#clear acrylic tube

[donatellawritings]

Hola babe!! Wondering how rafe would react to reader walking around with a short skirt/dress and no panties 🤭

-🍒

let’s be clear, this little habit of yours was only allowed within the confines of tannyhill. you rarely slept with panties on, usually a silk nightgown or one of rafe’s sufficed — unless you were feeling doll-like and wanted to put on a show for your doting boyfriend, then you’d be dressed in the finest array of lingerie while you walked around the estate. but, today you’d tried on the new pastel yellow crochet dress that you’d bought from a small boutique on the mainland, and you hated how your panty line disgustingly clashed the figure hugging fabric. you absolutely hated visible panty-lines — they ruined your pretty outfits.

so, with a small huff, you slid your panties down your legs, allowing the flimsy underwear to pool at your pedicured feet, before smiling at the vastly improved appearance of the dress. the yellow clashed beautiful with your sunkissed glow, your swollen breasts pushed up just right against the crochet fabric, due to the tie-up halter neckline. with a satisfied grin now expanding on your swollen, faded dusty rose lips, you smoothed your delicate hands over the soft fabric, before you slid your feet into your beige chanel sling back heels, cutely pouting your lips in the mirror as you gently ran your pearlescent acrylic nails through your freshly blown out hair.

in your biased mind, unless you looked uncomfortably close, the meticulously designed fabric of your dress covered everything it needed to, so you figured it would be okay for you to simply not tell rafe about your lack of underwear. if you played it cool, maybe he would too? either way, you were dead set on debuting this outfit as you went out for a lunch date with rafe. your slinky heels clicked and clacked against the hardwood floor as you made your way downstairs.

“papi, are you ready to go?” you sang, grabbing ahold of your chanel wristlet, making sure that it was filled with your emergency lipglosses and face powder, a sweet hum leaving your lips as rafe’s arm slid around your waist, “hi, baby — quieres un besito? i haven’t put on my lipgloss yet” you asked, running your hand down the side of rafe’s handsomely structured face, before running your hand through his buzzed hair as you turned to face him.

rafe was quick to swing his arm around the back of your neck, wordlessly pulling you into a purposely sloppy kiss, his tongue messily sliding against yours as you let out a muffled squeal into the kiss. you could hear a breathy chuckle leave rafe’s lips as he hastily pulled away from you, his lips shiny as you rolled your eyes, knowing that some of your makeup would be smeared. “raafe, i just did my makeup,” you whined, letting out an annoyed huff as rafe wiped his lips with an amused smirk, his ringed fingers swiping at the corners of his mouth as he adjusted the collar of white white linen button-up.

“you asked me if i wanted a kiss, mama,” rafe reminded you, his eyes falling on how the crocheted fabric stuck your your every curve. you mumbled something incoherently as you pressed a powder puff to your face, a displeased pout on your now smeared lips. rafe shamelessly ogled at you, his eyes hanging low as they watched how your plushy ass jiggled with every subtle move you made. his spit-coated lips now ran dry as you stood in direct sunglight, the silhouette of your inner thighs and unclothed pussy coming into view as you bent over to grab your tube of glittery hot pink lipgloss that fell to the floor.

with a sarcastic laugh, rafe clears his throat, “uh, princess, m’gonna ask you a question and i want you to tell me the truth, okay?” rafe sighed, his cocked to the side as he watched you freeze in place, the fabric of your dress stretched against the curve of your ass as you craned your neck to look at rafe from your bent position.

your doe eyes widened in fear as your wispy eyelashes blinked, you were quick to stand up straight, your chin up as you watched rafe take a breath, “are you wearing any panties?” he questioned, his eyebrows raised and pink lips parted as he awaited you answer. your boyfriend didn’t miss how you shifted your weight to lean on your hips, your swollen lips parting as you nodded your head, earning an amused laugh from rafe as he crossed his arms over his firm chest, “y’sure? m’not gonna ask you again,” he warned, his voice a bit raspy as he adjusted the band of his rolex to sit comfortably snug around his wrist.

“noo, but it’s because it made my dress look weird,” you whined, your smeared lips pulled into a pout as you approached rafe, your arms snaking around his waist as he rolled his eyes at your lame excuse. “i’m serious, it looked so fucking ugly,” you sighed, batting your doll lashes at rafe who couldn’t help but laugh at how dramatic you were being over a stupid panty.

mimicking your pout, rafe gently grabbed ahold of your cheeks, mushing them together, before pressing a chaste kiss to your mushed lips, “poor baby doesn’t wanna her panties, huh” he teased, mocking your whiny tone, earning a frustrated sigh from you. you could tell that he wasn’t sold on your reasoning and that in about ten seconds he was going to send you upstairs to change, “the thing is, i don’t wanna let your pretty pussy get all dirty, bein’ all out in the open like that,” he explained, his tone still disgustingly condescending as your doe eyes silently pleaded with him.

with an entitled roll of your eyes, you pulled away from rafe, childishly storming upstairs to your shared bedroom, leaving rafe to stand with his hands shoved in his pockets, “drop the fuckin’ attitude!” he called out, rolling his eyes as you wordlessly closed your bedroom door. “m’gonna fuck her up,” he mumbled to himself, letting out a strained sigh as he ran his large hands over his shaven face.

ꪆৎ

you were a spoiled little princess, eager to annoy rafe just because you didn’t get your way. you’d swapped your yellow dress for a crème colored mini knit dress, the swells of your cute tits on full display as you bent over to grab your purse that accidentally fallen on the ground, your lacy thong sucked in by the soft fat of your ass cheeks that were on full display as you stopped suddenly in front of rafe. with an annoyed grunt, rafe grabbed your arm, swiftly pulling you to stand straight as he reached down to grab your purse.

pulling down the hem of your ridiculously mini dress with his fingers, rafe shoved your purse into your small hand, before nudging your chin with the side of his ringed finger, “cut it the fuck out, y’being a fuckin’ brat,” he whispered into you ear as you shrugged carelessly, your glossed lips twisting into an annoyed frown as you exhaled sharply through your nose.

hastily pulling you closer to his chest, rafe pointed a finger at you, “i don’t know what the fuck is with you getting a fuckin’ attitude when you don’t get what you want, but you’re my girl, and m’not gonna have my fuckin’ girl walking around showing everything she’s got,” he scolded, his hand roughly squeezing your jaw as he forced you to keep your wandering gaze on him, “if y’don’t like that, then go be with one of those fucking pogues wouldn’t give a fuck about you and what happens to you,” he adds, the vein in his neck strained as your eyes welled with guilty tears.

“i don’t want them, i want you,” you blinked your tears away.

roughly releasing your jaw from his tight grip, rafe sends you a chilling look of warning, “then fuckin’ act like it,” he mutters, moving his sunglasses to cover his bright blues as he grabs your hand, leading you into the restaurant. his jaw tight as he walked aimlessly, eyes blown with frustration as you slowed down to a stop, tugging on your boyfriend’s arm. “what?” he snapped, his anger gradually dissipating as you rushed into his arms, your chin leaning into his heaving chest.

“i’m your girl, papi, only yours,” you batted your wispy lashes up at rafe, pushing yourself onto the tips of your toes. rafe forced himself to appear stoic as you kissed his lips, a troublesome smile pulling on your pouty lips, as you brought your mouth to his ear, “i think i just need you to fuck me, rafey,” you knowingly sighed, scratching your nails against rafe’s clothed abdomen, a giggle leaving your throat as he sighed in defeat.

that was all rafe needed to hear, before he began to pull you in the opposite direction of the restaurant, a yelp leaving your lips as he suddenly lifted you by your legs, hauling you over his shoulder as he eagerly made his way towards the backseat of his pickup truck.

you always knew how to get back in rafe’s good graces.

[bumblesimagines]

“ you're just a rebound. nothing more, nothing less. “

“ wasn't really under the impression you thought of me that way. “

maddy perez

“ you're just a rebound. nothing more, nothing less. “

“ wasn't really under the impression you thought of me that way. “

pronouns:

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea, you know." A voice you once claimed to loathe cut through the air, bordering on accusatory. You turned your head away from the open window, a cigarette pinched between your fingers. She hated the smell, always complained about it lingering afterward but always invited you back to her place when her mom worked late. 

"Wrong idea about what?" You asked and tilted your head toward the window, exhaling the cloud of smoke and pressing the end of the cigarette against the windowsill before flicking it into the small trashcan tucked away in the corner of the room. Maddy remained in her spot in bed, silky sheets and comforter tugged up but barely covering her. She twirled a strand of black hair around her finger, the gemstone on one of her acrylics shimmering in the light.

"About this. About us. I don't want you to think this will ever get serious. You're just a rebound. nothing more, nothing less. I needed to forget about Nate." She spoke softly despite her icy words. Anyone else might've felt hurt or offended, even disappointed. And maybe you would've too if you had cared enough. The ends of your lips curled and you let out a breathless, husky chuckle that made her gaze jump over to you. 

"Ouch, Madeline, I thought we were becoming friends. Wasn't really under the impression you thought of me that way. But, if it helps with any guilt you feel, I never thought of you as anything other than a rebound too." Her brows knitted. Ever since you knew her, she'd always been overly confident and too sure of herself cause everyone chased after her. "Did you forget Jules and I broke up? Or, well, she dumped me for one junkie only to cheat on her with another junkie. Crazy how the world works, huh?"

"Rue's my friend, asshole. You shouldn't call her that. She's trying to get better." 

"The day Bennett genuinely tries to get clean will be the day pigs fly." You murmured, searching for your phone on her cluttered vanity table. Finally spotting it among the many lipstick tubes, you picked it up and checked for any messages before slipping it into your back pocket. Maddy huffed quietly but otherwise stayed silent on the topic of Rue. 

"You and I-"

"Are just hooking up, Madeline. There are no buts or what-ifs. I'm not catching feelings for you, not in a million years, so save yourself the heartache and let me know if you ever see me as anything else than a rebound." Her jaw clenched and she tilted her chin up challengingly as you picked up your hoodie from the floor and slipped it on.

"What makes you think I would ever catch feelings for you?"

"When we started we were pretty clear what this was, and now you start getting defensive. This isn't my first rodeo. How do you think Jules and I ended up together? She was fine at first then got jealous. You're following that pattern." Your skin still prickled at the thought of your ex and how dismissive she'd been during the breakup. You could only find solace in the fact she'd ended up cheating on the girl she'd dumped you for. 

"I'm not following anything."

"Whatever you say."

[dearly-somber]

body art | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. f2l, slow burn, eventual romance, eventual smut, mutual pining, fluff, university!au

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 2598

-> warnings. lots of touching (not inappropriate); sexual tension 🤡

-> a/n. Listened to Pictures by ECÂF for the entirety of this one and whoOo bOy 😮‍💨. The brain-juices were Flowing

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Mar. 4th, 2023 @ 20:07

-> fin. Sun., Jun. 23rd, 2024 @ 03:32

-> edited. Mon., Jun. 24th, 2024 @ 02:35

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

Sometimes, Jungkook feels like the biggest idiot on planet earth. Forgetting about a very important, fast-approaching project deadline happens to be one of those moments.

What sucks more than that is that he was tasked to do something in a medium far from what he usually does (oil pastel), but now that he has very little time to prepare, he also needs something that won’t take him more than 24 hours to complete.

He bites on his lip, pacing around the empty art studio with his hands on his hips. His buddy Eunwoo does a lot of body art, he thinks… he’s always said that it’s pretty snappy. Not that Eunwoo doesn’t spend time on his craft, just that the simpler pieces take significantly less time to do than anything else Jungkook’s tried (with the added benefit of being in a medium wholly different to his go-to).

If he can pull this off, Jungkook will be one step closer to passing his midterm.

“Aish, fuck it,” he mutters, striding across the room to the dirty white plastic table stacked with his art supplies, picking up his phone with a concentrated furrow in his brow as he dials Y/N’s number from his Favorites list before bringing his phone up to his ear, anxiously chewing on his thumb.

She picks up on the fourth ring. “Kook-ah?”

“Y/N.” He automatically smiles at the sound of her voice. “Hey,” he sighs, “sorry for calling you so late—“

“Not at all, Kook. What’s up?”

“Are you busy right now?”

“No…?” She pauses a moment. “Why? Did you need something?”

Jungkook sighs into the other line, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah... Can you come to the studio?”

“The one on-campus?”

“어…”

“Sure. I’ll be there in five.”

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕

“What haven’t you done?” Y/N asks as soon as she steps through the threshold, a teasing smile on her lips.

She throws a plastic bag filled with snacks beneath the table, the plastic inside crinkling on impact as she takes a seat on top.

“A project,” Jungkook laughs, hoping she doesn’t hear its nervous crack.

“How much’s it worth?”

“Like… half my grade.”

“Jungkook—“

“I know. I know, I’m sorry.”

She laughs, not unkindly. “What’re you apologizing to me for? It’s your grade.”

“I know,” he mumbles, running his palm over his face with a sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t like disappointing people.”

He looks at her with a pitiful smile. “You especially…”

Y/N’s brows furrow as she hops off the table to hold his hands, coaxing his gaze up with an encouraging tug. “I’m not disappointed, Kook.”

He nods noncommittally, tonguing at his lip ring while staring at their intertwined hands instead of her soft smile.

“What can I do to help?” she asks then, running her thumb over the back of his tattooed hand.

“Actually,” he sighs, “that’s why I called you.”

“Oh?” she asks, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Jungkook clears his throat and lets go of Y/N’s hands to show her the large tubes of acrylic paint he stole from Eunwoo’s work station. “I was hoping you’d model for me.”

Y/N’s eyes widen to the size of saucers, her lips parting in a surprised o-shape that makes Jungkook’s heart flutter. “M-model? For you?”

He smiles. “Yeah,” he says, “for me. You know how Eunwoo does body art?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I needed to do something different for this project, and body art seemed like it’d be the fastest and most efficient option, so…” He laughs awkwardly, tapping the tube of yellow paint against his thigh. “Here we are.”

“Doesn’t Eunwoo usually hire models?” Y/N asks.

“Well, yeah, but…” Jungkook shrugs. “I figured you’d be willing to help a guy out.”

Y/N snorts, rolling her eyes with a growing smirk that makes Jungkook’s stomach twist. “You’re lucky you’re right, Wolfie.”

He scrunches his nose at the nickname, nevertheless feeling a massive weight lift off his shoulders when Y/N giggles and punches him in the arm, walking to the centre of the room with a happy smile.

“How do we do this?” she asks.

Jungkook hums thoughtfully, imagining how he’ll transfer the rough sketch he came up with while waiting for Y/N to arrive from the scrappy piece of paper he’d had lying around onto her skin.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he mumbles distractedly, sucking air in through his teeth as he finally settles on going greyscale, lining up the handful of paint tubes from lightest to darkest, turning to the side to grab different sized brushes and a plastic cup of water. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Obviously,” Y/N says, smiling at him when he turns around to give her a deadpan look. “Can I help?” she then asks, standing over his shoulder.

“Uhh…” He turns to her, suppressing his urge to scent her and instead wracks his brain for something for her to do. “Oh! Why don’t you get some of that plastic covering there against the wall and lay it down on the floor for me?”

“Where?” She eagerly grabs a clean roll and struts determinedly to the middle of Jungkook’s work area. “In the middle?”

“Yeah, there’s fine.”

“Why on the floor though? Also, does it matter? The floor’s just as paint-ridden as every other surface in this room.” Y/N laughs as she smooths the plastic crinkles out, ensuring it’s flat against the floor.

“It’s so you don’t get dirty,” Jungkook mutters, squeezing small amounts of paint onto his palette before grabbing his brushes and making his way over to where Y/N is now standing confused in the middle of the room.

“What do you mean?” she asks suspiciously, watching as Jungkook slowly crouches to put down the brushes and palette before going back to the desk to grab his water and set it down alongside his other tools.

“You’ll have to lay down on your stomach,” he says, laughing at the deadpan look she gives him. “What can I say? Your back is the perfect substitute for a canvas.”

Y/N sighs dramatically, getting down on her hands and knees with an old-man groan that makes Jungkook grin.

When Y/N sits back on her haunches and turns to look at him with a slight furrow in her brow, his grin dilutes only a little bit. “What is it?”

“I need to take my shirt off, don’t I?”

Well, shit.

“Uh…” Jungkook, also on his haunches, feels like an idiot as he gapes at her, trying to wrap his head around his current situation. “Well, yeah.”

He has to internally yell at his wolf to shut the fuck up. “You’ll have to take off your bra, too.”

Y/N’s eyes widen, and Jungkook hastily backtracks. “The strap’s gonna get in the way of the painting,” he explains, “so unless you’re fine with me painting over it…”

She bites down on her lip, nervously fiddling with her fingers in a way that makes Jungkook frown. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Y/N. If you’re uncomfortable I can just paint over your shirt—“

She pulls a scandalized face. “No! This is my, like” —she tugs at the hem of her shirt, looking down at the Harley Quinn illustration with a furrow in her brow— “second favorite shirt.”

“Which one’s your favorite?” he asks, a little confused.

“The one with your face on it,” Y/N says with an evil grin, cackling when Jungkook deadpans at her.

Of course she’d like that one.

“Seriously though. You don’t have to,” Jungkook reassures her again, his palms flat against his thighs.

Y/N searches his face for a second before shaking her head. “It’s okay,” she says. “I can do it.”

Jungkook checks her face for any sign of hesitation before he nods and turns his head to the side, last-minute turning back to stop her. “Here.”

He tugs his shirt off and lays it down in front of her, spreading it a little before sitting back again. He clears his throat at the way Y/N’s eyes roam over his body, heat crawling up his back at the sensation.

“So you can lay down on it,” he explains hoarsely, clearing his throat again as he turns away, squeezing his eyes shut.

She whispers a thank you under her breath, the room turning dead-silent as Jungkook’s ears hone in on the sound of rustling fabric and a bra-clip being unhooked.

“‘M done, Kook-ah.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, praying to whatever god is out there to help him be normal about this in ways he knows he’d be otherwise incapable of.

The moment he opens his eyes, all thought of normality flies out his brain like someone opened it up, called it empty and yeeted it across the room.

Y/N’s back is strangely ethereal.

Prominent shoulder blades guide his eyes down her spine, his eyes drinking in the valley of smooth skin like a starved animal.

The only thing that snaps him out of it is the sudden and very intense urge to lick her. (He blames his wolf and refuses to take accountability.)

Shaking his head on right, Jungkook hurries to shuffle closer, his legs tingling from disuse.

“So…” Y/N starts, clearly trying to fill the silence. “What are you painting?”

Jungkook laughs a little, grabbing the thickest brush he has and lathering it in titanium white, shifting close enough for his knees to touch Y/N’s sides. “I dunno if I should tell you.”

“What?” she whines. “Why?”

“Because you’ll make fun of me,” he says pettily, whispering a warning under his breath before setting the tip of his brush to her skin.

Y/N gasps at the sudden cold. Jungkook watches her with a tiny smile, waiting for her to relax her shoulders before he continues lathering paint on in the faint shape of a box.

“Just tell me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Jungkook~” she whines, pulling a laugh from his throat with barely any effort at all.

He snickers as he shakes his head, finishing up the background before swirling the brush around in his water, grabbing a separate, thinner brush and dipping it in a blob of wet concrete-grey paint. “I’m drawing us.”

“Aww,” she squeals, giggling when Jungkook over dramatically sighs at her antics. “That’s super cute and all, Kook, but aren’t you supposed to be doing something different? You draw portraits of us all the time.”

“I know,” he says, tongue sticking concentratedly out the corner of his mouth. “That’s why I’m drawing us as animals.”

She gasps loudly. “Really!? Are you finally doing another Wolf-Y/N drawing?”

“I should keep that in mind for next time,” he chuckles. “But no, I’m making you a rabbit.”

“Of course you are,” she whispers, though Jungkook can’t help but think he hears a note of fondness in her voice. “So, what? You’re the big bad wolf, then?”

“Since when was I bad?” Jungkook scoffs.

“I dunno. Since you started slacking on your school work.”

“It’s one time!”

“It’s worth half your grade!”

Jungkook pouts, humphing. “Whatever. It’s a cute painting.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. My wolf’s tail’s all curled up ‘round you… you’re all sleepy, ‘n’ stuff,” he mumbles.

Jungkook swears he hears a smile in Y/N’s voice as she says, “That is pretty cute.”

“Yeah…”

Their conversation trails off as Jungkook focuses on his work, gradually laying out the groundwork for the line art.

When he finally starts working on it, though, he mumbles a short apology before swinging a leg over Y/N’s ass, straddling her lower back so he’s centered.

“You okay?” he asks, trying to keep his weight off her back.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.”

“Don’t need a break?”

“I’m fine, Kook. You can keep going.”

Jungkook clears his throat, mentally swatting the dirty thoughts away as he leans down to start on the line art, using his wrist to keep his hand steady as he uses his arm to keep his lines smooth and at an even thickness level.

“Would you have gotten someone else?”

“What?” Jungkook asks, leaning back to get a better view of his piece, but also to try and shake off the feeling of your skin on his palm.

“If I said I couldn’t make it, would you have gotten someone else to model for you?” Y/N asks, trying (and failing) to keep her voice neutral and nonchalant.

“No,” he says. “I don’t think I would have.”

“Why not?” she whispers, her heart beating a little louder in her chest.

Jungkook shrugs even though she can’t see. “I dunno. This feels too… intimate, to do with anyone else,” he admits, leaning back down to finish up the bunny’s line work so he can move on to the smaller details.

She hums softly, the vibration tangible against Jungkook’s hand. He’s been so hyper-focused on every little feel, he barely has time to register what he’s doing before he finds himself with his nose pressed to the back of Y/N’s neck.

“Kook-ah?” she whispers, a shiver running down her spine as Jungkook huffs out against her skin, hot all over and a little dizzy.

“Sorry, bunny,” he mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut. “You smell nice.”

She giggles, and Jungkook relishes in the wave of oxytocin that blasts him right in the face.

“You know, sometimes it’s like you can’t go thirty minutes without doing something to remind me you’re part dog.”

“I’m not a dog,” Jungkook grumbles, unaware of the slight growl in his voice as he takes another whiff of Y/N’s scent, letting it wash over him.

She shivers again, and that seems to be adequate enough for his wolf to let Jungkook pull away again. He mumbles an apology as he brushes her hair over her shoulder, sitting up straight and taking a moment to breathe deeply.

“You smell nice too, by the way.”

Jungkook laughs a little, wiping off a small smudge of paint as he finally stands to grab the digital camera he keeps for the moments when he wants to capture something he’s made for later review, wiping his paint-stained hands down on his pants.

“Is that so?” he teases lightly, telling Y/N to stay still as he stands over her, lining up the shot and taking a couple before he finally gives her the okay.

“You have a really nice smell,” she explains almost defensively, pulling her shirt back on while Jungkook’s back is to her. “You smell like… like rain, and that vanilla laundry detergent you like so much.”

She bends to grab and then throw Jungkook’s shirt at him, smiling as he leans back against the table with a smile of his own.

“I’m glad you think it’s nice,” he says, not bothering to hide the smugness to his tone but hoping she can’t tell with some kind of best friend magic that her liking the way he smells can also be interpreted as a (as she would call it,) “wolfy” thing.

Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, he drills to himself.

“Whatever. You took pictures?” She stands next to him.

“Mm. I’ll give you a copy once I get them printed.”

She smiles. “Thanks.”

“‘Course, bunny.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N stands on the tips of her toes to wrap an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders, guiding him out the door with a strength and determination that surprises him.

“Now,” she says, “let’s get fucked. I know a great place like, down the road from here.”

<- prev | next ->

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 12

WC:1376, Masterpost

“Danny, come on,” Wally said, laughter clear in his voice. “There will be time to stare at the stars after.”

“But Flash, space,” Danny said with what he would readily admit as a whine as he motioned to the expansive view of space with earth floating in the bottom of the window. Danny didn’t know if the Zeta tube had been exactly worth the trip (he had nearly had a panic attack), but the view made a pretty compelling argument. The urge to go intangible and phase through the acrylic to be in space was so strong that Danny didn't even dare touch the window.

“But your meeting, Danny. Flash is going to be waiting for you, and you how how us Flashes get.”

Danny sighed but turned away from the window with one lingering look.

“Go and be great. After we can stare at space some and, maybe… if you’re up to it, meet some of my friends?”

“Like the infamous Nightwing?”

“Shush,” Wally said, placing a finger to his lips. “He’s like Beetlejuice, you might summon him just by saying his name.”

“Pretty sure you need to do that three times,” Danny pointed out, following Wally to the door.

“Oh yeah? You up on ghost lore?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m an expert,” Danny said dryly. If only Wally knew.

(Well, then Danny would be dead.)

“We can watch it next date night. Right now, you go be awesome, hero.”

“Flash, you really cannot call me a hero when we’re in the Justice League base.”

“Can and will, now go, hero,” Wally said, shooing Danny down the hall to where Barry was waiting.

“Gonna give me any hints about what’s going on?” Danny asked the older Flash once they had started walking.

“Just to be yourself,” Barry said. “You’re a good person and you know what you’re doing out there in the field. I wouldn’t’ve recommended you for this otherwise. And I meant what I said, your ability to take no crap is part of why I did. You don’t have to take any crap from anyone in there either, no matter who they are.”

Who they were turned out to be many of the founding members: Batman, Wonder Woman, Superman, and of course Flash… Flash who really thought too highly of him. (What was with the Flashes doing that?)

There were also three other people not dressed in supersuits, who Danny figured were there for the same reason he was. Whatever that was.

“Flash,” Superman said with a nod to the hero and then a smile to Danny. “And you must be Mr. Fenton.”

“Just Danny is fine, thank you for the invitation,” Danny said, shaking Superman’s hand, continually reminding himself not to use any of his strength all the while.

“Of course, have a seat. We’re just waiting on… well, never mind,” Superman said cheerfully as the Martian Manhunter swept into the room. (Danny help back the excite squeak he wanted to make.) “J’onn.”

“Superman. Am I late?”

“Just on time. We can go ahead and get started.”

Everyone settled around the table, the normal people waiting for the heroes to take their preferred seats before settling together on the other side over the oval table.

“Thank you all for coming here today,” Wonder Woman said with a warm smile. “As you know, we’ve asked you here today based on your capabilities. Specifically, to help us build an emergency response team that can act in aid of crises the Justice League responds to.”

“We’ve already been doing this in some places at the city level,” Barry said, leaning forward. His hands were clasped on the table. Danny knew from experience that it was just so that he didn’t fidget from having to sit still. “Central City has been operating with our own set up for two years now and we’ve seen huge success in both lives saved, but also a bigger level of overall personal safety during attacks. People are getting out of the way faster, safer, and more often than before.”

“So we’re looking to do the same thing on a bigger level and we’d like your advice,” Superman said. “Right now, you’re here as consultants and will be paid for your time. Assuming we all work well together, you’ll have a chance to sign on once things are officially underway.”

Danny raised his hand.

“You can just talk, Danny, this isn’t school,” Flash said.

Danny felt a blush crawl up his cheeks and sat up straighter, stylus tapping nervously against his tablet. “I know this is putting the cart before the horse, but you can’t need us all the time. If we choose to sign up, will we still be able to work our current jobs? I don’t want to abandon Central. I mean, not that they can’t do without me, I have great coworkers, but it’s… you know, home.”

“A noble want,” Wonder Woman said. “The reality of it would depend on the level of administration work you are in charge of, but no. You should be able to continue working in Central and be on call for other emergencies, or that is our assumption. You all are the experts, though, which is why you are here. Perhaps introductions are in order?”

“Brent Green,” the one furthest from Danny cut in without hesitation. He was the most formally dressed of all of them, suit jacket and all, and had that air of superiority that made Danny want to bristle. “Director of Star City’s emergency response team.”

“Debra Day,” the woman next to Danny said next. There was a southern twang to her words. “Thirty years of search and rescue experience, ex Coast Guard, currently focused on instruction.”

“Leo Klein, they/them,” the last said. “Emergency management and prevention training.”

“Danny Fenton.” He felt out of place compared to all the other skill sets. “Team lead and field medic in Central City.”

“And I’m sure you know us,” Superman said with a chuckle. “Now, what are your thoughts.”

“First we have to establish a system of hierarchy and devision of labor,” Brent said, once again jumping in before anyone else. “It is important to know who has right away in the field.”

Danny resisted the urge to raise his hand again and took the chance of Brent pausing to speak. “Those are all good thoughts, but you’re getting ahead of things. Cities and countries will already have established teams, even if it’s just police and fire fighters. Are you all wanting us to come in and work with them? Ahead of them? Under their leadership? When we started in Central there were a lot of accidental hurts because the two sides didn’t sit down and talk enough at first, and this is on an even bigger scale.”

“He’s right,” Debra said. “The National Guard could be a good model both for the US, but also for any other nations you might want to explore into to see how things are handled there.”

“And you’ll need to get started on PR right away no matter the choice,” Leo said, leaning forward ad engaging now. “Like Danny said, it’s easy to step on toes and we don’t want to do any of that.”

Brent was frowning, slightly, then sighed and nodded. His shoulders relaxed a little. “No, good points. PR for the citizens too, to know to look out for us. We could get feed back on what worked in the cities with teams set up.”

“And places that have seen attacks outside of there. It’s easy to focus on big cities, but smaller towns and rural areas still can see attacks and have different needs,” Danny added to considering nods.

Now that they were all working together, Danny felt himself relaxing too. There were a lot of nerves for most people to get over working with heroes, Danny guess. Even he wasn’t immune to caliber of people that they were in the room with and he ate dinner with the one at least once a month.

Also Batman seemed to be watching him.

Well, whatever, talk was flowing easily now. They’d get their feet under them. They’d have to if they wanted this to work.

-----

AN: And some food for all of you here too! Danny learns why he's at the Watchtower! And manages to not be too distracted by space- a true accomplishment.

Sorry if there are more issues than normal, my letter swapping/word salad has been a bit bad lately. And I've really messed up my one finger ;-;

But anyways! Slower part but next chapter.... nightwing. Dundundun Stay delightful, darlings!

I no longer tag, but you can subscribe to the master post!

[caxde]

still live | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary you and Eddie have been friends for ever, but have chosen to keep your feelings quiet, until a single afternoon changes it all. (2.7k)

warnings fem!reader, fluff (like a lot of it) hurt/comfort, friends in love, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn friends to lovers, idiots in love!!!, english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read! 

-

It had never been a question. 

You had started painting even before you learned how to talk, your house was always messy and stained because of you. As you grew up, stained carpet floors turned into stained old clothes, paint splattered all around your wardrobe, and a burning passion was developed. 

So, of course, when the dreaded question of what are you going to do after high school started going around, your answer had always been the same ‘art school’. 

But anxiety and stress were getting to you, you had been working hard on your portfolio, barely sleeping, painting canvases that were bigger than you, held by reclining it against your bedroom wall, and working in sketches nonstop, not even in the middle of class. 

He would tease you, everytime he heard the pencil scratch against the yellowish paper. He always does the same thing, he starts watching quietly, admiring the way your fingers hold the pencil ever so delicately, the way your eyes follow the grey stain so closely, concentration evident on your expression, and your hair messing your face when you look down.  When he couldn’t hold it any longer, a soft smile curves the end of his lips, as he brings his body closer to yours, and he always whispers, his voice always sweet and soft when he calls your name to get your attention. 

And he chuckles everytime you jump out of concentration as you breathe out his name. 

But today was different. 

Eddie knows you, better than anyone for that matter, and he also knows that you had been a little too stressed about it all. He knew you needed quiet company while you worked, so he asked you to come finish your last one over to his house. 

He had made his room tidier, in his own way. He cleared the floor, no dirty clothes could be seen, and the table was what he would charmingly call an “organized mess”, little piles of things in a neat position, a clean composition. Window open and clean air coming in, with a space under it so the smell of the acrylic paint can leave as fast as it comes. 

“You moved the bed.” You let out as soon as you step inside his room, looking at the open window. 

“You need to paint.” He answers, as he shrugs, trying not to give it that much meaning, even if he feels his pulse quickening as you smile grows deeper. 

“Thank you.” 

“No problem.” He answers quickly, really trying to not hyperfixate in the way your smile is caused by him, or the way it seems to illuminate the room a bit more. 

You laid the canvas against the wall, and started organizing your paint tubes in your particular way. Black, blue, red, yellow and white. The other fancy special colours away from them, the lilac, teal and silver pulled apart. 

He knew you needed your space, just as much as he knew you appreciated the quiet companionship. 

It was nice, being in the same room as him, not feeling alone, and knowing that he’ll be here when you inevitably feel tired or burned out and need a little push. 

And you liked feeling him look closely at you. Though you think he’s looking at the way the thin light blue haze is staining the pristine white of the canvas, he’s actually looking at the way your oversized, full-of-various-faded-splatters-of-paint shirt is hanging from you, the way it wraps on your waist, and the way your hair is falling down your back, your face tilted, only makes him more nervous, and in a way, realize even more that he wouldn’t do this for just anyone, so he might as well admit to himself that he does have some feelings for you. 

He played music on his guitar, quietly, and smiled deeply at the sound of you muttering the worlds of the songs he always chooses absentmindedly. Even if he only plays Bowie when you’re around. 

You're obvious to it all. You only focus on the way your hand won’t stop shaking, and you’re not even sure why, so the frustration is starting again, and with it so does the headache. You need to finish the stupid sketch so you can actually start painting, but your hand won’t stop shaking and you don’t even have a good enough reference. You’ve stopped singing and are instead biting your lip, an anxious tic that Eddie knows a bit too well. 

He doesn’t say anything, instead he stops playing, goes to the kitchen and brings two cups of tea. 

He decides to sit down beside you, and instead of startling you as he normally does, he instead leaves a soft touch on the small of your back, his fingers feeling the beginning of your jeans through your shirt. The familiar warmth left in both of your bodies. 

“Here” He whispers, a bit too close to your ear. 

You turn to him, realizing that he’s never been as close, that now you could if you wanted and had the time to count every single one of his eyelashes, and that his lips look pinker than ever. And in that moment, something seems to click, a warmth awakens in the inside of your chest, and you move a bit far away instinct kicking in. 

“Thanks” You whisper back, blood travelling fast to your cheeks as your fingers touch his for a moment, grabbing your tea. 

“So, what’s wrong?” He chooses his words carefully, his tone softer, his voice quieter. He raises his eyebrow in concern, making you frown for just a second. 

“It’s all wrong.” You whisper, in anxious shame, nervously, avoiding his eyes. 

“What do you mean it's all wrong?” He echoes your voice, not really following your train of thought. 

“It’s all wrong Eddie.” Your voice is stronger now, more impatient. But still barely above a whisper, it felt stupid to speak at a normal volume when he’s so close to you. “ The proportions are awful, the reference is shit, and I can’t start painting until I finish the stupid sketch but I can’t manage to finish it.” You’re trying your hardest to not stumble over your own words, it’s complicated, frustration getting the best of you, making your voice shake as you can feel the small tear threatening to form on the verge of your eyes. 

“Hey…” He whispers once more, the hand he had on your lower back petting you once again, trying to get you to calm down for a second. “Step by step, yeah?” He watches you nod at his question, and he waits for you to take a deep breath. “What can you do to fix it?” 

“I need to restart it all.” You answer in defeat, you were tired, and with a clear idea in mind that didn’t seem to transform as well as you wanted to. 

“Okay, so restart it, what can I do to help?” 

“Nothing really.” You add, looking back at him for once. You're captivated by him for a moment. The way his curls frame his face makes you really want to put the little flyaway away from his complexion, touch his pale face for a second, but instead, you hold the cup harder, your knuckles turning white. 

“What’s wrong with the reference?” He asks, trying to refocus you, snatching the photograph off the floor. A blurry image that’s barely recognizable, a kiss between two people that you don’t know. 

“It’s shit.” You admit, hiding a chuckle. “ I found it on the floor of The Hideout and thought that a kiss scene would be the perfect ending for my project, but… I’m not… I don’t know” You admit, defeated, tired, and anxious about you having to start the whole project again. 

“Why a kiss?” He asks, innocence in his tone. He tries to hide his curiosity with that Eddie grin, that stupid grin that makes you smile in return even if you're not aware of it. 

“I…” You look at him for a moment. Stopping at his lips for a second, and this time it doesn’t escape you that he does the same. “It’s about melancholy. The whole thing. Situations that have happened and you miss, and the ones that haven’t but you wish they did… Love… I wish it happened to me but… Yeah” You stop talking, as you feel his eyes not leave yours, it’s stupid, but talking about this in this space, for some reason is making your heart beat faster, and wherever your body touches his, it tingles, electricity flying between both of you. 

“You haven’t been in love?” The question took you out, it didn’t make sense for Eddie to ask this. It doesn’t fit the way he has always acted around you, but in a weird way, when you look back at him, and see the way his eyes look softer, kinder. 

You always saw Eddie repel the idea of love, avoiding it at all costs, so it was weird seeing him like that, like he was hopeful for an answer, as he wanted to tell you how he started feeling, he also knew he would never dare to tell you such a thing. Much too proud, much too careful. 

“I have. But, they don’t love me back.” You mutter, not ready to voice it fully. Not sure if this is the best time to say, yes, Eddie, I have been in love, I’ve been in love with you for ages. 

Because, even now, you’re slowly realising that what you’ve been feeling for him is love. 

“I understand.” He mutters, his sight leaving you for the first time, looking down at the photo, while he yells to himself, his brain is telling him to not do anything stupid, while his whole heart and body are begging for him to tell you that he could learn how to love you if you let him. 

For fucks sake, he tells himself, he cares so much about you, he wants you to be happy and loved and cared for so much it pains him a bit not knowing what to do to help. He slowly lifts his head up.

Coincidence, destiny or just dumb luck, he makes eye contact with his old, beaten up Polaroid and a stupid idea, oh so stupid crosses his mind, and he narrows his eyes. 

You notice. 

And before you can stop yourself you're asking him a soft and questionable “What?” that leaves him looking back at you. 

“We could take a picture.” He states, blankly looking back at the camera. A nervous smile that makes his eyes shine. 

“What picture?” You’re left even more confused, following his glance. 

“A kissing picture.” He says. Your body frozen, heart skipping a beat. Eddie’s does the same, amazed at himself for actually having said such a stupid thing. “Just so you have an actual reference… I just… Wanna help.” He’s now avoiding your sight, embarrassed about his idea, he begins to get flustered, and the only thing he can get himself to do now is stare at the floor. 

You need a second. 

A moment. 

Silence fills the room, as the only thing you can feel is the beating of your own heart, loud in your eardrums, a rhythmic rhythm that begs kissme kissme kissme. 

So, once again, it wasn’t even a question. 

“Who’s taking it?” You answer, sweet quiet voice. Your eyes also set on the floor, as you can feel your cheeks burning. Anticipation forming in the air. 

“I’ll do it.” He answers, his smile bigger than ever. As he stands up, you leave the cup on the floor, wiping your nervous hands on your jeans. One swipe, two, three. 

You’re left looking at him, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think that he was just as extremely excited and nervous as you are. And then it comes, the realisation of what was about to happen, he’s going to kiss you, and you’re going to kiss him. You’re about to do what you’ve been wanting to do for ages, all for some stupid excuse that you can’t be worried about. 

As he moves, gracefully, it all stops mattering for a brief moment. 

It doesn’t matter if the painting is good enough. 

It doesn’t matter if the admission committee thinks your work is good enough. 

It doesn’t matter if this complicates your friendship or not. 

He sits down beside you, a trembling hand pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his lips slightly parted, his eyes switching between your eyes and your lips. The electricity is tangible now, you almost feel like you could fill up jars with it, a weird anticipation, an excitement. A promise almost. 

“Are you ready?” He asks, his thumb gracing your lower lip, his breath so close to your lips you could actually drink it if you wanted to. He smells of vanilla and sandalwood.

“Yeah.”

Then it happens. 

Eddie kisses you, softly. 

A soft, sweet kiss is left on top of your lips, as you close your eyes and enjoy it, one of your hands travels slowly to the back of his neck, tentatively, you start playing with his hair. You see a flash, a bright light that makes you giggle, only brighter when you feel the way he’s also smiling. 

Eddie can’t stop kissing you. 

He’s delighted that he’s finally doing this. He doesn’t care that he can’t fully give in, somehow worried that the photo won’t turn out good, he takes a couple more. And then he finally gives in. One last touch, a small bite to your lower lip, and he gently pulls away. His forehead against yours. Catching his breath, you can feel the way your lips are left tingling now. How your heartbeat seems happier in a weird way, like something got fixed for a moment.

When Eddie opens his eyes, he can see that yours are still closed. And that your lips look pinker than before, that your cheeks are flushed and you’re breathing faster than usual. He smiles quietly to himself, and looks down, between your bodies, lays the camera and the polaroids spread around, proof that he didn’t imagine it all. Proof that he did just do it. 

He carefully bumps his forehead into yours, playfully almost. 

You open your eyes, looking down. 

He hands you one of the photographs, you can’t help but smile. 

“I don’t think I ever had such a beautiful photo” You whisper, as you’re taken back for an instance. You’re blooming with joy, an uncontrollable smile decorates your face. The shyness gone for this brief moment. 

“Me either.” Eddie adds as he holds another one. 

You’re both idiots. 

Happy idiots, unaware of each other's feelings, not knowing that it was more than a favour. 

“Thank you, Moon.” You tell him, as he blushes even harder. 

And he’s not sure if it was the eye contact, the way you look right now or the fact that you had just given him what might be his new favourite nickname. 

“Now, get back to work.” He teases, while he decides to lay down, resting on his forearms so he can still look at you. 

“Don’t distract me.” You add back, a flirty banter evident in the air now. 

“I won’t kiss you until you ask for it.” And in that moment it's clear, he’s being sincere. 

You can’t help but laugh, softly. And he can’t help himself, echoing your laugh. 

He doesn’t need to say anything, and neither do you. You just know that now he knows something more about you, you know that now that he’s tasted your lips he will be left craving for more, just as much as your craving for a new encounter. 

Eddie is left mesmerized, proud of you, seeing how now you’re determined to finish this painting, with a soft smile and quick brushstrokes. So, you spend the next afternoon painting, and stealing soft glances at him, as he just sits there, amazed by you, as he continues talking with you as if nothing has changed, as if his heart isn’t now all yours, even if you know as well as he does, that it is. 

[farter-imperator]

ministry breeding program swiss?

:)

Swiss prefers to have his cock milked rather than breeding into a dummy ghoul.

He likes to lay down on a comfy nest made by the tease, and lets his handler secure the toy over his cock. It looks like a fleshlight, and certainly feels like one to Swiss, but it has a tube running off of it to collect his come once it's available.

For his teases, he prefers male ghouls if he can get one. Preferably Rain. He's just... So wet. It really gets Swiss going when he sees how Rain squirts just from external stimulation by his handler, Cirrus.

Cirrus dons a pair of black latex gloves, tight to her skin. Makes a show of running her fingers through Rain's folds, then withdrawing and rubbing her forefinger and thumb together while humming in thought at the sight of the slick coating her fingers.

While Swiss watches, his hips thrust of their own accord, the toy around his cock squeezing and releasing at a tempo that he chose. It's been lubricated so much that it feels like Rain.

Rain mewls, keeps dropping his front half of his body and lifting his hips, his tail twitching high in the air, a clear sign of 'Mate me NOW.' but Swiss can't do anything about it. They're seperared by a clear acrylic half-wall, put in place to stop any ghouls from pouncing on their teases.

Swiss knows it's affecting Cirrus too. She's a strict handler, but Belial, Rain's scent permeates every inch of the room, along with the sounds of his insistent whimpers and whines. He watches as Cirrus grasps the bulge of her strap in her trouser leg, readjusts it a little. He sees her nose twitching, the flush she gets on her neck when she's aroused.

When Cirrus kneels to spread Rain with her fingers, this only encourages Swiss. He humps the air harder while staring at rain's hole, the way that it clenches and releases around nothing. Cirrus gently tickles his clit with the pad of her index finger, chuckling at the way he immediately squirts out more thick slick with a wanton whine.

The thing that really gets Swiss going, and he didn't realise that they were going to do this, is when another handler brings a large syringe full of come out to Cirrus. Was that his come? Aether's? Aurora's? What was Cirrus going to do with it?

Oh.

That's what she was going to do with it.

She kneels by Rain again, parts his lips with two fingers, and then slowly eases the syringe into him. Rain's sobbing with pleasure. It isn't even a toy, but just to be filled is enough for him.

Swiss is grinding into the nest at this point, up on his forearms and groaning through clenched teeth as Cirrus situates the syringe in Rain, then slowly presses down on the plunger.

Rain cries out in relief, his own hips jerking as the fresh ghoul come is implanted directly into his hungry womb. Slowly, his belly swells with the volume of it.

That's what tips Swiss over the edge. He grinds desperately, pressing a button on a nearby remote to speed up the clenching of the toy. His handler stands ready, waiting for the signs of his knot swelling.

It's the sight of Cirrus removing the syringe, followed by a big spurt of come dripping out of Rain, that pops his knot. His handler kneels and presses the toy down onto it, making Swiss grit his teeth. Soon after, his come starts flowing through the tubing, his eyes half lidded as he watches Cirrus press a plug into Rain.

[eleventhhourfactor]

Factor Builds a Poltergust!

Part One

Poltergust?! In my kitchen?! At this time of year?!!

More probable than you might think.

For those who didn't see this post a few days ago, I've been building a prop Poltergust. I've got a costume to go along with it, and both are at the point where I can step out to an event right now and feel proud of myself.

After I find fingerless gloves and give the vacuum tube a couple more coats of paint, of course.

So, how did I do it? Why should you care about a ghost vacuum that can't actually suck things up? Well, I'm about to tell you the process I've gone through this week to get this bad boy ready, because I did a decent job documenting my steps and I wasn't just about to not share something like this.

Ready?

Here we go!

Disclaimer

This is not a tutorial. I am not in the business of giving Poltergust workshops. This is just me documenting my process, which you're free to riff off of for your own uses, but this is in no way a step-by-step instructional. This is what I got after gleaning two walkthroughs online and distilling them into something my artsy ass can manage. If I tried to pass this off as a tutorial in real life, I'd probably get fired.

If you do reference this for your own purposes, make sure to wear gloves, put down cardboard and other protective coverings, and do your work in a well-ventilated area. It should go without saying, but do not let your pets into this shit.

With that being said, let's get into the base of this whole thing.

The Base

Not gonna lie, this whole idea started with a cat carrier. It's been with me for several moves now, and neither of my cats have taken to it. Needless to say, I was ready to give this thing purpose.

The carrier I have has a bubble in the front, several panels to zip and unzip, and appears to be made of some kind of leather. With this in mind, I prepared the surface for painting by using a deglazer. If you can't find any (or you run out early like I did), some strong isopropyl alcohol and a bit more elbow grease will also do the trick.

Next, I went with some leather acrylic paint. It went on nicely and dried quickly, so I did a couple of coats.

As you can see in the picture above, this carrier had a nice black trim to it that I wanted to preserve as much as possible—hence, drafter's tape. I also left the straps as is, since E. Gadd has a thing for leather straps on his devices.

After the paint was good and dry, I sprayed the whole thing a couple times over with a clear topcoat. I might've picked something semi-glossy (I really don't remember), but so long as it's clear and sprayable, it'll work.

I did get a little bit of topcoat on the bubble, but this really won't matter in the long run.

Panels and Wheels

Each Poltergust I've come across has a set of wheels or cylinders on the sides. Seeing as this was a consistent choice, I figured I'd cook something up to cover the side panels of my base.

Each wheel piece is based on a wooden circle (mine are about 6.5" in diameter). From there, I glued a smaller foam disc onto the center, and then covered each disc in gray foam for a smooth look.

While waiting for that to dry, I then took a triangular dowel of EVA foam and painted that black. One calculation for the circumference of the inner circle later, and I had the outer rims for these pieces. For error's sake, I rounded up.

End result?

Snazzy. Now to apply this and the other panels onto the base. I chose a thicker piece of black foam for the accent paneling, which also went under these circles. However, I didn't immediately glue all this on.

Instead, I went to work on some other doodads.

Doodads, part one

There are a number of holes on the cat carrier. They come in sets of three, are ringed with metal, and were probably intended to provide airflow to my spoiled little fur babies. For the Poltergust, though, these holes provided opportunities for additional decorations.

All of these holes were 1" in diameter, which made some of my choices awfully convenient.

First off: bottom three. These are the reason I held off on gluing the panels. I wanted to cap them and put some lights behind them. Some little jewelry organizers did the trick, and provided a nice serrated edge that I used many times in this build.

Now, this photo is a bit out of order. I got a bit impatient and glued the side panels and these things on before I did the topcoat. As a result, I sprayed them a bit. Again, I like to think this works out in the end.

At this point, I was ready to take my foam and do all sorts of measurements and shit to get it all to perfectly align. And then I realized...

Foam is impressionable, and these suckers are serrated.

With that, I pressed my front panel into the circles, carved out the holes, and was able to slide it on just like that.

From there, I eyeballed and trimmed it down before gluing. And I got the circles hooked up as well.

Doodads, part 2

I came across some black desk feet that, with some nuts and a piece of foam glued in for good measure, made for some nice button-looking things on the side panels. Because I needed to work on the tube, though, this won't get applied until closer to the end.

The Tube and the Tools

The bones are good, but what about the tube? The means by which a ghost goes from outside to within?

This, along with lights and other device pieces, required a trip to the hardware store. Believe it or not, I spent quite a bit of time in the plumbing section for this stuff. Kinda funny when you think about it.

Anyway, tube. I went with a drain and bilge tube/pipe thing because it was long and flexible—not to mention easily cuttable with a hacksaw. It's attached to the Poltergust with a metal closet rod support, which again, was about the diameter I needed.

All good, right? Wrong!

That tube wasn't just gonna go into the hole nice and neat. After getting the metal circle around the tube, I cut some slits into it to cheat my constraint, further forcing it in by applying sealant to the circle and clamping that shit down.

Hot glue is nowhere near strong enough for this part. Given that it's metal, on the most vertical slope, and is gonna get tugged around a bit, I opted for sealant. Please keep in mind this shit is strong, so let it cure outside.

Since the sealant takes a while to cure, we can pretend I got everything in one trip and get started on the flashlight attachment. I found this PVC pipe thing that had a slideout bit of pipe, and something about the way it felt in my hand screamed "comically big flashlight". With that, a bell drain cap thingie, a puck light, and some paint later, I had Luigi's flashlight, ready to screw in or change out with a nozzle (which isn't built as of posting. I'm tired and it's daunting and I want to go back to writing.)

But like, wow. I'm a bit screwed when the batteries die, but for this? This is beautiful. See that black bit at the bottom? That's meant to screw into the thing pictured below.

Which, fine, there is a bit of a time skip with this top. But the whole idea is to stuff it with sealant, follow up with hot glue, and put it on the end of a trimmed down, painted bilge tube. To paint the tube, stick the whole Poltergust in a trash bag, poke a hole in it, and feed the tube through. Tape up anything loose, get that spray paint, and spray.

Rule of thumb: do not assume any of my steps are chronological. I'm going off of categories to make a bit of sense out of my madness. A lot of parts were painted in batches because I was waiting on something else and I wanted to save time.

But, once things are painted, glued, and sealed, the worst of the work is over.

That being said, we are far from over. I'd keep going, but Tumblr on mobile won't let me do more than ten pictures, so keep an eye out for the inevitable reblog featuring part two!

[imaginatorcreates]

Commission for Toast (@sketchy-tour)!

Toast here asked me to make a tune for their Welcome Home OC, Dandy Leon, and the lovable Wally Darling. A sort of love song, if you will. Add on top of that an idea for a written scene between the two and you have this!

(Also I'm eating up your comments in Discord, please know that /pos)

This is my 29th creation. This is for Dandy Leon and Wally Darling. A song of spring, being in bloom, and many references to Dandy's Delights (for this is a tune with Dandy in it!). The goobers are waltzing in the garden and having fun little stumbles, but they're enjoying themselves because the world is in bloom.

Painted Flowers

25 March 2024 — 26 March 2024

Summary: Wally wants to paint someone to day. But who should he paint? Barnaby suggests to him, "Why not Dandy?"

Word Count: ~2.8k words

TW: None

Author’s Note: Enjoy! Also on AO3 as a gift.

One day, Wally Darling woke up and decided that he was going to paint today.

If someone were to ask him why, like his best friend did when the large blue pooch stopped by the painter’s sentient house, he couldn’t explain it. “I just want to paint today, Barnaby,” Wally said in his signature monotonous voice. He pocketed some of his paintbrushes and tubes of acrylic paint in the pockets of his blue cardigan as he added, “I have a problem, though.”

“Eh? What’s botherin’ my lil’ apple today?” Barnaby B. Beagle asked as he leaned against Home’s outer walls. The dark blue ear closest to the front door perked up as he joked, “Ain’t it too early to feel gray? I thought that was Frank’s job!” The dog howled in laughter, then in mock pain as Home lightly smacked him with his door. “Alright, alright! I get it Home!”

Wally laughed a quiet little “Ha ha ha,” even though he didn’t quite get what was funny about the joke. The few times he had asked Barnaby to explain a joke to him, his best friend had groaned and placed a paw over his snout.

“A joke ain’t funny if I hafta explain it,” he had said, “but for you, lil’ buddy, fine. I will.” Barnaby had patted his shoulder to show that he meant no ill will with his tone, but that night and for the next few ones, Wally had tried and failed to squash the thought that he might’ve ruined his best friend’s jokes forever.

“Home, I get it. No makin’ fun of the sourpuss– Home!” Barnaby let out a few more laughs, then thumped at his chest twice as he cleared his throat. “Lil’ buddy, ya said ya had a problem?”

“Oh, yes. I have a problem.” Wally wordlessly gave Barnaby a blank canvas, then his folded wooden easel. The former was off white and lightly textured, while the latter was light brown with splatters of miscellaneous colors. The hinges were squeaky with use and no longer smelled of wood but instead, it smelled faintly of chemicals from the paints he used.

It was bad for him, according to Frank and Poppy, but he found it comforting. Could something that was bad also be comforting? He would have to ask someone about it.

But, that was for later. Another problem for later.

“I don’t know what to paint,” Wally said as he grabbed his palette, stepped outside, and closed the door. He craned his neck up, took a few steps away from his taller friend, then craned his neck a little less. “I don’t feel like painting red apples. But I like painting red apples. I don’t feel like painting you, but I like painting you too.” He fiddled with one of his paintbrushes, running the clean bristles over his fingers as he asked, “What should I do, Barnaby?”

“Well, gee Walls.” Barnaby furrowed his brow as he exhaled through his nose. “How’s about ya paint one of your neighbors?”

“Oh. That’s a good idea.” Wally paused stroking his fingertips with the paintbrush bristles, then resumed as another problem made itself apparent. “But who? Who should I paint today Barnaby?”

“Well, you can’t paint me! You said you didn’t wanna.”

“I still love you Barnaby.”

“Yeah, love ya too.” Barnaby started to thump his foot on the ground, quietly letting out a low growl as he thought. “Who have ya painted?”

“I’ve painted you, Barnaby. I’ve painted Julie, and I’ve painted Frank. I’ve painted Sally, and I’ve painted Poppy. I’ve painted Eddie, and I’ve painted Howdy.” Wally counted off each neighbor on each of his fingers, and he was left with one finger left standing. “I’ve tried to paint Home, but Home is very large and requires a lot of time. I will finish Home’s portrait soon.”

Home creaked an apology.

“It’s okay Home.”

“Huh. How about ya paint one of our other neighbors?” Barnaby asked. “How’s about that one with the sunflowers in their yard? Dandy?”

“Dandy?” Wally stopped brushing his fingertips as the name bounced around his head, trying to attach itself to a face. Sunflowers in their yard…green…brown hat…flowers. But not Julie’s type of flowers. Julie’s flowers were loud and vibrant, brave and running towards what she loved. Flowers attached to Dandy’s name were bright, yes, but they were gentle. They curled away from harsh words and they bloomed in the quiet moments.

The painter gasped. “Oh! Yes! I should paint Dandy!” Almost at once, the floodgates in his brain opened. Ideas flooded his mind, breaking through darkness with shades of green and yellow and red. He almost wished that he was as big as Barnaby so he could walk further with each step. His plans of painting couldn’t wait!

Barnaby let out a howl of laughter and gestured to the main road with a jerk of his head. “C’mon lil’ apple. Let go get your sunflower’s portrait painted.”

“My sunflower?” Wally asked as the pair started on the journey to the gardener’s house. “Barnaby, the sunflowers belong to Dandy. And I will be painting Dandy, not their sunflowers.”

The blue dog snickered. “Alright lil’ buddy.”

Wally didn’t understand that joke either.

The sun shone down on the pair of best friends as they approached the earthy-colored house. Even from a distance, the yellow flowers stood tall towards the sun, almost greeting them with how they were turned towards them. Some were lightly tied to wooden stakes, but they still looked healthy.

Standing next to the sunflowers was a puppet with green felt, short and fluffy brown hair, and squarish glasses on their face. The sleeves of their brown cardigan were partially rolled up as they inspected some of the leaves of the sunflowers, their face deep in concentration as their mouth moved slightly with words that were too quiet to hear.

“Heya Dandy!” Barnaby barked out as the distance between the puppets started to close.

Dandy jumped and looked up from their work. Their eyes widened and they scrambled to dust off their clothes, roll down their sleeves, and step out of the thick of their sunflowers. “Wally! Barnaby!” they called back. “What can I do for y’all?”

“Funny, they called your name first Walls,” Barnaby murmured.

“That was supposed to be funny?” Wally asked.

“Eh.” Barnaby shrugged and turned his attention back to Dandy. “Wally here wants to paint ya.”

Wally watched as Dandy’s gaze rapidly turned to him, hovered for a moment too long, then turned back to his best friend. “Me?” the gardener asked as they pointed to themself. Their gaze turned back to Wally as they repeated, “You want to paint me?”

“Yes,” Wally breathed. “I want to paint you, Dandy.”

“I — ” The gardener's hands started to wave dismissively as their eyes dropped to the ground. “I don’t think I’m good enough to be painted! I’m a mess, and I have dirt on my hands. My hair is messy, and I have to send some flowers to Howdy’s — ”

With one swift motion, Barnaby unfolded Wally’s easel and placed it down nearby. He then patted Dandy’s head and chuckled at the yelp of surprise the gardener let out. “Re-lax Dandy. Walls here ain’t gonna eat cha alive!”

Wally’s fingers tightened around his cardigan for a brief moment. His eyes itched.

Not today. Not today.

Barnaby placed the blank canvas down on the empty easel and patted Wally on the shoulder before he bid the two shorter puppets farewell and walked away. “Peace out ‘n have fun! I’ll be at Howdy’s if ya need me!”

Wally waved goodbye to the blue dog, then turned his attention back to Dandy. “I will be painting you soon, neighbor.”

“Wally,” Dandy murmured. They kept looking at the ground, their voice even quieter than when Barnaby was there. Their brows were furrowed slightly and their mouth was pressed together in a thin line. “You don’t have to paint me. I think there are better neighbors to paint than lil’ ol’ me,” they chuckled. At the last half of their sentence, they sounded a bit like Eddie.

“I want to,” Wally countered. “I really do want to paint you.” He started to take out some of the acrylic tubes and laid them on the excess wood of the easel. He untwisted some of the caps to loosen them up, then carefully squeezed a bit of paint onto his palette one at a time. A bit of black and white in the corner for mixing, then green here and yellow there. Blue as well, and brown was very important.

“I woke up today and wanted to paint,” he confessed. “But I didn’t want to paint red apples or Barnaby, even though I love both red apples and Barnaby very much. Oh, thank you Dandy.”

The gardener blushed as they helped screw the caps of the paints back on. “I can getcha a cup of water for your paints. And a stool, if you want one.”

“A stool for the paint water would be nice, thank you.”

As Dandy hurriedly walked inside their house, Wally made it his mission to stare at the blank canvas with a paintbrush in one hand and his palette in the other. He had the subject, and he had the colors. He had the idea, no matter how faint it was. But now that he was here, with his subject nearby and with his colors laid out, the idea was rapidly vanishing.

His grip on the paintbrush tightened. The pose. How should Dandy pose? And any objects? Should they be holding anything in their hands? How much of Dandy should he paint?

He wanted to paint today, that he knew. But why was it so hard to paint?

“ —lly? Wally?”

The pompadoured puppet let in a sharp inhale of air and turned towards the voice.

Dandy gasped in return, backing away slightly. They bumped against the stool where an old cup filled with water sat, and they cried out to catch it as it wobbled precariously. “Golly! I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Wally said. He found his voice again — again; he was losing it…what year was it? — and forced himself to take a slow, calm breath. “I still want to paint you, Dandy. But, I’m having trouble imagining how I want to paint you.”

“Paint me however you want Wally, and I’m sure it’ll look nice.” Dandy’s gaze alternated between him and the ground, and their felt still showed hints of a blush. Pinkish, maybe red.

Like apples.

Wally slowly raised his paintbrush and started to circle it in midair, pretending that the ends of the brush were covered in red paint. He brushed an imaginary stroke upwards to make a stem, then two smooth lines to make a leaf. He liked apples. Those were the first things he painted.

What did Dandy like?

“Oh!” he gasped. “Dandy, can I paint you with sunflowers?”

“Sunflowers?” Dandy repeated. “The tall ones or the ones I picked earlier for Howdy’s?”

Wally paused. He looked at the sunflowers that towered above their heads nearby. Instead of looking friendly, they now looked intimidating. “I want to paint you with the sunflowers closer to your face.”

“My face? Oh, you’re going to paint my face?” Dandy’s hands waved, though not as erratically as Julie. “Can’t I hide behind my sunflowers? I��m a mess like I said and the sunflowers are more beautiful than I am and — ”

“Dandy.”

Dandy stopped.

“I think my neighbors look beautiful on my canvas because I paint what I see.” Wally’s smile widened as he added, “And I think the painting I want to do with you and your sunflowers will be beautiful too.”

If Dandy’s face could turn into a pretty red apple, it would. The gardener sputtered something before they stumbled away and stumbled back with a large bouquet of sunflowers in their hands. Dozens of yellow petals shone outwards, almost giving Sally a challenger for the brightest one in the neighborhood. In their centers, hundreds of seeds created a dark contrast.

In the middle of it all, Dandy’s face was buried in it.

Wally didn’t mind so much. He needed to paint the sunflowers first.

So began the long and slow process of mixing colors to create the right shade, then applying them onto the canvas in gentle strokes. The petals were abstract shapes at first, radiating from a circle of darkness in the center. As Wally switched brushes and added details, the sunflowers gained personality. Individual petals started to differentiate, and someone could pluck out the seeds if they wished to.

He dipped the brush in the murky paint water and started on the puppet. He looked around the canvas and saw Dandy’s face still buried in the sunflowers.

That was no good.

He placed the paintbrush on the stool and slowly approached them. “Dandy. Could you lift your face up please? I need to paint it.”

Dandy hesitantly complied, but most of their face was still covered by yellow petals. “The sunflowers are more beautiful,” they faintly insisted. “They’re in bloom.”

“You are in bloom too,” Wally said. Despite his brush hand smelling slightly of paint, he reached out and cupped his hand against Dandy’s cheek. He gently lifted their warm face up and out of the sunflowers and said, “You are in bloom, Dandy. Like the sunflowers, and the apple blossoms.

“I woke up and wanted to paint today. I wanted to paint, and you are in bloom. Why should I not paint a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers and the neighbor that grew them?”

A long, palpable pause stretched out between the two. Wally wondered if he made a mistake with this. He knew that Frank didn’t like to be touched very often, so what if Dandy was the same?

Then, Dandy slowly smiled. Their smile radiated through the sunflowers, and for a second, Wally thought that the gardener was the most pretty flower he’d seen.

His own smile widened and he withdrew his hand. “This…this is the most! I will paint this now!” He swiftly came back to his canvas and started mixing the right shade of green. The portrait slowly came together. First the general shape, then the details. The highlights came last. A few broad strokes for a blue sky, and…!

“Dandy, it’s done.” Wally placed each used paintbrush into the murky paint water, one by one as he waited for the subject of his painting to shuffle around the easel to look at his work.

On the canvas, were dozens of sunflowers arranged in a strong bouquet intermixed with delicate petals. The sunflowers themselves were made of strokes of yellow and circles of black, highlighted by elegant lines that made each detail pop. In the middle of it all, was a puppet whose smile was the centerpiece of the painting. Eyes slightly squinted shut from how wide they were smiling, a hint of red on their cheeks, and hands that held the entire bouquet together by their stems.

A gasp followed by a squeal of joy. Hand waving and heel bouncing briskly followed, alongside quiet bursts of “It’s so beautiful!” and “The detail on the sunflowers!”

Wally watched Dandy go through several levels of joy and awe, and the semi-permanent smile on his face softened. His partially-lidded eyes took in the small details: brown eyes that sparkled at the work of art on the canvas; the little yellow flower on their hat that never wilted; gentle flowers that reached towards the sun, fingers curling around the drops of light and holding it close.

Quiet.

“Do you want to keep it?”

“I…I shouldn’t.” The light was escaping from their fingertips.

Did he do that?

“I insist. I would be honored if you took it.” Wally gingerly took the still-drying painting and held it out towards Dandy. “I want you to have it.”

Dandy’s mouth pressed into a thin line as they looked down at the ground for a moment, then thrust the sunflowers in front of them. “Take these. I’d feel bad if you didn't have something in return. I can always get more for Howdy, it’s not a big deal.”

The next minutes were spent juggling an exchange; between trying not to touch any paint on the canvas and not dropping any sunflowers on the ground, the two spent an excessive amount of time trying to give each other the items. In the end, Dandy was left holding their portrait and Wally had a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand.

Dandy lightly bounced inside their house, and Wally was left outside with a sunny-smelling bundle of flowers counteracting against the chemical scent of his acrylics. He buried his face within the flowers and deeply inhaled. Between strong whiffs of paint, he breathed in drops of sunlight.

“The most,” he exhaled. “These are the most.”

For the next several days, anyone who peeked in the window of Home could catch a glimpse of a vase filled with cut sunflowers. They were perky and alive, and it certainly complimented a fresh red apple that always sat next to the vase for as long as the sunflowers lived.

[circeius-invidioso]

Heres an answer to a question you never asked.

Does water temperature affect your miniature painting results?

Short answer

Yes.

Long answer.

The current project began because of a question 3 germans raised in a forum (no this isn't the beginning of some joke) and the internet had no clear answer for it.

How does the temperature of the water used to thin the paint effect the final result?

Some say it doesn't.

Others say it does very little.

A tiny minority say that warm water makes warm colors brighter and cold water turn cold colors from decent to brilliant.

Today is the day we find the truth.

First things first.

Take a deep breath. Relax, grab a drink.

And let me explain to you the variables of this experiment.

1️⃣ This is for the name of the information section. There are 5 separate ones.

Control, Warm I, Warm II, Cold I, Cold II

2️⃣ This is the water temperature used to thin the acrylic paint.

3️⃣ This is the darkest the color gets (the color is measured in RGB).

4️⃣ This is the lightest the color gets (the color is measured in RGB).

5️⃣ This counts the coverage and density of pigment.

6️⃣ This counts how glossy or matt the paint is when it dries.

7️⃣ This counts how fast it dries.

8️⃣ This counts how easily it spreads.

9️⃣ This counts the density of the thinned paint as well as other remarks.

Things that have been taken into account and other remarks.

Every paint has been applied in 3 even layers.

The same brush was used for the whole experiment.

Water and brush were cleaned and changed for every paint in order to avoid color bleeding that might ruin the merit of the results.

The results might vary in other acrylic paint brands. Every company has their own recipes.

The colors used in the test are red, yellow, green, blue, white and black. Two warm, two cold and two neutral. Makes sense.

Purified water was used.

Before I assault you with six excel spread sheets and scare you.

Let me show you the nice colors.

1️⃣ Paints thinned with 24 °C water. There is thinned and paint straight out of the tube.

2️⃣ Paints thinned with 6 °C water.

3️⃣ Paints thinned with -18 °C water.

4️⃣ Paints thinned with 40 °C water.

5️⃣ Paints thinned with 82 °C water.

With a first glance the results look quite similar. Maybe not. You be the judge of that.

But the devil is in the details.

And details we will see. Time for all those sexy, sexy excel sheets.

Now.

Take an extra second, breath in.

Hold it.

Keep breathing.

I will explain everything.

Don't panic.

Here is the summary.

1️⃣ CONTROL / 24 °C

The default painting mode. The most commonly used of all the thinning mediums.

And the results are as expected. Everything handles fine with variation between smoothness and opacity.

The flow is thick and there is some streaking but nothing too serious.

2️⃣ WARM I / 40 °C

The first differences are beginning to show.

The Yellow and White are now more opaque compared to Control. All the while the application is a lot smoother and the paint flow easier.

When it comes to color there is no large visual difference.

3️⃣ COLD I / 6 °C

It's getting ugly. We have lost a little bit opacity in 4 of the 6 colors.

We had some improvements in brilliance but also others have been hurt because of it. In general cold water seems to flatten the paints.

Srangely the cold colors dry faster now. Interesting...

4️⃣ WARM II / 82 °C

Opacity has been unified across the board. The tones have been smoothened and for some paints the drying period has been prolonged.

But the most fun and useful of all, is the application.

The paint applies so smoothly, so buttery smoothly the brush practically was sliding on the paper. The area was fully covered in two layers.

No bumps, no bad feelings.

As for hue, the red is a tiny bit redder that before and the blue is a bit darker.

So far call me pleasantly shocked.

5️⃣ COLD II / -16 °C

Absolute paint degradation.

The results were clumpy, stiff to apply and transparent.

It was a mess and the end product looks hurt.

I mean. Look at those numbers.

Look at it.

It's awful.

TLDR and other random cuts

As for final thots.

Warm water has a visible, tangible effect on acrylic paint. It smoothens, unifies and helps with application.

All the while cold water ruins acrylic paint, it clumpens and stiffens it. The colder it gets the worse it will look and the more you will need to completely cover an area.

But don't take that as gospel and start dipping all your brushes in boiling water.

Boiling hot water will eventually ruin acrylic brushes.

Treat this information I gave you as another tool in your miniature painter's belt.

Use it wisely. And don't kill your brushes by bathing them in hellish temperatures in order to get your paint to behave.

Those other random cuts

The science part is over. The field research concluded this is my own rambling now.

Hi, hello there my imaginary friend.

I had so much fun with this and I was super excited to share this with you. I got a day off work and I spent it filling out spread sheets and painting.

But also I realized that finding the answer to a single question bred so many more.

Like.

How are inks affected by temperature?

How do different kind of waters (distilled, purified, tap water, salt water) affect the final product?

That ceremonial primarch's armor paintjob cost I have left rotting in another abandoned doc. What's up with that? How much does 24 karat gold clad Dorn cost?

Numbers is so fun. Excel is so fun.

No I am not an Ultramarine is disguise.

Why do you ask?

[polychaeteworm]

The phrase "at this point I'm holding myself together with glitter glue"

Hits me, a glue obsessed autistic, real well as a statement of fragility because (here comes a completely unnecessary info dump)

Going forward, a simple thing you should know:

PVA=most water based white glue, sometimes clear. Elmers is PVA.

Glitter glue is actually not glue 90 percent of the time. The exception is Elmers brand, because it's Elmers glue with glitter.

But the lil squeeze tubes of glitter glue? They shouldn't even call it "glue" because the medium the glitter is mixed into is usually never glue. It's a slightly sticky acrylic medium. Using it to hold something together is like gluing something with paint. I know this because glitter glue usually won't make slime when you add the catalyst because it doesn't contain enough polymers to make chains, and if that's the case then it's not a strong glue.

Making slime is a cool way to test the strength of a PVA glue. The better and faster it polymerizes into slime, the stronger it is.

Want real glitter glue that glues? Get transparent PVA glue (clear Elmers is a choice) and mix glitter in. Mind the size of your glitter particles if you use a squeezey nozzle so they fit.

Want custom glitter "goo" that doesn't need to be sticky? Get acrylic medium(I use liquitex golden mediums) that dries crystal clear in the texture and viscosity of your choice, mix in gitter, profit.

Now some funnies-

If you are holding together strongly, say "I used marine quality two part epoxy to fix myself"

If you are strong but could be broken with enough force say "I'm holding myself together with a mixture of super glue and baking soda"

If all it takes is someone splashing you to make you break say "I'm being held together with school glue"

[pareidoliaonthemove]

Whumptober request! No. 25: SURGERY

Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

For CSaTM, any characters

The Mystery of (Un)Consciousness

Colonel White stood in the starboard observation tube, eyes straining towards the horizon, willing the medi-copter to appear in the distance.

His heartbeat seemed to echo off the walls, encompassing him in a cocoon of sound, a rapid thumping that was – on an abstract level – concerning. A glance down revealed his right foot, tapping a frantic tempo on the super-tough acrylic that surrounded him. And turning the observation tube into a giant drum that telegraphed his anxiety. With an effort, he stilled his leg.

Behind him, Lieutenant Green’s subdued voice was just soft enough that he couldn't comprehend what he was saying. That static buzz that responded was loud by comparison, but not comprehensible.

“That was Captain Magenta, sir,” Green’s voice was still subdued but clear and steady. White turned to face him.

“The assailants have all been captured. Captains Magenta, Ochre and Blue are working with Spectrum London to process and interrogate them. Admiral Naismith is safely under protection at his headquarters. Apparently …” Green stumbled a little then.

White could understand. “Was the original groundteam’s mission completed?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. Doctor Fawn” – and his voice only wavered a little at that name – “had finished his medical examination. His verbal assessment was that the Admiral was medically fit for duty, subject to the results of some routine blood tests. They were all about to leave – they were in the secure carpark – when the attack was launched. The Admiral was not injured; his driver was, though. The Admiral’s secretary managed to get him away.”

White nodded. “Do we have an ETA on the medi-copter?”

Green consulted his link up to the main scanners. “About ten minutes, sir.”

White nodded. “Very good.” He considered a moment. “Lieutenant, I will go to medical. I wish to be present when the medi-copter arrives.”

Green nodded. This was expected; if the situation was not ongoing, Colonel White always met an incoming medi-copter. It had taken medical staff a time to accept this, but if he didn’t see the incoming injured, he would haunt Sickbay like – in Doctor Fawn’s words – “a particularly bad tempered ghost of Hamlet’s father”. Seeing ‘his’ people being taken into care was enough to calm him.

White left Central Command, planning his route and pace to allow him to arrive a careful short interval before the medic-copter was due to arrive. It was a precarious balancing act. Arriving early enough to allow him to be seen to be present, and to find a place to observe without being in the way, but not too early as to become a source of disquiet – if the time interval was too long, staff would feel the need to acknowledge his presence more fully, and that would distract them from preparing for the patients that were incoming.

And today it was so much more important to get that balance right. Today was no normal day.

Today it was Doctor Fawn – their boss – who was incoming injured.

The first reports were garbled. Armed ambush in the secure carpark. Admiral away safe, his driver critically injured. Scarlet Code Red – gunshot. Upsetting, but – sadly – depressingly normal.

Then had come the disturbing news. Doctor Fawn – gunshot wound and loss of consciousness. Quickly amended to intermittent consciousness.

White could almost feel Cloudbase shiver as the news surged from one end to the other. Fawn was universally liked, despite frequent complaints about his medical decrees.

And if he was liked by the people he had little to do with, then the staff of sickbay – the people he worked with roughly twenty-seven hours of the day – had all but deified the man.

White stepped into the antechamber for the pressurised helijet landing pad serving Sickbay just as the one minute to arrival announcement was made. The personnel who had been milling in the antechamber immediately broke apart, separating into two teams – one for the two inbound patients. Doctor Aubergine, a French-Algerian former Special Forces medic who was the Second-in-Command to Fawn headed one team. Per protocol she would, White knew, take Scarlet; leaving Doctor Fawn to the combination of Doctor Beige – a young, impressionable doctor who was desperately trying to model himself on Fawn, but was, like his colour code, a pale imitation of the older man; and Nurse Jacaranda, the Head of Nursing Services, and an old friend of Fawn, from at least to his time with the World Health Organisation.

The tension in the room mounted as the medi-copter smoothly descended into the recessed bay, ramping up as the rotors spun down and the ceiling slid smoothly closed. A red light above the door switched from red to amber as the process of pressurisation began, a faint mist billowing from vents that faded to nothing as the air pressure crept up towards one atmosphere.

A series of three electronic chirps, then the amber light went green as the audible thunk of the door locking mechanism released, and Team One, Aubergine in the lead surged forward, pushing through the door as soon as it was wide enough for them to squeeze through; Team One deployed toward the nose of the medi-copter, as Team Two ran in after them, lining up along the path at the tail end of the ‘copter.

Even as the pressure door was opening, the door of the heli-jet was swinging open, and the Critical Response Paramedic team began the process of handing over their charges to the Cloudbase Medical team.

Scarlet’s gurney was first out, his officer lying limp, an oxygen mask clamped firmly over his face, two IV’s, one of Scarlet’s own blood, another with an electrolyte solution feeding into his arm, and a Paramedic running alongside, keeping pressure on a large bloody mass of wadding and bandages just under the ribcage.

A series of rapid, staccato exchanges words and Scarlet was whisked into Sickbay, leaving Colonel White with an impression of pale skin, red blood, and a brief glimpse of fluttering eyelids. White blew out a breath. Not dead. That was always a relief, even though part of him wondered if it was cruel to keep him alive when he would recover from death in the same amount of time having experienced less suffering.

With Scarlet cleared of the area, the second gurney was removed from the helijet. Unlike Scarlet, Fawn was awake, propped up in a reclining seated position with a paramedic putting pressure on bandages on his chest and upper arm, his free arm was attempting to fend off an oxygen mask. White allowed himself a small smile as Jacaranda stepped up, taking the oxygen mask with one hand, and pinning his arm down with the other took advantage to clamp the oxygen mask firmly across his face. The muffled words from behind the hand and mask were, White surmised, something he would be forced to put Fawn on report for if he had understood them.

Nurse Jacaranda and the paramedics rolled Fawn into Sickbay with Doctor Beige trailing ineffectively behind them.

Captain Grey deplaned, and presented himself to his commanding officer. White nodded, patted his shoulder and indicated the entry to Sickbay, before he turned and nodded at the flight crew, visible through the cockpit windows. He followed Grey to exit the pressurised landing pad, to allow the flight crew to ready the medi-copter for its next deployment.

He hesitated for a second as he entered Sickbay proper, before turning toward the exit of Sickbay, Captain Grey on his heels. Scarlet and Fawn would be well cared for. He would only be in the way if he remained here. He had a base to run, and a mission to oversee.

It was several hours later when White re-entered Sickbay. Doctor Aubergine had notified him that Scarlet had recovered and was on post-injury stand-down. The report on Doctor Fawn was more worrying.

If it wasn’t for an orderly leading the way, White wouldn’t have guaranteed he could find Spectrum Medical’s Deputy-Head’s office – Fawn’s seeming omnipresence made it an exceedingly rare event that Aubergine was the one reporting to Command.

“Colonel,” was all the greeting he received upon entering the room; the woman was habitually brusque, irrespective of the rank of the person she was talking to. In her own way, she was every bit as irreverent as Fawn, but she seemed to talk down to people, whereas Fawn seemed to talk up to them – and it wasn’t because of his relatively short statue.

The report delivered on Scarlet was, typically, short, sharp and to the point. Gunshot wound, bullet removed from the body and turned over for forensic analysis, retrometabolic healing, certified fit for duty, put on post-injury stand-down. The carbon copy of a hundred – a thousand – other medical reports since that disastrous exploratory mission to Mars.

When the report turned to the condition of Doctor Fawn, the woman became surprisingly hesitant. The reported injuries were minor – a bullet graze on the chest, a slight gouge across his arm. Neat, clean and minor – Doctor Beige had quickly had them stitched up and bandaged. No, the concern was the loss of consciousness. And that was what Aubergine was at a loss to explain. Had reports from the field been made that might provide an explanation?

Captain Grey, who had been detailed as Fawn’s security for the mission, had made his report. When the fire-fight had broken out, and Naismith’s driver was injured, Fawn had broken cover to provide first aid. Grey had moved to provide cover, and it was only once the shooting was over and the driver handed over to the London Emergency Services, that anybody realised that Fawn was injured. According to Grey, Fawn had ‘fainted’ shortly thereafter, reviving after a short interval; only to pass out again. This had occurred several times, and Captain Grey was at a loss to explain it.

Aubergine bit her lip at the information. “Not particularly helpful,” she muttered. “We’ve done the usual scans, but nothing shows up. Beige and Jacaranda reports he did the same thing two or three times here on Cloudbase. He is in a private room now, under observation. He is … not pleased … with the situation.” Her lips quirked a little at that.

White frowned. “Has he offered any insight into the cause?”

Aubergine snorted. “He insists it is not of concern. That he is fit for desk work.” She frowned severely. “Not until we know the reason for these losses of consciousness.”

White nodded. “May I see him?”

Aubergine nodded. “Yes. Nurse Jacaranda is the nurse on duty with him. This way.”

Aubergine led the way to a small private ward quite close to Scarlet’s ‘private quarters’. Inside Fawn was sitting in the bed, scowling alternately between Nurse Jacaranda and a pad of paper on the table. A glance around the room showed a set of medical restraints hanging from the wall in the place of the bland institutional painting that usually graced the wall the patient would be facing. A grin tugged at White’s face. That was particularly unsubtle as far as threats went, and an indication of how unnerved Sickbay staff were by the situation.

“I trust I’m not interrupting anything?” Both occupants of the room jumped, having been totally absorbed with whatever they were doing with the pad.

“Only Jacaranda cheating at ‘Hangman’,” Fawn grumbled. White picked up the pad, and found a space for a twelve-letter word, a large collection of ‘rejected letters’ and very few successful guesses. This quick glance was enough for White to determine that the word was not of the English language, unless it was a medical term, which so far as he was concerned was a separate language in and of itself. If Jacaranda was playing fair (and it would be surprising if she wasn’t), that left two languages the pair had in common.

He put the pad back down. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. It does not appear to be English.” Fawn snorted, as Jacaranda giggled. Hangman? White wondered. He mentally reassessed the time span of their friendship. He had previously thought they might have met at University, but the child-like nature of the game made him reconsider an earlier – much – earlier timeframe.

“I came to see how you are, Doctor.”

Fawn snorted again. “A little sore, but fine. Certainly wasting a bed here.”

Aubergine and Jacaranda both bristled. “You passed out, idiot. Several times,” Jacaranda snapped.

“Until we know why, you stay in that bed,” Aubergine growled. It was a tone that had sent even Scarlet scurrying back to the safety of his bed, but Fawn brushed it off.

“It’s immaterial. Highly unlikely to happen again, and certainly not warranting this level of needless fuss.”

White was amused. “As I recall being told, more than once, once your butt hits that bed, you lose all rank, all authority, and exist – wholly and solely – to obey Doctor’s orders.” He smiled innocently. “Do be a good boy, Edward.”

Fawn’s glare became a physical force. It threatened terrible retribution, but White was unconcerned. When it came to insults, and promised revenges, Fawn seemingly had the memory of a goldfish.

“You are very sure it will not happen again,” Aubergine’s eyes were narrowed at her boss. “Does that mean you know what the cause is?”

Fawn hesitated, and it seemed to White that he blushed faintly. “Adrenaline crash,” he retorted. “Surely you’re familiar with that phenomenon.”

“Oh, sure,” she fired back. “But I’ve only ever seen it drop a body once. Not …” She consulted her notes “… seven times.” Fawn muttered something under his breath. “So until we can account for what happened. Your ass stays in that bed.”

“It’s for your own good,” Jacaranda chimed in. “And you wouldn’t hesitate to do it to anyone under your care.”

He muttered again, flopping back into the pillows. White smiled as he made out the word ‘mutiny’.

He glanced at his watch. “I’m going to have to leave you all to it,” he announced. “Captains Ochre, Magenta and Blue will be returning to Cloudbase soon, and I will need to debrief them.” He smiled at Aubergine and Jacaranda. “Good luck.”

Twenty-four hours hadn’t improved Fawn’s temper, Aubergine noted bemused as she re-entered the private room.

Jacaranda was back on observation duty, determinedly rebuffing any attempts of her subordinates to take over watch-duties.

“Bandage change,” Aubergine announced, brandishing the tray she carried.

Fawn narrowed his eyes. “Bandages off,” he announced. “There’s noting to be gained by wrapping the stitches – they need to breathe. A wide sleeve cotton shirt will protect them just fine.”

“For a short while, yes,” Aubergine announced. “I will inspect the wounds, then Orderly Simmons will assist you to shower. Then I will rewrap the wounds.”

Fawn spluttered a moment before, “Shower! Not bloody likely!”

“Very bloody likely,” Jacaranda fired back. “You stink to high hell.”

“I. Do. NOT. Need. HELP. SHOWERING.” Fawn growled through gritted teeth.

Aubergine gritted her teeth back at him. “Until. We. Know. Why. You. Keep. Losing. Consciousness. You. Bloody. Well. Do. Ghabiun.”

“It’s for your own good,” Jacaranda added. She crossed her arms at the man on the bed. “Unless you know what the loss of consciousness was all about?”

Fawn shifted on the bed, head ducked down and turned to the side, refusing to meet their gaze as he submitted to having his shirt removed and the bandages taken off. He glared at the restraints hanging from the wall as Aubergine examined the wounds.

Simmons entered when bidden, and taking Fawn’s arm assisted him into the small bathroom. The door had barely closed before there was a thump and Simmons swung the door open frantically yelling for help.

Fawn was lying crumpled on the floor, a bloody smear on the edge of the handbasin’s counter suggesting a partial explanation as to what had happened.

In short order, the three had Fawn lying back on the bed, Aubergine examining the bloody smear on his temple. Simmons was babbling frantically as he explained what had happened.

Or rather, failed to explain.

Fawn had, by his account, needed very little help moving. After the door had shut, the doctor had “moved his arm, winced, looked down and then …” he waved his arm vaguely, suggesting a falling body. “I wasn’t quick enough to react, and he caught his head on the vanity going down,” he finished sheepishly.

“Minor contusion, probably will have concussion, wake up with a hell of a headache,” Aubergine announced, before turning to Simmons. “He collapsed and hit his head?” she asked.

Simmons nodded.

“Would you say he was conscious as he fell? Before hitting the counter?”

Simmons frowned. “I … I don’t think so, he was … limp. Didn’t try to catch himself or shift away from the counter.”

Aubergine frowned. “Can you show us? What he was doing?”

Simmons nodded and walked into bathroom. He frowned and positioned himself facing the mirror. “He was standing here, went to take off his trousers. He must have moved awkwardly, pulled his stitches, because he winced, and looked down,” he glanced towards his torso and arm, “and then …” he mimed his legs buckling.

Jaceranda and Aubergine glanced at each other.

“Looked down and fainted,” Aubergine said thoughtfully.

“Looked at his stitches,” Jacaranda said. “Just as he was about to have his first shower…”

Aubergine shifted her attention back to Fawn, she examined stitches. “He must have pulled them, there’s fresh bleeding. Just a tiny bit, nothing to worry about…”

The two looked at each other again. “Fresh blood,” Jacaranda said. “Do you think…?”

“How long have you known him?” Aubergine countered. “What do you think?”

“He’s never been shot before!” Jacaranda snarled back, before deflating. She scrubbed a hand over her face. “He’s turned up with bandaids and bandages, and has always been meticulous about keeping any wounds covered. I’ve never been around when he’s actually been injured.”

Aubergine considered, stared at the man on the bed, sighed. “Are we really thinking what I think we’re thinking?”

“Vasovagal syncope?” Jacaranda frowned. “I think we are. It certainly fits the profile.”

“He faints at the sight of blood,” Aubergine sighed.

“He faints at the sight of his own blood,” Jacaranda corrected. “God knows he’s seen enough of other people’s blood to fill an ocean.”

Aubergine sighed. “No wonder he wouldn’t say anything – can you imagine the reaction if this gets out? He’ll never live it down.”

“Yeah, but this,” Jacaranda indicated the man lying on the bed, “will have to get out. At least to Colonel White. How are we going to explain it?”

Aubergine frowned. “We’re going to have to think of something.”

Colonel White frowned. Doctor Aubergine stood in front of him, unrepentant as to the confusion she had caused.

“Can you please run that by me again, Doctor?”

Aubergine rolled her eyes. “Doctor Fawn had a fall in the bathroom, as of the time I left Sickbay, he was still unconsious due to the contusion sustained. I expect he will have a concussion when he wakes, but I do not anticipate any futher complications.”

White frowned. “And this ‘fall’, is it linked to the recurring loss of consciousness?”

“Yes. I do not anticipate any further occurrences of this. Once he has recovered from the concussion, I will clear him for light duties.”

“You know what’s been causing these incidences?”

“Yes, sir. We do. And we have no further concerns regarding the situation.”

The frown became a stare. “No further concerns,” he repeated.

“None whatsoever, sir.”

“And you would care to elaborate on this … diagnosis?”

“No, sir. All I am required to divulge to you is how any injuries or illnesses will affect your staff. This … symptom … will not affect Doctor Fawn’s performance of his duties. The concussion will be short-lived, the gunshot wounds will heal sufficiently within a month. Any further information will have to come for Doctor Fawn, at his own discretion.”

White capitulated. It was unusual that Cloudbase staff would experience an illness or injury that didn’t require Fawn to report fully, but he knew better than to push the subject.

As Aubergine returned to her post and duties in Sickbay, White considered the slim file in front of him. The incident report detailing Fawn’s collapse and head injury was paradoxically full of detail and lacking detail. With a sigh, he signed off on the report.

He paused, reconsidering a decision he had made not to make a suggestion. But it was madness. Sickbay would have considered that maybe it was the sight of his own blood that had caused Fawn to pass out.

Life was full of mysteries. And the cause of Doctor Fawn’s recurring loss of consciousness was doomed to be one such. And hope that the determination that it was not a concern was the correct one.

[eggcompany]

He's Just A Baby Part 4

The school wasn’t too far from the residential area. Daryl sat on the top of the cab of the truck with his feet dangling over the back glass. They broke up into groups, Shane and Lori went to the cafeteria, Daryl and Carol went to walk through the halls and classrooms. Each packing totes and a wagon, rolling down the tile floored halls. 

“Do you think we’ll find a rug? A racetrack one maybe, Carl would like it too.” Daryl asked as he swung his bow to clear the first room. Carol pulled the wagon to a stop outside the door and grabbed a tote from their folded stack. 

“Maybe, we could check the closets too. You look through the books, I’ll see what I can find.” Carol instructed. Lori and Shaen had two wagons given they’d really be the only ones bringing back useful things. 

The first few rooms brought not much other than books on culture, food, and kinds of dogs and a few notebooks and pens. The next few had coloring books and a large tube of art supplies that the two put in the hallway to get on their way back. There was a larger room, a special education room by the looks of it, in the middle of the row of doors. 

“Hey Daryl, why don’t you go look in the next room, I can look in here. We’ll be able to hear if anything comes in the hallway.” Carol said and the boy nodded and made his way to the next room down. Carol opened the door and went in. It was a special education room. There were three teachers' desks and lots of sensory toys and tools. There was also a shelf of books behind one of the desks. Carol quickly scanned them and found the one she wanted. “Helping Surviors Of Childhood Abuse, Sexual Abuse, and Mental Illness”, it was a rather thick book and Daryl probably wouldn’t be offended by the words he couldn’t read so she put it in her backpack. She found some fidget toys and bagged them, she then found some building bricks and a book of things to build from them. Carl and Sophia would like those too. She put those by the door on a child’s desk. Finally she looked over at the carpet, a plain blue one sadly, and found something she’d known Daryl would enjoy. A small bookcase of comic books and graphic novels. She picked a few, pirates, cowboys, and a few superheroes. 

“I found a cookie jar!” Carol heard from the other room and she quickly stashed the picture books away in her backpack and popped the bin of blocks in the wagon. 

When she turned the corner she found Daryl, sat down on the floor with his legs splayed open with a large cookie jar between his legs, stuffing his face. 

“Daryl?” Carol said with a smile and an eyebrow raised. He looked up at her with the biggest, brightest blue eyes. 

“No one needs to know. We can say it was half full.” He said and handed her a cookie which she rolled her eyes at and took. 

“You’ll get a stomach ache. Now c’mon cookie monster, eat and walk.” Carol said and Daryl happily walked around the school, a bit more pep in his step, with the jar clear acrylic jar in arm. 

They ended up finding quite a few candy and cookie jars. And most importantly a rug, a big racetrack rug. They pulled their wagon, full of toys and useless crap, back to the truck. Shane and Lori were sitting on the tailgate talking, behind them sitting a few very large cans of food and some pots. When they caught sight of Daryl, cradling a rolled rug and plastic tote in arms, Shane shook his head and Lori laughed. 

“Hey buddy, what’chu got there?” Shane said and watched the boy put the tote down and unrolled the rug, holding it so it didn’t touch the ground so his arms were raised high. 

“Racetrack. And cookies and books and uh building blocks and and candy jars.” Daryl listed off as he unloaded him and Carol’s wagon. Lori looked at Carol but she just shrugged and hopped in the back with Daryl for the ride back. 

Carl was overjoyed at what was brought back. Especially the large cans of pudding and the building blocks. Him and Sophia immediately carried them to Grime Temporary residence. 

Daryl was busy looking at the books he’d gotten himself while sitting in the kitchen. Carol said tonight he could work on reading, but really he knew she would read to him. He was looking forward to it. Since they brought so much back they didn’t have to do any more chores. 

Daryl just flipped through the wildlife book. He looked at the pictures, then he looked at the words. He knew what some words looked like. The, a… Actually that’s about it. He could say the letters, there was a D and then an E and another E and then an R. But duh, eh, eh, er didn’t really sound like a word. 

“Hey kiddo, you want a soda while we read this book?” Carol offered as she picked up the book from Daryl’s hands. Daryl shook his head and Carol chuckled. 

“We’ll work on this book until you can tell me each word alright? You don’t have to read it but you have to tell me each word. I’m not making fun of you, remember that.” Carol instructed and sat down next to him. Daryl nodded and paid attention. 

Carol read the book to Daryl, who was very content to stop her every other page to tell her about the time he hunted whatever it was. By the time they were done Daryl was yawning. 

“How about a nap before dinner. You can help me wash the dishes before bedtime.” Carol really said, not leaving much room for discussion. 

Daryl did sleep. He slept till the next morning when everyone was looking for him. Why couldn’t they find him? Because Daryl had decided to sleep in the safest place in the house, the most comforting. The closet. Rick found him, drool dried on his face and hair an utter disaster under his blanket. 

“Hey kid, we’re packing up. We thought you mighta’ left us. Can’t leave withoutcha, buddy.” Rick said and got the boy to wake up and stand. Daryl yawned and realized it was morning. 

“I’m sorry Mister Grimes, I’ll get our stuff-” Daryl started apologizing, grabbing his bow and starting for the stairs but Rick stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“We already packed up everything. You better go find Carol before she has a heart attack. Worrying her sick is what you did. Go say sorry and get in the RV.” Rick told him sternly and lifted his hand away. Daryl nodded and ducked away. 

“Sorry.” Daryl mumbled as he hurried to find Carol. 

“There he is”, “Found the kid”, and “He didn’t leave” all rang out as Daryl hurried toward the RV where he could see Carl and Sophia’s head. Carol was sitting in the passenger seat and Daryl looked at her sheepishly but she pulled him into a great hug. 

“You scared the lights out of me! I couldn’t find you for dinner and thought you’d gone to do something but then I didn’t see you this morning and I had no idea where you had gone. Don’t you ever worry me like that again, Daryl Dixon, do you hear me?” Carol said with the flurry of motherly relief. Daryl looked down and nodded. 

“I’m sorry Miss Carol, I just- I been- I was… I’m really sorry. I won’t do it again. I’m really sorry.” Daryl said and felt about two feet tall. Tears pricked at his eyes. Carol hugged him in, one hand cardaling the back of the boy’s head and the other rubbing his back. 

“It’s okay. It’s alright. You’re back and we’re ready to head out. We saved you back some breakfast. Get settled.” Carol said forgivingly and pulled back to kiss Daryl’s forehead and send him to the body of the RV. Daryl sniffled and nodded, moving to sit on the bench behind the table where the two younger kids worked. 

Soon everyone was settled and ready to go. There was a large factoried area an hour away and they had hopes of finding cannery or a food distributor. Somewhere they could lock down and take for a few weeks, a few months, for as long as they could. 

They expected walkers, maybe even survivors, and factories of course. However the group did not expect to find a large distribution warehouse. There were no cars in front of it, no windows, and a solid roof. They had decided to check it out. 

There were brown cardboard boxes for what seemed like miles. There was utter silence but they still looked for any walkers. Everyone was in awe. It was clean, sheltered, and perfect. 

“This is it. We can build a fence, walls, we can make this permanent. This is… we can do this.” Rick said to the group as they got to the back wall. There were heavy duty locking doors, thick cement walls, steam beaming holding up all the roof, and of course room. Enough room to survive inside if they need to. 

“This is fucking insane.” Is all anyone said. It came from the back of the group where Daryl was standing, bow in a slack hand at his side. Everyone laughed and agreed. 

“Five bucks says I can find alcohol.” Daryl said and smiled. It was like a snapped rubber band, everyone rushed to the boxes. Shane, Rick, and Carol all looked at each other and shook their heads. They instead checked the doors and looked at the back side of the building. 

Everyone was relaxed, joyous, happier than they had been since the world started to end. There was in fact a case of liquor in the big room they had cleared, one of many it seemed. Liquor and boxed mattresses and bed frames and snacks and sodas and juices and jerky and season salts and gardening supplies. There was just so much of everything. 

Daryl had went away from the pack to look through boxes near one corner, he found containers and metal water bottles and rope and soap and jars of buttons. Carol and Sophia went off to decide somewhere to build their room, everyone had been rationed things, the basics: a bed, a frame and a ration of food. 

Carol had caught sight of Daryl staring down at something in his hands, unmoving and frowning. He didn’t look disgusted or sad but rather… miserable. She approached him and looked at the clear plastic bag in his hands. 

“What’s that Daryl?” Carol asked and Daryl dropped it back into the back and practically snarled at the offensive object. He huffed off but Carol looked. Small colorful stuffed animals. Cheap ones like they have at the carnival. She looked at the one Daryl had in his hands, a blue spotted dog. There were other colored dogs, farm animals, fish, birds, all sorts of small hand sized stuffed toys. Carol took the box to her stack that she was making walls out of but kept it to the side. 

She took the blue dog out of the plastic and tore off the tag. She put it in her vest pocket and went back to going through boxes. 

Daryl was moving empty boxes to one side of the room. It was methodical, he seemed to be calmer doing it. He took them and made stacks, sizes matching up. 

“Daryl? Do you wanna help me make up a space for me and Sophia? It would be a big help.” Carol asked the boy who nodded and started making two walls in a corner. He worked quietly, a small smile on his lips. Empty boxes and some tape, that’s all it took for him to relax and feel content. Carol didn’t want to disturb him so she just went to help the rest of everyone put things together. 

He made a rather large area, using the two walls of the facility allowed him to use the boxes to make the space bigger. He made a doorway and decided he was done. He then carried in the boxed bed frame and dragged in a mattress that was out of its box. He built the frame quickly and set the mattress on top. He made a cheap side table and put it next to it. He went to get Carol and Sophia’s things and carried them to the room. He looked into the last box and found the box of stuffed toys. 

‘ Stupid thing to want. Dumb fucking toys. Shouldn’t want a thing for a fucking baby’ Daryl scolded himself as he carries the box to the corner. Carol’s standing in the doorway, a hand over her mouth in awe. Daryl dropped the box by the doorway and looked at her sheepishly. 

“It’s perfect Daryl. You did more than you needed to. Thank you, Daryl. Really thank you.” Carol said and hugged Daryl tightly with a big smile on her face. He hugged her back and gave a little grin. She pulled back and reached into her pocket. 

“We don’t have to tell anybody. This can be yours, and no one needs to know. I'm giving it to you as a thank you.” Carol explained and pushed the blue dog into Daryl’s hands. He flipped it around his hands for a moment before nodding and held it to his chest. 

“Yeah. Yeah secret dog.” Daryl said quietly and smiled at Carol. Sophia then came running up with a pile of… colorful fabric things and Daryl excused himself to make his own area. 

Everyone had their own areas. 

Lori, Rick, and Carl took up the most space so they made walls out of shelves from the box truck and sheets. They had two beds, a larger one and a smaller one. Carl had taken a few posters and sheets with race cars on them. The bigger bed had soft silk sheets and a warm chic grey blanket. 

Shane made a space toward the entrance of the building, he had found a large recliner chair and a green blanket and a bottle of rum. 

T-dog had made a space which he was quite happy about, comfortable bed, food, water, and a few tiny tequila bottles. He had chosen to cover his box walls with some sleek grey sheets. 

Dale had made a small space for himself opposite of Shane’s against the front wall. He just wanted to look out. 

Glenn was happier than hell to have a room and had covered his walls in muscle car tapestries and squirreled away a bottle of wine.

Andrea and Amy decided to make one big room and split it down the middle with two sheets. They had taken the time to build clothes racks and made themselves little wardrobes, giddy about it almost. 

Sophia had decorated their room mostly. She had found sheets with stars for the walls, a colorful rug for the floor, and blue sheets with cats for Carol’s bed and pink sheets with cats on them for her own. It was… the happiest place anyone had seen in a long time. 

Daryl though… No one really saw a space for Daryl. There weren’t any other rooms built even though they could be. They decided to hang up a solar lantern they had found in the middle of the cleared area, it was bright enough to be able to find from any corner of the room. They wanted a final head count so Shane walked around passing out water bottles for the night and couldn’t find Daryl. Shane went back to Rick where he was helping Carl change into some real pajamas. 

“Hey, I can’t find the kid. He ain’t in a room.” Shane said to Rick who quickly excused himself from Carl to talk to his best friend. 

“What’d you mean? You can’t find him? Did you check with Carol, you know he hangs around her.” Rick asked and looked around to see if he could get a glimpse of the boy. Shane nodded. 

“I checked. She hadn’t seen him for hours either. Now I don’t think making such a big noise in an unfamiliar place-” Shane started to explain but Rick already had his hands around his mouth like a megaphone. He called out Daryl’s name and everyone moved to stand in their makeshift doorways. 

“What’s wrong? Where’s Daryl? What happened?” Carol said and hurriedly made her way to Rick and Shane. Rick shook his head and waited. 

“Just want a head count and Daryl hasn’t come up.” Rick explained calmly. Carol was about to get a little bit heated over the fact they lost a kid but there were a few footsteps and a head popped out from around the main stack of unopened boxes. 

“Um…. yeah?” Daryl said quietly and yawned. He’d been sleeping, he’d made a nice little place to sleep. 

AKA; he took the box from Shane’s chair and squirreled it into the big stack of boxes. He built the pile around the large box so it was hidden, a tunnel of boxes leading to the much larger one. He’d dragged in pillows for a bed, some blankets, and had taken a small flashlight. He taped his knife to the side and had his little blue doggy. Everything was good, comfortable, safe.

“Hey, where were you? We all worried.” Carol said and gestured with her head to everyone standing in the doorways, they turned and went back to their areas. Daryl looked down at his feet, he’d replaced his boots with a pair of soft shoes, they were fuzzy on the inside and looked like regular shoes so he liked them. 

“Made a space for me in the pile. ‘Was sleepin.” He answered and looked back at the mountain of stacked boxes. Carol smiled at the two officers and made her way to walk Daryl back the way he came. 

Daryl stopped in front of the opening to his hideyhole. He looked ashamed almost, looking down, unable to catch the woman’s eyes. 

"Daryl? Are you sleeping in a box?" Carol asked and looked at the hole. Daryl swallowed and nodded. He knelt down and nodded toward the opening, it was just big enough for him to be able to pull himself through on his back, which he did to Carol’s delight. She giggled and bent down to look through the tunnel. She could see the opening to the bigger box and Daryl sitting with his knees to his chest. 

“Do what I did, I’ll help.” Daryl said quietly, so Carol did. She laid on her back and stuck her hands to find somewhere to pull herself in with but instead Daryl grabbed her hands in his and pulled her in. 

“Goodness!” Carol said laughing as she  sat up and looked around. She was glad to see he had gathered up blankets and made a nice little bed of pillows to sleep on. She was also very happy to see the little stuffed dog placed on the bed carefully. 

"hi" He said and looked at her. She smiled and patted his knee. 

"Did you see that Glenn found a whole big case of snack cakes? We're gonna organize everything tomorrow. There's even a stream a walkable distance behind the building. Maybe you could find one of the offices a nice place to sleep." Carol said and Daryl just looked at his feet. He knew eventually they would get rid of the box piles and he’d have to make a space for himself but until he found a nice small space for himself, the box was very good. Daryl just nodded he hadn’t heard about the stream but it made this place even better. 

"We can divide and ration the food. We have more than enough of everything else for everyone. We found water filters and medical supplies and charcoal. This is a good place isn't  it Daryl?" Carol said and moved to sit next to Daryl. 

"Yeah." The boy said quietly and leaned his head on her shoulder. She leaned over and kissed his forehead. 

"Are you tired?" She asked and he nodded his head after a moment. 

"Yeah" Daryl said. He was tired even though he just woke up. He wasn’t really tired . He just felt… a lot. His brain was tired but his body wasn’t. 

"Are you gonna go back to sleep?" Carol asked as she took in the way the boy’s body was all tense and the way his feet were fidgety like he was wiggling his toes around. 

"I dunno." Daryl mumbled and shrugged and swayed his legs back and forth a little bit. He was tired but he was just so awake. It was a weird feeling. Like if he laid down he would just be too wiggly to sleep. 

"Daryl, do you want to come with me and start organizing stuff in the other big room? I can't sleep either. Maybe we can tire ourselves out." Carol asked and bent her head to look at the boy’s face. She wasn’t really not tired but she wouldn’t like knowing Daryl was just sitting alone in what was basically a little cave. 

Daryl started to nod but looked over at his dog. Carol just smiled and moved to pull himself out of the box tunnel again. 

“The puppy can come too. We can get a safety pin and pin him to your pants.” Carol said with a smile as Daryl pulled himself out to follow Carol to the other large room in the building. 

“Okay.” He said and had a hop to his step as he followed her. 

When everyone woke up they were surprised to see that Daryl and Carol weren't where they left them. But soon Sophia woke up and said that her mom went to work in the other room. Carol had of course told her daughter, not wanting to stress or worry the kid. 

Everyone had gone to the other space and was surprised to see many of the boxes moved into stacks which were categorized by labels that were written on the floor in green and pink chalk. The first half of the words were written neatly and the second half were… unique. 

Food, Fabric, Hygiene, Hunting, Fishing, Ammo, Teknolje, Toys, Boocks, Shoos, and finally, drawn in big letters with stars drawn around it, Soler LIts. Some of the group giggled at the way the words were spelled. 

Lori asked Sophia if she had come and helped out her mom but the girl shook her head and said she hadn’t even gotten out of bed. 

"Carol?" Shane called out. It was best to know where the two went off to. There was a groan from behind one of the stacks in the corner and they all moved to peak around. There was a pile of colorful beach towels and Carol was sitting with her back against the wall and Daryl was laying on his side with his head in her lap. He had his little dog pinned to the hip of his jeans with one of his hands on it and the other in front of his face. 

Carol yawned and rubbed her eyes, blinking largely. He looked down at Daryl, just checking him. 

"Morning already? We did a lot in here so if you guys want, you can start with these and then we can tackle the other rooms. I think that would be best." Carol explained and yawned, she rubbed at Daryl’s shoulder to wake him up but he just scrunched his knees closer to his chest and made a complaining noise. 

“Yeah?” Rick said with a smile. He was proud of the boy, he had been so helpful to the entire group. He felt like Daryl was turning into a very hopeful and helpful young man. 

"Well Daryl did most of the moving. We make a good team. I opened them, went through them and he put them in their spot. We had to add more categories as we went along but, there is some great stuff here." Carol explained and there was a little sneeze from the boy. He sat up, yawned, rubbed the gunk from his face, and rubbed a fuzz from where it was tickling his nose. 

Carol patted his back and stood up. She groaned and he looked at where Shane, Rick, and Lori were all standing looking at him. He ran a hand through his hair to smooth it down. Rick came over and pulled the boy to his feet. 

"Hey trooper, Carol here says you're doing some team playing." Rick said and patted the young boys back. Daryl just blinked and yawned again. 

"Yeah, should get first dibs. I wanna ‘nother cake." Daryl grumbled at the officer. The man laughed and pulled Daryl against his side in a hug. 

“Absolutely buddy. Maybe we can whip up some pancakes this time around. We even found condensed milk, we can make a good cake this time around.” Rick said and Daryl smiled. He was excited to move more boxes and eat pancakes. 

It was a pretty great place, for being the apocalypse. They built a good wall out of cars from the surrounding parking lots and found a few good vehicles to use. They had solar lights inside the building that charged during the day. They had made planters full of fruits and vegetables and edible plants. They had basic water towers for rainwater and the stream always provided them with water to filter. 

Daryl grew to like living in the building. He had taken up a small control room that was built on the ‘second floor’, it was really just built high on the wall so he could look over the whole larger room. It was small but he’d ripped out the control panel and used it to build some of their wall.

He had been given gifts for being so helpful. He had a sleeping bag, a nice knife, coloring books, and plenty of easy reader books. Carol had been giving him lessons so he could read most of the words. He had a small desk, a chair, and a lofted bed. He liked his space. He put cool pictures of dogs over the windows so he could move them to see if he wanted but so no one could see him inside. 

They had everything they wanted. Daryl taught everyone how to make traps for crawdads and small animals. New people joined them and they kept expanding. The walls grew safer and stronger. New people shared new techniques and they kept growing and evolving. Tree houses were built, and in a few months they had expanded so they had two buildings within the walls. 

Daryl was happy. New people respected him because he was so educated in hunting and surviving. He usually stayed with Carol and the kids but he protected him. Everyone trusted him to protect the kids. He was happy to do chores and eat dinner with Carol. 

He was even happier when a small family joined them. 

There was an old man, Herschel, who became friends with Rick and one of the few doctors in the group. He was wise and nice and always had a good spirit. He was also very willing to snap his fingers at Daryl and tell him to go walk it off when he got huffy, or balled up on someone. 

There were also two sisters. One older, Maggie, who in a few weeks started to sleep in Glenn’s room. She was a good shot and helped the group build a fence and bring in cattle and a few horses. She helped tend to the pigs and cows. The younger one, Beth, was… Daryl liked her. She was like sunshine. She had very pretty blonde hair and soft hands for a farm girl and she teased Daryl and he just. He liked her a lot. His face always got red and hot when she teased him and grabbed his arm. 

Daryl and Beth usually hung out. They liked to help each other out, aka; Daryl liked to hear her talk. She liked to bring food up to the roof of the building and have picnics. She liked to brush his hair and remind him to wash it. He liked to bring her flowers because then she put flowers in her hair and that really made Daryl happy. 

Daryl was just happy. Sure sometimes he was sad. He was sad thinking about Merle, he was sad thinking about his momma, he was sad thinking about himself. But once he was done being sad he could go out and be happy with people who cared about him. 

Daryl liked his new home and his new family, even though it was the apocalypse.

[ich-bin-der-baer]

German Vocabulary: Painting

die Acrylfarbe -- acrylic paint die Aquarellfarbe -- watercolour paint das Aquarellpapier -- watercolour paper das Bindemittel -- binder; binding agent die Borsten (pl.) -- bristles der Fächerpinsel -- fan brush die Farbe -- colour; paint der Firnis (pl. die Firnisse) -- varnish die Gouache -- gouache die Grundierung -- primer das Harz (pl. die Harze) -- resin das Leinöl -- linseed oil die Leinwand (pl. die Leinwände) -- canvas der Malgrund (pl. die Malgründe) -- [painting] surface der Malkasten -- paintbox das Malmittel -- medium der Napf (pl. die Näpfe) -- pan [of watercolour] die Ölfarbe -- oil paint das Ölmalpapier -- oil painting paper die Palette -- palette das Palettenmesser -- palette knife das Pigment (pl. die Pigmente) -- pigment der Pinsel (pl. die Pinsel) -- brush der Schwamm -- sponge der Spachtel -- painting knife die Staffelei -- easel die Tafel -- panel das Terpentinöl -- turpentine die Tube -- tube das Verdünnungsmittel -- thinner das Wassergefäß -- water container

die Acrylmalerei -- acrylic painting das Aquarell -- watercolour der Effekt (pl. die Effekte) -- effect der Entwurf -- sketch, outline die Komposition -- composition die Lasur -- glaze die Lavierung -- wash die Malerei -- painting die Ölmalerei -- oil painting die Skizze -- sketch der Pinselstrich (pl. die Pinselstriche) -- brushstroke die Technik -- technique die Textur -- texture der Ton (pl. die Töne) -- shade; tone

aquarellieren -- to paint in watercolours aufspannen -- to stretch lasieren -- to glaze malen -- to paint maskieren -- to mask mischen -- to mix; to blend reinigen -- to clean trocknen -- to dry tupfen -- to dab tüpfeln -- to dot überziehen -- to coat verdünnen -- to thin; to dilute

blass -- pale dunkel -- dark durchsichtig -- transparent; clear flüssig -- liquid glatt -- smooth gleichmäßig -- even; consistent lichtdurchlässig -- translucent marmoriert -- marbled monochrom -- monochrome nass -- wet rissig -- cracked transparent -- transparent trocken -- dry überlappend -- overlapping wasserlöslich -- water soluble

fett auf mager -- fat over lean hell-zu-dunkel -- light to dark nass-in-nass -- wet-on-wet nass-auf-trocken -- wet on dry

[brella-boi]

Making Dango: Part 13

Were getting into the nitty gritty now.

We gonna start with the antennae. I was brainstorming how to do these for quite a while.

My friend suggested using something as an anchor for the antennae, so they dont just sag, and that was a brilliant idea. I got plenty of chichago screws in my order, so lets use those.

Stuff three pipe cleaners in there and braid them. Stick magnets on the underside, stick magnets to the head, and theyll easily stick on now.

Originally I was going to have 2 pairs, but the placement of the first was impossible the way I did the first scale... I should've lowered the placement of the first crest scale, because I wasnt able to fit the magnets before it. So I settled for one pair of antennae, right after the first scale. This shouldnt be plenty. Theyre technically posable too.

Sew the fabric on them in one big tube with a stuffed end, and DAMN

Next step, the eyes.

Stupid as I am, I only measured one side of the cut foam to fit the eye, and just assumed the other side would do. As you can see thats not the case.

I had to heavily cut the eye dome to fit it inz and even then there were spaces i just had to fill with hot glue.

I just about managed to have enough 'clear' glue stick, because our store ran out of clear ones and from then on I had to use glitter ones.

The inside has black foam covers, and also painted with black acrylic paint to conceal the glue.

And here they are!!

Though... the vision is not great.

The way you do dome eyes is you have to stick clear plastic onto the back of the mesh so that no condensation gets inside the dome and fogs up your eye sight. I used lamination sheets for that. And that was not the best choice. My vision went from great to quite bad real quick. There's glare inside as well, but thats unavoidable with the eyes being placed the way they are. Light peeks into one eye and glares onto the other fron the inside.

I later went back and tore off the lamination plastic, then glued on a different kind of plastic sheet. And the vision got at least 30% better. The googly eye dome itself is just not the best plastic itself, but it is what it is.

The eyes are done now, and they look quite good from the outside :)

Next, sewed up the neck, yippee

And last foe todays update, one ear.

I sewed it up through pain and tears and glued it onto the foam. The foam that I cut to size to only stick onto the grey part while the long fur has jiggle physics. Put some pipe cleaners on the end too to keep the fluffy bit upright. And i...

I dont like it

Like at all.

Look at how it bundles up on the back... how crinkly it is on the front... it definitely needs a small trim but i... i still don't know how to fix this

Im gonna put this off until I can get a second opinion from a friend

Also happy to hear suggestions on this

[mr-shockwave]

Heya, I showed my friend your post with all your 3d prints in it and he said (I quote) "Those clear prints give me unspeakable amounts of envy"

They look seriously awesome.

So I wanted to ask what specs/machine/set up you're using, specifically for the clear ones. I can tell it's a resin printer, but all the prints my friend tries keep coming out with bubbles.

ps. your v-tube models look great too :D

So, i use two Elegoo Saturn 2's to print, nothing fancy or modified abt em, and as of NOW just elegoo ABS like transparent and smoky black resin, however i plan to switch resins because of the transparents ABSURD yellowing problem and its just a bit fucky of a mixture. for the colors in the resin, i just use acrylic dye!! it helps both 1. remove yellowing and 2. just pretties em up. Im actually not too sure what exactly causes those bubbles, but its definitely not an issue ive encountered with my printers. and ty !!! im still really happy with how they turned out :]

[smoliboops]

Almost done catching up on nycc stuff, and so I'm sharing my 14th/15th doctor tardis console cosplay that I wore on Saturday!

Lots of fun to wear, had a lot of pics taken of me (which was so sweet/suprising especially since I went alone on Saturday and almost lost my sanity with making 2 cosplays for the con). Also Jodie!!! Absolutely lovely, pure sunshine who was so excited to sign my hat (she loved the details and said I should be proud which 😭😭😭!!)

First of, this was a lot to do xD. My original concept had a LOT more details I wanted to include that I sadly ran out of time (among them: adding tardis doors to the skirt, adding purple/pink/orange ruffle to the skirt to look like the time vortex from the s14 opening, adding a sutekh plush sticking out of my backpack, incorporating the jukebox in some way, and SO CLOSE TO ADDING LEDS TO THE VEST I MADE SO THAT IT COULD GLOW LIKE THE CONSOLE ROOM WALLS BUT I COULDNT FIX THEM IN TIME 😭) so with all that being said, the reactions to the outfit really cheered me up! 💙 and maybe next time I'll be able to make a 2.0 version of this lol.

Other note, this was made on and off over a few weeks. Skirt from thinkgeek that I got for 5 bucks at a yard sale and that inspired all of this (as well as the mushroom hat cottagecore outfits from tiktok, binging Sarah Spaceman's cosplay videos especially her TLOU cottagecore video and the tardis console dress from @gallifrey208 from 2013).

I sewed the vest with a pattern from KatieSewss on etsy (it's reversible and the inside is a cute pastel space fabric i got at another yard sale for a dollar). Blouse from thiftstore. And hat:

- made from a free hat (yard sale), thick cardboard for structure, covered in 2mm eva foam, primed with plastidip, painted with acrylics (it now glows in the dark too lol). Worked like this: one layer of cardboard, hat brim, another layer of cardboard to sandwich the brim later on the bottom, and the cardboard structures constructed on the top cardboard layer.

- Time rotor/tube made from a translucent binder divider (i spray painted it with clear spray paint to make it more clear), round blue things made with a blue binder divider, the little support beam? things for the round things are zip ties (i cut little slots in each blue thing for each zip tie to pass thru), and a paper straw with mini leds stuffed in the middle

- control panels made out of thinner cardboard (empty tissue box and fig bar box), and buttons/coffee machine/other details made from foam clay, more foam, dollar tree glass squares and pearl beads, and googly eyes 👀. Also added strips of black fabric (yard sale) to quickly cover the inside (floor?) of the panels/hat and filled empty space with copper/gold jewelry wire (more yard sales!)

- also, I did not want this falling apart on me, so the felt part of the hat was glued to the cardboard with tacky glue and I think gorilla wood glue, cardboard to cardboard was with wood glue and hot glue, and foam to foam to cardboard was contact cement, wood glue, and hot glue! So many glues!

If you got this far, here's the few wip bits I got before giving up on recording everything including a clip of me losing my sanity /j (a clip for if I ever do a tutorial vid but I don't think I'll ever get around to that aha 😅)

More rambles on the details/how i made it in the read more ^-^