#edit: IT DID IT AGAIN. THE PICTURES ARE ON TOP INSTEAD OF SIDE BY SIDE

[knickynoo]

Back to the Future: The Animated Series, s01ep10 "Dickens of a Christmas" Review and Commentary

Previous episodes linked HERE

In this episode: A family-togetherness trip leads to prison, pickpocketing, and other fun shenanigans in 1845 London.

We open with Doc doing some work on the DeLorean.

He's frustrated with all the repairs and admits that he sometimes wishes the car had never been invented but that without it, he wouldn't be able to travel back to times before it was invented. This leads him to reminisce about a trip he took with his family one very hot summer day...

Into the cartoon we go! I will point out that we do not see Doc's face at all during this opening live-action portion, which is a bummer. I hope we get to see him at the end.

(I don't think I've previously mentioned that I write these posts as I watch through the episodes—pausing every few minutes to type up anything notable—so you're getting the complete journey here as I take it all in. I did watch the first season a couple of years ago, but I do not remember any of it because my brain decided the experience wasn't worth holding onto and dumped it immediately.)

Let's get back on track. It is a blistering hot day in Hill Valley. The flowers are all wilting, the thermometer on the wall explodes because it's hotter than the device can even register, and everyone is growing cranky. Doc is attempting to install a high-tech air conditioner-type thing he's invented in order to make it more bearable.

Outside, Marty is making his way down the street to the Brown farm. He's ditched the jeans and letterman jacket in favor of more "summery" attire, and is already making poor decisions by not only once again riding his hoverboard in public but projecting a movie in front of him as well.

For someone as prone to falling and who is as easily distracted as Marty is, I don't think this particular decision is a wise one. But that's cartoon Marty for ya.

He does end up crashing, by the way. He fails to see Einstein in the yard, runs into him (Einie is fine) and the two of them smash straight through the front door of the house. He wrecks the kitchen and knocks everybody over. With everyone's nerves already on edge due to the extreme heat, Marty's violent entrance proves to be the last straw, and they all start angrily shouting at each other.

Listen. I don't like to see them all screaming at each other, but. I kind of don't blame them? It's a million degrees outside and also Marty literally broke their kitchen table in half. I think Doc can shout at him a little bit for that. As a treat.

Bonus side-tangent! Can I point out how tiny Marty and Clara look in this shot?? First of all, Clara is not as short as Marty is, so that's automatically off. But also, compare them to Doc. He's actually wearing shoes with like...springs on them or something? That adds to his height, BUT he's also leaning forward a lot, so it mostly evens out. Without the shoes and while standing with better posture, Clara would come up to what—Doc's shoulder, just about? (I'm not factoring in her poofy hair) Something is very off proportions-wise. Take a look, then, at a shot from the very next scene.

I dunno. Someone dropped the ball here. Side tangent over. Can you tell I'm having fun watching this silly show?

Once Doc calms them all down, Clara notes that it's the heat making them so irritable, saying, "Maybe if it wasn't hot as the Dickens..."

This gives Doc an idea, and he decides that a family vacation to somewhere cooler is in order. Doc, Clara, Jules, Verne, Marty, and Einie all manage to pile into the DeLorean somehow and travel to 1845 London just before Christmas. Upon arriving, Doc entrusts Jules to hold onto the DeLorean's key, which means it will get stolen or go missing like immediately.

While admiring the view with Doc and Clara, Marty falls off of a building because he gets distracted staring at a girl.

There he goes. I guess he didn't learn his lesson about flirting with other girls after the whole thing with Mercy Tannen and being tried for witchcraft. Marty's brain does not retain those valuable life lessons for very long.

After safely landing in a pile of snow, Marty follows the girl into a nearby toy store to chat her up and gets promptly slapped across the face. Doc and Clara also go into the store because Doc is enamored with figurines of Dr. Frankenstein and the monster, which he evidently had a toy similar to as a child. While Jules and Verne wait outside, a pickpocket comes by and steals the key to the DeLorean. Jules and Verne take off after the thief, and Doc, Marty, and Einie see the commotion and go after the boys. Clara is left at the store, and Ebiffnezer Tannen soon enters. He's angry that the shopkeepers are late on their mortgage payment (by one whole hour) and throws them into debtor's prison. Clara is also thrown into prison after she rebuffs Ebiffnezer's advances.

Side note: this is the second time so far in the series that a Tannen descendant has flirted with and tried to win Clara's heart—through very unsavory means. The prior instance also took place in England (Lord Biffingham, who had captured both Clara and Lady Jennivere).

After unsuccessfully trying to locate the boys and discovering that Clara has been arrested, Doc and Marty decide to split up. This shows just how desperate Doc is because he should know by now that nothing good has ever come from leaving Marty to his own devices. We go then to the prison, which has a whole gigantic wing built onto it just for all the people Ebiffnezer has thrown in there.

After being tossed into a room with like 40 other people, Clara asks an elderly man if he's been there long. The man replies, "When I first come to this prison, I was wrinkled, I had no teeth and drooled a lot. I was a baby!" As you may imagine, Clara is not encouraged by this response. I however, think this is one of the funniest lines of the episode so far. This man was put into prison when he was a BABY because he somehow wronged a member of the Tannen family.

Here are all the people crammed into one of the cells in the Tannen wing of the prison.

Meanwhile, at the town square, Jules and Verne have been captured by the pickpocket leader and are being forced to learn how to steal things. While they're trying to go along with it until they can get the keys back, Marty is off having his own little adventure trying to get Clara sprung from prison.

Using the hoverboard, he makes a visit outside Ebiffnezer's window, posing as the Ghost of Christmas.

Ebiffnezer's terror abates just long enough to ask, "Past, present, or future?" to which Marty replies, "Uh, all of the above." He tells Ebiffnezer that he's there to save his soul and yanks him out the window and into the night. Their first stop is a workhouse, where children are slaving away. Ebiffnezer starts crying, and Marty is hopeful that he's already having a change of heart. But it turns out that Ebiffnezer is just upset because it reminds him that there's an 8-year-old who owes him money.

Jules and Verne, however, are having more success in their mission after having gained the trust of the young pickpocket who had stolen the keys in the first place. They tell him that if he can help get the keys back from Murdock, they can help him escape and find a better life. They get the keys and all make a break for it (along with Doc who had caught up to the boys).

Marty's next stop on his journey is to show Ebiffnezer another sad sight—a homeless family roasting their Christmas dinner of a few chestnuts over a fire. Instead of being moved by compassion for the family, Ebiffnezer attacks them because he's hungry and wants their food.

Marty angrily flies himself and Ebiffnezer back to the house, declaring that he gives up. As he's complaining, his projector device from earlier in the episode falls out of his pocket and starts playing a Godzilla movie. Ebiffnezer is horrified by the images, and Marty takes the opportunity to tell him that the destruction he sees is the result of people living wicked lives. Ebiffnezer immediately promises that he'll change and free everybody from the prison. The next morning, he's found singing and dancing in the street with a Christmas wreath around his neck.

And I can't help but wonder what the implications would be, if any, to the Tannen lineage, given that Ebiffnezer has such a drastic change of character and goes from wicked and cruel to kind and generous. But alas, the cartoon doesn't care about these things.

Okay, wait, hang on. In the scene that immediately follows, Ebiffnezer sees Marty in the toy shop and recognizes him as the "ghost," which makes him enraged and mean again, so...I guess that whole change of heart is undone pretty much right away. At least he's already freed all the prisoners by that point. Anyway, Clara is reunited with her family, and everything turns out okay.

Also, here is a screenshot of them all crammed into the DeLorean on the way home, which I still do not think would be possible.

End of cartoon portion! Back to Real Doc, who is still under the car and doing repairs. At one point, he reaches for a donut with his grimy, disgustingly dirty hand, which upsets me.

He also ends up dipping the donut into the can of motor oil instead of his coffee. Serves you right, Doc.

And that's basically it for this episode. It's a fun one, but I think there was too much going on. There was the plot with the pickpockets, the Clara in prison plot, and the Marty and Ebiffnezer one. It just felt disjointed and made it hard to write about. But Thomas Wilson's voice-acting as Ebiffnezer makes the whole thing worth it.

Join me next week as we travel to 1926 and meet FOUR-YEAR-OLD DOC!!

[shadowquill17]

skirts maketh man - visual aid

Heyooo so someone asked for pics to better visualize the outfits in my skirt fic (where Edwin explores different clothes and ends up wearing a skirt), so here it is!

I didn't use very specific references, but I was definitely inspired by some pics of George and some outfits, so here are some of them and some approximations of what I was imagining:

CHAPTER 2

For the cloak and Sherlock Holmes outfit I was visualizing something like this:

(The long trousers are key, of course.)

The shorts that make Charles absolutely lose his mind were OBVIOUSLY inspired by this photoshoot pic of Mr Rexstrew himself, because same:

(The shorts in the fic are basically that same length and same light beige color, but with little dark blue flowers instead.)

And the top is obviously not the same at all, it would be more like this:

with the dark blue of the dark stripes matching the one of the flowers.

CHAPTER 3

The tartan suit I pictured to be something like the pic on the left, only without the waistcoat and with a shorter jacket:

And the tank top part, obviously, was inspired by George in the right side pic. Do you see what I meant about those arms???

EDIT: just realized why I could so clearly see a shorter jacket on Edwin! It's because George, once again, did it first!

100/10 gorgeous, no notes.

The black top with the puff sleeves probably looks like a mix of these:

Only the actual middle part is sheer, because George did THIS:

and I was just inspired, you know?

And finally, the skirt! from the very final scene. 🥰💖

The upper part of the outfit probably looks a little bit like this, which is the pic that inspired me (just imagine it without the blazer/jacket):

While the skirt looks like this:

Really love the buttons here, and I imagined a wide waistband like that.

(And I know George is wearing shorts in this pic, but I imagined the skirt falling at a similar place on Edwin's legs.)

And here is the fic, for anyone who liked the outfits enough to want to give it a read! 😘❤️

[hanihazeljade]

TikTok Tim

TikTok has been a blast and of course, Richard has been bothering Tim to make an account for siblings bonding. But Tim got himself a newfound confidence and a new way to irritate the people around him.

(CW: thirst traps, TikTok, possible femboy content, swearing)

"Can we just talk about Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne?" A TikToker with million followers said, "Like this dude is seventeen turning eighteen in like 3 months and what he done in his almost 18 years of existence?" It showed a screenshot of a headline way back when he was attending grade school that he skipped two grades, "He skipped 2 years in school and even though he dropped for two years, because some tragedy happen in his life, he still managed to graduate high school the same year in his age range." Which is true, but with all hacking the school systems, he graduated.

"And I also discovered that he is emancipated from his foster parent, Bruce Wayne. Like at first it was insane because you got the Wayne to finance you but look at him, he is one of the biggest shareholder in the Wayne Enterprise and he already got so many praise especially from Lex Luthor," and then screen showed a clip of Lex saying, "I commend the young Drake-Wayne, even he doesn't have any degree in business, he knows how to handle one unlike some people that I know that have bachelors degree. But if you think about it, it must be in his blood after all his mother is Janet Drake, that woman is the scariest socialite in Gotham." And the screen turned back to the TikToker, "Dude doesn't have any degree yet get a praise from Lex Luthor? He is a genius I tell you." and with that the TikTok video ended.

It all started with that one video on how perfect and genius Timothy Jackson Drake. And it snowballed to edits, a thirst trap if you will, of Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. One TikTok video and the whole internet has been sleuthing every single picture, video of the new most eligible bachelor of Gotham City. And with that, #tim drake on TikTok have millions of views in span of 2 days. And it also doesn't help that Tim's life has been exposed in the different tabloids since he was a kid, being a member of a elite society especially in Gotham. He doesn't really know and care but with so many people doing a deep dives in his life, it kind of unsettling.

He scrolled again and it was a thirst trap edit. And he decided to exit the app, enough internet for the day.

"Timmmyy." Dick whined as he was begging Tim to make a TikTok account for 1, he can do those trends with Tim and two, he wants Tim to see those thirst traps edit of himself and it has been seven days straight. And Tim's patience has been wearing thin.

"I will, once I finished these reports." he said with no intention of doing it and gonna said that he forgot about it.

"No, do it now. I know your schemes, Timmy." Tim sighed with the insistence, "Then come back here later for you to remind me then."

++++++

"So, my brother Richard has been keep bothering me to make one of this account and apparently, many people tried to make a little clout so I am going to make one to gather all the clout." Tim said with a blank stare but let out a snort at the last part. "I will probably never upload anything again but yep, hope you are happy, Richard." and with that the video ended. 2 hours later after that video got uploaded, his account boomed to 2.3 million and his first video got featured in some internet forums and articles were being published online.

++++++

"And he finally succumbed to the Tiktok." Jason said as soon as he walked to his penthouse and Tim rolled his eyes.

"What are you doing here, oh mighty Jason?" Tim rolled his eyes, sarcasm is dripping to those words.

"I thought you are better than Dick but it seems like I was mistaken."

"Pot. Kettle. Just because I was on the side of edit Tiktok and you are in booktok doesn't make you the top. You are giving pick-me vibes, ngl."

"Did you really just said ngl instead of not gonna lie?"

"Did I stutter?"

++++++

Tim thought it will be cool if he just upload another Tiktok video after months of abandoning his account. He look at the trends and some old trends and he particularly got stuck in the transition videos and he took liking on the one audio edit of Jade West saying, "What's the prob, dog?", and he is a gremlin for a reason.

So, he was there chuckling at himself with the thought of the internet will never know what's gonna hit them.

+++++++

Tim likes to do a little bit of thirst traps in his content but he also like just to gave his audience what he does in his free time whenever he is done reading and signing the needed papers, like typing in his computer or solving a rubiks cube. And he keeps getting millions of views every time and it is such a ego boost for him.

But he also likes the videos with prominent people in United States, most is just him and Lex Luthor doing stupid shits and every time it will happen, both the stocks of WE and Lex Corp is going up and somehow that made both Tim and Lex being close yet hating each other so much.

The Justice League, specifically Superman, is very much annoyed and not happy about Tim's association to one of the prominent villains in the existence. But all Tim does is send them a lip sync video of him with the audio of, "Do I give a fuck? No, not one. How many fucks do I give? Zero. Exactly, so therefore your comment is irrelevant." And he called it a day. He is still fucking salty of about his worst year of his fucking life. He will not going to forgive those assholes when they didn't even apologise.

But somehow the limit of his TikTok freedom is having him doing a thirst trap in a form of being a femboy. Listen. Tim knows he will never be a brickhouse like Jason and Bruce but god forbid his BMI doesn't go up to 20 even in his peak body mass. He was always has been a twink and he also doesn't like that but apparently, that type of body is a perfect "bottom/submissive" material based on the different manhuas he having been indulge himself the past month.

++++++++

Dick was scrolling at his fyp page that was full of animals, gymnastics and Justice League edits - because, and he got in a video of a guy sitting on a red couch doing a simple transition of throwing his black shoe and then changing his casual fit to a more formal attire and it was a smooth transition on Dick's observation and he subconsciously goes to the comments because he wants a laugh at the thirsty comments.

Did anyone notice how smooth that transition is?

Lol, that is a big ass shoes

He is a mighty fine fella

WHY DOES NOBODY IS COMMENTING THAT THE ACCOUNT IS TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE-WAYNE?

Dick blinked once at that comment. And he blinked again. He closed the comments and swipe left. And the comment is right, it take him on Tim's verified account with now two videos.

When did Tim had a 5.6 million followers?!

Tim already on the same following count as him and he was still definitely gonna get more. Dick is now kind off regretting his decision if putting Tim in TikTok.

+++++++

The next month was shown that Tim doesn't have any schedule that follows his uploading, it seems like he upload wether he like. But the ones that broke the internet is the one thirst trap that Tim posted.

Ashley, look at me

Tim made the hand movements for the transition and from the Saint Laurent sweater, it is Jason's, Dick knows because he just saw Jason wear it like two days ago and it was paired with a black slacks and it turns into a oversized silk dress shirt and it looks like nothing underneath and Dick hopes that there is a boxers underneath because God forbids, he will delete Tim's TikTok account. In that video, it showcases Tim's long, pale, scarless legs, which is a fucking lie, he doesn't how Tim did it but that is a fucking lie. And oh boy was the comments are wild.

He is a sugar baby with the money of a sugar daddy

I'm straight but damn

yeah that's it, I'm bi now

I can hit that any time if he hit me up

Wait! I AM CONFUSED

Am I.. into this?

bottom vibes ngl

Dick stops reading the comments. TIM IS HIS LITTLE BROTHER! Sure he's nineteen but Dick felt uncomfortable looking at his brother's thirst trap, that he made himself. He immediately message Tim to stop posting thirst traps and Tim just reply with, 'Well, you have to face the consequences of forcing me to this damn app'.

He will be damned, he thought.

[eoieopda]

blindsided (myg)

After years of dating, you thought you had Min Yoongi all figured out - you didn't. And when he flipped the script on you, you never saw it coming.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader | Darksided AU Type: Sequel to darksided. Word Count: 6K Content: SMUT (18+ - Minors DNI,) established relationship au, POV switch, softbf!yoongi turned dom!yoongi, sub!reader, sex tape, oral sex (f receiving,) v fingering, p in v penetration, unprotected sex, squirting, multiple orgams, over-stimulation, spanking, biting, blindfold, praise kink, pussy slapping, general depravity, aftercare, fried chicken. A/N: Seriously, go read darksided (linked above) if you haven't yet. This takes place approx. two weeks later, and while the context isn't necessary, things will make more sense! Check out the playlist while you’re here. Tags: @exhibitachol @sstarryoong @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @miraculous-disaster @wakeupinahaze

For the first time in his life, Yoongi was avoiding his studio.

He had a mountain of work left to do on his mixtape – and, importantly, the drive to finish it – but that was precisely why he’d stayed away. Anytime he stepped foot inside over the past two weeks, his mind wandered far, far away from the task at hand. His previously unyielding discipline fell by the wayside the second he crossed the threshold.

Instead of focusing on the tracks he had yet to write, or perfecting the ones he'd already recorded, his eyes would roam over the surface of his desk on the other side of the room. It'd since been returned to its usual state, covered in various notebooks, and recording equipment. But it looked so much better with your bare, sweat-slicked body writhing on top of it.

And when he'd finally muster the willpower to look back at his computer, his gaze would pass over - and then jerk back to - the wall he’d pinned you against as his fingers fucked a river out of you. His blood pressure would spike as he pictured you there, relying on him to hold you upright, and any hope of accomplishing anything would drop dead on the floor.

The very same floor you’d fastidiously scrubbed to erase the mess he’d made of you, no less.

And then he’d think to himself: This isn’t a workspace anymore - it’s holy ground. 

Yoongi was running out of time, though, and he had to do his best to keep his mind on his work, off of you. Catching himself once again rewinding through recent memories, he let out a groan and forced his wandering eyes back to the screen in front of him.

He realized as he scrolled through his editing software that he’d done a piss-poor job of labeling his masters lately. This, of course, made it impossible for him to remember which track was which. On a whim, he chose the file in the middle of the folder and brought it up.

If he’d paid attention to the size of the file, he could’ve prepared himself for the consequences of pressing ‘play' - but he didn’t and he wasn't. 

“I really couldn’t love you more if I tried.” "Should I shut it off now until you're ready to start?" "I can cut it down. I do need you to cue the track, though - when I signal you."

Biting down hard on his bottom lip, he secured his headphones over his ears. He’d never been less interested in hearing his own music; so, without a second thought, he skipped over the next three minutes. As he did, his hand dropped down to palm his hardening dick through his jeans.

“Is it me, baby? Have I got you dizzy?”

Your little whimpers were barely audible in the recording, but they still managed to ignite a fire in the pit of his stomach. The blaze spread throughout his body when he pictured the way you looked below him then - so soft and shy, but with such carnal desire sparking in the dark of your eyes.

“I can’t give you what you want if you can’t tell me what that is.”

Anticipating your next line, his hand tensed around his cock. It was a pale imitation of that vice grip he found between your thighs, but it was something; and he would've taken anything.

“I don’t want you to be gentle with me. I - I know that you -”

Even caged between the walls of unimaginable heat, the irony of it all wasn't lost on him. The best recording he'd ever produced was created purely by accident -

“Stupid girl. You know nothing.”

- and it wasn't music at all.

“Get up.”

With Yoongi working hard on his creative pursuits, you begrudgingly committed to addressing your own. Like him, you had a to-do list long enough to circle the globe; but unlike him, you weren't buried in projects because you wanted to be. 

When Yoongi crossed off a task, he scribbled five more in its place. His mind never idled because he found inspiration everywhere. A half-remembered vignette from childhood that shook itself loose to become something beautiful. A word he encountered in passing that he’d transform into some modern-day epic. He generated this much work solely because his passion - like his potential - was limitless. 

To the contrary, you generated this much work because you were easily distracted. You’d start one project, and before you could finish it, your attention would flutter off on the wind like dandelion seeds. All those half-starts would stockpile until you eventually boxed yourself into a corner - and then, somehow, you'd keep stacking. 

Today's task was simple: you needed to transfer your recent photos from your camera's memory card to your laptop. Easy. Drag files from one folder to another, and then your contribution to this month's magazine spread would be finished. It should've only taken an hour - at most - for the upload to complete. 

Instead of doing what you intended, you ended up where you always did: happily lost in the weeds. This particular distraction was a folder from four years ago, when Yoongi took you on an anniversary trip to Paris. If you really had to defend this tangent, your scattered brain's game of word association wasn't far off - the photos you were supposed to tend to were from Paris Fashion Week. 

That counts for something, right? 

You snorted as you toggled through your archive. Had you taken a single photo of the stunning architecture, or countless historical sites you’d visited? Of course not. But you had snapped approximately one-hundred shots of an unaware Min Yoongi - buying you macarons; befriending a stray cat by an ATM; grimacing as he sipped wine you both hated but spent too many Euros on to waste. 

Wait, what were you supposed to be doing? 

Whatever it was, you’d swear up and down that you really did intend to finish it, but then you heard familiar, muffled footsteps. And then you felt the mattress dip slightly under the tops of your thighs and the elbows you’d propped yourself up on.  

And then the same Min Yoongi whose face beamed on your screen - slightly older, and even more adored - slid over the backs of your outstretched legs until his knees came to rest at either side of your ass. His body was warm as it loomed over you, but you shivered, nonetheless. 

Leaning in, he pushed your hair over your right shoulder and pressed a warm kiss into your left. Though he'd targeted an area several centimeters away from your spine, the aftershocks of this chaste contact rippled down its length. From there, the current divested and shot through each of your limbs, paralyzing you. 

You hummed and let your eyelids flutter shut. He ascended the arc of your shoulder, then your neck, leaving a smattering of kisses in his wake until the trail went cold. His quiet exhale tickled the skin below your ear, but he hovered in place - too far away. 

Reflexively, you whined and tilted your head to look at him. Effectively pinned, all you could do was survey his profile in your peripheral vision. “Baby?” You nudged. 

The hand he wasn’t using to hold his weight snuck under the hem of your tank-top and caressed the bare curve of your waist. His hypnotic ministrations on your side might’ve lulled you to sleep if you weren’t so intrigued by his so-far wordless affection. 

Thoroughly spellbound, your lids closed again while your lips remained parted. There was a moan building slowly in your chest, taking its time, but it was a gasp that tore out of you when his teeth nicked your lobe. His tongue was quick to soothe the pinch, and even quicker to solicit a mewl. 

You had no idea where this was coming from. Moreover, you didn't know what additional surprises this man was capable of. Though Yoongi had always been affectionate with you, he'd only recently unearthed some rare, raw sensuality that you never expected. In the time since this discovery, his touches became more frequent. You felt more of him underscoring each one, no matter how brief. 

The fingers skimming over your waist disappeared and left you cold, but before you could process the loss, they reappeared - lower now, pushing up the bottom of your underwear, and gripping the doughy cheek of your ass. Hard. Instantaneously, your hazy eyes re-opened. 

Min Yoongi truly contained multitudes. 

"Have I told you that you're my muse?" He purred into the shell of your ear as his hand massaged the skin he'd likely bruised.  

Enchanted once again, your sole response was a breathy moan. Only after his hand raised and smacked back against your ass did you realize he'd lulled you into a false sense of security. 

"When I ask you a question, I want an answer. Do you understand, baby?" 

Your shuttered breaths and accompanying nod weren't sufficient replies. His palm collided with your delicate cheek a second time, and it stayed there. The sting was muted by his fingers digging in and pinching; but it wasn't the pain that stole your attention. 

Instead, it was the wetness gushing between your clenched thighs when he whispered, "Use your words, angel." 

"I do," You muttered urgently, "I understand." 

The grip on your ass dissolved. You knew better now than to trust the warm hand kneading your cheek, but you couldn't resist moaning. Fuck - his touch was perfect. 

He contradicted the gentle caress below with a nip at your neck; and the kiss placed at that same spot preceded the true kill-shot. He hummed against your skin and your soul threatened to leave your body: 

"Good girl." 

The noise that escaped your mouth was stranded between a gasp and a cry. Oh, this man would be the death of you. 

"You inspired my next project today," He murmured between kisses to your neck. The tip of his nose was cold as it brushed across your skin and that disparity in temperature left you in shambles. "Not something I've done before -" He paused to suckle at your neck, no doubt leaving a mark when he released you, "And I need your help, baby." 

Another whimper escaped when his index finger snapped the elastic waistband of your boy-shorts; and you felt his mouth curve into a smirk. "I'll do anything -" You meant it. "Just - please, Yoongi, I need to feel you." 

"You will," His mirth left him in a breathy chuckle. It vibrated through your body and formed goosebumps as it went. "But not yet, angel. I want to savor this." 

Confused, you pouted - another exhaled laugh against your neck - and then, in a tiny voice, you asked, "What do you mean?" 

His hand slid up the back of your neck. With the base of your skull held gently captive between his thumb and middle finger, he guided you to turn your head to the left, then down. 

It didn't click right away. Silently, you blinked down at your camera. Is this what he wanted you to see? Why did - "Oh, no," you groaned as your head drooped forward. 

"Oh no?" He repeated, and though he tried, he couldn't hide the surprise in his tone. You quickly realized that he mistook your reaction for disinterest. He couldn't have been more wrong.  

Your sudden, complete deflation was simply your body buckling under the weight of unspeakable arousal. It anticipated the world-endingly perfect way he was about to fuck you; and it couldn't process the fact that it would all be memorialized. He really would be the end of you. 

Your head tilted until it rested against the side of his. "The memory card inside it is full, but there's a new one in my bag." 

Although you couldn't see it, you knew the corner of his mouth would twitch excitedly upwards at your words. At his, your mouth dropped open: 

"Any clothes you're still wearing when I come back to this bed will be ripped off. Got it?" 

It was difficult to tell which part of this exchange made your legs quiver the most: the stern warning itself; the contradictory soft, husky tone in which he said it; or the kiss the top of your head received when you responded - out loud - in the affirmative. He was gone before you could figure it out, making his way to the camera bag in the corner of your bedroom. 

He'd barely taken two steps when you frantically pulled your oversized tank-top over your head. It landed somewhere out of sight, and it was swiftly joined by your underwear - grey fabric soaked black. Your laptop was more carefully dismissed, tucked gently under the nightstand to avoid being ruined the way you were sure to be. 

When your head hit the pillow, your heart was already racing. Suddenly, you felt shy as you lay naked in your own bed, like you hadn't been in this position so many times before. There was a long-forgotten anticipation turning flips in your stomach. It bent your knees and brought your arms up to rest over your bare chest - you hadn't felt it since the very first time Yoongi saw you like this. 

As if he'd been summoned by your thoughts, Yoongi walked towards you with his focus trained on the camera in his hands. The tip of his tongue poked out through pursed lips as he carefully slotted the new memory card into the bottom, but it disappeared when the compartment clicked shut again.

He froze when he looked up at you, and your hammering heart threatened to make a break for it. 

"Baby," He was frowning. You raced to figure out which of his directions you failed to follow; but he interrupted the frenzy in your brain with that maddeningly soft, stern voice, "Why are you hiding?" 

Mouth open and poised to respond - with what, you weren't sure - you were cut off by the extended finger he raised to silence you. You clamped your jaw shut; his mouth curved ever-so-slightly at your quick compliance. 

See? You wanted to say, I'm learning! 

He removed the lens cap before his eyes flitted back up to you. "Hands above your head -" You did as he asked, though you didn't know where this was going. "- Close your eyes -" Again, you obeyed. "Don't move." 

And you didn't.  

You laid there with your eyes closed and listened for any sign of what was coming next. You could hear the muffled tread of his bare feet on the rug; and you expected further instructions - none came. Then you waited for any familiar noise from your camera - there was silence. But you smelled his cologne as he came closer, and the warmth you suddenly felt at your side told you that he’d reached you. 

“Lift your head up – but keep your eyes closed.” 

The eyebrow you raised in question was covered with some cool, silky fabric before Yoongi could have registered it. You received your answer in his actions. Gentle fingers adjusted the way the blindfold fell over your eyes, and then – even more gently – they tied a knot at the back of your head. Not too tight, but firm enough to keep it from slipping. It was no surprise to you that he’d handled this without disturbing a single hair on your head. 

His hands, once behind your head, now cupped your face. “You listen so well, angel,” He murmured before plush lips brushed against your forehead. “Lay back down the way you were.” 

Your head returned to the pillow and your elbows bent to allow your hands to meet above it. And you waited like that, trying to sense what his next move would be.

His footsteps padded off, and you figured he was seeking the best place to set up the camera. He paused, though, after only taking a few steps. The camera whirred – the auto-focus, you recognized immediately – and then it clicked. 

“So beautiful – you know that, don’t you? How stunning you are?”  

Click. 

“Perfect -” 

Click. 

“Mine” 

You couldn't help wondering how his photos would turn out. If your cheeks weren’t red under the blanket of his praise, it’d only be because you’d turned into a puddle. Your arousal had strayed far enough to slick the insides of your thighs, and if he didn’t touch you soon, you might liquify entirely and seep through the mattress to the floor. 

In the distance, plastic settled on wood. The strap affixed to your camera slithered over whatever surface he’d chosen; you could hear it slip over an edge, then it was silent. The bookshelf, you decided, third row from the top. Maybe second, if he liked the angle better? 

Without speaking first, he crawled up onto the foot of the bed. He paused there, likely kneeling in front of you. His hands slipped under your bent knees, and the only warning you got was him purring, “Come here,” mere seconds before you were pulled forward. You imagined that your gasp was still hanging in the air when you slipped out from under it. 

As soon as he was satisfied with your proximity, his hands found the insides of your knees and encouraged your legs to spread. “Now, baby -” He started, the heat of his breath indicating just how close his mouth was to your weeping cunt. “You’ll make sure the camera can hear you, won’t you?” 

The word was caught in your throat, suddenly bashful, but it eventually slipped out, “Yes.” 

You knew you’d failed as soon as you heard it, and you didn’t need to wait long to face the consequences. You jolted when his flattened fingers collided with your cunt - the sensation was a surprise, but the sound was what shocked you. Fuck! You could hear how wet he had you already.

Sodden, pooling, dripping. 

“Don’t be selfish, angel,” He tutted after withdrawing his touch from you, “Those sounds might come out of your mouth, but they don't belong to you, do they?” 

“No -” Your desperation was palpable when you responded with your whole chest. “They don’t. I – I won’t be selfish, I promise -” 

You cried out when he slapped your cunt a second time, an obscene chord formed by surprise, torment, and unbearable need.

“Whose are they?”

“Yours!” You choked, “They’re yours. I’m yours.” 

His arms hooked under your thighs and your pulse skyrocketed. “See? You are learning.” 

And then he lurched forward, flat tongue dragging upwards over your core with a pressure so perfect, your entire body tensed. He squeezed your legs harder when your back arched, and it prevented you from inadvertently slipping away from him.  

That devilish tongue swirled over your clit, and all you could manage was a whisper of a moan. He corrected you wordlessly, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs. The groan he pulled from you ricocheted off each one of your ribs on the way out. Satisfied, he hummed in approval against your cunt before he proceeded to flick dizzying circles over your increasingly sensitive bud; alternating paces in the way he knew would drive you mad.  

Both of your arms reached out, and your hands carded through his hair. You pulled him ever closer, which prompted him to shake his head furiously with the flat of his tongue pressed against your heat.  

“Oh, fuck!” you wailed. As much as you wanted to watch him, you knew that – even without the blindfold - the way his mouth moved so expertly against you would have made it too difficult to keep your eyes open. They were already covered, but you squeezed them tight enough to see stars as he suckled your clit. “Shit, baby – ah – feels so good.”  

The thread holding you together frayed further and further with every brush of his tongue against your most sensitive spot. The sound of his breathing, ragged and muffled with your thighs pressed harshly against the sides of his head, would have done unspeakable things to you - if your mindless gasping didn't threaten to drown him out completely.  

He shifted without removing his mouth from you, and he unhooked his right arm from under your leg. The heel of his hand glided up over your pelvis, your navel, and your breasts before stopping at the underside of your jaw. Two fingers tapped at your chin; you took the hint and took them into your mouth.

His tongue never let up on your clit as you slicked his fingers, suckling on them the way he did you. Once he was satisfied with the work you’d done, he pulled his hand back down to your cunt.   

Tongue still relentless at your clit, his middle finger swung the focus to your entrance, which was drenched by his saliva and your own slick. Meticulous and slow, he slid his finger inside of you. He moaned at the way you constricted around him; you melted. 

He never struggled to find that secret spot hidden behind your pubic bone. He'd proven time and time again that he was more in tune with your body than you were. Every curve, dip, and line had been committed to muscle memory.  

He could anticipate your reaction to every touch, even when those reactions varied based upon your mood or your energy level - and it was automatic. Unthinking but knowing. He teased this spot without mercy, and as he likely expected, you began to shake under his touch.  

The growing feeling in the pit of your stomach was one you knew he strived for. His favorite trick, once he knew the secret. And whenever you tried to resist – still uncomfortable with the way your body reacted to him – he gave you no choice. 

No poet could adequately describe how completely your orgasm consumed you. With the way you jolted against his mouth, he could’ve electrocuted you. You wriggled and writhed in his arms as you came, but he didn’t stop, even as your walls clenched around his fingers and your thighs pressed even more tightly against the sides of his head.

Your familiar moans devolved into some desperate sounds you’d never made before, curse words spilling out over your lips as you just kept cumming – but he still held tight to you as you bucked wildly in his arms.  

There was unbelievable pressure until there wasn’t.  

“Fuck, I love it when you do that,” He growled with his face nestled into your quivering, dripping inner thigh. His teeth nicked the skin but were swiftly replaced with a kiss from his ravenous, open mouth. “That’s my good girl.” 

He let you collapse back onto the bed, but he denied you any time to recover.  

“I think you can do it again, baby. What do you think?” He teased, alternating words and quick kisses along the interior of your thigh. “Should we see how much more you can take?”  

You babbled something in response, but neither of you could’ve interpreted what you meant. Your limp neck rolled to the side while you tried to catch your breath; there wasn’t time. You felt him coat his fingers in the remnants of your orgasm moments before he slid them inside of you and curled them upward.  

The combination of relentless pressure and a feverish pace dotted stars across the insides of your eyelids. Breathless, dangling at the edge of a precipice, you stammered, “Yoo-Yoongi -” 

Despite the obscene squelch of his ministrations, his voice rang through, clear as a bell. “What, angel? Do you want to come again?” Stupidly, you nodded, but he didn’t scold you. Given your fucked-out state, he seemed to forgive your mistake. “Then come.” 

The blindfold covering your eyes was black, but your vision went white. As you spasmed and gushed uncontrollably around his fingers, there was a moment where you could’ve sworn your soul ejected itself from your body. If it was floating above you now, it would’ve seen how thoroughly you’d drenched your boyfriend; and how perfect he still looked with your juices dripping off his chin. 

His weight was shifting at your feet when you returned to your body. It took everything you had, but you lifted one, limp arm out in his general direction. No words, just an outstretched hand begging to find him. When it did, he slotted his fingers perpendicularly under yours, rubbed the pad of his thumb over your knuckles, and kissed the top of your hand. 

“What color?” he murmured against your skin. 

You sighed softly, exhausted but not yet entirely spent, “Green.” You paused and chewed on your bottom lip. After a moment of quiet, you asked, “Yoongi?” 

“Yes, baby?” 

It was pitiful how your request barely rolled off of your tongue, but the answer would surely be no if you didn’t ask. “Can I see you?” 

He was silent for a moment – so, the answer would be no even though you did ask – but then you heard his soft chuckle. Even after he pulled the blindfold off, your eyes were useless. Somewhere in the bright white haze was Yoongi, though you couldn’t confirm that the shadow in front of you was truly him. Maybe you truly had died. 

Blinking furiously, you refused to stop until your eyes remembered how to focus. Slowly, slowly, slowly, the dark figure before you took a familiar shape. Shirtless, with damp, black waves clinging to his cheekbones – there he was. Concern was etched into his features, but his narrowed eyes relaxed when you shot him a smile. 

“Color?” You inquired with a squeeze of your hand. 

When he dropped your hand, your heart fell with it. But he sat up on his knees, placed that hand on your cheek, and captured your lips in a kiss. It was perfect, but it was torturously brief.  

“Green,” He replied. He backed away from you until he was standing at the foot of the bed. One hand dropped to his belt buckle while the index finger on his other hand beckoned you. 

You crawled towards him until his palm silently instructed you to stop. 

“Elbows on the mattress, ass up,” He ordered as he made short work of his belt. It slid easily through the loops of his ripped jeans and clattered as it hit the floor.

You leaned forward as he instructed, knees and elbows digging into the comforter you’d absolutely need to wash later – especially considering the way your mouth watered when his jeans and boxers were discarded and kicked aside. Were you drooling? 

Your body buzzed with anticipation as he crossed to the side of the bed. You wished he took his time sidling over to you, so your eyes could continue to devour his lean, snow-white frame; but if the stiff cock encircled by his hand was any indication, Yoongi wasn’t interested in wasting time. Instead, he pushed himself up onto the bed, out of sight, and the next thing you felt was his hand collecting your hair, pulling, and forcing your face up to the camera. 

His free hand squeezed your ass cheek when he said, “Eye contact, baby. Show the camera how I make you feel. Can you do that?” 

With his tip teasing at your entrance, you weren’t confident that you could – but you’d sure as hell try. “I can,” Your determination was clear, even if the voice conveying it wavered. “I will.” 

“Good girl,” He hummed. He released your hair and placed a kiss on the same shoulder blade he had earlier - when he last had you in this position. “Now, take a deep breath for me.” 

It wasn’t graceful, the way you sucked in air as he penetrated you; it was an unholy, strangled sound, and it crashed through the quiet like a wrecking ball. Every instinct begged your head to droop forward, and your back to curve up upwards, but you fought them off. Praise for your efforts tumbled out over your spine between Yoongi’s shuttered moans. His noises had you clenching around his cock, and the tightened grip of your cunt transformed them into something guttural. 

He paused when he bottomed out. Like you, he seemed to be at a loss for words. The hand gripping your hip was holding on for dear life; and the one curved over your shoulder kept you in place, allowing him to bury himself as deeply as possible.

He didn’t speak until he slowly started withdrawing himself from you, “I love the way you take me, how that tight pussy fights me whenever I leave.” 

As his cock dragged over your g-spot, your entire body shivered. He felt it and chuckled; you hiccupped, “Still so s-sensitive.” 

“Green?” 

“More -” You begged, “Please, baby.” 

You asked for it, but you weren’t ready for it. His hips snapped forward and drove him back into you before you could process what was happening. And when he kept up that ravenous pace, rutting over and over and over your detonator, it took everything you had not to explode.

All your willpower was spent trying to withstand his thrusts, though – nothing could keep you from collapsing forward onto the bed as your white-knuckled fingers gripped the comforter below. 

Before your body could fully settle over the mattress, his hand on your shoulder evolved into an arm hooking over you. He pulled you upright as his arm crossed over your heaving chest; he didn’t stop until he had you pinned to his. 

Fucking upwards into you with shallow, staccato strokes, he scolded you. “What did I tell you?” His hand dropped from your hip and dipped between your quivering thighs. His rapid thrusts didn’t falter as his middle finger began to assault your clit. “Hmm? What did I just say?” 

“Eye conta -”

The end of that word mutated into a scream. He snapped his hips forward so suddenly, you never anticipated being shoved off the edge of the world. Your orgasm ripped through you, shutting off your brain and forcing your entire body to convulse around him. 

You went limp when you fell from your high; Yoongi’s hold on you tightened to keep you from collapsing. Unrelenting, he just – kept – rutting. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

You wailed when that fourth wave crashed down over you. Caught in its riptide, you spoke in tongues; writhing and shrieking and imploding. Could a person die from coming this hard? 

Yoongi’s panting pulled you out of the abyss he’d thrown you in. “Shit,” He hissed, “I’m so close - fuck, you feel so good -” You felt it all over when he growled into your ear, “Tell me where you want it, baby.” 

You answered, but it was impossible for your hazy brain to know for sure if you’d replied verbally or telepathically. Either way, he understood – he always understood – and his break-neck speed was replaced by deep, deliberate thrusts. He groaned out your name as his cock twitched inside you, painting your walls white. 

The kiss Yoongi left in the crook of your neck didn’t wash away with the water cascading down over the two of you. You could still feel the uniqueness of its warmth, even in a cloud of steam - under the hot, heavy droplets hitting your skin.  

Your eyes were closed to avoid the conditioner he was massaging into your scalp, but your exhaustion was likely to keep them that way. The only reason you hadn’t slipped down the drain yourself was your unspoken refusal to be separated from him. Though, with that invisible string tying the two of you together, you’d never be able to stray very far, even if you wanted to.

“Can you tilt your head back, love?” 

This one was a request, not a command, and he made no effort to move it for you. The weight of your sleepiness caused your neck to roll more clumsily than you intended; it gave up, and your head bumped against his clavicle when it dropped backwards.

“Sorry,” you murmured, but he was already chuckling. “My motor skills seem to have clocked out early.” 

His laugh ricocheted off the tile. “You won’t need them,” He mused as his hands gently worked the remaining conditioner from your hair. “We can use mine.” Then he kissed the crown of your head, not once but twice. You could feel his smile spread against your scalp when you giggled. “All done, baby.” 

He’d taken his time with you; and he’d taken great care to clean – then kiss – every sore muscle he encountered. And when he was done, he used a large, plush towel to wick the lingering droplets from your skin. His hands on your waist steadied you as you stepped into a pair of sweatpants, and he smoothed the damp waves that you disrupted in unceremoniously tugging an oversized sweatshirt over your head. 

Once the two of you were fully dressed, he cupped your face in his hands, kissed you deep, and asked, “Do you need a lift back to bed?” His eyes sparkled at his joke – of course, he meant lift literally – and his eyebrow arched when you meekly shook your head. “I’m not sold. Is that your final answer?” 

You, once again, shook your head. He exhaled amusement through his nose at your indecision. Then, he placed his hands on your waist. Perfectly coordinated – as always – he lifted as you hopped, pulling you into his chest while your limbs wrapped around him. He carried you easily back into the bedroom and set you down gently on the bare mattress. 

All of your bedding was spinning in the washing machine on the first floor of your home, but he had a fluffy, full-sized throw waiting there for you. You held up one side of it, silently inviting him to join you. When he settled at your side, your head ducked down and came to rest under his chin. As soon as his arm curled over your back, your heavy lids finally closed. 

You were both quiet, one foot in a dream, when the growl of his stomach startled you both awake. Erupting into laughter, you each craned your neck to see the other beaming back. 

He wiped the mirth pooling in the corner of his eye and sighed as his laughter petered out, “Delivery from that fried chicken place?” 

“Oooh, yes, please.”

A/N: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! The response to the first post was so incredibly overwhelming, I simply had to write a follow-up. I might continue to add one-offs to this darksided cinematic universe (lol) simply because I love their relationship dynamic. And the sexual journey they seem to be on, hahahah. Please leave feedback so I know what you liked and what you didn't! Also, lmk if there’s something you’d want to see in any possible future installments 👀

[kinda-indecisive]

｡･:*:･ﾟ Your Journal ﾟ･:*:･｡

How I imagine the reactions of the LaDS guys when they accidentally find a notebook you (MC) decorated the cover of with their name.

Part 2: The Xavier and Sylus Edition!

.���*¨`*•.•*¨`*•.☆.•*¨`*•.•*¨`*•.☆.•*¨`*•.•*¨`*•.•*¨`*•.☆.•*¨`*•.•*¨`*•.☆.

Xavier

~ ~ There’s nothing weird about it at all ~ ~

You found yourself spending time with Xavier on your days off lately, so naturally you’d grown used to his frequent cat naps during your time spent together. That’s why you didn’t mind when he'd dozed off at the table in the bookstore, leaving your backpack with him to use as a pillow as you browsed the shelves for your next book to share.

You also didn’t think much of the hazy little smile on his face when you’d returned to him, his expression still sleepy and content.

As you went from the bookstore to the restaurant for lunch you did start to grow suspicious by the excessive amount of pats he was giving you. Timid little pets on the top of the head that you first accepted with delight, slowly turning your cheeks hot with embarrassment after the thousandth pat within the hour.

Having stopped at the park to enjoy the sun’s warmth for a little while, you finally mention it.

“You’ve been extremely touchy today.”

“Does it bother you?” he inquires, a hint of concern around his eyes. You quickly reassure him that it doesn’t bother you so much as it embarrasses you. You typically enjoyed when he showed his affectionate side, but today it had all seemed a little excessive.

Hearing this admission, he falls silent, his chin resting on his palm as he looks out at the grass, watching the people in the park with a casual interest.

Though he doesn’t seem hurt, you worry he might have misconstrued what you said.

“What are you thinking about, Xavier?”

He hums softly, continuing to enjoy the sounds of the park. When he finally decides to answer, he turns toward you with his eyes averted and a sheepish look on his face.

“Honestly? I saw your journal today. In the bookshop. I was sneaking some stickers I bought you into the pocket when I noticed your little doodle of a shooting star and a fluffy little bunny. It was cute, so I pulled it out to take a picture of it and saw my name written all over it.”

Your face grows warmer and warmer the more he talks and, by the time he meets your gaze, you look away, covering your face in humiliation.

“You weren’t supposed to see that! That’s so embarrassing!”

You’re surprised when you feel his fingers slide between your palm and your face, gently pulling your hand away so he can see your face, “Embarrassing? What’s so embarrassing about it? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Stunned for a moment, you shake off your surprise and nod, “Of course we are.”

“Then I don’t think it’s weird at all that we think about each other when we’re apart,” he says, his voice a resolute hum as he turns away again, a sleepy smile returning to his face as he watches a bumblebee buzz by.  

.•*¨`*•.•*¨`*•.☆.•*¨`*•.•*¨`*•.☆.•*¨`*•.•*¨`*•.•*¨`*•.☆.•*¨`*•.•*¨`*•.☆.

Sylus

~ ~ Of course he’s going to tease, even if his cheeks are also flushed with a silly sense of satisfaction ~ ~

You arrived at his place looking disheveled and flustered, a look he typically enjoyed on you, though obviously concerning in tonight’s situation. You had somehow managed to shake off Mephisto’s watch and ventured somewhere on your own. Knowing you, he doesn’t like to imagine where you might have gone. And your flustered expression as you walked through his doorway and tossed your duffel bag to the floor left him concerned and in want of an explanation.

An explanation you were stubbornly unwilling to give him.

Instead, you insisted you needed a shower. Like most things, he found it hard to deny you that right. You could tell he was bothered, however, by the way he waved you away without looking at you.

Still, you had the gall to keep him waiting.

Certain that you were testing his patience on purpose, he takes matters into his own hands. He’s holding your duffel bag in his lap with a bored expression when you return.

“Excuse me? What are you doing with my things?”

“You continue to poke around the N109 zone without a care in the world despite witnessing the dangers firsthand. You could at least allow me the reassurance of Mephisto’s watch. Yet you refuse and act coy about it when I ask nicely. You’ve given me no choice but to take matters into my own hands.”

With a bored expression, he reaches into your bag.

You call his bluff.

“Fine. Search all you like, you won’t find anything in there.”

His searching hand pauses for a moment as he gives you a dangerous look. Then, with an exasperated sigh, he removes his hand from the bag and tosses it back to the floor.

Feeling guilty, you suddenly have the urge to tell him a bit of the truth. However, his sudden change in posture as he lowers himself back toward the bag surprises you.

Heat fills your face immediately when you catch sight of what has caught his attention. Of what he so delicately lifts between his fingers and hangs in the air between the two of you.

“My my… what is this, kitten?” he asks, his voice a low rumble and a chuckle.

You dive toward him, but your bathrobe prevents you from performing any other rapid or complex movements. Besides, it’s not easy to take anything from Sylus’s hands in the first place.

“It’s nothing.”

“It definitely looks like something,” he persists, “Tell me, is that supposed to be Mephisto in the right hand corner? He’ll be delighted to see his likeness.”

“Sylus, hand it over. I’m not kidding.”

He allows you to snatch the notebook away from him and you clutch it close to your chest, obstinately stepping away from him and turning your back on him as you leave the room.

You return to the room a moment later to find him sitting where you left him, a smug smile on his face when you enter. You intend to scold him, but are surprised when you see the flush in his own cheeks that he quickly hides by clearing his throat into his hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I randomly had this thought a few months ago when I first started playing, but I hadn't really met Sylus in game yet, so I had to wait until I knew him better to share these. Hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading!

Part 1: Zayne and Rafayel Edition

[starsstuddedsky]

Slice of Love

Haechan x reader

summary: birthday cake and boyfriend material

genre: fluff, non idol au, not really angst but haechan is so dramatic

warnings: swearing, food/dessert, i dont know anything about art, pls lmk if i missed any

wc: 1.8k (who is she???)

a/n: finally wrote something short and sweet :) it's been so long since i've done that lol. this is heavily inspired by 7dream cafe cake-making and my full belief that none of these boys should be unsupervised in the kitchen. thank you to @chocolatemilk139 for being my beta as always <3 (even though you didnt edit anything smh)

It’s not horrendous.

Donghyuck stares at the cake in front of him. The process started well: he made the tester cake last week week that the council (also known as his friends) approved with generous support (“wait, what’s actually kind of good,” from Jeno, “it’s edible,” from Renjun, “the hint of orange really sells it,” from Jaemin, “it’s not burnt so it’s already better than anything I could make,” from Mark, “you didn’t buy this?” from Chenle, and Jisung, who just stared at him with wide eyes). 

No, the problem isn’t the batter. He slaved over it all last night and chose the two cakes that rose most evenly in the oven. Everything but his tears went into making them. 

“Wow,” Renjun says, leaning over the counter. “You fucked up.” 

Donghyuck smacks him, leaving a trail of lavender buttercream on the wool sweater. 

“Hey, that’s going to be a bitch to get out!” Renjun cries. 

“Cry me a river,” Donghyuck says, “which is a good song, but also, you deserve it. It’s not that bad.” 

Renjun raises his eyebrows but Donghyuck raises a spoonful of extra frosting. Renjun backs off. 

Despite his strong defense, Donghyuck fears Renjun may be right. Though the cake stands tall, crumbs mix in with the frosting on the sides. What was supposed to be an artistically plump edging around the base of the cake and around the top corner looks like it exploded out of the piping bag (because it did, popping the cap off several times). In his head, the center would be filled with flowers and hearts and all sorts of pretty shapes in all sorts of pastel colors—but by the time he got to the center, he’d fully given up on piping bags, meaning he had to get creative for the flowers. Instead of flowers, he made blobs of frosting pushed off a spoon. In some spots he accidentally mixed the colors together, a green one shade away from brown, not at all like the field in the pictures on his Pinterest board. 

Jeno appears next, wandering out of his room. He misses Renjun’s warning glare, though Donghyuck doesn’t. He steps right next to Donghyuck, tilting his head. “What is this supposed to be again?” 

“What do you think?” Donghyuck asks evenly. 

Oblivious or uncaring, Jeno pauses to ponder. “A really ugly version of Shrek’s swamp?” 

“Get out.” 

“Get out of ma’ swamp!” Jeno attempts a Scottish accent, authenticity as questionable as the flower field in Donghyuck’s cake. Jeno retreats with Renjun on the couch, dodging Donghyuck’s frosting spoon. It would be a waste of the delicacy on his stupid dri-fit t-shirt, which he wears even when he doesn’t work out. 

“It’ll be fine,” Jaemin says. “It’ll taste good, which is the important part.” He sits at the counter, the only one to offer moral support while Donghyuck decorated. But his attempts at comfort are in vain; Donghyuck doesn’t just want the cake to taste good, he wants it to taste perfect, to look perfect, for all of it to be perfect. It’s the least you deserve. 

Donghyuck ignores the banging on his door, letting one of the guys let Chenle and Jisung in (no one else would threaten to break down a metal door instead of waiting the five seconds it takes to unlock the door). 

“We come bearing food!” Chenle shouts, plastic bag singing in his hand as Jisung follows precariously carrying a stack of pizza boxes. Far more food than needed, but Donghyuck won’t skimp out on you. Chenle tosses his bag full of snacks on the table, crossing the room to see the ‘masterpiece’ Donghyuck spent the past week hyping up. 

“Dude, are you seriously going to give that to YN?” 

“Are you trying to get dumped?” Jisung asks. “Ow!” he cries when Chenle smacks him. 

“Your welcome,” he says, “though he sort of has a point, that looks like literal shit.” 

“Does it really?” Donghyuck pouts. 

Chenle points at one of the browner spots. “You’re telling me that’s not a piece of shit?” 

“They were supposed to be flowers.” 

Jaemin, Renjun, and Jisung manage to cover their laughs as coughs but Chenle and Jeno let out a bark of laughter. 

“Yeah, you’re screwed,” Chenle says, clapping him on his shoulder that sags even lower than his normal bad posture. “You could call Mark and get him to pick up a cake on his way.” 

“He’s bringing YN,” Donghyuck says glumly. “Besides, I already told YN that I would make it myself. I’m not going to be a failure and a liar.” 

“It’s really not that bad,” Jaemin says, ignoring the chorus of dissent from the rest of the guys. “It’ll taste good!” 

Donghyuck shrugs. He can’t explain it, at least not so that they can understand him. He knows perfection is a subjective definition that he’ll never be able to fulfill but he strives for it anyway. If it isn’t perfect then why would he do it at all? Even if it’s his first time attempting this level of artwork, he should at least be able to make something that looks okay, or recognizable. 

And you—you deserve more than a dry store-bought mess and more than a half-assed attempt at love. You’ve only been together for a couple months but he’s determined to prove himself. A birthday was the perfect opportunity, even when you’ve known him for years and spent plenty of birthdays with him. This was his chance to show you the boyfriend material he’s made of, except instead of black velvet or creamy silk, Donghyuck thinks this cake is the work of a neon yellow polyester shirt worth less than $2 at the thrift store. 

“Mark just texted that he just parked,” Jaemin announces. He glances at Donghyuck. “You ready?” 

Donghyuck glances at himself. His hands are covered in frosting that’s dried and crusted, spread up his arms. His Kiss the Chef apron protected his shirt and most of his pants from the damage, but the mess is the least of his concerns. There’s nothing he can do about the disaster (he’s given up calling it anything else) in front of him. Shrek’s Swamp or a toilet bowl, it’s definitely not a flower field and it’s definitely not what you deserve. But it’s all he’s got. 

The final punch hits with a gentle knock at the door. Donghyuck crosses the room to his doom, stepping past his silent friends who bow their heads in respect for the walking dead. He pulls open the door slowly. He sees your shoes first, white sneakers you spent three hours with a Sharpie decorating, full of hearts and stars and unmistakable flowers—daisies and chrysanthemums and lavender, more than he can name. 

You wear your favorite jeans, loose bootcut that tighten at the thighs, hugging you in all the right places. A loose shirt hangs from your shoulders, one of the bands you always play for him with lots of bass and visceral lyrics that romanticize suffering. A family of silver earrings dangle from your ears, and he recognizes each of your favorites, the miniature swords, sparkling star shaped studs, a curly twist of metal that wraps around the higher part of ear. You look perfect. 

Donghyuck has always loved the way you smile, a gentle turn of your lips, like the happiness belongs to only you. You lean forward, pressing a short kiss to his lips, a peck more than anything. Donghyuck stares at you, eyes wide. You gesture to his apron. “Just following the rules.” 

He smiles though it fades as soon as he sees the frosting–no, the evidence of his failures, spread down the black fabric. “Happy birthday,” he says, wishing he could put more heart into it. A tiny frown furrows in your brow but you don’t question him. 

He steps back to let you walk in, trailing behind you as the rest of the guys wish you happy birthday. Mark catches up easily, clapping a hand on his shoulder, whispering, “Jeno sent me a picture.” 

Renjun hugs you, which Donghyuck belatedly realizes he never did. 

“I brought the food,” Chenle announces. “Don’t go thanking anyone else for my efforts.” 

“Our,” Jisung corrects. “You barely even carried anything.” 

“That’s because I had to drive,” Chenle says, waving his hand. “And don’t even get me started on the pizzeria, you better appreciate every molecule because—”

“Thank you, Chenle,” you say. 

“Thank me,” Donghyuck says. “It was my detailed instructions that perfected absolutely everything about today, which reminds me, did Mark behave?” 

You turn back to face him, linking your fingers with his. “Yes, babe, he followed your script. He almost cried because the barista messed up the order and he didn’t want to be annoying but he said you said ‘if anything goes wrong, I’ll kill you,’ and meant it.” 

“And I did,” Donghyuck says. He nods at his best friend for his service. 

“Now.” You squeeze his fingertips. “Where’s this cake you’ve been so excited about.” 

Donghyuck doesn’t try to hide his face. There’s no use delaying the inevitable. He lets go of your hands, leading you to the crime scene to lay the final verdict (the judicial system of his brain is in need of some reformation). 

You reach the counter and freeze. A list of concert dates greets Donghyuck, your back facing him while you study the cake. There’s no name for the opposite of a masterpiece, no artist that wants their worst creation recorded in history. 

He inches closer to you, peeking at your face. He recognizes the expression, the narrowing of your eyes, the way you flatten your lips. He’s been to enough art shows and spent enough time with you studying for art history to know what you analyze art. 

“It’s not Van Gogh or Monet,” he says, “it’s not even that asshole guy who made the Bean.” 

“Mm,” you hum, “no, you’re not any of them.” 

“It’s an ugly cake,” he says, “I know. I tried, I really did, but apparently you actually do need a decade or two of experience to make a decent cake, which is totally unfair, like, I spent more time on it than my research project, and this only looks marginally better than that.” 

“It’s amazing,” you say, “reminiscent of the expressionist era.” 

“Really?” 

“No,” you say, turning to grin at him. “But you made it, so none of that matters. Maybe it doesn’t look like what you thought, but seriously.”  You rest a hand on his arm. “It’s perfect.” 

He meets your eyes, sees sincerity and not an ounce of teasing. No, it wasn’t what he wanted for you, but that doesn’t really matter. Perfection is subjective and to you it’s perfect—why did he ever think it wouldn’t be? 

He grins. “Perfect?” 

You step closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him into a hug, ignoring the frosting that must be smearing across the band member’s faces. 

“Perfect.” 

a/n2: thank you for reading! as always, i appreciate any feedback :)

[trojanteapot]

Infinity Train Boots!

Made these a while back as part of my Simon cosplay, must have been almost a month, but I didn't post the process!

(EDIT: hey I did some fixing up of my cosplay which you can see here in this post!)

Not actually sure if anybody would care because it's so niche, unlike my Spider-Gwen suit, but I did write about how I did the Infinity Train harpoon pack, so I'll discuss this too!

STEP 0: Acquire reference pictures:

Yep, pretty straightforward.

Note that Simon's boots have an extra bar/strap thingy, whereas Ryan and Min-Gi's do not.

I didn't include it because it kinda looks ugly and I didn't know how fragile the strap might be.

NEXT!

STEP 1: Acquire Boots!

I got these MIA boots from Journeys Canada. They only cost around 60 bucks which is a bit pricey for cosplay, but I'm not about to go thrift shopping when I'm in a time crunch and I can just order online and get free delivery within 2 days. (Also these days 60 bucks for boots from a retail store is considered cheap. Inflation is nasty.)

They came with these cardboard thingies inside to keep the structure of the boots. They have "left" and "right" written on them in Chinese which was helpful for me when I got a bit confused about which side was which.

Save those for later. You'll need them.

STEP 2: Paint the soles silver

Literally any acrylic silver paint works. May take several layers. Make sure to put masking tape around the top edge of the soles.

I didn't use a primer on the base but you probably should. Any white acrylic paint or Gesso would do and you wouldn't need like 8 coats of silver. Do as I say not as I do.

And make sure to seal everything with a varnish or mod podge!

Here are also the cut toe caps and some silver craft foam. The craft foam was kind of a mistake I'll get into it soon.

STEP 3: Make toe caps

Here's me making sure the placement is good.

I glued the craft foam onto the cardboard caps, and then I was thinking "well the little bit hanging over it isn't going to be a problem, nope! I'll just glue them down and it'll blend right in!"

HAHAHAHA. WRONG.

STEP 3.1: Fuck up the toe caps because you were winging this and you have no idea how crafting materials work you idiot

GROSS. DISGUSTING. VILE.

The hot glue melted the craft foam and now it's got this weird melty edge all around it that's all goopy and shit. Anyway you dont want your boots to look fucked up, you want them to look smooth like polished steel, or whatever they were made of in the show.

STEP 3.2: Fix toe caps

Everything can be fixed with Model Magic and acrylic paint! (and seal your paint with a sealant again!)

I just took some model magic (a type of lightweight air dry clay from Crayola, the cheapest you can get. Other more legit craft supply brands make similar materials as well), and squished it into the ugly bits, making a mostly seemless transition from craft foam to clay to sole.

TIP: to make model magic smooth before sanding, dab your fingers in some water to smooth it out! This also works for Paperclay as well if you decide to use a more higher end type of air dry clay.

STEP 4: Make the back metal thing that goes around the heel

So I did this kinda in tandem with the toe caps which is why the pics will look a little out of order but essentially, I took the parts of the cardboard that I cut off, and I cut them in half, put some other cardboard in between, and then sandwiched the thing in metallic craft foam.

This time it was a bit more successful because I was able to hide the weird gross melted edges on the inside. Also paint that shit silver!

Now you can glue the "heel caps(?)" directly to your boots, but I decided to use stick-on velcro instead so they're kinda removable, and may be easier to transport or clean or something? ehhh.

STEP 5: Make those handle things

So I also hit a bit of a snag with these. I ordered EVA foam dowels with a semi-circle cross-section as well as a triangular one, but I quickly realized they would be too flimsy sticking out like that unless I put something hard in between them.

So this isn't pictured, but I got some thin crafting wire from Dollarama and just bent them into L shapes, and glued the smaller dowels around them. I also shoved them into the bigger down and glued it down.

You can also see from these pictures that that leaves a weird gap in between the smaller dowels. Again I just used model magic to cover them up. There's probably a better solution but this was the one I went with.

I also lengthened the top "handle" part eventually because it looks better that way. (Please ignore the mess on my desk >_<)

Then I just paint them silver like everything else!

COMPLETE!

The nut and bolts are actual nuts and bolts. Since the base was just craft foam and cardboard, you can poke a hole in them easily and insert the bolt.

Hope you found this helpful! Or are just willing to indulge me and my notes on my silly crafting journey!

[borninwinter81]

Another t-shirt mod

Because it's impossible for me to buy a shirt without doing something to make it more interesting 😁

Vampire is a Swedish thrash/death metal band, but although they were formed in 2011 they have a very old-school sound, more like death metal was back in the 80s. Slight shades of Black Metal too, but again in its earlier Bathory era form. Originally their material was only released on cassette and vinyl, and they were one of the first modern bands I came across that did that. I've been a fan since their first EP, and I have a tattoo of their logo, but only just managed to get one of their shirts.

I would usually get a man's/unisex, but on this occasion I got the "girlie" fit. It originally looked sonething like this (official website photo as i didn’t take a picture before I started messing with it).

However the print was way lower on the body than is shown here. I've mentioned before that I dislike the look of low waisted shirts on me, so I usually crop them. However in this instance as there was so much space at the top what I did instead was cut the length from there, re-sew the shoulders and re-shape the neckline (removing the sleeves at the same time).

At that point although it *just* fit it was a little too tight to be comfortable, probably because I'd moved the original waistline up my body so it was sitting around my ribcage. I had some of this extra wide lace trim that I bought ages ago on sale for pennies.

I cut up the side seams and sewed a panel of this down each side.

This meant it fit perfectly in the chest, however it was now slightly too loose in the waist area. I have quite a v-shaped upper body with a wide chest and shoulders and a narrow waist from having been a weight lifter for a few years!

But, rather than taking in the sides again, instead I did a cut and weave on the back, but I only wove the bottom part, just leaving plain slashes at the top. This pulled in the shirt slightly at the waist area and now it fits perfectly! I like my shirts fitted without being *tight* tight.

There are tons of tutorials for doing cut and weave stuff on youtube, this was a really basic one.

I hope this might have given folks a few ideas if you have a shirt you love that is too tight for you. Any fabric could be used for the side panels, I just used the lace because I had it to hand and it works with the overall style. I would say a slightly stretchy fabric is probably better for this kind of mod though.

I'll sign off by sharing a track by Vampire, the first one I ever heard which I got on a random YouTube recommendation. Since I love Vampire related stuff and extreme metal I had to give it a try, and was really glad I did.

The name makes them a little difficult to search up online, so if you're interested here's their bandcamp 😉 You can also try searching "Vampire the band" or "Vampire metal band Sweden".

Edit: I should have also included the t-shirt link: right here, it is official not knock-off as I found it via their instagram. There is slightly different merch here than what is available on their bandcamp:

[mumms-the-word]

A sneak peak!

I’m not one to like…pat myself on the back for good writing because good writing is subjective anyway but I’m a little obsessed with this moment in the upcoming chapter of my masquerade fic soooo

just wanted to share an angsty moment for y’all who might be interested 😌 warning tho I haven’t edited it fully because I’m still working on finishing the chapter lol

~*~*~

She whirled and ran to the larger mirror in the room, the one that took up nearly a whole wall of the gallery. This was the mirror where she’d seen that woman, instead of her own reflection. She pressed her hands onto the glass, staring hard at it, almost through it, her eyes nearly crossing with her efforts to shift the perspective of the reflection.

Everything looked the same. The paintings depicted in reverse, the room empty except for her and the green-clad Gale and the woman who was watching her with a guarded expression. But Dani continued to look, desperate for a sign that she wasn’t crazy.

She saw movement in one of the doorways. A figure stepped into the room, looking around, and when Dani looked over her shoulder, there was no one in the doorway behind her. She turned her attention back to the mirror just in time for the figure to step into the light of candles.

“Gale!” She practically screamed his name. She pressed her hands harder against the glass, as if by sheer will she could sink through it to the other side. “Gale! Can you hear me? Gale!”

She banged on the mirror, the glass shuddering beneath her fists. In the reflection, her Gale, clad in blue and purple, owl mask glinting in the candlelight, stepped further into the room, seemingly unaware of her. She called out his name and banged on the mirror again. But it was no use. Nothing she said or did drew his attention.

“What the hells?” Behind her, the other Gale and the half-elven woman drew closer, staring in shock and alarm at the mirror. “Is that—me?”

“Yes that’s you,” Dani snapped. “That’s my you. And he can’t fucking hear me! Gale!”

She stopped as she saw him turn his head toward her, toward the mirror. He stepped over, frowning and examining the glass, his dark eyes trailing over almost every inch from the top of the frame down toward where her face stared out at him.

In the reflection, he seemed to be standing just behind her shoulder. Dani lowered one hand from the mirror, reaching into the space behind her to try and take his hand.

But her hand only met empty air.

“Gale,” she mumbled, her throat closing up. “Please, look at me. Tell me you see me, please.”

But he only continued to frown and study, his eyes roving slowly over the surface, passing over her several times without seeing her. Finally, after a long moment, he took a few steps back and started to turn away.

Another figure burst into the room from the same doorway he’d entered from: Karlach, in her black dress and thick leather boots. She leaned into the room, holding onto the doorframe with one hand. When she spoke, her voice was silent, but Dani could read her lips easily.

Any luck? she asked. The blue-clad Gale shook his head, turning away from the mirror. Karlach swore and straightened up. We’ll keep looking. Don’t worry, Gale. We’re gonna find her.

They left together through the magic show room, never once glancing Dani’s way.

~*~*~

anyways have a picture of Dani and Gale as thanks/reward for reading lol

[tiikerikani]

Throwback Not-Thursday (2012 v 2024)

Gerrin Goblinkicker, Dwarf Hero (sculpted by Bob Olley)

This was the last figure I painted before starting up again in 2020.

I'm known to be insufferably/irredeemably stuck in the past, so unlike normal people who might strip and repaint their earlier figures, I painted a whole other copy. This dwarf figure is still in production, so I didn't need to wrangle one from eBay at stupid prices. I even happened to have a matching base (they had come in a 3-pack and I still had the other 2—these are discontinued).

On the old version the middle of the shield is just off-center if you look at the model from that corner and it just feels like something is wrong. For the new version I decided to place him along the diagonal of the base instead of the side. I think this way it is clearer which direction he's facing—though it's actually the feet that are aligned to the diagonal and not his face, so it's still kind of off.

I considered painting a whole pattern onto the shield instead of leaving it plain wood, but I didn't want it to be too different from the old version, so I just changed the shield boss to brass/bronze for contrast.

I had placed him too far forward too; I think I was trying to center the feet on the base instead of the figure overall.

I used the same static grass from a plastic film container of it that I got from somebody. I have no memory of where it's from and this is the only figure I have that uses it. I wonder if it's from 2000/1 when I'd just learned to paint, since a pinch of grass on the base appears to have been typical on Warhammer figures from that era. Maybe I used it on Battletech figures I painted for my classmates at $5 a pop. Anyway, it sits on a bed of green stuff instead of a thick layer of PVA glue (which shrinks so you'd need a lot of it to fill up the hollow base, but that's how I did things back then. didn't know any better).

Recipes

The base blue paint on the old model was Ral Partha's Dragon Blue (highlights in Sky Blue). I still have the Dragon Blue pot and wanted to use it but the paint doesn't stick to the primer anymore so I guess it's dead. It's a bit drowned in black wash on the 2012 model, and here's what I did on the new one:

Speedpaint Beowulf Blue (as you do because, you know, vikings). I didn't shake it enough so it came out a bit purple

Thin layer of Ultramarine Blue

Wet blend Wolf Grey into Ultramarine for first highlight

Gorgon Hide for second highlight

The green base was a bit trickier since the Army Painter Warpaints do not have a match for it (maybe the new Fanatic line does, dunno). But I made it work with a solid coat of Greenskin and then Speedpaint Shamrock Green (the latter of which is a decent match).

P.S. The old Ral Partha Bronze paint is really more of a brassy color. It's not orange-ish at all.

Bonus: Super-black background tutorial (kind of)

When you take the photos, use a sheet of black velour / flocking as the backdrop; Green Stuff World sells these in various sizes but the material is originally used in other things that need to be super dark, like telescopes, so you can probably find it in places where astronomy stuff is sold.

You'll never get all the dust and speckles out of it with a tape roller so just remove as much as you can.

Editing the pictures—I use GIMP:

(Optional) Crop your image. You can do it now, or at the end like I do.

Adjust levels and do color corrections as needed.

Fuzzy select the black area around the figures. 10% tolerance worked for me, but go lower if the figures are dark. You want to avoid picking up parts of the miniatures.

Invert the selection.

Copy and paste to a new layer and put it at the top. This layer will be transparent and contain just the figures and a lot of dust speckles.

Create a new white layer and put it under the transparent layer. Now you can see all the speckles against the white background.

Clean up background with eraser tool.

Hide the white layer and create a black layer. (Or just put the black layer above the white one.)

Clean up any stray dust with eraser tool.

If fuzzy select was overzealous and took out too much (you can flip the solid layers on and off to check), copy/paste those areas back in from the original picture.

[vertumnanaturalis]

A lot of people seemed to like my last one, so woe! More fic ideas be upon all ye again; compilation of au ideas I posted in LQ and haven't been edited to be easier to read edition!

(below the cut, because theres like 12 of them and its a big messy mess)

Nem?Tang fic where they wake up in some ancient convergent domain plant device with only hazy memories of how they got there but nothing solid enough to work off of, and also why is their hair so long, and where are their clothes, and where is the goddamn colony? Because oopsie daisy! it seems that somebody put them in the ancient alien magitech healing goo and forgot to take them out when they were done, and now two hundred years have passed and everybody else they know and love are long dead, and also apparently some giant ass fleet of earth guys tried to land while they were having a snooze but! oh! whoopsie! yet again! somebody sent them the wrong information about how to safely get through the wormhole and the majority of the fleet did not make it to the surface in one piece!!! and the some of the survivors may or may not have folk stories about people that may or may not be Nem and Tang’s loved ones doing either great or terrible things during those two hundred years they were sleeping through!!

mermaid au where Besk was a mermaid trapped in a research facility and Instance broke her out during her ecoterrorist days but Besk couldn’t go back to the ocean because (hand waves) so she stayed with Instance as a slightly-more-free test subject who could technically come and go as she pleases, and she did, and eventually came back from one of her outings with two whole goddamn babies, and despite their both their hopes both babies seem to be pretty much normal human babies except for the occasional weird non-human thing, like eating whole raw eggs or Tangent having an overnight sex change shortly after saying she’s a girl, and feeling like she’s the only mermaid left in the world eventually leads Besk to doing the same thing she always does, and now Instance is stuck with two ambiguously half-human grieving kindergartners, and now it’s the world’s words hybrid of Wolf Children and The Thirteenth Year (with a mild dose of human experimentation sprinkled on top)

modern day/modern-ish all humans on earth au fic where Sym is a pre-school teacher(or aid??) who just moved to a new town with his beloved edgelord of a boyfriend who never wants to talk about his past or childhood and Sym only knows bits and pieces that he’s mentioned over the past few years (but that’s fine he’s just got his secrets nothing new there), and at his new job with his new class there’s a young single parent of twins that also moved into town only a little bit after he did, and apparently they don’t have anybody in their life besides their kids, they don’t have any family and the kids dad isn’t in the picture, so he does the nice friendly thing and offers to lend a hand if they need help with anything, and one afternoon as he’s supposed to be leaving work after making sure that the kids are all picked up, he spots said single parent and said beloved edgelord talking/arguing about something, because apparently they used to know each other but haven’t seen each other in a long while, and his boyfriend doesn’t wanna hear what “actually super important and kinda immediately relevant” thing that his old friend wants to talk about, and before Sym can really stop them the two kids go running to greet their parent, and look we all know where this plot is heading fellas

(not sure if this one should follow Tang or Dys primarily but Imma go with Tang side for this) fic where there’s more people than canon but they’re still on Vertumna with little research on it & Sol has dream memories (maybe use part of the old idea about the Helio arriving as part of a mini fleet instead of a lone ship?), and Tang’s intelligence is lauded like in canon and she’s put into the best position to learn smarty smarts stuff, while Dys’ rebelliousness gets him no favors with the Man and gets himself marked as a troubled kid and moved away from his sister, with Tang being told that she can seek him out once she’s an adult if she still wants to but for now not to waste her time or energy on worrying about him and focus on her studies. She keeps hearing him being mentioned in passing as being part of some big secret alien-centric program to so she knows that he hasn’t gone awol, but she still doesn’t see him for the next 3 to 5 years even tho she still gets to see most of the other kids (bar Sol, who was also yoinked by the secret alien program). Fast forward to her being an adult enough adult who seems appropriately level headed for doing amoral sciences, so she’s invited to see the big important secret alien project, and “_so Tangent, you know how some of the xenofauna can pass information and feeling between individuals of different species through physical contact, and that there’s some functional technology leftover from the alien civilization that lived here beforehand? And that your brother spent a lot of time exploring ruins? And how sometimes science needs sacrifices? For the greater good and all that? :)?” and Tang gets to see her brother as one of the star subjects of the project’s attempt to recreate a messy version of the array (while not even understanding what it actually is)

like 3 different variants (Geranium, Flulu, and Hal+Tonin+Sol’s she group on a field trip” of “like 3 weeks after landing somebody falls into a mini wormhole and comes out 25 years into the future, except none of them went missing in the second timeline, and now they’re in the future having to deal with the way life actually turned out, and they don’t even know all of the stuff that their other selves do/did, because they may or may not be alive still in this other timeline”. (Actually what got me into working on all those future kid things because I wanted to know who’d be doing what when and with who)

au where Besk blacks out shortly before her suicide attempt and wakes up in a cave on Vertumna, having 0 idea where she is or how she got there, and stumbles around thinking she’s dead until one of the surveyors finds her, and upon getting back to the colony she finds out that she’s supposed to have been dead for the last 11 or so years, with her two five year olds now being sixteen (the same age as her when she left Earth & also how long she spent on the Strato), and she has to learn how to adapt to everything and being alive when she shouldn’t be while there are so many others who died and aren’t magically alive again, and also has to do all this while more or less locked under constant observation, because BOY nobody is going to casually leave her alone for like, so many reasons

fic that opens with Kom waking up in the medbay after the age 14 glow attack and Nem and their younger brothers and all his friends are so unbelievably glad he’s awake and ok, but he keeps learning about the not canon possible things that happened either during the attack or while he was healing (like his mom dying while helping the kids evacuate the creche or chief Rhett and Sol’s parents having died defending geoponics), and he’s just stuck with this unending feeling that he’s supposed to be dead right now, but he’s not, and I’m not sure where to go with the story past that

au where Kom wakes up five years before the Strato reaches the wormhole with the knowledge that he’s going to die ten years from now, and it more or less follows a dreamer Kom story except that he knows that his story only has one conclusion, and rather than trying to prevent his own death he spends that time trying to save and protect as many people in his life as he can (maybe prequel to above scenario?)

obligatory single “nice” modern au fic except that nice has to be in quotation marks because technically it’d be about Dys breaking into Sym’s house after committing a major felony and definitely in a big hurty thinking that it was abandoned, but like surprise! it’s not! and even tho Dys fully expects Sym to call the cops on him and wake up in jail he instead wakes up in Sym’s guest room and immediately assumes that he either died already, accidentally tripped into the fae realm, or Sym is some kinda polite hannibal ass serial killer, and it’d be just a whole bunch of Sym being genuinely kind and nice to Dys while Dys is just “y tho like literally what is wrong with you”, and it takes like 2 years and several more major felonies for them to get together. also this might’ve spawned off of the earlier pre school teacher one but it’s not 100% attached to it so that’s why it has it’s own bulletpoint

2.5 flavors of a Hunger Games AU, which are "special games where its announced that this year each district has to send two siblings/other close family members, and the twins get reaped in their district", "one of the younger boys gets reaped but Kom volunteers in their place", and "Tang watching as Dys gets reaped the first year he's applicable for it and she can't do anything about it, and then having to watch as Kom (in his last year of being applicable) volunteers in her brother's place and all of his siblings are now freaking out" which only came to me as I was sharing the first two.

also have this flawless related image

au where Sym sees videos of wild animals in urban areas being relocated to a better habitat on the data thing Sol gives him and he comes up with a fresh new idea; cut to his two favorite humans (age 13/14) waking up on a strange beach some few thousand kilometers away from the colony several weeks later with 0 idea how they got there (ark opening tune starts to play)

also whatever this is

anyways, that's definately not all of the random au ideas I've had and don't include some of the more developed ones I've actually made effort to work on/flesh out, but these were on hand and I wanted to share them too

[thewitchoftheweed]

Hi! Here again. Just finished my latest batch of Red Star sketches, had an idea of what Leshy looks like for me. I hope you'd enjoy it. Also took the liberty on drawing what Hamal's future eldritch from could look like, if you don't mind.

Full page sketch! Here are some closer details and explanations for them:

Leshy, youngest ex-god half naked version! You described him as lanky but also bushy, so I gave him a bushy head with something of a mane, very fuzzy torso with a thinner layer of fuzz that you could see the wood-like skin in the middle like those goblin naked cats, skinny twigs arms with bushy elbows, fat tail, fat bush pants, and tiny wooden feetsies. Inspired by others' iterations of Leshy.

Hamal and Narinder reacting to the induction of the ex-Bishops! Hamal is so NOT happy, especially on their future hubby's behalf, Narinder is trying to stay grounded there but his breakfast wants to disagree. Made a slight edit under the eyes on the right, or is it left, not sure if you'd notice the tiny detail but just wanted to clarify.

Human Hamal and Narinder full body! Hamal is a bit of a showoff (and yes they're wearing boots with heels and fur cuffs let them be fancy) and the hair floof makes up for the height gap as well 😂

Some headshots of horn growth for Hamal! The "future" ones are just my ideas, I don't know if you're planning to have them grow extra horns or not I just wanted to give him twisted horns but I did gave them eye makeup at the corner of their eye in those, let them be fancy. Also doodled a human Narinder doing the flesh flower move. Now for the Eldritch Hamal thing:

I had the idea of their face opening up to reveal a mouth filled with pointed teeth and the snake tongue, their normal face being like a second set of face of some sort, bleeding ichor, alluding to their somewhat two-faced nature being sweet but also dangerous. Then their eyes would fall back in and come out through their horns at the side as they extend outwards, like those ball spirals, but gross and fleshy instead. Their second horns would grow out and curved to a circle together, and their head would peel itself open at the top to reveal their brain, which would manifest a hazy like eye like the LOTR Sauran one.

Anyway, these are just my fun ideas, don't feel like I wanted you to use them over your own ideas for Hamal's future looks. Please enjoy these, and let me know what you think of them and the blurbs for them. Drink water and eat vegetables regularly. Have a gentle week.

Hi there! As always, these are wonderful! I love your interpretation of Leshy; that's exactly what I was picturing! "Twiggy" is a good word for his build. I also really enjoy Narinder and Hamal at the start of the Reconciliation; they're both holding it together real well lol. Always love to see your human interpretations, too.

I like your concepts for Hamal as they age! I was planning on having them gain horns in the far flung future, and I love the way you've illustrated it! I also like your "two-faced" idea; that very much reflects Hamal's true nature.

Thank you again for sharing your art! It's always so wonderful.

[misslisamiray]

Time for Chapter 8 of Down With the Rickness!

Morty has, at least for the time being, finally convinced Rick to give up on tying to get rid of his cold through highly dangerous scientific experiments. Now it's time for our favorite dysfunctional duo to take it easy and relax watching Interdimensional Cable.

What, you think I'm lying and that's not what's going to happen? That I'm adding another issue to make poor Rick's day even worse? Well, maybe. Why not read what's below the cut and find out for yourself?

A few moments later, they were back in the living room. More worn out than he cared to admit from the struggle in the garage, Rick immediately collapsed onto the couch, dropping the trash can that he’d once again brought with him onto the floor.

“You just relax and get comfortable, and I’ll find us something to watch on good ol’ Interdimensional Cable. We’re gonna, gonna have a real easy day the rest of the day. You’ll see.” Morty said cheerfully, grabbing the remote. Rick mumbled something unintelligible in response. Whether he was agreeing, arguing, or trying to suppress another coughing fit, Morty wasn’t sure.

“I know it sucks that you’re sick. But try to look on the bright side. It gives us a perfect excuse to just, kinda hang out together but not really have to do anything. It’s been a while. Rick and Morty, taking the day off, y’know?”

“Uh-huh. Just hurry up and find something. *Cough!*” Rick grumbled, stretching out more and shoving a throw pillow under his head. Morty turned on the TV to find loud, black & white static. No big deal. Next station. This one had wavy lines in varying shades of gray instead. Morty flipped the channel again, this time finding pink static with almost no sound.

“Huh. Well, I mean… infinite channels from infinite realities. At any given time, some are bound to be having technical difficulties, right? Kinda weird it’s three in a row. Haven’t seen that happen before. But I’m sure it’s fine!” Morty muttered, trying to ignore the bad feeling he had about this. Rick eyed the set suspiciously. Morty continued to flip through channels, only to find something wrong with each one. Some had static, others wavy lines, and a handful were badly pixelated. Most had either no sound or static noise, but some garbled words came through on a few.

“Coming soon: the sequel no one asked for, but everyone is getting!” Click. Silent black and white static. Click. Wavy green lines.

“Previously on our recap edition of the special edition of Soap Opera Summaries…” Click. Wavy pink lines. Click. A solid blue, silent screen. Click.

“New and improved, it’s Plumbus 2.0!” Click. Solid black screen with a faint hissing noise. Click. Red static accompanied by a horrible high-pitched noise. Morty flipped through the channels even faster, but still couldn’t find one coming in properly.

“Ummm…” he worried, shaking the remote in the vain hope that would do something.

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.” Rick said gruffly, dragging himself off the couch and over to the TV. He sat on the floor and grabbed the cable box. After studying it for a moment, he said, “Dammit, the quarantine forcefield interfered with the signal, just like I thought. Can I get one fucking break today?!”

“Oh. Can you fix it?” Morty asked timidly.

“Of course I can fix it, Morty. Hmmm. Besides the signal getting jammed, this crystal’s nearly worn out. So, I would’ve had to do this in like, a few more weeks max, anyway. *Cough!* Would’ve rather dealt with it then, but it’s whatever. At least this should be a quick fix.”

Rick tossed the worn-out crystal aside and pulled a similar, but not identical one from a pocket. It took a minute, since this crystal didn’t fit properly, but he managed to jam it into the cable box. Seeing that did nothing to improve the wavy picture on the TV screen, he scowled and tried to lift the top off the box.

Morty watched closely – there was something very off about Rick’s attempt to fix the cable box. Aside from the crystal not being right and him apparently not noticing that, he seemed unsure how to open the thing. Morty couldn’t understand why he wasn’t either smashing it against the floor like when he’d first installed the Interdimensional Cable or taking it apart with the array of tools built into his hands.

“Come on. Work already!” Rick muttered under his breath, shaking his right hand and trying to produce a screwdriver. Nothing happened. He punched the box with his left hand. Still no tools appeared, but at least he’d hit it hard enough to make the top of the cable box pop open.

“Rick, are your implants not working right because of your cold? Is this like, a thing that happens when you have a fever?” Morty asked hesitantly as he realized what was going on.

“Christ, is it that obvious?” Rick groaned, pausing his attempt to fix the cable box.  

“Kinda, yeah. But also just sort of a lucky guess. I mean, you’re the one who said your temperature sensor things weren’t working, and it looks like you’re having sort of a hard time over there. But it wouldn’t be… as obvious to someone who didn’t know you like I do, if that’s what you meant.” Morty said. That got a heavy, disgusted sigh from Rick, who was getting some tools out from his labcoat pockets.

“Rick, you know it’s not a big deal if you can’t fix the cable today, right?”

“I can fix it, and I’m gonna! *Cough!* *Cough!* Fucking hell, Morty. It’s not like I’m on my deathbed here. A few of my implants malfunctioning a little doesn’t mean I can’t function at all, you know!” Rick snapped as he went back to tinkering with the cable box. He spent a few minutes tightening some screws and loosening others. This did nothing to improve the waves on the TV screen. Rick’s scowl deepened as he looked back and forth between the cable box and TV set.

“Hmmm. Maybe…this?” he asked himself, snipping a blue wire with a small pair of pliers. This produced a few sparks, but no improvements to the picture. Rick snipped a few more wires, one red and one yellow, then crossed the three of them together. This resulted in considerably more sparks, hotter than the first ones.

“Oww! Dammit, I thought that would work!” he complained, jumping back about a foot.

“Uh-huh. You okay? Or at least, not less okay than you already were?” Morty asked.

“Yeah. But that should have worked! Maybe if I just…”

“Rick, no. Whatever you’re gonna try, save it for when you’re thinking a little clearer, please. For now, you should stop before you electrocute yourself. More than you just did.”

“Even if the stupid forcefield messed up the signal, that should *SNIFF!* have been resolved once it was down. Changing the crystal didn’t do anything, either. Hmmm. I might need to check something on the *Cough!* roof.” Rick mused, completely ignoring Morty. He started to get up but stumbled and fell.

“Absolutely not. Rick, you can’t even stand up. You’re not going on the fucking roof! And, and if you try, well… I won’t take your blankets away again, but I will do my best to turn them into a strait jacket. Got it?” Morty said sternly. Rick rolled his eyes.

“I can too stand up, Morty. I just don’t want to right now. But fine, no roof. It’s not like I really wanna do that, either.” he grumbled in an attempt to save face. He haphazardly put the cable box back together, then threw the whole thing back into place. Suddenly, there was a picture on the screen.

“There was a 3 car accident this morning on the corner of First and Main. Be advised that this is causing traffic jams in all directions.” a bored sounding reporter droned, adding with slightly more enthusiasm, “And now here’s Janet with the weather.”

“Wasn’t this morning’s sunrise beautiful, folks? It was truly one for the record books. I hope you all enjoyed it, because we’re getting nothing but rain for the next 10 days. If you missed it, well, sucks to be you!” a pretty redhead announced. Her voice remained perky and energetic even when it was contradictory to what she was saying.

“Like I *Achoo!* needed you to tell me that.” Rick groused, searching in his pockets for something again.

“Let’s see what else is on.” Morty suggested as he changed the channel. The next station had an infomercial for tires. Ordinary tires, shown on a variety of ordinary cars. Not one spaceship or tire with retractable razor blades in sight. Next station – golf. Morty couldn’t help noticing that all the golfers looked human, and not one golf club was turning into a weapon or flying away. He flipped through a few more channels, all equally boring and surprisingly… terrestrial. Settling on a fishing show, Morty had a realization.

“Rick, you didn’t fix Interdimensional Cable, but it looks like you at least got the regular TV working again. That might have to be good enough for today.”

“Yeah, fine. Whatever. Works for me. Ugh. Morty, weren’t you supposed to get me more blankets if I agreed to leave the garage? I held up my end of the bargain, soooo…” Rick agreed. With some effort, he got up again and dragged himself back to the couch, settling into a corner. He finally found the handkerchief he’d been searching for and blew his nose again.

“Oh, right. You still can’t get warm, huh?” Morty asked, his concern growing again. He noticed Rick shiver a little as he adjusted the three blankets he currently had.

Equally annoyed by Morty’s question and the chills that wouldn’t go away, he answered, “Obviously not, no. So maybe do something about it instead of *Cough!* standing there? ‘Every blanket in the whole damn house’ is probably overkill, but don’t, don’t be stingy with them, either.” Rick could hear the whininess in his voice and hated it. He hoped Morty didn’t notice.

“I won’t. Just stay here, and I’ll be back in a few minutes. You need anything else, Rick?” Morty was, with good reason, clearly reluctant to leave the room.

“*SNIFF!* More tissues. I’d forgotten just how much extra mucus the human body makes when infected with a cold virus. Eww. This is gross. I mean, it’s kind of impressive. But still gross. You wanna see?” Rick replied. He stared at the contents of his used handkerchief with a mix of disgust and scientific curiosity.

“No thank you! Trust me, I’m good. Okay, blankets and tissues. Tissues and blankets. Got it. B-R-B.” Morty kept looking over his shoulder as he left the room. Rick studied the handkerchief for a few more seconds before deciding there was no saving it and tossing it into the trashcan. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling, half listening to the man on TV list facts about trout.

“When was the last time I got sick, anyway? Obviously not counting being hungover or poisoned. Sure, I’ve died a handful of times. Of the actual bones left in my body that I haven’t replaced with titanium, there’s maybe two that have never been broken at this point. No, wait. One. *COUGH!* But actually catching a virus from some random person? And a lameass, Earth-originating virus at that? The last time was definitely before I moved in with the family. Like, a lot before. Maybe after one of the times I pulled Morty out of kindergarten or first grade for a day?” Rick said to himself. He took a drink from his flask, grateful he’d remembered to refill it before starting on his recent failed experiment.

Putting it away and closing his eyes, he continued, “Elementary schools are basically dirty, oversized petri dishes. I remember that from when Beth was little. Shit, I remember it from when I was little. Some things don’t change, I guess. So yeah. Between kids being snot nosed germ factories, and my otherwise never being around other humans at the time, that checks out. *Cough!* *COUGH!* Happened more than once, now that I think about it. Might’ve been why I stopped doing that. Eh, it was still *YAWN!* worth it, though.” Despite how awful Rick felt, and most of what he was thinking about being unpleasant, a smile crossed his face, and he started to drift off. 

Just then, Jerry walked in, holding a tape up in the air and triumphantly yelling, "I found it! Now I just need to watch the episode 2, maybe 3 times to make sure I don't miss anything. Once I've done that, I'll be ready to cure Rick. And then we'll see whose plan is stupid, Morty!"

"Obviously yours is, Jerry." Rick groaned before starting to cough again.

"What? You're in here?! Shouldn't you be in bed, or back in the garage, or maybe some kind of quarantine bubble?" Jerry asked, jumping back a little and nearly dropping his supplies. Besides the tape, he was also carrying a notebook, pen and pencil. Getting no answer from Rick, he quickly reassured himself, " Easy, Jerry. There's nothing to worry about. You've got everything you need to solve our little crisis right here."

Smiling smugly, he continued, "So does this weird sickness you have work slower in humans? The way you made it sound, it transforms from one awful thing to another pretty quickly. But it's been hours now, and you still seem stuck on these cold symptoms."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Rick asked groggily, opening one eye slightly. After a few seconds, he remembered his cover story. "Oh, right. That. Yeah. Good *COUGH!* job, Jerry. You hit the nail on the head. How long Mimicking Disease makes you think you have any one illness varies, but it does typically progress slower in humans. In fact, it can be so slow, I m-might just be stuck like this the whole time I'm sick." Jerry side-eyed him, and just missed putting two and two together.

"Well, that would be a lucky break, wouldn't it? You contract some alien virus that can make you feel like you have any disease in the universe, and all it does is imitate a bad cold? Sounds like you'll be getting off easy if that's what happens, Rick."

"Of course you'd think that. Personally, I'd rather deal with Venutian varicella or Floopfloopian ass fever or Morgluxian measles any day over five more minutes of this bullshit. *Cough! Cough!* Anyway, talking to you is more exhausting than usual right now, and I'd like to stop. So whatta you want, Jerry?"

Jerry took a few hesitant steps closer to the couch, asking, "Are those real diseases, or are you just making shit up? Are these things I have to worry about you bringing into my home?!"

"Calm down, Jerry. Everyone in the house, you included, is vaccinated against the one that exists and has a vaccine. One of the others has no preventive measures, and one I just made up to mess with you. No, I'm not telling you which is which. My throat feels like I swallowed glass, and this conversation needs to end. So for the last time, what do you *ACHOO!* need?"

“Well, I need the VCR so I can watch this tape, so I can help you, Rick.” Jerry replied.

“Uh-huh. So sit down and watch it. Interdimensional Cable’s down, and I don’t know about you, but I’m not exactly invested in the plot of ‘Guy Who Looks Like Gene With a Beard Stands in a Boat and Talks About Fish’.” Rick said gruffly, patting the couch and inviting Jerry to join him.

“Ummm, couple problems with that. First of all, I know you keep saying what you have isn’t dangerous, but until I’ve finished my research and am just about to cure you, I’d rather not get any closer than this. No offense, Rick.”

“Eh, none taken. That’s actually the smartest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Of course, that might be *SNIFF!* just the fever or the crappy medicine talking. I’m… not really sure. Anyway, you could just sit further from me and watch whatever that is you’re holding.” Rick agreed, turning to face Jerry.

“I guess I could, but with all your hacking and sniffling, I won’t be able to hear anything. And it’s very important that I pay close attention to this tape, otherwise I might miss some key details, and my plan won’t work. *SIGH!* Not to mention, if I try to explain my idea to you, you’ll just trash it and mock me like usual. So I’d rather not tell you anything until I’m just about to put my plan into action.”

“Look, you’re *COUGH!* right about the noises. Can’t really *Sniff!* do anything about that besides hope whatever the uh, Mimicking Disease moves onto next is quieter. But I’ll admit, I’m intrigued by this plan of yours, Jerry. And whatever it is can’t be worse than Morty’s idea of helping me so far. So go ahead and tell me more.”

“You’re serious? You want to hear my idea, and you’re not just saying that to fuck with me?” Jerry asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow. Rick, who really did need a break from talking, nodded.Jerry debated it briefly, then sat in a chair, saying, “Alright. I’m still not going to actually watch it with you, and I’d prefer to limit time spent in the same room. But I suppose it won’t hurt to sit here for a few minutes and fill you in on the details. I know you’re more familiar with Sailor Moon than Morty is, so this is already a better use of time than trying to talk to him was.” Rick stared at Jerry, slightly more alert now and curious as to what the hell that was supposed to mean.

[omegaremix]

25 Vinyl Records That Influenced My Vinyl Collecting Habits.

‘Top ten’ lists - they were so commonplace on social media before the pandemic that half of the people you knew participated in them. Your friends involuntarily posted lists of their top ten favorite albums, songs, movies, sports moments, video games, books, or whatever came to mind. Then they’d nominate you to do the same if you even cared. All of a sudden they stopped and for a few months everyone did tournament brackets. These days no one does either. Now, tag a band and see if they acknowledge you exist, solve a simple math problem where everyone with a Facebook diploma in mathematics are out to prove you wrong, or answer some useless questions to find out what your new gang initiation name is by removing your first and last letter and any surviving vowels.

But I don’t care about childish entry-level entertainment that everyone will forget about five minutes later. I’d watch Fox News for that. Longtime Ω+ followers know our ‘top tens’ are much more than that: they are playlists, mixtapes, end-of-year finds, and best-of decade results. That’s what I’m into. I’m into what’s important and that’s identifying with people. It’s not a contest or a be-all-end-all game of right-or-wrong. It’s all fully subjective. Without personal results, how special or unique would these lists be?

The last survey I was nominated to do was from WUSB’s Mister Edison, the station’s only cylinder aficionado in its’ 45-year history: top ten vinyl records that influenced your collecting habits. I did volunteer to do it and I was halfway there, then somehow along the way I deleted it. Now, here it is. But, instead of a top ten, we’ll do a top twenty-five because I’m compulsive and 10 is not a square number. All records shown here regardless of size, speed, color, or print run are those that have changed not only my record-collecting habits but also have shaped my musical tastes to an extent.

The record that started it all? KMFDM’s “Power” 12”. It was the very first vinyl record I bought with my own money, just mere months after purchasing most of its discography in one shot at my local record store. I ordered it from the TVT / Wax Trax mail order - my very first mail-order to be exact - numbered to 3,000 copies as a single-sided etched vinyl record in a clear plastic silk-screened jacket. That also came with Underworld’s “Rowla”. Shizuo’s High On Emotion e.p. was my third. Found at what was Port Jefferson’s Music Den, that’s a record I had to have at first sight because I knew it was extremely rare. Glad I made the right call because I never saw it again. Even though I didn’t have a turntable, I bought them anyway thinking I could hold on to them until I finally got my hands on one. Turned out my ma’ and dad had one: a wooden box smaller than the records it played. It literally had no sound and was deemed almost unplayable, so a close “friend” of mine gave me his father’s 1972 Panasonic and a copy of Autechre’s We Are R Y 12”. I was now in business.

From there, another one-time pressing of theirs, the “Keynell” e.p., introduced me to the panic of now-or-never buying. Booth & Brown collectors know how insanely rare their limited edition e.p.’s are and also how they and Warp divided up their Cichlisuite and Envane e.p.’s in two parts. And that was nothing to when Aphex Twin released not one, not two, but eleven e.p.’s as the Analord series through his Rephlex label. Ten regular platters and two versions of Analord 10: either you got the Aphex logo picture disc or, if you were really lucky (we mean that in a literal sense), one that came with the Analord binder which is fetching impossible prices right now. Some of them even came with the mythical Analogue Bubblebath 5. We’re just happy to have purchased all eleven editions for regular price when they first came out. Amazingly in that same year, I did my first-ever label run and purchased $300.00 worth of vinyl and disc releases from DHR.

The first hardcore record I got my hands on - Kill Your Idols’ This Is Just The Beginning - was also the very first music purchase I made at any show. Three years after one of my close friends introduced me to Sick Of It All and hardcore / punk in general, This Is Just The Beginning flung the doors wide open for crushing similar-styled tough-guy finds. Most Long Island record stores sold them when they came in, and places like Hicksville and Centereach’s Utopia (when they did sell them) offered many easy one / two / three-dollar bargain bin purchases of many 7” records, 45’s, and 12” LPS. The Howards & Checkerboard Charlie split is one example of that and one of many local acts I possess. Jemini The Gifted One’s “Funk Soul Sensation” is the only hip-hop record on the list. Ten years ago I re-discovered golden-era hip-hop and realized there was a treasure trove of white-label and 12” singles I never heard of from that time. Those hip-hop / rap singles can be found on the cheap in the same manner as those discount hardcore records. I’ll be on a life-time hunt for them as at this point I don’t have enough of them.

It’s no surprise to see that more than half of this list is made up of Seventies’ jazz / fusion records. If not for Lonnie Liston Smith & The Cosmic Echoes Astral Traveling, I would not have the size of vinyl library I have now. One of our former hip-hop dee-jays at the station played “Expansions”, “Aspirations”, and “Colors Of The Rainbow” and those three cuts literally changed my life. It opened up an avenue for me to re-discover who I was and revisit a certain era of time I missed out on. From that point on, it was all about that era’s sounds, sampling, and personal favorites. John Tropea’s A Short Trip To Space, Les McCann’s Music Lets Me Be, and Roy Ayers’ A Tear To A Smile - those three records define my final years at Stony Brook. Phil Upchurch’s 1979 solo outing, Stuff’s self-titled debut, Emily Remler’s Firefly, Steve Khan’s The Blue Man, Ramsey Lewis’ Tequila Mockingbird, Eric Gale’s Multiplication, and Ronnie Laws’ Pressure Sensitive tie me in and keep me connected to those years.

Karla Bonoff’s Restless Nights and Urbie Green’s The Fox influenced my collection in an amusing way. I had no idea who both artists were until I pulled them out of the bins. What had me purchase them? I bought Restless Nights and The Fox solely based on the year of release (1979 and 1976 respectively). One listen of each and I knew I made two right calls.

Remember when we posted our entry about our close friend Syke who rescued a pile of old records from being thrown out to the curb? Of the 500+ he found, he gave us 50 and we still have most of them. We selected Pete Shelley’s “Telephone Operator” as a reminder of that free giveaway.

I could list both volumes of the original Dirty Dancing motion picture soundtrack which my ma’ had, her only surviving childhood vinyl record of Disney’s Cinderella, or The Pac-Man Album 12″ picture disc written by Patrick McBride and Dana Walden. But those three mentions aren’t influential; just early Atari-youth memories. My first-ever childhood memories I still remember (not photographed) are also vinyl-related: J. Geils Band’s “Centerfold” and The Cars’ “Shake It Up”; the latter which I have in my possession and are the markers of all classic rock records I own around that era. (Think Dire Straits and Donald Fagan’s The Nightfly to name a few.)

Another Atari-youth moment I remember is The Chambers Brothers’ A New Time, A New Day. My dad cut out the album sleeve and used it as a paper holder in our garage. That very record made me think of whatever few platters I remember him having before he sold his entire vinyl library and our library of Atari 2600 games…for a paltry $50.00. “He needed the money” he told me; which is always a pathetic man’s answer to everything. Had he’d seen how enthusiastic I was into music collecting, he would’ve handed his entire collection to me. Roberta Flack’s Quiet Fire, Kiss’ Rock & Roll Over, and The Rolling Stones Sticky Fingers and Their Satanic Majesties Request were the four in his collection he parted with and I have three of them, not including The Chambers Brothers release. He tried to make it up to me, however, by bringing home two separate piles of records he rescued from the curb. One heap was full of polka records which I donated to WUSB’s resident polka lady before she died the same year. The other heap? Since you didn’t ask: loads of classic hippie rock records, showtunes, and celebrity albums. Jim Nabors on wax? Stop before I deactivate this account.

Finally, Boulders’ Rock & Roll Will Never Die. Look it up and you’ll see it’s a near total obscurity only confined to hipster circles who know what’s up. A five-track Wharf Records release picked up for less than $3.00 is the one 12" that may as well get me into the Discogs purchasing game for all rare releases (not found in stores) I’ve been looking for in the past seven years. I’ve played many of them on Omega WUSBand soon after bought a substantial chunk of their discographies in one shot (three Happy Meals / Free Love LP’s and three Black Marble discs, for example). As a nice side effect, it’ll be the the same for cassettes as well such as Believer/Law’s Matters Of Life And Death and JS Aurelius’ Machines Water The Plants Now - if the seller’s price is right, that is.

Notice how we went from KMFDM to Boulders? You can’t get any more disparate in styles and worlds between the two. The first purchases, public library finds, donations, record fairs, mail orders, samples, jazz-fusion and soul, hardcore and hip-hop buy-outs, record-store victory tours, and many other moments I might have missed…that’s 25 years of buying vinyl records spanning many different collecting eras and genres for me. That’s only one format, and also not counting acquiring music by other means such as radio and downloads which also shaped my collection. The bingo board jumble you see is only a tiny pinch of my musical tastes and not the whole story of my listening habits that’s usually broadcast on Omega WUSB or always posted here on Ω+.

After making this list, I’m reminded that I’m the most diverse person I know. I’m proud that my low-lying threshold for accepting and liking sound and concept allowed me to make that diversity into a science and have that mind-blowing knowledge I have of it. I’m as consistent, thorough, and far-reaching as I possibly can while hitting as many targets as possible. Would there be more bingo boards like this? Only if I make sure of it.

Phil Upchurch: self-titled

Lonnie Liston Smith: Astral Traveling

Karla Bonoff: Restless Nights

Steve Khan: The Blue Man

Chambers Brothers: A New Time, A New Day

Emily Remler: Firefly

Boulders: Rock And Roll Will Never Die

KMFDM: “Power”

John Tropea: A Short Trip To Space

Les McCann: Music Let’s Me Be

Shizuo: High On Emotion

J. Geils Band: “Centerfold”

Aphex Twin: Analord 10 picture disc

Jemini The Gifted One: “Funk Soul Sensation”

Roy Ayers: A Tear To A Smile

Ramsey Lewis: Tequila Mockingbird

Pete Shelley: “Telephone Operator”

Autechre: “Keynell”

Kill Your Idols: This Is Just The Beginning

The Cars: Shake It Up

Ronnie Laws: Pressure Sensitive

Stuff: Stuff

Eric Gale: Multiplication

Urbie Green: The Fox

Checkerboard Charlie b/w The Howards split

[theultim]

part four!

I have been grinding my catalog so I forgot to update again But here's my analysis of Side Order's cryptic images!! (4th to 6th images)

[4/18]

The description on Inkipedia reads: “The Octoling character wielding an unknown weapon that appears similar to a Splattershot in one hand and something that resembles a Fizzy Bomb or an ink tank in the other”

In the side order reveal, where they show the playable Octoling standing in the white Inkopolis Square, they don’t have a weapon or ink tank on their person. Unlike in the Octo Expansion, where the playable Octoling at least wanders with their ink tank on their back. In the story mode across all games, the agents always have their weapon and ink tank equipped. I don’t think what the Octoling is holding is their ink tank though. It’s way too small to be. I think it’s a Tacticooler drink instead, as I can see something resembling the Tacticooler in the top right of the screen. Although they have a similar shape, I think this is wrong. It’s a new bomb that could be paired with the new weapon that the Octoling has. Why did I write the Tacticooler theory if it’s wrong? Because I might need this later, when more context is given. I like keeping all of my thoughts instead of erasing them all. It’s the only explanation I can give for the thing in the top right corner, but it’s way too tall to be a Tacticooler, unless this is a variant of it. Like how in some story modes, there were alternative versions to weapons you could use in the base game. On the gun that the Octoling is holding, I think it would have more range than a Splattershot. It’s bigger and longer, with the tank of ink it has being the only resemblance between the two. In this picture, the Octoling has something along their waste with a colored card on it. This wasn’t shown in the small clip we got of how this place looks in-game, so this will be obtained later. I assume that we’ll need this card to access new areas and levels.

[5/18]

The description for this image on Inkipedia says; “An unknown character, presumably an Inkling, who is obscured in favor of their shadow.”

I want to agree with the Inkling theory, but I’m not too sure. When I first saw this image, I thought this was Marie until I remembered that her hair parts twice on her left side, which isn’t shown here. Whoever this is, their outfit is completely blacked out. Either on purpose, like it’s part of their design, or to not give any hints as to who it may be. But I doubt it’s part of their design, there would be more details if that was true. This image is quite the enigma to me, and I can’t put together any immediate answers for it.

[6/18]

The description for Inkipedia says; “The Octoling crouching in front of multiple black spikes.” (OUTDATED) New description: "The Octoling crouching in front of multiple white inverted obelisk-like pillars with roots"

I discussed this picture with a few people on a discord server. One theorized that the spikes could be the spine of a dinosaur fossil. I don’t think this is the case because they still have their perfect points and are too close to each other to be functional in any way. So, I believe the theory of nuclear fallout more than this. The black spikes resemble hostile nuclear architecture, 4/7 ways to physically represent and deter outsiders from wandering too close, as it can harm the body up to 10,000 years in the future. The events of Splatoon are confirmed to happen 12,000 years after humanity died out from nuclear fallout. These structures can still serve their purpose. There’s this black substance that’s leaving a good two thirds of these spikes submerged, with what looks to be some sort of root resembling neurons growing along its surface. There is white coral beneath the dark substance as well at the bottom left. Fun fact about this image, it used to be the 6th on Inkipedia but now it's the 17th! I'll be keeping it in the order it used to be.

I have edited my posts to include previous/next parts!! (And now actively will update them to include this) NEXT: Cryptic images (6 through 9) PREVIOUS: Cryptic images (1 through 3)

[badfanficsforlyfe]

Wakingdeath Alchemist CH. 1 (FMA FF) (2012) (Age 13/14) [Posted to wattpad]

[New Authors Note]

As this is posted on tumblr, I had unpublished this from Wattpad many many years ago but its still in my drafts which is how I accessed it. I am rereading each chapter painstakingly to make sure that if I wrote anything offensive/out of date as a child that it is addressed. I did not go through the whole story to edit it when I was 19 like the OG Author's note suggests. Enjoy. {TW: Blood, gore, violence, and most importantly CRINGE}

[OG Author Note]

As of February 8th, 2018, I'm going back and rewriting/editing this whole thing. Kill me.

What you are about to witness is a book I wrote when I was 13/14. I am now 19 so I think it's time to bulk this up a bit and make it a bit less cringey.

As of when I'm writing this, this story has hit 102 thousand reads, almost 4 thousand votes, and over 500 comments. Guys, this story is so shitty so I thank you for all the support you've given this story over the years. I'm surprised it's still a thing that's not dying.

Again thanks everyone and enjoy the twists and turns and inconsistencies.

PS, the rest of the author note's after this chapter is from when I was a cringey hormonal teen so don't get offended. I'll change them all soon. 

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Chapter 1

"No please! Not my Mother! You can't!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. A few ruffians from the bad side of the village had her in their dirty hands.

My Mother was considered a witch because she drew circular pictures on a hard surface. From those circular pictures she could put something on there and turn it into something new. With her level of "witchery", she could even fix items that had been broken. In our village, no one could do that. They didn't even know where to look to learn. Not that they wanted to of course. They were terrified of her.

I had a friend who had moved far away and he sent me letters about his village and what type of people lived there. He told me about Alchemists and the army they kept State Alchemists in. But when he sent me a sample of an Alchemy book, my mother found it and wanted to learn more. She traveled far away leaving me with my stupid uncle who was so busy being drunk. When she came back, she could have become a State Alchemist but instead she wanted to raise me like a normal mother to make up for the time she had been gone.

Once my mom started using Alchemy a little bit more often people thought it was magic since they've never seen such a thing. They cursed at her and called her a witch. Soon, my mom's friends wouldn't even talk to her because of the fear of my mother's "magic" was so strong. She was just my Mother, a woman with a kind heart...or so I thought.

Being the child of the "witch" led to me losing my friends because they had thought I was the same. They thought it was hereditary. But I didn't know how to do the magic that my mom did. At least, not at that time.

"Sorry kid, but she can't raise you anymore. She's ours." The man who was in charge had black sunglasses on and long black hair that was pulled back into a ponytail with a gold band.

"No! Ugh! Don't take her!" I yelled and ran towards them with all my might but the guy in charge grabbed my arm hard and knelt down so he was level with me. "Don't worry little girl. We'll take good care of her." He had taken his glasses off to look me dead in the eyes. "Where are you taking her!?" I screamed and tried to pull away not having any luck. "She's going to work for us for a little while. Don't you fret. Oh, and you might not ever see her again, and if you do, don't bother calling her Mother anymore. By then, she'll have completely forgotten who you are." He laughed and let me go pushing me back.

Standing off to the side was my pet snow leopard Kuagra. She was screaming at the men but she was smart not to attack, after all she was just a cub.

After I had lost all of my friends, I had found Kuagra who had accidentally tread too far away from her family, so she became my new friend . And my only friend.

She sat there yelling at them and pawing at the air.

"Shut that animal up."

"NO!" I screamed and reached for a knife I kept under my long sleeve.

When I was little, around six and a half or seven, I came across one of my dad's large journals. In it was information on different kind of knives and fighting techniques that involved using these knives. My dad didn't know that I had kept that journal, but he always used to say that it was very important I knew how to protect myself because I would come to realize that the world was a dangerous place. So since that age I had collected knives from various places and practiced using them. Although I hadn't come across anything to protect myself from back then, I did at that moment. I was about to put some of my knowledge into one tiny second.

I hung my head-not in shame but in anger and agony. I wanted my mom to be safe and with me. Forever and always. Like how it was supposed to be. We were supposed to be a family.

It is said that a mother would do anything for her child. Well it was time to switch the roles.

"You take my Mother- you die." I mumbled.

"Excuse me? What was that?" His voice was menacing and annoying. I wanted to rip his voice box out of his throat.

I screamed and took the steak knife from my sleeve and drove it through his chest. He popped like a cherry tomato splashing blood on my nice white church clothes.

I pulled down on the knife and made a big hole in him tearing him in half almost. I wasn't sure where I gathered the strength from, but it was there and it was helping me. I decided not to take time to question it.

I turned to the two men who had my mother unconscious and stared at them with anger as I felt the man fall to my feet.

One man gave the other man my mom and came after me but they didn't know anything about me. I was just so pissed with them that my own anger blinded me.

Just because I didn't do witch magic, didn't mean I was just an ordinary little girl.

I raised the knife slowly waiting for him to almost reach me, and then with one swift and silent movement, his arm was falling to the floor. He shouted and grabbed the stump that was left, the blood spitting itself onto the carpet. He stumbled back and tripped falling on his behind.

"No! Please!" he shouted for mercy and out of the corner of my eye I could see the other man dragging my mom out of the door. I wanted to reach them in time so I stopped the man's shouting by slicing his neck with another quick movement. He slumped sideways and silent. The best kind of sound.

I turned around and headed for the door quickly when I realized the other man I had killed wasn't there anymore. There was also no trace of blood.I sighed furiously and decided not to stress out about it to focus on the current situation so I ran out of my front door leaving the other dead man behind bleeding out.

"Come back here!" I yelled but by the time I had turned my head in both directions, the road was empty.

I cursed to myself and pushed my body back into the house totally ignoring the dead one that was left on the floor by me. By me.

How was I capable of killing a human being without breaking down or tearing myself apart? It was like I had no sympathy, or I was able to suppress it. They took my mom. I was just so angry. I just wanted to protect her. And I had failed. That was the most frustrating part.

I had to get my mom back somehow, but they were already gone...

I ran into my room and threw all of the papers off of my desk in frustration. I pounded the wall furiously and with most of the strength I could muster. I looked up and saw there was a dent where I had slammed my hand. Our walls were like paper though. I knew I wasn't strong enough.

I savagely started stomping around the room like a toddler having a tantrum. Then out of nowhere, I dropped to my knees and started bawling my eyes out.

My Mother was the only family I had. She's was always there for me when I got in a fight with my friends. She told me the right things and told me her experiences from doing the wrong things. She didn't tell me that Alchemy was one of them. 

She would tell me stories before bed sometimes and they would all start with Once Upon a Time and end with And They Lived Happily Ever After The End. But I knew that none of them were real. How could they be real? All of them had a happy ending. All of them! I would never get mine. Why didn't I get one?

She would also sing to me through hard times like when my Father went into a coma and was kept at a nearby hospital. Even though I loved Father, my mom still despised him. For all I knew, she could have been happy that he had collapsed suddenly from eating food mom had cooked.

I hadn't known why she had hated him so much. I didn't even know why they were still together if she hated him. Maybe it was because Dad loved Mom.

I jumped up and ran out of my room and into my mother's where I found everything neat and organized.

There was a large bookshelf where she had kept all of the books she loved to read and also the fairy tales she sometimes read me. Infuriated, I tore most of those books off with hot tears gushing down my cheeks.

"You shouldn't have opened that book!" I cried over and over again but more soft than the one before.

By the time I had started whispering that line, I found the sample book of Alchemy.

I screamed and started tearing that book to bits having its pages fly all around me.

"You said you would never let anything happen to us! You said you would never leave me!" I cried in agony and fell to my knees in all of the papers.

My nose was stuffy yet running like a faucet. I was sniffling every other second and wiping my face every other five.

After about fifteen minuets I had finally calmed down a little bit but had started hiccuping. I sniffled loud and took a deep breath closing my eyes. I had grown tired and wanted to fall asleep right there on every paper, but then my eyes found a paper that didn't quite belong. It was lined and had black cursive writing on it.

I reached out to pick it up with my trembling hand that was stained in blood that was not mine. When I did finally pick it up, I saw that it was a note...from my mom.

Dear Shiomaki, as you know, I am studying Alchemy and many people don't want to have anything to do with us at the moment. When you read this, I will most likely be dead. Please don't be angry. Please don't go on a revenge spree. And please, please, please don't blame yourself. At the moment there aren't very many but that will change. Baby, I need you to grow strong without me. I know you can do it. I know you'll find a way to make it all better. You are a strong smart girl. If you want, I'm giving you permission to travel to find that friend who moved a long time ago and brought Alchemy up. What was his name? Alphonse? Oh and PS, I love you very much, don't die.'

'Don't die' was an inside joke we had. When we would cough to clear our throats we would always say to not die and have a laughing fit. Good times. But now, I couldn't take it as a joke.

I took the note and and crumbled it in my hand grasping it with all my might. I looked down at the floor where I had thrown almost every book on. I started pushing books aside and started picking out Alchemy books my mom had acquired over the years. With a couple books in my arms, I walked out of my other's room and back into mine with sadness and anger still enveloping my hardening heart.

I groaned and dropped the books at my feet and stomped over to my bed and flipped it over with both of my hands.

My twenty (or close to that number) knifes were taped to the bed frame alone with a custom belt I had put together. It was the best hiding place I could find. Mother didn't know about my hobby aft all.

An idea that popped into my head slightly decreased my anger.

Once I found Alphonse, I would ask him to teach me Alchemy! We would have probably still been great friends if he hadn't moved away. I was sure he would be glad to teach me.

I quickly changed into plaid shorts and a gray shirt.

I tore my belt from my bed and strapped it around my waist nice and tight so it wouldn't fall if I was moving around quickly.

One by one I tore the knives off my bed and put them in their slip on plastic sheathes before sticking them in the slots of my belts. My favorite knife was my designed machete that I stole from an adventurer back when I first started collecting knives.

I walked over to my desk and took the research papers on knives and stuffed them into a satchel that I had closed and slung over my shoulder.

"Kuagra!" I yelled and my little snow leopard cub trotted into the room. She had probably hidden under my mother's bed or something.

We've had many adventures together. We would both go into the woods when it would snow and make snow angels. I had to help her with hers and she would jump in mine making paw prints on my limbs. We would conquer and scare off the bigger mountain lions after we showed them who was boss. We had a great time everyday and she would make me forget about everything that was bad in my mind.

"Kuagra, we're going on a little adventure, okay? Just like old times but better. I need you to be good on the way to the train station. Now what was that village called again? Resembool? I think that's right." Kuagra looked at me like I was crazy but I shrugged and walked out of my  room.

"Come with me Kuagra. We can't pack any food because if we drop any, it probably would lead a trail to us and we'd be dead." I smiled. I was such a little kid then, about ten years or so, but so very cautious because of the fairy tales mother told me. "Plus, we don't have any food that won't go bad in a week."

I grabbed my coat and walked out of the door casually as if nothing had happened. I held the coat in my arms as Kuagra trotted behind me.

After I got a couple yards away, I heard a man's voice behind me. "Shiomaki!" he yelled making me turn around. It was one of the villagers, specifically the one who I stole the steak knife from.

"Yes Mr. Burr?" I asked like an innocent child.

"Is that your house over there?" he asked pointing behind him.

"Why yes-" I gasped and gritted my teeth when I saw blood starting to drip for the crack underneath the door.

"Why is there a dead body in that house?" he asked angrily.

I froze over feeling stupid that I haven't moved the bodies. Plus someone had probably snuck in when I was busy throwing a tantrum and saw the mess I had left. Boy did I sound like a total slasher now!

"Well Mr. Burr," I had calmed down and sounded like I hadn't murdered someone. "someone was trying to take my mother away and her natural survival instincts kicked in and she sliced off his arm!" I laughed. "He kept screaming and to silence him she ended his life...but then they took her. I would have made him a proper burial but I was just in the hurry to-" I stopped but it was too late. The words were already out of my mouth.

"Uh huh. In a hurry to do what? Where are you going and what does that belt contain?" He sounded impatient and I was running out of things to say.

I smiled evilly and looked to my left. I was surprised to see that people had gathered to the sides to hear this case. Upon those people I saw my ex best friend Ferdinand who looked scared and confused.

I laughed like an evil mad man while throwing my head back and holding my stomach. All around me became quite quiet so I stopped laughing and took off my hat letting my long black hair down that touched my shoulder blades.

"I assume all you people know that my mother is an Alchemist, correct?" I shouted and whispers started bouncing around the people. "My Mother is a great Alchemist that could kill you in seconds! But she didn't now, did she! No! She is a nice dedicating woman who risked her time for others! She helped little kids when they fell! She stayed by your side when you had fallen ill! My mom was a good woman! Did you know that Alchemy is very common beyond our village? My best friend who moved a long time ago does it and so does his older brother! It's not witchery! You just can't see that and because of you my mother was taken away from me leaving me all alone! She killed two people to protect me! She can't live without me and I can't live without her! But you just couldn't see beyond your differences and decided to treat her like she was nothing! Both of us like nobodies! Now I'm going out and I'm going to learn Alchemy. I'm going to get pretty good at it and I'm going to go look for my Mother! Now if anyone has a problem with that, you can kiss my butt because I'm not doing what any of you tell me to!"

When I stopped raging everything had gone quiet and I couldn't read anyone's expressions. My breath had gone heavy and my palms were getting cold and clammy. Okay, maybe I switched the truth there but I couldn't say that I was the murderer. They would actually believe me!

"So your mother killed a man just for you?"

"He was a son of a female dog anyways." I shrugged casually making him yell and come out with a closed fist. "He was my cousin God dammit!"

I smiled slyly, put my hat on, and reached up my sleeve. "Bad move." I said quietly.

I pulled the steak knife out and slammed it down on his wrist once I moved to the side. He yelled and fell back while everyone started yelling and screaming.

"QUIET!" I shouted and everything slowed to a stop. I pointed the knife at him. "This is what happens when you underestimate us! Your cousin was unfortunate but I'll let you off easy this time!"

"A-are you implying that you are the m-murderer?" he asked holding his hand, the blood gushing through the fingers of his other hand.

I raised my eyebrow and smiled.

I turned around and ran off with Kuagra leaving everyone there to figure out what just happened.

I happened.

I shouldn't have.