of Casualty, absolutely nothing like Cut the Bridge, but the LP guitar is GOING.

(Obligatory comparison of Emily to Chester: I can't help but notice how present the vocal harmonies are. They sound AWESOME but I think it's going to lead to people expecting something they aren't gonna get

Good Things Go: God DAMN Mike's voice has come a long way from No Roads Left. Holding those notes like a pro. This is a Post-Traumatic song though. Like if a Post-Traumatic song was an album closer. It definitely has the Album Closing Epic Drum Crescendo but it doesn't feel like an "ending." Spotify looped back into the intro and that felt like exactly what you're supposed to do at the end of the album. Which makes perfect sense for the first record of a new era

#linkin park #from zero #album review #Mike Shinoda #Emily Armstrong

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lexosaurus · 2 years ago

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and then he woke up

Happy @phandomholidaytruce to @bleedingectoplasm! I loved your prompts, especially the part where you said, "idk just hurt me<3" so I hope I delivered!

Characters: Danny, GIW, Sam, Tucker Words: 5103 Warnings/tags: body horror, angst, recovery

[ao3 link]

***

It had been a joke once. Back in high school, his classmates had once bantered about the limits to his healing factor. They giggled, theorizing different scenarios, each more ridiculous than the last. Instances where his finger was cut off, his ghostly tail chopped in two, his torso sliced in half. If he was missing an organ, would his body make a new one? Would he regrow it like a starfish if his arm was cut off?

He had laughed, then. Because of course, those situations were crazy. No one was going to take his organs out. No one was going to cut his arm off.

It was a joke.

It was supposed to be a joke.

His breath shuttered. Above him, white blended with white blended with green. Fire and nothingness cloaked his body, his nerves too fried to produce even a twitch. But still, ectoplasm bathed his skin, pooling on the table below him.

Voices murmured off to his side, and the sounds of machines beeped and whirred around him. But everything was muffled, the white was too oppressive, make it stop, make it stop…

“It’s fascinating.” The fuzzy operative hovered above him.

Danny couldn’t react as metal tools pressed against his skin.

“His body seems to be regrowing his missing kidney. Look, you can see it.”

Another face entered his view. “That’s incredible. Level seven indeed.”

Danny shut his eyes. He couldn’t stomach seeing their faces. He couldn’t know who was opening his skin, shuffling through his body, tearing it apart and putting it back together like a crude jigsaw.

He wanted to cocoon in his ignorance and wake up in his bed.

He woke up in his cell. No bed. No blanket. He was a ghost, and ghosts didn’t deserve luxuries.

He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to assess the damage. He didn’t want to see how deep the nerve and muscle damage went, didn’t want to know if there was still a hole in his body, didn’t want to feel any dents where organs should be.

He didn’t want to know.

But deep down, some ugly part of him knew. And it admonished him, telling him to be grateful. He could have had it worse, he could have died.

But then, wasn’t he already dead? No living person could have survived that.

No living person could have regrown a kidney.

His eyes burned, and his vision blurred over. After he passed out again, he would wonder what else they had removed from his body. What other things was he forced to regrow like some mutant lab experiment?

And to his horror, a few days later, he woke up.

Back on the metal table.

With another fuzzy operative floating above him, metal tools in hand.

The strap on his forehead stopped him from craning to see what was happening next to him, but instinct pooled in his gut anyway, and he knew.

He knew.

“It’s halfway regrown,” the operative said in a sterile tone.

“Time recorded. And what of his kidney?”

“It looks about a quarter of the way there.”

“Excellent.”

He wanted to ask, to beg, what was the first one? What were they talking about? Had they removed his kidney again? Didn’t they have enough fun the first time? Why were they doing this to him?

But even the mere thought of asking sent nausea down his throat and he couldn’t think about it, he couldn’t ask. His voice was frozen over anyway.

If he didn’t know the truth, then the realities didn’t exist.

When he woke up in his cell that evening, he tried to call out to Clockwork, to the Observants, to anyone who may see him. Who may know what he was going through.

But no one responded.

Of course.

Even though he didn’t expect an answer, it still punched him in the gut all the same. And those fears, those insecurities danced through his mind, twisting their imprints into every corner of his thoughts.

He wasn’t worthy of rescue. He wasn’t worth the trouble. He was just a thing, just a specimen to experiment on. He was…

Alone.

And then he woke up again on the table. And again. By now his nerves had been too torn apart to emit anything other than a numb tingling. The places he could still feel burned—they always burned—but he could ignore it. Shut it out.

Don’t think about it.

Don’t think.

He stared at the ceiling. Unmoving. Unblinking. Passed the masked faces above him, only catching the glint of metal out of the corners of his eyes. He listened as the operatives spoke, slicing parts of him away, but their words went in one ear and out the other.

He didn’t want to know.

And time passed. He kept waking up on the table with more things missing. He kept waking up in his cell knowing they had regrown. He kept waking up feeling tingling, burning in previously numb parts of his body, knowing that it was only thanks to the weekend that his nerves had begun to feel again. But then Monday would come again, and he would wake up with his body numb once more.

How much time had passed? How much of his body was no longer his? How much had regrown like an ugly patchwork of an ectoplasmic contaminated doll?

Was he even himself anymore if so much had been replaced?

How long until he couldn’t call himself Danny?

And then he woke up.

Again.

***

He woke up to dimly lit glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling.

Those had been courtesy of Sam’s insistence. Something about grounding him after he woke up from nightmares—after all, the GIW didn’t have decorations in their cells. It was too bad the stars didn’t exist behind his eyelids. It would be nice to be able to prevent the dreams from happening in the first place.

He wasn’t sure what time it was, and he was too afraid to look at his phone to check. He didn’t want to know how badly he’d messed up his sleep for the night—again—he’d realized. But the room was dark, so he could only imagine.

On TV, when people woke up from nightmares, they got out of bed. Maybe they got a glass of water, hopped in the shower, or started getting dressed.

Danny always thought that was a load of bullshit. Because here he was, his frantic heart beginning to slow, brain flickering images that made him want to gag, and yet he couldn’t even consider the possibility of leaving his bed.

And so he lay there.

Staring up at the ceiling.

He must have dozed off eventually because one moment his eyesight went blurry, and the next he was waking up to the plastic stars. Except, sunlight streamed through the windows, and the stars had lost their sci-fi glow.

He still didn’t know what time it was. Maybe he should check.

Maybe.

His skin was uncomfortably warm, and he could feel his pillow not quite right under his head. His neck was stiff, but still, he didn’t get up. He could have slept for a week. He didn’t have the willpower to get out of bed.

So…he didn’t. He stayed in bed. A sluggish arm pulled out his phone and his fingers lazily scrolled through various social media sites without stopping to read anything. He let the minutes hours pass by until the stale taste in his mouth and his parched throat forced him out of bed.

It was a good thing Sam and Tucker weren’t here. They would be so disappointed if they saw how he spent his days off.

He turned on the faucet, washing toothpaste down the drain. His sink was getting grimy again, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cleaned his apartment. Sam would be so let down. Tucker would be too, though he wouldn’t say so many words as her.

So when his phone buzzed to life and familiar names appeared on his screen, he ignored them.

He couldn’t face them. Couldn’t do it.

Instead, he went back to bed. Not to sleep, just to…exist. Whatever that meant.

And when his phone finally rang, he turned it on Do Not Disturb.

(In his dreams, he woke up in his cell again.)

He woke up to the stars.

Again.

He stayed in bed, dozing until his alarm went off, signaling the start of the work week.

Had Sunday passed? Did his brain skip an entire day without him knowing?

So he had spent the entire weekend in bed.

Fantastic.

He forced himself up, forced himself into the shower. He was careful not to touch his body anymore when he showered—that was what the loofah was for (another gift from Sam). His skin didn’t feel right anymore. It prickled at his touch in some places and burned in others. It had raises and bumps and lines that it didn’t use to. He couldn’t touch it, couldn’t admit to what happened, didn’t want to know.

Of course, it was impossible to forget.

He didn’t even notice he had transformed until he was already invisibly touching down at the subway stop. Danny Fenton took the subway to campus. At least, that was the story everyone else saw.

He detransformed—still invisibly, thank god he’d mastered that—and ducked out from behind the pillar. The invisibility dropped, and he slung his backpack over his shoulder as he made for the turnstile.

Danny Fenton was a researcher getting his MS in aerospace engineering. Danny Fenton was looking for summer internships. Danny Fenton was a normal man, one who grew up with scientist parents, who never went into their portal, who was never kidnapped by the government, who never had his body cut open and was never forced to regrow his organs day and day again.

He was normal.

Very normal.

The sun hit his eyes and he tried to pretend that he wasn’t squinting at the sudden light. That he hadn’t just spent the entire weekend inside. That he wasn’t royally fucked for class today because he hadn’t even glanced at the prep work.

He followed a group of students inside his building and scanned his ID at the front desk. The security guard hardly looked up from his newspaper, and why would he? Danny Fenton was a normal, tired human student.

The elevator dinged at his floor, and he made the same trek to the office that he always made. Someone acknowledged him from the hall—probably Blake, he practically lived at the school—and Danny grunted in response.

He hoped he remembered to shave that morning. He couldn’t remember anything other than the relief and subsequent dread at waking up.

“Got some grading for you, Fenton,” the professor said as soon as Danny walked through the door. He tapped a stack of folders. “It’s a rough one, sorry.”

Danny’s voice crackled as he responded, “Sounds good.” He flushed, realizing it had been several days since he’d spoken last.

(He talked plenty in his dreams, though.)

His advisor quirked a bushy brow at him. “You sleep alright?”

“Fine.” Danny swiped the stack of folders. “I’ll be in the conference room till someone kicks me out.”

“‘Kay.”

He was glad it was just grading. Math had formulas, it had plans. It was either right or wrong. A rocket ship couldn’t fly if the numbers were wrong.

And grading undergraduates was mindless. They either knew the material or they didn’t. In the case of Professor Patel’s class, most of them didn’t.

Which was fine with Danny. If that meant he had to take longer to grade these exams, then that was good. Great, even. It meant he could spend less time thinking.

But eventually, he finished, and Patel ordered him to get food before class.

Danny tried to remember what he’d eaten since Friday. Maybe he had…pizza? At one point? A sandwich? Some ramen? He couldn’t remember. He must have eaten something because he wasn’t that hungry.

“You sure you’re alright?” Patel had asked again as Danny gathered his coat and bag to leave.

“Yeah.” He refused to make eye contact. “Just tired. You know, busy weekend.”

Busy weekend of staring at the wall, more like.

“I get it. Grad school is tough,” Patel said. “Listen, I have some meetings later, so I don’t need you for the rest of the day. After class, just go home. Get some rest. Swing by tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Make sure you actually sleep this time.”

Danny attempted a weak smile. “I’ll try.”

Still, shame and guilt clawed at his hollow insides. He knew that he was giving nothing but empty promises.

He managed to go to class where he managed to take notes and he managed to follow along. Somehow. Thankfully.

And then Danny Fenton walked to a secluded spot, transformed, and flew home.

His apartment was dark under the drawn curtains, but he didn’t bother with a light switch. It didn’t matter, he wasn’t human anyway.

He grabbed a container from the fridge—takeout, some days old—and ate it under the light of the microwave clock. It was lo mein, some part of him recognized midway through. It tasted blander than he remembered.

Some part of him thought back to when the operatives had cut out his tongue. Partially to punish him for mouthing off, and partially just for fun. Sometimes he wondered how different his new taste buds were. Was this because they had regrown? Or did he just have issues?

No, don’t think about that.

So he didn’t.

He woke up to his alarm.

He went to school.

Helped his advisor around the office.

Assisted with a class for undergraduates.

Went to his own class.

Had coffee with a classmate after. (What was her name again?)

Flew home.

Ate dinner. Ramen this time.

Woke up.

He woke up to pounding on his door.

He slapped a hand to his forehead, blearily sliding it down his eyes. Ugh, what time was it?

Who the hell was here this early?

Muffled shouting sounded from the hallway, but Danny couldn’t even begin to decipher what they were saying. But a second later, he recognized who was speaking and groaned on instinct.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” He braced himself for the unforgiving atmosphere that existed outside of his blankets.

“Danny, if you don’t get to the door right fucking now, I’m going to—”

“Yeah! I heard you!” He snapped, dragging his lifeless body from the bed.

“Sam, come on—”

“No, he can’t ignore us, Tuck.”

“I know, but—”

Danny opened the door, blinking as the light from the hall hit his retinas. He yawned. “What the hell?”

“Danny, have you been sleeping all day?” Sam’s tone hardly reigned in her frustration. She stood, tapping her black boots on the carpet and glaring at him through her purple makeup and dyed bangs.

“What?”

“It’s two in the afternoon, dude,” Tucker said, pushing past the door.

Danny didn’t fight him. He’d learned months ago that isolation wasn’t a battle he could win with these two.

Sam wrinkled her nose, picking at his shirt. “Have you been wearing this all week?”

Danny rolled his eyes, stepping back into the dusty apartment. He couldn’t remember when he’d last changed, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. “Will you relax? I was just asleep. Sorry, I’ll change.”

“Danny…”

“Make yourselves at home. I’ll be right back.” He shut the front door and padded to his bedroom, rifling through his laundry bin of clean clothes he’d never managed to put away.

Tucker, of course, took that as an invitation to perch himself on the bedroom doorframe. He stared into the messy bedroom, his arms crossed, and that annoyingly tense look on his face that Danny had begun to recognize was the “you’ve done fucked up” look.

But as usual, Tucker didn’t offer any of that information first. No, Danny had to be the one to grind out, “Okay, what now?”

“What do you mean, what now?” Tucker said.

“I don’t know. You look like you have something to say.” Danny turned away and shrugged his shirt off, speed racing through putting the new one on.

He couldn’t risk anyone seeing his torso.

Even if his two best friends already knew what that looked like.

“Danny. You already know what I’m gonna say.”

“No, I don’t.”

Of course, he did.

But that was enough to snap Tucker out of his judgemental glare. For his crossed arms to fall down to his sides, and for that unmistakable sigh to escape his lips.

“Dude, you’re getting worse.”

He knew Tucker was right. But that didn’t stop instinct from spouting out, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” Tucker snorted, glancing at the piles of dirty laundry on his floor. “If you want to keep lying to yourself.”

“Danny? All the vegetables I bought last week are still in your fridge,” Sam said, poking her head through the door. A clump of her purple and black hair caught on her lipstick, but she didn’t move to brush it away.

Danny didn’t even remember seeing vegetables in his fridge. “Sorry.”

“Have you been eating?”

“I eat a lot at school. You know, networking stuff.”

Tucker quirked a brow, and Sam’s expression looked even less impressed.

He looked at his two best friends, both dressed in unwrinkled clothes with skin that appeared as if it saw the sun for more than five minutes each day. They had their careers, friends, and lives that Danny could only dream of.

“Come on, let’s go get food,” Sam said.

“Food?”

“It’s past lunch, and I know you need it.”

It was pointless to try to fight them. “Okay. Give me a few minutes to wash my face?”

“Sure.”

Winter was nice, Danny decided. Winter air meant it was cold, and he had an excuse to bundle up. He didn’t have to worry about short sleeves or people seeing his bare skin.

He could cover it up, not talk about it, not think about it.

“I think you should talk about it,” Sam said finally, placing a sub in front of him.

Danny couldn’t recall ordering anything. In fact, he hardly remembered the walk here. Which was bad. That meant Sam and Tucker had seen him when he was zoning out. He tried not to do that when they were around.

Oops.

“You know I can’t,” Danny said. He picked up the sub and took a bite. It was nice, and then he realized that meant he was probably hungry.

“I’m not saying you need to give details as Fenton. Maybe you can find someone willing to work with Phantom?”

“That’s impossible.”

“Nah,” Tucker said through a mouthful of his own food. He chewed for a moment and then swallowed. “Phantom’s been around for a while. You have a lot of support. I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard to find a therapist who’s willing to work with you in ghost form.”

“Yeah, okay, let me just do that. I’ll just go ahead and risk finding a therapist on the off-chance they don’t call the government to come take me back there. Sure, no problem.” Danny glared at his food which suddenly didn’t look so appetizing. He huffed, putting it down on his plate, and dropped his head into his palms.

His hands were shaking. He hadn’t even realized they were doing that.

“Danny…” Sam’s voice was gentle this time. “Come on. There are other options.”

“Not really.”

“Sure there are. We can get you to a psychiatrist. You know, as a human.”

“They’d want to do bloodwork.”

Sam was silent at that. And then Danny could hear his breath, how shaky it was, and he hated that. He hated this conversation and feeling this way and he wanted to be home by himself staring at the stupid plastic stars on his ceiling again.

“You can’t keep living like this,” Tucker said. “I’m sorry, but you can’t. This is bad.”

“I know.” His voice was weak.

“So let’s think of something.”

“I’ve tried. There’s nothing else I can do.”

The three of them were silent once again. No one moved until finally, Tucker picked up his sandwich, and Sam followed. And Danny sat there with his head in his hands until the shakiness stopped and he could manage to eat another few bites. Sam wrapped up his leftovers and she and Tucker guided him home.

And that was that.

Until he woke up the next day to his phone ringing. It was Sam—of course, it was Sam—breathless on the other line.

“I’m here.”

“What?”

“Tucker’s outside. Can you buzz us in?”

Danny groaned, dragging himself up again because these two idiots didn’t know how to leave him alone. He hit the buzzer and then waited at his door for the sound of murmurs, footsteps, and the polite knock that followed (it was Tucker’s knock this time). He opened the door to see his friends with their backpacks suspiciously full.

“Guys, stop,” Danny said, stepping aside to let them in.

“Stop what?” Tucker said innocently.

“Stop mothering me. You don’t need to bring me stuff. You already did that last week.”

Tucker hopped over to the kitchen. “Oh well, if you see Danny, tell him we’ll stop bringing him groceries when he admits he can’t survive on ramen forever.” Tucker set his backpack down on the counter and unloaded its contents into the fridge.

Danny mumbled incoherently, pulling out his phone to Venmo his two friends because he knew they wouldn’t accept repayment otherwise.

“Come on,” Sam said, pulling him away from Tucker. “Let’s watch TV.”

Danny allowed himself to be dragged to the couch, and he didn’t resist when Sam pushed him down and threw a blanket over him.

“There,” she said.

“I’m a halfa. I wasn’t cold.”

“But now you’re comfortable.”

“And you have groceries,” Tucker said, jumping onto the couch. He threw his hoodie-covered arm around Danny, patting his shoulder. “See? We got you.”

“I’m sorry,” Danny said reflexively. He was sorry. He was so sorry that they had to deal with him, that he wasn’t just fine and back to normal. That, for some reason, he couldn’t handle what happened even after all this time had passed.

“It’s okay, dude.”

“No, it’s not.” He moved his mouth soundlessly, shoving his trembling fingers under his blanket. He could feel the other two still beside him, and he wanted to unload everything, but that wouldn’t be fair to them. He couldn’t keep using them like this, it wasn’t fair.

“Danny, come on, we’re your best friends.”

“Yeah, but this is crazy. I’m crazy—or, I feel like it. You know? Like…I don’t know, I just feel like the world keeps slipping and I don’t know what to do.”

Admitting the truth was bitter, and he couldn’t look at the other two. He couldn’t see their reactions. He didn’t want to look at Sam’s concerned expression, her eyebrows tight and pulled in, and he didn’t want to see Tucker’s wide eyes and their underlying hard look. Because that would mean that what he said was real and that the dreams were real and he couldn’t do that. He didn’t want to know.

“As we said before,” Sam said, her voice cautious. “You know, there are options.”

“Those are impossible for me.”

“Not necessarily.” Sam reached down into her backpack and pulled out a folder. “I hope you don’t mind, but last night Tucker and I went ahead and looked into some psychologists nearby. We compiled a list of all the ones who had liked or posted pro-Phantom posts on social media.”

Danny’s brain was slow to react, but when the implication hit him, he carefully reached out for the folder and opened it. Inside were stapled pages of various therapists. He leafed around to see printouts of their backgrounds, therapist pages, and their interactions with Phantom-themed social media.

“Wow…” He stared at the papers, hardly soaking in the words in front of him. His throat felt tight, and something prickled behind his eyes.

“Like I said, we got you,” Tucker said.

Danny quickly wiped away a tear that betrayed him. “I—I’m sorry.”

“You’d do the same for us, dude.”

“Wow. Well, still. This was…really nice.” He glanced at his friends and saw nothing but kindness behind their eyes. “Thanks, guys.”

“Will you let us help you find someone now?”

Danny nodded.

“Good.” Sam put her hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get through this, Danny. I promise.”

And if he had to wipe away another tear from his cheek, his friends were kind enough to not point it out.

***

“You look better,” Tucker said through a mouthful of a pastrami sandwich. “She’s good?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Danny sipped on his coffee, glancing toward the window. Snow flurries had begun to fall, though too sparse to stick onto the pavement. The sun was undecided if it wanted to commit to hiding behind the clouds and letting the snow commence, or if it wanted to break up the incoming storm in favor of blue skies.

But regardless of the weather, the world moved around him. People hurried along the sidewalks, their hands shoved in their pockets and their eyes trained low, blinking away the little white speckles that stuck to their eyelashes. Cars whizzed by with bikes trailing alongside them. Across the street, a man dressed in all blue stood on a box, preaching to the scurrying passerby.

“I’m glad she’s working out,” Tucker said.

Danny was glad as well. Though, he could never express just how relieved he’d been. Looking back, it was almost embarrassing how quickly he had broken down to Amy. He couldn’t even remember what question she had asked him, just that it apparently hit the exact nerve he had spent months pushing down further and further into the recess of his mind.

That had been the first night in a long time he didn’t have a nightmare.

“How’s your job going?” Danny asked. “Sorry, I haven’t really asked.”

“All good, dude! And it’s been going well. My team’s awesome. I can’t really talk about what we’re developing—NDAs and all—but it’s been fun to figure out how to build everything. You know? It’s like a jigsaw puzzle.”

Danny felt the corners of his lips twitch up. It had been too long since he’d seen this, the spark that hit Tucker’s eyes when he got on the topic of technology. For so long, his daily routine had been making sure he didn’t drown, that he’d forgotten how nice it was to be able to breathe air.

“You can’t tell me anything? Not even a little hint?”

Tucker groaned dramatically, pulling his beanie down over his eyes. “Don’t tempt me, dude! Staying quiet about this is already bad enough without having you guilting me into spilling.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.”

“And what about you? You’re working for your advisor, right?”

“Yeah. Patel’s cool. You know, it’s mostly just me doing his bitch work. But he’s been talking about introducing him to some of his contracting buddies. So that’d be cool.” Danny shrugged. “Whatever gets my foot in the door, really.”

“The first job’s the hardest. After that, it gets easier.”

“That’s what Sam said too. And Jazz. And my mom.”

“Well, they’re not wrong,” Tucker said, turning his attention back to his sandwich. “You remember me complaining about my first job. My boss was an idiot who thought more lines of code meant more productivity. No matter how many people explained that fewer lines are actually—a lot of the time—better and that debugging was a thing, this guy couldn’t grasp the concept. I couldn’t wait to finish out my year and get out of there.”

“Bad bosses are everywhere, I guess.”

“Yeah. But you know, now I’m working at this kickass place and it’s great!”

Tucker didn’t have to convince Danny of that. Just looking across the table, Danny could see all the ways Tucker had changed since they were kids. He was taller, more filled out, and he sat with his shoulders back, head held high. He still had that shit-eating grin, but it seemed more genuine now. Kinder.

Danny had a lot of catching up to do. But maybe…maybe one day, he’d get there too.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll be complaining about my first boss too.”

“It’s a rite of passage.”

The laugh escaped his lips before he could stop himself. “Sure it is.”

“So what’s on your agenda for today?”

“Eh, nothing fun. I’m still catching up with all my schoolwork.” It hadn’t been fun facing the mountain of assignments and studying he had fallen behind on. But it hadn’t exactly been the first time he’d been in this academic predicament either. And as experience had taught him, once he’d started, he had found that his backlog of work wasn’t quite as bad as his anxiety had made it seem.

“We’ll be seeing you on Friday still, right?” Tucker asked.

Danny took another sip of his coffee and nodded. “For sure. I’ll need the break by then.”

“Good.”

“And, you know, thanks.” Danny ducked his head. “I know I’ve been off. Thanks for sticking it out for me. I really appreciate you guys.”

“Dude, of course. You know, we moved here together, so we’re gonna stick together.”

“Yeah. Still, thanks.”

“We got you.”

When Danny woke up on Saturday, he wasn’t in his bed. He was on his couch with Sam and Tucker pressed up on either side of him. They must have fallen asleep watching terrible movies again. Empty cans of spiked seltzers and a family-sized bag of pretzels littered the coffee table, and the ‘Are You Still Watching?’ message splayed over the TV screen.

He heard the soft snores of Tucker and the consistent breaths of Sam, and something warm and fuzzy grew in his stomach. After months and months of feeling empty, the warmth was almost jarring at first, but that was quickly replaced by bliss.

Because even though it had been a while, even Danny couldn’t forget how nice this all felt. To have friends, family even. To be loved and cared for. To know that no matter what, he always had these two by his side.

Honestly, what would he do without them?

“Thanks,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

He could wait until they woke up too.

#danny phantom #fanfiction #phicc #my writing #and then he woke up #we got some trio bonding #we got some dissecc #i mean really what more could you need

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the11tailedwrites · 8 months ago

Text

1 - Osiris

CW: Angle Trap from Saw so heavy gore

@hidden-scarlet-whispers @braindamagedrizz

They saw trapped my man.

Osiris awoke to a pounding behind his eyes. His head pulsed and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. When they did adjust, Osiris had absolutely no idea where he was. It was a dark and musty room with only a single light. He shifted slightly and pain flared up from his chest and he hissed in pain and glanced down. There was a strange ribbed metal cage around his chest. He could feel metal twisting inside him, and he bit his lip to hide a hiss of pain. He grabbed at the cage with his fingers, desperately trying to pry it open.

“Rise and shine, little phoenix,” crooned a feminine voice.

A screen in the corner of the room lit up, bathing Osiris in artificial light. Osiris glanced over at the screen to see a masked woman. The mask was pure white, with nothing on it, not even holes for the eyes. The woman’s bright red hair made her white mask almost seem to glow.

“Who the fuck are you,” snarled Osiris, jerking forward before grimacing in pain, feeling blood leak out from under the ribbed cage.

“I am Chaos, pleasure, my dear boy,” said the woman, “Now let’s play a game, yes?”

“What?” hissed Osiris

“You don’t have much of a choice, give I’ve already strung you up,” said the woman, “Now, here’s how it works; as you can probably tell, you are strung up with ribbed metal around your chest, embed to the bone. In front of you is a vat of acid. When the timer starts, the key to unlock the ribbed cage drops in. Failure to get the key out of the acid before it melts results in no way to get the cage off. 60 seconds later and the machine activated and rips out of your chest. The fun thing about guardians is that this won’t keep you dead, so you get to try out so many different methods!”

“I am going to kill you,”

“You can try,”

Osiris’ eyes flicked over to the vat of acid, neck pricking slightly. He stomach twisted painful. Why was he so nervous? He was the phoenix of the dark ages, the student of Lord Felwinter and a damn powerful warlock. A simple trap shouldn’t set him on edge, but it did. Maybe it was because he could barely feel Sagira.

“Wait,” he shouted, “What have you done to my ghost!”

“She’s fine,” said the woman, holding up Osiris’ beloved ghost in one hand, “I need subjects for my experiments anyway and you are fascinating. Make sure to smile, you’re being recorded!”

Then the timer ticked on, and a key dropped into the acid. Osiris wasted no time reaching his hand in. He bit down a scream as the acid bit apart his hand as he groped for the key. After a few painful seconds, his hand clasped around the key and he pulled into out quick, splashing some acid onto his legs. The smell of chemically brunt flesh filled Osiris’ nose as he forced the key into the lock, though it took almost four seconds.

It clicked.

It opened.

It fell off.

But the ribbed cage did not.

Confusing spread through Osiris as he stared at the fallen lock. Osiris gritted his teeth and gripped the cage, ripping and pulling, desperately trying to free himself.

Osiris thrashed.

His nails broke off.

His heart was in his ears.

Why couldn’t he stop shaking?

The sound of tearing flesh and the searing pain almost blinded him. He only got a few seconds to look down before gravity took hold of his organs. He could only watch as his intestines fell out before nothing.

Osiris awoke lying on his own organs. They felt warm and squishy, and Osiris pushed himself up.

“Sorry, no way to win,” came Chaos’ annoying voice, “Good quality video, though, I sent it to the Iron Lords. Wonder what they’ll think?”

“Bitch” snarled Osiris, forcing himself up, entire front drenched in his own blood.

A piece of his intestines clung to him for a moment before slipping off and hitting the floor.

Chaos’ laughter filled the small room.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have other guests to tend to,”

The tv turned off and Osiris was plunged into darkness.

It took incredible effort for Osiris to move away from the pile of organs and crawl into a corner. He tried to create a solar flare, for light or warmth he didn’t know. It didn’t matter because he couldn’t create light at all. He wasn’t bound in any way with void suppression, so Osiris wasn’t sure how he wasn’t able to use light.

Osiris leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

Tearing flesh. The wet sound of organs falling to the ground.

Osiris snapped open his eyes.

“Fuck,”

Osiris wished he could feel Sagira. He could really use her comfort right now.

Distantly, he wondered who that other guest Chaos was talking about was.

He tried to remember how he ended up here. He memories of recent events was hazy at best.

He had been on patrol. Lord Felwinter has requested he look into something nearby. He had gotten there, checked, nothing odd. He had been on the way to sweep the nearby area. His neck had pulsed for only a second and everything had gone dark.

Did Lord Felwinter set a trap for him? No, that wouldn’t make sense. If Lord Felwinter wanted him out of the way or dead, he would have done it himself. Lord Felwinter was not the kind of person who tortured his targets before he killed them.

If not an Iron Lord, then was Chaos working for herself?

Osiris sighed.

He was getting nowhere.

All he could do now was hope for a rescue. He didn’t even know if anyone would care enough to rescue him. Maybe they would come for whoever else was trapped here and leave him. He wouldn’t be surprised.

He was used to being abandoned.

#cw: gore #osiris #original character #angel trap saw #i want to put osiris through the ringer #osiris has poor self worth

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candycryptids · 5 months ago

Note

For Chuu!! She's a MCH. What bits of the story and job toolkit are canon for her? What arent? Whatve you changed? (like, does she have an alternate Queen or multiweapon attachment?)

So I don’t think she does Any of the Machinist Job-Quest-line, lmfao. She doesn’t have a Job Crystal, either, this is all self-taught organic rootin tootin aim-n-shoot’n. (Please laugh) … her ‘Drone’ is just a Magitek Bit she’s gotten her paws on while relocating (read: Quitting her Job and moving countries with no fore-warning) and repurposed to do a number of things Before-Building-Tuesday. Like cover fire. And recording voice-journals.

The Queen is. ‘Technically’ the same- I like to think it’s Probably just Old Tuesday Prototypes being put through their paces instead of getting scrapped, running on very bare-bones programming. If I was more mod-savvy I’d give it the Loporrit Robot Bunny ears in game XD (I almost made it a different Magitek machine altogether! But I think she’d rather have something marching into battle she built completely with her own hands than something repurposed. Not that she wouldn’t require a Reaper to start firing blasts randomly and March in a straight line into the enemy lololol)

She initially learned how to wield a gun from Garleans, with rigid target practice and gun handling procedures. For self-protection, mostly. An Engineer is no good to them dead. Especially not one so promising, even if she is…. Difficult to work with. She develops her own style over time and while she never gains PinPoint Accuracy without some, uh, self-modification, she’s a pretty decent shot. Favors guns with bayonets or blades for when something tries to get too close, though usually if she’s given any time to prepare she’ll have a handful of machines to call into battle anyways… or Talia. Lol.

[POV; Your girlfriend is pointing out a cool bird but you spotted an imperial and on fucking Byregot nobody is about to interrupt her day off.] On her person is nearly always the Makai Hand Mortar, even for situations where combat isn’t expected. It’s small, easily concealed, and pink. Which. It’s just great. So even if she doesn’t have The Big guns ™ she’s still packing heat. (Is this a strap joke? Maybe.)

I cannot think of a possible way to improve on or change the multi-tool, it’s in the brand of all-in-hilarious-nonsense Chuu Loves to make for some reason. At best, she probably tries to work out a way to make it Much More Compact- after all, Tuesday was her attempts to make a Robot that was so…. Humanoid. Pushing the limits on what was possible in terms of size and shape and functionality. [She managed to make a robot so human-like he's no longer attractive to her in the way Machines are.... Sad! Oh well, there's other robots.]

She did specifically paint her lunchbox (aether converter/ammunition kit/whatever you want to call it) cherry pink for Talia though. Her favorite color is pink 🌸

(You might be wondering; how did these two ever meet? You’d be right to wonder! I wonder too. 😳 someday me and my partner will hammer it out …. LOL.)

Shaders used are Kore's [Edge Triangle Mix] [Electro World] [Glitter] and Neneko's [Basic C [Gameplay]]

#ffxiv Viera #ffxiv Chuu #CHUU LORE? THE DAY BEFORE MAINT? more likely than you think THANK YOUUU CINDER I'm showering you in flowers #ffxiv Roegadyn #ffxiv Talia #I should really name her bit but. alas.#Also enjoy a bunch of Chuu Machinist Glams. I have many of them. I need more plates to make up for all her machinist glams. LOL?#I can tell you Talia is part amaljaa and punches Ifrit Specifically in the throat. she is a one woman Ifrit Destroying Army #she’s also a delicate little lady and I love her #‘delicate little lady’ I say about the tall and shredded woman.

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thessalian · 3 months ago

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Thess vs NaNoWriMo

So that time of year is fast approaching, and I think a lot of people I associate with on this platform are going, "But Veilguard's coming out on HALLOWEEN!", which is entirely fine - NaNoWriMo is optional. And honestly, all things considered, I am probably never doing it as an organised situation again.

It took some digging to find the original text, and I'll probably post the screenshot I saw on Bluesky too, but summary: not only is NaNoWriMo pretty much supporting AI (they say "absolutely not condemning", but the rest of the text isn't nearly so mealy-mouthed about it) but also calling people who are against AI "ableist and classist".

No, seriously. I mean, seriously.

Look, how people get their ideas is probably up to them. And stolen valour aside, plugging an idea into ChatGPT and getting some word salad in return is ... I guess someone's prerogative. The same as someone just typing, like, "rutabaga" 50k times technically counts as writing 50k words. But ... first of all, NaNoWriMo was supposed to support people who write. Second of all, the idea that not having someone immediately at your side to serve as beta reader is "classist" is ... no. Like, if you're online enough to understand NaNoWriMo, you can find a damn beta reader. Third, "Some people's brains don't work well enough to see the problems in their writing--" SEE ABOVE RE PROOF-READING, FOR ONE THING, and for another, that's just shit like spelling and grammar check, which has been standard on word processing programmes basically ever since the concept existed! Fourth, I'm not sure how AI assists in shit like "Can't find a publisher because publishers are only really interested in what will sell ALL THE BOOKS", but that's one of their arguments too.

But the last thing - the worst thing - is what that means. NaNoWriMo is not cool with plagiarism as far as I know, but that's what trains AI. More to the point, you have to verify your word count with their website by actually copy-pasting everything you wrote into the site for it to show you as a winner. The fact that they support AI, and that one of their sponsors offers a whole bunch of AI features? I don't trust them not to be selling every single thing people submit for word count total to feed someone else's writer-bot.

I mean, the NaNoWriMo bods have made some spectacularly shitty decisions the last few years. There was that partnership with those scammers at Inkkit, which also revealed the whole thing where one of their moderators - who operated the youth programme, by the way - turned out to be a paedophile and groomer. But this one is just ... disrespectful of the very thing they were supposed to be supporting.

Please don't use the official NaNoWriMo resources. I am concerned for what it will do with not only what you submit for word count, but what you put in their forums too. If you want to do 50k words in 30 days, I am with you all the way, and others will be too. Find a support group that isn't these jackasses and do that.

Plus the "not using AI is ableist" thing is bullshit, by the way. I am not participating this year (I don't think, anyway; not unless I get a great idea) because I'm damn sure I don't have the spoons for that ... because disabled. Because fibromyalgia. The thing is, I don't want to just say "I produced 50k words and won NaNo", I want to write. I want to use my voice, not something cooked up by a machine learning algorithm based on a single sentence. I think way too many people have forgotten what "in your own voice" means to art.

Like, on the r/criticalrole subreddit, we were talking about how Lance Reddick actually did record all his lines as Thordak in TLOVM before he passed, and I mentioned how different that was going to hit, with the example of having heard Robin Sachs as Zaeed in the ME3 Citadel DLC after he passed. And someone went, "Oh, shit, I didn't know he passed! Hey, do you think they'll one day be able to use the voices of dead voice actors so we can keep hearing them? Because I know it's possible because Snoop Doggy Dogg is reading me my homework now and it's awesome!"

I ... may have kind of exploded. I may also have mentioned that some bunch of assholes tried to make a George Carlin special after Carlin's death and his daughter (understandably) hit the roof. It's bad enough to disrespect thousands of people by training an AI to spit out whatever of their works will fit a prompt sentence, but imagine hearing the voice of someone you love, mangled by AI's inability to get real emotional nuance, possibly saying shit they would never say? Using their voices doesn't change that the emotion and power behind those voices is gone forever; it just parades a decaying copy of them around like some vocal equivalent of Weekend at Bernie's.

#Thess vs AI #Thess gets aerated

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bearpillowmonster · 7 months ago

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Transformers One Trailer

That new trailer and I have some thoughts? Surprisingly.

I don't normally watch trailers anymore and I've said why before but it basically boils down to they spoil too much too much of the time and what's the point if I'm sold anyway. Now Transformers One seems like a no-brainer, gives those fans a prequel origin sort of thing as well as an introduction for the newbies who only know the Bay and Rise and Bumblebee movies in animation no less so completely different. Then I saw the images of the designs and oh man0

It looks generic. Like I never watched Transformers Prime, it has its fans but I just do not like that art style and this started making me think of that, like it wasn't finished. I much would've preferred a 2D movie but 3D can be done, look at the War for Cybertron trilogy (which I've already talked about)

Nice and stylized, distinguished, scuffed metal, I wanna lick them. Anyways, that's a show though, it'd look good as a movie and heck, T-One looks good as a show but I don't know, is it just me? I also didn't finish the trilogy because the first one was good and I thought it'd only get better but reviews for the second one came out and they were bogus so I dropped it.

But then I watched the trailer-

And it looks better! Notice anything? They're all close up shots! And you mean to tell me this is the same movie>

Ugh. Visuals out of the way, cast. Why? We don't need all these celebrity voices and I'm someone who supports Peter Cullen just being Optimus all the time but I also understand that he's getting older just like Charles Martinet did with Mario leaving the character in a specific position but you didn't get Chris Pratt?? No I'm just kidding, we got Chris Hemsworth, and really, I can't even tell that it's him, I saw his name attached and I was like "Here we go again" and there are a few times where he had traces of that Cullen voice pattern and it's like an adolescent Optimus settling into his voice- wait am I complementing? Stop that.

Josh Cooley is directing and he's got a pretty decent track record with Pixar, we even see Keegan Michael Key again for whatever reason- oh, it's goofy, it's made for children

"But he says bad ass!" mehmehmehmehmeh, so do the other movies twit, somehow, someway, they get away with anything. He's gotta go and announce everything that's happening "I have knives?!" "I have machine guns in my butt?!" Stupid even for a kid, especially menaging Megatron, what'd you do to my angry baby? He's just reading the script, I know, which also isn't great. So, instead of just being a race of transformers, they're a race of robots that gain the ability to transform to save Cybertron. There's the generic nature again! I also don't see it in the trailer but with the toys, they have this weird thing where they use energy to summon their weapons? Bumblebee is fine with the "KNIVES" but

"I put my hand on a ba-all to see if I still bleeeeddd and nothing hurts anymore, I feel kinda freeeeee" What is that? Just give him an axe, he doesn't have to summon it and then attach it to a ball. But wait- the design is different here, what's going on? These toys don't match up with the movie. Like, look at Bumblebee before and after he transforms, he doesn't look like the toy does (I've used enough pictures, do some leg work) and Megatron...just looks like Megatron and I know these are movie toys, just look at Alpha Trion, so I don't know how much of it is an accurate conversion between the two and I normally wouldn't care but it's that ball that drives me bonkers.

BUT I will say that I support Scarjo playing- who is she playing? Because that's not Arcee. Elita One? Cool name, at least. Oh, she's an OG, we're good then. Lawrence is also a good one. Anyways, disappointed, we'll see.

#transformers #yeah #here i am in the future...#transformers one

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justconstantly · 7 months ago

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MY TOP 9 ALBUMS OF ALL TIME

tagged by @belladonnafey

couldn't sleep, saw ur tag zoph (<3), and here we are. I'm a big album listener so this was a struggle for me, but I tried to avoid all my short term obsessions and only pick my absolute favs, ones I could listen to no skips at any time (order here isn't a ranking or anything, solely was aesthetic for the collage)

lungs (deluxe) - Florence+the machine

fav songs: I'm not calling you a liar, bird song, kiss with a fist

every spare moment for the entire summer of 2014 my brother and I played Minecraft on a LAN server together and I listened exclusively to a YouTube playlist of this album on repeat and that's definitely part of why I am the way I am

heretic pride - the mountain goats

fav songs: autoclave, lovecraft in brooklyn

funnily enough, not one of the three goats albums I have on vinyl, the others are better for living room activities that my record player is good for (lounging, plant watering, etc) but this one is still my all time fav

wasteland baby - hozier

fav songs: almost (sweet music), wasteland baby

RIP my college roommates in spring 2019 because I listened to only this album for approximately 2.5 months and I think they hated me for it (blasting it out loud, singing badly, etc)

Grace - Jeff buckley

fav songs: lover you should've come over, dream brother

this album is so so cool, I mean even discounting Jeff buckleys angelic voice, the haunting guitar? the early modern English hymn?? lilac wine AND hallelujah??? makes me feel incredible

sound and color - alabama shakes

fav songs: this feeling, shoegaze

this whole album makes me just dance/sway around my apartment feeling like I'm the most soulful and tender person alive

post-war - M. ward

fav songs: Chinese translation, right in the head, rollercoaster, magic trick

makes me so indescribably nostalgic for a life I've never lived. when I heard Chinese translation for the first time I was like hmm I'm different now

collapsed in sunbeams - Arlo parks

fav songs: too good, eugene

got the vinyl from my library on a whim to listen to while me and my roomie did a puzzle and spent the next 2 weeks of the hold just glued to the record player, haven't bought my own copy yet but it's on my wishlist FOR SURE just perfect lazy living room vibes for me

crawler - IDLES

fav songs: the beachland ballroom, meds, car crash

massive thank you @azertykeys for recommending me idles bc this album is a go to for me when I'm coding and/or also just in my feelings

bridge over troubled water - Simon & Garfunkel

fav songs: keep the customer satisfied, the boxer, the only living boy in New York, why don't you write me

my parents listened to quite a bit of Simon and Garfunkel when I was a kid and I didn't realize I knew them until I was like 20 and my friend was playing their greatest hits and I knew every word to every song. she was like why do you know so much Simon and Garfunkel and I was like oh is that who this is? anyway love this album, my vinyl is a treasured posession

only reason mitski isn't on this list is because I can't choose between any of her albums

other honorable mentions:

<COPINGMECHANISM> by willow

hospice by antlers

woman on the internet by Orla gartland

case/lang/veirs by case/lang/veirs

transgender dysphoria blues by against me

fetch the bolt cutters by Fiona apple

she won't make sense by the harmleighs

this was long so absolutely no pressure, but tagging @azertykeys @heart-to-hearts @bromaine-lettuce @junewild @unnonexistence @navigatorwrongway and anyone who sees this and wants to give it a go

#this was funnnn #i love music and making lists SO much #mutuals pspspspspsp

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apphiarothowrites · 1 year ago

Note

Modern MAS Musician Au ]

this has been poking my brain, will I ever write it who knows?

Ace Punk Rock; Machine gun Kelly- very mainstream and adored for his music

Sabo alternative punk; YUNGBLUD - less mainstream but very popular in the UK and with lgbt/marginalized groups

Now Ace and Sabo have collaborated and have some.. feelings but that ain't gonna be looked at too closely cause both of them are focused on their careers. Anyway they end up getting contacted by Whitebeard records (a huge deal, Edward newgate was known as the father of rock for a reason)

SO they come in and are met by Newgate himself, Basically the deal is they are to collaborate in a album to re-launch Di-Angels Return.

Now for those who don't Know Di-angel or for those who were fans Marci Diangelo was a HUGE deal back in the day. Like Joan Jett mixed with Lady gaga. The woman was the beginning of the punk rock scene, aggressively making out with both genders for paparazzi and generally being an absolute menace. Ace and Sabo of course say yes, (Sabo was inspired to start his own music career by her and Ace just thinks she's neat.)

Anyway the day comes where they are supposed to meet Her, Di- Angel, Marci and of course Sabo is kinda fanboying and Ace may or may not be very jealous cause come on, she was hot back in the day but she's in her 40s now. Instead of the busty blonde who once screamed into the microphone about flying away. They are met with a blonde man in a leather jacket.

"Uhm, excuse me?" Ace wants to be irritated but damn the guy is smokin hot. "We were supposed to be meeting Di-angel here."

The man blinks sleepy blue eyes, "yeah, I know."

Sabo bites his lip eye twitching, "You- Marci, we are meeting with Marci Diangelo, the singer."

The blonde man sticks a cig in his mouth, the corner quirking up. "Just said, I know. But you obviously are a bit behind the times." The man stands towering over both of them, "I go by Marco now, call me Marci again and I'll send you both through the door got it?"

Oh shit, fuck yeah, this is GOOD SHIT right here raccooon.

Ever since Pops suggested relaunching Di-Angel, Marco's been nothing but a roll of anxiety in human skin. While their family was fairly accepting, and the punk-rock community as a whole generaly was too, the larger scene is...well. Not quite the same. With most of the people of Marco's generation reacting across the entire spectrum from acceptance to hard rejection, Marco honestly didn't think it would be a good idea.

Yes, his voice and range dropped by a few octaves. Yes his old favorite dresses didn't fit the same any more (not that he wanted to put on most of them any more, just the shiny leather number but he had to get it tailored for the new dimension of his chest and hips). Yes, he's different now and that difference is something that he's gotten shit for from people he thought were friends and something that people he thought hated him were supportive of. It's been a roller coaster of strangeness and that was before Pops suggested relaunching his music career.

He left music because he knew the reactions would be. Mixed. once things got off the ground for his transition. Music never left him-Pops has multiple videos of him humming melodies and tapping beats from doctors' offices and one in a hospital bed-but the scene? He assumed the scene left him well behind.

Then Pops came to him with this insane idea and told him that these two young pups, rising stars and rough diamonds the both of them, were jumping and chomping at the bit. Marco didn't know what to think. He told Pops he'd reserve judgement until they met, but even then the hotcold churning in his stomach of anxiety was steadily eating his confidence of this whole thing working.

Then he meets them and despite the fact that neither of them knew who he was now, they were adorably eager just as Pops said. And, just as Pops said, they're talented if a bit raw. Unrefined, somehow. Both have a similar feel-rough voices in a slightly high medium range, but what really grabs Marco's attention is that they both actually play. Something that's fallen out of fashion in newer bands, that their lead vocalists know what to do with a guitar in hand, they both pick up an axe during the experimental jam session and they aren't too bad either. They know classic riffs and stings, whole lead lines from classic and punk rock staples.

Then something of a miracle happens. Ace picks up a bass and smacks out a fairly simple beat on 5, jumping octaves, and Sabo picks up Marco's old stage piece and. Oh.

That's the lead and bass of "I Feel Fine" and Marco's nothing if not a perfectionist for the classics. He grabs the mic they rigged up for his studio, coughs to clear his throat, and-

Ace does something to the bass beat, a lick or two to change things juuuuust a little and Sabo slips a few 16th and 32nd notes here and there, little twangs to change the key down a half step and suddenly its not The Beatles any more, it's something a little rougher, a little less refined, it's something from the back alleys of a queer bar that Marco used to dress butch for where he got called a good man for the first time. It's like being in love, if love were a dirty suckerpunch and a cigarette after-if love was two men who might not always be men-if love was a little less straight.

That ends up being the second song on the album a year later, a fucking Beatles cover that rockets them right to the top of the charts in multiple countries and forces Marco back into the spotlight no matter how much he tries pushing the younger stars forward and blames them for the majority of their sound. Three vocalists who trade off is definitely strange, especially since Marco is....well, not 'Marci' any more.

But it works, somehow Pops' insane idea doesn't explode in their faces, and if there's maybe a little charged something that happens in the limo ride home from their first awards show, something that's been building for months and months over heated eye contact and falling asleep on each other in the studio and appreciative whistling during the set and costume set-up of music videos, well.

That's their business and nobody else's. And if that charged something results in Ace stumbling down into Marco's kitchen in the middle of the night only to scream at Thatch who's in the tradition of making Marco breakfast after award shoes (started before Di-Angel and 'Marci' ever got big), who then screams right back at him which draws both Sabo and Marco down to see what the goddamn noise is about. Well.

That's also their business and nobody else's. (yes Thatch even you, get the fuck out of my kitchen, goddamn-yoi)

#AR writes #a modern musician trio #fuck this was fun and I got to shoutout one of my favorite guitar songs thanks raccooon

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mabsolgirl · 1 year ago

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Headphone warning

Transcript below! :3

I made this a while ago, around when I first started making art of the Supernova AU AU. There have been some slight changes since then but I wanted to post this anyway since its been just sitting in my drafts and starting to get dusty. The changes aren't enough to alter anything in the audio in a major way anyway so neeeeh.

It's been a while since I did voice stuff so hopefully I don't sound terrible lol

Obligatory @linxprime ping cause au of their au

Watch me pull world lore outta my ass cause I still don't know what im doing

-------------------------------------------------------

In the ruins of a crashed and destroyed ship, you find a strange audio file labeled "Project Supernova". You made a copy of it and now you have the time to give it a listen...

--------------------

Transcript

Warning. The following video is the private property of [REDACTED]. Any outside or uncertified personnel caught viewing this video will be terminated by any means necessary. Viewer discretion is advised.

Log 1.

I am Dr. Jane Doe and I’ve recently been put in charge of “Project Supernova” after the old one quit. I decided to keep audio documentations of my findings and observations. I find it easier for me to document things by recording them by audio then writing it all out later.

Project Supernova is a study on the abilities of intelligent lifeforms, how they manifest, if different abilities can be manifested in specific situations, and researching the phenomena of Berserkers. Before I came in, an embryo was successfully fertilized and grown into a stable state. There were many failed attempts with this being the only one that has made it this far, living for roughly 12 years as of this recording. To be honest I question the decision to make a lifeform rather than study the cases of people who already have abilities, but the higher-ups wanted to do this rather than the simpler way.

Regardless it is planned to come out of the tube once it reaches 13 years, which is a couple months away. It should be stable enough by then. Until then we monitor it for any changes.

End log.

Log 2.

Right, so I forgot to mention info about the lifeform last log. My bad, heheh.

So, the lifeform is female and it was made with the DNA of multiple organisms with the two primary ones being Human Earthling and Cuixcus. I think I pronounced that right. Cuixcus was used for their adaptability and Human Earthlings to counteract the weaknesses of the former. It has bones, can withstand hotter temperatures, and while it doesn’t need to, it does breathe oxygen. The DNA from other organisms were used to help stabilize it so it doesn’t just die spontaneously. The genetics chosen specifically to see if heritage has an influence on what abilities would appear.

Now the real reason I am logging this. Earlier today it was monitored that specs of light were floating around the lifeform’s tube. They looked so… ethereal. It was like looking at a cluster of tiny stars. I should probably mention that the lifeform is in an unconscious state. It has been like this since its creation and this was the first time these lights were documented. They disappeared before we could study them. Maybe it dreamt them up? We’ll have to keep an eye on it.

End log.

Log 5.

Today it came out of the tube, emphasis on “it”. We weren't supposed to take it out for another week but I guess it had other plans. One second it was in the tube, the next the lights appeared again and it was out and fell face-first into the equipment. It teleported itself out.

Since it wasn’t connected to the machines anymore it woke up quickly after that. Of course we were all freaking out but it didn’t seem too bothered by us. We ran some tests and it was stable. It bruised its head but other than that it wasn’t significantly injured.

It’s a very curious one. It would grab and inspect what we had. We let it for the most part and it would hand us back what it had when it was done. Right now it’s in its own room that we had to quickly scramble to finish putting together. It’s a quiet little one. The team and I decided on the name “Nova” after the project. As per usual we’ll keep an eye on it.

End log.

Log 27.

A lot happened today. Today is the first day Nova went into her Berserker state. The first thing I noticed was that she was much calmer than I expected. I expected a rampaging beast like the other cases of Berzerkers but Nova would just… stare at us. We kept an eye on our monitors to watch to see what she does and then we watched her create light orbs; like the ones from one of my first logs but much bigger. This time we were able to scan them to see what exactly they were…

They’re stars. I am not joking, she was making literal stars, balls of collapsed burning gas, in her hands! From our observations they disappear when she loses focus but still incredible nonetheless! We later figured out the key piece to what her abilities are: a limited form of matter manipulation. She can teleport herself, and those she touches, by willing her own matter into another space and the stars are made by manipulating the matter of gas and dust to collapse in her hands. It is theorized she can manipulate any form of matter so long as physical contact is made.

After a while she went out of Berserker state and fell unconscious. We hooked her up to make sure she’s alright. Right now she’s comatose; we’re hoping she comes back alright.

End log.

Log 39.

Earlier today one of the higher-ups came in and told us that we were not needed on Project Supernova anymore and that in the coming days a new team would be coming in to take over the project. Of course we were outraged. We were consistently giving them good results! We did what we were told! We did nothing wrong, didn’t question a thing. Nothing we said could convince him otherwise. None of us wanted to leave the project. I’ll admit, Nova has grown on us. She’s like family and now for some reason she’s being taken from us. When he left we all decided to look into it ourselves.

The more we dug, the more things began to not add up. Then… we found something. We’re not here to do what we think we’re doing. We’re gonna get Nova out of here. This place is no longer safe. We’ll get her out and we’ll be the whistleblowers to this place.

End log.

Log 40

…I’m… I’m sorry…

Dr. Jane Doe, Dr. Bailey Shindo, Dr. Margoba Entano, Dr. Manbagea Nals, and Dr. Ripley Hedon have been terminated. Project Supernova assets will be transported to [REDACTED] for further completion by a new team effective immediately. End communication.

#my sister compared this to mewtwos backstory and tbh shes not wrong #btw the name Jane Doe was a placeholder name since its commonly used to refer to someone dead that cant be identified (John Doe for dudes).#the name kinda just stuck while i was making this. I might draw Jane sometime in the future since i have design ideas #art #fnaf au #fnaf oc #supernova au au #i know the supernova posts dont do well but i dont care! i like making them :3 #im really happy with the scene at the end. the weird humming does have a purpose. id like to see if people can identify it >:)

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k1ddiecat · 7 months ago

Text

Accidents Happen (Legion)

Summary: David's first time regressing since being rescued in the pilot and features only him and Melanie.

Word count: 1233

Author's note: David's regression would be like all other parts of his conditions kinda out of his control and hard to manage. I think that's what I find so comforting in him.

Content warning: Involuntary age regression, mention of wetting accident

Melanie rubbed her eyes and took a few minutes to put on a gown before answering the knock at her door. Almost never had she encountered a knock at the door in her time at Summerland and not a banging desparate, frantic, or her husband's voice echoeing from the cieling, updating her on the current emergency. This was a knock, calm and polite as anything.

When she opened the door David was there, soaking wet and hugging himself lightly. "Umm...I kinda..." he looked down at his wet socks. "I need clean sheets." He said finally.

For a moment she didn't quite put it together. The young man had only been here one night before this one and admittedly she didn't know what to expect. Every mutant they found was different, unique as their specific mutation but David was shaping up to be more different somehow.

"Oh you've...Oh. Well." Melanie pursed her lips.

"I'm sorry." He continued. "I don't know if there's someone else I should call in cases like this or..."

She moved a strand of hair back into her nightcap. "No, no we don't have a maid or anything like that. And I don't expect you to remember where the washing is anyways. Let me put on my slippers."

"I don't want to keep you up or anything if it's... I know it's not very normal for boys my age. Y'know maybe I should just...."

She put on her slippers and reappeared in the doorway. "Boys your age?"

He stared at her blankly.

"How old are you David?"

"Five. And a half." He showed her on his fingers spreading his hand palm facing her.

Melanie raised an eyebrow. "Oh. I see."

She followed him back through the hallall the while thinking. He seemed to genuinely believe what he said. And yet the age records Carey was able to pull listed his age as 29. He certainly looked 29. She remembered Oliver at that age when they met on the cusp of 30, a wild confidence in his eyes. This one seemed only wild. He wasn't thinking clearly. But why?

Inside his room she surveyed the soiled sheets. He looked at her expectantly so grab the sheets she did and started walking with him down to the laundry room.

"Do you know where you are, David?"

He nodded. "Summerland."

"Do you remember how you got here?"

David stopped walking briefly and clasped his hands to his face. "Oh no. You can't tell Syd. Please, please , please don't tell her. You gotta promise."

Melanie watched him in the low warm light. There were certain times where she wished she too was a mind-reader.

"I promise."

This seemed to pacify him and they resumed their trip to the laundry.

Nights were when Summerland seemed the emptiest. The same windows designed to let it the light of day had to be shuddered against the encroaching dark. Insects buzzed loudly from outside and most of the automated voice systems were off automatically. At night Oliver was truely gone except in dreams which were often unpleasant. Or in memories conjured by Ptonomy on the rare nights she dared to remember him properly.

The washing machine took the garments and began working, filling with water. David watched her acutely as she shook in the soap and set the timer as if he'd never seen it done before and was trying to take note. There was something almost cute about him.

Summerland was her and Oliver's child. Any conversations Melanie used to start about having a family always morphed into a discussion about the future and about how the best thing they could do for the world was to protect its young mutants. Pretty soon Melanie learned to stop bringing it up. These days she felt more like a general in a war than a mentor and certainly not a parent.

She glanced again at his wet clothes. "David maybe you should take those off and wash them. Here. There are some spare clothes in the linen closet somewhere."

Together they rummaged through the empty closet in search of something long enough to fit him. The closet was the chosen storage space for the tentative Summerland excersize uniform, yellow tracksuits with brown accents. Thankfully he didn't ask Melanie to dress him but seemed unbothered at the idea of her seeing him naked.

After all, she thought, he's five what is there to see. A thought occurred to her and nagged itself into her vocabulary. "You should take a bath. Do you need help."

David nodded again heartily.

The section of the building David stayed in had communal bathrooms but the full baths were located in the suites. They had to pass by the sleeping quarters of the rest of the team to get there and Melanie quited him with a finger to the lips. Something about his malleable attitude made this sort of fun.

She ran the warm water and added maybe a bit too much soap so there would be lots of bubbles which impressed David very much. He splashed and played and she poured and scrubbed. In a short time he was clean and dry and ready to go back to bed.

"Do you have any bedtime pants?" David asked.

"What do you mean?"

David blushed slightly. "You know. In case I have a' accident."

"Oh" said Melanie, understanding. "No. I don't think so. Did they keep you in...bedtime pants at Clockworks?"

David nodded. "Just in case. Mostly I made it to the potty by myself."

Melanie wondered if Carey could be trusted to secure diapers in adult sizes. He'd be curious of course and she'd have very few answers to give but he would do it ultimately. He wasn't fond of leaving Summerland but Kerry, from what she understood, wouldn't understand what it is anyways. Maybe David was something like them, two different people of two different ages who happen to share the same body.

"Could it wait until the morning?"

"Yeah. Can you tuck me in?"

Melanie agreed and they walked back to his corridor. On the walk back she noticed he'd stopped dragging his fingers along the wall, or trying to hold her hand. He moved less wanderingly, more purposefully. When they got to his room he turned around.

"Melanie?"

"Yes?" She replied but in his eyes she could see the David of yesterday morning again. Whatever this state was had passed like the clouds from in front of the sun.

"Why are we walking to my room in the middle of the night?"

She searched for the words to explain but realization dawned in his expression soon after.

"Oh no. Did I...?" She nodded. "And I asked you to clean the sheets?"

"I volunteered. It's okay." And she found herself smiling comfortingly despite not knowing exactly what was ok.

He looked as if he was going to apologize again but then, as if he could sense he had before just said. "Thank you. It's...part of my whole..." and gestured broadly to his head.

Melanie nodded.

"Right. Well... goodnight." Said David and he opened the door into his room. Before walking in he stood there in the doorway, facing the dark. His blue eyes, bright as daylight even in the dim light darted to the corners.

"Would you still like to be tucked in?" Asked Melanie.

And David looked back at her and smiled.

#crayonfic #sfw agere #fandom agere #legion fx #david haller #involuntary age regression #i hope putting the fic in main fandom tags is ok...i dont usually like doing that

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