#Watts-lens

[lensinne]

🪻

[uglare1]

3.0 inch 30W-35W 5500K Round Shaped Bi LED Fog Projector Lens Kit

"Product Details: The Fog Projector Lens is not the same as the headlight lens. Fog lamps (whether in the front or in the rear) are not mandatory and are considered auxiliary lights. But without a fog light lens, it will much dangerous in heavy fog, rain, and other weather conditions that reduce your visibility on the road. Our bi-led fog light lens has high beam and low beam which make your driving much safer.

Specification: Feature: Bi-LED projector lens, offer both high lights and low lights function. With the solenoid and cutting shield, these bi-led fog projector lenses can provide beautiful low beams and high beams. Projector Dimensions: 3.0 inches. This is 3.0 inches bi-led projector lens.

LED chip: Built-in Customized LED chips. High-Quality Taiwan LED chips are used to provide good quality with brighter lighting output. These Customized LED chips have 24 month’s warranty." For more information visit https://www.uglare.com/product/3-0-inch-35w-5500k-round-shaped-bi-led-fog-projector-lens-kit/

[lenfigureoftheday]

⚡️Todays Len “Figure” is:

Big Acrylic Keychain (Can Do, Daiso, Seria, Synapse Japan, Watts)⚡️

[strangelittlestories]

You were tired. You just wanted to get home. You were in an unfamiliar part of town.

You brought up the map on your phone. You tapped the saved ‘home’ marker.

The route began to unspool itself. The blue-light string rolled out to mark your path. As always.

Then it stalled. Stopped. A glitch of static. Suddenly, the route ran off the side of the map like a river breaking its banks.

That couldn’t be right. You flipped your phone upside down. Turned it side to side. The screen rotated, twisted, contorted to catch up. Still the strand of blue trailed off the map and into the void.

You closed the app. Reloaded. Tapped ‘home’ again. The same static thunder flash. The same trail, a loose thread in reality.

You entered your address manually. Same result.

You changed your starting point. Still, the suggested route twisted tantalisingly into the darkness.

You frowned. You tutted. You shrugged.

You followed the trail. You didn’t know why.

The trails led you across brightly lit roads. You expected alleys, but every path was illuminated in brilliant sodium. Light enough to cast a crown of shadows, but not dark enough to make you walk amongst them.

No, your map did not lead you into void. Instead, your path took you straight into the glare of the floodlights. You blinked against the real life lens flare. By the time you had blinked the spots out of your eyes, you were walking up a ray of 150-watt electric light.

You were already so high in the night. The path stretched up from the street lamps, spreading yellow like dandelion petals.

Your phone dangled from one hand, forgotten. But the app’s comet trail wriggled a happy dance in front of you, still leading the way.

Only five minutes from your destination now.

The city spread itself out beneath you, its highway arteries and concrete bones just patterns in the carpet under foot.

Three minutes.

The second-hand glare of a thousand thousand lamps, tail-lights, windows and adverts grew solid round you.

One minute.

An echo of the city limits welcomed you: ‘Now entering…’

In a cage made of light pollution, on a nest made of movement, the gods of the city welcomed you to their favourite haunt and offered you a tall glass of cool dreaming.

“We’ve been waiting for you.” They said.

“I know.” You said.

“We’re so afraid.”

“I know.”

“Will you help us?” They asked.

You smiled and sipped your drink.

[para-sicht]

Daily OCs until I start LENS

Day 175

“the internet’s homegrown boogeyman”

-LNS FIELD REPORT-

From: I.L. Audrey Watts

Approved by: Lena Song

Case ID: T-961009-22

Title: ████ ██

Details:

To be honest with the supervisors reading this, I believe this case should be the push needed to create a new classification under the LNS. The internet is only getting bigger and bigger, and what we faced today was only proof of that. The internet has collectively called it the “████ ██”. It began in a photoshop contest on a popular internet forum. It is most definitely a tulpa, but one created by the collective consciousness of hundreds of thousands of people across the globe adding their own spins on the “character”. Even the concept of it being a tulpa is played with inside the narratives. This has resulted in a particularly powerful being, an urban legend, a zeitgeist of the internet’s ever growing communities. This level of cross-communication has led to the creation of an urban legend/tulpa at unprecedented speed.

[sirhamburrger]

episode four: scream... or maybe not? - atsumu miya

kai's halloween '24 miniseries - a halloween to remember!!

CONTENT WARNINGS: msby visits a haunted house, fake murder, fake blood, 1 (one) ghostface appearance

EPISODE RUNTIME: 997 words || previous (episode three) || next (episode five)

moodboard

“hey, guys, welcome to the msby black jackals’ official blog!” you wave at the camera, and turn the phone lens on your team. well, it’s more like three of the team's members. inunaki's out with his girlfriend, barnes is out of the country, and tomas is visiting his parents in aichi. of course, meian wants nothing to do with their nonsense, least of all on a peaceful wednesday evening.

hinata and bokuto flash mega-watt smiles at the camera, waving enthusiastically. sakusa hides from the prying lens, pulling his mask up further.

and atsumu… is late. 

an annoyed sakusa mutters some not-very-complimentary comments under his breath, but as if on cue, you spot a familiar head of piss-blond hair making its way through the crowd. you have the inexplicable urge to tear it from its owner’s scalp.

“aaaaand… here he is. finally. say hi, atsumu.”

“hey, y'all!” blissfully ignorant of your annoyance, he shoots the camera the sideways smirk that msby's fans practically live for. “i've been preparin’ for today with scary movie marathons. no way this is gonna scare me off!”

“i dunno, miya… this place seems mighty creepy, don't you think?” you grin widely, and the camera pans over to show an old dilapidated house. the vicinity is illuminated briefly by a flash of lightning as you speak, like a cartoon cliché. his fearless facade seems to falter, and you chuckle.

“in case you didn't already know,” bokuto chirps, throwing an arm around your shoulder, “we're at the spookiest haunted house in osaka tonight to test our mettle!”

“i'm placing bets on atsumu to run out screaming like a little girl,” sakusa comments offhandedly. the chat goes crazy, spamming laughing-crying emojis and asking to hear atsumu's response to this.

atsumu's eyes narrow. “you've got a bet, omi-omi. if i get through without chickening out, i win.”

“loser does water-bottle duty for a month,” hinata challenges. a hush falls over the rest as the atmosphere seems to change, the stakes raised.

“no,” atsumu breathes. 

sakusa's tone is uncharacteristically smug. 

“then, don't lose.”

you find that atsumu is the worst haunted house partner ever. he's screaming at every moving shadow and every flashing light. not to mention that his terrified yelps are the most horror-movie-realistic noises you've head all night. you groan. you may have had to split up at the entrance, but why oh why didn't you take sakusa along with you instead? 

“chat, are you seeing this?” atsumu says for the fifth time in seven minutes, and you snatch the phone from his hand.

just then, you hear a floorboard creak loudly, and the sound of a heavy object hitting a hard surface. your guard is instantly up, and you scan your surroundings for any potential scares. atsumu follows close behind you, ragged breaths fanning down the back of your neck.

“don't tell me you're scared already.” you smile wickedly, pressing the tip of your finger to your lips. “we're just getting started.”

“try me,” atsumu retorts, plastering a confident smile on his face. he leans in to stare at you, and you push his face away with your hand, blushing.

as you move into the next room, brandishing the phone in front of you, the chat overflows with messages telling you there's something moving in the far corner. atsumu squints, angling his head away from the phone screen to peer into the darkness…

and screams. 

you let out a noise of annoyance. you push him aside to take a look for yourself, and sure enough, it's another haunted house cliché. a masked ghostface killer stabs a woman gasping for air, and looks up as they notice you.

“come on, miya, you know it's another of their gimmicks-” you start to say, but you cut yourself off when the masked figure stands up and advances towards the two of you.

“sir, i don't think the staff are supposed to be coming this close to the visitors…” atsumu's voice trails off, and he grabs ahold of your arm firmly, backing the two of you away.

ghostface chuckles. “you really think this is all just a part of the experience?”

fear grips you like a cold hand.

“run,” the woman rasps, blood spurting out from her neck wound, and the two of you turn back the way you came, panting and looking back periodically. being the pro athlete he is, atsumu quickly overtakes you. you hear the knife-wielding psycho bearing down on you and suddenly you're hoisted across atsumu's shoulders as he bolts for the exit. you're horrified to find it's locked, and as you yell for him to go the other way, the lights come on.

what?

you hear bokuto and hinata’s raucous laughter, and ghostface pulls his mask off. to your shock, it’s osamu, and you realise this must have all been an elaborate prank. targeting atsumu, no doubt, but unfortunately you’ve been caught in the crossfire. suddenly you’re all too aware of atsumu’s arms around you, holding you securely in place.

“atsumu,” you sigh. “you can put me down now.”

face flushed, he sets you back on the ground.

there is a lot of screaming and yelling and roughhousing once the initial shock wears off. shaking your head, you go back to retrieve your phone, which you’d dropped during the chase. you find it in a corner of the room and stand up to leave-

and bump into atsumu.

“well,” atsumu says after an awkward silence. “sorry fer scaring ya over somethin’ that wasn’t even real.”

“it’s all good, i didn’t even realise it wasn’t.” you offer him a genuine smile, which quickly turns into a devious smirk. “i also didn’t realise you were the gentlemanly type. thought you’d leave your poor manager for dead at the first sign of danger.” 

he follows you out, protesting, but there’s a soft glimmer in his eyes that wasn’t there before, and that you think you’d like to see again.

even if it means getting jumpscared again.

DIRECTOR'S NOTE:

dang this was kinda long and also kinda unserious

(but then again, this is atsumu we're talking about here)

watched scream original (i did not scream but salmon did) (a lot)

last chapter incoming! already cooking up ideas for halloween 2025 lol

borders are by @saradika-graphics!

© sirhamburrger 2024

[little-pup-pip]

Just curious, what requests do you have in your queue/to do currently? If you're ok with saying it that is :]

Oh boy, that's a bigger question than last time someone asked! I have over 200 waiting requests at this point!! Because of that this got very very long, so I put the rest under the cut! Like last time, this is in order of how recently I received the request, and doesn't mean I'm too busy to take new requests!!

Ibara saegusa (enstars)

Monochrome oranges cats and angels

Gloomy bear

Another rockruff (maybe)

Cult of the lamb (specifically the lamb)

Llewellyn Watts (Murdoch Mysteries)

Jake (trailer park warlock)

Cult of the lamb (pet dreaming themed)

Bear therian

Selkie

Ice bear (we bare bears)

Tubbo (maybe)

Snow leopard

Pink

Australian shepherd (pupre)

Cassie (fnaf: ruin)

Draik (neopets)

The rainbow fish

Black kitten + space

Pumpkin head (maybe, needs more research)

Alice in wonderland

Sheep

Someone's OC Avery & siblings

Gothic

Star catcher (MLP)

Masc version of my druid board

Scrooge CG (2009 film)

Beetlejuice

Superstar daycare (fnaf)

1950s + ocean

Pandas + light purple and black

Dandelions

Willy wonka CG (recent movie)

Maki Harukawa (Danganronpa)

Kidcore Halloween + pumpkin puppy Webkinz

Fruit bat

Mermaid

Pastel purple + pandas

Robocar Poli

Brown, lime green and forest green puppy

Weird Barbie CG

Shiny Vaporeon

Where the wild things are

Squid

Dylan (the magic roundabout)

Conner CG (Detroit become human)

Mitsuri kanroji (demon slayer)

Minecraft mooshrooms

Sharks or wolves (haven't decided)

Hot Wheels

Miffy

Fox

Sharks

Zombies

Vincent (dead plate)

Vintage kitty dreaming

Deadpool

Shane CG (stardew valley)

Wolf pup

Celestia and Luna (MLP)

Soft blue and yellow

Pascal (animal crossing)

Pastel blue and pink

Batman CG

Ram

Osamu dazai (bungo stray dogs)

Dylan (the quarry)

Rain/nature + white rabbits

Ox

Penguin + dinosaur

Noah (total drama island)

Vision CG (marvel)

Light blue

Bumble bees + lavender

Yellow + ducks

Bearded vulture

Barn owl

Queen barb (trolls world tour)

Oliver (vocaloid)

Light green light brown and beige

Mind (Chonny Jash/CCCC)

Cinnamoroll + emu otori (project sekai)

Yellow+ chicks and puppy stuffies

Seam CG (deltarune)

Plants vs zombies

Viktor (arcane)

Queen of trash CG (Elmo goes to grouch land)

John Constantine (Justice League Dark)

Aziraphale (good omens)

Scenecore

Musa (winx club)

Leap frog

Hyper feminine puppy

Crow + black cat

Totodile + bodies of water

Bees

Sackboy (Little Big Planet) and or My Melody

Baby crocodile

Animal crossing

Pastel kitten

Doki doki literature club

Keralis (Hermitcraft, maybe)

90s grunge

Tula tones (novi stars)

Eevee + dragons

Kitten + stars

Ratchet (rescue bot academy)

Pastel shark

Mikan Tsumiki (Danganronpa)

Mushrooms

Grey + Ross federman youtooz

Sparkly dragon

Blue and purple + puppies

Ducks + alt/Gothic lean

Cinnamoroll

Shadow (sonic)

Jellyfish

Boyfriend.xml (Friday night funkin')

Puppet (fnaf)

Golden retriever + yellow and blue

Bernese mountain dog

Strawberries

Genshin impact

Len or Miku

Toothless (httyd)

Eddworld

Donnie (rise of the tmnt)

The princess and the grilled cheese sandwich

Pastel goth princess

SpongeBob

Karako Pierot (hiveswap)

Young Michael Afton

Soft fox

Great pyrenees + farm

Ike eveland

Invader Zim + neon green

Julius Caesar (Octavian, night at the museum, waiting until March for this one)

Scorpion

Vampire squid

Golden retriever (again, lol)

Cats + playing outside

Border Collie

Tiger

Argos CG (World of Mr. Plant) 

Pochacco

Mortal Kombat

marble cross fox/forest/fantasy (I'm figuring this one out still)

Puppy + SpongeBob

characters from Project Sekai, Hoshino Ichika, Mochizuki Honami, Akiyama Mizuki and Kusanagi Nene.

Baby vulture

Frog with more fem themes

Rain world/slugcat

Dark academia/cottagecore

Border Collie

Modded smash hit rooms

Crying child (fnaf)

Agent Smith CG (the matrix)

Katamari

Enjolras (les miserable)

Rolfe DeWolfe CG (Rockafire Explosion)

Bugbo

Slime rancher

Puppet (fnaf)

CosMc's

Parado (Kamen Rider)

Tally hall

Gordon (all engines go)

Spinel (Steven universe)

Cater diamond (twisted wonderland)

Rockabilly (probably)

Felix Lee

Jing yuan CG (Hsr)

Charles Xavier CG (X-Men)

Toki wartooth (metalocalypse)

Naoto Shirogane (persona 4)

Kitoto (I don't know what he's from)

17th century dutch

Sirena von boo (monster high)

Jake (miss peregrines home for peculiar children)

Minecraft

Sees behind trees

Allay (Minecraft, I think)

Spinosaurus screenshots or products

Tecchou (Bungo Stray Dogs)

Barbara (genshin impact)

Tasmanian devil

Spamton CG (deltarune)

Spinosaurus

Grunge + lop eared bunnies

Yume-Nikki

Daxter (jak and daxter)

Madness combat for puppies

James Sunderland (silent Hill)

Shirokuma (Danganronpa)

Leo (IDW comic)

[eregyrn-falls-art]

Went down to Woods Hole, MA, on Cape Code, for brunch on Sunday. Afterwards poked around Woods Hole and Falmouth; and I wanted to see Nobska Light while we were there. While chilly and windy, we were still feeling the benefits of the warm weekend, and had to bundle up less than you'd expect for a trip to the Cape in February.

Nobska Light is very cute and scenic! It wasn't open, and while the Keeper's house seems to have been renovated and is planned to be a maritime museum, it wasn't open either. On the other side of the road was a short path to the cliff above the ocean (really, Vineyard Sound), where we looked out at Martha's Vineyard to the east, and the Elizabeth Islands chain to the west. Birds spotted: common eiders, red breasted mergansers, and a long-tailed duck drake came flying in.

Here's the text of the historical sign:

NOBSKA LIGHTHOUSE Latitude 41 30' 54" N Longitude 70 39' 20" Since 1828, Nobska Light has provided a familiar beacon for "all who go down to the sea in ships". 67 feet above sea level, Nobska's flash every six seconds is visible 17 miles out to sea. This 28,000 candlepower light used a 1000-watt lamp magnified by a Fourth Order Fresnel lens. The red section visible ton the east side of the lantern house warns ships away from Hedge Fence and L'Hommedieu Shoals south of the Cape. The present tower is 42 feelt high and was constructed in 1876. It was built to replace the original "Nobsque" light, a stone cottage with a light tower on top which had stood since 1828. The present tower is made of a cast iron shell lined with brick. It was built in Chelsea, Massachusetts and transported to Cape Cod in four sections. The front half of the current "keeper's house" was also built in 1876. Originally painted dark maroon-brown, it had a covered walkway to the tower attacked in 1899 and a second "assistant keeper's house" added in 1907. [Note: see bottom-right photo above.] Over the year, windows, doors, porches and walkways have come and gone and the color has been changed to the classic Coast Guard white with red roof. [Note: this sign is now out of date; the keeper's house is no longer white, although it still has its red roof; it is now covered in cedar shingles, which have weathered to a grey color.] Nobska Light became part of the Coast Guard in 1939, when the U.S. Light House Service merged with the Coast Guard. Despite this change, the keepers of the light remained civilians until Mr. Hindley retired in 1973, when active duty Coast Guard keepers took up the duty. In 1983, Nobska Light was automated. The two keepers houses were joined and became the quarters for Commander Coast Guard Group Woods Hole and his family. The Woods Hole Group serves the mainland and islands from Plymouth, Massachusetts to the Rhode Island/Connecticut state line.

Older photos above and some information came from:

The Enterprise, Falmouth: "History of Nobska Light Sheds Light on More Than Navigation" (July 15, 2015)

New England Lighthouses: A Virtual Guide. History of Nobska Point Light, Woods Hole, Massachusetts

Friends of Nobska Light

IDs in ALT text

[anne-bsd-bibliophile]

"Nobody's perfect" is such a common phrase, but depending on how it is used it can be very toxic.

I grew up in a very religious Mormon community with strict standards. For as long as I remember, I was told that people sin every day and so we have to repent of our sins every day as well. That's what "nobody's perfect" meant to them. Instead of the phrase being used to console or encourage, I mostly heard it as a way of passing judgement. "So-and-so is great, but nobody's perfect. They have plenty of shortcomings they should be working on as well." Many of my family, friends, and neighbors did everything they could to hide their own "sins" while looking down on others for whatever "sins" they must be committing, because everyone apparently sins every day.

And that's what I grew up believing. I thought I had to be perfect, because the goal was to get through the day sin free, or at least that's how I saw it. If I did everything I was told to do by my parents, teachers, and church leaders then I would be considered a good person, right? Actually, when I was a little older I learned that my unconscious thoughts were apparently full of sin as well! And my human desires were also sinful. And anything I did purely for myself was considered selfish. I remember being taught multiple times that there were good, better, and best uses of my time. Reading a book for fun was good, reading a book to learn and improve myself was better, and reading scriptures was best. So now I had to feel guilty for my unconscious thoughts I couldn't control, my body doing what it was built to do, and I had to feel guilty for having any fun or putting myself first.

As an adult I realized all of what I'd believed to be true my entire upbringing was bullshit. There is absolutely no way any person could avoid "sinning" if everything about me was considered wrong the way they made it sound. And because I wasn't perfect, because "nobody's perfect", I was made to feel like I had to make myself into as near a perfect being as I could manage in order to deserve even a morsel of acceptance or praise. But even that little bit of value I'd earned for myself wasn't worth anything because I would be reminded again and again that "nobody's perfect", meaning I'm not perfect, meaning I hadn't really earned anything in the end. All this made me feel like I was worthless and I couldn't do anything to change that.

Everything changed for me when I started learning about emotional abuse. My father was a diagnosed narcissist and he was very good at being emotionally abusive, so I had to learn how to deal with that. While I was reading about narcissistic abuse, I also realized that the religion I grew up in used the same tactics. I learned at church that everything about me was sinful. Literally. The list of sins in endless. I eventually realized that if you twist anything a certain way you can make it look like a sin, which then gives you a reason to look down on anyone who is committing that "sin." So no matter how "good" I was, I would never be good enough to anyone who was looking at me through the lens of "nobody is perfect because we are all sinners."

I remember sitting in church next to my mom one day when a woman who lived down the street was speaking. She was describing how she always felt like she wasn't good enough, she belittled herself and her accomplishments, put herself down, and made a public display of how guilty she felt and how that was why she was so humble and could feel closer to Christ. I looked at my mom and whispered, "It sounds like she's been emotionally abused." From the typical Mormon perspective, what this woman was expressing showed how humble she was. But now I could recognize that from another perspective what she said showed signs that she was a victim of emotional abuse.

Alan Watts said it better than I ever could: "Christianity institutionalized guilt as a virtue." I was taught to feel guilty even for just existing in order to make me feel indebted to God at church and my narcissistic father at home. Once I recognized how toxic that way of thinking was I couldn't bring myself to even pretend I was religious anymore. Now my way of thinking is more along the lines of, "Nobody is meant to be perfect, which is what makes everyone perfect in their own way." Instead of needing to be good enough, I'm learning to recognize the inherent value in everyone, including myself.

[lensinne]

They’re cute

[laryssamedeirss]

Can someone analyse sydcarmy this season through the lens of Some kind of wonderful? I want to know in what part we are cause i fully believe the bear is giving me a longer version of Keith and Watts

[waugh-bao]

Journalist: So you came up with this incredibly broad album [Voodoo Lounge]?

Keith: True. [laughs] You say one thing and it's always another. But maybe that was the focus -- maybe the lens was broad enough that everyone can see it. To me, the important thing was - as usual --that when I first sit down with Charlie Watts, I'll know within 12 bars. We don't have to work on the playing now or "Oh my, we're a bit rusty here," which was the case in the Eighties. When Charlie came in, the band was flying and we knew this would be easy. There's nothing like confidence.

(1994)

[lenfigureoftheday]

⚡️Todays Len “Figure” is:

Acrylic Carabiner (Can Do, Daiso, Seria, Synapse Japan, Watts)⚡️

[book4air]

Original Release: 4/15/2023

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Book4Air Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/WrBlPro Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/LuciaLobosvilla Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/book4air Pillowfort: https://www.pillowfort.social/book4air Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/r/ATLABook4Air/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/Book4Air/

Showrunners: Ryoma Ishizuka Lucía Lobosvilla

Voice Directors: Lucía Lobosvilla Anthony Rodriguez

Composers: James A Reilly Aneesh Kashalikar Cyrus 'Moustronaut' Whitt

Head Audio Engineer: Sam Gabriel

Mixing Engineers: Ryoma Ishizuka John Kelly Parrott

Line Placement: Grant Corvin Sam Gabriel Xuan Vinh Huynh Valravn

Mastering: Kim Morton

Video Editors: TheRealizer367 (Walter Vitola) Darkmax204 PhantomSavage CurtisCreatesGames Astrid Evv Mr Amazing VA Ryoma Ishizuka

Special Thanks: Book 4 Restoration Project Team Dark Horse Comics Nickelodeon Gene Luen Yang Gurihiru Avatar Wiki Dave Roman Kevin Coppa Baby Lion Turtle Aaron Ehasz Bryan Konietzko Michael Dante DiMartino And You!

Patrons: Day Pokejedservo Madgod Mikosun Victoria McMullen Nichelle Phillips Prodogg Akiizayoi4869 Daniel Lacey Len Hagaren Tarryn Campbell Melissa Palacios Minnichi Akiizayoi4869 Can You Feel It Now (CYFIN) Mr. Krabs James Rath Shay B Lillie Ferland

Voice Cast

Aang - Ryoma Ishizuka Katara - Stephanie Pines Toph - Kauthar Harrak-Sharif Sokka - Grant Corvin Zuko - Cade Watts Appa/Momo - Josh Lee Sneers - Omar Martinez Jr Kori Morishita - Krystal Martinez Xing Ying - Mel Valentine Smellerbee - Shakyra Dunn Suki - Victoria McMullen General How - Ryan Hoyle Ozai - Jakob Dillon Penga - Heidi Tabing The Dark One - Jazzy Oliver Ho-Tun - Adam New King Kuei - Andre Faris Iroh - D. Tyler Fultz Azula - Lucía Lobosvilla Ursa - Chara Lin Kenji - JJ Williams Kota - James A. Reilly General Jee - Patrick Mealey Go Go Go Guy - Anthony Rodriguez Yudao Resident 1 - Anthony Rodriguez Yudao Resident 2 - Taylor Sameyah Yudao Resident 3 - Adam New Yudao Resident 4 (Mochi Guy) - Anthony Rodriguez Roku - Josh Lee Kyoshi - Jialing Pan Kuruk - Ryan Seale Yangchen - Su Ling Chan

Extras (Walla) Anthony Rodriguez John Archer II Lucía Lobosvilla Nichelle Phillips Maia Harlap Iris V Jazzy Oliver D. Tyler Fultz Alison Turjancik Cade Watts Adam New Jakob Dillon

[magnoliacharmed]

Introducing.... Thunderstorm!

This is a series featuring Sting & fem!Reader. The prompt for this was an anonymous request I received. Thank you again, anon! This is gonna a lot of fun for me to write. It’ll be seven chapters and will hopefully be completed soon!

[Also available on Archive of our Own!]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4

Summary:

After debuting as the newest member of nWo, you begin to develop a tumultuous relationship with Sting. Your newfound fame and problems in your personal life threaten to creep into your in-ring work. Kevin Nash tries to maintain the peace between you and Sting before everything falls completely apart at WCW.

Tags: 18+, enemies to lovers, angst, eventual smut, heavy alcohol use, implied/referenced drug use, additional tags to be added

September 1996

The cheers… the cheers were always deafening. You had gotten used to the lights beaming down on you, flash bulbs popping away, pyrotechnics shooting off behind you… but the cheers. It sent such a crazy rush of adrenaline through you every single time. No matter what kind of mood you were in, as soon as you hit the stage and heard the people scream for you, that thousand watt smile spread across your face in an instant. The cocky demeanor was present as usual from your expression to your stride. You turned your face into the nearest camera and winked. Knowing your voice was mostly inaudible over the crowd, curse word laden praises about yourself tumbled out of your mouth. The urge to make a kissy face at the gigantic lens was strong. You could feel like the star of the show as much as you wanted, but you knew you weren't.

It was another taping of WCW's Monday Nitro and you were once again walking out onto the mat with the members of the New World Order. You stood close behind the group almost as if you were their reinforcement. The positioning was always funny to you. If it came down to it, there was no way you could physically defend these giant men in a fight with your strength alone. Eric Bischoff enjoyed the optics though, comparing your role in the group to WWF's Chyna in D-Generation X. When he excitedly mentioned this in an effort to convince you, your stomach twisted up inside. Matching up to Chyna was a hard bar to cross. She looked like she actually could kick some ass. You on the other hand? You understood immediately that you were not an enforcer. You were essentially eye candy with a little fight in you. A very feisty valet. A tricky sexpot. Sure, you had a few moves that'd get you out of a tough situation but trained wrestler you were not.

There was no way you could ever get used to all this. Not when it had become such a massive part of your life in a short amount of time.

---

June 1996

When your friend Kevin Nash invited you to a taping of Monday Nitro you shrugged your shoulders. You had to admit that it wasn't something you were dying to see, but it gave you an excuse to dress up a little and party. He gave you and a friend the best seats in the house. The two of you pre-gamed pretty heavily before arriving. Cheap vodka settled in your lower stomach with the promise of providing a good time. Screaming fans in the arena helped you get amped up too, a frenzy quickly building around you as the show started. It didn't take long for you to notice how often the cameras kept focusing on you. One appeared so often you began to wonder if the smarmy cameraman had a crush on you. He constantly aimed the lens at your chest, pissing you off to the point that when he returned to zoom in on your breasts, you pointed a finger at him and grabbed his wrists up to put the camera on your face instead. A few harsh words drunkenly fell out of your mouth to him while you snarled. You then reached over the barrier to maneuver him to face back to the ring, accidentally giving him an even better view down your shirt in the seconds before he turned around.

Kevin watched the whole scene play out with a smile. Your reaction was the exact reason why he invited you. In the week after the show, Bischoff was shocked when a good chunk of the fanmail they received mentioned your name. Hardcore fans were wondering who the hell you were and casual watchers praised your outburst. Backstage, the other wrestlers kept asking Kevin to tell them more about you. He kept his mouth shut even though it was difficult. The plan slowly coming to fruition in his mind would make the silence all worth it.

"...Yeah, so they love you. Everyone keeps asking about you."

A few weeks after the show, Kevin's voice crackled over your house phone. Wherever he was it was loud. Thumping music and the voices of partygoers moved all around his voice.

"Are you in the club? Don't you have a show tomorrow night, man?"

"I can handle myself. You should come out with us sometime. You party harder than any of these fuckin' guys."

"I sincerely doubt that, Kev." You laughed. You were standing in your kitchen, leaning against the wall as a pot of water bubbled on the stove behind you. You'd known Kevin since middle school. Even with you moving away late in high school you stayed close friends. By the time you were able to reconnect in person he'd mentioned in passing that he was a wrestler for the WWF. He seemed very casual about the whole thing, probably because he'd always managed to fall into physical labor jobs due to his size and height. The WWF was just another gig as far as he was concerned. Eventually, he called you up again and said he was now with WCW. From the little you knew about wrestling it seemed to be a choice that made sense. WCW's programming was getting grittier with storylines that were aimed more at adults.

Kevin returned your laugh. "Okay, maybe not. You remember that time you killed--"

"The whole bottle of tequila? Of course, that was nothin'." You waved a hand in the air dismissively.

"Exactly. You can roll with the best of 'em. Which is exactly why…"

You sighed into the handset. Here he goes again.

"...you should join me in WCW. Give me one good reason why you won't."

"I can give you a few! One, I'm no wrestler. I can barely pick up a heavy box, what makes you think I can slam someone into a mat? Two, I don't want all that attention. Three, it sounds tiring. I can keep going."

"One, you don't have to be a wrestler. You can be like Ms. Elizabeth. Two, the attention isn't that bad, you get used to it. Sometimes it's even kinda fun. Three… yeah, you'll be tired. I can't lie about that one. It's worth it though, I'm telling you. The money's not bad. Aren't you tired of working at that beeper place?"

"Hold on," You set the phone down on your counter to check on the pot of water. As you turned the eye down on the stove and grabbed up your spaghetti, you stared into the rolling bubbles below you. What was that saying about the frog jumping into the water? It jumped in and right back out because the water was too hot. Although it wasn't quite the same, maybe you could jump into wrestling. Make some TV appearances and a little bit of money, then jump out before it got too, too hot. Your appetite vanished and the spaghetti no longer had any appeal to you.

Returning to the phone you were surprised Kevin was still there. You didn't understand why he was talking to you on a dirty club payphone when he could've been enjoying himself.

"Eh, Beeper City pays the bills. I like it fine. But you know, my little appearance on Nitro gave me a sales boost that week. I sold so many of those damn things the next day. My commission was crazy."

"If you come on the show every week, you won't have to worry about just 'paying the bills' on stupid pagers."

"What if I like my stupid pagers?"

Kevin scoffed into the phone at your stubbornness. Sometimes it made him laugh and other times it drove him up the wall.

Your lips pursed in thought. You'd been on the phone with him for a few minutes now and the same song was still playing in the background. The living room in front of you was so drab. You didn't see the point in decorating. Why decorate when you were barely "living" in it anyways? Nothing in the run-down apartment felt like it was truly yours. Your own life hadn't even felt like yours in recent months. You woke up, sold beepers, came home, drank 'til you fell asleep, then got up again the next day to do it all again. Sometimes you interspersed that riveting routine by going out to see a movie or a concert. It was no life to live.

You huffed nervously at the waiting silence on the other end. "Fuck it, Kev. Tell that Bischoff guy I'm in."

---

Mid October 1996

Your life changed faster than you could blink your eyes. Suddenly you were hitting different cities every week with your face on televisions across the nation. You got a little training before your debut. It was mostly just the basics, like how to fall properly and defending yourself. Your beeper job didn't do much for you in the way of exercise so even the little bit of work you put in at the gym wore you out and toned you up. Kevin was impressed at how fast you caught on. After Bischoff was satisfied with your minimal in-ring training, he explained the New World Order to you. You actually started to get excited about being in a group of rebels after spending so long being a boring stickler. Kevin introduced you to the rest of the crew with enthusiasm. Hulk Hogan and Scott Hall seemed happy to have you around. nWo was truly a boy's club though, and you weren't crazy enough to think your addition would change that. You drank and partied with them after shows but left when they started getting a little too wild. You were happy to have Kevin with you to stick by your side when you felt like an outcast.

The first time you walked out onto the mat with the group, ratings jumped the same way they did at your first audience appearance. You would've liked to think the ratings spike was because people were so excited to see new talent. After rewatching the taping a few days later you realized it was because of another slimy cameraman's angles. He zoomed right in on your ass while you climbed in the ring. The tight black shorts you wore had bunched up while you climbed in. It all made sense that there was an increase in cheers when you had gotten between the ropes. You shook your head in anger while watching it. The game is the game, you thought. The better you played it the more you could control it. You let the overly exploitative camera angles slide because you knew it would lead to good ratings and better checks. Kevin nodded in approval when you vented to him about it, sympathizing with you on the outside and smiling on the inside. Everything was working out.

Over the next few months your popularity shot up. In addition to your body doing you plenty of favors, fans loved the way you played off the rest of nWo. When they were in the ring you screamed from the sidelines in support of the group. You hit your rivals with steel chairs and innocently readjusted your shorts to distract them while they got pinned. The crowd screamed their heads off when Kevin would launch you like a rocket into the ring to knock someone down or latch onto their back to beat away at them.

After a few months of this routine you began to get fully comfortable with your persona. There was no need to fake it 'til you made it when you really had made it. People began to recognize you in public. They clamored around you for autographs and pictures together. To go from scraping by on quotas and commission, wondering if you'd have enough for a cheap six-pack of beer then to having more money than you knew what to do with made your head swim. Looking in the mirror at yourself was no longer an arduous task. Your eyes sparkled with new life and excitement. The hard work in and out of the ring sculpted your body in ways you never dreamed.

Your heart didn't feel like it was on the verge of jumping out of your chest. The deep simmering hatred for your life that manifested in your deepest reaches like snakes slithering around each other had finally subsided.

The world was yours.

"Can you move?"

Your eyes refocused themselves on your surroundings.

The girls smushed by you near the dirty bathroom sinks looked annoyed. You'd been standing there staring away at yourself after washing your hands. You gripped the cold porcelain of the sink to keep yourself steady.

"Oh shit. My bad," You stumbled out of the crowded bathroom. The girls immediately pushed forward to take advantage of the newly freed up mirror real estate. The brightly colored lights in the club dragged around you, little tails following them like shooting stars. The tight dress you were wearing suddenly felt a little oppressive. It was cute when you'd put it on earlier in the night but after a few hours of drinking it felt like a straitjacket around you. Your eyes were marbles clacking around your skull. You scanned the dance floor and bar looking for a familiar face. With little warning besides a shadow looming over you, Kevin appeared behind you.

"I was wondering where you went."

"Got a little lost in the bathroom."

"Don't tell me you've had too much to drink." Kevin glanced down at his watch while he laughed at you. The hands on it glowed a soft neon green around the purple illumination that hung in the air. "It's only 12:45. Kinda early for you."

"I just need to sit down."

Kevin placed his hands on your shoulders and pushed you forward to the nearest barstool. You plopped down on it and laid your head in your hands. Somehow you managed to miss Kevin ordering two beers and widened your eyes in shock when one appeared in front of you. The condensation on the bottle cooled your overheated skin down. The bubbles popped warmly in your stomach.

"So you know Sting right?"

"Huh?" You'd swung your body around to face the dance floor. You couldn't help but to clench the beer bottle between both hands, using it like an anchor. If you spun around again to face Kevin you were pretty sure you were gonna float away like a balloon. The marbles knocked to the side of your face to catch him in your peripheral vision.

"Sting. Steve."

The image of him appeared in the forefront of your mind. His spiky bleach blonde hair and colorful face paint made you giggle. Wrestling is so ridiculous, you thought. Your inner voice sounded pretty smashed. You hoped you didn't sound like that out loud.

"I don't know him. Why?"

Kevin finished off the last swigs of his beer. He raised up his hand to summon the bartender again. This time a glass of clear fizzy liquid was placed in front of both of you. You slammed it down with instant regret. The gin burned your throat and the bitter, medicinal taste of the tonic made you heave slightly.

"Alright, that's the last one for you--" Kevin grabbed the glass and beer bottle away from you. The music had gotten even louder in the last few minutes. It thumped in your head, bouncing around with vigor. "Scott came up with an idea for him. He's dropping the surfer thing and he's gonna do his facepaint like Brandon Lee in The Crow."

You covered your mouth at a little burp that escaped. "Kinda morbid, huh?"

Kevin shrugged. "Maybe a little. But it'll be cool. We're leaving all the corny shit in the past now."

"He makes anything he touches lame. If Bischoff wanted to leave the corny shit behind, he'd get rid of Sting."

Kevin was getting tired of sighing at you all the time. For all the years he'd known you he could count on one hand the people you disliked. Usually you had a good reason for not liking them and he was on your side when it came down to problems or arguments. The few times Sting had been brought up around you though, your face twisted up. The subject would get changed when you'd made a cold comment about him. Sting stayed to himself and was a good worker. There wasn't even any opportunity to have a problem with him! Whatever your issue was with him, Kevin needed to fix it ASAP.

"Seriously, what's your issue with him?" Kevin looked at you with annoyance in his eyes. It was easier to get the truth out of you when you were this drunk. With the way you were slurring and the slow movement of your irises he knew you were pretty fucked up, but not as fucked up as you'd gotten in the past.

You took the chance and swung your body around to face your friend. Luck was on your side since you didn't immediately vomit all over him.

"I think he's a jerk."

"Yeah, I can fuckin' see that. You don't even know him that well! How could you think he's a jerk?"

"I just have a feeling he thinks he's a big shot. Bischoff hasn't been able to stop talking about him and it's driving me up the wall. 'Sting, Sting, Sting!' What about us, man?"

Kevin couldn't help but to laugh at your misplaced anger. You never could see the bigger picture in life. "Sting doing this new gimmick is good for us. It's gonna be great. You thought we were on the moon now? Just wait until next week, we'll be in the damn stars. Don't be such a mark for yourself. He needs us just as much as we need him." Kevin grabbed your arms and shook you playfully.

"Shake me again and I'll throw up right in your hair."

A big laugh left Kevin's lips as he helped you down from the stool. Thank God you had a day to recover from the inevitable crazy hangover you'd have in the morning. The cool air of the night hit your face abruptly. After being stuck in the sweaty club for what felt like hours you were grateful for the rush of wind blowing your hair around you. You felt grounded to the Earth again. Maybe Kevin was right. Sting was probably a nice enough guy. It'd be better if you all got along for the sake of the show. The drunk part of yourself hated when you got rational. It was such a buzzkill!

A cab pulled up in front of both of you. Kevin opened the door up for you, then pushed you gently down into the seat. You looked up at him with bewilderment as he told the driver what hotel you were staying at.

"What the hell man, aren't the rest of yall coming back too?"

"You drank as much as me and you're a foot and a half shorter, almost 150 pounds lighter. You need to take your ass back to the hotel and sleep it off so you don't act like an asshole tomorrow. We've gotta go to the gym and I need you up and ready for it."

"Booo! Booo, Kev!" You gave him a limp thumbs down as he closed the cab door. He was right and that was annoying. The cab pulled away with a jerk leaving Kevin to watch it turn into nothing but a little yellow dot in the distance.

[tothedarkdarkseas]

Unfinished WIP

Hi all. So a while back I had plans for a fic comprised of standalone scenes strung together, akin to Ampersands a bit, taking place across different months and years. It was “a history of Murdoc in knickers,” or a look at how his relationship to wearing knickers (and gendered clothing overall) began, and his tumultuous inter-band relationships seen through that lens, before and including Stu.

At this point, it seems unlikely I’ll ever go back and finish it. I’m sorry for that, I wish I could keep the motivation and momentum going, but... barring an exciting comeback phase with Gorillaz that makes this content feel a bit more relevant, I just can’t help but imagine we’ve reached the end of something.

I’ve still got a little flame in my heart so I’m not exactly putting it out to pasture, but I thought, in case it never happens-- maybe you might like the beginning? Alright, enough chatter, sorry this is clunky and unedited!

--

1.

The first time is a joke. There’s halogen heat on his skin, and gin-rancid men shouting slurs from the edge of frame, and a paste of speed and sweat under the nail on his waving middle finger. The stage is small, it’s nothing, it’s a treestump in swampland swallowing schoolboys’ shoes and breeding tetanus in return, but it doesn’t feel it. In satin he feels like he’s finding the sun.

He’s wearing knickers. And it’s a joke.

The music scene in Stoke is incredibly dull and borderline incestuous, exchanging members from one drain-circling pub rock outfit to the next, every Gary and Marvin swapping caps and guitars until the lineup works its way back ‘round again. It’s enough thrill for them, the endless circling, but Murdoc isn’t compelled by a closed course. Thank fuck there are thousand-watt bulbs among the duds, sloe-eyed boys with teeth enough to push up front and smoke-smelling riot girls, all of them spitting sparks and catching onstage. It’s hell to know one, but a fire gives off light, at least.

He knows this better than most, because Murdoc catches like a tinderbox. Patchouli Clark had flamed out in miserable mockery, his comp tab revoked when it became clear he well outdrank the old cunts throwing bottles at the stage to stop his wailing. His voice is raw and tuneless, less Dylan and Waits than it is a peeling of metal from metal, a sort of aural demolition in progress. Having a habit makes it all the worse, words piling up behind the tongue scraping his gums; if he’s even brought his bass, his playing is erratic and stop-start, metered by the squeals of amp feedback. On a manic night, he splits the skin of his eyelid around the mic stand when he beckons an angry punter onstage and two more follow. There’s blood caked from his brow to the fold of his nostrils, so the air smells sickly of Buckfast and coins when they drag him out. His left eye never really matches the right again after.

Bullworker is the same, only it overlaps with another in between that he can’t even remember the name of. The writing is on the wall again. By now he knows the message well. Maybe it’s simpler when the poet is pretty, when they’re gold-throated and gracious. Maybe it’s the reason the stage was built.

The audience loves you, and you love them for loving you. Love that sees you cloaked in light. Love that never knows the dark.

The audience hates him. The kick is that he likes that, really. He didn’t walk to school with raw, red-sticky heels from his brother’s castoff shoes because people liked him; he didn’t break his nose, knuckles, two ribs and a collarbone before semester’s end because people liked him; he didn’t trade a darling yellow knapsack of stolen medication for a blanket and a spot by the radiator because people liked him. He’s here because he knows that having is born of taking. Murdoc has the audience– when he pulls the mic stand between his knees, presses it hard to his groin as he brays and feels another voyeur wince, he gets what he came for.