#kasper creates

[mushroomaliencoco]

Nostalgia 📜

(Normal version)

[rip-headphones-users]

Stfu haters i need to cook for a minute OK??????

[somedaytakethetime]

little linky for the songy little linky for the videoy

[leibal]

Reflector is a minimalist lighting fixture created by Copenhagen-based designer Frederik Gustav, exhibited at Værktøj 1. The exhibition Værktøj 1 brings together designers Frederik Gustav, Jonas Trampedach, Kasper Salto, and Michael Antrobus to explore the art of metal bending.

[credince--writes]

Deep In Those Woods- Chapter 11

Keegan P. Russ x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6- Chapter 7- Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11

AO3

You find a strange man in the woods, no doubt running from the federation. He seems, well, in simple terms beat to shit. May your act of kindness not go unpunished.

Taglist:

@dindjarinsmeshla @tessxq @ladyvlolypop @tiny-kasper @biggiecheeselover @konigsleftkidney @mykneeshurt @katsufairies @noname0756 @brain-has-left @vinithechocolatevampire @hotthankss

It feels as if years, and only mere seconds have passed in the gaping expanse of time it takes for your feet to place one in front of the other. Weight bore down- muscles screaming. Tension, ligaments pulled taut and adrenaline dissipated like crystalized stars of hurt throughout your body.  

If you bend your arm, dried blood chips off of your skin. 

Keegan’s hands are covered- nearly up to his forearms in the eviscerated flesh and gore of the man he brutally murdered.

Saving you.

The sound of metal tearing through flesh- the huff of the dog trotting behind you. The tear of flesh and clothing. The tear- the scream- the wet splatters of hot blood and steam billowing into the dark night sky.

The illumination of the corpses being drug off into the dark, lit in a warm glow by the fire the lifeless hands created.

You’re sat down across from where you were strung up against the tree- you can see the rope dangling, a slight waver back and forth with a light breeze that carves the guts from your middle and shlops them out onto the ground.

Would they steam? Like the flesh and blood and guts and gore and screams you’d seen tonight?

Would you ever stop hearing them?

Would they forever be staring up into the night sky, jaws overextended in a billowing scream that would never meet the ears of a savior?

You’re still staring.

You’re shaking now, a little voice in the back murmurs. You’d acknowledge it, as if the fire should warm you up.

But you can’t stop staring.

In your periphery, you realize there is a man sitting- a stoic, unreadable mask. Eyes set on you as if you’d get up and run into the forest screaming the second he as much as blinks. A dog- the beast- the angel curled up next to his side, head propped onto his feet and eyes narrowed and focused into the treeline. 

The rustle of leaves (you realize it’s intentional, they’re treating you like a frightful little creature that’ll run at the smallest startle) alerts you to Keegan and the other man returning. His hands are no longer streaked up his forearm in drying blood. But, if you narrow your eyes and focus you can see the remains of the browning streaks in the crevices of his knuckles, in the cuticles of his fingernails.

Does the drying of blood scare him? The feeling of it flexing, drying, and cracking off of his own like a brutal shell?

Your hand clenches, and the feeling of dried blood and mud crusting off of your skin grounds your focus enough to realize the three of them are simply staring at you.

Waiting.

You stare back, eyes narrowed- locked with Keegans.

His shine with guilt.

Yours shine with misery.

The two men behind Keegan break contact the share a glance with each other, eyebrows quirked and something akin to a shrug in response. 

“Can you walk?” Keeagns voice is so devoid of emotion, refined. Practiced. The tension in his jaw line, the flex of his right hand clenching in on itself. Bloody fingernails digging into his palm-

You nod, once. Almost unsure of if your body is able to move. The twinge of pain down your spine confirms yes- you can. But not without cost.

“Then let’s get moving.”

The fire is smothered.

You trudge onwards.

The two men are a constant presence behind you- as if they are unsure you are anything more than some ethereal being that will disappear if their line of sight on you is broken. 

----

You struggle.

They notice you struggle.

You refuse help.

You continue onward.

You don’t think you can handle one of them touching you- the large palm of a man's hand wrapping around your forearm and pulling you forward. You can’t. The feeling of blood mixing with sweat nearly sends you into a spiral- the quiet one to your right with the dog hands you a cloth. Damp- water taken from his canteen. 

You scrub your face until it hurts, and if you cry while doing it- they don’t say anything. 

By the time you get back into woods you recognise, the sun is rising. Peaking over the tips of trees and the soft coo of doves in the foggy morning sky, and odd cricket in the brush. Dewy moisture left on the tips of leaves and branches. A spiderweb moistened with droplets.

A patch of grass splattered with blood and viscera- chunks of flesh trailing back to a corpse. Arm outstretched for a rifle- flashlight still blaring against the grass in the morning light. 

Your home is destroyed.

Broken glass and furniture- cabinets strewn open and the contents thrown out onto the ground.

A corpse- splayed out onto the ground in your bedroom doorway.

You retch up whatever contents of your stomach remain in the garden pot you grew sage and thyme in- the herby scent filling your nose mixing with the scent of bile and gore. It reminds you of the first time you gutted a deer- accidentally puncturing the stomach while pulling the organs from the body cavity. The unstoppable retch that shook your body as a half eaten apple toppled out and onto the floor.

But another mere living creature, killed for the crime of existence- sentenced to death as a creature of prey by the predators that roamed these woods. Gunmetal and oiled wood- hunting knife in hand.

A large, warm hand brushes against your back- pulling your hair back from your face as you brace against the pot with both hands and shake. Spit and snot dribble out- you’d be embarrassed, the loss of composure. You don’t know why this is affecting you so harshly- the death of bad men.

The hot irony tang of blood in the cold night air.

Silly little doe, in a den of wolves.

You push off of the pot, nearly leaning back into the man's hand before he quickly releases you and steps away. Skittering past him in a way your back is no longer faced to him, turning to look out the windows of your kitchen at the sun crawling up the sky. A warm golden glow pooling around the horizon, spilling out from the branches and onto the chaos of your home.

A broken tea pot, a shattered china dish.

The glass of a mason jar shattered across the runner rug by the sink.

You close your eyes for a moment- if you just wake up now from this nightmare, you’ll make a cup of tea to soothe your nerves. Watch the night sky and lock the deadbolt on the front door you’ve rarely ever used.

Boots crunching glass.

Courtesy.

You turn, Keegan’s steely blue eyes meet yours in return. Unreadable. Ghostly.

“I want you to pack a bag. Your essentials- you won’t be coming back here. If you can’t carry it all, give it to Logan.” His voice is hollow. Authoritative- it leaves no room for argument. His word is law-

“No.” 

Your voice is stronger than you’d give yourself credit for- you feel your hands clench- fingernails dig into your palm. Your eyes have opened- this isn’t a dream. This isn’t a nightmare. But it can’t be real- this man standing amongst the destruction and death of your haven.

He’s holding a duffel bag in his hand. “Either you pack, or I pack for you.” 

“I’m not leaving. Not with you-”

“You aren’t safe here anymore.” He replies. “Not with me. Not without me.”

You want to grab the shattered remains of your dinnerware set and throw it at him- scream. 

Cry- 

beg.

“This is my home.” Your voice cracks.

Keegan steps forward, pushing the duffel bag into your arms and grabbing hold of the meat of your bicep. Leaning forward, whispering harshing as his grasp tugs you forward. “And this is goin’ to be your grave if you don’t get that bag packed.” 

Your body stiffens at the grasp around your warm, tense- You throw the bag on the ground and throw your hand forward to slap him across the face. You vision nearly red with anger- the fight of flight of it all rising into your throat. You’ve fought- you’ve murdered- the blood still dried on your skin. So, so angry and it all pouring out of you in a single motion.

His hand catches your wrist, and grips. Warning.

His eyes have a glaze over them, eyes narrowed into pinpricks. His breathing shallow, jaw so tense you feel like you can hear the creaking of his molars against the bone of his jaw. 

But then he whispers.

“Don’t make me bury you.” 

And releases your hand, grabs the duffel off of the floor, and walks across the house and ducks into your room.

You stand, frozen, in the ruins of your kitchen for a moment. Letting the words wash over you for a moment-

 You grabbed the rag, dipping it into the water and ringing it out, running the cold rag against his flushed and feverish skin. “Keegan.” You said softly, trying to either calm his nerves or at least reach some part of his subconscious to let this unknown man he was safe.

At the sound of his name, his body twitched, eyebrows furrowing.

“Keegan, you’re safe alright?” You spoke again, dragging the rag down his neck and against his chest. “You…” You paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. “You’re hurt, but you’ll be ok. Don’t be scared, you’re safe.” You continued to speak, his body stirring a bit more before his eyes blinked open, eyes covered in some sheen of confusion and either a concussed or feverish (maybe both) haze.

He choked out something, not that it made sense, and you spoke again. “Would you like water?” Bringing the cup to his lips, helping raise his head, and tilting the cup forward as he greedily sucked the water down. Letting out a gasp before leaning his head back into your hand and staring up at you in a confused daze.

“You have a fever.” You explained as if he was coherent. “But it’s ok.” You reassured him- maybe it was more for yourself than him. Not maybe. It was.

The whole idea of this scared you.

This was a bad idea.

And it made your heart tug with guilt.

You were taking care of him, and you wouldn’t dare go out to search for your brother?

Did you not care?

It wasn’t that you didn’t care-

It was like when you were a child, cupping the lame duckling in your hands and warming it with your breath as it shivered.

You didn’t want to be greeted with more death, and you’d try nearly anything to try and prevent it from happening.

“Keegan, you’re safe alright?”

You stepped over the corpse in the doorway, and found him stuffing a sweater into the bag. One of your favorites- you realized. He’d pulled it off of it’s hanger, cashmere. You’d been given it as a birthday gift forever ago, and the quality of it’s manufacturing shone with time. Worn, warm fibers. He’d remembered by the sheer repetition of it’s circulation of your daily wear. 

You packed essentials, everything you couldn’t live without. 

Your panty drawer pulled open, riffled through.

You stood, staring at it- unable to reach forward and touch anything. The thought of the violation- the men in your home. The room becoming smaller, the smear of blood across the floor from where Keegan half drug the body by its limp ankles out into the hallway. An arm outstretched into the room, little dots of blood fanning in every direction from the shotgun blast that eviscerated a chunk from the soldier's middle. 

Keegan maneuvers you like a child, pointing your head away and redirecting you by asking you to gather any of the firearms in the house and drop them off on the porch with Hesh and Logan.

That was their names apparently, now which being which was a better question.

You accepted the cop-out with grace, stepping over the corpse to gather whatever useful supplies you had in the home, dropping them at the feet of the two men who were staring off the porch at the scenery of the valley, smoking a cigarette. 

You left before they could strike up a conversation.

You tossed a pair of bright pink fuzzy socks you’d left on the couch with some other laundry to Keegan, adding it to the quickly filling duffel bag of what would soon be your sole belongings. 

Change of clothing in hand, you locked yourself in the bathroom and showered until the hot water ran cold. Scrubbing your body under the cold water until shivers racked your body. Until there was no more blood under your fingernails, until the smell of soap and oil overwhelmed the lingering smell of fear and blood.

So much blood.

You ignored the sediment gathered around the drain, the trail of red streaking down and circling into the plumbing below.

You opened a drawer to pull out your hairbrush when you saw it. A crumpled edge, folded in half too many times-

A photo of you and your brother.

You stared at it, towel wrapped tightly across your chest, cold droplets of water sending shivers down your spine as they dropped off your hair and onto the rubbed red skin. 

You grab hold of the photo, dress yourself, braid your hair, and walk out onto the porch.

The two are no longer sat smoking- Keegan wasn't in the house.

It’s peaceful. A cloud slowly drifting overhead. The morning fog clearing up for a blue sky with little whisps of cloud dancing through the sky.

The door to your generate shed opens, one of the men and Keegan walking out holding the jerrycans of fuel you use for the backup generator and-

No.

No.

Please.

The man with the dog appears from behind the house, walking up to meet them. “No gas main.” He states it as if it were such a simple fact- that this wasn’t going beyond desecrating sacred ground to you. This was an atrocity- something unfounded.

“No!” You yell. Stomping forward and meeting Keegan halfway into a step trying to block him with your body. 

He pauses, looks down, and replies “You need to understand-”

“You can’t.” You beg. “The animals- my… My home. My- my things. You can’t. How will I make sure they’re fed?”

“You don’t need to worry about that. Not anymore.”

You stare in disbelief. 

“This is my home! Mine! This is not yours to destroy!” You cry out.

“Either we burn it to the ground, you we come back and find fifteen of those fuckin’ animals inside it with all your things.” His words sting, and he pushes past. “There’s nothing left for you here anymore. Go stand by Hesh.”

He and Logan duck intro the house, jerrycans in hand.

Hesh is standing on the hill, awkwardly toeing his boot into the mud as if it were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. Defeated, you walk over to him- the dog sitting patiently with it’s tail curled around its feet. Sitting at his right side, loyal.

You stand next to him, silent.

Keegan and Logan step out of the house, Logan lights a stick with a cloth torn to the end, and tosses it into the center of your home.

Hesh lights a cigarette.

Your home engulfs in flames.

You reach your hand up, and he plucks it from his mouth and hands it to you.

You’ve never smoked before, but this seems like the right time to try it.

The taste is acrid, bitter- you suck it into your lungs and cough. You exhale, a puff of smoke leaving your lips just as a window shatters from the heat, smoke billowing out from it and into the sky. 

You don’t think you’re much of a smoker, and hand the cigarette back to Hesh.

He takes it back without a word.

“It’s time to go.” It takes a minute before you realize it was Hesh who spoke, you glance up and behind you. He’s looking down on you with pity- you recognize that look. The twinge of pain from memories flickering in his eyes. Regrets. Ghosts. 

“I don’t know if I can leave my home.” You whisper back.

“There’s no home here.” He replies. “Not anymore.” And begins walking.

You have no choice but to follow.

He’s right.

You have nothing.

[carelessflower]

Istyle - Alec Lightwood-Bane Issue limited 2500 copies (sold out on all black market)

The Consul talks life, fashion, and what is in his bag. Fun fact: The photographer has even more photos, but they disappear after the photoshoot. Watch out for any tall, cat-eyed man you see, he might possess all the Alec photocards

Magazine flipbook version available below the cut

tag list: @magnus-the-maqnificent @literallytypogod @hoezier-than-thou @sociallyineptbibliophile @queenlilith43

@khaleesiofalicante @wandererbyheart @raziyekroos @onetimetwotimesthreetimess @alexandergideonslightwood @andrwminward

@noah-herondale-lightwood @elettralightwood @dustandducks @deliciousdetectivestranger @delightfullyterrible

@letsgofortacos

@kita-no @thelightofthebane @secrettryst @goldendreams3 @cityofdownwardspirals

@stupidfuckindinosaur

@i-have-not-slept @rinadragomir @potato-jem @kasper-tag @cam-ryt

@banesapothecary

[blingblong55]

Late-night needs- Price, Ghost & Rudy NSFW

A/N: I will never get over how hot Rudy's nose is in this picture

Based on a request:

-Phone sex with Rudy plz! - Any CoD man to the Badjhur audio of phone sex, pleasee -Hi Kasper i just want to start off by saying I LOVE ur fics and since i know you don't deny our requts can yoiu pleasee do Price and Ghosr to number three of the Kinktober event your doing? it can be separate and to an f reader. Thank you Kasper!!

F!Reader, phone!sex, smut, MDNI, 18+

A/N: This reminded me of Sweet by Cigarettes After Sex for some reason, not the entire song, obvi

He had been away for three months and lately, all the frustration started to build up, so, he called you.

Price:

It was late at night for him and your recent bikini picture had stirred some much-needed release for him.

He looked at your picture and began to stroke his cock but it was not enough so he called you, all you needed was to see through the screen the not-so-well-hidden tip of his cock.

"Hi, darling, I know, I know....yes my love but right now I need for you to obey, yes?...perfect."

He loved to command you, and he slowly made you touch yourself for him. His left hand held his phone whilst the other began to wank his ever-needy cock.

"Now, slaps your tits, love...oh yes...just like that," he had a grin on his lips. Enjoyed how he can be so far from you but still bring both of you pleasure.

He loves to watch you get absolutely destroyed and he also likes the idea of you recording yourself and fucking two fingers inside of you.

As you continued to show him your pussy, how you grabbed a dildo and began to fuck yourself with it, he began to moan, his head thrown back.

"Just like that, keep that up, doll," he said between groans.

One thing he disliked about his job is how anytime he needs a quick fuck you aren't around and hates how some men on the team have heard him wank off.

As you moaned louder, his seed fell out of his dick and onto his hands, creating a sticky white mess.

He loves to send you pictures, so once he hung up, he sent a video of his mess.

Playing with his own cum and then slapping his cock to the sides, knowing you'll call later for more of this fun.

Ghost:

He sends you multiple videos of his erection with texts that plead for you to answer his call.

Once you answer, he sets his phone up, sitting back on his chair and then watching as you play with your cunt.

His head rolls back and all that he can hear in his darkened room are your moans and his heavy breathing.

You try and get all angles for him, knowing that it's what he's needed.

"Fuck, lovie, moan more, let me hear your moans," his voice was deep and harsh.

By some point you take out the dildo that was his exact measurements, he knew it would come in handy when he was gone.

He watched you intently, a grin on his face as you screamed his name.

And he was proud that he trained you enough to only moan his name, even when he was far from home.

"Faster, let me see your tits bounce...yes...just like that, don't stop~" he moans and then as you whimpered, he nods. You cum on the dildo and he cums with you

His seed all over his fingers, he shows them to you, "look at what you made me do, R/N," his voice hinting at his smile.

Rudy:

It was rare for him to call but once he showed you his bulge, you couldn't resist and ended up helping him.

He was always so sweet, except for when it came to helping his erection, that needed immediate attention and a rough side of him.

You tased him, only for him to make you spank yourself hard.

He made you touch your thighs and then slowly remove your panties, leaving you exposed to the camera.

"I want to watch you as I stroke myself, princess," he ushers out. His strokes increase as you moan his name, screaming every now and then as you wait for him to let you come.

"Fuck, mi amor, just like that...oh yes mi princesa, you can take it." He moans and watches as you grind on the pillow, your tits bouncing and the vibrator making you scream in pleasure.

"Show me that pretty pussy of yours," he manspreads, his cock hard and the tip swollen. You fingered yourself on camera and he chuckles.

"Oh....aren't you candy for my eyes, mi amor," he spits on his hand and strokes faster.

His cum leaks everywhere and then, because he knows you like it, he licks his hands. "Taste yourself too, mi amor," he whispers and grabs his phone.

"aren't you an obedient little angel," he smiles and you lay in bed exhausted

A/N: no idea if this is HC anymore...ya girl can't sleep rn

Tags: @liyanahelena @sharkssharkssharkssharks @simpxxslutxx @thatgoblin @zensshawty @amygaster004 @jamesrifftapes @uvosbtccc

[lucid-daydreaming-archive]

little lampert doodle page, he means the sun moon and stars to me

practicing with some concepts for lamperts anatomy, i kind of like the idea of him having bendy robot arms that can get longer and shorter. probably wont put that into the blog though, because i dont think it fits him in canon enough. hes a very stiff guy, i just like noodle people. however it is already canon in the KasNLamp (abbreviating it to knl) lore that he can make his body and limbs longer and shorter so that will stay true, just not the bendiness. think of it like adjusting the height of a bike seat or a razor scooter bar, just with less visible parts and infinitely easier

because of this, sometimes he can get really. really tall. really. really. tall. hes kind of freaky

when lampert was first created i think he was really new to being a person, so he doesnt quite know what to do with his body and his default proportions are a bit wonky. arms too long! kinda wobbly! like a baby cow

we decided kasper just kind of screams for no reason really loudly, particularly when something upsets him. his mom dreads taking him anywhere public

for my knl enjoyers, i hope you know we are constantly always thinking about them and talking about them. we have a fleshed out plotline start to finish that we are consistently adding more to. theyre very dear to us. we hope youll love what we do with them

as always kasper design projected into my mind my brain my noggin by unodum himself ( @unoriginal-and-dumb ) fuck you for making me play roblox all those months ago and not shutting up about regretevator the two weeks i was living under your desk youre the reason i have earth shattering thoughts and revelations about a lamp every god damn night

and for anyone wanting to follow the knl lore… >>>>>>> @ask-kas-n-lamp !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <<<<<<<<

(do not tag as ship i will start throwing a fit and screaming he is so acearo to me. they both are. but especially lampert i will temper tantrum everywhere i will do what kasper is doing in the top right)

[royal-hair]

DENMARK - Poul Nejlund & Søren Hedegaard & Dennis Knudsen

Let's start with Poul Nejlund, owner of the Jean-Leonard (just like Marie-Antoinette's hairdresser) hair salon for 60 years, and who has been Queen Margrethe's hairdresser for more than 40 years (he's 82 years old and still working with Margrethe!), work that granted him the Knight's Cross of the Order of the Dannebrog.

Poul has given a few interviews over the years, and according to him, the first time Margrethe sat on his chair, the appointment was made for a lady-in-wating but she was the one who appeared. That was in the early 80s and from that moment, he has been Margrethe's only hairdresser. Even thought she went to his hair salon that first time, he usually goes to Fredensborg Palace to work.

Being Margrethe's only hairdresser means that his hands are behind every single tiara hairstyle we've seen on her, during galas, weddings, state visits and whatever you can think about.

While with Mathilde we saw that she knows what style she wants when sitting in Fréderic's chair, Margrethe is the exact opposite.

"The Queen and I never actually talk about hairstyles or agree on anything in advance. When it comes to hair and hairstyles, the Queen gives me complete freedom and never interferes. However, I am not supposed to try anything with color, extra hair extensions or other things"

That's so Daisy. Her being the creative soul she is, it's normal that she gives that freedom to her hairdresser to create. And by the way, we do know that Poul doesn't need to use extensions in Margrethe's updos as she still keeps her hair pretty long.

And while Poul has done Mary's hair occasionally, she had her own hairdresser during her time as Crown Princess: Søren Hedegaard. He stepped down just as she became Queen in 2024.

Søren's case is special among the hairdressers I'm writing about, because he worked 23 years fo Mary and has given a lot of interviews (like a lot), but everything he says is about himself. I translated at least 20 interviews and nothing, not a single thing about Mary apart from what we do know, that he started working with her in 2001 and left with Margrethe's abdication, over and over again. I was starting to get somewhat frustrated when I found an interesting quote in 2005:

"I’m not allowed to talk …"

It's been a long time, that quote is from the first years of Mary as a royal, but with how hard it's being finding insight or behind the scenes secrets with her, I'm pretty inclined to think that he really isn't allowed to talk.

That being said, I just want to mention that Kasper Astrup has stepped into the role of Mary's regular hairdresser. It's still early to find an interview or a journalist piece on him, because he's been just a year in the position.

I don't want this Mary's hairdresser piece to end on a low note, so here's a video of Søren and Poul in an event doing a workshop of how they work:

And lastly, Marie's hairdresser: Dennis Knudsen.

He worked with Marie for 13 years. He also did not talk much about his work with Marie, but we do know that he was let go as a colaborator in 2023 after he was convicted for endangerment and reckless driving. Now he's living in Thailand and obviously not styling Marie. This also coincides with Marie's lack of official events as a danish princess, so I couldn't find if she has a new regular hairdresser or just one on occasion for the official events she attends.

Denmark was a weird case on this Royal Hairdressers series I'm doing, because we're so used to have more info on them and all that, that I thought that I would find as much info than with the other countries I've done, but apart from Margrethe, we don't know much about the others. Just the royals public events are a testament of their work.

Sources: x x x x x x x

[ask-kas-n-lamp]

js because someone gives infected extensions when drawing him in Lampert x infected art doesn't mean they're using your design��💀💀

Who said that? Are you fr??? 😭

Nobody is claiming extensions = the design I created. Anyone can come up with that, that is ONE thing and is also very popular

There is clearly several aspects of the design, that when put together is hard to claim was not inspired from it.

The KNL version of Kasper and lampert are very specific designs, primarily developed with the idea that these characters share a familial bond.

The disrespect you have will not get you far in life, for your sake I wish you the best.

-Dum

[debble-from-deltarun]

Thought abt a regretevator au where kasper got infected by a different virus than the one he has ingame and it led to me creating this monstrosity

This is Offiz (based of the You Are an Idiot virus) he infected Kasper after they visited a sketchy website and is now in control of his body (so prolly more like a parasite than an actual virus)

[weirdsillycreature]

Well..

Here is Kasper! One of Dr.Noir's bodyguards, and Kandie's partner!

He is one of Dr.Noir's successful experiments, managing to create a strong individual who can protect his back from possible enemies!

[mysterious-art-greenhouse]

hello regretevator fandom i'm back with another au. this time infected & folly swap au

folly (dreamer):

- a peaceful robloxian who minds her own business. friendly and kind. she's friends with melanie, mozelle and pilby and generally gets along well with other folk on the 'vator

- one tome dreamer bought a new bed for her apartment. it contained an hidden virus of unknown origins, more like a curse, because it couldn't be treated even by dr retro. she suffers from nightmares and spontaneous hallucinations, some of which affect others: people start seeing and hearing things around her. mozelle can counter the effects of the curse but can't get rid of it

infected:

- was never a robloxian. he was created to help the creator build the world and modify the code that lies in the core of the world. one time he made a crucial mistake after which the creator deemed kasper untrustworthy of his work and discarded him as a "bug". permissions given to kasper got out of control and well. his code did too, severely affecting the world around him. to avoid being erased from existence he fleed but kept the ability to manipulate data

- reality is a simulation for infected. he realises that he is part of it

- after losing his "job" kasper no longer has a purpose in life. he wanders around the world being terrifying and sometimes causing chaos

[notmakos]

I love infected SM thanks froe creating him i love him can i be him irl liek people see me and say "oh Shit IS infected irl" pliease i beg i give You 2 robux plesze i literally change My name to kasper only for him please

make it 3 robux and ill let it slide otherwise im DMCA'ING YOU!!!!!

( thank you )

[blingblong55]

Comfort- 141+König

Based on a request:

henlo, i saw that requests were open. if it is ok, may i request how does the task force 141 + König reacting to an emotionless (or who appears to be) reader? at first, they seem so distant but then one day comes up to them with a hug and showing some vulnerability or the reader smiles at their jokes for the first time.

GN!Reader, fluff?

A/N: it'll be short...sorry

Grim\ r/n, is the literal embodiment of their call sign. Always have kept to themselves, never showed any emotion and are always distant from their team. Even Ghost has grown close to the team and he is known to be a cold man, but Grim has won that title now.

You were always one to be quiet and never laughed at jokes made during missions or even on base. In the common room, the men would all talk and you'd be in some corner, sitting on some chair and reading a book or solving a puzzle. At first, they all did try their best to create a bond with you. And not once did you try to engage with anyone.

For at least 3 missions no one trusted you because in the past 15 months, you never cared to show any sign of emotions or that you cared for their own safety. It all took a turn when on your 4th mission you jumped in front of the team to save them from any damage. With much fortune, you or anyone didn't get hit. When they questioned your motive all you did was hug them.

For the first time since they had met you, you never spoke to them unless at a meeting or on comms so of course when you hugged them they were in shock. You had lost many in your life, your past team, Kasper team, had all died. You didn't want to grow any attachments with 141 and/or König for that reason alone.

The men looked at you, "Grim, why would you do that?" Price broke the silence. You let go of them, eyes scanning around until you finally met their gaze. "I can't lose you, any of you...I won't let them happen." You spoke up. You just can't let anything happen to them.

König and Soap hugged you once more, they were the more, 'loveable' ones, in your opinion. You cried in their arms and the only one who saw you shed those tears was Ghost himself. You both held a secret since then, only to be so open with the other and never let anyone see such weakness.

A/N: I really do hope this makes much sense to you all.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jay Kuo at The Status Kuo:

Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth is imploding in real time, and it’s quite something. Before we wade through the mess, it’s time for a Debbie Reynolds “Told You So” dance.

Honestly, whoever could have predicted that an inexperienced rube turned Fox & Friends host, with a history of substance and spousal abuse coupled with big anger management issues, would implode just 100 days into the job? Disaster has followed regularly in Hegseth’s wake. So let’s walk through a list of five recent Hegseth facepalm moments. They’ll set the scene for what’s increasingly likely to go down at the Pentagon.

[...]

The backstabbing and rumormongering culminated last week with quite the hallway fight scene. Dan Caldwell, Darin Selnick and Colin Carroll, who served as senior advisers to Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth and Deputy Defense Secretary Stephen Feinberg, were all summarily fired. These three were longtime Hegseth aides and loyalists, yet they were still marched out of the building on Friday, with a strong implication that they were the “leakers” and were being punished. Interestingly, none of them had even taken a polygraph test, so this appeared more to be a test of wills with Hegseth’s chief of staff, Joe Kasper. The three did not go quietly. Instead, they issued a furious public response: “Unnamed Pentagon officials have slandered our character with baseless attacks on our way out the door,” they tweeted. “At this time, we still have not been told what exactly we were investigated for, if there is still an active investigation, or if there was even a real investigation of ‘leaks’ to begin with.” The shake-ups were not quite done. Kasper, Hegseth’s Chief of Staff, also announced his departure from his position, effective in the coming days. This will leave Hegseth adrift without a chief of staff, deputy chief of staff or any senior advisors. It follows his purges of top military commanders, including Joint Chiefs Chair General C.Q. Brown and Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Lisa Franchetti.

You gotta be kidding me

At this point, a fifth facepalm felt rather inevitable. On Sunday, we learned of a second Signal Chat group, this time created by Hegseth, that included his wife, brother and personal attorney, with whom he also shared wartime ops in real time. That’s a cut-and-dried criminal offense, so he’s lucky this Justice Department, which serves as a political extension of the White House, likely won’t prosecute him. They really should. In fact, let’s listen to what Hegseth himself said should be done when the person “at the very top” mishandles classified information so flippantly—at least when it concerned documents found at President Biden’s residence. [...]

Total disarray

Some rats are scurrying off the Hegseth ship before it sinks. Former Pentagon spokesman and longtime Hegseth and Trump loyalist John Ullyot penned a stunning OpEd for Politico in which he basically crafted the epitaph for Hegseth’s time in charge of our national defense. He began with ominous words that suggested the clock is ticking on Hegseth’s position. “It’s been a month of total chaos at the Pentagon. From leaks of sensitive operational plans to mass firings, the dysfunction is now a major distraction for the president — who deserves better from his senior leadership,” Ullyot said. He then decried the firings of Hegseth’s top aides and warned, “More firings may be coming, according to rumors in the building.” He claimed the Pentagon is now in “total disarray,” and that “it’s hard to see Defense Secretary Hegseth remaining in his role for much longer.” Yikes. The S.S. Hegseth has definitely struck an iceberg and is taking on water fast. Speaking of icebergs, it’s high time we started the iceberg lettuce countdown, first made famous by former British PM Liz Truss. Like Truss, Hegseth is isolated, flailing, and has lost the trust and support of some of his closest people. If Trump had any sense in him, he’d cut Hegseth loose before he can do more damage.

Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth is on very thin ice, and could be nearing the end of his time as the DoD head honcho.

See Also:

Daily Kos: Pete Hegseth's days as defense chief look numbered

Tristan Snell: This is the part where Pete Hegseth resigns

Steady: Is Hegseth Headed for the Exit?