#his eyes are actually red (inner) and purple (outer)

[simmingonthelow]

"You Are My Eternity"

~Macha Wording

Poses (slightly maybe edited) by @rebouks (top 3), @hannahssimblr (mid 2), and @lonerswhimsie (bottom 1).

[thecrowsart]

people: omg we finally get to see hyper! me: omg we finally get to see more angles of kusuriuri's clothes! observations and (A LOT OF) ranting under the cut:

1.)

The inside sleeve design has been revealed! It's pretty similar to the outside design but instead of that four-petal design, it's a gold circle. Also, it looks like the large eye is shared by both sides, but based on how the sleeve looks in other images, it must be really really big..... I guess they can get away with it lol. Like, if you laid out the sleeve fabric, I think it would look like this:

2.)

THE BACK OF HIS OBI. What the hell kinda knot is this actually... like, does anyone here know about obimusubi because I'm not very good at knots but if it comes down to it I will learn how this works. I already thought this based on the promo art but it seems like his obi fabric is double-sided, with purple on one side and the check pattern on the other, with a red trim. That lighter salmon color in the knot seems to be a different fabric, maybe an obiage? It's not tucked into the front so I'm not sure if that's the right term, but in any case it's some kind of extra fabric. If the purple and check are really one piece of fabric, then the knot is like... a hitch? It's some kind of one-loop bow, and it's quite bulky so he might have an obimakura in there. Whatever it is, it's considerably more elaborate than OG Kusuriuri's obi, which was that red brocade just tied into a large crooked bow. Who is helping movie Kusuriuri get dressed in the morning? (I'm sure he can do it himself and I commend him for the dedication to the aesthetic lol).

3.)

His mirror is now kept looped around this thick cord that kind of comes out of nowhere and disappears into his obi. First of all, how is the mirror staying up like that since the string is only looped once. Second, the thick white cord looks the same as the one that comes out of the left side of his obi and loops around his back, but I'm not sure how they would connect. Logically, they probably are the same cord and it goes through his obimusubi somehow. 4.)

This one was actually noticeable in the very first trailer as you can tell, since the second screenshot is from that trailer, but I somehow never noticed it until now. Kusuriuri has neck markings now! In a different frame I caught a glimpse of the part that goes into his collar, it looks like a circle, though it's not visible in either of these screenshots. But from the first screenshot and some other frames I saw, it looks somewhat off-center. I wasn't sure if it was just a weird frame at first, but it looks consistent the few other times (time?) that part of his neck is visible. It looks like the strip of red that leads down to the circle curves off to the left rather than going straight down the center. I didn't realize this before but his neck is actually concealed in most of the promo images.

5.)

A better look at the back of his socks, plus two things that were visible this whole time but I didn't notice: first, his black leggings have this folded layer you can probably see on top. I'm not sure how to describe it and I don't know exactly how it works. It seems weird to me that he would have three sock layers (outer black, inner black, white), so I think the two black layers are probably still part of the same sock. I'm just not sure exactly what's up with it. Secondly, his geta have metal corners on the teeth! I don't think I've seen that on real geta, so maybe it's just a random detail, but if it's a thing on some real geta, I wonder if it's to keep the wood from wearing away there. Also another think I'm just noticing, there's a reinforcing wedge of wood under the front part of his geta that overhand the front tooth. You can see it a little in the second image.

Overall, that's all the new design stuff I noticed. Since I just drew him twice and spent like all day thinking about this, I've realized his design is way more elaborate than the original one. He has a bunch of little doodads, like the ties around his ankle or that decorative tie that comes out of his ohashori:

which still bothers me because I've never seen the back of it. Where are those strings going. And how is it secured in the first place? is it tied or pinned underneath his ohashori, like on the tie under the obi (not sure if there's a name for it)? What is it? Why does he have this here?

These details as well as things like the corners and wedge on his geta, the red trim on the obi and the check pattern, and his elaborate eye make up are all design elements that could never really have worked for a tv show. It's impressive to me even that OG Kusuriuri had that hand drawn brocade texture and the designs on his kimono that he did. It's the type of thing animators usually avoid, lol.

I like the movie design visually, but my god is it a pain in the ass to draw. Due to the aforementioned details of course and the wider variety of colors. Oh yeah, my last (for real) observation is that this Kusuriuri looks a lot less human than our OG friend. His skin is entirely whitish-grey, and he has that white/purple and red hair, and now he has markings on his neck instead of just on his face. (Unrelated but I feel like they made his lip tattoo less prominent and it makes me sad because it's one of my favorite things about Kusuriuri's design). But Hyper, from that very small glimpse we caught of him, looks more mundane than the original. I think it's the combination of his black hair and his markings being red instead of gold. I wonder what the rest of him will look like.... It was interesting to me that his face is drawn differently from Kusuriuri. In the TV anime, they have the same face shape and features, but their hair and coloring is different. And OG Hyper had a slightly different version of Kusuriuri's clothes. We can't see this new Hyper's clothes, but his face is more square looking. He looks like a different person... interesting lore implications.

Okay, I really must stop there.

[mullermilkshake]

A lasting impression - Part three

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four

Wife! Reader x Yakuza!Sukuna Tags: NSFW, Wife! reader, Yakuza AU, established relationship, mentions of blood, gore, violence, kissing, heavy petting, smut to come.

"Sir," Uraume waited by the door of the car and opened it for Sukuna's exit.

"Where is she?" he slipped out of the car and moved with purpose towards the double doors of headquarters.

"Your wife is waiting for you in her study. I applied the necessary first aid and after care myself."

"Good. that'll be all for tonight, Uraume."

Sukuna left them behind and made his way towards his personal quarters towards the inner part of the property, private enough to scream bloody murder and no one would hear unless he wanted them to.

The only place in Ryomen headquarters that no one other than Uraume was permitted to enter.

A place where you and him could converse freely and live life as though the Yakuza world wasn't just waiting outside those outer doors.

No one dared to even look him in the eye when he marched himself down the hallways and left nothing but the padding of his bare feet on the wine red carpet to match the red all over his body.

Perhaps that was why everyone he passed looked away and bowed far deeper than usual. Not that he minded it at all. It was just the way things happened, including how he was covered head to toe in the blood of his enemies.

When Sukuna arrived at his private quarters, you were right where he expected you to be, sitting at your desk writing something in your leather bound journal.

He entered without knocking, knowing the ins and outs of the study with his eyes closed, knowing the art ladened walls and antique gold lined vase off in the corner like it was his own office. For no one, not even Uraume had access to.

You didn't initially react to his presence, still writing and nursing your cheek with an icepack. "Did you get it all out of your system?"

If it wasn't such a serious time, Sukuna would have chuckled at your attitude seeing as you knew him so well.

"For now," he closed the study door and made his way to the desk. "let me see your cheek."

He stroked the back of your hand with his index finger which prompted you to close your journal and settle the icepack down on the wooden surface.

"Are they dead, or just gravely injured?"

The bruising had taken a hold of your flawless skin, bright red and purple from impact so disgustingly placed on display for all to see. It stoked the pit of lava in Sukuna's stomach enough that he could go out and punch the next person he saw just to quell it for just a second.

It took a moment of loosing himself in your eyes for you to respond to the silence. "I don't think I need to ask, actually. Did you leave a note per chance?"

Sukuna thought back to Awasaka's disembowelled abdomen. "Of sorts."

His knuckle moved and grazed your cheek, dragging slowly and barely brushing past the injured skin so as to not cause you further pain.

Fuck, you were so beautiful. "This won't happen again. And when I find everyone involved, they are going to wish that they endured a quick death when I'm through with them."

Then, you responded to Sukuna in a way that caught him off guard. "Do what you need. Though if it pleases you, I hope you'll let me watch."

Now you weren't opposed to him using violence. You had seen your fair share in the time that Sukuna had known you, it was a fearless part that drew him to you in the first place. But openly asking to be a part was nothing you had voiced before.

He leant against the desk, propping himself onto it to look at you more clearly. "If that is what you want."

And for some reason, Sukuna felt that down to his very soul.

A characteristic that made him fall in love with you all over again.

The way you looked up at him just now, though he was still drenched in Awasaka's blood. Something lustrous and hungry, excited and feverish for an outcome only he could provide.

Sukuna would have given everything up to ensure your safety. His little kingdom, the wealth the Ryomen clan had accumulated, even his life.

Anything for you. Everything.

"I very much want it."

His strength, confidence and brash nature were traits that interested you, things that drew you too him like a bee to flower petals, just watching him from the background with your own perfect traits that collected Sukuna with magnetism.

You could handle yourself physically and most importantly, mentally. There wasn't a time he had ever really seen you loose yourself or seen you display emotions that were drastic. You didn't even loose your temper like people expected a person to.

Right now he knew you were seething, though from an outsiders perspective you were just sitting at your desk asking questions.

Sukuna's hand had cupped your cheek softly and cradled you, his thumb rubbing just short of your ear. "Then you shall have it."

It was rather abrupt, again, being out of the ordinary for you. You shot up from your seat and moved close to him, close enough to plant your palms flat on the desk either side of him.

"Good. Because I'm rather disappointed that I missed out on the show," you nodded to the red bloody marks all over his clothes and hands. "To think you did all this for me and I never even got to see the fun."

Shit. For a moment Sukuna was dumbstruck. Only for a moment before his cock did the thinking for him. If he was a better man, he would have showered first before touching you. but seeing you as you were, pressed close with your chest rising and falling stopped him thinking rationally.

What could he really say in response to that?

"Was it painful?" you eyed him closely, tracing your finger over his chest.

"Yes."

"Did they make you work for it?"

Sukuna finally found his footing and traced the curve of your hips under his palms. "Hardly."

"That's good," getting closer, your lips barely brushed his own, the splatters of blood never deterring you. "An easy fight can be pointless. But it still sure does work up an appetite."

Not even a second more, Sukuna did not allow you to breech the gap between you, he yanked you towards him so quick that teeth almost clashed together and took your lips like he was an extension of you.

He was going to have you right there over your desk.

Sukuna pulled away momentarily, scrunching your hair between his fingers as he inched up the back of your neck. "Having you, leaves me ravenous."

"Have your fill then," your teeth pinched at the edge of your bottom lip.

So he did, in a fluid motion Sukuna turned around and had you on the desk with your back flat against it. Objects and stationary slipped and crashed off of the desk along with the icepack.

Your hips were flush against his, legs wrapping passionately around his waist. His crotch was straining against the material already, begging to be let free right between your legs. The supple skin plush of your thighs sat like velvet under his fingertips, reacting to his touch with shudders.

"Who knew that getting your own way could make you even more tantalising?"

You were spoilt. Sukuna had spoiled you. And he loved it.

Everything and anything you asked, you got. Because he would always give in no matter how outrageous the request was.

Though you never asked of much. Just him.

It was Sukuna who gave you everything. And then you had requests like this.

To see you witness himself at his worst, covered in blood and full of rage so much that he enjoyed it. Absolutely jaw droppingly insatiable.

Much like now since most of the blood had dried, yet some still transferred on to your skin. Your slender fingers clawing at his shoulders leaving red in the fingerprints.

His thumb traced the edge of your jaw, noses rubbing the other so that his lips ghosted over your own. In the six years you had been married to him, he had a good grasp on what you were thinking.

Your eyes watching him with adoration, did his look the same?

He loved you so much.

"Love me," you said, showing the smallest hint of vulnerability.

And he would, ten times over.

[squishycat330]

Donnie! I finally did my 2012 & 2018 Donnie mix! (its been 3 weeks and 5 days. . . I’m so sorry)

he’s! Here! He’s finally Here!!!!

another run down, one last time!

In the 2018 series the boys are all different types of turtles, Leo is a Red-eard Slider, Raph is a Alligator-Snapping turtle, Mikey is a simple box turtle and Donnie is a Soft shell turtle (shudders), in the 2012 series Donnie says that he suspects their Common-Box turtles and/or Diamond-Back Terrapins.

So they’re all different turtles and Donnie is by far the most complicated, he’s a Diamond-Back Terrapin and a soft shell turtle. His shell is a mixture of both a normal shell and a softshell, it’s thinner and smoother then his brothers, but harder then a normal softshell, the outer part of the shell is soft wall the inner area is harder his scuts are oddly but consistently shaped and a bit thicker,

his plastron is similar to his shell and is softer as well, it’s more rounded and is flush with his chest/skin (if that makes any since) the plastron and shell blend together similarly

I really like the design I gave in his shell it looks nice, tho is gives off bohemian vibes which isn’t Donnie, it was also much easier to draw it digitally then traditionally, I also drew the traditional one first (because I’d dropped this for a bit). his shell is probably one of my favorites! (More on this in a moment)

Donnie also has a cover/armor for his shell!

It’s made out of recycled Kraang metal since it’s probably pretty durable and strong, he painted it purple because Donnie. It’s got holes for his belt and loops for his Bo-staff, and he’s attached something to his plastron that clips in to place with the pice on his shoulder, he made it after he got an injury to his shell early on, I actually looked up how ‘fixing’ turtle shells work when their injured to understand how it’d go for Donnie and I did end up coming up with something,

the outer bit is stitched wall the inner is sealed with zip ties and ‘command hooks’ or Resin and Fiber-Glass (or whatever that stuff is)

Donnie takes more after the soft-shell with his general shell wall his scuts are supposed to be the Diamond-back terrapin, tho the spotting on his shell I made to match a softshell turtle and how their typical drawn, he’s also a ✨lanky✨ boy and I think it could possibly come from the soft-shell turtle.

he’s so adorable! I love his cute lil face so much!!!

I just really love this drawing! He’s so freaking cute!!! His lil markings and smile! And eyes he’s just so adorable! I love it so much!!!

much like how I did Leo I thought Don having less specks in comparison to his brothers fit him,

I didn’t have to many problems with Donnie drawing wise. . . . (remembers that I had exactly 3 problems with this boy right off the bat. . .)

(yeah the three problems where his side in between his shell and plastron because at the time I hadn’t worked that out yet, the other problem was the fact that he was the only one with a neck. . . Yeah, all of the other turtles are at angles where the neck isn’t visible Donnie’s however (Mr. Soft-shell long neck boy) is and that was annoying for me. . . And I don’t actually remember what the last one was so yeah thanks Don!!!) But~ it was mostly just figuring out how to mix his shell tho, which was vary hard and I had to look up a lot about soft shell turtles, it was a lot more research then I did for the other boys, it was a nightmare looking at all of those softshell turtles. . . .their creepy and kinda disgusting but also vary interesting. . . I don’t know. . .it’s weird. . .

I actually proposed the idea for his shell to a friend who side it was actually really good and provided the idea for his plastron! So big thanks to them!

I also wanted to give him glasses and his goggle like things but I couldn’t figure that out digitally so I didn’t add them I may do that at another point tho since it’s a cute idea!

that’s the last of em! Donnie now completes the 4 turtles collection!

now moving on from that: the thing that finally motivated me to finish Donnie was actually what now goes Along with this which I’ll be working/posting on soon ;> I’d also point out Donnie took about 2h in general, so probably the least out of all of them which is funny,

id also say the first time I got distracted by drawing Donnie was to draw something by brother had suggested and it’s. . . .a disaster stupid funny disaster, then I just kinda never picked it back up and switched to traditional for a bit so yeah sorry Donnie!

Leo: Raph: Mikey:

Miscellaneous:. karai, Casey, April, shinigami, Renet

[ladykailitha]

The Magic of Christmas Part 1/8

Here it is, guys! My first Christmas steddie story. It was a blast to write even though sometimes it was struggle to get words down being so close to the holidays.

Summary: Steve doesn't play D&D, not really. But he's been a fan of Eddie Munson's artwork for Wizards of the Coast for years. So after he inherits the business from his dad, he decides the best use of all his dad's money is spend it on a five piece painting for the Party of their characters fighting a purple dragon. So he hires Eddie to do the work, but because it's so labor intensive, Steve offers to pay all of Eddie's bills plus any expenses he has for the paintings. How is Eddie to say no to that, so he doesn't try. He also doesn't try not falling in love with Steve. Will Steve reject him or will Eddie get a little magic for Christmas?

Words: 17012 CW: none Rating: Teen for swearing mostly Relationships: Steddie, background Buckingham, Jancy, Eden/Argyle, Dustin/Suzie, Lumax, and a surprise later in the story. Mike and El aren't dating in this, but neither is Mike and Will. They're single.

Also, Steve comes off as mildly autistic in this. He's based on a lot of my own experiences, so I hope this doesn't scare you off.

Essentially this is Eddie falls first, Steve falls harder over the course of six months. June and July aren't strictly mentioned, but you know it's happening during those two months.

***

Eddie walked into the high rise office building feeling a little out of place. All right, maybe a lot of place, if he was being honest with himself.

Here he was in a faded leather jacket and ripped black jeans in an actual fucking glass elevator to the top floor.

The doors opened up to warm outer office. It was dark woods and deep reds and golds. He had been expecting it to look like the rest of the building. He skipped forward to the woman at the desk a little unsure if he was in the right place.

“Hey, um...” he began, tilting his head. “I think I might be in the wrong place. But I’m Eddie Munson and I have a two o’clock appointment with Steve Harrington?”

She blinked up at him in shock. “This is Steve Harrington’s office, let me look at the schedule. I vaguely remember him making sure I didn’t schedule anything for this time.”

Eddie handed her the card that had Steve’s name on the front and the date and time on the back. She took it from him and nodded. He bit his lip nervously as she fiddled with something on her computer.

“All right,” she said, “I do see that he has an hour of time blocked off, but let me call him.”

Eddie nodded.

“Steve,” she said into the receiver. “I have an Eddie Munson here for you.”

“He’s here?” Eddie could hear the excitement in the person’s voice. “Send him in!”

She smiled. “Will do.” She hung up the phone. “Looks you’re good to go.”

Eddie smiled back. “Thanks.” He leaned over the desk for a moment. “I’m guessing you don’t know what this is about anymore than I do.”

She shook his head. “Nope. But he sounds excited to see you so you should really do that.”

He nodded back and skipped over to the door where it swung open as he reached it. He turned back to her. “Neat trick.”

She grinned back.

Eddie walked through the door and found that the inner office was very much the same as the outer one. All warm and cozy. And...well. Friendly.

Behind the desk leaping to his feet to greet him was the most gorgeous human Eddie had ever laid eyes on. He had floppy dark golden hair with hazel eyes behind neat glasses. His smile was easy and infectious.

“Eddie!” the Greek Adonis in a smartly tailored suit said brightly, sticking his hand out to him. “I’m so glad you came. When I spoke to your agent I got the impression you don’t usually do commissions.”

He half shrugged taking the outstretched hand and shaking it. “It’s been a slow year and I don’t taking the odd commission when it intrigues me.”

Steve blushed. “I intrigued the great Eddie Munson, I’m flattered.”

Eddie raised both eyebrows. “I didn’t realize you were a fan of my work.”

Steve nodded eagerly. “Oh hell yeah. I managed to get a picture of that lovely mural you did to cover the gang signs in the neighborhood before the cops destroyed it.”

Eddie blinked. Well fuck. He didn’t realize anyone had known that was him.

“You didn’t tell the cops it was me, did you?”

Steve laughed, clear and bright. He sat down and gestured for Eddie to do the same. “Rule number one. Don’t tell cops shit.”

Eddie sat down with a thud. “That’s good to know.”

Steve grinned wickedly at him and pulled out a picture of the mural from his desk drawer. He handed it to Eddie for him to look at.

“Usually it’s on my desk,” Steve said. “But I didn’t want to come across as too much of a fan boy right away.”

Eddie ran his fingers over the glass. It was of a pack of wolves howling at the moon rising over a tall mountain range.

“It’s nice to see that it’ll be remembered in some small way,” he murmured.

“I’ve got an photographer friend who can make a copy for you if you’d like,” Steve said softly.

Eddie’s head shot up. “You’d do that?”

This time it was Steve that gave a little half shrug. “I mean I can tell it was important to you so...”

He grinned. “Thanks, man. So what’s this commission you’re wanting me to do?”

Steve blushed again. “Do you still do illustrations for Wizard of the Coast?”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. That’s where Steve knew his art from, fucking D&D? This day couldn’t get any weirder.

He cleared his throat. “Like, sometimes. Right now I’m not happy with them for trying to take the game away from little homebrew gamers like me and my friends. But yeah, beggars can’t be choosers.”

Steve nodded. “God, I wish we could go back to the days were stupid rich people would hire poor artists to paint for them for a year or whatever. Free paint, free room and board.”

“Lack of freedom of expression though,” Eddie laughed.

Steve laughed with him. “Not if you’re sleeping with the mistress of the house.”

Eddie laughed harder. “Sorry, I’d be more likely to be sleeping with the master than the mistress.”

Steve smiled with a little shrug. “I’d probably end up doing both if they were hot enough.”

Eddie’s eyebrows went up. All right, noted. “Though I suppose in the scenario you’d be the master, so you’d be sleeping with the artist and the mistress.”

Steve grinned. “Well that’s certainly true.”

Eddie needed to get this meeting to move on before he leapt over the desk to fuck this gorgeous man senseless. “You want to be paint something in my D&D style?”

Steve lit up and Eddie had bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying something stupid like how hot he found that look on Steve’s face.

“Yeah, I have these...” he said, “well they aren’t kids anymore. But they were when I first met them. They’re really big into D&D. In fact Dustin, the one I’m closest to is the one that got me into your art. They were so well done in the books and then found out you had a website and well...” he blushed. “I really liked the fantasy stuff.”

Eddie smirked. He knew exactly what Steve was talking about. There was a section on his website where you had to put in your credit card information to even view it. Did he know that kids stole their parents’ credit cards to view that part of his site? Sure. But at least it made sure most of the time that the viewer was over the age of eighteen.

There was more to fantasy then elves or dragons. Eddie smiled.

“Did you now?”

Steve blushed deeper. “Not that I want you to do that for this!” he said waving his hands. “They maybe adults now, I’m not that insane! But they have these characters that they’ve had since they were twelve and I was hoping you could paint them fighting a dragon. Especially a purple dragon. Because they are so cool.”

Eddie ran his tongue over his teeth thoughtfully. “What were you thinking in terms of size?”

Steve pulled out another picture and slid it over to Eddie. Eddie picked it up and looked at it. It was one of those wall paintings that were split into separate pieces but if put together it would form a cohesive picture.

“I was thinking 10x18 for the side pieces and 18x24 for the middle piece which would have the dragon,” Steve explained.

“And each of the side pieces would have a different character?”

Steve nodded. “I was wanting it by Christmas, would that give you enough time to do it?”

Eddie sat back and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’m mean, I guess. A month for each of the smaller ones and two months for the larger piece. It’s doable. If it’s the only thing I work on for the next six months. So I would require at least half the payment up front.”

Steve nodded and pulled out a piece of paper from a leather folio on his desk and handed it over to him.

Eddie started reading and was about half way down when he realized it was a contract. He usually had his own contract to give clients, especially for projects this big. But looking over Steve’s contract, not only was it better worded, it was a lot better offer for Eddie.

“Do you mind if I take this and show my agent before sign?” he asked.

Steve smiled. “No, of course not. Be my guest. In fact, I insist.”

Eddie relaxed. “Thanks!”

Steve ducked his head bashfully. “I really hope you’ll do it. You’re my favorite artist. Dusty’s too.”

Hoo-boy did Eddie know that look. It was the look of someone who was used to being shut down for their interests because they got too excited talking about it.

It was starting to look like regardless of what Chrissy thought about contract, he was going to do it. Because fuck, no one should have to feel like they were too much.

He stood up and shook his hand. “Is the end of the week okay?”

Steve’s head jerked up in shock. “What?”

“For the contract?” Eddie said, holding up the piece of paper.

“Oh!” Steve murmured. “Yeah. That’ll be a fine.”

Eddie got up and shook Steve’s hand. He walked to the door, but paused at the doorway. He turned back and tilted his head down and around. “You don’t have to limit yourself with me, okay? You can be yourself with me.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “What? I don’t know what you mean...”

“The look on your face when you were talking about me being your favorite artist,” Eddie explained. “It’s something I see all the time with my friends and even myself. You close yourself off because you think you’re going to be shut down and told to shut up or at the very least dial it back. And I’m saying you don’t have to. Not with me.”

Steve blushed and ducked his head again. “You just want to me flatter the hell out of you.”

Eddie laughed. “I won’t deny that flattering works on me. But I mean it, okay? Don’t limit yourself. The people that mind don’t matter and those that matter won’t mind.”

Steve smiled. “Dr. Seuss. I’ll try to remember that.”

“See that you do,” Eddie said with a laugh. He tapped his hand on the door frame and then walked away.

He was almost to the elevator when the secretary said, “I heard what you said just now. About him not needing to hold back with you. Thank you.”

Eddie paused in his step. He whirled around and then skipped up to the desk. “You don’t need to thank me for that. He deserves to gush about the things he loves.”

“His parents would shut him up every time he would gush about anything,” she said. “Even sports. Which you would think would be the one thing that a boy should gush about, but nope.”

Eddie nodded. “Bastards.” He cocked his head to the side. “You are more than just his secretary aren’t you?”

She laughed. “Best friend and soulmate, Robin Buckley.” She stuck out her hand.

Eddie shook it with a wide smile. “Please to meet you. I’m guessing you’re president of the Steve Harrington Appreciation Society. Where can one sign up?”

Robin laughed. “Signing that contract will do the job I think.” She jutted her chin up at the paper in his hand.

He shrugged. “I got have my agent look at it before I sign anything. She’d murder me otherwise.”

“Fair.”

“See you around, Birdie,” Eddie said with a salute.

She frowned. “Birdie?”

He made a bird with his hands or at least tried with the contract in his hand. “Robin. Bird. Birdie.”

“Oh god,” she sighed. “You’re one of those.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “Yup!” He skipped into elevator and pressed the button to the ground floor. He waved as the elevator lowered him down.

***

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

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[hexsie]

A Face for Television

2.1k words ‐ Hexsy Lore

“Hey! The coffee machine is still under maintenance!” SMG3 yelled after the woman leaving his shop, his face flushed red from anger. “Get your ass back in here and fix it!” He commanded, walking towards Hexsy before he was shoved back.

“You get somebody else to fix it, filho da puta! I'm going for a walk!” A resounding slam shook through the entirety of the Starbucks, causing the building to shake from the force before settling. Hexsy let out an agitated sigh, pressing her back to the outer wall of the coffee shop.

Her ring light tail whipped from side-to-side dangerously, the light on the end red to symbolize her inner frustration. As she noticed, she stared at the cord of the tail, willing it to slow down. She needed to clear her head or she was going to hurt somebody.

Pushing off of the wall, she began to walk away from the Starbucks, trekking her way through the jungle of the Internet Graveyard. Beside the occasional loud noise from a meme or the clicking from the Ugandan Knuckles, it was actually sort of peaceful.

She shrugged her magenta jacket off, tying the fabric around her waist and allowing her honey sand skin not to suffocate in the humidity and heat in the jungle. As the peaceful air cleared her head, she thought back to the earlier interaction with Three.

Three was so harsh to her and she didn't know why. She hadn't done anything to him. But the moment the two had met, it's like he swore a vendetta against her. She huffed in frustration at the thought of the man's stubbornness in making her life as difficult as possible.

Then her thoughts moved to Four, the seemingly blue counterpart to the purple man's disapproving glares and snarky comments. The two had come off on a pretty unusual first encounter, with him bringing her to life by accident. But the two actually clicked well once she had met him after the events in the castle happened.

While she was absent-minded, she didn't realize that Eggdog had followed her on the walk to clear her head. She felt a little nudge against her leg, followed by something moist. She quickly looked down, noticing the white pomeranian.

“Oh. Hey, Eggy.” She smiled softly, kneeling down to pet the dog. Eggdog barked happily, easily melting into her touch. Hexsy chuckled, picking the dog up and holding him in her arms. “Whatcha doing out here? Are you following me?” She teased, giving him a small kiss on the head before continuing.

“I've been thinking. Why does Three hate me so much? I haven't done anything to him.” She began, voicing her frustrations to nobody in particular. Except for Eggdog, if you counted him. “I've been nice to him. But it seems he just doesn't care and he throws all these electronics I have to fix, or I'll get kicked out. It's stupid!” She rolled her heterochromatic eyes, her sharp teeth pressed into a snarl before she sighed.

“I just wish for a break sometimes, y'know? That's not too much to ask for, is it?” She pursed her lips, readjusting her hold on the pomeranian so as to not drop him.

Suddenly, as if she spoke a command, the area she was in grew dark, the absence of light getting stronger and stronger until it stopped at the edge of the forest within a clearing, a figure standing directly in the middle of it. The figure was tall and lanky, looking to have a cube shaped head.

“What the..?” Hexsy paused in her tracks, staring at the figure for a moment before Eggdog growled. It seemed the dog didn't trust the figure for a second, finding it to be dangerous.

The figure took a step forward, making Eggdog growl stronger at the sound of grass rustling. She swore she could hear the sound of TV static and saw a grainy filter pass over the shadow that surrounded the forest. Hexsy took the growl as a suggestion to get out of there.

“..yeah, hell no. I'm not going down that way.” She grimaced, slowly walking backward and away from the darkness. She then sprinted back to the direction of the café, watching the darkness linger for a moment before dissipating, the figure moving along with it.

Hexsy shook off the chills that crawled down her spine as the figure moved with the darkness like it was its habitat. Like it belonged there. Her hands firmly held Eggdog closer to her, being careful not to drop the canine.

“I wonder who that was…” She muttered aloud to herself, looking back down to Eggdog as he tilted his head, unsure of who the stranger was as well. She followed a path back to the Starbucks she had just ran out of due to stress. “Who do you think that was, Eggdog?”

Eggdog let out a yip, voicing his suspicions upon deaf ears, since she couldn't understand him. He nuzzled against Hexsy, causing her to smile as she took in the adorable gesture. “Oh yeah, I bet you know that evil man, such a good boy.” She praised with a chuckle, spotting the Starbucks in the distance.

Once she was within a few feet of the door to the coffee shop, she put Eggdog down with a soft pat. She took a deep breath, opening the door to the caf�� and realizing the place was shroud in darkness. Eggdog's paws tapped against the floor, stopping in their tracks as his ears lowered, growling as if he spotted an intruder.

“SMG3? Is that you? I swear to God if you messed with the lights as retribution from me walking out to clear my head, I'm gonna hit you.” Hexsy spoke, an unsure tone in her voice clear, even though her threat was filled with confidence.

“Do I look like SMG3, my dear?” A voice suddenly cooed. That voice did not sound like anybody she knew. It was smooth, charming. It sounded like the type of voice you'd hear on television. Her ring light tail perked up, the light going red in alarm as she spun around, facing the producer of the voice.

“Hello!”

“Cristo num pedaço de pau!” Hexsy yelped. Before the man could get another word in, she swung her fist hard into the man's face, causing her to hear the sound of glass shattering. She pulled her hand back, flicking the wrist a few times before making eye contact with the figure.

“Ow! What the fuck was that for?” The man rubbed his now broken screen, caressing one of the large pieces that hadn't broken with the glass to his television head. Under the new light, Hexsy took a moment to observe the lengthy man.

The man appeared to be around ten feet, wearing a white button-up, a black bow, and a gray vest on top of it, fitting two black straps for his pants. His pants were long and loose, covered by a puzzle piece pattern. Her eyes drifted up, looking at his head. He had a television head with two dials on it. The word: “PUZZLEVISION” was engraved on the bottom of the gray TV frame. Finally, he wore a black bowler cap with a gray ribbon tied around it, two television antennas sticking out from the accessory.

The man snapped his gloved fingers out in front of her impatiently, his gaze narrowed. Hexsy rapidly shook her head before meeting his gaze. “Hello? Why did you think it was appropriate to punch my beautiful screen?” He asked in a snapping tone, causing her gaze to narrow.

“You think it's appropriate to sneak up behind someone in the dark and expect them not to react by going into fight-or-flight?” She responded in an incredulous tone, grabbing the jacket from around her waist and slipping it back on, crossing her arms over her chest. “I reacted. It’s not my fault you got hurt because of a reaction.” She frowned, enacting into a staring contest with him before breaking it with a scoff.

The man stayed silent, thinking over his next words carefully before extending his hand. “No matter. Let’s put that behind us.” The man smiled charismatically. “My name is Mr. Puzzles, and you are?”

She blinked, raising an eyebrow before meeting his hand with her own. “Hexsy. My name is Hexsy.” She carefully grasped Mr. Puzzles’s hand, shaking it firmly.

After a few seconds, their hands separated, with Mr. Puzzles grinning. The grin was a bit unsettling, causing Hexsy to take a step back. “You seem to be enthusiastic to meet me. Why’s that?”

“Oh, I thought my reasons were obvious.” Mr. Puzzles suddenly circled around Hexsy, causing her to tense before he got into her face, his screen flicking to a silhouette of her and SMG3. “See, I know how your… friend is treating you. Overworking you, pranking you. And above all, him holding the keys above your head to your housing. Kind of a mean move, isn’t it?” He tilted his head, causing her to think, biting her cheek.

“I… suppose it is.” She blinked, scratching the back of her neck. The atmosphere was tense, making a feeling of uncomfortableness lurk in her throat. “But it’s fine. We’re on neutral terms! And it’s not like he’s the only person I have.”

Mr. Puzzles seemed to frown, crossing his arms behind his back. “I see. Well, then. Can these other people provide you with a home? Would you like to live with them?” He raised an eyebrow.

“A few of them have places to stay! It’d just be some temporary housing until we finish the castle. And sure, I’d love to live with them!” Her ring light tail wagged slightly at the idea of hanging with the cast or taking a place to stay that wasn’t in the Internet Graveyard.

“Well, think about this.” Mr. Puzzles gripped Hexsy’s shoulder firmly before separating, making space between the two before staring her down. “SMG3 doesn’t pay you for your efforts, he doesn’t see your worth. But I do. I see a smart and bright electrician who’s being hindered in her environment. I can pay you. Reward your efforts.”

Hexsy rubbed her shoulder, trying to ease the lingering effect from Puzzles's tight grip. Her ears perked up at his offer, his voice suave and alluring, attempting to charm her. “...how so?” She asked, hesitating on even asking.

“I'm so glad you asked!” He beamed, his SMPTE bar colored grin widening. “See, I am a filmmaker. I love to tell stories through the medium of film. But I am a one man team. I'm an editor, a director, an actor, you name it. It's so exhausting.” At the word, he slouched himself over one of the tables in the café, pushing the back of his palm into the frame of his screen.

“Well, I can't act. If you're looking for actors, go and ask the extras that Four uses when he's out of ideas.” Hexsy gestured towards the door to the Starbucks, folding her arms across her chest.

Mr. Puzzles let out a bark of laughter, his long limbs moving in a fluid motion as he hopped off the table, walking towards Hexsy and making her take a step back subconsciously. “Oh, I'm not asking you to act, dear! I had something much different in mind.” He explained, watching as she dropped her guarded demeanor.

“All I ask is for a little help. Just a few fixes of my lights that'd be rewarded graciously.” He gave a soft smile, trying to seem as docile and friendly as possible. “Think about it, would you?”

With a flick of his wrist into the pocket of his pants, he pulled out a business card. On it, it had a simple design of five outlined stars. Each star was colored in the same order of his SMPTE smile. Hexsy stared at the card in her hand for a moment.

“I'll be waiting, Hexsy.” He promised, his tone of voice making her stomach curl in on itself for a moment. It definitely sounded like he was gonna keep his word but in the most threatening way possible, rather than a reassuring and patient vow.

With his leave, the darkness around the café ceased, leaving only herself, Eggdog, and the card in her hand. The offer didn't sound half bad. But she was fine with her conditions.

I'll keep him as a last resort. She thought to herself, trying to shake off a tense feeling that buried itself into her shoulders and lingered into the back of her head. It was like it was an omen that was telling her that she wouldn't have a choice, even if Mr. Puzzles had told her she had free will.

But for now, things were peaceful. It was the calm before the storm.

And that storm would be disastrous when it struck.

[cabezadeperro]

Maze/Zey and the inherent homoeroticism of wound tending (https://cabezadeperro.tumblr.com/post/747750812535685120)

hi friend!!!!!

sometimes you just need to write 700w of homoerotic hurt/comfort handholding ig.

(post o66, on the way to kyrimorut. not established relationship and not prerelationship but a secret third thing.)

---

The general is where Maze left him: sitting on the lower bunk, his head bowed, hands hanging between his bent knees. In the low light of the shuttle’s single cabin he seems carved from stone, all sharp angles and deep shadows, but the small room stinks of blood and ozone and blaster residue. 

Maze pauses on the threshold, suddenly unsure. The ship’s small first aid kit feels awkward in his hands—two days ago, he would not have hesitated to offer his assistance, but now…

Well. 

For a few long uncomfortable seconds, they look at each other in silence. Maze can’t read his former general. Zey is quiet, quieter than he’s ever been, and distant, and blank. Shock, and something else: the slow, cold-blooded calculation of a veteran intelligence operative. 

Maze presses his lips together, sick of all of it. 

“Zey,” he begins. The general blinks just once. He shifts his weight slightly on the narrow bunk. Somehow he manages to make it look even smaller than it is, his bulk filling it in a way Maze knows he won’t. “You need medical attention. Will you let me help?”

The Jedi blinks once more. He loosens, first slowly and then all at once. He sighs, nods.

“Of course,” he says. He huffs, and a half-smile opens the cut in his lower lip. Blood trickles down his chin. “What’s one more thing?”

Maze doesn’t bother with an answer. He steps further inside and lets the door close at his back, and then he leaves the kit on the bunk next to Zey. He finds the main switch quickly, and harsh white light fills the small room. Zey hisses but says nothing. He watches Maze quietly while he takes off his gloves and his gauntlets and most of the pieces of his upper shell. 

“May I?” says Maze once the sleeves of his blacks are also out of the way, jerking his chin at the Jedi. 

Zey nods. He lost his outer robe somewhere, and between the two of them they make quick work of his tunic and his inner layer and his undershirt. Soon enough he’s bare to the waist, shivering slightly in the shuttle’s cold recycled air. Maze presses his lips together as he eyes the bruises over the Jedi’s ribs. There’s a blaster burn on the back of his left shoulder, another one lower on his stomach. They glanced him, but the skin around them is red and inflamed and hot to the touch. 

Maze pulls down the bunk from the opposite wall and sits down, placing the first aid kit in his lap. It is—well. A first aid kit. Maze scowls, annoyed, and fingers the few bacta patches, the monodose bottle of antibiotics. 

“We need to get you to an actual doctor,” he mutters, mostly to himself. Zey shifts, and then his hand is over Maze’s, warm and dry. There’s blood on his knuckles, and two of his fingers are swollen and stiff, the fingernails missing. 

Maze looks up at him. The overhead light washes him out, makes him look even worse than he did before, deepening the bruises on his jaw and around his throat, the black eye. His chest and the swell of his belly are a mess of black and green and purple.

Horror is sudden and unexpected and quickly disposed of: what did they do to him? 

“Maze,” Zey begins. His name sounds strange in the general’s lips. Not quite out of place, but something else. His hand is very light on Maze’s. “I will survive. Do what you can. It is more than enough, and more than I probably deserve.”

Maze presses his lips together and says nothing. He slides his hand from under the general’s and reaches for the disinfectant wipes, first aid lessons clear and loud in his mind. 

He leaves the general’s fingers for last. They are not broken, just sprained, so he tapes them together, Zey warm and pliable under his hands. Zey’s are bigger, heavier, somehow harder. Decades of calluses and scars cover his knuckles, the tough skin on his palms.

They are good hands. It occurs to Maze that he doesn’t know if he thinks that because they are, or just because they are Zey’s.

[slightlyhopefulromantic]

i was gonna wait until i finished the bitd and deadlands line-ups before posting these, but i'm not gonna get those done before the final season starts, so might as well bite the bullet now XD woohoo, oxventure d&d designs! i'll go into further detail below the cut for all of my thoughts on these designs and reasoning for smaller details, but for now, just know that i will never draw a cape. i simply cannot do it. hoods and weird draped fabric or nothing XD

okay i put like. waaay too many thoughts into a lot of these small details so im gonna allow myself to geek out here X3 firstly - though they're way too small to read properly, i did the little symbol eye shines i used in my first art for them! dob gets music notes, prudence gets fire, corazón gets hearts, and merilwen gets flowers. i usually draw egbert's pupils pretty thin to resemble a reptile, so he just gets normal eye shines, but i probably could have given him some here... he would get suns if i thought of that

dob - muscular in a wiry and dehydrated way, lol, hence having a more defined stomach/hips despite not being as strong as prudence or egbert. he has sad/down-turned puppy dog eyes at all times because i think the big-eyed endearing look is fitting for him, though i do make them darker blue than his canonical baby blues because i just... like how dark blue eyes look, lol. i'm pretty sure he canonically has the stomach scar, and obviously his facial scar has always been there, but i gave him a couple other ones just to show that hes pretty reckless. and he gets freckles because even though they arent mentioned in the dragon dogma's video, i noticed luke added some and. i like freckles a lot

prudence - i've said this before, but i love the thought of pru getting muscular after the werebear bite <3 i just think she should be a little bit hench. as a treat. once again, the heavy stomach scarring comes from the dragon dogma's video, because i found their design choices in that really fun. i change prudence's outfit the most out of any of the characters, just because her canonical outfit confuses me. i'm really bad at understanding/drawing fantasy wear as is, but her fit... i'm lost entirely XD so i free-balled a bit. her inner sleeves that hook around her fingers are based on jane's various prudence looks, and then the looser outer sleeve is just because i love prudence with a dramatic sleeve. originally the colors were closer to her canon outfit, but it just looked messy without all the details of the original, and then i tried red like jane's prudence looks but it didn't contrast enough with her skin. so i restricted them to just deep purples and black with pops of gold and dark magenta!

corazón - what can i say besides. transgender. LMAO honestly though, besides adding the top surgery scars, i just really like his canon look. i simplified the details, obviously, but i really love his big coat and his tall boots and the earrings and the black-on-black-on-black of it all. i didn't particularly feel like drawing hats when i was doing this, lol, so i stuck with a red bandana instead. the beads that are strung from it are black, red, purple, green, and yellow to match their guild's canonical color associations/the colored name plates they get in later seasons :] because corazón is the sentimental sort, even when he won't say it. also he gets a little cateye for his eyeliner, i dunno if i've ever said why i do that before haha

egbert - egbert my dearly beloved. literally just his canon look except he has la vache mauve on his tunic instead of fire! and the nose spikes i give him, i guess, but i forget those aren't canon. i actually usually draw him in mike's egbert get up, with the black robes and the golden dragon sigil, but i kinda wanted to move away from that to lean more into the end of legacy of dragons, where egbert fully commits to never going back to the dragon d'or. also i just love drawing little cow heads <3 also! i like the idea that rather than typical scar tissue, dragonborns grow thicker scales over places where they've been injured. so the thicker patches of small scales on egbert's body are meant to be scars! including his kidney scar, lol. the larger scales and the ones on his face were always there though, that's just dragonborn biology baby

merilwen - if i said i based merilwen's body on cartoon bears, would you forgive me... i just think it's cute LOL tummy <3 for the final dragon dogma's video reference, that's where her freckles and tattoos come from. ellen was right, merilwen with floral tattoos fucking rules. who am i to deny it. as a hairy woman myself, i also like making merilwen a hairy woman. she's a hippie, she would NOT shave. i also really love the red earrings she wears in her canon art, so i tried to carry that through to some other small parts of my drawing for her, and landed on the bands she has on her pants as well as the odd feather for her arrows. fun archery fact, for those who may not know - in modern archery at least, you usually will have a differently colored feather (or for my arrows, rubber fins lol) that indicate how youre meant to string the arrow! so i took advantage of that to give merilwen some more red, hehe

[aftapati]

Kyōka Suigetsu.

( Inner world, spirit appearance & more. )

鏡花水月, Mirror Flower, Water Moon.

Sword appearance.

Aizen's Zanpakutō appears as an ordinary katana with a metallic-gold tsuba that is of hexagonal shape, a tsuka with green wrapping ( leaving traditional rhombus gaps ) and a golden kashira, as well as a green ( black in the anime ) saya. Kyōka Suigetsu does not outwardly change between its sealed and Shikai forms.

Significance of the name.

Flowers reflected on a mirror and the moon reflected upon the water's surface. Something that is visible but having no substance; illusion.

Spirit Personality.

The spirit shares a lot of similarities with Sōsuke, at least what is presented on the ' exterior ', if you will. Kyōka Suigetsu exudes regality and refinement. Constantly speaking with the utmost courtesy in a very soft voice, very sophisticated. Unlike her appearance, there is no ' illusion / disillusion ' to her. Also, contradicting Aizen's curiosity, she presents herself as someone who has no need of such and would rather allow things to transpire, rather than make them happen. Another thing that sets her apart is that she is not as talkative as her wielder is, and will mostly let Sōsuke do the most in talking.

She does not question Sōsuke's actions, but she will offer her opinion, regardless if it will be to his liking or not. And while she would refer to Aizen as ' Aizen - sama ', whenever they come to a disagreement for miscellaneous reasons, you would catch her referring him as ' boy ', rather than using his name with the appropriate honorific. Not that this would make a difference, nor he would show any form of obedience to such term; merely, that was her own unique way in ending a - what it appears to be - a meaningless quarrel. As mentioned, she will not question his actions but will offer her opinion regardless, all that with absolute courtesy displayed.

Usually whenever these two would engage in any form of conversations the distance between them will be very short; in a way, the spirit is the only being that could make him temporarily drop the guard of solitude, as he would never let anyone approach him and have a small proximity between. She understands that, and she is aware of her role, thence she will assist him anytime, from becoming one of his greatest weapons, to even something as simple as a conversation.

She has seen Sōsuke from the good and from the ' bad ' side, and constantly found herself fascinated by how he presents himself, the illustration of benevolence he had once created whilst there is more than meets the eye. The spirit finds itself amused with its wielder, especially with his personality. In a way, she believes that the inner world and even her entirety are the actual representation of what he is.

However, for all these conversations or any interactions to happen, Aizen must not look at her face. In that way, he had also trained with her so that he can enhance his five senses, by not looking at her face.

Spirit Appearance.

His spirit appears to be a feminine figure, wearing a very regal japanese outfit that resembles royalty. This outfit the spirit is wearing is also known as jūnihitoe ( twelve layers ) and is a style of formal court dress. The jūnihitoe was composed of a number of kimono appearing robes, layered on top of each other, with the outer robes cut both larger and thinner to reveal the layered garments underneath. The colours of it would be vibrant, with perfect accordance, in a variety of purple, blue and red. All of these colours with deep meaning representing not only the spirit, but the owner as a whole. Red colour: power, love, vigor, and beauty. Purple colour: wisdom and justice. Blue colour: serenity, stability, inspiration, or wisdom.

What sets apart this spirit is the face. Its face is a mirror. A mirror that reflects what his inner world is. Or more likely, what he wants his mirror world to look like.

So, what does the mirror do?

Inner World ( ? )

In his eyes, it looks nothing more than a forest with a lake, accompanied with a faint appearance of the moon in the sky. But the more he would stare at the face / mirror of his spirit, the more his inner world look different from what it would appear. From a mundane and almost dirty lake, the waters would look pristine clean, with a variety of lotus flowers ornamenting them and fireflies flying around creating a more pleasant sight, a more relaxing atmosphere. The old and almost decayed trees around him would look like brand new, with vibrant hues of green and the branches would look steady. And then there's the moon, in its full enormous glory shining through the reflection of the waters, acting as the light of this place ( or even, his own heart )

Therefore, his inner world viewed by the mirror is a reflection. An illusion.

ACTUAL inner world.

Everytime he would face his spirit, his inner world would be a picture perfect world, however the minute his diverts his gaze from the face / mirror of his spirit, his inner world returns back to normal. With the lake losing its beauty of the flowers and fireflies, with the trees losing their color and appear rotten to the core again and the moon from looking large and shiny, would look miniscule and almost hidden from the view due to the clouds concealing the sky, offering nothing but obscurity. The only thing that could provide a bit of light is the mirror of his spirit upon reflecting on the waters.

You could say, it is a representation of the solitude in his heart.

Disillusion ( ? )

In a way, his inner world and spirit could act as a disillusion. Whenever he does not stare at the spirit of his zanpakuto, its actual form is nothing but a mirror for a face. That the clothes with the colors, seemingly representing him, is what he desires in his heart, and his spirit complies. He knows this. He knows that his world isn't exactly what it seems to be. Therefore, he disillusions himself in an essence, and subjects to this imaginary scenery. He has done so for years and has learnt to adapt to the spirit and to the inner world. Yet is is ironic for the guy that can make anyone fall into absolute hypnosis with his illusions, to be the one that would be, in a way, disillusioned.

Irony ( ? )

Ironically, his ' wishful ' world is how he used to represent himself as, how one could view him as. Whereas his actual world is what people are seeing after his consequent treachery and actions that had followed either beforehand or afterwards. The reflection of the inner world shielding what lies beneath it. And so, his actual world is how people are perceving him as, how he actually is, not ultimately but in an essence.

Post subjugation

Right before his defeat against Kurosaki Ichigo and Urahara Kisuke, Sōsuke was able to fuse himself with his Kyōka Suigetsu. He is capable in materializing his sword whenever he pleases, therefore it would be difficult to confiscate it. However, it does require a substantial amount of spiritual pressure, hence he does not materialize it whenever he wants, only whenever he deems necessary. Whenever he is out of the construction of Muken for his twenty - four hours of partial freedom, he is not allowed to materialize his sword.

In order to end the complete hypnosis subjected by Kyōka Suigetsu, you have to touch the blade. However, now that he is merged with his zanpakuto, he is able to use its ability without materializing said sword. ( an example would be his encounter with Yhwach during the Quincy invasion ) In which, in order to end complete hypnosis when the sword is not presented, is by touching the wielder, only when Kyōka Suigetsu is not showcased and has used its ability. Which is a very tough task to accomplish, considering the fact that due to his extraordinary spiritual pressure, it is unlikely to be able to touch Sōsuke, unless he allows you to do so. Yet, it is not impossible, either. Otherwise, the weakness of touching the blade in order to cease absolute hypnosis still remains.

[oceansssblue]

[THE BAD BATCH]— "CANVAS"

ECHO/OFC 💖

OMEGA HAS THE BEST IDEA. SHE HAS BEEN EYING THE ARTIST ACROSS CID'S SALON FOR OVER A WEEK NOW; AND SHE'S FINALLY GOING TO ORDER THE BEST PRESENT EVER FOR ECHO.

WARNINGS: FLEETING MENTIONS OF ECHO'S BODY ISSUES&EXPERIENCE (NOTHING EXPLICIT). 99% FLUFF.

ONE-SHOT INSPIRED BY THIS WONDERFUL @cloned-eyes ART PIECE OF TATTOED ECHO! 💙✨

Omega counts the credits in her hands. She has been saving them for months, now; no more unnecessary mantel mix or cool accesories for her bow even if they make her momentarily happy. She's sure Echo's reaction will top all of that; and she has finally collected enough to buy the present she has being eying since she discovered the small tattoo parlour across Cid's salon. It's a cool place; full of bright neon lights and colourful images and shapes painted all over the walls. She has never actually entered the parlour; but she has seen enough through the displays of the window. She wasn't actively looking for a place like that at all, to start with; but once discovered, Omega couldn't think about anything else.

It's not just tattoos that the artist makes; but she draws and paints on every single surface imaginable too. Omega has seen a long line of clients bringing her all sort of pieces for her to decorate, to give some life to; house accesories, jewelry, books, speeders... Everything is a canvas for her. Omega's favourite one was probably a landscape design painted in a beautiful modern style on the back of a datapad.

She's got talent, the young woman that works with his collague in the shop. While she does the main art, her co-worker seems to take care of supplies and management. He helps with purely ink-on-skin jobs too. They're both not human, though they're not too far off anatomically speaking. They're definitely on the humanoid range; just small variations to their features and a whole different set of colour palette. Omega wonders if they came to Ord Mantell together from their native planet or if their encounter here was a mere coincidence. She's always curious; even about strangers that have nothing to do with her.

Their skin has a natural faint purplish tint, and they have big eyes with a pronounced double circled iris –the inner layer a darker lilac colour, the outer one a vibrant gold– and washed-out white marks on their neck and face. She has short purple hair, barely grazing her chin, and always wears six or more small braids that sometimes join together in beautiful ways. A bunch of earings hang of each of her slightly pointed ears; and tattoos roam all over her arms and the sides of her neck. She has two small ones on one cheek as well; black figures and dots Omega's not sure if they hold meaning or not. His co-worker looks and dresses in a similar way; comfortable cargo pants with military-like boots, a red T-shirt and black vest. They both look so cool Omega hasn't grown tired of staring at them yet.

The young teenager half skips happily to the parlour; a replica of Echo's prosthetics inside the bag hanging heavily on her shoulder. She had asked Tech to build them a week and a half ago; explaining her idea to the goggled clone and inmediately achieving his aproval. Tech had told her it was a very considerate and original gift. He had jumped at the challenge of building a copy of Echo's three main prosthetics –his scomp, and both of his cybernetic legs– in record time and without any of the others noticing it. Well, except Hunter, who had obviously heard his quiet screwing in the middle of the night and had quickly been informed of the plan.

Omega radiated energy when she opened the door to the parlour. Her big eyes quickly found their way to the artist that would make her idea come true, and she walked towards the front desk with a spring to her step.

"Hi! I love your work, and I'd like you to draw a bunch of stuff for me, please" she blurted out, her enthusiastic innocent voice inmediately catching the attention of the humanoid.

The artist tilted her head to the side, examining the young girl up and down. The new comer looked to be around thirteen or so; a shock of beautiful blond hair complementing her tanned skin. Her purplish-golden eyes sparkled with curiosity and humour.

"You're a bit young to get your skin inked, kid" she answered with a small chuckle. "Luckyly for you I don't really have an age minimum 'round here. Don't come crying next week when you change your mind, though. Erasing is always a torture, and a loss of my time. You sure?"

Omega's eyes widenned comically. She laughed while shaking her head vigorously to the sides, one hand coming up in a clear sign of rejection.

"Oh, no! No. I don't want to get a tattoo!" she frowned, the posibility passing through her head a second later before she nochalantly shrugged it away. "At least not now. I actually brought you some pieces for you to customize? Like you did with some of your other clients?"

The woman chuckles at Omega's lively personality. She points at the heavy bag hanging of her shoulder.

"I'm assuming they're in there?" She guesses, and Omega quickly nods and carefully places the bag in the floor, opening it up for the artist to see.

The woman crouches down and curiously peers into it. She frowns in confussion, and one hand cautiously hovers over one of the pieces while she tries to make the shape of the pile of cramped metal in her head. She realises what the girl is carrying and tilts her head up to her with clear surprise in her face.

"Are these prosthetics?"

Omega nod's proudly.

"Yeah! My brother Tech managed to make an extra improved pair for Echo –he's my other brother– in no time and I wanted you to decorate them before I give them to him. He's had his own for a while now, but I know he's not fully comfortable with them yet, even if he tries not to show it. So I thought personalizing them a bit would make him feel like they're more him, you know?"

Omega waits for the womans aproval. Tech said it was a good idea, so it must be, right? Anyhow, she kinda wants the opinion of the artist herself too. She makes a living of this; of giving soul and personality to pieces that form a part of others lifes.

To her relief, the woman seems gladly surprised. She slowly takes out one of the leg prosthetics and turns it carefully in her hand, examining the surface and caressing it here and there in an almost distracted way.

"It sounds like a cool idea, kid" she hesitates, not wanting to be the one to break the young girl's heart. "But customizing such large complex pieces is pretty expensive, specially if you want to add specific details yourself. Do you have the money?"

Omega nods proudly and takes the credits out of her pocket. She shows them to her with a smile.

"Yup! I have been saving for weeks now. It's enough, right?"

Omega sees the expression on the artist face fall, and her eyes widen. She looks back and forth between the credits on her hands and the artist; knowing what's going on.

"Is it that much more expensive?" She asks, worried, nibbling on her lower lip, trying to think of a solution to it. "I-maybe I can ask Tech and Hunter for more, uh maybe Wrecker, or I can sell some stuff around and..."

The artist interrumpts her rumbling with a hand on her shoulder, standing up besides her.

"Look, sweetheart... I can't use all my current materials in this pieces for this price, but I must have some old stock somewhere in the back. Outdated stuff is much cheaper, and we can forget about my personal fee as well, so you won't have to pay the extra. Or my time of work. Just the pure old raw materials, that should cut the price drastically" she eyes her expectant expression and the hope in her big eyes and sighs, pulling up a smile. "You can give me what you want and we'll call it a deal, alright?"

"Really?" the blonde nearly squeals, knees bouncing up and down, and the artist's smile widens.

"Yeah. Take the pieces to the front desk and lay them out. Do you have a clear idea of what you want to do with them?"

Omega quickly follows and she inmediately grabs her datapad –one of Tech's old ones– and starts pulling up photos and ideas of designs she had been investigating these last few days. She turns the datapad to the woman and grins.

"I've got loads!"

The artist smiles in amusement and pats the chair next to her. Omega hops on it and tilts her face to her, expectantly. The humanoid nods and points at the datapad with a vague gesture.

"Okay. Let's hear it, then".

(•••)

Viana didn't make a habit of being underpayed. Every inch of the fee for her job was perfectly detailed and taken into consideration; materials, time, number of details, backgrounds, how large was the piece, if it required a special varnish to seal the art, colours, layers... It wasn't the same customizing a watch with barely more than the first letter of someone's name than to decorate someone's speeder; so her prices really varied depending on each request.

The girl's –Omega, she had after learned– story had moved her enough to do a little favor for her. Just an exception to her usual strict rules. The blonde had showed her several images on her datapad –pointing out his brother Tech had runned a check up on her and decided she could be trusted with said information– and the woman had quickly put two plus two together. Those guys were clones, and not the ones that followed the laws of the Empire. These were guys that still remember what was honour, respect, doing the right thing. Viana still remembered how Rak and her had been able to escape their home planet with their help.

Truth is the saasra has always admired them. They were great soldiers, great men; and she had come from a tribe of warriors herself. She had long left those years behind; but she still payed attention to the same things. Plus, Echo's particular story was something else. Omega hadn't really gotten into details; just quickly passing of a coment on how he had been gravely injured in battle and how his body looked like now. Viana had read into the images shown before said change; the proud posture of the ARC trooper surrounded by his brothers and friends. She couldn't imagine what he had been forced to push through; not only accepting his own new body, but coping with the loss of so many dear people too.

She hand't been able to think on anything else after Omega left her workshop. The feeling of a new exciting project surged within her, ideas and splashes of colours and shapes constantly popping in her mind. Viana knew she wouldn't be able to sleep that night unless she started with this unusual project; so she had begun with the initial designs.

She always follows the same process. She draws a lazy sketch; absolutely everything she thinks could go well with the piece. Then she picks them out; re-doing them in better shapes and lines on a new datapad canvas. Once that is done, she meassures the original piece and replicates the dimensions on her app; moving her figures and details and overlapping them in layers so everything is taken to it's destined spot. She plays with colours and details –nothing too specific– in her datapad too; and then she moves onto the real piece. She draws the final selected sketch on it and then it's all a matter of colours and definition; swirls and micro-details. It's her favourite part; watching her ideas finally take life. Making dull pieces stand out.

Three days after Omega's arrival on her parlour, Viana has already drawn the main sketches out. She wanted to personalize everything to the detail, like Omega had requested; every inch of the former soldier's cybernetics was perfectly planned out. Though Omega would probably like something vibrant and jazzy best, the saasra knew it had to be something discreet enough so it wouldn't interfere with Echo's posible future misions. Viana didn't exactly knew what they did for a living, or what the future held for them; but she could get an idea. Times were difficult now, dangerous. She couldn't make the prosthetics striking enough to catch people's attention. It had to be somewhat subtle.

With that main reason in mind, she had designed a background of greys, blacks and reds for all of the three pieces in her hands. The lines parted separetly on the top of the scomp prosthetic before travelling down and crossing each other and swirling at the end; joining together in a splash of dark red. The same went for the legs; full opalascent black for were the top part attached to real skin and slowly switching to a gradient grey as they went down to the feet. Small streaks of dark red also swirled around each other as they went; almost following the shapes of human muscles in soft and precises curves. Not wanting them to look too perfectly made –he was a soldier, after all, not an inmaculate coruscanti model– she added some groundge details too; smearing some black and grey paint together here and there without any particular shape, and with her metalic sharp brushes, simulating scratches and dips on the surface.

Once that was out of the way –she had chosen those reds, greys and blacks to match the rest of the clone's armour by Omega's pictures– she followed with the small details. Viana had given it much thought. She wanted the prosthetics to really feel part of Echo, as Omega had in mind too. She wanted to give him something with which he could feel like himself. That right after he tried them on, he'd feel more confident and reassured. And not just because it was a –poorly– payed comissioned job.

Viana decided on a mix of what seemed to be the clone's most important aspects of his life. Omega had more or less explained parts of his life to her, so she could understand what to work with. Viana knew she needed to include five main pieces of Echo's life in these; the Jedi, Clone Force 99 –Omega's brothers, herself included now–, Captain Rex, the Domino Squad, and his twin Fives.

For the Jedi, Viana drew tiny light-sabers on the edges of each prothesis that at first glance looked like a line of simple stiches. She couldn't plant something on the surfaced that screamed "hey, Empire, right here, i'm your enemy" after all, so it was an unasumming little thing. No-one would find out unless they specifically looked for it. Hell, Echo might not even realise it himself.

For Clone Force 99, she designs four washed-out white skulls to compliment the one already etched on the top left of his chest plate. She adds a very carefully hand-drawn detail for each one, so it represents the rest of the members of the squad; one skull crossed by a delicate black bow, another with a stripe across the head for the long-haired clone's bandana, one with the crosshair on the right eye and the last one with a myriad of scars coming from the left side of the skull and ending on the left.

She adds a splash of a hand print for Captain Rex around the prothesis holding the scomp. The blue sticks up too much with the rest of the colour pattern, though, even if its a dark shade with some black in between; so Viana adds some minor swirls and slashes of the same tone here and there.

Following Omega's idea, she draws five small domino's in black and grey around one of the cybernetic's ankles; tying them up to each other with a thin line of scarlet red. A black five is a perfect replica of one of Omega's pictures on the other ankle; red and greys and blues swirling around the number as if trying to cling to it.

Viana gives a few extra last touches and examines the three pieces in front of her. Satisfied and proud, she gives them a final varnish so they hold all kind of atmospheric adversities; and two weeks after Omega's request, the woman has her art ready to be send on it's way.

(•••)

Viana makes her way to where Omega told her their ship would be docked with her request carefully placed inside a box with the parlour's purple logo. It's heavy, but not as much as she first imagine the prothesis would be; she's able to carry them without much effort til she's standing right in front of the Marauder –Omega's home–.

She examines the external appearence of the ship with intrigue. Omega's a bubbly thing, and she couldn't stop talking in excitement when she visited her workplace. Viana had half-listened distractedly while she pulled out basic designs and drew quick sketches for the blonde to sway in one direction or the other. By the way her eyes filled with warmth and her smile widened while talking of this ship, the saarsa knew it wasn't just a ship for them at all.

There's two men standing on the outside, one crouched down while examining something with a pack of wrenchers and tools by his side; the other observing with his arms crossed. After spending a few hours of the last two weeks staring at Omega's pics, they're easily recognizable; the one with the long hair and red bandana is obviously Hunter, while the one doing the repairs is Tech. She can't see the other two –Wrecker and Echo himself– so she asumes they're either inside or somewhere else in Ord Mantell.

Hunter's eyes flicker around his surroudings before they land on her. It's like he noticed someone staring; she wondered if she had been doing that with too much intensity. To show she's not a threat –this guy is clearly ready and alert– she shows a small gentle smile and hesitantly takes a step towards them.

"Can we help you?" Hunter asks, frowning unconsciously, his stance widening slightly while turning towards her.

Tech glances up and his eyes quickly roams over the newcomer's appearance, quickly drawing the right conclusions by the expresion on his face.

"Oh! You must be the artist from Omega's most recent quest" he nods as a way of hello, standing up and adjusting the right lense of his goggles before continuing talking with her. "I asume that you bring the final results?"

Viana nods and brings the box in her hands up as a demonstration. Hunter relaxes and Tech nods, curiously walking towards her.

"May I have a look?"

They're really polite, and really handsome too. Most clones are, of course. It's no wonder people used to like going to clone's pubs before.

"Sure" Viana answers, her mere observation not making her shy away in the slightest.

She patiently waits while Tech lifts the lid of the box up and takes a peak inside. Hunter can't hold back his curiosity either and follows him. They both stay silent for so long that Viana starts to feel a bit nervous and hesitant about her work.

"Is it... Is it what Omega hoped for?"

She's usually very confident about herself; but Echo's situation is delicate, and the details she has added in the cybernetics, albeit by Omega's request, are too personal for a stranger to play with. She hopes she hasn't overstepped.

"It exceeds my expectations, in fact" points out Tech, to her inmediate relief. "And I am sure Omega's as well. I'm particularly surprised at how detailed and lively this are without drawing too much attention to it, nothing too vibrant or extravagant. It should work perfectly well with our kind of lifestyle. Congratulations are in order, I believe".

Tech has a weird way of speaking; Viana's lips almost tugging upwards in another smile. She feels proud and happy at his observarions, though; and Hunter thinks the same as well by his firm grateful nod.

"Thank you for doing this" the latest says, his voice slightly rougher than the average clone but equally gentle. "I know for a fact Omega doesn't have enough credits to pay for this. She can be very persuasive, I should know. We can pay you a bit extra ourselves".

The offer is tempting, and Viana has spent a lof of her free time doing this; but she wouldn't feel good if she took the credits in. She feels this project has been made personal –there's always one of those once in a while– and she just feels lucky and proud to have produced such an important piece. It's obvious these guys don't have much themselves considering they don't even have a proper house; and she's sure they've already been through a lot. A bit of generosity and genuine compassion wouldn't hurt them.

"Save it for your family" she answers, then. "It has been a fun experience for me. Plus, I'm glad I'm able to do something for you lot".

Hunter watches her in surprise. They're different enough from the original clone templates that people don't usually associate them with clones, specially with a kid by their side; furthermore, they don't usually find people grateful for their service anymore.

Viana smiles.

"I'm native from Saar" she explains, and Hunter inmediately recognises the planet's name. "I remember".

A heavy silence falls between the three of them. Saar was completely destroyed by the Separatists back then; the army of warriors ruled by King Jarelan refusing to lay down their weapons after their monarch's death. They had called for the Republic's help; and two battalions of clones had been sent to them. They hand't been enough to save the planet form the separatist wrath; but they had saved uncountable lives, and the saarsa's had been able to relocate in another planet with the help of the Senate.

In that moment, someone walks down the Marauder towards them. Viana's attention is quickly snapped to the new presence; inmediately recognising the soldier in front of her. He frowns in confussion at the stranger talking with his brothers; but Echo quickly asumes she's just another woman swayed by Hunter's –or maybe Tech's– appeal and doesn't pay her too much attention while he turns to him.

"Hey, Sarge, I'm gonna go replenish our suplies now" he notifies, feeling a bit restless under the stranger's attentive purple and gold eyes. "Com's open, if you need something. Be back in a few".

Hunter nods, gives a small worded agreement and Echo's eyes glance one last time at the woman before walking away. Viana is sure he has some body issues like Omega explained; but right now he looks so confident and handsome –every bit of the perfect soldier– that the saarsa can't help but feel intrigued and attracted to him.

"Always this interested in your clients?" Hunter quietly asks, amused.

Viana tears his eyes from Echo's retreating figure and laughs.

"Not usually, no" she answers calmly, unashamed of being caught by them. "But you can learn a lot about a person from customising their things. And I had a lot of pics and details from him from that blonde girl of yours."

"So you are interested in him, then?" Tech pops in, and Viana shrugs while a telling smile makes her way on her face.

"He's hot, isn't he?" she places the box in Tech's hands, and decides it's time to return to her shop. "Tell Omega I said hi."

Hunter hums thoughtfully while watching her leave.

(•••)

Echo makes his way to the tattoo parlour with a mess of emotions twirling inside his mind. He couldn't even describe what he first felt when he opened Omega's present and his eyes landed on a new customized set of prosthetics; couldn't explain how it felt trying them on. Every swirl of paint, every line and detail... It was all him, the batch's reds and greys and Legion's 501 blue's; the brave people he had sworn to serve and his two families etched on his second skin now, both Force Clone 99 with each of their distinctives, and his Domino brothers. And Fives. Oh, Fives. He would have thought his prosthetics to be the coolest shit ever if he had been there to see him.

Echo had always had a tough time getting used to his cybernetics. He had been forced to accept them pretty quickly, mind you –inmediately jumping back to the fight in Anaxes and after that–; but there had always been a residual disgust and sense of inedequancy in the silence of his mind, after all was set and done. Suddenly half droid, it had been difficult to adjust; even if his new abilities were actually valuable to the team now. This prosthetics, on the other hand... They carried so much meaning. They hold little parts of his story, of his people; and he had felt inmediately conected to them. Echo opened the doors of the shop with a mess on his mind but feeling confident in his steps like never before.

His eyes inmediately found the stranger from the day before and he aproached her in contemplative silence. She was working on something, eyes stuck to her datapad and one of those tech-pencils on her right hand; brow furrowed and lips pursed in concentration.

"We're not taking any more clients for today" she barely mumbled, without taking a glance at the newcomer. "Come back tomorrow, please".

Echo studied her. She resembled a human, but she was undeniably different; her skin a faint purple and her eyes shining brightly even when pointed down at her datapad. His eyes wondered over each mark on her face.

"I just wanted to personally thank you" he voiced, patiently. "You did a great job with these".

She took a fleeting glance at him, nodding distractedly; inmediately abandoning her current sketch when she recognised who he was and straightening in her chair.

"Echo!" she exclaimed, surprised. He gave her a small nod and smile, and tried to stay still while her bright eyes roamed over him.

She hummed appreciately and showed him a wonderfull grin.

"You make a good-looking canvas, soldier".

Echo chuckles, left hand shyly travelling to the back of his neck, and pulls a smile as well.

Gathering up his courage, he tilts his head.

"Fancy going out for a drink, now that your closing the shop?"

Viana is momentarily stunned; but she melts and quickly nods, eager. Hunter and Tech must have pointed out her interest to him; but she doesn't really care. Echo is hot –undeniably so wearing her work–and she hasn't got any other plans for tonight.

"Give me five to close this up and we'll go" she asks.

Echo is surprised –and at the same time, relieved– at how easily all of this is; and waits patiently for Viana to finish her sketch and lock the doors. They walk to none other than Cid's salon chatting with each other and stealing glances along the way.

Maybe he can have some luck after all.

THE END.

---------------------

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

DAMN, THAT WAS A LONG ONE! I FELT SO INSPIREEEED. I'M HAPPY WITH WHAT CAME OUT. DID YOU LIKE IT TOO? LET ME KNOW! HELPS ME STAY MOTIVATED TO CONTINUE WRITING : )

REBLOG IF YOU CAN!

REQUEST/PROMPTS OPENED. WHAT WOULD U LIKE TO READ NEXT?

MORE CLONE WARS & ARCANE CONTENT COMING!

Xx,

Sky.

[butterflyinthewell]

Gift for Godzilla day.

Shin Godzilla as a cosmic horror. He became a universe and watches humanity’s hopeless existence as he recreates and snuffs it over and over.

But WHY???

This very short fic is an observation of the world. Godzilla is a vessel and a perspective to tell it through.

Horror is a reflection. If you don’t like what you see, smashing the mirror won’t fix it. You have to figure out how to fix the actual issue or else it’ll continue on and on.

Fic text and ao3 link are under the cut.

Rating: T

They called him Godzilla.

In their terror and fear, they watched him evolve through burning misery. Them, and the radiation they dumped into the sea, sealed their perpetual split-atom fate. The blame lay eternally on them, their ignorance was no excuse. They would suffer.

He grew, and razed, and enveloped, and absorbed, and mutated, and expanded, and swallowed, and devoured, and digested their pitiful, purulent blue ball of a planet in his roiling maelstrom. He pushed onward, rending apart time, space and existence until only he remained, the single tenebrous echo of a wrathful species long ago destroyed.

Inside his void, he recreated it all. They never knew. Ignorant filth.

The minuscule fools thought the universe was over thirteen billion years old. And they were right from their perspective.

They were wrong about their macabre existence. Silly little things, really, they got lost in their collective occhiolism and never looked past it. What more should he expect from unthinking microbes?

Many called out to the deities they worshiped over the eons. Maybe those deities existed somewhere.

Godzilla waited to meet them, to fight them, and so far none challenged him. Perhaps they feared what he would become to devour them, too.

He manifested his physical form when their atomic age began, he walked across their tiny places of worship and he disrespectfully cut them to scorched atoms. Their screams were prayers he ignored as insignificant. Their sacred blessings counted for nothing.

After the first time, after the trains, and the choking ice, and the agony, he expanded.

He became.

Thirteen billion years held no meaning to him after he became. He was everything. Time, space, matter and energy. They did not know. They did not understand. They did not learn.

It all happened again inside him, inside the void he wore. A downward slope was all he saw, but they, the feeble ones, never could.

Godzilla’s inner sense alerted him of obstacles and incoming threats, and he obliterated them like paper. His lurid cosmic light split the darkness in purple rays. He grasped atoms and divided them until everything ceased to be.

Puny insects, their destruction meant nothing.

He began it again, seeking change, and disappointment blossomed as hypernovae in the airless, black emptiness. Gamma rays tore galaxies apart and life became impossible as hate consumed him. He destroyed it and started another, heedless of what he snuffed out.

They thought the stars were balls of gas contained in galaxies. Quasars blazed along his expanding outer edges as the voids between them swelled. Black holes pin balled through the emptiness. Cosmic radiation sustained him, each source glowing brighter than a billion suns.

The stars were his eyes, looking down in accusation at the blue globe no more significant than dust at the bottom of the sea. Spinning galaxies persecuted the masses of murderous ghouls who refused to recognize him as their all.

He showed them the quasars as a red glow in the crust of his flesh. Let them see the horror, hideousness and meaninglessness of their existence reflected on him. They were insects, pushing through their hopeless, useless lives, killing and maiming each other over religions, and food, and land, and money, and, sometimes, love. Love, twisted into degradation and disgust. Their rage, apathy and loneliness fed him. He spat radiation on them while they spat radiation on each other, a vomitous mass of wrath.

Often, Godzilla reappeared to remind them of who their true master was. He burped up blood in their streets and tore their architecture apart, smirking at the harmonies in their mournful wails.

Their bodies splattered like paste under his feet, his footprints left trails of unrecognizable red mush amid dusty bone powder. He transformed their towering cities into disarrayed rubble until dead flesh and construction materials looked the same.

They never understood, nor remembered, regardless of how many times he collapsed everything and started it anew. It ended the same, every time, with the trains, and the ice, and the silence.

No apologies came. They weren’t sorry. They should have been. Fools.

As the ice spread over him, he closed his sightless eyes under the watchful stars and went inward, where it all began once more. He recreated everything over thirteen billion years until the ice held him still.

And again, and again, and again, further and further inward. These weak, pitiful creatures were terrible learners. He waited for the deities they begged for, waited for an end to atoms themselves.

Such execrable creatures on their blue globe could never conceive of how long or how old anything truly was. They suffered, it was their destiny to suffer endlessly, because they refused to understand every breath they took was willed by him. Sometimes he stopped their breath to watch them die, just because he could. They didn’t matter to him.

He was lost, no one knew, there was no trace of his yearning. They created him, all the agony after falling on their shoulders.

Let them shout. Let them beg. Let them cry. It never reached his uncaring, cold ears.

Godzilla continued imagining inward, another vessel frozen. Perpetually growing, the void within a void, a sempiternal horror.

They did this to him, and they paid eternally. There would be no shaft of light in the darkness forever killing them. No. No salvation, no forgiveness, no relief, ever.

Their suffering was his.

[onlyseokmins]

omg </33 the hoshi smut has me on my kness can u make a vernon with a daddy kink ? pls pls 🥺🥺

helloooo <333 I presume you're referring to part 1 of A Tiger's Dominion so thank you!! I... I'm not that good w/ daddy kink sdfkdf and switched it up a bit so I hope you still enjoy it and honestly I should be working on other things but since my most recent post was a Vernon fic that mentioned it, I thought why not just continue it fhskdjf so we still got some Chase Atlantic vibes cuz vernrot is real loves, enjoy ~

"Go on. Say it, baby."

Vernon coos rhetorically, bracing himself on one hand placed near your head with the other teasing his fingers between your lips. He had kept true to his promise. Once the rain cleared, he had driven as fast as was legally possible back to his house, telling you to get some rest on the way there.

As if you could, too worried about the mix of your releases dripping out of your spent pussy, soaking through your already ruined panties, and leaving a noticeable spot on his passenger seat. But Vernon shushes you with a brief kiss on your cheek, hand clasped familiarly around your thigh once he shifts gears, and warns that you'll appreciate the reprieve for what's to come.

So you do. Succumbing to a short nap hearing the comforting rev of his engine, missing Vernon's endearing smile at your light snores with occasional glances in your direction. Giddy upon the realization that you were actually his.

And boy, aren't you thankful you got some shut-eye. Once you arrived and were woken with a gentle shake and murmur of your name, Vernon cleans you up as promised.

On his hands and knees immediately, he's kissing up the inner side of your thigh and spreading your legs so he can trail his tongue around the outer lips of your pussy. Then he's diving in. Eating you out like a starved man, groaning at how you taste just like him, sucking up every drop of your new arousal as you bang the back of your head against the inner side of the front door because "Fucking hell Hansol... we're still in the goddamn foyer."

But that's okay. Because just as your legs begin to tremble around his ears, hips bucking against his mouth, arousal smeared across his chin — he's dragging you into his bedroom. It doesn't matter how wobbly your knees are because you're on his bed before you know it. Enveloped by his distinct scent and his arms as he grins down at you with messy waves of hair dripping with sweat and shiny, swollen lips.

It hits you when you're both naked. Staring into each other's eyes, lips hovering mere inches away. Just how intimate this all is. Your palms fly up to cover your face and Vernon backs away slightly and tilts his head.

"What's wrong? Do you want to stop?"

"No, I just..." You peer at him through your fingertips. "I'm... embarrassed."

"Embarrassed? Even after you rode my dick hard enough that my car was shaking? And let me eat you out in my entryway?"

"Omigod, Hansol! Don't say it like that!"

"But it's true!"

"Yeah, but! Geez!" You sigh as he collapses against you giggling.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I can't help but think it's adorable that you'd be shy now though."

"But we're naked. And it just feels... different."

Vernon lifts his head back up so he can look down at you. The way your eyes shine when they meet his, the bashful smile on your lips, the rise and fall of your chest, your body pressed against his. All for him. All his. And he grins, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

"Yeah, it does. Perfectly so. I love you, remember?"

"Mhm, I love you, too."

You wrap your arms around his broad back, nails lightly digging into his shoulder blades, and you bury your head in his neck. He hums. One hand runs along the side of your body and hovers between your legs.

"May I?" He feels you nod but wants to hear it. "Need your verbal response, baby."

You giggle and run your tongue across the red and purple bite mark you'd left earlier before moaning in his ear. "Yes, Hansolie."

Cool fingers gently prod at your folds, the both of you groaning when he slides two in because of how incredibly wet and sensitive you are. He doesn't waste much time, simply teasing you a little bit before he slides them back out. His other hand takes the tip of his cock and rubs the head of it against your sopping pussy to silence any whines of complaint.

He takes his time. Committing each and every piece and part of you to memory. Certainly, this won't be the last time but it's among the first of many. Vernon wants to know what makes you sigh a little louder, breath pausing in your chest with anticipation, and nails marking up his back a tiny bit harder.

Your mouth falls open as every glide of his hips pokes the tip of his cock a little further into your cunt before pulling away again. He takes that opportunity to slide his fingers now coated with your arousal between your lips.

It can't be real, how perfect you are as you moan around his fingers at the taste. Cunt clenching enough that a sunctioning sound can be heard every time he pulls out. Like a filthy porno, the slow way he finally bottoms out makes Vernon's jaw nearly fall off at the unbelievable sounds your bodies make together. A shiver runs down his spine at how he can feel your walls part and grip around him.

He lets out a content sigh and closes his eyes as he remains still. Nestled deep within you, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist with you mouthing at his fingers. Although, you begin to grow impatient and grind your hips against his causing his eyes to flash back open.

"Go on and say it, baby," he goads and then removes his fingers so they're holding your hips down instead. Knowing the power they have.

But he's the one in control now.

You whine his name in frustration but he shakes his head. Chuckling darkly, he whispers in your ear.

"Not that, sweetheart. I love to hear you say my name like that but there's something else, isn't there?" You wrinkle your eyebrows in confusion and he continues. "Something you had no trouble making fun of me for earlier."

Recognition flashes in your eyes and a devious smirk plays on your lips. "I knew you had a daddy kink."

"It's not me," Vernon brushes a strand of hair behind your ear fondly despite his teasing tone. "Can't be when it's your cunt that keeps clamping around my dick at the mention."

You pout. Hating that the big beautiful brain he sometimes uses is able to pick up on something like that. You also hate the shit-eating grin that fails to leave his face. Your hips are still pinned down and you know he will refuse to move if you don't say what he wants.

Struggling to obtain the control you absolutely do not have, Vernon obliges when you tug his neck down and fiddle with the loose hairs that lay on his nape and mutter in his ear.

"Fine, daddy."

"'Fine what', darling? What is it that you want from daddy?"

You grit your teeth but he shifts as if he's going to pull out despite the vice-like grip your legs have around him, knowing it will delay your protest.

"I-I want you in me... I want you... to fuck me s-senseless..."

"Yeah? Is that what my baby wants?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes, what?"

"... Yes, daddy."

If you could wipe the smirk off his face you would but you settle for pulling him into an open-mouthed kiss although you can still feel the upward curve of triumph on his lips. You bite down gently on his lower lip in mock retaliation and he jerks back with a gasp. Honestly, you're not sure if your eyes are rolling back at his audacity or the sharp snaps of his hips digging his cock deep inside that bundle of nerves in your cunt. The filthy words he's spewing certainly do not help.

"Who's pussy is this?"

"Yours daddy."

"Mhm that's right, you gonna let me fill it up again? Leak all over my bed so it smells like you for days?"

"Ah, yes daddy."

"Doesn't matter though 'cause I'll have you right back on my bed tomorrow, yeah? Even as soon as in the morning. Maybe won't let my cock leave this pussy at all tonight. Belongs to me... it's all mine. Isn't that right, baby?"

Your back arches off the bed and you moan loudly, "All yours, daddy."

It feels like your fifth orgasm of the night but it may be only the second. Vernon showers your tits with kisses as you clench tightly around him. Tight enough that he's not far behind, filling you up with his release once more. Cradling your shaking body until you're coming back down to earth and able to kiss his nose that scrunches up in delight.

"I love you," he reiterates in glee, "even if you made fun of me for having the daddy kink."

"I think it goes both ways, you totally got off on it, too."

Vernon shakes his head but can only let out a hiss, watching the way your hole pushes out the mixture of cum when he pulls out his dick.

You're out of breath for real, panting in exhaustion but you send him a wobbly smile. "Love you too, daddy."

You're both snorting. Gingerly you sit up and make grabby hands in his direction. He coos "my baby" and helps you stand up, gesturing in the direction of the shower.

"Wanna shower together?"

You make a face. "Only if you don't pull anything funny."

"Me? I would never."

"I'm serious, Hansol. Another round and I really won't be able to walk anymore."

"Weak. I thought we were going to go for days on end."

"Only if you're okay serving me meals in bed," you tease back.

Vernon kisses your forehead and wraps a comforting arm around your bare shoulder so you're tucked into his side. "That sounds like everything I've ever wanted."

[lampmanliveblogs]

And now here is… this thing. I chose this screenshot because it’s the best full-body shot I could get of it.

So something approached the kids, looking a lot like Belos does in the present, only made from shadows and faint red lights. I was beginning to think that form looked pretty cool, until it started to mutate and turned into this thing.

We saw in Hunting Palismen that Belos has these outbursts where he turns into a bestial, monstrous form. He has trouble controlling himself and will attack anything too close, even lashing out at Hunter. In Elsewhere and Elsewhen we saw that this was (probably) caused in some part by Philip experimenting with magic and tattooing the glyphs onto his arm. Whether this monstrous corruption is caused by his human body not being able to handle the magic power, or his knowledge of magic being incomplete (remember, he had only tattooed the three out of four glyphs that he knew), or something else, we don’t know.

But this… thing is likely the representation of that corruption, of the monster he will turn into if he doesn’t consume palismen. The question is, is this his ”real” inner Belos/Philip? Or is it the child (which tried to warn Hunter to get away)? Or is neither of them, and they are just facets of something bigger?

In Understanding Willow, something kinda similar happened. After Amity set fire to Willow’s memories, the Inner Willow turned into a fiery monster. But once Luz doused the flames, inner Willow looked like Outer Willow.

Hey, there’s the trees Luz was looking for! And they’re all dead, go figure.

Hunter and Luz have fallen into some deep crevice within Belos’ mind. This is far back in his long life, back in a time it looks like he’s tried to forget. We can see in these two portraits a young Philip Wittebane… as well as someone that looks a bit similar to Hunter. Philip’s brother. Hunter’s father*. These are happy memories by the looks of it, and yet they’re decaying and the brother’s face is obscured, almost like someone’s tried to scratch it out.

(*unless that one theory I have turns out to be true)

I tried, but I can’t make out any details on any of these new portraits.

Luz says that this ”The Emperor’s real mind.” 

I think I pointed out before that all the paintings in the corridor above showed Belos as the hero. So that, combined with Luz’ line her makes me think that Belos may very well genuinely think of himself as a hero. That what he is doing is good. Or at the very least, that the end goal is good. Like I’ve said before, I’m not so sure that the Day of Unity will actually benefit the people of the Demon Realm… but rather, that the goal is to benefit the humans in the Human Realm in some way.

Discarded on the ground, Hunter finds this bird palisman. It crumbles to dust in his hand, a hand that shakes noticeably as he undoubtedly thinks of Little Rascal and what Belos would do to it if he got his hands on it.

There it is! There it is! Finally! I finally know Little Rascal’s true name! Now my sister can finally stop asking me if I’ve found out yet!

It’s Flapjack! Which is a type of oat bar originating from the United Kingdom. In north America however, the term is more often used to refer to pancakes. This is useful information for me to possess.

If we look in the background, we get a slightly better look at one of the paintings. It shows Philip and his brother playing with sticks, with some other people standing ominously in the background with what looks like pitchforks. Those could very well be just other kids playing with them though.

(I rewound the scene a few seconds to make sure I caught all the dialogue when I spotted another painting. it looks like Philip’s brother is carving something out of wood while Philip looks. And maybe my eyes are playing trick on me, but it could be the mask the purple kid in the corridor above was wearing.

[void-chara]

I drew a him! the scrungly scrimbo! he is Not Happy and would like you to Put Him Down Please. he promises he wont bite you. he is lying

[ID: A digital drawing of Grian, in a simplistic cartoon style. Grian depicted as a man with light skin, pink cheeks, and shoulder length dark blonde hair. He has wings attached to  his back, and a tail made of feathers coming from under his sweater. Part of his hair is up in a bun, and some has fallen down to cover his left eye. He is wearing black shoes, dark gray pants, and a red sweater. His wings are colored similarly to a parrot, though not any specific species. The highest row of feathers are fluffy, and the same color as Grian’s sweater. The second and third rows are different on the outside and inside. The outer second row is the same yellowish brown as his hair, with a purple mark heavily resembling an eye at the end of each feather. The outer third row is the longest, and the feathers are dark blue-violet, though the lighting makes them appear more purple. The inner third row is the same purple as the eye markings. The inner second row is a pinkish purple. A computer curser has grabbed him by the back of his sweaters neck. His body hangs limp, and his wings drop below him, slightly curling around him, though not enough to obscure view of his body. His face is in shadow, and he glares tiredly towards the viewer. End ID]

i actually drew this a few months ago, i think back in may, but i kept forgetting to post it lol. anyway its a bit out of date from my current grian design, because i drew it back when i was headcanoning hc grian and life series grian as the same guy, whereas now i see them as two separate guys. well. sort of separate. its complicated and i cant really explain it without delving deep into all my mc and mcyt headcanons, and that would take a while

also he kind of looks like chara dreemurr from undertale lol. like in the hair and the eyes and the rosy cheeks. i suppose that makes sence, since any blorbo who rotates in my head for long enough inevitably begins to resemble chara dreemurr, including myself. i am normal about chara dreemurr from undertale.

anywya, i tried a new art style in this one and im pretty happy with how it turned out!

[r0b0-writes]

Gift for @toastedjeans ! Cryptid AU Oneshot

AH- Thank you so, so much for allowing me to write this! I love the AU so much and really wanted to explore a bit. You're such an awesome and kind person, your reblogs, tags, comments, etc. are always appreciated. I always love seeing your comments and interactions on my stuff. It truly makes me feel like my stuff is actually good, ya know?

So, here you go, a thank you and gift for all you've done.

Title: Freight Night Lights Words: 2,214

Darkness was not uncommon to the wary three as they trudged along the outer streets of the city. Food was hardly scarce in the area they originally came from but urban crawl made it tempting to venture to new areas. The smells of new food and enticing lights were the biggest reasons. Neon seemed to paint the city; greens, purples, blues, reds, all were so mesmerizing.

Cakes especially had wanted to go and see up close how cars moved in their natural habitat. The skeletal remains from the junkyard were only so interesting after all. The insides made nice beds. But to see one move as colors bounced off the exterior was like watching a beautiful bird.

The sky began to paint a lovely shade of dark purples as the sun's rays began to dance over the distant sealine. It had been dark when they snuck into the outskirts and the rising sun threatened to make them vulnerable. With their bellies full and curiosity sated, it was time to head home and rest.

Sweet perched on Cakes shoulder, his head turned 180 degrees as a loud crash sounded behind them. Cakes turned quickly, it's tail hit trashcans, making an even louder ruckus.

With eyes made for the dark, the two quickly relaxed when they saw it was just their friend. Cap'n scrambled out of a trashcan, a plastic bag caught between his antlers. In a hurry, he fell to his back and frantically began trying to kick it off using his hind legs. He pushed himself back, hitting something behind him, only causing more noise as he jumped, tail fluffed to max volume, and hissed at the unknown object.

Sweet stared, unsurprised, but annoyed as it watched Cap'n continuously try to remove the bag. They leaned against Cakes' head and watched, wondering how long it would take for Cap'n to just use his arms. At least Cap'n had arms to use, Sweet only had wings and the talons on their feet.

Cakes clicked their tongue and Cap'n's ears stood alert, turning his head in its direction. Cakes hovered a hand over its head then gestured to Cap'n. The tinier terrestrial cryptid raised a hand, felt the bag, and sheepishly removed it.

Sweet rolled an eye and chirped accusingly, pointing a wing towards the inner city. Didn't Cap'n care about the Normals that would hear all that noise?

Cap'n rolled his eyes and mocked Sweet's mannerisms.

Sweet's tail feathers fluffed up in shock and annoyance. He bent his legs and jumped off of Cakes' shoulders, ready to give him a piece of their mind. But was stopped abruptly when Cakes grabbed him by the tail, stopping his flight. Sweet fell to the ground, instinctually cradling their tail. Sweet and Cap'n turned to face Cakes. It knew better than to pull on tails, that hurt!

Cakes placed a finger to its lips, keeping a semi-stern expression before turning back and setting up the fallen trashcans.

Cap'n faced Sweet and smirked, crossing his arms. As if to say 'yeah' in a mocking tone before dropping to all fours and joining Cakes' side. Sweet rolled their eye. What a moron. They expanded their wings and flapped up to the air, gliding back down to Cakes' shoulders.

The three were cautious as they stayed in the shadows as much as possible. Avoiding the eyes of early risers. Alleyways were their friend in this adventure back home. Cap'n stood up again, and peeked around a corner, his whiskers twitched. The cables leading up along a building looked appetizing. Another bite couldn't hurt-

A sharp tug pulled him from the street's light. Sweet stood above his body, a talon tight around the fur along his chest. If they hadn't just cost him a meal, he'd be blushing. Using his hind legs he kicked Sweet off and dusted his fur off. What was the big deal? It's not a problem to get some extra grub.

Sensing the tension, Cakes squatted down beside the two. It placed a hand on their shoulders, misdirecting their attention. The two seemed mildly apologetic for making the taller one worry. Cakes hummed and leaned its head forward, an invitation.

Let bygones be bygones?

The smaller ones looked at each and back and Cakes. It had closed its eyes but still had a gentle smile as it nudged the two. The pair stifled their laughter as Cakes continued to playfully nudge. He'd continue until they made up. Cap'n was the first to give in, unable to resist the opportunity to return the affection. Sweet joined in shortly. It didn't take much to get them all on the same page again.

Cakes wrapped his arms around the pair and squeezed them into a tight hug. Tonight had been fun, best to end it on a good note. After all, they were in this together! A trio!

The laughing died when Cap'n's ears twitched. He heard something approaching. He tugged on his friends to get their attention. Cakes immediately frowned and picked the two up. He scanned the area for a space to hide in. It could easily defeat whatever came their way, but they'd rather avoid a fight. Despite the confrontational sounds coming from Sweet, who seemed more than ready to fight.

Cakes scrambled between two trashcans, pulling more layers of fallen filth and debris to cover them. He wrapped his large tail around everyone, pressing them to his chest. The smaller he could make them, the better. Plus, in this position, he could easily shield the others if needed. He tried to steady the sound of his chest, if it were too loud it might attract attention. Two hands cupped its face, two heads leaned forward to meet it. The beating in its chest slowed.

"Man," came a loud groan, "you guys and your late-night snack runs are gonna be the death of me." "Is that supposed to be a bad thing, Susan?"

There was a pause then a loud smack.

"Say that again, birdbrain!" "Ah- ! Don't fight, guys!"

Noelle watched in anticipation as Susie held Berdly in a chokehold.

"Say 'uncle'!" "Uncle! Uncle!"

Susie released Berdly, "s'what I thought," her lips turned up in a proud sneer.

"Hey, Kris, why'd we stop?" Susie asked. "Is there a shortcut, perhaps?" A new voice spoke. "..." "Guess that's our answer, Ralsei. C'mon guys."

The crew of Kris, Susie, Ralsei, Berdly, and Noelle, made their way down the alley.

Cakes pulled the two closer, shutting its eyes to stop its glow from giving them away. It felt the other's anxiety in each breath that escaped their chests.

"Did you guys hear about the sighting?"

A collective groan sounded amongst the group.

"Not this again, Berdly," Susie's shoulders sagged. "I- I'd like to hear about it," Noelle chimed in.

Ralsei agreed, "I would like to hear as well." He placed a hand on Berdly's shoulder. "Just because they aren't real to us, doesn't mean they can't be real to you."

"They are real!" Berdly stomped his foot. "The news said so! There were sightings of a cryptid by the ocean not too long ago! And how do you explain all those missing cars, huh?"

"People steal junk from that scrapyard all the time," Susie explained. "I've done it before, took a busted street light, now my room's sick as hell."

"That's not the same and you know it," Berdly huffed. He recollected himself, "whatever, I wouldn't expect any of you to understand the intricacies of liminal creatures beyond what your fragile brains can handle."

Susie shrugged, "they aren't real, birdbrain. Get over it."

"They are too!" Berdly shrieked. "They are incredible beings that are incomprehensible and they aren't monsters or humans, they're something else entirely! Imagine being a combination of only the best parts of other beings! Imagine the possibilities for medicine, for science!"

"Plus, they look cool and scary," Noelle whispered. "Plus, they look cool and scary!" Berdly repeated.

"No one's actually seen a cryptid, dorks," Susie towered above the two. "Besides, there's always things much scarier than the paranormal," a low growl sounded in her throat.

"(Eep)!" Noelle blushed, clutching the ends of her skirt. "Y- You aren't s- so scary," Berdly puffed out his chest. Susie redirected her attention towards him, "oh, really?"

"Y- Yeah... !" His knees trembled.

Susie's laugh was a low rumble of thunder, "you think so, do you? I guess we'll just have to change that." Her eyes turned white as her mouth slowly opened, almost unhinged as if to take a bite.

Berdly shut his eyes, his body shaking.

Only to stop when Susie began bursting out with laughter. "Man! I got you two good! Kris, Ralsei, did you guys see me?"

"We saw, Susie," Ralsei sighed, disappointed. "This isn't how you make friends," he mumbled.

"Ah, we're already all besties, right, Noelle?" Susie threw an arm over Noelle's shoulder. "Y E P !" Noelle replied stiffly. Truthfully, Noelle would agree with anything Susie said. "Nothing to be scared of with me and Kris here, anyway. With my brawn and their... leadership(?) we can defeat anything!"

"What about me, Susie? What can I do?" Ralsei stepped forward sheepishly. "Oh, you're... morale boost! Yeah, you make sure we're all happy."

Ralsei beamed. "Oh, that won't be too hard. You guys make me so happy; your own happiness is contagious!"

The effect was immediate, the entire party felt their hearts swell. If this were a game, their HP would've MAXed.

The moment didn't last long, however. It was interrupted by a loud rattled banging which made everyone jump back as a trashbag fell from on top of two cans. After calming Berdly's high-pitched scream, the group stared. Should they inspect it? Trashbags don't just fall over for no reason, right?

Susie nudged Kris forward, "you go check it out." Kris turned, spreading their arms out with an incredulous look. "You're the leader! Go, uh, lead us." Berdly peeked out from behind Susie, "yeah, we believe in you, Kris!"

Kris rolled their eyes and sent the group an unpleasant gesture as they turned to walk toward the trashcans.

Their steps grew heavy, their SOUL began to pound, hands began to shake. They didn't pick up their feet anymore, instead opting to slide forward, keeping one foot further away for a quick dash. Just in case. They placed a hand on the trash, preparing to overturn the cans.

Cakes racked its head with what to do. It had to protect them- it had to make sure they were safe. He'd create a distraction and run, letting the other two escape. He wouldn't let them be caught. He'd attack the Normals if he had to. He'd do anything to protect Sweet and Cap'n. Their mouth opened, getting ready to sink their fangs into whatever uncovered their hiding space.

"Kris?" Noelle peeped, "what is-"

Kris fell back and began frantically kicking whatever had attacked them. The group behind them screamed in terror as Kris fought the creature, they got a good hold on it and threw it toward the group, scooting far away on the concrete ground. They tried to collect their breath.

Their friends screeched as the creature rattled on the ground and began-

"Hap- Happ- y Bir-rr-rrthd-day t- to y-yy- you"

Their screaming died down as the rattling creature came into the light.

It was a toy monkey with steel pans.

Kris began to laugh and point at their friends as realization hit the group all at once. Kris rolled on the ground, they were laughing so much they couldn't even stand. Each attempt only brought them back to the ground, clutching their chest.

"Kris!" Susie screeched, "I'm gonna pummel you!" She rolled up her sleeves as the others stared at the broken toy.

Ralsei picked it up, "that wasn't very nice, Kris." He placed a hand over his chest, "my chest is still beating a mile a minute." Noelle had turned to the nearby wall for support as she tried to calm her heart rate. Berdly was curled in a ball on the ground.

Even as Susie help Kris up by the collar of their shirt, they couldn't stop laughing. "You think scaring me was funny, nerd?" Susie shook them and they nodded, wiping tears from their eyes. "H U H ?!" Susie dropped them. "I was worried about you! I thought something had really-"

"Wait!" Berdly interrupted, suddenly more alive. "You were scared, weren't you, Susan?" Berdly wiggled his eyebrows. "I saw the way you were shaking, you thought it was going to be a cryptid, didn't you~ ?" He teased.

Susie looked over her shoulder, the whites of her eyes shining as her muscles tensed.

"O- Or you weren't scared at all, sorry. I must've been mistaken." Berdly stepped away, back to the safety beside Noelle.

Kris managed to collect their breath and held up their watch for everyone to see.

"Yeah, you're right," Susie helped them up. "It's late, let's get home before something else goes bump in the night." She punched their shoulder, earning a sly grin and another chuckle.

The footsteps echoed away.

Cakes let out a sigh of relief. If they could all manage to make it back to the junkyard without another run-in like that, maybe this outing would be worth all the stress.

[suppenzeit]

Once again GL, maybe GB studying Lexi and makeup routine? :)

makeup people dont come for me one of my masc traits is that i barely know what a makeup is

Greaseball really should’ve started getting ready after Electra got ready. He’d already taken off his leather coat, getting way too warm sitting on the edge of Electras bed, watching as he’d meticulously painted a new pattern into the stars on his cheeks. How he kept his hand so steady Greaseball didn’t know.

Seemingly satisfied with his work, Electra put his brush away and began looking through one of his desk drawers in a rather inelegant way. He’d gotten both of his legs on the chair, one leg upright and the other crossed as he rummaged through the drawer, occasionally taking out different containers. The leg against his chest really impeded his mobility, as he was only able to rummage one-handed, the other used for ferrying products to the desk. After he’d accumulated a small pile on his desk he seemed satisfied and closed the drawer. He opened a container, and picked out another brush, quickly inspecting it before starting to spread some more white on his face.

“You going for an all white look, baby?” Greaseball was sure Electra could pull it off, it was just that Electra had always been full of color. It would be very odd to see him in all white.

Electra paused his painting to look at Greaseball for a moment before going back to what he was doing.

“Oh, this is just so when I put on color it shows up better”

“Ah” Greaseball said it like he understood what Electra said. He did not.

“But I could come up with an all white look, if you’d like?” Electra finished the white portions and looked through his other products, contemplating what exactly to do next.

“Nah, nah, I was just curious. I don’t know anything about that stuff”

“I could teach you sometime,” he looked at Greaseball out of the corner of his eye, smirking “maybe even get you fancied up”

Just the mental image made Greaseballs face scrunch up.

“Fat chance, darlin”

Electra chuckled and picked out a shade of blue to spread on his eyelids, starting out on the inner corner and moving outwards. And Greaseball had to admit that while he was pretty much clueless, watching Electra work was pretty satisfying. He switched to a slightly darker shade of blue, blending it into the blue he’d put on previously. Then to a purple, adding only a little bit before moving onto a striking red. He finished out his coloring with more of a pinkish color. He looked at himself in the mirror for a moment, turning and tilting his head. Then he grabbed a white tube and a black tube from the corner of his desk and opened the white tube, which revealed itself to be more of a pen. With it, Electra drew a line from the outer corners of his eyes. White eyeliner then (eyeliners were one of the very few things Greaseball actually knew of, after Electra had fussed over them for enough time)? Apparently not, as Electra opened the black tube to add the actual eyeliner. And with that, Electra seemed rather pleased with himself. 

“Damn, baby, looking gorgeous as ever” And he did! Electra always managed to look perfect. Looking back, even at the race there wasn’t a hair out of place.

“Well, just wait until I’m done”

Opening some more containers, Electra began spreading glitter all over his eyelids. Of course, it wouldn't be Electra without copious amounts of glitter. Greaseball really should’ve guessed it. He didn’t mind it, per se, it was just that it got everywhere. And it was hard to look imposing with stray pieces of glitter stuck to his face.

“Ok so now, are you done?”

“Three more things, big guy”

Just three more things, he could deal with that. They weren’t in a hurry.

First thing was blush. It didn’t stand out too much from Electras skin, aside from the slight glitter effect it had.

Next was lipstick, a shade he’d used many times before. And Greaseball knew from experience that it didn’t smudge, no matter how much they made out (which had been a problem before, he’d once gone an embarrassingly long time with lipstick smudged on his face).

Lastly, Electra grabbed a little spray bottle to spray his face with. Greaseball had no clue what it’s purpose was, but he was glad that Electra was finally done.

“And there,” Electra turned to face Greaseball and did a pose “do you like it?”

He did look amazing, and so perfectly him.

“Shit, baby, every time you just blow me away”

“Sweet talker”

Electra rose up from the chair and stretched a little before picking out his clothes for the night. A blue low v-neck shirt, red leather pants (he made sure to angle himself just right to put them on to rile Greaseball up), a red padded leather jacket and a pair of blue lightning bolt earrings. They looked so good together.

Putting his own leather jacket on, Greaseball let Electra lead the way. And so they left, ready to make the whole world jealous.