#MAGNETS MAKE MACHINES GO CRAZY!!!!!!!!!!!

[pussymasterdooku]

leadmetothegarden -> somekindofcosmicrearrangement

i love you grease in your hair dot mp3

[inklore]

if it's one thing your girl is great at it's making a million different google docs full of lists full of resources, ideas, etc that will help future me when it comes to posting fics.

fic titles are literally one of the biggest lists i have and not even in a perfect world where i write ten fics a day would i ever be able to use all of these, and i don't like to see things go to waste, and i know there's people out there that struggle with titles as much as i do. so i hope this list comes in handy for someone!

i don't think i need to say this but just in case: no one owns fic titles, anyone can use these, a dozen people or one or none. these are literally just words and letters. no one owns them. sharing is caring, enjoy lovies!

★ — ONE WORD.

overboard 

runaway 

repercussions 

sledgehammer 

stargazing 

symmetry 

deathless 

honey 

retrograde 

stitches 

gravity 

helpline 

hollow 

suffer 

pushing 

warrant 

want 

wonder 

emotions 

nonchalant 

lavender 

daydream 

nosebleed 

jigsaw 

static 

float 

limbs 

hologram 

careless 

lush 

rotting 

phonograph 

hypnotic 

splinters 

magnetic 

wasted 

lithium 

dealer 

she

candles 

sabotage 

secrets

better

crescendo

deny

phenomenon

nights

guilty

move

criminal

blue

rise

thirsty

strangers

clockwork

closer

hectic

change

somebody

more

misery

like

sour

lowkey

peaches

she

nervous

sympathy

scars

disappear

melody

gemini

cruel

persona

supernatural

nectar

obsessed

casual

tryant

xo

dare

honestly

yummy

out

paradise

nuts

groin

heaven

lost

stardust

tangerine

monolith

lunch

pov

perfume

dealer

tough

arson

★ — TWO WORDS.

hush hush

night away

heart stop

stone heart

waiting for

black rose

sad kids

spine breaker

look here

autumn leaves

for you

spring day

love maze

bad decisions

take two

wild flower

blue side

rainy days

face off

slow dancing

polar night

like crazy

club heaven

deeper water

romantic devil

hold me

angel eyes

picture you

after midnight

twilight zone

drain me

sorry sorry

pretty please

how sweet

bubble gum

empty box

love therapy

play me

red velvet 

cherry bullet 

midnight guest 

cherry wish 

code words

ghost walk

bad intentions 

atlas hands 

broken crown 

crystallized words 

filthy pride 

fresh eyes 

heavy feet 

hungry ghosts 

imaginary paintings 

neon jungle 

perfect storm 

slow hands 

stop signs 

sad farewells 

untranslated stars 

after hours 

bad liar 

bonfire heart 

bruised lips 

cherry bomb 

damaged goods 

dead end 

fire away 

gunpowder hourglass 

lonely together 

lost language 

old moons 

one dance 

paper knees 

sleepy eyes 

stolen dance 

vice city 

artificial heart 

cry baby 

daylight fading 

dream awake 

empty bottle 

exit wounds 

ghost orchards 

moving stones 

paper walls 

oceans away 

playing fiction 

something wild 

wild thoughts 

everybody’s fool 

eyes closed 

storms incarnate 

writing tragedies 

stereo driver 

soul searching 

party’s over 

backseat driving 

fearful heart 

backwards directions 

nosebleed seats 

high hopes 

lovers rock

wet dream 

selfish soul 

washed away 

rose rogue 

midnight sun 

teenage fantasy 

wandering romance 

sure thing 

wildest dreams 

rock candy

losing momentum 

ruin you 

heart holiday 

sink her 

cut splinters 

hot mess 

frozen devotion 

little star 

blind faith 

favorite crime 

romantic homicide 

those eyes 

play pretend 

plot line 

pretty poison 

intimidate you 

pretty face 

strawberry kisses 

lovers rock 

worlds apart 

desperate/separate ways 

those eyes 

the blonde 

loving machine 

spill blood

someone’s someone

★ — THREE WORDS.

got my number

happy without me

not over you

crazy for you

back to you

flame of love

just one day

let me know

hold me tight

make it right

closer than this

love me again

still with you

out of love

never let go

love in space

ready to bleed 

bleed for love

between the bars 

can’t be still

cold morning mist 

in cold blood

matter of time 

piece by piece 

ship to wreck 

taut with love 

waste a moment 

can’t see straight 

down and out 

in a blackout 

just like fire 

notes on tenderness 

across the room

fire with fire 

going half-mad

loving to ruins 

rust to gold

send my love 

talking in code 

cradling a dream 

cut to black 

dear to me 

run me dry 

dancing with demons 

kiss and tell 

if you care 

the cry out 

steal this night 

just for now 

heart on fire 

hold my head 

nobody but you 

simple and plain

a familiar sound 

fool for you 

drown your memory 

falling into you 

just like heaven 

warm like beaches 

love that stings 

rotting in places 

moves on you 

save your tears 

a single tear 

light my cigarette 

long nights, daydreams 

boys like you 

love me forever 

hands on me 

like a phonograph 

taking over me 

dug so deep 

touch the ground 

heart shaped box 

where’s my love

tears of gold

lover of mine 

love me wrong

kiss or kill 

exes and why’s 

love is easy 

stupid in love 

easy to love

lost with you 

glimpse of us 

keep you safe 

death with dignity 

just like heaven 

heart of glass 

baby i’m yours 

pull my strings 

★ — FOUR+ WORDS.

love me a little

happy without me

you can't hold my heart

wishing on a star

give it to me

around the world in a day

waste it on me

this mess is yours

feeling like i do 

on a war path 

blood on the surface 

corner of the sky 

do the divine love 

drinking the corinthian sun 

everything is laced in (add word) 

lost in the moment 

in the nick of time 

mouth like a pomegranate 

the bones you’re made of 

when the mania speaks 

all desire & no thought 

blue in the face 

collapsing and relapsing 

middle of the night 

sail to the sun 

lay down your arms 

falling into the sky 

take me where your heart is 

she’s like the bad weather 

kill for your love 

the cigarette and the smoker 

the match and the fuse 

saint, i’m a sinner 

when the sky comes falling 

pretty little hand in mine 

even when the sun don’t shine

staring at the sun / sunset 

tangled up with you all night 

paper airplanes flying 

maybe i’m a fool 

tastes like rock candy 

blood in a lemon

(a) heart ready to die 

fate is losing its patience 

at least we feel alive 

death for your secrets 

someone’s gonna ruin you 

dancing in a crowded room 

smell you on my clothes 

always taste like you 

leave me wanting more 

hunger for (insert here) 

swim before you drown 

put your hands on me 

drink my (these) tears and cry 

i’d sleep all day just to dream of you 

so high we never stood a chance 

i’d break down anytime for you 

maybe i’m wrong, or maybe it’s true 

i only breathe so that i breathe with you

a worn out cassette 

lips on my cold neck 

talking in my sleep 

make me feel like someone else 

locked inside your heart 

hooked on her flesh 

it’s bloody and raw 

the angel of small death 

just a couple sinners 

smiles cover your heart 

charmer and the snake 

stuck on your thumb 

if i killed someone for you 

dancing with your ghost 

i miss you, i’m sorry 

woman of the hour 

shut up and look pretty 

queen of the night 

devil in a dress 

the thought of you 

to be your lover 

falling over you 

just like a movie 

love on the line 

[elryuse]

Flower Of Evil

Yandere Bibi X Male Reader

Tags : Female Teacher Bibi, Male Teacher Reader, Yandere, Obsession, FUCKING CRAZY YANDERE GIRLSSS, Gore, Thriller, Killer Words : 5,808 Words

A Wonderful and Dangerous Looking Fic Commision for My Friend @Pizza_anon on Ko-fi. I hope You Guys Like it.

Hana All-Girls High School wasn’t the kind of place you expected to end up teaching at. The ornate gates, sprawling cherry blossom trees, and whispers of an elite reputation gave the school an air of refinement that seemed more suited for a period drama than real life. The school grounds were pristine, almost unnervingly so, with neatly trimmed hedges and meticulously arranged flowerbeds that were a riot of color all year round.

Being the only male teacher in such a prestigious institution came with its challenges—and unexpected perks. The students’ giggles and sly glances were harmless enough, albeit a little awkward at times, while the occasional over-the-top friendliness from certain faculty members made things interesting. There was a certain charm to being the center of attention, but you also knew the risks. Too much attention in a place like this could be a dangerous thing.

But there was one person who stood out above the rest: Ms. Kim Hyung-seo, known to the staff and students as “Bibi.” With her sharp wit, piercing gaze, and an undeniable presence, Bibi was magnetic. Her long, dark hair framed a face that was as elegant as it was enigmatic, and her wardrobe—always a perfect blend of professional and alluring—didn’t go unnoticed. Her intelligence and charisma made her popular among the students and staff alike, but it was the way she focused her attention on you that made her impossible to ignore.

You and she had struck up an easy camaraderie, often sharing coffee during breaks or exchanging quips during meetings. She had a dark sense of humor that matched your own, making her a welcome confidante in a school filled with pastel colors and prim behaviors. Yet, despite the undeniable chemistry, you kept things professional. You weren’t blind to the implications of being the sole male teacher in an all-girls’ school. Lines had to be drawn, and you were determined to stay on the right side of them.

It was during one of those casual coffee breaks that Bibi first hinted at something more. “You know, it’s not every day we get someone like you here,” she said, her tone playful but her eyes intent. “A lone wolf among a sea of flowers. Must be… intoxicating.”

You chuckled, brushing off the comment. “It has its moments,” you replied. “But it’s just a job at the end of the day.”

“Just a job?” she repeated, arching an eyebrow. “Come on, Y/n. Don’t tell me you don’t enjoy the attention just a little bit.”

“I enjoy the teaching,” you said diplomatically. “The rest… is just noise.”

She laughed, a low, melodious sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re interesting, you know that?” she said. “Most people would jump at the chance to be in your position. But you—you keep your distance. It’s… admirable. And frustrating.”

There was a weight to her words, a tension that lingered in the air long after the conversation ended. You didn’t dwell on it too much at the time, chalking it up to harmless flirtation. But in hindsight, it was a warning you should have heeded.

It was late, the school’s faculty lounge dimly lit as you finished grading papers. The soft hum of the vending machine and the distant sound of rain against the windows were the only sounds breaking the silence. You’d stayed late to catch up on work, your desk piled high with essays and test papers. The exhaustion was starting to set in when the sound of heels clicking on the tile floor announced Bibi’s arrival.

“Burning the midnight oil, I see,” she said, sliding into the seat across from you. Her voice was smooth, almost soothing, but there was an edge to it that made you glance up. Her smile was playful, but her eyes… there was something in them you couldn’t quite place. Hunger, maybe? Or was it something darker?

“Just trying to stay ahead,” you replied, forcing a smile. “The workload here doesn’t leave much room for procrastination.”

“You work too hard,” she said, leaning forward. “You need someone to take care of you.”

You laughed awkwardly, shaking your head. “I’m fine, really. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “I mean it,” she said, her tone softening. “You’re always so composed, so distant. You don’t let anyone in. It’s not healthy, you know.”

“That’s kind of you, Bibi, but I—”

“I’m serious,” she interrupted, her voice dropping to a whisper. “We’re good together. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too.”

The sudden intensity of her words caught you off guard. You hesitated, searching for the right response. “Bibi, I value our friendship, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to mix work and… personal matters.”

Her smile faltered, then disappeared entirely. For a moment, her face was unreadable, and then she laughed—a low, unsettling sound that sent a chill down your spine. “I see,” she said, her tone unnervingly calm. “You’re one of those types. Always keeping a distance.”

“It’s not like that,” you began, but she held up a hand to silence you.

“It’s fine,” she said, standing abruptly. Her movements were sharp, almost mechanical. “You’ll see things my way. Sooner or later.”

She left without another word, the sound of her heels echoing down the hallway. You sat there for a long time, the weight of her words settling over you like a suffocating blanket. Something about the way she’d spoken, the way she’d looked at you, made your skin crawl. You tried to shake it off, convincing yourself that it was just a misunderstanding, but deep down, you knew better.

The first disappearance was written off as a student skipping town. Hana High had its fair share of rebellious teens, and it wasn’t uncommon for students to run away from the pressures of their privileged lives. Emily Kang was one of your quieter students, a shy girl with a love for literature and a talent for staying invisible. When she didn’t show up to class one day, it barely raised an eyebrow.

The second disappearance, however, couldn’t be ignored. Sarah Lee was a star athlete, a bright and vivacious girl who had dreams of making it to the Olympics. Her sudden absence sent shockwaves through the school, and the administration scrambled to maintain control of the narrative. Whispers began to circulate, rumors spreading like wildfire among the students.

By the third disappearance, the school was in a state of quiet panic. Every missing girl was from your class, their last known locations eerily close to your classroom or office. The whispers started almost immediately.

“Do you think Mr. [Your Last Name] had something to do with it?”

“He’s the only man here. Isn’t that… suspicious?”

You tried to keep your head down, but the weight of their gazes was suffocating. Even the faculty seemed wary, their once-friendly smiles replaced with strained politeness. All except for Bibi.

“Ignore them,” she said one afternoon, her tone almost tender. “They’re just scared. You’re not like that, and I know it.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, though her words did little to ease your anxiety.

It started with small things. Subtle, almost unnoticeable at first.

Bibi’s once-playful comments became sharper, laced with an undertone that felt heavier than before. Her lingering stares grew longer, her presence more pervasive. If you stayed late grading papers, she’d appear in the faculty lounge as though summoned, her voice warm yet uncomfortably intimate.

“Working late again, [Your Name]?” she’d ask, setting her things down far too close to yours. “You know, you’re going to burn yourself out.”

“I’ll be fine,” you’d reply, trying to brush her off. But she didn’t take the hint.

She started bringing you little gifts—a coffee placed quietly on your desk, a neatly wrapped bento left in the teacher’s lounge with your name on it. When you thanked her, she’d smile and brush it off, saying, “It’s nothing. You need someone to look after you, don’t you?”

At first, you chalked it up to her being kind—maybe overly kind. But then the notes began.

Folded pieces of paper left in your desk drawer, tucked between lesson plans, or slipped into your bag. At first, they were innocuous: “You work too hard. Don’t forget to take care of yourself.” Then they grew more personal: “I can’t stop thinking about you. Why do you keep your distance?” And finally, unsettling: “We’re meant to be together. You’ll see that soon.”

You told yourself not to overreact, that she was probably just being dramatic. But a knot of unease began to twist in your stomach every time she was near.

Meanwhile, the school’s atmosphere had turned tense. The disappearances of the students cast a heavy shadow over the once-bright hallways. Fear rippled through the faculty as meetings grew longer and stricter policies were enacted. The headmistress, Ms. Ahn, called for heightened vigilance, urging the staff to look out for anything unusual.

“Nothing about this feels random,” Ms. Ahn said during one meeting, her voice firm but laced with worry. “We need to be vigilant. Our students’ lives depend on it.”

The staff nodded solemnly, but the silence was heavy. You could feel the eyes of your coworkers on you, brief flickers of suspicion that burned into your skin. The whispers had grown louder, and no amount of professionalism could drown them out entirely.

“It’s always his class…” “Do you think he knows more than he’s saying?” “No one’s saying it, but come on—he’s the only man here.”

Bibi, however, remained steadfast in her support of you—or so it seemed. “Don’t let them get to you,” she said one afternoon, cornering you in the library where you’d sought refuge. Her hand brushed against your arm, lingering longer than necessary. “They’re just scared. They don’t know you like I do.”

Her words were meant to be reassuring, but there was a possessiveness in her tone that made your skin crawl.

The rain poured heavily that night, drumming against the windows of the faculty lounge as you packed up your things. The building was almost eerily quiet, the usual bustle of students and teachers replaced by the hollow sound of distant thunder.

You were halfway out the door when Bibi appeared, her umbrella dripping with rainwater. “Leaving already?” she asked, her voice light but carrying an edge you couldn’t place.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a polite smile. “It’s late. I should get going.”

Her lips curved into a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Actually, I was hoping you could help me with something.”

You hesitated, every instinct screaming at you to refuse. “What is it?”

“It won’t take long,” she said, stepping closer. Her tone was soft, almost pleading, but there was something behind her eyes—a darkness that made your chest tighten. “There’s some old equipment in the storage room I need help moving. I can’t do it alone.”

It was a reasonable request, but something about the way she said it set off alarm bells in your mind. Still, you couldn’t think of a good excuse to decline. “Sure,” you said reluctantly. “Lead the way.”

She smiled, her expression brightening as though you’d just given her the greatest gift. “This way,” she said, turning on her heel and motioning for you to follow.

The storage room was in the oldest wing of the school, a part of the building that was rarely used and often avoided. The hallway leading to it was dimly lit, the flickering fluorescent lights casting eerie shadows on the walls.

“Why are we storing equipment all the way back here?” you asked, trying to mask the unease in your voice.

“It’s just temporary,” Bibi replied, glancing back at you with a smile. “Budget cuts and all that.”

The storage room itself was cramped and cluttered, filled with old desks, broken chairs, and other discarded items. The smell of dust and mildew was overwhelming, and you instinctively wrinkled your nose.

“What do you need me to move?” you asked, eager to get this over with.

Bibi didn’t answer right away. Instead, she closed the door behind you with a soft click, her movements slow and deliberate.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she said suddenly, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of tension that sent a chill down your spine.

You froze, turning to face her. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she said, stepping closer. Her eyes bore into yours, intense and unblinking. “You’ve been pulling away ever since… that night.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” you said carefully, trying to keep your tone neutral. “I’ve just been busy. You know how things have been around here.”

She laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter sound. “Busy? Is that the excuse you’re going with?”

“Bibi, I don’t know what you want from me,” you said, your voice firm but steady. “But this isn’t the time or place for—”

“You don’t know what I want?” she interrupted, her voice rising. “I’ve made it so obvious, haven’t I? I’ve been patient, [Your Name]. I’ve been so patient. But you just keep pushing me away.”

Her words hung in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and suffocating. Your heart raced as you realized the door was still closed behind her, the only exit blocked by her presence.

“Bibi,” you said cautiously, taking a step back. “I think we should talk about this another time. Let’s just—”

“No,” she said sharply, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. “We’re talking about it now. I’ve waited long enough.”

Her hand darted out, grabbing your wrist with a grip that was surprisingly strong. “You don’t have to be scared,” she said, her tone softening but her grip unyielding. “I can take care of you. I can protect you. You don’t need anyone else.”

Your mind raced, every instinct screaming at you to get out of there. “Bibi, you’re scaring me,” you said, your voice low but steady.

Her expression faltered, her grip loosening for just a moment. “Scaring you?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to scare you. I just… I want you to see that we’re perfect for each other. That no one else can love you the way I do.”

Before you could respond, the faint sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway outside, growing louder with each passing second. Bibi’s eyes widened, and for the first time, you saw something resembling fear cross her face.

“We’ll finish this later,” she said quickly, releasing your wrist and stepping back. Her voice was calm again, but her eyes burned with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

And then, just like that, she was gone, leaving you alone in the dimly lit storage room with the echoes of her words still ringing in your ears.

The next day, the atmosphere at Hana All-Girls High School was thick with a sense of dread. What had once been a place of pristine order and careful decorum now felt suffocating, as if the very walls themselves were closing in on the remaining staff and students. The administration had called for an emergency assembly that morning, but no one had any answers. The disappearances, once seen as isolated incidents, had now escalated into something far more sinister.

The number of missing girls had skyrocketed overnight. It wasn't just a few anymore. Entire groups of students had vanished, leaving behind only the cold traces of their absence: empty classrooms, untouched desks, and silence where there should have been chatter and laughter. Word had spread like wildfire, and the police were now involved.

At first, it seemed like a routine investigation. Officers had arrived early, their presence a sharp contrast to the usual calm of the school. But things took a turn when an anonymous tip came in to the police station. The caller had reported that the school "reeked of rotting flesh."

The police, initially skeptical, decided to search the school grounds thoroughly. As they combed through the halls and classrooms, something felt off. It wasn’t just the unsettling atmosphere—it was the way the air felt heavier, as if something had shifted in the very foundation of the building.

Their search led them to the oldest wing of the school, the same wing where the storage room was located. It was there that they made the horrifying discovery.

Behind a hidden door in the back of the building, they found what they were looking for. A room that had been sealed off for years, its contents hidden from view. The moment the officers stepped inside, their stomachs lurched with the putrid stench that assaulted them. The smell of decay was unbearable, but it wasn’t just the scent. It was what they found that would haunt them forever.

There, scattered across the floor, were the bodies of fourteen girls—the missing students. Their bodies, though horrifyingly still, were unmistakably recognizable. Each one had been carefully placed, their eyes frozen in terror. Some of them had been there for weeks, the flesh decomposing and leaving behind an undeniable testament to the horrors that had been carried out in the school.

The police immediately cordoned off the area, their faces pale with shock. Their disbelief was palpable as they contacted their superiors and called for backup. Within hours, the entire school had been shut down, and a full investigation was underway. No one could believe what they were seeing. How had something like this gone unnoticed for so long? And who could have done this?

The answer seemed to lie somewhere within the walls of Hana All-Girls High School, and the staff, including you, were now the prime suspects.

As the school was shut down, a team of officers arrived to interview and interrogate every staff member, carefully scrutinizing their movements, their alibis, and their actions in the days leading up to the discovery. They were methodical in their questioning, but there was an unmistakable tension in the air. Everyone was a suspect, but no one seemed to have any answers.

You were pulled aside along with the other teachers for questioning. The interrogation room felt cold, sterile, and far too small for the weight of the situation. They asked you about your interactions with the missing students, about the times you had stayed late, and about any unusual behavior from your colleagues. The questions were pointed, but your mind kept drifting back to Bibi. She was the one who had been so insistent on keeping you close. The one who had shown a possessive streak that now made your skin crawl.

But the officers seemed to have no interest in her—at least not yet. They focused on you, on your proximity to the girls who had disappeared. Your heart raced as you tried to explain yourself, but every answer felt inadequate. How could you explain the unease you had felt around Bibi? How could you explain the mounting tension that had built up, culminating in her increasingly erratic behavior?

The more you spoke, the more it seemed as though you were digging yourself deeper into a hole. The officers' expressions were unreadable, but you could see the way their eyes flickered with suspicion, darting to the door and back to you.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally let you go, but the relief was short-lived. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched—by the police, by your colleagues, by the students. The whispers had grown louder, and now the school was a place of palpable fear.

You tried to leave the school grounds, but as you stepped outside, the weight of the situation hit you all at once. The police had set up a perimeter, blocking off the entrance, their flashing lights painting the campus in an eerie glow. Reporters had gathered outside, their cameras flashing as they tried to get the latest scoop. And then, there was the growing presence of the students—some standing in small groups, some sitting by themselves, all looking at you with expressions that ranged from curiosity to outright suspicion.

In that moment, you realized that the true horror was just beginning. The questions weren’t just about the missing girls anymore. The questions were about you, about everything that had happened in the school, and about Bibi.

Where was she? What had she done? And what role had she played in all of this?

The police were now focused on interviewing every staff member, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Bibi was at the center of it all. Something told you that the nightmare was far from over—and that the darkest part of it was yet to come.

The atmosphere at Hana All-Girls High School had shifted from one of confusion to pure dread. As the investigation tightened, the police presence around the school grew heavier. The corridors that once echoed with the sounds of laughter and youthful chatter were now eerily silent, save for the occasional murmurs of officers and students whispering about what had transpired.

The school administration was on edge, its staff shaken to their core. Everyone was instructed to leave at the exact designated time, no lingering after hours, no exceptions. The rule applied to both students and faculty alike, creating an unspoken air of suspicion that everyone could feel but no one dared to voice.

It became clear that the police were doing everything they could to catch the killer. Surveillance footage from every corner of the school was reviewed, alibis were checked, and every faculty member, no matter how insignificant their role seemed, was interrogated thoroughly. But despite all their efforts, the police were no closer to capturing the killer. Every lead seemed to dissolve into thin air, like smoke vanishing into the wind.

What was even worse than the growing number of missing students was the fact that the disappearances were now no longer sporadic; they were becoming a regular occurrence. Each day, the list of missing girls seemed to grow longer. The school, which had once been a place of prestige and order, had now become a twisted, haunted reminder of its former self.

Then came the terrifying revelation: another body was found. It wasn’t just one. It was a massacre. Fourteen dead students, all from the same school, their bodies gruesomely arranged in various parts of the grounds, some in places so well hidden that it took days to discover them. The police were horrified, unable to comprehend the cruelty of what they were witnessing.

The once pristine halls were now the scene of a horrific investigation. Officers scoured every corner, every hidden room, even areas previously thought to be irrelevant. Every moment felt like it could be their last chance to catch the killer. But despite their best efforts, they were always one step behind. The unsettling truth became more and more apparent: someone inside the school was orchestrating this, and they were good at covering their tracks.

The growing fear spread like wildfire, even among the teachers. Rumors started circulating that the killer was hiding in plain sight, and no one could be trusted. Some of the staff began leaving the school early, a sense of panic and dread creeping into their every step.

Bibi, who had been under increasing suspicion herself, continued to be a strange, comforting presence in the midst of the chaos. She never seemed rattled, never showed signs of fear. In fact, if anything, she seemed to take a certain satisfaction in the growing turmoil. She continued her “support” for you, always appearing at the exact moment you seemed to need her most. Her gestures, once harmless, had taken on a more possessive and unsettling tone.

She would bring you coffee, sit close to you in meetings, and offer a soothing word when you least expected it. But every time she looked at you, there was something in her eyes—something dark and knowing—that made your blood run cold. You could no longer escape the feeling that she knew more than she was letting on.

The police were starting to question her too. They’d asked her about her relationship with the missing girls and had found her interactions with you particularly troubling. Bibi’s charm, however, worked wonders on them. She played the role of the concerned teacher so well, with just the right amount of vulnerability to disarm even the most skeptical officer.

But you weren’t so easily fooled anymore. Her behavior, her obsession, and the way she seemed to draw closer to you with each passing day—it all pointed to something far darker than you could have ever imagined. And as the police continued to dig into the school’s past, they began to uncover unsettling details, things that didn’t add up about certain faculty members and their ties to past tragedies, but the most chilling part of all was that they were still no closer to solving the case.

As the number of missing students grew, the atmosphere grew even more suffocating. Hana High, once an elite institution, was now a prison—a place where students and teachers alike were held captive by fear, suspicion, and the chilling knowledge that the killer could be anyone.

And the one question that lingered in the air was the one that no one dared speak aloud: Who could be behind this, and what did they want?

The day the cops turned their eyes on you was one you’d never forget. It all started with a knock at the door. At first, it was like any other day—quiet, unsettling, as the weight of the ongoing investigation continued to press on your shoulders. But when you opened it, you found two officers standing on the other side. Their faces were grim.

“You need to come with us,” one of them said, his voice devoid of any warmth.

Before you could react, they grabbed your arms, fastening the cold metal cuffs around your wrists. Shock flooded your system, and your heart pounded in your chest as the world around you began to spin. You tried to protest, but the words caught in your throat. “What’s going on? What’s happening?”

“You’re coming with us,” they repeated, dragging you out the door and into their car.

Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of the situation. What had you done wrong? You had been trying to help, trying to make sense of the disappearance of your students, but now you were being treated like a criminal. The sting of betrayal was sharp, but deeper still was the sense of helplessness that washed over you. Had everything you tried to do just made things worse?

At the police station, they didn’t waste any time. They questioned you relentlessly, accusing you of being involved in the disappearances, of knowing more than you were letting on. They had been hearing reports about your close relationship with the missing students, and in their eyes, that was enough to make you a prime suspect.

“I’m telling you, I had nothing to do with this!” you protested, voice shaking. “I care about those students—I’ve been trying to help! You have to believe me!”

But every word seemed to fall on deaf ears. The more you tried to explain, the more the officers seemed to tighten their grip, their suspicion growing by the minute. They were convinced you were hiding something, and no amount of pleading was going to change their minds.

Then, in a moment of desperation, you spoke the name that had been haunting you for days.

“Bibi… she’s the one you should be looking at. She’s the one acting strange, saying all sorts of crazy things to me,” you said, your voice trembling as you finally named the one person who had seemed to know too much about the situation. “She’s been obsessed with me, always showing up at the right moment… trying to control everything I do. I swear, she’s hiding something.”

The mention of Bibi’s name seemed to catch the officers’ attention, but not in the way you hoped. They exchanged a look, their eyes narrowing with suspicion. But instead of the relief you thought you’d feel by finally telling them, it only made the air feel heavier.

“She’s a teacher, she’s not involved in this,” one of the officers snapped, his voice cold and dismissive. “You’re just trying to shift the blame.”

You could see it in their eyes now. They didn’t believe you. They had made up their minds, and no amount of protest would change it. The more you spoke, the more their distrust of you grew, like a web tightening around you. The name of the one person you thought might help you only seemed to make things worse.

By the time the interrogation was over, it was clear that they weren’t going to let you go. You were no longer just a witness, no longer just a concerned teacher. You were a suspect. And for now, you were going to jail.

As they escorted you to the holding cell, your heart sank. The door slammed shut behind you, and the cold, sterile walls of the small, dimly lit room seemed to close in around you. There was no escape, no way to prove your innocence. Your mind raced, the confusion turning into anger, into frustration. Why wouldn’t they listen?

In that moment, the only thing you knew for certain was that Bibi was out there, watching all of this unfold, and she had somehow twisted everything to make you the villain in this nightmare.

The worst part was, you couldn’t help but wonder: Had she been manipulating you all along? Was she really the one behind everything, orchestrating this twisted game from the shadows? Or was something even darker at play?

As the hours passed and the realization settled in that you were stuck in this nightmare, one thing became clear—you were going to need more than just luck to get out of this. You needed answers. And the only person who seemed to hold the key to those answers was the very person the cops refused to suspect.

The letter arrived on a cold, dreary morning, its presence in the small holding cell a stark reminder that you were still very much part of a twisted game you couldn’t escape. The envelope, sealed with a smudge of dark red lipstick, was unmistakable. It was from her—Bibi.

Your hands trembled as you tore it open, the words inside searing into your mind like a branding iron.

“You see, this is all your fault. All of it. You could have protected those innocent girls, but you couldn’t protect yourself from me. I gave you a chance, you know. I offered you everything. You could have been mine that night, but you were too weak to accept. And now, look where we are. This could have been so simple. But now, there’s no going back. There’s only me and you. Forever.”

Your chest tightened as you read on, the weight of her words pressing down on you.

“It’s too late now. You can’t stop what’s coming. I’ve taken control of everything. And the only way you can escape… is by accepting me as yours. But since you’re so stubborn, I’ve already gone too far. There’s no turning back now. Not for you. Not for them. Not for anyone.”

The letter ended abruptly, as though Bibi had been too eager to finish her message, her ink-stained handwriting reflecting the twisted delight she took in your torment.

The words echoed in your head. You could have protected them. You could have been hers.

Before you could even begin to process the full weight of her message, you heard it—the unmistakable sound of a car revving, tires screeching against the pavement, growing louder and louder by the second. Your heart skipped a beat, and the sound seemed to reverberate throughout the entire station, the noise growing louder still, until it felt like the walls themselves were shaking.

Then, with a deafening "Banggg!"—a sports car, sleek and black, crashed through the perimeter of the police station parking lot. It tore through the barricades like they were made of paper, coming to a stop just inches from the front of the station. The sound of the impact sent a shockwave through the building, making the windows rattle.

Within seconds, a dozen officers were on their feet, rushing toward the vehicle, their guns drawn, shouting orders to one another. But none of them were ready for what came next.

The door to the car flung open with a jarring screech, and there, standing amidst the chaos, was Bibi. Her once-pristine dress was now drenched in blood—dark, viscous pools dripping onto the ground, her hands gripping something heavy. Something… far too familiar.

You gasped as she stepped out of the car, holding the decapitated head of one of the missing girls in her hands. The lifeless eyes stared vacantly into the distance, the bloodied remains a grotesque testament to her madness.

Bibi's lips curled into a twisted smile as she giggled softly, her footsteps eerily calm against the chaos around her. The cops, now utterly frozen in shock, barely moved as she walked toward you with a slow, deliberate pace. Her eyes locked with yours, gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and something darker—something far worse than you could ever imagine.

You tried to speak, tried to call out, but the words stuck in your throat. You could barely comprehend what you were seeing, and the horror was suffocating.

"I've won," Bibi cooed, her voice sickeningly sweet as she finally reached you. She cupped your face gently, her fingers cold and wet from the blood that coated them. "You're finally mine, now."

Her grip tightened, as if she were claiming victory, sealing your fate with a simple touch. Your body froze in terror, every instinct screaming at you to escape, but you couldn’t move. Her eyes were locked onto yours, and in that moment, you realized there was no escape. She had already won. There was no going back, no saving anyone. You were part of her twisted plan now.

As she leaned in closer, her breath hot against your ear, she whispered, “You should’ve just accepted me. But now, we’re bound forever.”

The officers around you seemed paralyzed, unable to process what they were witnessing. They could do nothing but stand in shock as Bibi, the person they never thought to suspect, the person who had been playing them all along, took control of everything.

And as she cupped your head in her bloodstained hands, you knew, deep down, that this was just the beginning of something far darker than you could have ever imagined. You had become a pawn in her game. A game that, in the end, only had one winner.

And that winner… was her.

[noa-cooper]

@mad-maddox has my heart & soul. 🔒💍

get to know me below the belt.💋 (no seriously ⬇️ )

N O A C O O P 🧷 C O R E

💜I'm so good at beginnings, but in the end I always seem to destroy everything, including myself.

🔪 I paint my wrists a pretty red to silence the demons in my head Creating art out of my pain It's the only thing that keeps me sane but why do others cry when they see my art? Is it because I ripped the canvas apart? I never understood why they looked so upset I guess they just don't like the color red.

💔 I wondered how you would react when i revealed to you my hidden parts, my ugly parts that don't do well in the sunlight.

🎭 You have mastered the art of protecting your conscience while completely masking your sooul.

🫂 Some of our fiercest battles are fought and won in silence.

🫀 I'm sorry to be all over the place, my mind doesn't know how to stop, but I'd rather rise up to the insanity, than to further depress on the drop.

❄️ How can I put this? There's a king of gap between what I think is real and what's really real. I get this feeling like some kind of little something-or-other is there, somewhere inside me... like a burglar is in the house, hiding in a wardrobe... and it comes out every once in a while and messes up whatever order or logic I've established for myself. The way a magnet can make a machine go crazy.

DISCORD : cookiemonster1105

[lkfarrout]

Routine (family fic)

No ships/romance, just angst.

Summary: something I thought was likely to happen in the week it took Stan to get his memory back

Warnings: light angst, minimal swearing

For Stan Pines, it was the same routine every morning for the last twenty-or-so years: shower, suit, fez, lights, open sign, merchandise, cash register, don't forget to smile, no refunds, etc, etc. But before all of that, somewhere in the haze between the first sip of coffee and the hot water on his face, he always found himself in the basement. There wasn't a real reason for it. It wasn't like he could make much progress that early in the day, but he always went down anyway. Maybe it was just to make sure it was still there. That his twin was still gone. That he hadn't woken from what was simply a horrible nightmare.

On this particular morning, Stan wasn't even sure what day it was, but it didn't matter. The warm summer air told him the shack would be busy and he didn't have any time to waste.

His head hurt like a bitch. Like a bad hangover. He trudged down the hallway in his slippers, stepping over boards and other debris. Must have been a party last night. Gotta tell Soos to clean this up.

The smell of cheap instant coffee filled the kitchen, and Stan squinted at the fridge door. There was a drawing of him magnet-ed to it, and not a great one. Like a kid drew it. Covered in glitter and stickers. "Our Hero," it said. Huh, probably someone's idea of a joke.

The sun was barely peaking over the horizon, bathing the giftshop in soft orange light. Beep, beep, beep. He had learned years ago to put the wrong combination in sometimes, to keep the buttons from wearing unevenly and giving away the real combination. Beep, beep, beep.

"Stanley?"

His mug fell from his grip and shattered on the floor. Coffee seeped into the floorboards and under the vending machine. That name. Stan didn't dare move.

A large hand grabbed his shoulder. "Where are you going?"

With the corner of his eyes, Stan counted the fingers.

One, two, three, four, five, six.

One two three four five six.

Onetwothreefourfivesix.

With a deep inhale and one swift motion, Stan flipped around and grasped the face of the man behind him desperately with both hands.

He whispered, "Standford?"

His brother returned the gesture, playfully grabbing Stan's face and chuckling, "Yes, it's me, Stan."

Stanley choked on his words, he couldn't even think straight.

"How- how did you get here? I never, I- I couldn't fix it." His eyes began to fill with tears and he held on tighter to Stanford's face.

Ford pulled him into a tight hug, which was eagerly reciprocated.

"You did fix it, Stan," he reassured his brother, "You brought me back, you just forgot."

Stan pulled back and looked at Ford, confused.

Ford continued, "You were doing so well last night, I don't know what happened."

"But... I couldn't even find the other journals," Stan insisted.

Ford nodded, "I know, Dipper found them, remember?"

"...Dipper? Ain't that the name of Shermie's grandbaby? I think I was at the birth. How long ago was that?"

"Yes, the twins, Dipper and Mabel." Standford's tone was soft and reassuring, "They live here, they're up in the attic right now."

Stan groaned and rubbed his eyes, "Darn kids, they keep breakin' that window up there."

"Yes!" Ford exclaimed and grabbed Stan by the shoulders excitedly, "They keep breaking the window!"

Stan looked at his twin like he was crazy. "What, are you rootin' for em or something? You're the one that gave her the crossbow." He rolled his eyes, annoyed.

Stanford laughed, "I sure did." He embraced Stan in a hug once again.

"How's your headache today?" he asked.

"Still bad," Stan replied. He looked down at the wet floor and laughed, "I could use another coffee."

[kaijuposting]

Jaegers of Pacific Rim: What do we know about them?

There's actually a fair amount of lore about Pacific Rim's jaegers, though most of it isn't actually in the movie itself. A lot of it has been scattered in places like Pacific Rim: Man, Machines, & Monsters, Tales From Year Zero, Travis Beacham's blog, and the Pacific Rim novelization.

Note that I will not be including information from either Pacific Rim: Uprising or Pacific Rim: The Black. Uprising didn't really add anything, and The Black's take on jaegers can easily be summed up as "simplified the concept to make a cartoon for children."

So what is there to know about jaegers, besides the fact that they're piloted by two people with their brains connected via computer?

Here's a fun fact: underneath the hull (which may or may not be pure iron), jaegers have "muscle strands" and liquid data transfer technology. Tendo Choi refers to them in the film when describing Lady Danger's repairs and upgrades:

Solid iron hull, no alloys. Forty engine blocks per muscle strand. Hyper-torque driver for every limb and a new fluid synapse system.

The novelization by Alex Irvine makes frequent references to this liquid data transfer tech. For example:

The Jaeger’s joints squealed and began to freeze up from loss of lubricant through the holes Knifehead had torn in it. Its liquid-circuit neural architecture was misfiring like crazy. (Page 29.)

He had enough fiber-optic and fluid-core cabling to get the bandwidth he needed. (Page 94.)

Newt soldered together a series of leads using the copper contact pins and short fluid-core cables. (Page 96.)

Unfortunately I haven't found anything more about the "muscle strands" and what they might be made of, but I do find it interesting that jaegers apparently have some sort of artificial muscle system going on, especially considering Newt's personnel dossier in the novel mentioned him pioneering research in artificial tissue replication at MIT.

The novelization also mentions that the pilots' drivesuits have a kind of recording device for their experiences while drifting:

This armored outer layer included a Drift recorder that automatically preserved sensory impressions. (Page 16.)

It was connected through a silver half-torus that looked like a travel pillow but was in fact a four-dimensional quantum recorder that would provide a full record of the Drift. (Page 96.)

This is certainly... quite the concept. Perhaps the PPDC has legitimate reasons for looking through the memories and feelings of their pilots, but let's not pretend this doesn't enable horrific levels of privacy invasion.

I must note, though, I haven't seen mention of a recording system anywhere outside of the novel. Travis Beacham doesn't mention it on his blog, and it never comes up in either Tales From Year Zero or Tales From The Drift, both written by him. Whether there just wasn't any occasion to mention it or whether this piece of worldbuilding fell by the wayside in Beacham's mind is currently impossible to determine.

Speaking of the drivesuits, let's talk about those more. The novelization includes a few paragraphs outlining how the pilots' drivesuits work. It's a two-layer deal:

The first layer, the circuity suit, was like a wetsuit threaded with a mesh of synaptic processors. The pattern of processor relays looked like circuitry on the outside of the suit, gleaming gold against its smooth black polymer material. These artificial synapses transmitted commands to the Jaeger’s motor systems as fast as the pilot’s brain could generate them, with lag times close to zero. The synaptic processor array also transmitted pain signals to the pilots when their Jaeger was damaged.

...

The second layer was a sealed polycarbonate shell with full life support and magnetic interfaces at spine, feet, and all major limb joints. It relayed neural signals both incoming and outgoing. This armored outer layer included a Drift recorder that automatically preserved sensory impressions.

...

The outer armored layer of the drivesuit also kept pilots locked into the Conn-Pod’s Pilot Motion Rig, a command platform with geared locks for the Rangers’ boots, cabled extensors that attached to each suit gauntlet, and a full-spectrum neural transference plate, called the feedback cradle, that locked from the Motion Rig to the spine of each Ranger’s suit. At the front of the motion rig stood a command console, but most of a Ranger’s commands were issued either by voice or through interaction with the holographic heads-up display projected into the space in front of the pilots’ faces. (Page 16.)

Now let's talk about the pons system. According to the novelization:

The basics of the Pons were simple. You needed an interface on each end, so neuro signals from the two brains could reach the central bridge. You needed a processor capable of organizing and merging the two sets of signals. You needed an output so the data generated by the Drift could be recorded, monitored, and analyzed. That was it. (Page 96.)

This is pretty consistent with other depictions of the drift, recording device aside. (Again, the 4D quantum recorder never comes up anywhere outside of the novel.)

The development of the pons system as we know it is depicted in Tales From Year Zero, which goes into further detail on what happened after Trespasser's attack on San Francisco. In this comic, a jaeger can be difficult to move if improbably calibrated. Stacker Pentecost testing out a single arm describes the experience as feeling like his hand is stuck in wet concrete; Doctor Caitlin Lightcap explains that it's resistance from the datastream because the interface isn't calibrated to Pentecost's neural profile. (I'm guessing that this is the kind of calibration the film refers to when Tendo Choi calls out Lady Danger's left and right hemispheres being calibrated.)

According to Travis Beacham's blog, solo piloting a jaeger for a short time is possible, though highly risky. While it won't cause lasting damage if the pilot survives the encounter, the neural overload that accumulates the longer a pilot goes on can be deadly. In this post he says:

It won't kill you right away. May take five minutes. May take twenty. No telling. But it gets more difficult the longer you try. And at some point it catches up with you. You won't last a whole fight start-to-finish. Stacker and Raleigh managed to get it done and unplug before hitting that wall.

In this post he says:

It starts off fine, but it's a steep curve from fine to dead. Most people can last five minutes. Far fewer can last thirty. Nobody can last a whole fight.

Next, let's talk about the size and weight of jaegers. Pacific Rim: Man, Machines, & Monsters lists off the sizes and weights of various jaegers. The heights of the jaegers it lists (which, to be clear, are not all of them) range from 224 feet to 280 feet. Their weights range from 1850 tons to 7890 tons. Worth noting, the heaviest jaegers (Romeo Blue and Horizon Brave) were among the Mark-1s, and it seems that these heavy builds didn't last long given that another Mark-1, Coyote Tango, weighed 2312 tons.

And on the topic of jaeger specs, each jaeger in Pacific Rim: Man, Machines, & Monsters is listed with a (fictional) power core and operating system. For example, Crimson Typhoon is powered by the Midnight Orb 9 power core, and runs on the Tri-Sun Plasma Gate OS.

Where the novelization's combat asset dossiers covers the same jaegers, this information lines up - with the exception of Lady Danger. PR:MMM says that Lady Danger's OS is Blue Spark 4.1; the novelization's dossier says it's BLPK 4.1.

PR:MMM also seems to have an incomplete list of the jaegers' armaments; for example, it lists the I-22 Plasmacaster under Weaponry, and "jet kick" under Power Moves. Meanwhile, the novelization presents its armaments thus:

I-22 Plasmacaster Twin Fist gripping claws, left arm only Enhanced balance systems and leg-integral Thrust Kickers Enhanced combat-strike armature on all limbs

The novel's dossiers list between 2-4 features in the jaegers' armaments sections.

Now let's move on to jaeger power cores. As many of you probably already know, Mark-1-3 jaegers were outfitted with nuclear power cores. However, this posed a risk of cancer for pilots, especially during the early days. To combat this, pilots were given the (fictional) anti-radiation drug, Metharocin. (We see Stacker Pentecost take Metharocin in the film.)

The Mark-4s and beyond were fitted with alternative fuel sources, although their exact nature isn't always clear. Striker Eureka's XIG supercell chamber implies some sort of giant cell batteries, but it's a little harder to guess what Crimson Typhoon's Midnight Orb 9 might be, aside from round.

Back on the topic of nuclear cores, though, the novelization contains a little paragraph about the inventor of Lady Danger's power core, which I found entertaining:

The old nuclear vortex turbine lifted away from the reactor housing. The reactor itself was a proprietary design, brainchild of an engineer who left Westinghouse when they wouldn’t let him use his lab to explore portable nuclear miniaturization tech. He’d landed with one of the contractors the PPDC brought in at its founding, and his small reactors powered many of the first three generations of Jaegers. (Page 182.)

Like... I have literally just met this character, and I love him. I want him to meet Newt Geiszler, you know? >:3

Apparently, escape pods were a new feature to Mark-3 jaegers. Text in the novelization says, "New to the Mark III is an automated escape-pod system capable of ejecting each Ranger individually." (Page 240.)

Finally, jaegers were always meant to be more than just machines. Their designs and movements were meant to convey personality and character. Pacific Rim: Man, Machines, & Monsters says:

Del Toro insisted the Jaegers be characters in and of themselves, not simply giant versions of their pilots. Del Toro told his designers, "It should be as painful for you to see a Jaeger get injured as it is for you to see the pilot [get hurt.]" (Page 56.)

Their weathered skins are inspired by combat-worn vehicles from the Iraq War and World War II battleships and bombers. They look believable and their design echoes human anatomy, but only to a point. "At the end of the day, what you want is for them to look cool," says Francisco Ruiz Velasco. "It's a summer movie, so you want to see some eye candy." Del Toro replies, "I, however, believe in 'eye protein,' which is high-end design with a high narrative content." (Page 57.)

THE JAEGER FROM DOWN UNDER is the only Mark 5, the most modern and best all-around athlete of the Jaegers. He's also the most brutal of the Jaeger force. Del Toro calls him "sort of brawler, like a bar fighter." (Page 64.)

And that is about all the info I could scrounge up and summarize in a post. I think there's a lot of interesting stuff here - like, I feel that the liquid circuit and muscle tissue stuff gives jaegers an eerily organic quality that could be played for some pretty interesting angles. And I also find it interesting that jaegers were meant to embody their own sort of character and personality, rather than just being simple combat machines or extensions of their pilots - it's a great example of a piece of media choosing thematic correctness over technical correctness, which when you get right down to it, is sort of what Pacific Rim is really all about.

[husk-says-no]

Overlord Husk Headcanons

1. Master of Luck and Chance - Husk’s Overlord abilities revolve around manipulating probability. Dice rolls always land in his favor, cards bend to his will, and slot machines pay out jackpots—or drain souls dry—depending on his mood.

2. Walking Vice Magnet - His presence amplifies temptation, pulling out people’s darkest cravings and weaknesses.

3. Deal with the Devil - Husk’s golden bowtie serves as a focus for his magic. It glows whenever he seals a deal, binding the contract in Hell’s magic.

4. Ruler of Ruin - Husk’s casino fortress constantly shifts like a labyrinth, designed to keep visitors disoriented and trapped. It’s part nightclub, part death trap, with games that can literally gamble away years of someone’s existence.

5. No Free Drinks - unless he *really* likes someone, despite his suave exterior, Husk is bitter and deeply cynical. He views everyone as a potential customer—or liability.

6. Trophy Collector - Husk keeps trophies from his victims—a pair of loaded dice, a crumpled ace of spades, or even pieces of jewelry—displayed as grim reminders of his conquests.

7. Poker-Faced Predator - Husk’s poker face is so unreadable that even other Overlords struggle to predict his next move. His ability to bluff is nearly supernatural, making negotiations with him a dangerous game.

8. The Devil’s Gambler - Husk pushed his luck one too many times, staking his empire on a high-risk bet and losing everything. He’s bitter about his downfall but still plays the game, hoping for a shot at redemption—or revenge.

9. Silent Storm - While Husk is usually calm and collected, when he does lose his temper, it’s catastrophic—storms of flaming playing cards, shards of glass, and bursts of chaotic energy tear through his surroundings.

10. Old Money, Older Problems - Husk’s Overlord reign wasn’t built on brute force but through manipulation, debt, and corruption. He’s been around so long that he’s entangled in multiple feuds and alliances, making him a political nightmare to deal with.

11. Immortal Gambler - Husk’s downfall came not from losing power but from his addiction to risk. He pushed his luck one too many times and fell, but he still carries the pride (and bitterness) of a fallen king.

12. Grudges Like Chains - Husk remembers every deal, every slight, and every betrayal. He’s not above rigging fate itself to get revenge—even if it takes centuries.

13. Broken Ace - Beneath the swagger and smirks, Husk hides the fear of being powerless again. He keeps up the gambler’s mask to avoid showing just how much he still craves the control he lost.

--

NSFW

1. Power Play Enthusiast - Husk enjoys being in control and thrives on dominance, but he also gets a thrill from teasing and toying with someone who tries to challenge him. He loves watching people squirm under his gaze, unsure whether they’re terrified or turned on—or both.

2. Seduction as Strategy - Husk views intimacy as another form of gambling, a high-stakes game where he always plays to win. He’s not above using seduction to get what he wants, leaving his partners craving more while he keeps the upper hand.

3. Whiskey on the Lips - Husk tastes like smoke and whiskey, and he knows it. He leans into the rough, addictive flavor, leaving his partners chasing after the burn he leaves behind.

4. Rough but Precise - Despite his sharp claws and rough demeanor, Husk is surprisingly careful when things heat up. He’s skilled at keeping just the right balance between pleasure and pain, knowing exactly how far to push without going too far—unless, of course, his partner begs for it.

5. Gambler’s Edge - Husk loves making bets in the bedroom, often turning intimate moments into challenges or dares. Lose a round? Better be ready to pay up—and Husk always collects his winnings.

6. Voice Like Velvet - Husk’s deep, gravelly voice drops lower when things get intimate, making every word feel like a sinful promise. He knows how to use his voice to drive someone crazy, whether he’s whispering dirty talk or purring taunts in their ear.

7. Claw Marks and Bite Marks - Husk isn’t shy about leaving his mark. His claws and fangs often make an appearance, especially if someone challenges his dominance. He treats scratches and bites as signatures, branding his partners like trophies.

8. Slow Burn Specialist - Husk has a sadistic streak when it comes to pacing. He takes his time, teasing and building up tension until his partner is begging—only to pull back at the last second and make them work for it.

9. Heat of the Moment - While he’s usually calculated and controlled, Husk’s temper can lead to heated, impulsive encounters where passion and frustration blur together. These moments are raw, messy, and unforgettable.

10. High-Roller Habits - Husk has expensive tastes, and it shows even in the bedroom. Silk sheets, velvet furniture, and gold-accented décor make up his space, adding an air of luxury to every encounter.

11. Weak for Praise - Despite his dominant streak, Husk secretly melts under genuine praise and affection—though he’d never admit it. Compliments about his skills or appearance hit harder than they should, leaving him momentarily vulnerable.

12. Intimacy and Addictions - Husk struggles to separate genuine connection from his vices. For him, physical intimacy can be just another escape, but there’s always the fear that someone might get too close and see the cracks in his armor.

.

Let me know if any of you want more of my Husk Headcanons!! (Sfw or nsfw)

[cephalonserotonin]

Devstream 180 Notes

This is a long one, folks.

brought to you by creative lead Rebb Executive Producer Dick Wolf

New dojo contest to kick off a transition to cross-save dojo world… see forum post

Pride Campaign 2024

is active now until the end of June! a new glyph, display, and wings in lovely rainbows!

Jade Shadows update coming June 18!

features a new cinematic quest: Jade Shadows. It picks up after The New War (so it's got TNW as a prerequisite) where the storyline of the Stalker left off. Rebb and the crew request that folks not spoil the quest for others after playing it. Use spoiler tags if possible! Quest runtime ~ 25 min There's a teaser for the story quest, featuring the Stalker hanging upside down like a bat:

New Warframe: Jade!

Pablo describes her as a support frame. Her passive is two aura mod slots which is kind of crazy ngl

Her kit briefly summarized:

1: throws a little mote with an AOE effect of healing for allies and increasing damage taken to enemies

2: cycle through various squad buffs. The UI art for these is really gorgeous

3: a debuff: enemies in her sight are slowed and lose armor. You also revive any dead allies in your vision.

4: floating and a zappy exalted weapon. It's kind of like Hildryn's four but basically better in every way because you can actually set off large amounts of damage and fly higher and faster. The exalted weapon has synergy with her 1 and 2.

As Pablo mentioned, Jade's abilities provide a lot of combo potential, good for any "min maxers" in the audience.

Jade's three signature weapons: the Cantare throwing knives, the Harmony scythe, and the Evensong bow (a variant on the Dread).

The Ascension game mode: "what if Warframe but up?"

Non-endless There's a giant elevator you have to feed with energy. The team's video crashed so Rebb gave what I'd call an excited 12 year old's description of the game mode instead which I loved:

There's this giant elevator that needs energy to go up. So you have to keep feeding it ionic charges so you rise out of the depths. And as you're feeding, the Corpus are there! *excitable machine gun noises* And then you're like, oh god! And then you have to, like, jump around-- but if you fall out of the elevator, you better hope you're good at parkour, and that you can read the level to get back up! and back up! and back up! And then: you have to make it to the top. But that's not all. Once you get to the top of the elevator, you gotta escape. You gotta make a run for it before the Corpus hold you back! Aahhh! Aah! Ah! …and that's Ascension. :)

Once we finally watch the video preview of the game mode later I think it looks fun. The level looks really neat; I love the graphics of the inside of the elevator. There's a new Jade Light eximus enemy here but I can't really tell any details about it quite yet.

ORDIS IN LARUNDA RELAY!

He's hosting the clan operation Belly of the Beast (featuring above Ascension game mode). In his shop is the Asteria ephemera, which evolves with community participation. Also some arcanes… and a beautiful skin for the Hate.

"If you're a hater, this is for you." Hilariously the arcanes are capped at 42 each because apparently in Gargoyle's Cry certain players went crazy burning themselves out to stock up on arcanes, and the team is trying to prevent that (and players blaming them for their own bad choices, as always). Two full sets each is more than enough, frankly.

Status Rework!

Blast now does a secondary detonation, or if hitting 10 blast procs, creates an AOE explosion. This is exactly what I have been wanting for ages so I, personally, am thrilled.

Magnetic now scales with overguard and shields the same way, and also does a secondary punch of damage (and an electric proc!) once the shield is broken.

Cold should freeze enemies more often now… and came with a free Frost rework! Now Frost's abilities give proper cold procs, thus freezing enemies, which is now standardized across his abilities. His 1 has been buffed and his 3 snowglobe has been modified (to allow shooting from in to out but not out to in). He has a new passive: his armor scales with the number of cold procs enemies have (like the defensive version of Ember).

There's a lot of testing going on right now on the interaction between ragdolling and freezing enemies.

There's a change to damage vulnerability mechanics which I didn't quite follow; seems to be mostly a simplification of the system.

Armor damage attenuation scaling, as mentioned in the last devstream, now has a cap, meaning corrosive procs should be more effective.

Yareli Deluxe

...looks like eldritch coral?

Next round of TennoGen

…finally comes with a Lavos skin, which is plague doctor themed.

Some augments (Protea's is probably OP), decrees (list shown below is incomplete), and arcanes

UI improvements!

In the upgrade screen: duplicate mod config button, indicator for substats, increased mod polarity

Augment list viewer in the abilities screen

Community customization table where you can copy others' fashions. Great news for gamers too unoriginal to make their own fashions, I guess. Coming at first for just Excalibur, Mag, Volt, and Jade.

Quick Access (fast travel wheel) for more areas like the dormizone.

UI autoscaling with resolution (to prevent tiny UI bars for people with huge resolutions), also coming with ability to scale the UI back down.

"Donut numbers" for damage view that do not cover the enemy you are shooting (old way can still be switched back to, called "cloud.")

Awakening quest has a lil fashion preview now!

Loadout hot swaps conveniently directly from the starchart!

QOL!

Cap on adversaries (liches and sisters) at 150. For the sake of database health. The programmer in me is mildly concerned that there was no limit before this.

Semi auto becoming full auto (see last devstream for more detailed description).

Automatic selection of last relic during endless relic cracks.

Streamlining necramech acquisition.

Unifying melee finishers and mercy kills (both with mechanics and appearance).

The return of Heirloom skins: starting with community art this time

First major change (from last year's disastrous heirloom launch) is the heirloom collections will now be released one warframe at a time.

Ember Heirloom is also a purchased fanartist concept!

Two paths to acquire it: a temporary paid path (for money, comes with some plat) and a plat path that will be available until next heirloom launch (and you can purchase the cosmetics individually!)

This is much better than last year's Heirloom launch, which, as aforementioned, caused a lot of community strife.

molten booty

And finally, the TennoCon 2024 schedule:

[spinbitchzu]

Brewing an au where ronin and Cyrus went to the same robotics school when they were younger for uni. Cyrus is this big shot from a super elite stem magnet school and everyone knows hes a genius and he’ll do amazing things. Meanwhile Ronin is trailer trash from shithole, nowhere but also known for being this crazy raw talent who can build anything from scraps. And they’re not enemies or anything, but everyone always compares them, so they’re just generally aware of each other. Ronin has kind of already made up his mind not to like Cyrus because he’s a prep school rich boy, and Cyrus (who's kind of a bossy shit bc hes 18 and a dweeb with an ego) just gets frustrated when Ronin doesn’t follow rules as he understands them.

But sometimes they get paired on projects and that’s complicated because what happens when a guy you’ve already decided is your nemesis makes you laugh and brings you a jasmine tea from the vending machine when you guys work on said project bc you mentioned liking them. So now you’re frenemies? Rivals? something else?

Other stuff ;

Cyrus is highly respected by his classmates, but ronin's better liked

at some point ronin ends up dropping out at some point due to losing his scholarships for being a fuck-up and doing some stupid illegal shit

after that they both miss having someone actually on their level to discuss and bounce ideas off of, but the last time they spoke they fought and both are too proud to reach out for like years

ties with a future timeline in their late thirties where they’re fwbs [terrible idea guys btw]

idk man I just love untouched history festering in the cracks of a relationship they’re both desperately trying to keep no strings attached. As if that was ever going to work

Here’s some concept art to be refined later btw

[bitterfishiesstuff]

SergeantGoggles here. You know what I came for. 😏

🎲 + Huntech

Aye aye cap'in!

39. A tentative kiss (spoilers for season 3, not canon compliant)

Hunter had hoped it wasn't Tech under that helmet. Every fiber of his being prayed as he saw little things that were similar, but not quite right. He should have know he was seeing things. A grieving mind graphing at straws to make connection where there were none.

From one there was suddenly five. Echo, Wrecker, and the regs all fighting chances of Tech. Glimpses of a sick hope that maybe- maybe Tech was one of CX's. Shadows that all had a dull glimmer of something.

A glimmer of nothing.

Each a reg. At first Hunter was disappointed, but quickly he felt sickened by his own greed. Tech didn't deserve that. No one deserved what they went through, but especially Tech. His Ace, his second in command... His husband.

Their war was over now. Omega was safe, as were the boys and the other kids Omega had found on Tantis. She'd even gone with Echo to drop the last of the little commanders off. Something Hunter hasn't wanted, but Crosshair had pointed out she was going with Echo. Either absolutely nothing would happen because he was a stickler for regulations,unless it didn't suit him of course, or they'd obliterate whatever stopped them with their combine bantha shit crazy.

He was right of course. Omega was almost home and she had commed to tell them she had found a suprise. Of course she did. Hunter just hoped it wasn't another hound. Batcher had taken to Crosshair, and it ate like Wrecker.

He wasn't sure he could handle another mouth to feed, especially if it took to Crosshair. The man spoiled Batcher rotten when he could.

He felt the thrum of the engines before anyone. The electro magnetic pulse hitting the atmosphere sent a shiver down his spine. It was a familar feeling, one that meant safety. Family had returned home again.

He feared the day it wouldn't return and they'd said their last good bye to Echo, or the other regs that came around with him.

Today wasn't that day though. The sun shown brightly as Echos ship landed on the small pad. Not Omega driving, she'd have swooped in like Tech and sent leaves flying off the old tree in the public square. Hunter waited in front of the ramp. Not to close, but it didn't matter. Omega would run out to him and Echo would follow in a bit.

The ramp hissed and he smiled, waiting for whatever treasure or curse she'd dragged home this time.

But no one came out. He frowned and took a step forward. What had she found that it was taking longer to greet him? Suddenly he had flash backs to the baby rancor, but no. Echo would *not* have let one of those on board.

Omega's foot steps slowly carried out of the ship, along with the sound of gears and wheels. Truly curious he stepped closer to try and hear her voice.

"I think you should tell him first Omega. I do not wish to startle him-"

He knew that voice. He KNEW that voice like the beat of his own heart, the curve of his vibroblade, the pulse of the havoc.

Hunter ran. He didn't care who was watching or the fact he scared a couple walking near by. He flew up the ramp almost running into a sheepish Omega and-

Tech.

The specialist looked up at him. To most he'd look slightly off balance, but not to Hunter. Concern was foremost, as was worry. There was nervousness, which Hunter could understand. Tech had one eye replaced with a machine, as was an arm. Both legs seemed intact, but he was in a mobility chair.

It didn't matter. Tech was alive and staring at him like he was the ghost.

"Hunter..."

Two steps and Hunter falls to his knees infront of him.

"Tech. Tech I-"

His Ace raise an eyebrow and holds out a hand to him. "That will hurt in a rotation."

Hunter laughs, eyes watering as his other half takes his shaking hand and gives him the stable ground he'd been searching for ever since Tech executed plan 99.

"I'll live." Hunter winces as the words slip out. Tech almost didn't. Tech hadn't. There was no way, but here he was.

Time crawled as Tech bent over stiffly, stopping only a hair breath short of parted lips. They both froze, uncertain if the other would close the gap. Tech pulls back a fraction and Hunter moves forward, still not daring to complete the kiss. As if kissing him would wash him away.

They meet for an instant, both moving as if they'll be stung. Tech reunits them. Kissing Hunter timidly, before parting again.

"We both will."

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Jude doesn’t tell me about the email until we’re back in Dublin, and I don’t ask because there are other things to think about. Such as the gaping holes left in the shelves of the apartment now that Claire has taken all of her things away or the letter waiting from NCAD detailing my timetable for my first week back in September. How is September three weeks away already? I toss the envelope onto the kitchen table and sigh as I unfold the letter. 

“Ugh, the thought of going back is so weird,” I say, “You know, like the idea of not being in Mezzotint anymore, of being back to regular classes again, cycling back to Thomas Street every morning. It feels like the kind of thing I did in a different life.”

Jude opens the fridge and takes out one of Claire’s abandoned peach yoghurts, and I eye him sharply as he does it, in two minds whether I should warn him to stay away from her things, which is nonsensical as it’s yoghurt and it expires on the 30th and she won’t be coming back from Sydney to get it anytime soon. “Is Mezzotint an option long-term?” He wonders, and I ask him what he means, “Like, if you wanted to stay on and work for them longer, do you think they’d let that happen?”

“I can’t do that,” I grab a magnet and stick the timetable to the fridge door, “I have to finish college now, it’s the only way I’ll ever get a degree.”

“You can’t drop out?” He says casually.

“No, because of financial aid. They won’t ever fund my education again and I’ll never be able to afford a degree on my own.”

“Woah,” He says, “I didn’t know that. So this is your only shot.”

“Exactly. No pressure, like.”

“Lucky you picked something you like.”

“Yeah and I do like illustration, I think I’m good at it, but, ugh, NCAD, sometimes I just…”

“Judging by the way everyone goes crazy for your work, I’d say you’re more than good at it. I think your murals are the best ones I’ve seen.”

I feel self-conscious, “you’re saying that because you think you have to.”

“Never.”

I start unzipping my weekend bag so I can put some of my dirty clothes into the washing machine. I find my dew soaked shoes to and put them on the windowsill to dry. 

“I’m serious,” Jude is saying as he follows me around the room, “You could really do something with those skills, that’s why I was asking about Mezzotint, I just think that if you wanted to you could make a career out of designing in the way that you’re designing now. Windows, murals, that kind of thing.”

“Yeah, maybe someday.”

“Why does it have to be someday?”

“Because I… That’s just something I’ll do in the future, I don’t know.”

“Evie, you’re so good, I swear you could do it right now.”

I sigh and toss a detergent pod into the drum, “Did you hear that bit I said about having to finish college?”

“I know,” he chews on his lip thoughtfully, “I know, you said that. I understand.”

“Why? What would you do if you were me?”

“I couldn’t say, our situations are different, so,”

“Yeah but if you were in my exact situation. Would you drop out of college and pursue illustration without a degree?”

He shrugs, “I might.”

I scoff, “Okay well, that’s not going to happen, so.”

“I know, I was just saying that if I was literally you, I might make a decision like that. I’m not saying you should, I get what you’re talking about with the financial aid and all of that I…” he breaks off and I look over my shoulder to find a troubled expression on his face. I feel tension leave my shoulders and compassion take a hold of my heart. 

“Is it the long distance?” I ask him, “Are you worried about how we’re going to do it?”

He scratches the back of his head and looks at the floor, “I dunno, I suppose honestly it freaks me out a bit.”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” I abandon the laundry and cross the room to hold his face in my hands, “it freaks me out too, but look, it won’t be that long, and by the time you get a job in London and actually manage to move over there it could be a couple more weeks or months, and really, by then I’ll only have maybe, six months left in NCAD, and there’ll be weeks during the midterm breaks when I can come and visit you, and really, it won’t be bad.”

“Yeah,” He says, still staring at the rug.

“We did a month apart when you were in Berlin,” I remind him, “and it was hard, but it was also fun, because we got to talk every night on the phone, and send texts and photos, and I learned all about the art of tasteful nudes and got to experience your colourful language detailing all the things you wish you were doing with me, and I think that if we can manage that then we can totally manage this.”

“They were very tasteful nudes,” he concedes, and I laugh at the miserable way he decided to say this. I capture his chin between my thumb and forefinger so that I can tilt his face to mine. “Stop moping, there’s no need to get into a mood over something like this, you know, we’re strong people and we can-’

“One of the movie studios in LA emailed me last night,” He says. 

“Yeah, I remember,” I leave a long pause for him to fill, and when he doesn’t I ask him, “What did they say?”

“They liked my portfolio.”

“Was their advice any good?”

“They didn’t have any, they, uh,” a long pause, “have an internship programme, actually.”

My stomach plummets to the floor. “Do they, yeah?”

“Yeah they told me that they’d like for me to come out to LA and work with them.”

“Oh,” My voice sounds a bit strangled, “so they really liked your work.”

“Guess so.”

“That’s really nice, wow. Nice to hear,” I shrug “…but it’s an internship.”

“Right.”

“So… not paid.”

“I imagine not.”

“So that just doesn’t make sense then,” I turn around and start fiddling with the dials on the washing machine. “Like they can’t really expect you to do that, can they? Like, to work somewhere like that without giving you any money for it, a bit ridiculous, isn’t it?”

He says nothing.

“They can’t really compete with the kind of money you’d be getting in London at all, can they? I mean think about that. Fifty, sixty thousand pounds a year versus nothing. They can’t expect anyone to be interested in something like that, especially, you know, because to live somewhere like LA would be crazy expensive as I can imagine. Wow, what a ridiculous offer.”

“Evie, I don’t have a job in London yet, it doesn’t make a lot of sense to start talking like I do.”

“Yeah, yet,” for some reason I grab the hoover and start vacuuming up crumbs from the ground beneath the oven, “But you will, that place you were waiting on, they’ll get back to you soon.”

“Yeah, maybe they will, but…” he pauses again and I feel a flash of annoyance that takes me by surprise, “But what, like?”

“What if I felt like the internship was too good to pass up? What if I didn’t want to take the risk of waiting for The Brits to hire me and I just considered another opportunity?”

“The other opportunity is really just not realistic,” I argue, “It makes no sense. It’s so far away from here and it won’t even pay you.”

“Yeah but I think it’s more exciting.”

I shake my head. 

“I know that you’re being practical Evie, but there are ways to make this workable.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this.”

When I turn to him again Jude’s face looks a little wild, and I know immediately what that expression is. Passion. Excitement. Ridiculousness. Whatever is firing off in his brain is the same thing that drove him to cycle his bike like a maniac, crash a wedding party, kiss girls he should never have kissed. “Listen,” He says, “I really think this could be amazing, and I think it could work out, and we can still have everything we want and there’ll never be any compromises.”

“How? I’m going back to college and-”

“You weren’t excited to go,” he blurts out, “You saw that letter on the floor and you were upset to see it there. You don’t seem like you want to go back to NCAD, not really.”

“I-” I break off, “Well-”

“I know how you feel about that place, I know the bad memories it has for you, and you don’t need to go back, I swear, you can just be an illustrator, that’s the beauty of being an artist, you don’t need a degree to be one, and look, if you don’t go back to college then you could come to LA with me and see if we like it, and if not we’ll try somewhere else. You wouldn’t have to live in Dublin, you wouldn’t have to find a new housemate for this apartment.”

“The money, Jude.”

“Who cares about the money?”

“I feel like I’m going insane listening to you. I can’t just up and leave and move to America.” I turn away to scrub the kitchen sink and he moves to lean against a counter and wedge himself back into my eyeline. 

“Well, you objectively can, so.”

“Jude…”

He’s grinning now, “You think I’m crazy.”

“No, I think you’re passionate.”

“So are you.”

“Please…”

“C’mon, don’t be upset, it’s just an idea,” He gently pulls me away from the sink and turns me to face him, and only when he’s holding me by the wrists do I realise I’ve begun trembling. He kisses one palm and then the other, “What is it?”

“I just feel like… this is a lot of information all at once, and a lot of new ideas are being put forward here, I don’t know what to think about it, and I’m worried that if I don’t want to drop out of college then you’re going to go to America anyway.”

“No,” He says, “No, there’s no ultimatum, listen, I know I’m saying all of this stuff right now, but no matter what happens I’ll put us first. The last thing I’m going to do is leave you behind. If you don’t want to go to LA then I don’t want to go either.” I can’t bear to look at his face when he says that in case I can detect a lie in it. “Evie,” tilting my face, “I love you. I love you so much. I don’t want to be anywhere if you’re not going to be nearby, you know that. If you want to stay here and finish college then that’s what you should do, and I’ll be right here with you as you do it.”

“Alright,” and I kiss him, and keep kissing him, and he keeps kissing me back. “Can I have time to think about all of this?” I say when we come up for air, “You know, to really just get my head around it?”

“Yeah of course,” He says, “Whatever time you need.”

“Okay,” I wind my arms around his neck and kiss him even more as we forget about the whole conversation. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[rhapsodynew]

#Music and Musicians

Top 10 iconic singing drummers in the history of rock, striking with their skill.

Today I'm going to tell you about the guys who didn't just bang on the drums, but also sang in a way that rocked you. And you know, this is not a joke to you - try to beat a complex rhythm yourself and at the same time not lose the melody! It's like juggling burning torches and reciting poetry at the same time. But these virtuosos managed to do it with such ease, as if they were born with drumsticks in their hands and a microphone at their mouth. Well, are you ready to plunge into the world of rhythm and melody? Let's go!

Ringo Starr (The Beatles)

And now let's talk about our favorite Beatle, Ringo Starr. Oh, there were so many jokes about his game! And the guy, by the way, set the rhythm for an entire era. "With a Little Help from My Friends", "Octopus's Garden" - it's just some kind of holiday!

By the way, do you know the funny thing about Ringo? He's left-handed! But it plays on the usual right-hand installation. Can you imagine how he suffered at first? But now he has such a style that you can't confuse it with anyone.

Phil Collins (Genesis)

Let's start with Phil Collins. You know, this guy is a real jack of all trades! That's what I understand - talent!

Don Henley (Eagles)

And here's Don Henley, the voice of "Hotel California" how can you sing like that and still beat out such complex rhythms? Unsurprisingly, the Eagles have sold over 150 million albums.

Roger Taylor (Queen)

Now about Roger Taylor. This guy didn't just bang the drums at Queen, he also sang in a way that took your breath away. Have you heard his "I'm In Love With My Car"? He wrote it! And his parts in "Bohemian Rhapsody"? It's just fantastic!

Levon Helm (The Band)

Levon Helm... Oh, that voice! Listening to him, it feels like you're somewhere on the dusty road of the American South. His "The Weight" is just a time machine in the 60s! And all this without letting go of the drumsticks.

Here's my advice: find the album "The Band" from 1969. Turn it on, close your eyes, and you're already there-in Arkansas, among the cotton fields.

Peter Criss (Kiss)

Well, now let's talk about our "Cat Face" - Peter Criss! That's who really knew how to surprise. You know, usually this guy would hide behind his huge drum kit, but sometimes... bam! He would suddenly start singing, so much so that his jaw dropped. Take, for example, "Black Diamond". There, Peter not only beats out a rhythm that makes the floor shake, but also sings the chorus in his hoarse voice. And you know what? It turns out damn cool! And at concerts? Oh, he did wonders there. That's what I understand - talent in all fields.

Karen Carpenter (The Carpenters)

Karen Carpenter... That's a girl! The only one, by the way, on our list. You know, when I first heard her on the drums, I was very surprised. And when she sang, that's it, he was gone! Many professional musicians admired her talent as a drummer and vocalist.

Robert Wyatt (Soft Machine)

Listen, here's who I completely forgot about - Robert Wyatt from Soft Machine! Damn it, this dude is just something. One day I came across their album "Third", and there is such a song - "Moon in June". Oh my God, I almost fell off the stool! Imagine, Wyatt is not only playing the drums like crazy, but also sings the main vocals.

Dave Grohl (Nirvana, Foo Fighters)

Oh, guys, here comes our rock and roll multitouch - Dave Grohl! You know, I almost fell off my chair when I first saw this shaggy guy playing Nirvana drums, and then- bang! - and he's already the frontman of the Foo Fighters. But here's the funny thing: at concerts, sometimes it's like a magnet pulling him back to the drum kit. And then the real magic begins! You should have seen how he wields chopsticks and pulls his throat in "Sunday Rain" - just fire! Honestly, I don't even know if he's better at drums or his vocal cords.

And now let's take a look into the world of progressive metal with Brann Daylor from Mastodon. That's who the real drum virtuoso is! This guy manages not only to give out crazy rhythms, but also to sing at the same time in a way that takes your breath away.

Do you want to hear Brann in all his glory? Turn on "Oblivion" from the album "Crack the Skye". There he not only beats the most difficult rhythms, but also sings clean vocals, creating a stunning contrast with the growl of the main vocalist. And you know what? It just sounds cosmic!

[toonie-selfships]

Smiling cruise

@wulfums, started thinkin after a day of having no or negative thoughts, can finally type something out even if its not what i originally wanted, thought id tag you. so i been ponderin for a short minute and i was like "hm yes, put smiling friends on a cruise ship and write about what theyd get up to". simple ideas like that, youre more than welcome to reblog and add onto this what Lucky64 would be gettin up to

Lucky Charms & Gwimbly would be sharing a room obvi, probably one with a balcony because everything would be paid for by Charms, this is probably after the game ceo finally dies and Charms finally gets their proper earnings of music revenue.

Charms would be up early and awake late, so barely any sleep because they're excited. In the mornings they'd stand on the balcony to watch the sunrise, at night theyre probably on top deck watching the sun set and then probably dancing through the empty decks with their headphones on in the middle of the night to burn left over energy before returning to an already asleep Gwimbly.

Gwimbly would be the sleep late, wake up late type. and probably a bed hog. sometimes hes up earlier but thats a rarity. say this cruise is like 2 weeks or something, 4 out of those 12 days hes awake early.

They'd have a table alone but it'd always be close to Allan & Whatwulfs because they like to hang out and talk whenever they run into eachother. Gwimbly and Allan probably have quiet tension from the whole hose thing, Gwimbly never really forgave him for that. Maybe Charlie, Pim & Glep are also at that table, maybe not, that'd probably depend on you

Lucky carries their headphones and autism bag everywhere they go, especially to actives, they know how crowded and loud things can get sometimes and theyre always prepared. Gwimbly also always double checks to ensure they have their stuff, hes had to be the main escort out of a situation a few times when they first started dating because Charms forgot their stuff. He hates seeing them so distressed when they thought things would be fun and fine.

Charms is usually Gwimblys drink cut off, they dont really like seeing him incredibly drunk unless theyre both shitfaced and Charms cant cut either of them off, but that doesnt happen often, best Charms' gets is tipsy from a few cocktails.

Gwimbly spends alot of time in the arcade, usually at the little duck claw machine (every cruise ive been on had one and i love them) trying to win as many unique ducks for Charms before they can win them themselves, he knows they love random bullshit like that. however gwimbly is in no way a master at it like he claims.

On land days they try to stick with the main group and/or Allan & WW (im just gonna shorten it to ww for whatwulf sometimes or just wulf, lazy like that ✌️). Charms isnt great at directions in new locations and gets stressed easy when they dont know where to go, especially on a time limit.

the two of them collect as many postcards, magnets, keyrings and pins as they can. Lucky has a rather large collection and gwimbly wants to be apart of it.

Gwimbly has definitely fallen into the pools a few times. completely sober.

the two like to spend more time in the 18+ pool areas just to be away from the rowdy kids and parents.

Charms brought their laptop and stuff to still make music since they always love making music on down times. Gwimbly is slowly learning to draw, sure its akin to a 3 year olds but hes doing his best and Charms loves everything he draws no matter what, seeing their face genuinely light up fills him with the confidence to get better.

sometimes gwimbly gets a lil too handsy outside the room but not too much to warrent trouble, he just cant help it, he tries to hold onto charms as much as possible because hes terrified of losing them to homelessness again like the day he lost them after the games fell through.

Gwimbly & Charms participate in costume nights but if its somethin theyre not crazy into then theyre kinda half assing it.

Loathsome mozzy eaters (again all what i think would happen ur welcome to change and add things)

Allan probably sleeps early and wakes up early.

ww falls asleep real early and wakes up at the same time as allan to watch the sunrise together.

unintentionally got the balcony room next to lucky64, wave to eachother often. allan probably goes inside early if he hears them getting all googly at eachother or making out.

whenever theyre not in the dining rooms theyre either at the help yourself restaurant or the fancy pay to be at restaurant because allan wants to treat ww.

allan does all the shoretour talks while whatwulf does most of the friendly first interactions.

both probably get a lil tipsy but never overly drunk unlike everyone else (excluding glep and his wife).

allan got the cruise through work most likely.

whatwulf swims the most

both of them also use the 18+ pools to be away from kids #ChildFree.

allan has never seen Charms tic before and probably thinks theyre drunk or something at first before asking them about it, hes slowly learning to get used to it and pay no mind to any unintentional noises.

wulf understands Charms' tourettes well since theyre better friends than them and allan, sometimes he'll help explain them to others when Charms cant themselves.

they def kiss at sunset on leaving day & going home day.

allan seems like he'd enjoy trivia, much like Lucky Charms, they always swap answers with eachother at the end.

whatwulf HAS to see every performance, theyre too good not to see.

whatwulf probably doesnt get sea sick as easily as everyone else due to being an aquatic-ish critter.

whatwulf is also probably a connoisseur of rubber ducks, very appreciative of them when gifted by allan.

shore days the two try to find their own way around unless its really unfamiliar and they get a shoretour.

allan makes sure they both have any autism things they need, if somehow they forget something Charms always has something similar to offer. fidget toy? sorted. earplugs? cleaned daily with interchangeable silicone or the soft foam ones for someone elses keeping.

ww is ALWAYS prepped and goes all out for costume nights, hes always matching with allan to the T no matter what!

sometimes on quiet nights they'll slow dance on the lido deck when no one else is around.

what everyone else is doin (aka charlie, pim, glep + Marge and maybe mr boss + Jason)

literally NOBODY trusts pims with directions and shit, not after Brazil.

Charlie and pim get shitfaced on the regular.

charpim share a room more in the middle of the boat, they dont have a balcony.

100% from work tickets.

glep and marge have their own room on a different floor, opposite side of the boat, balcony.

all 4 of them share a table with mr boss and jason, sometimes allan and whatwulf. pim gets along with gwimbly and no one really talks to charms that much because only allan and whatwulf really know them. pim tries to talk with lucky sometimes though to get to know them. charlie silently questions their tics but never has the balls to ask.

mr boss puts jason in the kidsclubs even though hes 18, jason fuckin loves the kids clubs because who wouldnt? i fuckin loved kids clubs.

mr boss kinda scares lucky sometimes, his random outbursts of actions scare the crap out of them.

glep and marge sometimes get a table to themselves when they want a quiet moment.

charlie fuckin hates being dragged to every single activity by pim. "pim cant we just slow down and play mini golf or something man? my knees are killing me."

pim is always first awake out of everyone in the group, he swims the most too.

charlie rides the waterslides 50 times in a row whenever he can, though hes gotta take big ass breaks between them for his pace maker.

[sarelcon]

I have been remaking Salem from RWBY, I made her originally in 2020 but I know I can do a better job of sewing now. I also decided to make the weird floating orb dude (I call him my Eldritch Gumball Machine).

The dress is still in process, but I absolutely zoomed through some crafting today

I bought a plastic lighting globe cover off of Amazon. I made a base out of EVA foam and used that to hide the battery for the lights that will go inside this. I bashed out a bunch foam spikes and random shapes. I’ll be covering these with foam clay later for texture

I made the hanging parts with more foam. I scrunched up some 1mm foam after heating it. For the tentacles, these are jewelry wire wrapped in 2mm foam. I’ll be covering these with foam clay later.

Here’s a video of the Eldritch Gumball Machine so far with the magnet attachment system being demonstrated. My crazy idea is actually working 😱

[sp4mja]

So I've decided to accept who I am and make a OP x QSMP AU. But before making any art I made a list of possible Devil Fruits each member would have plus some lore

This will be a long and extremely self-indulgent post, so everything regarding this AU is under the cut.

So, both the hispanics and the English speakers are invited to the island, they all range from ex marines to civilians to pirates. The only thing they have in common is that everyone is a devil fruit user, which quickly raises their suspicions about the island.

The logic behind having so many Devil Fruit users together is that the Federation purposefully gathered them all together. Expect for the brazilians and the french, who just happened to stumble upon the island, some of them do have devil fruits but not all.

And that's one of the reasons why the Federation dislike them, as they don't fit in the plan.

Speaking of the Brazilians and the French!

The Brazilians knew each other before the island but very briefly (except for Pac, Mike and Cellbit) since they all made it into the same ship and ended up crashing on Quesadilla island (Felps is not a good navigator and Forever was too worried to actually steer the ship.)

As for the French, they were traveling to a Sky Island on a big ship and they ended up falling from the sky, they didn't particularly know each other before but they grew closer on the ship before the ship fell.

Now, I'm still thinking about some fruits and roles (backstory from the cubitos before the island) but these are my general ideas, feel free to share your thoughts!

Some of my ideas are pretty self-explanatory but ask away if you have any doubts!

● Hispanics:

Luzu — tbh idk something about metals, maybe the smelt-smelt fruit? Maybe even a cyborg

Rubius — .... Wish-Wish fruit?? He grants wishes or something

Mariana — Whisper-Whisper Fruit (Taking into account his rp on tortillaland and integrating it into the qsmp, he should be able to talk to animals. I don't think the animals talk back tho)

Spreen — Bear-bear Fruit Model Black Bear

Missa — Bird-Bird Fruit Model Raven / Revive-Revive Fruit (Debating over this, specially because it would be funny if both Missa and Philza share similar DF, but also skeleton Missa is fun)

Roier — Spider-Spider Fruit Model Latrodectus Hesperus (black widow)

Vegetta — Scroll-Scroll Fruit (He's the wise man of the mountain, I'm sure he uses his knowledge to make powerful scrolls)

Maximus — Clank-Clank Fruit / Magnet-Magnet Fruit (Tbh I want something relating to Max's abilities with machines)

Quackity — String-String Fruit (freaky, the man who pulls the strings)

● English:

Wilbur — Tone-Tone Fruit / Song-Song Fruit (For this one I think going with Uta's power is better, Wilbur is extremely powerful but he is also a whimsical British guy who sings beautiful songs for his daughter to have a good night of sleep)

Fit — Pop-Pop Fruit

Philza — Bird-Bird Fruit Model Crow (Love-Love fruit if I'm feeling a little crazy, he turns Forever into stone sll the time)

Jaiden — Bird-Bird Fruit Model Parrot / Brush-Brush Fruit (As much as I love parrot jaiden, I think she being able to draw bobby after his death but stopping herself from bringing the art to life is extremely angsty and I love it)

Bad — Hollow-Hollow Fruit

Foolish — Shark Fish man. Swim Swim Fruit (I know, he can't swim so he now has a fruit that lets him swim everywhere? Yeah, but also a logia fruit that could help him build fits as well)

Dan — ? (Sorry)

Slime — Jello-Jello Fruit (Following the food themed devil fruits from the Big Mom Pirates, he turns into Jello... Lime flavor, he is sticky, sugary and a little sour, both Mariana and Juana are intrigued)

● Brazilians:

Cellbit — Archeologist and Archivist, former captain of a crew (as much as I would love to give Cellbit a DF, I think it would be charming if he could save Roier from falling into the sea all the time, as well as Felps)

Felps — Calm-Calm Fruit (He makes silent bubbles for Richarlyson everytime he gets overwhelmed, best dad)

Forever — Navigator (Pirate, former marine, he loves travelling and lost his right hand man on the way)

Pac and Mike— Shipwrights (Do not separate. They make the craziest ships on the world. Also criminals with bounties but not necessarily pirates)

● French:

Baguera — Mink Duck (she's a duck, she went to explore the world and oh well)

Etoiles — Woods-Woods Fruit / Arms-Arms Fruit (This one is complicated, he is a cucumber (?) So I thought a extremely powerful fruit like the Woods-Woods one its him, but he is also very dangerous and into weapons, so the other one also fits him? He is a bounty hunter)

Antoine — Stich-Stich fruit (He stiches dirt together, doesn't really use his power but he starts doing it after Pomme gets interested (he makes her clothes!!!))

Kameto — Normal ninja lmao (literally just a ninja, just a guy, he is terrifying)

Pierre — Inventor (Both Marines and Pirates buy his inventions, money is everything)

As for the eggs, I believe they follow the same logic as the seraphims. They were artificially made using human DNA and thats why they are both inteligent and fragile. They are replaceable and the Federation can make more if they find a quicker and cheaper way.

Oh and Cucurucho, I think it would be extremely fucked up if it has the Shadow-Shadow fruit. Imagine Cucurucho taking Cellbit's shadow, creepy.

[timehascomeagain]

It's crazy cuz this whole article is literally the opposing magnetic forces that england is currently crushing through like this understanding that this is a country built on the enslavement of quarter of the entire planet and that's an awkward and not easily fixed thing that must be continuously contended with, and at the same time there is this desire to pretend that going to the convenience shop also means something culturally in the face of that kind of legacy of blood. It's this disgusting glibness regarding the blood money circulating thru this country— we all know that slavery and empire is baked into every english institution and that's a comedically uncomfortable shared truth that we can fall back on to laugh at(!), we know that if there's a statue of a man there is a nonzero chance he owned other human beings which is a funny comment to make(!)— and all the while this country is STILL!!!!!! working in the machine of empire & to act like its imperial history is something to look back on and joke abt its backwardness is to ignore the suffering still being caused by these systems. Lol!