#Iris fry

[waltercrowemakesart]

So, I’ve been listening to the DumbDumbDice podcast “Blood and Syrup”, and it has been slowly taking over my life. But there is literally nearly zero fanart or posts about it. And I think that’s fucking criminal! Riddley Beef alone could take up a bulk of the fanart. So it’s wild to me that there is almost zero fanart! Do yourself a favor. If you like vampires, or the system Vampire: The Masquerade, go listen to Blood and Syrup. The characters are lovely, the story has been intriguing so far, and the episodes are really easy to listen to. So, if you see a man built like a short fridge covered in blood on my blog, you’ll know why.

[canelablutegel-cave]

Blood and Syrup aesthetic board!!!

I have been OBSESSED with this show for a while and saw that there wasn’t much in the fan department, so I decided to make this.

[evanatsuhi]

hold on now

[beatbude]

Tax Free is going on tour! Iris, NoSign, Yosa Peit, Employee, Yeahlena, Gerry Franke, TBZ, Paingel, Jürgen Ratan, Funkycan, Grrrr, Weird Dust, Calypso Steve, Master of Illusions, Fry Ry, Marathon Man, Winkhorst Reisen, Carl Luis, FM Pause, DJ Puddle and many more.

[velvees-archive]

Some post-SOJ DLC case thoughts about Edgeworth, his opinion on marriage, and by extension, love.

…and how, at the very center of this discussion is one Phoenix Wright.

Contains spoilers from 3-5, 6-5 and 6-DLC

As if the subtext wasn’t enough.

I wanted to share some thoughts about the DLC case and Edgeworth's insistence on remaining unwed, which, from what I've seen, is a commonly employed gotcha moment against NaruMitsu (because all relationships must end in marriage, right? /lh). Don’t get me wrong, I don’t really mind. I just…didn’t find the dialogue exchange very damning.

Coming off 6-5, where Edgeworth says this,

I saw the DLC as an extension of Edgeworth's sentimentality, this time directed at Phoenix’s romantic prospects.

To make my stance clear, I don’t think Edgeworth is blind to romantic overtures; he just doesn’t care about them very much. As in, Edgeworth is largely unaffected by and uninterested in matters of the heart (with a concession that he is obtuse when it comes to people expressing interest in him, unless they're Wendy Oldbag over the top about it). But even if you feel he's terrible at sensing romantic tension, my argument still stands. Edgeworth doesn’t care about romance, and we never really see him prying into anyone’s romantic relationships…

…with the exception to this being Phoenix Wright’s.

From Bridge to the Turnabout:

Sorry for the janky screenshots. I didn't didn't take 3-5 pics on my Switch so I had to search for YouTube clips. Let the record show I actually really enjoy Feenris PLUS I love angst, so this interaction was…chef’s kiss.

Assuming Edgeworth doesn't care about romance but he can understand romantic signaling, this is already pretty condemning. Why are you poking around Phoenix's business if you're so uninterested in love? Surely, there are bigger fish to fry, like investigating the Inner Temple Garden because the clues found could be vital to catching the victim's murderer?

Assuming Edgeworth sucks at detecting any romantic undertones, the implications are even worse. You're telling me the guy who doesn't know the first thing about romance somehow clocked Phoenix and Iris's chemistry this quickly? How? For what reason were you able to catch it? How attuned are you to Phoenix's personal affairs?

Now, shifting back to the DLC case, we have this lovely interaction when you show Miles the wedding chapel pamphlet:

Something to note with Phoenix’s “W-Wait. You’re not thinking about finally settling down and getting married, are you?” is that the screen flashes and we hear the damage sound after the “W-Wait."

Once again, Miles inquires about Phoenix's love life, this time after Phoenix asks about his. I've analyzed my fair share of Miles Edgeworth dialogue, and I don't think he pingpongs questions just to make conversation (see: “Say something, Wright. I’m not good at small talk.”). This leads me to believe he was genuinely curious and (subtly) trying to fish for information. And why would that be the case?

My overarching point is this: Edgeworth isn’t as obtuse about romance as everyone makes him out to be (both in-universe and from a fandom perspective), which makes his mentioning marriage plans around Phoenix even more suspicious. The way the scene reads to me is that Edgeworth, in Phoenix’s company and swept away by the intimate atmosphere, lets his interest in Phoenix Wright slip through the cracks once Phoenix shows him the pamphlet. It's sentimental of him and it surfaces—once again—while he's investigating a case. At risk of sounding repetitive, there are bigger fish to fry.

It'd be less suspicious if Phoenix had similar conversations with other cast members he shows the pamphlet to, but it never gets to be this personal, even when he presents it to Maya, his best friend.

Good news if you feel otherwise about my “Edgeworth isn’t that obtuse” headcanon though, because should you believe he is actually just that clueless, you now have to contend with this:

If Miles can’t pick up on all things love, why is he so attuned to Wright’s (and to my knowledge, only Wright’s) romantic prospects in particular?

So yeah. Checkmate, I guess. Edgeworth might not be interested in marriage or love, but he’s definitely interested in Phoenix’s partners, or lack thereof. Take that how you will.

[mochinomnoms]

the twins trying to explain their polycule to the twins (tiny size):

Floyd: Okay so, do you two know what that means?

Jade is behind them drawing in a whiteboard to explain Floyd's attention span is going to be in either one of those fry

Pearl and Coral without skipping a beat: Another parent to whine and pout to get more siblings???

Jade and Floyd just smiling mischievously instead of confirming or denying: ...

Yuu and Azul watching from the nearest room

Yuu: Oh no

Azul: sigh

The cutest thing is the interactions and first meetings with the hatchling!! It goes either way the lil hatchling is a bit slippery and so the twins (tiny size) are panicking a bit when trying to hold it and the other is just big curious eyes looking at the hatchling that barely takes up their plam wrapping it's tiny tentacles around anything it can find to feel it's surroundings (the hatchling still has their eyes closed but thanks to pearl's and coral's pleads under much precaution get to hold it) oh and grandma Ashengrotto helping coral and pearl learn how to play but softly!!

Pearl: So.. Would this be alright? test bite

Grandma Ashengrotto internally: HOLY FU-

Grandma Ashengrotto: Try going a bit softer dear..!

Progress is progress though!!

Also please someone stop Pearl and Coral from having an "I am a better older sister!" fight (I remember having that happen to me with my older cousins and they would always ask which one of them was my favorite cousin little me was so confused)

-Vaquita

The (little) twins don't really care about the specifics, they're just happy to know that Zuzu will get to stay around a lot longer, and now they can call him Baba!

I forgot that in "Delights of Being Zuzu" that there were also the triplets (Poppy, Moss, and Lumiro). So the little hatchling, Beryl, also has three siblings of similar age to grow with! He's small, but still a bit bigger than the triplets, with Moss being the smallest as a berry. Even so, Beryl quite likes curling his tentacles around his siblings when sleeping, which Poppy and Lumiro do in kind with their tails. Moss is content to get squeezed by the three of them.

However, Pearl and Coral are still learning how to play gently with their siblings. You're correct that Pearl likes to play by biting, which is a habit that Yuu, Azul, and Mama Ashengrotto, or Iris, try to deter. They tell her to go bite her Papa and Dada (aka, Jade and Floyd) instead. At least until the fries are big enough to handle their rambunctious sister. Thankfully, Coral is more than helpful to play fight with Pearl!

They do fight over who is the better (*cough*favorite*cough*) sister. Coral is confident that it's her because she's nicer, and Pearl is rough. Pearl is convinced it's her because she's fun and Coral's boring. The fries are sleeping while they fight about it. They do not care, they want to nap.

[the-name-is-z]

SKELETONS | masterlist

daryl dixon x f!oc series

ao3 link

Summary: After the apocalypse took everything Iris held dear, a new opportunity presents itself in the form of a bag of guns. Little does she know, that bag of guns starts something much bigger than she ever could have anticipated.

Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; more warnings for each chapter

Season 1

Chapter 1 - The Bag

Chapter 2 - The Deal

Chapter 3 - The Group

Chapter 4 - The CDC

Chapter 5 - Dr. Jenner

Chapter 6 - Time Runs Out

Season 2

Chapter 7 - Outlands

Chapter 8 - Manhunt

Chapter 9 - The Farm

Chapter 10 - At What Cost

Chapter 11 - Diving In

Chapter 12 - Easy Mistakes

Chapter 13 - Gunslinging

Chapter 14 - Out of the Frying Pan

Chapter 15 - Saviour

Chapter 16 - Recover

Chapter 17 - Calm

Chapter 18 - Execution

Chapter 19 - Rotten

Season 3

Chapter 20 - East

Chapter 21 - Little Things

Chapter 22 - Company

Chapter 23 - Bloodshed

Chapter 24 - Where Else

Chapter 25 - Loss

Chapter 26 - Found

Chapter 27 - Woodbury

Chapter 28 - Merle

Chapter 29 - New Arrivals

Chapter 30 - Clarity is Hard to Come By

Chapter 31 - Home Away

Chapter 32 - Old Friends

Chapter 33 - It Comes Around

Chapter 34 - Tombstones

Season 4

Chapter 35 - Risk

Chapter 36 - Too Close

Chapter 37 - Quarantined

Chapter 38 - No Smooth Sailing

Chapter 39 - Inhale, Exhale

Chapter 40 - Pieces

Chapter 41 - Bonding

Chapter 42 - Never

Chapter 43 - Partly Cloudy

Chapter 44 - Alone, Not Alone

Chapter 45 - Us and Them

Chapter 46 - Sunshine and Daisies

Season 5

Chapter 47 - Threats and Promises

Chapter 48 - Or High Water

Chapter 49 - Weary

Chapter 50 - Perception

Chapter 51 - Bound

Chapter 52 - Burned

Chapter 53 - Hostage

Chapter 54 - Cavalry

Chapter 55 - Days Gone Bye

Chapter 56 - Wanderers

Chapter 57 - Soul Searching

Chapter 58 - Resources

Chapter 59 - Go the Distance

Chapter 60 - Alexandria

Chapter 61 - Uniform

Chapter 62 - Worn In

Chapter 63 - Fate

Season 6

Chapter 64 - Plans

Chapter 65 - Surviving

Chapter 66 - Wolves

Chapter 67 - Code

Chapter 68 - Heads Up

Chapter 69 - Defence

Chapter 70 - Walking

Chapter 71 - Strangers

Chapter 72 - Miracles

Chapter 73 - Pretty Rough

Chapter 74 - Disruption

Chapter 75 - Hilltop

Chapter 76 - Half

Chapter 77 - Not Tomorrow Yet

Chapter 78 - Dread

Chapter 79 - Unfinished

Chapter 80 - The Darkness Ahead

Chapter 81 - Last Day on Earth

Skeletons will be on a small hiatus between seasons! Be back soon! <3

Season 7

Chapter 82 - Day One

Chapter 83 - Something Borrowed, Someone Blue

Chapter 84 - Live to Serve

Chapter 85 - Daylight Burning

Chapter 86 - Seeing Red

Chapter 87 - First Prize

Chapter 88 - Where to Go

Chapter 89 - Jailbird

Chapter 90 - Heartbeats

Chapter 91 - A Start

Chapter 92 - Rocks in the Road

Chapter 93 - The Kingdom

Chapter 94 - Homesick

Chapter 95 - Storm Brewing

Chapter 96 - Reaping and Sowing

Chapter 97 - Heartbreakers

Chapter 98 - Mercy and Pity

Chapter 99 - The Rest of us

[flwrkid14]

Percy Jackson and the Inexplicable Curse of Technology

We need to talk about how Percy Jackson is cursed when it comes to technology. I’m convinced it’s an unspoken side effect of being the son of Poseidon. Like, water and electricity don’t mix? Well, Percy and tech definitely don’t either.

He’s the kind of guy who tries to send a text and the app crashes. The moment he touches a computer, it blue screens. Even the camp’s celestial bronze laptops? Yeah, Percy’s somehow managed to short-circuit three of those. Chiron gave up on him ever learning how to check his email, and let’s not even mention the time he tried to Facetime Annabeth. It was like watching static for ten minutes before the phone completely died.

Annabeth’s always been the one who has to fix everything. She’ll sit there, watching Percy try to reboot his phone for the umpteenth time, giving him that look™—you know, the “I love you, but how are you this helpless” expression. Of course, Percy just laughs it off with, “Guess I’ve got that Poseidon charm.” Annabeth tries to stay annoyed, but she can’t help but smile when he’s being that cute.

And don’t even get me started on how dangerous it gets when Percy’s actually near water with his phone or laptop. Like, one time he brought his phone to the beach, and five minutes later it was toast. He swears he didn’t drop it in the ocean, but somehow, the sea still managed to fry it. Probably Poseidon’s way of telling him, “Stick to your strengths, kid. Like battling monsters. Not… texting.”

Let's be real tho—Percy probably doesn’t mind the tech struggle all that much. He’s the guy who’d rather be out exploring the ocean or goofing off with his friends at camp than stuck in front of a screen. And, really, as long as he can still get Iris messages and, you know, save the world, who needs a working laptop anyway?

[sodamnradd]

Mixed Signals | AO3

Dramione / 14.7K (complete) / rated E

Everything was fine until Ginny started shagging Draco Malfoy.

Or, Ginny and Draco spark up a friends with benefits relationship but after countless visits to their flat, he falls for Hermione instead.

They threw a pan on the stove and drizzled it with sesame oil and broke out all the leftover vegetables in the fridge. Ginger and chilli peppers from her garden and bell peppers and half a courgette.  Hermione was about to stand behind the frying pan when Malfoy came up behind her, placing a hand on her hip. “You look beautiful tonight,” he said in a low voice. His chest was warm against her back, his breath soft on her cheek. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you that.” “Thank you,” she replied in a stupor. It wasn’t just the compliment, but the soft caress of his voice, its possessive twinge, the way he towered over her, especially now that she’d taken off her heels. She trembled. “I love this colour on you.” He plucked the strap of her iris top. “Brightens up the whole room.” She smiled and felt his fingers flutter over her curved lips. “Not as much as this, though.” A fleeting touch before he nudged her away from the stove and took her place.

[buzzkillchainsaw]

More or less direct continuation of this comic:

I.

Isamu pushes against the door. A little bell above him signals his arrival as he enters the restaurant. Warm air and the smell of fast food hit him in the face, providing a hint of much-needed comfort. He doesn’t get too far before he reaches the back of the line that trails all the way to the cashier taking the orders. Isamu balances on his tiptoes to catch a glimpse at the colorful screens advertising all the different menu options while his hands juggle the warm coins in his pocket. Not enough for a full meal at an actual restaurant, but maybe enough for a burger and some soggy fries?

The bell rings out again behind him and a man walks past the customers waiting in line to talk directly to the cashier. Isamu is too busy to care, because he’s finally close enough to decipher the menu prices. Cold sweat runs down his back and he grips the coins tighter and tighter with each step he makes towards the cashier. He pulls a hand out of his pockets to nervously scratch an itch on his neck. The boy recoils at the white grime that has now appeared under his fingernails, wiping them on his jeans and using his sleeves to get rid of any remaining crumbs of dirt still left on his neck. It’s his turn in line now. 

“Welcome to Boss Burger, may I take your order”, the cashier asks in a rehearsed melodic tone. 

“I-” Isamu’s voice sounds like a stranger’s. He hasn’t used it in days. “What would be the, um, cheapest option you have?”

“Cheapest?”, the cashier asks, a bit too loud for his taste. But despite the medical mask on her face he can tell that she’s trying to shoot him an encouraging smile. No other worker is wearing one. “Cheapest would be 5,95 for the “Essential taste” burger. But…” She leans forward with a secretive glint in her eyes. A whisker, like a cat’s, pokes out behind her mask and she uses a gloved finger to push it back.

“...don’t you wanna dream a bit bigger? Your uncle’s paying for it, after all.” 

Isamu’s head whips around to see who she’s pointing at. It’s the man who walked past him earlier, now sitting at a table in the back and waving at him with a friendly smile. Isamu’s thoughts are racing. Who is this man? Was he following him? Why is he claiming to be his uncle? Why is he claiming he’ll pay for his food? Isamu looks at the man, then at the cashier, then at the screens above her circling through slideshows of beautiful, tasty, yummy food. A growl escapes his stomach. He raises a hand and points to the “Double decker X-treme Special” menu.

The man’s irises are an unnatural shade of silver. A splinter, obviously. Isamu doesn’t pay attention to much more than that. He sits down across the man and begins destroying the burger, fries, salad and soft drink before him. No moment is wasted. He could flee the scene and switch faces at any moment if that man tries to pull anything weird. A few minutes later, the boy slows down as his hunger is finally satiated. Still, he shoves some remaining fries in his mouth and finally looks up to face the man.

“What do you want from me?”, Isamu asks.

“Not even a hello?”, the man answers. “Ah, kids these days.”

Isamu narrows his eyes at him and bites into another fry.

“A few years ago I caught a mysterious illness," the man begins. “It caused my cornea to just” - he makes a flicking motion with his fingers - “fall off my eyes. My iris followed soon after. You can imagine my shock.”

Isamu shrugs and swallows the fry.

“Doctors told me that my eyes were completely destroyed, that I’d be blind for life. But against all odds, everything grew back the way it was. Except for one difference.”, he points at his silver irises. “That was Year Zero. You were probably born around that time, weren’t you?”

“I know where splinters came from, old man.” Isamu wipes his mouth with his sleeve and reaches for the straw in his soda cup. “You obviously want something. What? Have you been following me?”

“Guilty”, the man jokingly throws up his hands. “But I was about to reach that part before you interrupted me. Now, where was I - eyes, yes. As you pointed out correctly, I gained a splinter that day. A splinter that allows me to look at people and see the exact extent of their powers.”

Isamu stops playing with the straw. If that is true, this man knows what he can do. And he’d always be able to point Isamu out in a crowd, no matter what face the latter was wearing. Is he a cop? Is this an undercover operation? But why would the man tell him all that if he was about to put handcuffs on him anyway? This is strange. He’s trying to build rapport with Isamu, for whatever reason. Maybe to get him to confess to something?

“It’s amazing to watch it in real time.”, the man comments and brings Isamu back to reality. The boy’s hand shoots up to his face and touches fur. All those nervous thoughts had subconsciously turned him into some kind of animal. Isamu scowls and reveals sharp teeth.

“If you’re the real deal, then tell me what I can do.”

“Of course. Your splinter allows you to change everything above, um, right above here.” The man raises a finger and draws an invisible, horizontal line right above Isamu’s collarbones. “Human heads, animal heads, even fantastical creatures and monsters. The genetic makeup stays the same though, that might pose a problem if you leave evidence at the scene. And, hm, I can see that holding a head is kind of like flexing a muscle for you, it causes great discomfort if you have to do it for an extended period of time. Shifting shape brings you relief. Interesting…change as the natural state of self.”

He was good. Isamu decided that it was now time for the ultimate question: “And what does my original face look like?”

The man furrows his brows a bit and leans in closer. His silver irises, now finally visible up close, seem to be made up of countless thin rings in various metallic shades. His pupils jump from tiny to huge, like a camera lens.

“I don’t see one. You’ve been changing faces since before you were born, haven’t you?”

Isamu nods. His parents had convinced the doctors that his “original face” was one of the handful of approved appearances they forced him to emulate. And so, it was written down in all of his files.

"Anyways. I won’t waste any more of your time, buddy.” The man reaches into his bag, pulls out a simple white envelope and gently slides it over to the boy sitting across him.

“What’s that?”

“Keycard to a hotel room, so you can bathe and sleep in a real bed for a change. And a bus ticket, so you can reach it before it gets dark. And …”, he lightly taps the envelope once, twice, three times. “...the business card of the guy paying for all this. You might wanna give him a call if you feel like saying thanks. There’s a phone in the room, so no excuses!”

The man wags his finger and winks. Isamu presses his lips together and fixates his gaze on the envelope in front of him. The words that the man had spoken earlier, “...if you leave evidence at the scene…”, echo in his head. This envelope is obviously the ticket to a shady, mysterious, potentially even dangerous world. Whoever’s behind this needs Isamu and his splinter for something and he’s willing to pay handsomely.

“Sure. Maybe I will”, the boy says and pockets the envelope. The man says goodbye, pays for the food and leaves.

II.

“Hello?”

Isamu is sitting on the freshly made bed, phone in one hand and the business card in the other. “Atsushi Murakami - real estate” it says in simple black letters.

“Murakami real estate, this is Hakoda speaking, how may I help?”

“Oh. Um. I met with a man earlier who gave me a card and a hotel room key. He said to call this number. I don’t know his name, but he had silver eyes.”

“Of course”, the woman on the other line says, “I’ll connect you.”

Click. Music. Isamu stands up and begins to pace around the room. The fluffy bathrobe he’s wearing brushes comfortably against his skin with every step. He passes the bathroom door and peers inside to check on his dirty clothes. He can’t wash them, but airing them out next to the open window might at least get rid of some of the smell. Click. The music stops.

“Good evening. The young Isamu Yamamoto, I presume?” The voice sounds like it belongs to a strict middle aged man, perhaps a teacher or the boss of a company. Not someone to be messed with either way.

“Uh, that’s me. Yes.” Isamu doesn’t bother asking how the man knows his name.

“My name is Atsushi Murakami, nice to meet you. Is the hotel room to your liking? If you get up early tomorrow, you may also enjoy the excellent breakfast buffet.”

“Yes. Thank you, um, sir. I wanted to ask - why all this?”

“That’s a matter best discussed in person. But I will say this: I know who you are, I know what you’re running from and I know how to put your talents to good use. If you’re interested in hearing more, join me for dinner tomorrow at the “Grandieux”, 8pm sharp. It’s not far from your hotel, so you’ll make it in time.”

“Oh.” Isamu needs a moment to think. “Should I … look a certain way so you’ll recognize me?”

“That would help tremendously. How about tan skin, blonde hair and green eyes?”

“Tan skin? I can do tan skin, but everything below my collar will stay pale. It might attract attention.”

“A valid concern.”, the man says, “You’re free to choose the skin, then. I look forward to meeting you, Yamamoto. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

Click.

III.

Isamu is woken up by a loud knocking at the door. It’s the cleaning service, he needs to leave. On his way down to the lobby he sees a sign advertising the opening hours of the breakfast buffet, but a quick look at the big golden clock on the wall tells him that he had already missed everything by a long shot. Hunger gnaws at his stomach and makes his limbs heavy. The coins in his pocket only allow for a tiny candy bar from the vending machine in the lobby and it’s far from filling. He tries pickpocketing someone in the streets, but he draws too much attention to himself, forcing him to flee and change faces in a hurry. The hours go by painfully slowly and all the comfort and relaxation from the previous night at the hotel fade with each step on the cold, hard pavement. Then the rain starts. Isamu spends the remaining time wandering around a shopping mall and sipping water from the bathroom faucets. 

Finally 8pm arrives. He’s hungry, tired and every bone in his body aches for a place to lie down. Despite everything he steps into the bright golden light illuminating the restaurant from the outside. A man stands at a desk right by the entrance.

“Do you have a reservation?”

“Isamu Yamamoto. I’m supposed to meet Mr. Murakami at 8pm.”, Isamu replies and silently begs all heavenly forces above to not let the receptionist kick him out after catching a whiff of his clothes.

“Right this way.”

The receptionist leads him to a door labeled “staff only”. Isamu briefly imagines a room full of wizard magic sticks before he’s greeted with yet another dining area, smaller this time. The windows are covered by thick red curtains and the door closing behind him seems to shut out much of the noise from the rest of the restaurant. The receptionist shows him to a table near the end of the room. That’s where Atsushi Murakami is sitting, Isamu presumes. He is a middle aged man with black hair and a prominent mole on his face. His attire, consisting of a suit and tie, is professional and clean. Another chair at the desk is occupied by a similarly clothed boy, about the age of six or seven maybe. The boy has blonde hair, green eyes and tan skin.

“Welcome, Yamamoto.”, Murakami says and reaches out to shake Isamu’s hand. “Sit down please. Are you hungry?”

Isamu nods. Murakami hands him the menu. It’s printed on heavy paper and there are no prices next to the fancy sounding menu items. A server appears out of nowhere, notebook in hand. Isamu raises an eyebrow and looks at Murakami, who nods encouragingly. Isamu orders. Out of the corner of his eye he can feel the boy staring at him.

“As you already know, my name is Atsushi Murakami. I own Murakami real estate, which is on its way to become one of the top players in Mirai City. But the real money doesn’t come from renting houses. It’s renting splinters.”

“Renting.”, Isamu says. “Renting to whom?”

“Anyone and everyone who needs a very specific solution to a very specific problem.”

“What “problem” would you use someone like me for?”, Isamu asks. Murakami nods. 

“Shapeshifters are rare, even partial ones like you. You can be used for anything that involves a face - someone that the police will search for fruitlessly. If you grow up a bit, you’d make a menacing bank robber even.”

There it is. The confirmation that this really was something criminal. Something dangerous. Something that could potentially get him in prison, or worse, killed. All the signs were there, Isamu just needed confirmation. 

“And what if that is not the life for me?”, he asks. Murakami shrugs and cuts into his steak.

“We all make choices. You can choose to go back to the streets, without parents, education or even a roof over your head. You can choose to report me to the police, but I’ll always have more dirt on you than you have on me. Or you can choose to leave everything behind and start working for me. My real estate business isn’t just for show - I’ll find you a nice place suited to your tastes and you’ll never have to sleep outside again.”

A woman approaches Murakami and leans down to whisper something in his ear. He nods and stands up. “Excuse me, Yamamoto, I need to step out for a second. Don’t let Yuu talk your ear off!”

Isamu and the boy, presumably Yuu, are left alone at the table. He looks at the kid and tries to force a smile, but the boy’s stare doesn’t waver. His eyes look tired and wide awake at the same time. It reminds Isamu of the kid in his class who always walked around in hoodies and long-sleeved shirts no matter the weather.

“Was that your dad?”, he asks the boy. The latter tilts his head for a second, then nods.

“He’s absolutely loaded, isn’t he?” The boy just looks at him silently. 

“With money, I mean. Lots of money.”, Isamu adds. The boy understands and nods.

“Damn. Your room is probably stuffed to the brim with all the latest games and toys, huh?” The boy furrows his brows and shakes his head. This one sided conversation is making Isamu sweat nervously, and the boy’s piercing green gaze and overall miserable appearance doesn’t help. He never was good with kids, especially sad ones.

“Hey, how about this: What’s your favorite animal?”, he asks the boy.

“Lion.”, he answers with a thick accent.

“Alright”, Isamu says, “Let me show you a magic trick then. Close your eyes.” 

The boy obeys.

“Now open them.”

The boy opens his eyes, wider and wider as he realizes what has happened: Isamu has changed his head into a lion’s, complete with a bushy brown mane that hangs over his shoulders.

Finally the boy’s stone cold expression shifts.

He smiles.

[inksolate]

Jaiden's Cucurucho Headcanons

(From the Blue Bird Mission VOD)

Drinks boba tea (and tea in general)

Eats mild/medium spicy foods (for a little kick)

Connoisseur of brocoli, carrots, potatoes, mushrooms

Fav flower: Iris

Loves white sand

"French fry" guy

Travels for fun (backpacking and collecting souvenirs)

Getting stuck in vines and face full of moss traversing swamps

Likes loot from orcs (especially orc teeth and soul remnants)

Enjoyer of foxes, racoons, tortoises

[bored-storyteller]

Warning: none, mention of bones but very metaphorical

Tokyo Ghoul, Uta X Human!Reader

Moon

You feel a lump in your throat tighten as you walk around the dark room.

Usually the light is always on, waiting for you, no matter what time you arrive.

“Uta…?” You call, while inching forward, already expecting to get no answer. Something must have happened to him, you think just before all the anxiety melts away.

"I’m here. Take it easy…"

You sigh with relief as his soft voice reaches you from the bedroom.

Even if there is not a single light bulb lit, the lights of the city color the room with warm and elusive colors, urban lights of the suburbs of Tokyo, the living Tokyo of those who hide from the sun.

He's sitting on the bed, his back to you, the red iris looking at you over his shoulder is surrounded by an artificial yellowish reflection that makes the black background shine lowly. In the clutter of an underground artist's room, all that would be missing would be the smell of instant ramen or two in the morning frying, but you know there can be no such thing in a ghoul's house.

“The scent of your fear is all too inviting.”

Yes, the only smell of food that can be there is yours.

“I wasn't afraid.” You mutter.

"I wouldn't mind if you admit it."

Even if he is joking, what you have in front of you is a serious Uta.

You lie on your stomach, your head is close to his thighs and your gaze flees beyond the window where his is lost too.

“How was your night with your human friends?” He asks you, and you think for a couple of seconds to answer; it could be a trap, or it could be a good way to figure out what's going on in that twisted head of the most complex and absurd person you know.

"Boring?" You try uncertain.

"That's a lie, but I appreciate the effort."

A submissive grunt escapes you, but you soon focus back on him: “What about you? What are you doing?"

“I contemplate the moon.”

The moon. The moon adapts to him: so fickle, surrounded by darkness, variable, never the same but always itself.

Now, beyond the lights of the suburbs, it’s a thin segment, a germ that has yet to grow, a vaguely orange hue that could resemble a smile.

“It looks like a backbone.” Uta says, and you look at him with exasperation in your eyes.

"Seriously? We can watch a horror movie if you really feel like it.”

Now even his eyes seek yours, they feed on them.

You look at each other in the silence, both of you waiting for something, but then it's you who speaks: "Do ghouls and humans see the moon the same way?"

Usually it's you who gives this kind of answers, you who justify your nature in front of him, but this time you came first. This time he is the one who has to let you know what floor each of you are on.

"I guess you see a slice of melon, or the smile of the Cheshire Cat... instead I..."

“Even the poet and the scientist see two different things, that's not what I mean.”

Now you are sitting too; your left knee brushes his right. Uta looks at them for a moment without saying anything.

"Yes…I guess the moon is the same for everyone." He finally admits.

“And it's different for every single person in the world.” You add, bringing your meditation back to the satellite beyond the bright blanket of the city.

“Was it the melon or the smile?” He asks you after a while.

"The smile."

"Banal."

“I'm tired of being imaginative!” You retort pouting, now looking at his profile who has also turned his nose up towards the sky "and it's always better than your macabre taste."

“It could also be a rib.”

You puff. You rest your head on his shoulder and a yawn escapes you, it's been a long evening.

"Stop that."

"All right…"

Your fingers begin to trace the black lines on his arm, you almost don't look at them, your touch follows them, you know his skin almost as much as yours.

"Sometimes I forget that you belong to the world of those who see the smile of the moon..." He says quietly, and you're not sure you really heard.

He won't say anything else, and you know it. It's already so much that I've discovered that little thread of his soul, the one that's always tense when you go out with someone who's like you.

"The moon doesn't care about us." You say.

"How cruel."

"Or reassuring. Ghouls or humans, we are nothing before the universe."

You raise your head but you don't look at him, your eyes remains beyond, beyond humanity and all the worries that for better or for worse are destined to end.

"This is even scarier. In theory." He tells you, but you feel his lip piercing cool a tiny piece of skin from your neck. He will kiss you, or bite you.

It doesn't really matter.

It doesn't matter if the ghoul's presence is so reassuring to the human, it doesn't matter if someone judges them. Their union is not that important, not under the sight of the moon.

[chalkstardust]

Day 9: Compatibility for @lastdaysofwar

Newt fucked up.

On the one hand, he proved that he was right, which is awesome! On the other hand, Pentecost wants him to Drift again, which is significantlyless awesome.

Because while Newt stands by how groundbreaking an idea it was, the issue of compatibility never even occurred to him. Whoops? 

He's lucky he didn't fry his brain, and probably has Hermann to thank for that. If he hadn't gotten to the lab when he did... well, let's not go there. Honestly, Newt shouldn't be compatible with anyone, so it was always going to be a risk. Lack of compatibility doesn't technically mean you won't be able to Drift together, you're just more likely to have a bad time. Hard to say if this one counts as "successful" considering he's dealing with an alien species, but since he didn't die, he'll take that as a win. 

"Go the corner of Fong and Tull," Pentecost says, taking a card from his jacket pocket and handing it over to Newt. "Show them that card, look for that symbol."

At first, he thinks Pentecost means both of them, but no, he needs Hermann up in LOCCENT, so Newt's on his own.

Hermann looks like he wants to object, but instead turns to follow the Marshal out of the lab. Orders are orders, huh? It's fine, Hermann probably would've hated being dragged around the city anyway, especially in the rain. Still, Newt can't help but feel a bit disappointed. For a minute back there, after Hermann pulled him out of the Drift (and Newt managed to make out what the fuck was happening), he'd thought that maybe... maybe there was still something there, after all this time; Hermann had been pretty freaked out. Or maybe he would've reacted that way to finding anyone in that situation. If it had been the other way around, and Newt found Hermann like that? Shit. He'd have a fucking a meltdown.

But things went down the way they did, and he doesn't really have time to unpack all that right now. He's got a mission. 

Newt pockets the card, along with a small black light to reveal the hidden symbol. Admittedly, that parts's pretty cool.

Grabbing his jacket, he stops to take a quick glance in the mirror above the lab sink. Ugh. He has definitely seen better days. Leaning forward, he examines the red ring around his iris, trying to decide if it looks off-putting or badass. Who knows, between that and the dried blood on his collar, maybe Chau will find him intimidating.

Hopefully he won't give Newt too much trouble. And hopefully he'll have what they need. 

"Do we really hope that?" Newt asks his reflection. Yes, yes we do. It's only the fate of the world at stake, ha ha no pressure. He takes a deep breath. Fortune favors the brave, right?

He's a rock star, he can do this.

He's already done this. Doing it a second time, though?

Newt's either coming back a hero, or not at all.

[ntls-24722]

Debu Neanderthals!!!

Also known as the Simmons.

So! These guys are based off of DJMM's beta design! The teeth are stained just like in Debu but instead, they're stained with tannins, which is the same stuff that gorilla teeth are often stained with in the wild that makes their teeth black! Because of that, and the way it chips, I was able to make them kind of resemble the green soundwaves on his old mouth. They also have black scleras and more prominent iris colors, which I hoped would resemble the look of his swirly eyes? Their evolutionary reason is so that it's easier to follow gazes the same way we have white scleras, except they went the different direction and had the irises to be really bright and prominent so they stand out as much as Sans's eye. Debu kind of technically went the same way we do, it's just less... constant?

Onto the general, non-djmm-related traits: They don't live in the same place as the Debu, they're in a more tropical environment where sunlight isn't so damn harsh and is also a lot wetter - their skin lighter and smoother than Debu for those two reasons respectively. They're smaller, even though there's more food, but there's less space since there's also a bunch of trees, and for that reason they're actually a lot more vertical than the very wide debu, since they don't really climb. These "neanderthals" also have a less flat face unlike the Debu who look like their faces got smashed in with a frying pan, they still have a little bit of their basal snouts, and they also have a lot more hair than Debu, they still have their fur - just as a long mane though. Finally, they don't have as much mouth-glow - they still do have some! their very red mouths are due to the weak, red bioluminescence that they do have. Their environment is darker than usual just due to the sheer density that the land coral canopies have, so the bioluminescence is still kinda useful, but the darkness doesn't compare to the complete darkness that Debu live in, in their cliffside caves.

Also; they're sapient! So hooray on them. So now there's 2 Debu and 2 Zebrapeople (i'm not counting the quaggaelves... that one's sapience is kinda sus)

There's a secret third "debu," it's not a member of their genus like this guy is, but it's more like member of their family that I wanna talk about but I need to set a specific, spooky stage for them

[ljjsims]

Greek Goddess legacy Challenge: Generation #11 Artemis: Completed

Protectress of girls, goddess of the hunt and the moon and so much more, here is Artemis!

You grew up in a loving family, a total mama’s girl. You work hard to win and be the best, win medals. But, as you grow, you find that medals just don’t do it for you. You feel way more fulfilled when you help people around you. When you care for helpless creatures. There are people and animals out there who can’t fend for themselves. And you can. You can save them. Anger boils in you when you see all those sims mistreated and hurt. So you promise yourself you will cure the world, sim by sim.

Little bit explanation with the sheets: - First sheet is for describing your current generation, with the challenges you need to do each life-stage. Also, because I love the myths, a bit of mythological background. May it inspire you :) - Second sheet is the preparation sheet for this generation, with important characters for your story. It is technically optional, but I love seeing sims with a backstory in my world, so I would highly recommend it. - Third sheet is for your gens children. They all have their own little challenges if your interested in those. I try to make all of them a bit different from each other, so it doesn’t get boring. Your heir is also on this sheet, but I’ve put their challenges on their own sheets. Stay tuned for those ;) - Fourth sheet is completely optional. If you want sims with names from the myths and love making sims to see them in your world, this is for you! All with a little mythological background ofc, you know me.

Next Generation is Iris! Previous Generation was Nike First Generation is Gaia

The Greek Goddesses Challenge by LJJ-Sims is a challenge based on the ancient mythical creatures and stories from Greece. I fell in love with Greek mythology in high school and have not let that love go since. In this challenge you will follow 10 deities in their journey through life. Every goddess has a different take on and goal in life. Special about this challenge?  All your kids have little challenges of their own, not only your heir. These challenges are optional, so if you feel like these are too much or just too restricting for you: by all means let them go. I also have sheets for characters that you can make before you start each generation. This gives your challenge a lot more personality and makes it frankly easier and more fun!

A little disclaimer: because I made these gods and goddesses into a legacy challenge, the relationships in the myths don’t exactly match the relationship in this challenge. There is a lot of keep it in the family in mythology, to put it lightly. And apart from the fact that you can’t do that in the Sims, I don’t really like that part. So I didn’t include it, thus the inconsistency. An example: Ares is now Hera’s stepfather instead of her son, which she conceived with her brother  and husband Zeus. This inconsistency can also be found in the stories. It’s just based on and not copied exactly, as Sims live lives that are a lot shorter than those of immortal gods. And it takes a way from the creativity if we just copy the myths. Even if we wanted to do that, it’s quite hard, as every myths has its fair share of variations and some are just completely different stories.

I use the MCCC-mod to alter the length of life states. You can find the days-years ratio here: the boring stuff.

I get all the information from several sites about mythology, but mostly use https://greekgodsandgoddesses.net/goddesses. This is a great place to start if you want to know the myths surrounding a certain god or goddess. Wikipedia is also a friend of mine in this challenge, although I automatically doubt a lot of information that is on there. More of a book person? I absolutely adore Stephen Fry’s Mythos, which is very beginner friendly, and Nathalie Haynes Pandora’s jar. For little synopses of gods, I would recommend Greek Mythology: The Gods, Goddesses, and Heroes Handbook by Liv Albert.

[flamingator]

⛏️ 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛 🕯️

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Late to the party, but I finally finished the ref for my TF2 oc, The Prospector! A small, scrungly, bushy dwarf man who usually is on the defense with his motion-activated mines and shotgun!

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Ramblings and close-ups below! ⚙️

💡The Prospector is my 10th class TF2 oc, specializing in defensive game modes (Capture the Intel/Point). You’ll usually find him hanging around Engineer the most, as Prospector’s motion-activated mines are perfect to snag cloaked Spies! His melee ranges from his trusty pickaxe to the iconic frying pan, and for his 3rd weapon slot, a short-ranged weapon of some sort!

🕯️The Prospector’s full name is “Benedito ‘Bento’ Ribeiro”, and he originates from Ouro Preto, Brazil; a town with a mining history! He is a 45 latino man at the grand ol’ height of 5”4’ (and is teased endlessly by the other mercs about his height) :,]

⛏️On the battlefield, Prospector is a competitive bastard, thrilled in the high of battle and running on pure adrenaline. His smaller height also serves as an advantage despite the other’s teasing, as you’ll usually see him skittering across the map and is often overlooked >:]

Prospector doesn’t talk as much as most mercs, but will have snarky remarks for Domination lines or light insults. Other than that, you’ll usually hear him mutter insults or swears under his breath in his native language, Portuguese.

🪕Off the battlefield, Prospector is more mellow, quiet most of the times and only talks if he really has something to say. He’ll always try to appear gruff and indifferent, but he’s really an emotional bastard; easily flustered and has a soft spot for certain things (and people), such as his plants!

Prospector has a big soft spot for plants, ranging anywhere from succulents to plants from his home country (like the Walking Iris!). He’ll slowly collect all sorts of flora as a hobby, and if he’s not tending to his plants, he’ll practice music on his harmonica, or indulge in his other hobby; Lapidary!

Being a lapidarist, Prospector collects gemstones of all kinds, either from his own mining adventures or just as a collector, and will turn the gemstones into pieces of art. He has a small collection so far, creations ranging from animals to objects! Usually, a way Prospector shows his way of appreciating (or that he likes you as a mutual/friend) is leaving a hand-shaped gemstone of some kind of design in your living space!

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Anyways, that’s all I have for now, I’m really looking forward to drawing Prospector more, potentially with other mercs! Feel free to also request seeing Prospector interacting with any specific mercs (or even other TF2 ocs!✨). Thanks for sticking around this far and reading about my TF2 blorbo! 💖