#listen i just wanted to try out the metallic paints and the colours in this scene are just *chef's kiss*
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Broth, Lord. (x)
#listen i just wanted to try out the metallic paints and the colours in this scene are just *chef's kiss*#the last kingdom#uhtred#king alfred#alfred x uhtred#david dawson#alexander dreymon#fanart#ellana's art#tlk#tlk alfred#tlk uhtred#tlk fanart#tlk fandom#tlk season 1#season 1#alhtred#uhtred x alfred#rebelle 7#digital art#art#digital painting
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Lords of chaos Euronymous x reader
Reader has always loved metal music and dressing up for concerts. So, when her friend invites her to go see this upcoming band called Mayhem she puts on her shortest skirt and tiniest top and maybe even hooks up with the lead guitarist. 🖤🖤
Eyes on you in the short skirt
warning : tiny fluff, kissing, making out, implied sex
Lords of chaos ~ masterlist
Rory Culkin's character ~ masterlist
Info : Thanks for the request and a very good outfit choice I must say ;) It was nice to write and have fun reading, everyone else too
Disclaimer : I don't want to glorify anything, it's about the actors who play a role, not the real events.
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The illuminated room in the evening was not quiet like her parents. Or accompanied by a children's audio book like her little brother's. Nor was it colourfully lit like the party across the hall. ,,A bunch of posers," she muttered as she pushed aside the dark curtain and looked at the colourfully lit house.
It was a party for the town's well-known cheerleader and student body president. Too colourful, too bright for Y/n's taste.
But she didn't let herself be distracted, instead she pulled the curtain back and listened to her music again. Black metal by Venom was playing very loudly from the record player she had bought herself.The only good way to listen to metal she heard her friend say in her head.
She remembered how they had gone together to every shop that sold music. After that, the metal section was more than empty, that was for sure. But not just buying music, everything black that had leather and studs.
Getting ready for concerts and painting their faces with corpse paint was another thing they liked. Alone or together it was all good. Just as she was about to turn to her record player, she heard her phone ring.
Reaching for the receiver and putting it to her ear she heard her friend's voice. ,,Hey Y/n, what's up? Say, I've got a ticket left for Mayhem, they're playing at the city centre tonight" she heard the words and her lips twisted into a grin.
Mayhem was a relatively new band in this music field and yet they were notorious. Not only for the performances they offered which included blood, death, corpses and pretty much everything evil.
Even the band members were no pure background characters. ,,I'll be with you in fifteen minutes," she said, slamming down the receiver and hurrying to her wardrobe. When she opened it, she was greeted by black clothes. Nothing new and yet she knew exactly what she wanted to wear.
She decided to grab her shortest black skirt and the smallest top she had. Not least because it made her body stand out more than a little and maybe she could show off a little too. Slipping into her new clothes she looked at herself in her broken mirror.
It was tight, short and ,,Perfect" she murmured and lastly fixed her hair and make-up, which she decided to keep sexy. Corpsepaint, maybe he'll paint it for me she thought, thinking of the picture of Euronymous she had seen in the newspaper. "The new Satanist children" was the headline and a smirk came to her lips.
The night would be perfect. Grabbing her boots and trying to go down the stairs quietly, she listened once more inside the house.
But her parents were asleep and so was her brother. She was free. Rushing out of the house and taking the short way to her friend's house, she couldn't help but cheer with delight.
Not only would she see her friend, again at a concert together. No, she would also see Mayhem. The walk to her friend's house was quickly done and from there they walked the rest of the short way to their destination.
The city centre or rather the Aulla of the city was big, not huge but big enough to hold a good concert. Showing their tickets, they eagerly mingled with the crowd, grabbed a beer and gazed at the many different people.
All of them looked darker, more satanic and more frightening than the other. But none of this mattered when the band came on stage and the first note was played.
The crowd went wild, screaming and singing along, the first carcasses were thrown into the crowd and Y/n even thought he got blood from somewhere. But it could not have been better. Especially when she was sure that she felt Euronymou's gaze on her. More than once.
But the point where she almost thought she felt the dark magic and Satan was when one of the band members came up to her. She was about to leave and her friend wanted to make a quick stop at the merch stand.
When the band leader came up to them and said, ,,Euronymous wants to see you". No sooner had she said the words than her friend practically pushed her back towards the stage and said, ,,Call me later, I want to know every detail," before she happily continued to pop as if she hadn't noticed anything. But now Y/n was on stage where the band had been a few minutes ago.
It was exciting to look back at the now empty space. Maybe I'll stand here one day? she thought with a smile and had to think back to her bad attempts which included breaking several guitars.
But of course she was a natural. ,,Just go down the corridor, through the black door," he said and showed her the way with his hand. Hastily walking down the corridor, she adjusted her clothes, feeling her heart beat faster in anticipation. Before she arrived at the door, knocked lightly and went inside.
Inside the room, she immediately smelled cigarettes and beer. ,,You're here," murmured a voice she knew only too well. Euronymous, the founder of Mayhem, was sitting on a black, old, worn leather sofa. In his hand was the dark beer bottle as his eyes settled on it. ,,You wanted it," she countered and saw that he was holding onto her bust.
He didn't hide it, he didn't have to because that was what she wanted. He nodded briefly as if her answer was heavy and philosophical before taking another sip of his beer.
Before he put it down on the small table and pointed to his leg with his hand. ,,That's what you're here for with the founder of Mayhem...since I saw you tonight" he said and watched as she came closer slowly almost reverently watching him. Waiting for him to do something she didn't see coming. But he sat still, grabbing her hips as she settled onto his lap.
His grip was not painful but the small circles and the scratching of his fingers over her warm soft skin let her know that she should stay. Shouldn't dare pull away now. ,,You were incredible," she murmured, reaching unbidden for his beer bottle and taking a sip. Saw his eyes watching her body.
The short skirt that pushed up slightly with the new position, the top that followed, the obviousness that she wasn't wearing a bra. His eyes showed more than interest and fascination. It was lust.
Taking the bottle from her lips she put it back, but barely looking back at him she felt his hand buried in her hair. Pulling her closer, no matter the compressed position, he engaged her in an intimate kiss. A kiss in which she felt more than just clearly what he wanted, if it wasn't already clear.
The hand that had not wrapped itself in her hair to pull her against him moved down her hip to her bottom. She twitched and smirked slightly as she felt him tighten the lace on her panties.
One by one they slowly moved closer to her centre, almost making her squeal. ,,I knew it, the little top, the short skirt...you're going to be the perfect night," he murmured to her before pulling her off him and onto the cool couch. ,,Gladly," she replied before pulling him close and wrapping him in another kiss. Knowing that the night had many hours to offer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
@mayhem-things , @bvg-w1res , @icarus-star
#lords of chaos 2018#lords of chaos#lords of chaos euronymous x reader#lords of chaos euronymous#rory culkin
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Part THREE [ Previous 〡 Next ]
Simon returns only when the sun sets. The moon casts a soft grey hue over the space. The lack of lighting creates an uncanny atmosphere, leaving you feeling unsettled and on edge. By the time the door finally opens again, you find yourself on the brink of madness. The only thing keeping you from ripping out your hair or banging your head against the window until either the glass breaks or you pass out is the fact that you can't move. The frustration of attempting to move your body has overwhelmed you. No matter how determined you are, you are completely powerless against the unknown substance flowing through your veins.
A soft glow emanates from the hallway, and the light gradually floods into the room you are in. As your eyes adjust to the sudden change, you instinctively blink, momentarily shielding yourself from the brightness. You can't turn your head to look at the door, so your gaze remains fixed on the ceiling. Meanwhile, a dark figure approaches. Their footsteps make the ground shake. The sound echoes off the walls.
Black boots come to a sudden halt next to the side of your head, and for a while, Simon just looks at you as if trying to read your mind. You avert your gaze before closing your eyes. The heavy silence hangs in the air, creating a palpable tension between you and him.
"Your temporary room is ready." He scoops you up, effortlessly peeling you away from the ground. In his arms, your body is limp. He adjusts his grip and makes you lay your head on his shoulder. When you are carried into the hallway, your eyes flutter open. Your gaze scans the new surroundings, taking mental notes of every little detail.
The room you were in was dreadful — the wallpaper was peeling off the walls and the old wooden floors were sticky. There was not a single piece of furniture in sight, leaving the space feeling empty and cold. Also, the lingering metallic scent in the air made you want to vomit each time you took a deep breath. However, as you ventured further into the house, you were met by a completely different sight.
The walls in the hallways are painted in a crisp white colour. There are no paintings or pictures hung. A row of heavy grey curtains are drawn, covering every window, not allowing you to peek outside. You and Simon pass by numerous closed doors; you assume all of them are locked, too.
"Soon enough, you will start feeling like yourself again," he assures you and you assume he means that with a little more time, you will regain full control of your body.
You barely can feel Simon's arms wrapped around you, but you hate knowing that he is touching you. You wish you wouldn't be so helpless and completely at his mercy. Also, you desperately want him to stop pretending like he and you are having a conversation, when he is merely engaging in a monologue with himself, which you are forced to listen to.
"Are you hungry? Probably. Don't worry, I'll see what I can do about it."
Finally, he stops in front of another closed door. After walking through, he descends the stairs once more, and you suddenly realize that he is taking you into the dark, eerie basement. The thought of being trapped in a room with just a single window and a locked door was already terrifying, but at least then you still had a slim chance of escaping, if you could, by sheer luck, shatter the glass and then find enough bravery to jump out. However, now, you are about to be abandoned in a frigid, damp space, devoid of any windows, natural light, or fresh air.
You feel your pulse quicken. Your throat dries up as the familiar feeling of panic creeps into your mind, slowly but surely. Fear takes hold of you once again. Its grip tightening with every passing second, making you feel as if you are about to pass out. Simon, sensing your distress, lowers your body onto something soft. He looms over you and you can see concern in his eyes. After you avert your gaze, he tilts your head to the side and presses his fingers to the side of your neck. Silence settles in as he begins mumbling something to himself.
"Calm down." His fingers then curl around your chin, forcing you to look at him. When you close your eyes, his nails dig into your skin. "Don't do that."
You weigh the option of closing your eyes even tighter, but taking into account the potential consequences of disobeying his command, you decide it is in your best interest not to anger him. Provoking him would be foolish.
"Good girl." His lips curl into a smile and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
Your gaze continues to follow him. He slips off your sneakers and tosses them on the ground next to the mattress where you are lying. After pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth, purposely avoiding looking at your face, he tears off your tights, causing your heart to sink. He then guides your body, pressing your back against the icy wall and making you sit. Your head drops to the side, and your cheek gets squished against your shoulder.
"We need to change you out of that dirty dress," Simon says as he unzips it.
You are left sitting in a matching pair of delicate lace lingerie consisting of a bra and panties. His eyes darken with lust. Slowly, he raises his hand and his fingertips glide along the curve of your neck, tracing your collarbone, cupping and squeezing your breasts through the soft fabric. The tension in the air is palpable as he bites the inside of his mouth. His touch grows hotter, burning your skin, and your body betrays you — you can feel the heat starting to pool between your thighs.
He treats you like his personal doll, acting like you belong to him and have no will of your own. You wish you could push him away and stand up for yourself, show him that his behaviour is making you sick. However, your body still refuses to listen to your commands. All you can do is close your eyes, imagine that you are someplace else and silently endure his oppressive presence.
When Simon finishes groping you and has his fill of feeling your velvety skin beneath his fingertips, he slowly rises to his feet. You don't dare to look at him again until you feel something warm press against your temple. He holds a small, soft towel, which he keeps dipping in the bowl with warm water. With one hand holding the side of your head, he cleans off the dried blood.
His eyes have a blank expression. His jaw is tight and his shoulders are stiff. You can sense that he is trying to rush through the task as if he hates doing it; it reminds him that you were hurt because of him.
"Looking much better already," he mutters and sits next to you on the mattress. With surprising ease, he gently pulls you into his lap, positioning you between his legs. Your body slumps against his chest and his arms wrap around your torso.
For what seems like an eternity, time stands still as he holds you tightly in his embrace. The feeling of his warm breath against your skin sends shivers down your spine, while his fingers trace along your hipbones, inching dangerously close to the hem of your panties. Each touch is tantalizingly close to removing the flimsy fabric, yet he never goes beyond that boundary, and his hand never ventures underneath it either.
"I didn't have time to shop," he says as he moves away from you. You see, he is holding a shirt in his hand. "You came here unexpectedly, and I had to clean up the mess left down here by my previous guest, so..." With an unexpected ease, he unclips your bra, letting the straps slide off your shoulders. "For the time being, my shirt will have to suffice."
You detest feeling so vulnerable, but there is not much you can do. Once Simon leaves, a river of tears starts streaming down your cheeks. All of this feels like slow torture. You want it to end. You wish he would do what he plans to and be done with you, instead of painfully dragging this out.
Your sobbing is abruptly interrupted, and you almost choke on your own tears when your body rolls onto the side and you bury your face in your hands. There is a long pause because you can't believe what has just happened. But when you try to wiggle your toes, move your fingers and then turn your head, it works. Despite the lingering sensation of tingling in your skin and the painful ache in your muscles, the fact that you are no longer a prisoner in your own body makes you breathe out a shaky sigh of relief.
As you sit up, cautiously surveying your surroundings, you can't help but notice the slightly worn but clean mattress you are sitting on. There is a blanket and a pillow, which, despite smelling like cheap laundry detergent, is soft and not itchy. Your gaze moves to the other side of the room, where a large table stands. On top of it are placed three heavy books.
You try to stand up, but when your knees buckle, you decide to crawl instead. The concrete floor feels hard and cold beneath you. The dimly lit basement casts long shadows, making you feel like a small insect scurrying across the floor, desperate to find an escape.
Your exploration trip is cut short when suddenly, the door swings open and Simon comes. When he sees what you are doing, he hastily descends the stairs and places the tray he had been holding onto the table. Not wasting a moment, he picks you up. As his arms curl around you, a high-pitched yelp slips past your lips. He carries you back to the mattress, but this time, instead of gently lowering you, he basically just throws you down.
"I know you want to, but you shouldn't move around so much yet. Take it easy."
He joins you on the mattress after getting the tray, and placing it on his lap. You look at it. There's a slice of bread topped with a generous spread of jam, a plastic cup filled to the brim with juice, and a bowl of soup. The assortment seems odd to you, but you refrain from making any comments. The sight of food causes your stomach to emit a loud growl. Simon lets out a low chuckle and smirks before grabbing a spoon.
You are hungry. Your mouth is watering, and by the look of it, it seems like he intends to feed you. If you were clever, you might entertain the idea of letting him do so. However, you are exhausted from being treated like a mere plaything by him. As the spoonful of soup is brought to your mouth, you part your lips. Instead of swallowing, you take a breath in and, with all the strength you have left in you, you spit it all on him.
He hisses and wipes his face with your dress, which so far has been lying on the floor next to your sneakers. The spoon drops on the tray with a loud clink. His teeth click together, creating a sharp sound that resonates in the air, and you can see the tension in his jaw as it clenches tightly. You feel a sense of satisfaction wash over you because you finally showed him you won't allow him to have his way with you. However, just as you begin to revel in this moment, your satisfaction is abruptly shattered. His palm collides with your cheek.
He forcefully slaps you across the face, the impact reverberating through every fibre of your being, causing you to wince in pain. You feel his intense gaze, but you are afraid to meet his eyes. The overwhelming annoyance oozing out of him is almost palpable. You turn away and press yourself against the wall. The coolness of it eases the pain in your cheek. A few tears roll down your face.
Simon makes you look back at him. You flinch when he raises his hand once more, afraid that he might hit you again. But he just slowly caresses your bright red cheek. His touch is soft and gentle as his thumb wipes away your tears. The contrast between his previous outburst and his current tenderness creates a conflicting mix of emotions within you.
When he tries to feed you again, you open your mouth, mimicking the behaviour of a well-trained dog. The soup is too salty for you, but it warms you up, so you don't complain. After he finishes feeding you, before leaving, he takes the cup and slice of bread off the tray and leaves it all on the table.
"In case you get hungry while I'm gone."
#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#writing#simon ghost riley#call of duty#ghost x y/n#ghost x reader#cod#ghost x you#dead dove fic#malheur#ghost#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#cod ghost#cod x reader#cod fanfic#fem!reader
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Unwanted Reunion
Eddie Munson x Reader
Summary: You convince your husband Eddie to attend his 10 year high school reunion and as expected it doesn’t go well.
General fluff, mentions of sex, minor violence
Unedited
This was your first time in Hawkins, despite your efforts to persuade your husband to bring you back to his hometown, he had always had a strong stance against it. But when the letter arrived in your mailbox notifying you of a 10 year reunion, you had badgered him until he finally agreed.
You had been with Eddie Munson since college. You'd met in a class that he later dropped out of, but continued seeing each other after that. After Eddie dropped out he opened his own mechanic shop, which gradually grew to multiple stores which were all incredibly successful.
Eddie always made little side comments about getting married but he didn't build up to ask you until the day of your graduation. Your family and friends had been there and whilst you were too busy trying to watch where your cap had been thrown to, Eddie had gotten down on one knee.
You'd been married for 5 years now and you loved Eddie more that you could've ever imagined.
The drive to Hawkins was easy, most of the roads were pretty flat in this area, according to Eddie's constant facts. Despite his continued trivial knowledge, you knew something wasn't quite right as he only rambled like this when he was nervous or trying to get something from you.
"What's wrong?" you bluntly questioned him
He kept his eyes on the road and replied dimly "Nothing’s wrong"
"Eddie" you said in your warning tone, causing his eyes to flick over to you "what's the matter? You've been acting strange ever since we left home?"
"It doesn't matter" he assured you "it's stupid"
Despite his clear desire to drop the conversation, you knew he wanted to talk. He wasn't as hard to read as he'd like to think and you especially could read him like an open book.
You softened your gaze and softly said "It's not stupid, c'mon, what's wrong?"
He let out a small sigh "You know how I always say you never would've dated me in high school?"
"Yeah..." you replied, unsure how this related
"Well there's a lot more reasons behind that then you think. I wasn't exactly liked back then"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I went to school in a small town in the 80's, people didn't exactly like different and I was pretty different"
Eddie continued to tell you more about himself, most of which you knew and some you hadn't expected.
"You've seen the pictures, I had tattoos, I listened to metal and played D&D. People thought I worshipped Satan and was evil, I wasn't really liked or even wanted around, they were probably all glad when I left"
"I'm sorry Eddie" you said placing your hand on his knee "If you don't want to go to this thing we don't have to, we can just go and visit Wayne and then drive home tomorrow"
"No," he said "I want to you, I want to go in there and show them all that I didn't end up in jail like my shit dad and I made something of myself"
You squeezed his leg and coughed a little reminding him of you presence.
"And I landed myself a fucking hot ass wife!" he shouted
You laughed at his choice of words.
"Ok, I'm glad" you reassured him
"Yeah, me too" he said
"I'm also glad I brought two different outfit options just in case"
Eddie looked at you sideways, raising a brow "what kind of outfit are we talking about here?"
"Remember your birthday?" you smirked
You could see the wheels turning in his head as he thought back to then "I think you might be arrested if you go naked"
You smacked his leg in response "No you idiot! What I was wearing before that!"
"Ooooh..." he said in realisation "Oh yeah, that'll do it"
It seemed to amaze you that despite distance and state lines, somehow the interior of a public high school always looked the same. The same linoleum flooring and white walls with some sort of colour attempted to be painted onto them.
As you walked inside, you could feel Eddie's grip tighten around your arm. Making your way down the hall, Eddie glanced around at the lockers and pictures along the corridor.
"See that locker?" Eddie whispered to you, pointing out at one
You looked in the direction and assumed it must've been his "That's where I made a pass at Mindy Cornwell and then her boyfriend punched me"
"Eddie!" you looked at him horrified "why would you tell me that?"
“Hey, you're the one that wanted to know my high school experience..." he defended "not my fault it was shit" he muttered
Coming to the end of the hall, you walked up to the table that was set up at the entrance of the sports hall. From where you were you could already see the obscene amount of decorations and lights beyond the doorway.
"Name?" the blonde lady in front of your asked, giving you a smile and looking down at her list
"Edward and Y/n Munson" you said
The expression of shock was evident on her face, she didn't do anything to bother to conceal her expression and even felt so bold to do a double take.
"Is there a problem?" you insisted, feeling rather observed
"No, sorry" she spluttered, searching the table for the name stickers
Picking them up, she handed them over to the two of you and you headed on in.
"Hey relax" you whispered to Eddie, gently giving his forearm a squeeze "we're in, one part down"
"Thank you," he said, pressing a soft kiss to your head "you know your amazing right?"
"Only cause you like to remind me" you laughed "c'mon, let's see if we can find Robin, she told me she was coming tonight"
Making your way around the room, you noted the large 'Class of '86' banner along the wall. You were surprised at how many people were already here, though based on what Eddie had told you, it seemed like most of them hadn't moved away.
Just as you were about to finish your lap of the room, you spotted the person you were looking for.
"Robin!" you exclaimed, pulling away from Eddie and dashing over to your friend.
"Y/n!" she shouted back bringing you into an embrace "how are you?"
"I'm good, how are you?" you asked, then noticed her lack of companion "Where's Sarah?"
"I'm not too bad, unfortunately she got called back into the hospital last minute"
"That's a shame, I was looking forward to seeing her again"
Over the years you had met a few of Eddie's friends at random times, but when they had all come to the wedding you got to see the true chaos of them together. Since then, they had all come and visited you occasionally, and you had visited them as well. So you'd gotten to know them all and become pretty close with Robin.
"Hey Rob" Eddie cut in, re-joining your side "guessing y/n's already beaten me to the small talk and niceties?"
"I'm afraid so Eds" Robin sarcastically remarked, shaking her head slightly "unfortunately once again your gorgeous wife had proven she's far too good for you"
The three of you continued to chat and catch up as the evening progressed. You could tell Eddie was doing his best to avoid heading back into the larger group, but you didn't mind, you were here for him, not for yourself.
"Hey," you interjected "I'm just going to go grab a drink"
"Did you want me to get it?" Eddie offered
"No, that's ok"
"Ok, well can you get me one as well?"
"Sure"
Weaving your way through the crowd made you way over to the table covered in food and drink. As you were getting yourself a wine and Eddie a beer, you overheard something that caught your attention.
"Oh my god did you hear the freak is here tonight?" one voice said
"I can't believe he isn't in jail or dead" another spoke
"I heard he's going bald and is broke and he's back in town to move in with his uncle"
"No, no, apparently he's here with a woman, Michelle said he brought his wife!"
"You're kidding!"
"No way! She must be blind or stupid if she married Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson"
You stood there stunned for a moment as the realisation that these grown women were gossiping about you and Eddie hit. You weren't sure what to do for a second, as you registered their mean words and childish behaviour.
"Sorry can I just get past you?" a voice pulled you away, glancing up you grabbed your drinks as a blonde haired man stepped beside you
"I'm sorry, just lost in thought" you politely smiled
"Don't worry, just getting a top up" he laughed, gesturing to the empty beer bottle in his hand "I don't seem to recognise you, did you go here?"
"No, no" you replied "I went to school in North Carolina, I'm here with my husband, he's the one that went here"
"Oh really, what's his name, I might've known him?" he asked "I'm Jason by the way"
"It's nice to meet you Jason," you replied "his name is Eddie, Eddie Munson..."
Once again that evening, a shocked look fell over another persons face. This man who you'd known for all of five seconds gave you the biggest look of bewilderment and confusion.
"Eddie Munson?" he finally said, questioning you as if you'd said the wrong name "Eddie Munson is your husband?"
"Um yes..." you replied, unsure why he was so confused by your words
"How the hell did he get someone like you?!"
You weren't sure how to answer that, so you just tried to defuse the situation by laughing, though it sounded more nervous that you would've liked.
"Well it was nice meeting you Jason, I better get back" you said, trying to rush away, suddenly very uncomfortable by the change in conversation
You quickly walked back over to where Robin and Eddie were still standing and you quickly rushed to Eddie's side.
"I'm so sorry" you told him, cringing at what had happened
“Why are you sorry?" Eddie questioned, raising a brow
"I may have accidentally just spoken to your least favourite person here..."
"Mrs O'Donnell's still alive?" he said in shock
"No you idiot" you shot back "Jason Carver"
"Oh, that makes much more sense" he paused for a second and then huffed out "why?"
"I didn't mean to, he just started talking to me and by the time I worked out who he was it was too late to just run away"
You couldn't hide away for much longer, as you spotted out of the corner of your eye, a few people looking your way. Gradually as you heard Jason's words get louder, presumably with the help of some more alcohol, more people began to notice you. Usually you wouldn't care about people looking but it was clearly making Eddie uneasy.
Before you knew it, Jason and a few others that looked just like him, appeared before you.
"Jason" Eddie said flatly, trying to not acknowledge him
"How did you do it Munson, actually what did you do?" Jason laughed not wasting any time and clearly a few drinks in "You knock her up and force her to marry you or are you just paying some random hooker by the hour?"
"Fuck you Carver" Eddie replied, clearly angered by his words
"Oh the freaks got a backbone now does he?" Jason said, moving closer towards Eddie "cause last time I remember the only thing you were good at was running" he spat
Eddie didn't give Jason time to react, let alone retaliate. In one strong hit, Eddie swung and Jason was on the floor. Everyone gasped at the sight and you heard Robin shout some sort of profanity.
Your eyes widened at your husbands sudden act of violence but you didn't feel sorry for the excuse of a man on the floor. Somehow amongst all the shit talking, it clearly hadn't been mentioned that Eddie did hard physical labour all day and wasn't just playing board games anymore (though you did still have the box in a cupboard at the house).
"Don't speak like that to my wife again you asshole" Eddie said, grabbing a hold of your arm and marching you out of the gymnasium
He didn't say anything as you two rushed out into the night and towards your car. You still were sure exactly what was happening, it all played out so quickly, you hadn't had time to process.
"Eddie, woah, woah, just stop for a second" you begged
"I'm so sorry y/n" he said, looking back at you with hurt eyes "I never should've come tonight, I knew that it wouldn't have gone well"
"Hey, stop... This isn't your fault" you said, bringing your hands up and gently holding the sides of his face "I'm sorry I forced you to come"
"This isn't your fault either" Eddie was quick to reply, "let's say it was no one's fault and move on?"
"Sounds good to me" you smiled "though I do have to say it was pretty hot you knocking that jackass to the ground"
"Well I'm glad it looked good cause it fucking hurt my hand" Eddie muttered clutching his right hand "but I wanted to seem cool"
You couldn't help but laugh at your hopeless husband. Even in the shittiest situations he managed to be ok and make something funny, which is something you loved about him.
"I am sorry about what he said about you," Eddie said in a more sincere tone "no matter how much they hate me, that was just wrong to say all those awful lies"
Wrapping your arms around his waist, you breathed in his cologne that had been the same since you met.
"How about we go?" you suggested and the two of you got into the car
As you were driving along, the headlights guiding your way on the dark road, a realisation popped into your head.
"You know..." you said, pausing for a moment, trying to think over your words "It wasn't all lies"
"What?" Eddie replied clearly confused "Um... Unless you've changed jobs, last time I checked you weren't a cheap hooker
"No, that's not it" you said
Eddie clearly wasn't listening to you, lost in his own train of thought "I'd hope you'd at least be a high class one, for politicians and stuff, you know, important people" he went on
"Well I'm glad you think I'd made a good hooker" you chuckled
"Only the best for my girl" he smirked at you
Rolling your eyes, you looked down at your feet for a second.
"No Eddie," you softly said "I mean... technically you did knock me up"
Your words just about made him crash the car.
In a flash Eddie had pulled over on the side of the road and flung around to face you in the passenger seat.
"What?" he stared at you blankly "are you serious?"
"Yeah" you smiled nervously
"Really?"
"Yes!"
"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit" he excitedly shouted
He froze for a second and suddenly looked back at you again.
"How long have you know? How far along are you?" he rambled
"I've known for about two weeks now, and the doctor says I'm only a month along"
Once again Eddie froze and he didn't utter a word for at least a few minutes, which had to be some sort of personal record.
"That fucking dress!" he exclaimed "God it really was a good birthday!"
You couldn't help but burst out into laughter as Eddie put the pieces together. Hopelessly smiling at your husband, he pulled you towards him and held you tightly as the excitement of what was to come became reality.
#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie stranger things#eddie x you#stranger things eddie#eddie munson x reader#eddie fluff#husband!eddie#stranger things one shot#eddie oneshot#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie husband#eddie munson husband#husband!eddie x reader#husband!eddie munson#one shot
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You said you could write a whole essay on the design choses of P1 and P2, could I see that? 👀
time has come and so have i 😈 (and english isnt englishing gonna use translator ahaha sry)
First, i wanted to express their difference between one of them is alive, which is p1, while the other is already dead man walking (p2) For i used p2 - cold tones, like a corpse , for p1 - warmer colour palette
and also them being blue coded bitch and red coded bitch. y'know)
speaking of p2. I like to portray him more dead than alive as i said before. he is pale cadaverous in colour with spreading acrocyanosis (blue fingers, nose and ears). because of this, his hands, his skin, his entire being are cold. don't even try to warm him up. it's useless. he shot himself and the gaping hole in his skull wont stop bleeding, and all his body functions have slowed down significantly. that's why the wound doesn't heal.
the racoon eyes symptom (reaaally dark circles under the eyes) and intraocular hemorrhage (which isn't there, just slightly red eyes instead) are appears in patients with skull fractures and i think gunshot wound also matches the description. also empty lifeless look in faded-green eyes.
p2's nose and goatee are more spikey and straight bc i feel him more sharp-shaped than p1. p2 is like an explosion havoc and spikes 💥💥💥 he WILL show with all his appearance that he is a thorn and dont touch him ot you are dead, BUT he isnt shy, or meek, or sissy and etc. it's hard NOT TO notice him. yes he IS dry, but he likes to annoy people by his existence and the bullet damaged his brains so this also will act up sometimes. Thats why his pose with gun is open with a maniacal smirk. He will shoot u for fun lmao. I gave him earrings and grown hair just bc i wanted to. no hidden meanings in there And honorable mention. his pin is dead too
P1 NOW
his palette is warmer because he is alive. fiery red hair gives an even more dangerous look (like a fly agaric). disterssed black nail polish bc he is the one who is listening to alt nu metal music. imo he would paint his nails. his eyes sparkle with hatred and madness if u look REAALY CLOOSE ((and same is on my the fiiirst art of him))
okay, we zoomed too close. Now you can see his asymmetrical glasses, they give him an even more absurd and virulent look. Something that acts on our subcortex of consciousness and tells us that something is wrong. (aaand i forgor abt p2's sunglasses ooop💀)
p1 appearance isnt too sharp-shaped bc for me. for me. his isnt an explosion like p2. p1 is a predator that will wait for you for HOURS. no sudden movements, everything is precisely calculated. His world is a havoc, but he is the one who will solve this problem. He wont spoil anything in seconds. thats why his posture is closed and strict as opposed to p2. u seee.. they are the opposites.... oooo
his gaze is heavy, he looks at everyone with disgust and distrust. medium-thick eyebrows only add heaviness, unlike p2, his eyebrows are thiiin. p1 is SICK of everyone's bullshit to be honest.
Turtleneck turtleneck... I just like turtlenecks and also character must have a wardrobe with different clothes in it, right? oh and ofc. their crosses. i explained it here
and for the ending AS I MENTIONED BEFOOOORE i gave p1 klayton's (the one w red mohawk) facial traits ON PURPOSE. but for p2... for him i unconsciously gave blue stahli's facial traits (pink one) and when i relized it it was kindaaa eye-opening SJDHFSKJD. circle is closed now. also check out their music its sooo sick i cant
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Punisher
Note: So uh... kyuzu x therapy when? I literally wrote this after crying for nearly 2 hours|| No this is not smut || Yes I cannot come up with titles <3 || Please ignore any mistakes!
The autumn leaves turned brown and wilted to nothingness because summer had already bid its farewell. The sky painted itself grey when September wrapped up its role in the year. The air blew silent as well, as if too afraid to speak.
The small stone bridge you leaned against displayed in front of itself a small clear lake, covered by the fog which came with the seasons changing. The ducks and their ducklings, which usually inhabited the lake, had probably migrated to somewhere warm too. It seemed like the universe was mimicking the emotions you felt and hoped to escape.
You could hear Phoebe Bridgers singing Punisher through your earphones but her voice had faded into the background because you weren’t really listening to the song. The earphones were just an escape from reality, an attempt to loosen the knot you felt in your chest.
The tears brimming in your eyes went unnoticed by you and were soon rolling down your face ever-so-gently. A defeated sigh escaped your lips when you figured that your “try” to sort out your thoughts all by yourself had ended up being an even more tangled mess than before.
Why couldn’t everything just be fine for once?
In the middle of your numb thoughts, you felt someone’s sudden presence beside you. A hand shot up to quickly wipe away the stains the tears had left when they made their way down your face without your consent. You felt embarrassed as you thought of the awkwardness you might have planted between you and whoever the person was beside you. However, once you lifted your head to catch a glimpse of what the poor person looked like, a rush of heavy guilt ran down your whole body.
“Hi”, the boy's voice came out silent.
“H-hi…” your voice followed even quieter. Once you paused the song which was playing, you felt that the silence which followed was loud enough to deafen anyone and the atmosphere heavy enough to crush a rock.
Renjun decided it wasn’t the best time to speak, you on the other hand felt too guilty to speak. He didn’t want to trigger you any further, and you felt stupid for letting him see you this way.
“I didn’t want to worry you…” you broke the silence with a quiet mutter, head hung and eyes never leaving the lake under the bridge, too afraid to meet his gaze.
He wasn’t looking at you though, he instead chose to look directly ahead at the same oblivion you were staring into before. Another period of silence took over.
“Are you mad at me?” you questioned unknowingly, chewing your lip as you awaited any reaction from him hoping your speculation was everything but right.
“You know I can never be mad at you, right?” He said nonchalantly as if he hadn’t just walked on you amidst a mental breakdown.
“I’m sorry…” the whisper broke off before you could say anything further.
“You don’t have to be sorry for anything, my love.” Renjun’s hand reached out for yours which rested on the cold metal of the bridge’s railing, “If you want to talk, I’m listening…and if you don’t want to talk, we won’t. I’m right here with you.”
Something about how calm and reassuring his words sounded in the moment made you want to burst into tears right at the spot. Your feelings were rootless, and you hated how these random, unpleasant emotions took over the best of you even on the days when everything seemed to be going fine. The victims of your annoyed state were usually your family, who would in return snap at you, leaving you even more miserable. It seemed like this cycle of never-ending negative emotions was never going to meet its end, pushing you further into self-hatred.
But the only ray of light in all this darkness had been Renjun; an angel sent from heaven to save you from the misery you were in, or at least make it more bearable. Since the day he entered your life, he showed you the colours of the world and ever since you started dating, he proved to be the most wonderful boyfriend anyone could have ever dreamed of. His presence played a great role in your life, helping you stay sane and making you look forward to all the days you got to spend with him.
Without a thought, you threw your arms around him, burying yourself in his comforting embrace. Renjun’s hug felt like a warm beverage on a night when the grounds were covered with heavy snow. He smelt like lavenders which had just showered in the rain and now danced in the warm sunlight. He always calmed your senses, giving you hope that everything would be all right as long as he was there for you, by your side, holding you just like this.
He held you tight, secretly wishing he was helping you feel better even by the slightest of his actions. Seeing you in pain was the worst of feelings he had ever felt, oh how he would do anything just to see that beautiful smile on your face again and know that he was the reason behind it. But for now, a hug would do.
“Feel any better?” his calm voice blessed your ears again, and you nodded against his chest in reply.
“Good.” His hand tangled itself into your hair, gently combing through it.
It was a nice feeling. Your eyes fluttered close as your mind tried to focus on everything he was doing at the moment. From his touch to his voice, you wanted to capture everything just as it was, so that on days when he wasn’t there with you, these memories would help you find peace.
“Thank you…” you whispered against his chest, still not moving a single muscle.
“No need, I’m glad I could help.” Renjun smiled to himself.
September might have been a cruel month, but having Renjun by your side made even the unkindest of times the best ones.
Title : Punisher || Word count: 1k || Genre: Angst, Comfort, somewhat fluff || Pairing: bf! Renjun x implied Fem!Reader
Tagging : @armysantiny @mosviqu @jaehunnyy @riikiblr
#wc : 1006#huang renjun#renjun#bjnet#renjun fluff#renjun comfort#renjun angst#renjun fanfic#renjun fic#nct fanfic#nct fic#nct x reader#renjun x y/n#renjun x reader#renjun x you#nct x you#nct x y/n#nct dream#nct dream x you#nct dream x reader#nct dream x y/n#nct dream fluff#nct dream angst#nct dream fanfic#nct dream scenarios#🤎 – kyuzu writes#🤎 – jade writes
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Chapter 3: In which the Bentley is a little sweetheart and Crowley is careless.
Chapter 3, first part thereof! As ever, link at the bottom if you want to read the rest, :)
= = = =
Crowley drove and drove, numb to distance, and blind to what was about him. As a demon, he didn’t need to breathe, but it was just as well. His chest was so tight he couldn’t have inhaled if he wanted to.
These past few years, being with Aziraphale so much, had been idyllic. He’d indulged himself by taking on more and more human characteristics, idly trying to find out what it would feel like if they were just ordinary people living their life with maybe the odd miracle. It was a game he’d loved and though he’d never mentioned it to Aziraphale—of course he hadn’t—the angel had done the same.
Crowley had got used to the sound of Aziraphale’s heartbeat whispering in the quiet of the room. Not that a human would’ve been able to hear it, of course, but it was no problem for demon-sharp ears. Aziraphale would sit in his chair and read, cup and saucer to hand, and Crowley would loll on the sofa with a glass of wine, sometimes thinking, sometimes just listening to that quiet acknowledgement of a shared pretence. It was the nearest he’d come to finding peace in a long, long time.
But those beautiful long afternoons were at an end, perhaps for good. The realisation hit hard, and he swerved. There was a screech of brakes; normally the car simply would not have crashed but Crowley was tangled up in the threads of his grief, and the laws of physics prevailed. The Bentley veered off the road and crashed into a tree.
He leaned his forehead on the wheel. “I’m sorry,” he murmured to the car. “I’ll make it right.” Stumbling out of the door, he looked at the damage. The tree hadn’t smashed anything too vital, but it had made a mess of the beautiful curves. He pushed the Bentley back onto the tarmac easily enough, but when it came to having the strength to miracle it right, he had nothing.
He tried again, passing his hand over the crumpled, scratched metal, but there was nothing inside him but hollowness; a light coating of frost briefly flowered into fractals, then melted into a scattering of drops on the warm car. Everything felt so very far away. Impossible, even.
The car let its engine stutter to a stop and reached out for comfort—and not just to him. Far away, very faintly, there was a faint scent of cologne and old books, and under his hand the metal straightened itself into pristine shape. As the wrinkled paint smoothed and joined together, lemon yellow, Crowley flung himself along the link; there was the faintest whisper of love and determination, and fear—
—and then the connection shattered abruptly. The Metatron’s voice slithered into his head. I don’t think that’s at all appropriate, do you… demon ? The term was a pointed reminder of everything that was at risk.
Crowley didn’t answer. The link was gone, as if it had never existed. His stomach swirled uneasily; he had no way of knowing if Aziraphale was just cut off from him, or—worse.
The paint had not finished turning black when the link was severed; it had left a yellow lightning-streak on the car bonnet. Crowley smoothed his fingers over the polished metal but made no effort to finish the colour change. He had nothing to hold onto except that.
Crowley was not one for hoarding stuff, and anything really precious to him was hidden away. He’d taken to using the bookshop as a safe space, but it would be some time before he could face the sight of the empty chair there. For now, this was all he had. He pressed his hand down on the yellow paint and his mouth tightened.
A slight rain began to fall. Crowley got back in the car. The windscreen blurred with drops sliding down, but it didn’t matter. All he could see was Aziraphale’s face, disappearing between the lift doors, and the Metatron’s gratified expression. A shiver slithered down his spine. It’ll happen all over again, and this time I’m not there to step in.
= = = =
rest of the chapter can be found on AO3, as ever!
#good omens#ineffable idiots#crowley#good omens 2#good omens 2 spoilers#good omens season 2#good omens fanfic#good omens fanfiction#the bentley#gomens#aziracrow#ineffable divorce#to love the stars too fondly
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Day 21: Hugs
@hellcheerxmas
December 1986 Hawkins, Indiana
“Dude, what the fuck?”
Eddie slams his locker shut, nearly clamping Gareth’s nose inside. Which is as much as the little shit deserves for sticking it firmly where it doesn’t belong.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says as he leans against the metal door, aiming for nonchalance.
“There was a bear.”
“Fuck off, go to class.”
“It had a hat—”
“Go to class,” he hisses, and the Dungeon Master voice doesn’t work on Gareth anymore, but Eddie likes to think he projects a modicum of authority. Sometimes. Maybe.
“Whatever, Eddie.” Gareth snickers and hoists his backpack onto his shoulder. “Good luck with that.”
Eddie watches him go. Waits until the hallway clears out and the bell rings (so he’s skipping English; he knows how to read) before he opens his locker again.
Sitting on the top shelf is, indeed, a bear. And not just any bear. A polar bear. A polar bear wearing a red Santa hat and a green vest with bells all over it, and one of its feet has a sticker that says squeeze me.
He's no fool—he ain’t squeezing shit—but he does pull out the crisp white envelope that’s been neatly placed in the bear’s lap.
Dear Eddie,
This is Mr. Hugs. He loves you. Merry Christmas.
Best wishes, Mrs. Claus
P.S. This is revenge
He sighs. Grabs the jingling bear and tries to muffle it against his jacket because he can’t leave it in his locker and he can’t throw it in the trash, so his only option is to get it to the van without anyone seeing.
Which might have worked if not for the fact that he runs into Lucas Sinclair holding a hall pass when he’s halfway to the back door.
“Hey, Sinclair,” he says like he’s not holding a giant Christmas teddy bear to his chest.
“Hey, Eddie.” Lucas, a nice kid, is trying not to smirk. “What’s uh… that?”
“Oh, this? This is Mr. Hugs.” Because what else the fuck is he going to say?
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“It doesn’t look like anything.”
“Right. What are the chances of you not telling Henderson about this?”
Lucas considers his options, then shrugs. “My mouth stays shut if you let my sister start coming to Hellfire next semester.”
Eddie groans. “I told you, man. It’s not a babysitting service.”
A shrug and Lucas folds his arms. Eddie inadvertently squeezes the bear a bit tighter, which is when a tinny, mechanical voice spouts, “Ho-ho-haaaaappy holidays from Mr. Hugs!”
Lucas can’t keep from snorting. Eddie grits his teeth. “Fine. But she’d better come prepared,” he says before sprinting for the exit.
Luckily, he doesn’t run into anyone else between Sinclair and the parking lot, where his van waits like some sacred oasis.
Chrissy’s sitting in the back when he gets there, painting her nails and flipping through a magazine like she’s not an evil little Christmas imp. She has a free period when he has English, and she says being in the van beats study hall, so he gave her his extra key.
“Dude,” he says when he sees her, and she looks up all beatific, batting those big, baby blues. “I have a reputation.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He launches Mr. Hugs against the back of the passenger seat. The bear drops to the floor with a squealed “Meeeeeeerry Christmas!”
She lifts her hand to her mouth and blows on her nails, then shrugs. “I think he’s cute.”
“You think he’s—”
“Maybe think twice before insulting Boy George next time, Munson.”
Eddie frowns, because when did he even do that? Except, yeah, last weekend. Rick’s place. Chrissy and Rick wanted to listen to Colour By Numbers, and Eddie’d been… like, maybe more of a dick about that than the situation warranted. But still!
“That’s disproportionate, Cunningham!”
Another shrug, but she’s tamping down a giggle.
“Whatever. You’re such a fucking freak.”
Chrissy doesn’t disagree, and he spends the rest of her free period doing his best not to smudge her nail polish.
#hellcheer#eddie x chrissy#chrissy x eddie#edissy#chrissy cunningham#eddie munson#fanfic#hellcheerxmas#ruining eddie munson's reputation for fun and profit#mr hugs#idk this got crack fic-y#pretend the bear in the pic has a green jingle vest#there's only so much i can do with stock photography dammit#hellcheercountdown
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Technology Meets Organics (part 1)
(A Slammer Sonic & Contaminated au story)
This is a crossover between my sonic.exe au Slammer Sonic and @sonicexelle-junkary horror Sonic au Contaminated Sonic.
One of the new copies of the Slammer virus found itself on a new PC. It quickly integrated itself into the PC and searched through the data and absorb what wasn't important and what wouldn't be noticed. That is when the computer virus noticed some documentation about a strange biological virus known as the (contamination), and not just that this other virus was in a very familiar world to the virus.
This new information piqued the interest of the Slammer copy, and it dug in and read somewhat quickly about how the (contamination) functions and how it spreads. Slammer knew what they had to do.
They found a way into this world where the other virus was being stored through a gateway on the PC, and after a quick search in the universe code, the Slammer virus found its ideal host. It quickly wiggled in its worm form through an air vent and made its way into Dr. Eggman's laboratory, moving throughout the base until it found what it wanted.
The worm slowly crawled up the leg of the machine known as Metal Sonic; the robot didn't even notice he was just in sleep mode, which made Slammer's body invasion even more simple, squirming into the hole in the middle of Metal's chest, after which Slammer integrated its own code into Metal Sonic. It took no time at all as it devoured and assimilated all the unnecessary code inside the machine.
Then it made copies of itself, spreading through Metal Sonic's body until it completely made the machine its permeant host. Now Metal Slammer Sonic's body changed colour, matching the colour scheme of Slammer Prime, which is cyan blue, and his shoes are a golden colour. This body was much easier to control because of its being technological in nature, so Metal Slammer Sonic had no issue getting used to his new powers.
After assimilation was complete, Metal Slammer Sonic shot through the barricaded door of the labatory and performed an area scan, searching for any signs of life at top speeds. He found a few flicky and quickly sent worms into their bodies; they were quick to turn into nothing but bone. Few new worms were made, but enough for now.
Metal Slammer Sonic continued to hover in the air and perform more area scans, and soon stumbled across his first mobian victim. Although it would be a bit of a fight because it knew this host wasn't trusted by most mobians, it knew it had the power to take this boy down. The boy was Charmy Bee, and with a quick boost in power, he sped towards him.
Charmy didn't take long to notice and dodged out of the way as Metal Slammer slammed into the ground. Charmy just looked at what he thought was Metal Sonic, confused.
"Woah, woah, hey, we're no longer enemies. I barely made it away from my former friends and teammates. We've got a bigger threat to face now, Metal! Has Eggman not updated you about that weird virus going around or something? I was just heading to his base, since it's the safest area."
Charmy looked curiously at the robot, noticing his different paint job, and buzzed around, getting close as Slammer Metal Sonic stopped in place with beeps and boops.
"What's with the new paint? What the boss thought he'd confuse you for the real Sonic or something? Hehehehe, I can't say I blame him after what Sonic has become thanks to whatever this thing is. I wouldn't want to get confused, either."
Metal Slammer Sonic took in the information closely, deciding to just listen and wait for the perfect moment to strike, as meanwhile Charmy just sighed, struggling to stay happy. He didn't even know why he was trying to hide his emotions; it's not like Metal Sonic cared.
The poor kid was about to start crying; he had just lost Espio and Vector, but he rubbed the tears from his eyes as he noticed a worm crawling out of one of Metal Sonic's eyes and got very close to him.
"Woah, been playing in the dirt or somethin Metal? Hehehe, the wormies seem to like you!"
Once close enough, Slammer Metal grabbed onto him, doing a quick scan just to see if the contamination was already inside the bee. But it wasn't. Charmy wasn't infected, so Slammer Metal took this as an invitation and dug his metal claws into the boy's back quickly.
Charmy screamed in pain, buzzing loudly, and tried to attack Metal Sonic with his stinger as he looked angrily at the robot.
"Hey, what GIVES? Jeez, get off me, you dumb machine. Wait... Is that? No, no hurry, get off!"
Charmy struggled, panicked, as he wasn't strong enough to get free, but he also noticed something in the distance; it was Sonic as Slammer Metal. Sonic dug his claws deep into Charmy's skin. He kept a tight grip, and soon enough, some worms wiggled from the robot's claws and inside the bee's body.
The Slammer worms quickly made their way to Charmy's spine, severing his connection to the rest of his body and paralysing the boy completely as he fell limp to the ground, when Slammer Metal Sonic's claws dropped him.
Slammer Metal was watching the fear in Charmy's eyes as his insides were slowly filled with eggs and devoured by worms. And while that happened, Sonic, or rather Contaminated, watched this from a distance, curiously turning its head.
The infected hedgehog didn't quite know what was going on; all it knew was that it was trying to find Charmy because, knowing the bee got away from its newest hosts, Vector and Espio, it just tapped its foot up and down, somewhat fascinated by the display before it.
Slammer Metal soon detected the Contaminated behind him, though he had no real ability to speak, not yet beyond beeps and boops, so he waited, feeling the whole process of the worms devouring and multiplying inside Charmy's body at alarming speeds.
Since this copy of Slammer was made directly from Slammer Prime, he could assimilate organics slightly faster into more code worms, and that is exactly what he did, taking only 20 minutes before they left only bones on the boy's body.
Once the process was complete, all the worms flooded inside Slammer Metal Sonic's body through any hole in the body the host had, and after just a few more minutes, Slammer Metal finally turned completely around and tapped his metal neck a few times. He slowly updated his systems, and a message appeared across his eyes.
(Organic to technological update complete.)
Now Slammer Metal fully noticed the Contaminated Sonic, and it took a few seconds before the computer virus was able to speak in what sounded like a slightly distorted and robotic version of Charmy's voice.
"Hello, fellow virus. I am the SQL Slammer Virus, a computer virus able to adapt to any environment. I am but one of many copies of the virus, and I discovered a way into your world because I found myself curious about you. I took this host as my body after studying what information there is about you."
"I decided it would be more adaptable to focus more on my technological aspects so I could meet you and not risk my host body being infected."
#Sonic The Hedgehog#Sonic.EXE#Sonic.EXE au#Sonic.EXE OC#Slammer Sonic#Slammer Virus#sonic horror au#contaminated! au#contaminated! sonic#short story#virus meets virus#crossover moment#Metal Slammer Sonic#Charmy Bee#tw: blood#tw: gore#tw: worms
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Hello :) would it be okay if I could have a romantic JJBA matchup with a little fic.
I am a straight 23 year old female, pronouns are she/her who stands at 5’3 and my star sign is Capricorn. I have long black hair and hazel eyes, fashion wise I normally dress in black and other dark colours as black and purple are my favourite colours, I normally wear skinny jeans and combat boots so generally punk style or goth style. On special occasions I dress more girly, and my love language includes small touches and acts of service and in terms of relationships mutual respect for one another’s interests and hobbies is always a plus.
I’m normally shy when talking to people for the first and scared to approach people. When I get to know people, I am more open and hyper around them. I really enjoy testing myself and improving myself as a whole, I also like to take care of other people and make sure they’re doing okay. I normally spend my time watching horror movies, playing video games, reading, listening to music and I love watching anime’s such as JJBA, Demon Slayer, Attack on Titan etc. My favourite music genre is rock or metal and my favourite group at the minute is Rammstein.
Thank you for you time, I hope you have a fantastic day :)
hello dear!!! literally this took me a hot minute, but I got it!!! i think i have the PERFECT man for you!! so let's jump right in!!!
the character I chose for you is...
JOSUKE HIGASHIKATA!!!
this is a man of fashion, so he loves when you get all dressed up and he really does love the all black style
sometimes the two of you will do matching and he will 100% let you paint his nails
he would just love dressing up with you, period
know that at least one of his hands will be on you at almost all times
like majority of the time, it's just a light touch to your back or wrapped around your shoulder or even just lightly brushing against your hand
and always a little kiss on the cheek
and if you do that to him he will MELT
he also loves short little hugs so you will be pulled in for those A LOT
and he smells really good, so it's always a nice hug
he will want to hear about your interests ALL THE TIME
he is so intrigued and will support you in any way he can, it's super cute
and when you show interest in what he loves, it will make him fall deeper in love with you for sure
he is very good at meeting new people and becoming close to them, even if they're shy and you were definitely the same way
he just approached you and from then on you became inseperable
it's nice for him to have someone just as hyper as him
please be friends with his friends, he would love it
he loves that you are so there for him and he wants to be just as there for you, so he will try his hardest for sure
and he thinks it is so attractive that you are constantly trying to improve and it inspires him to do the same, but he doesnt want it to make you exhausted so he will always check up on you <3
expect a lot of cuddling and watching anime with him
he will literally watch anything with you, even if you're halfway through an arc he doesnt know about
and he wont even ask questions, he just likes being close to you <333
and per your request, my friend, here is your fic :)
MINI FIC
"Okay Josuke," you stepped out of your room, pushing your hair out of your eyes. "I'm ready!"
Josuke ran over and nearly fainted when he saw you. "Oh my god... y/n... you..."
You noticed his shocked expression and looked down at your outfit. "Is it bad?" You asked, hoping to god it wasn't because you were not in the mood to change.
"Bad?! y/n, no! This is..." he walked over and grabbed your hand, looking at every little detail in your dress. "This is beautiful. You look amazing."
You blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You mean that?"
"Of course I mean that." Josuke pulled you in for a hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck and placing a little kiss there. "I still can't believe I have the most beautiful girlfriend in the world."
You giggled, giving him a playful smack on the back. "Oh, stop it, Josuke."
He pulled away from the hug and gave you a little peck on the lips. "I'll never stop."
You pulled him closer, giving him a loving kiss and straightening the collar of his shirt. "You look great as well, handsome."
"Shall we then?" Josuke stuck at his arm and you took it.
"We shall." You giggled.
~~~~~
matchup rules --- pinned post
@tonberry-yoda
#i hope you like it!!#i love josuke personally fr#jjba#writing#fanfic#my writing#fanfiction#<3#jojos bizarre adventure#jjba x reader#jojos bizarre adventure x reader#josuke#josuke higashikata#josuke x reader#josuke higashikata x reader#diu#jjba part 4#matchup#matchups
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Rainbows Tinted Pink: A Rainbow High Swap AU
Chapter 3: Monarchs and Music Notes
Previous - Ch3 - Next
Come Monday morning, it was time for the group’s first classes of the semester, and the start of their work for the Runway project.
After their half an hour of Homeroom ended, sharply at eight thirty, the team split off to head to their first classes of the day. First up for Amaya and Skyler was Art of Fashion, Sunny’s was Animation Sensation, Jade had Hairstyling, Ruby’s was Graphic Design, Violet had Videography. And for Poppy, it was Art of Music.
She bounded into Room 109, full of excitement. Just as she sat down at her desk, Aidan Russell, a prefect and her fellow Music focus, approached her.
“Hey, Poppy? Would you mind coming up and doing a little demonstration for the class?”
“Oh, sure,” she agreed, a little uneasy, but her excitement to start her first class pushed it away.
Aidan led her up to the platform at the front of the room. On it, was a high-tech DJ table, a large black screen and a strange looking box filled with what looked like rainbow metal.
“Okay, I’m going to explain what’s gonna happen to the class, then just go ahead and start doing your thing, okay?”
“Cool, but what am I about to do?” she asked him, a little confused.
“Don't worry, you'll see,” Aidan grinned.
Poppy shrugged and calmly stepped up behind the turntable. If there was one thing she had learned from her first few days at Rainbow Hgh, it was to get used to unexpected shocks and surprises. The bell rang and once everyone else was seated, Aidan began addressing the class.
“Hey, so, no shocker here, I'm not your teacher. I'm Aidan Russell, Fine Arts teacher's assistant, and I love Art of Music because this is where music and art collide!”
“Rocking!” Poppy exclaimed.
“Beyond rocking!” Aidan grinned. “As you can see, I volunteered Poppy for a demonstration. Her turntable is hooked up to that screen, and that box of magnetic filings. You play your music and we'll see your art!”
“Legend!” Poppy cracked her knuckles, slipped on her headphones, and began to play her latest music mix, an upbeat party mix, sure to lift anyone’s spirits and make anyone want to get up and dance.
Within moments, the screen lit up in a vibrant rainbow of colours, pulsing with her beats, and the magnetic filings rippled around the box.
“See? It's like you're painting and sculpting, with sound!”
“Let's kick it up!” Poppy intensified her mix, as well as the colours on the screen and the movement of the filings.
So absorbed in her passion, Poppy hardly noticed her classmates suddenly stood up from their seats and began dancing to the music. It was as if they themselves had no idea, that it was a subconscious reaction of joy, fun and happiness to Poppy’s music.
As Aidan observed the classes’ reactions in awe, he was slightly taken aback. He’d heard a bit of her music in some of her social media pages, but he had no idea they would react this way. He snapped his fingers, as he was struck with a brilliant idea. He grabbed his phone, and called Avery, putting her on speaker.
“Aves, listen up. You need to hear this!”
He held his phone out in Poppy’s direction, just as she finished the last of her mix with a flourish, grounding the class back in reality. Everyone applauded her as she headed back to her seat.
“That was Poppy Rowan,” he quickly explained. “I think she'd be perfect for next Friday. Meet me at the break so we can talk!”
He shoved his phone in his pocket as the applause died down, before turning back to the class.
“Alright, now who wants to give it a try?”
🧡🎶🧡🎶🧡🎶🧡🎶🧡
Poppy immediately ran out of her class, and down to the first-year locker area to meet her roommates. She spotted the trio, along with a boy dressed in purple, once she'd reached the stairs, calling out to them.
“Amaya! Skyler! Sunny!” She ran down the first few steps before she slid down the bannister and ran over to them.
“Rainbow High is unreal! My Art of Music class was all like,” she spun around and drummed her fingers as she hummed and vocalised to her music. “Ba-da-dum!”
“Our Art of Fashion class was amazing too!” Amaya grinned.
“Yeah, we got some really good ideas and inspo for some runway outfits too, we’ll show you during Runway class,” Skyler added.
“My Animation Sensation class was awesome too!” Ooh, look, I made Hi Hi Kawaii characters based on us! And we're dancing!”
She pulled out her phone and opened her animation app. She pressed play on an animation of the four of them, as yellow, orange, blue and rainbow chibi characters danced. Sunny even did a few moves herself.
“Sunny, that's so cute!” Amaya gushed.
“Yeah, it's rad,” the boy in purple said.
“Oh!” Skyler realized he and Poppy hadn't been introduced. “Poppy, this is Colin.”
“Hey Poppy,” he politely greeted her. “Sky, I gotta roll. Catch you later?”
He swished his hair back and strolled away.
“Whoa whoa, slow your roll,” Poppy said, confused. “You have a boyfriend already?”
“No, I told you about him,” Skyler reminded her. “We've been together since sixth grade. I got into Rainbow High for Fashion and he's here for Mixed Media.”
“Oh yeah, right! Colin!”
“Come on, let's get a first-day picture together!” Amaya suggested, pulling out her phone.
“Roomie selfie time!” Sunny grinned.
But just as they were ready to snap their pic, they caught sight of a familiar trio approaching. Avery, Ainsley and Aidan walked up to them, cool and composed expressions on their faces.
“The A's,” Skyler sighed in awe.
“Oh! I think they're coming this way,” Amaya gasped.
“Look at Avery's hair!” Sunny squealed.
The aforementioned prefect gently pushed back her sparkling purple hair as she stepped closer to the girls. “Poppy?”
She stepped forward, a little nervous, but decided to put on a chill demeanour. “Hey! What's up?”
“We wanted to talk to you about your music. Aidan played me your tracks from earlier, and it’s so good. We're throwing a party to kick off the school year party for our underclassmen next week, and we’d love it if you’d be our DJ!”
“Yes!” Sunny blurted out. “I mean- I'm sure Poppy will say yes. Right Poppy?”
“For sure! I'd be stoked,” she grinned.
“Not so fast,” Ainsley interrupted. “This party has to be perfect, so we need to hear more. Can you get us a new mix by the end of the school day?”
“It's gotta be seriously legit,” Aidan added.
“Uh, sure! I can do that!”
“Awesome. So, meet us back here after the last period and you can play it for us,” Avery told her. “Deal?”
“Deal!” Poppy grinned, ecstatic.
“Great! See you then,” she swished her hair back and with that, the trio strode away, leaving the four girls in awe and excitement.
“This is so exciting!” Amaya gasped. “You're gonna DJ for The A's!”
“But how can you make a mix when you're in class for the rest of the day?” Skyler asked.
“Easy, I've got my turntable app! I can use most of the lunch hour, then I’ve got a free period next, then Music Composition and Runway! I just have to stay in my head and concentrate on the tunes!”
She pulled out her headphones, opened the app and quickly got to work on her mix.
If the three coolest prefects were going to have her as their DJ, for the first party of the year, this needed to be mind-blowing!
🧡🎶🧡🎶🧡🎶🧡🎶🧡
Throughout the day, Poppy composed her party mix. Her headphones had hardly been removed all day, as the orange-haired girl slowly but surely became absorbed by her craft. She’d sampled, rewinded, fast-forwarded and simply listened to her music mixes. As the school day drew to a close, in Poppy’s eyes, it was as if the rest of the school melted away. The world became awash with colours and music, even now during Runway class.
“Poppy?”
She was on a roll! Her mix was almost at perfection, it just needed a few more finishing touches.
“Poppy!”
Nothing was going to stop her now, nothing!
“Poppy?! Are you in there?” Jade cried into her ear as she yanked off her headphones, abruptly bringing her back to reality, her disorientation apparent.
“Huh? What? Um, yeah! Where?”
“Earth to Poppy,” Amaya giggled. “We're trying to pick our first look for the project.”
“Skyler and Amaya drew these,” Ruby motioned to their sketchpads.
Poppy moved over to the two sketchbooks. Amaya had drawn a red floor-length gown with black opera gloves, while Skyler had gone for a black crop top with a long red skirt.
“We love them both, but we know they're too similar and we can only use one,” Skyler quickly explained.
“We all voted,” Amaya added. “But we're split three-three, so we need you to break the tie.”
“Now? But I'm so close on my mix,” she protested. “If I let the tune get out of my head, I won't finish!”
“She has the chance to DJ for The A's,” Sunny explained. “They're throwing a party next week, and they asked her personally!”
“For the A's? Hashtag life goals!” Violet squealed. “Stay in your head and mix!”
“Violet,” Jade cut in. “This is our semester project, we need her to choose a design.”
Everyone paused for a moment, torn. Just then Amaya had a brilliant idea.
“Wait, I’ve got an idea! Poppy, choose the look you like the most, while you finish your mix. Sing us what you think, to the beat of your music!”
“Rocking!” Poppy turned off Bluetooth, turned her volume up all the way, and began playing her mix, singing along to music.
“I like this cut and I like this style. I love the beading, it's so sweet and I have to smile! Sky and Maya you're my girls, you never criticize but you're asking my opinion so I'm giving you no lies! If I gotta make a choice, I'll just tell you how I feel, I say this one is the one because it's how I keep it real!”
She pointed to Skyler’s sketch with a flourish as the music finished and everyone clapped and cheered.
“Score!” Poppy cried with a smile. “I finished the mix! I'm ready!”
“And we have our first look for the runway show,” Skyler grinned. “Six more to go!”
“I gotta get to the A's. You all rock!” Poppy exclaimed, running out of the door.
🧡🎶🧡🎶🧡🎶🧡🎶🧡
Poppy bolted back to the lockers and arrived moments after Avery, Ainsley and Aidan did, just as the bell rang. She gave them her phone, mix at the ready. They pressed play and began listening intently.
As she waited anxiously, her friends joined her, huddled by the lockers, smiling supportively. The mix finished, and the trio glanced at each other, silently deliberating.
“It's good!” Avery announced, breaking the silence and handing Poppy back her phone. “Party's next Friday, make sure you're ready. You got the gig.”
“I’m gonna get a turntable for you,” Aidan continued. “And you can set that up whatever way you want to.”
“We can talk properly about fees later, but we think sixty to seventy dollars for the night is fair,” Ainsley added.
“See you then, Poppy!” Avery called as they began to leave.
And with that, the trio sauntered away. Poppy sighed in relief, before joy overtook her. She turned back to her friends, as they crowded around her, hugging her tightly and congratulating her.
Suddenly, Violet pulled away from them and gasped. “We've only got one week to choose an outfit for the party!”
“Closets! Now!” Ruby declared, and everyone ran up to their dorms in search of outfits.
Next Friday’s party was going to be insane.
————
AN: Thanks for reading! If you’ve like this, feel free to like, comment and reblog. See you next time, where a little misunderstanding leads to our girls being locked in a salon.
#rainbow high#poppy rowan#ruby anderson#sunny madison#jade hunter#skyler bradshaw#violet willow#avery styles#ainsley slater#aidan russell#rainbow high fanfiction#rainbow high fanfic#rainbows tinted pink
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Memories of a Woodland Spectre
Ah, good to see you! Come on in, sit down.
I apologize for the mess; been busy, you know how it is.
Can I get you anything to drink? I've just opened this bottle of scotch. Grandpa loves it!
Listen, I wanted to tell you a story, if you'd like.
I was walking out in the forest where the trees wrap their branches around me, on my way to my thinking rock.
This time of year there's no footprints, at least not from people, and everything's covered in snow, so I'm just trying to find the way on pure intuition. So I pass by this blue spruce with kind of a funny whoville top so I know I'm going the right way, and that's when I see these two bears, and you're going to think I'm out of my tree but I swear to whatever god is around here,
I could hear them.
There was a big one and a little one, and the big one spoke, and the little one listened and nodded, and I froze in my tracks.
These big, majestic, frankly terrifying creatures were right there, and I'm not about to try to speak bear, so I sat down and listened too, because I was there to think anyway and I might as well have something to think about.
The big bear talked about some travellers that came in a big metal box full of metal boxes, all of which spoke languages older than the hills. When she talked about being observed by them, I felt a little guilty- she said they followed her wherever she went, watched what she ate, who she met, and never once even tried to understand her. They could have just asked, of course!
Then she mentioned a little girl who came and talked to her a few years ago.
The girl had explained that those were scientists, and the little bear asked what that was, and the big bear explained that scientists are people who really want to know everything. The little bear asked wouldn't that be boring, and the big one agreed, but she said it was okay because they never knew what she was like anyway. They didn't know how to fish without a metal box, they didn't know how to talk without a box, they even slept in boxes full of sorted groups of each other.
It sounded like the scientists just want to put things in boxes, the little bear said, and I laughed because he didn't know how right he was.
So back to that little girl. The way the bear told it, the little girl explained that not all people are scientists, and some people really like and trust them but some people don't. And she said her dad was a scientist who really liked nature, and she really liked nature too, but she thought the scientists didn't understand.
And the big bear didn't speak human but she listened and listened. Every day the girl would find the bear, and every day the bear would listen, and the girl would say I like you, you're a good friend, and the big bear would reply. I couldn’t understand the word she used, but it was sort of a knowing, patient growl.
They played and talked and looked at the clouds and the girl and the bear got older, loved, tried new things, told stories, knew each other.
The little bear had a hundred questions on his face but only asked a careful one: what happened to the girl?
The answer was that one day, the girl came and painted the big bear, and the bear was a good model, and the painting looked beautiful.
She didn't need a box to make art, she didn't even need every colour. She could make colours by mixing the dirt from the forest with the sparkle in her eyes.
After that, she thanked the bear and disappeared for a while. When she came back, she looked sick. Her body was healthy, but her eyes were dark.
I promised, the big bear said, to keep secret what she told me. So I won't disrespect her. But the last thing the girl said in this version of the story was that there will never be a box that could fit either of them.
The big bear said this was good advice, but she wasn't a scientist and she didn't need boxes anyway, so she wasn't really sure what that meant.
The little bear simply looked thoughtfully.
With that, the bears disappeared into the snowy brush.
I never made it to my thinking rock that day. I went home, because I had too much to think about.
Never did fully make sense of it all.
I didn't expect you to have any idea either, don't worry.
You're an artist now, aren't you? Much better line of work than the old neighbours, I don't know what they did but they were so damn loud...
Anyhow, it's nice to see your family back around here, we missed y’all.
Oh, and apropos of nothing, I love that tattoo on your arm. Tell me the story behind those three stars in a row?
#i cannot be left to my own devices during english classes#also for those in uni with the option#i highly recommend taking a more interesting english class than the basic critical analysis#i'm taking indigenous literature and it's fascinating
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Today's special writing piece is the first (and so far only) chapter of my little novella about The Neighbourhood Watch! They're a team of misfit superheroes who (try to) stop petty crimes in a small suburban neighbourhood! Enjoy!!
It was three in the morning, the perfect time for a crime. Criminals are easily scared, and are very wary of superstitions. They strike at night, when no one can see their sins. No one, except Gadgetron. He had nightvision.
The Neighbourhood Watch was out making their usual patrol, in the early hours of the morning, when Gadgetron detected something. Out in Brick Wall Park, against the lone brick wall the park was named after, where there weren't any street lights to cast shadows, there was a small group of criminals spray painting. Three of them. They thought they were hidden, completely unseen by the world. But Gadgeteron had infrared vision built into his electronic eyes. They were attempting to ruin Brick Wall Park's brick wall, staining it with brightly coloured portraits of their deepest feelings and desires. They smeared their hopes and dreams, their wants and needs across the wall, holding them out for the world to see. An admirable expression, but ultimately, still illegal.
When Gadgetron saw them, his eyes lit up green. The green glow glistened off his metallic skin. His antenna buzzed as his gears whirred. His sharp, robotic voice cut through the cold night air. "Criminals spotted! Three of them in the park! By the wall!"
"I see them," Bi Aro responded. He was closer to them than the rest of the group was. He stood in one of the nearest trees, nestled in its small branches like an elephant on a palm tree. The tree was small, barely able to support the weight of a fully grown adult. Bi Aro didn't notice how low the branches were bending. His purple shirt stuck out from the green leaves like a sore thumb, but it was dark so it didn't matter that much. He grabbed his bow and notched two razor sharp arrows on the string. Unfortunately for him, there were three vandals, and he wasn't Tri Aro. He'd have to save them for the rest of the team. But he could still cause a bit of chaos! He pulled his string back, and held his breath. It was really dark. He wished he wasn't wearing sunglasses. Unfortunately, taking his pink sunglasses off would mess up his whole bi pride style, and he couldn't have that. He let the arrows fly. He silently prayed that they hit their mark.
The arrows flew through the darkness. They pierced the paint cans in the vandals hands. the cans exploded, releasing thick clouds of paint to billow around the vandals. The vandals screamed, dropping the cans. The world around them quickly grew fuzzy due to the cloud, but also because they were inhaling lungfuls of paint. They turned to run, teetering as they did so. As they ran, a figure appeared from the smoke. He stood in front of them, standing eerily still. He wore a cheap looking tuxedo, complete with a red bowtie. He had a domino mask hiding his eyes, perched on his sly face over his thin pencil moustache. He seemed to wobble and wave in the smog. The vandals thought it was because he was a magical entity. Really, it was just the paint fumes. The man pulled a deck of cards out of his jacket pocket and began shuffling them, like he was about to do a card trick.
"Listen up you hooligans!" The magician said sternly, in the same voice a teacher would use with a misbehaving student. "I will not stand idly by as you besmirch the good image of Brick Wall Park! Go home, or face the wrath of..." He flicked a card into his empty hand, holding it up proudly for the trio to see. It was the ace of spades. "...The Gambler!"
One of the three crooks, a scrawny looking young man, collapsed to his knees in front of The Gambler. He slowly opened his mouth to speak. "We- We're real sorry magic man."
Gambler tucked the card back into his deck, relaxing his posture and taking a step towards the three. He held his hand out to the young man, helping him off the ground. "A wise decision. Now lets get you home. It's a school night."
The man grabbed Gambler's hand. Gambler's white gloves were soft in the man's hand. Gambler's arms strained slightly as he pulled the man up to his feet. His arms were thin and scrawny, the padding of his suit hiding his lack of muscle. By the time the man got back on his feet, Gambler was a little red in the face.
"Good idea," The man said, turning away from Gambler. The other two vandals turned with him and began walking with him. "It's late... We should probabl-"
He stopped midsentence as he ran into a wall of solid purple flesh. The soft flabby tissue of the skin and fat dulled the blow of the rock hard muscles concealed underneath. The trio looked at what they had just unwittingly headbutted. In front of them stood the figure of a man, around eight feet tall. He was purple, with ripped green pants being his only clothing. His body looked out of shape at first glance, bulbous, with a bulging belly. However, the trio could tell it contained great strength underneath, like an Olympic deadlifter. His hair was disheveled and black, his eyes glowing purple in the dim night air. His nose was flared. His teeth were gritted tight. Steam seemed to billow from his nostrils and the corner of his mouth. He was angry. He looked like a bull ready to charge.
"It's a troll!!" The trio called out, before turning around and running as hard as they could. They split up, each taking a different escape route.
"Monster like your art!" The great purple man called out into the night behind them. He got no response however, indicating that his enthusiasm may have been too little too late. He didn't seem to notice, calling out louder to ensure the poor artists felt seen. "Self expression very good!!"
The paint fumes began to dissipate from the air, as Gambler walked up to Monster and attempted to place a hand on his shoulder. He couldn't quite reach. His hand landed somewhere around Monster's elbow.
"Monster," Gambler spoke softly, as if talking to a confused child. "It is wonderful art to be sure. But we can not allow them to deface public monuments like this!"
"Monster know," Monster said calmly, still scanning the horizon for the artists. "Vandalism wrong. But it still healthy expression of feelings others may repress. Monster respect that."
"You just like all art," Bi Aro said, swooping out of the tree and joining the conversation.
"That very true. Monster admire the artists courage to bare themselves to outside world. Monster awestruck by the vulnerability of art."
"If I may interject my feelings into the conversation," Gadgetron said, slowly walking up to the party. "I prefer science. Vulnerability may be inspiring to some, but I prefer finding the abject truth of the matter."
"That is valid opinion, and Monster thank you for sharing. Even if robot is wrong."
"I fancy myself a fan of the arts," Gambler spoke with a smirk. He pulled a card from his sleeve, proudly presenting it to the rest of the group. "I've always had quite a flair for the dramatics."
A light lit up in a second story window of a small suburban house overlooking the park. A small, stocky man poked his head out the window. He pulled his circular spectacles higher up the bridge of his nose, squinting his eyes at the dim dusk of the park scene below. He rubbed his snowy, white beard, matching his snowy, white hair.
"What's going on out there?" The man called, leaning out the window. He teetered over the edge rather precariously. "It's you! The Neighborhood Whackos!! Dolores! They vandalized the brick wall!"
The quarter of superheroes turned to look at the wall. The paint fumes kicked into the air had settled nicely against the brick wall, creating a rather neat looking mosaic of flowing colours. The heroes sighed in defeat. They had failed to protect their park.
"Here! Take these!" The old man shouted, throwing a handful of rags out the window. "None of you are going anywhere until that wall is spotless! Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes Mr. Richards..." The heroes muttered in sync, hanging their heads low in shame. Even Gadgetron looked down at the floor, and he was a robot that couldn't feel shame.
The crew scrubbed the wall all night. They scrubbed till the rags tore and their arms were sore. But eventually, the wall was spotless. The quartet took a step back to admire their handiwork. In the distance, the sun began rising over the horizon, casting a golden glow on the now clean wall. The heroes puffed out their chest. They had won!
"Come on guys," Bi Aro said with a smirk as he turned from the wall. "I'm going to bed."
And just like that, The Neighbourhood Watch had saved the day again.
#comics#comic books#web comics#dc comics#marvel#mcu#marvel mcu#c#comic panels#marvel comics#creative writing#writing#writers on tumblr#writeblr#writerscommunity#short story#novella#short stories#self publishing#author
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So from a poor 90s kid who listened to Evanescence twice and decided she was goth (I branched out later, but you get the idea) and who had a very emo best friends, some DYI stuff we did: - the band T-shirts/patches are too expensive? You can make your own with some fabric paint/markers/bleach. A bit later, when I got into death metal, I made myself a pair of period panties where I drew on the Bloodbath logo on some cheap cotton pair. (they fell apart after a long time and are still greatly missed)
-. When you don’t want to sew on the patches from whatever reason, that’s what are safety pins for. Also safety pins just as a decoration anywhere, I usually had mine on trousers.
- when our cheap studded belts (at the time, they were anywhere in the cheep clothing stores) fell apart, we reused the studs and put them everywhere, most notably pants and bags. You can get any bland looking bag and with patches, safety pins and studs you can transform it quite easily.
- ripped stockings. You can layer them. You can layer more colours. You can combine them with fishnets. So many options with stockings. If you cut out the feet and the crotch area, you’ll get a cool underlayer for tanktops. The layering options are of course the same as if you wore them on your legs.
- once I thrifted a red top which my historical fashion loving heart refuses to call corset now but it pretty much served that purpose. I sew on a few pieces of lace on it and to make the middle panel more interesting, I cut out a piece of old stockings and sew it on to make the panel darker.
- lace is your friend, put it on everything. Also, you can just take a piece of lace, tie it around your neck and you have a choker. Tie it around your wrist and you have a bracelet
- everything that can be laced up can have its laces replaced
- in regards of thrifting, try to look at everything that can be in any shape or form layered, easily transformed into anything else or taken apart for materials. You need to train your eye for it a little but it is worth it
Actually I'll never forgive Punk Rave and Killstar and fast fashion brands for tricking people into thinking that being goth or punk or emo is expensive. Babygirl the only goth brand names you need to know are Rit, Good Will, Etsy, and Studs and Spikes, we used to shove safety pins through our ears and then they started selling earrings that look like safety pins for 15.99. We used to dye thrifted wedding dresses black and they started selling gothic gowns for 300 bucks. We used to put studs on boots we found in the back of the good will and they started making Demonias. DIY or die wasn't perfect it can be exclusionary to disabled people but whatever the fuck we've got going on right now is so much worse. It's not any more inclusive to the disabled and it is exclusionary to the people who made punk, to the people who made goth, to the people who made emo. If you've got the funds and you don't want to do diy pay someone else to do it for you but please let it be a small artist or a friend not some guy in a suit who's made it his business to gentrify punk. You can turn flats into platforms with flipflops, hotglue and gumption don't let anyone tell you different.
#i tried to find some photos from that era#but it is currently lost who knows where#and my old blog no longer exists and i didn't make a backup#silly me
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#06 A Poppy In the Field
Lone Brace the Winds
"It stayed in its neon tones, a tall tower in the midst of dying thriving urban decay"
The sixth issue of Cunning Moss Words is focused on striving alone and thinking anew. A shout out to those who believe in good changes and accept their truths rather than listening to bitter words that are sprung sharp to keep you quiet. Scatter the seeds and plant a new field.
Somewhere, in nowhere
In the middle of fields
Bloomed a poppy
In prince orange peels
Above unnamed roots
Of soil and spoken truce
It grew where it was not wanted
And bloomed before it could be struck
By anyone who noticed its unweaving heart
For before, poppy grew with poppies
In all their safely samely paper petals
Swaying in their orderly stem fashion
But one started to stutter in its pace-
Even those poppies grew unsure of poppy
And poppy grew tired of trying
Trying to sway and glow the same
To be delicate with paper petal veins
With all their pinks, reds and orange stains
That bleeds into a smear of paint-
The flower meadow was not happy
They swayed to poppy to stay the same
For poppies belonged to grow together
Not single, unlike their gathering ways
But no words could change the thought
Poppy blew off course and grew on its own
Thrived alone surrounded by unfamiliar thoughts
In what was once considered a weakness
Became poppy’s strong growing strength
Overrun and over swamped
Here there was room to stretch above
So Poppy later became Poppies
In a field of its own bed of things
All weeping in raw uncertainty
Tougher against the winds
Turning seeds, all scattering free
Spreading across the fields green
For the earth to paint a new sea
In poppy's passed down dreams
Nowhere is somewhere for everyone who is told not to change or that they morph too much in a day. For small spaces, odd spaces, crowded spaces, and clear spaces become a balance of words and safe cocoon turf when you fix yourself to be the thing that you factly certainly are. There is no undoing or deleting, just reshaping and breathing, not a want or a need, just the base of existing. Regardless of how you decide to reshape yourself, a simple change makes you become that bead against the current. There is no guarantee there will be a place to stay and be held, be loved at all in that moment. No necklace to be threaded on, just waiting on string to be broken. For the people all around, growing to their wilted stop- will always be focused on I’s instead of We’s, only focused when you become a tirelessly annoying out of sync thing.
Odd how we do not turn to tear each other apart every second of every day, for we are all too different in our own thoughtful right bearing ways. All believing we are budding buds in fields of grass when we are in fact a wall made of bricks and mortar. Set and built on a rank of ideas that must be torn fixed when we don’t follow a constant line of the collective mind. Should we be punished for seeing differently or knowing what is right from wrong? Our shifting ideas and identities are stuck together no matter where we turn to breathe alone. Stuck on I’s until we may become a US, then are indefinitely stuck on We and no I or You to think separately. Choices, thoughts, feelings and words are truest to yourself even though others might not care to see or accept your truest thing isn’t against the crowds flowing I(‘s) think.
We I see it, just like that. It was a splash of colour amongst dumped work rubble in what felt like the middle of nowhere (which was a somewhere for someone). Sat growing on a busy winding road which made its tough small self, tremble in the dry warmth. A poppy, alone to brace the winds of the motors that were breathing and burning petrol fumes at sensitive noises. You grew in harsh dumped stones and metal bars of someone's rubbish dump, it didn’t stop you from thriving where you shouldn’t have to be growing. Did you choose to plant yourself here, did you get a choice or did you follow where the winds go or planned to give a messed up place a chance to sort your own messed up hopeful thoughts?
It stayed in its neon tones, a tall tower in the midst of dying thriving urban decay. It stayed standing tall when it rained down a storm and when the tarmac baked in a span of a week and a day. It stayed as I passed it in ‘let me take in the world’ walks. It stayed until that single poppy died, broken, dry and tumbled into the rubble it once bloomed in. But in its demise, several more poppy strands started sprouting in its staying place, its story passing through its seedy window beams. Furthermore, they scattered to the petrol engine generated winds and blew to more discarded disregarded places to bloom within its brash conditions. What a wonderful thing.
So let me breathe, let me think, just cause my right doesn’t match your left doesn’t mean my words are all thoughtless and wrong spoken. I just can’t see the I when you have forced me to think always of Us and You, God enough. Let me cry! For you don’t seem to know the hum it leaves for me to rest in the pain that freezes in tears. Don’t scold me for leaving to breathe alone and not relying on someone else’s heartbeat to be in sync with a living beat. Don’t make me acknowledge every aspect of You when you can’t seem to meet the middle to see Me. I want to be a poppy with a field of poppies who would follow me with fair grace, even when we disagree. We’d all be boring if we glowed the same shade and bloomed the same way, let the poppies grow into their different things. To each their own, there is somehow wrong and right, but let me learn to brace the winds and know what is my right and left, correct choices and mistakes to be made and met. All broken string beads with our scattered somewheres leading to I am there- I am here.
© 2023 Cunning Moss Words - Written by Anayis N. Der Hakopian
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[09:23 pm]: choi soobin || part 2
“i’m done, i’m just gonna sleep on the damn floor,” soobin groans as he plops down on the ground, letting his back hit the wall and resting his head against it.
the two of you are currently in the process of moving into a shared apartment, and it’s going as well as one would expect: boxes everywhere, you’re both starving after hauling boxes and furniture all day, and none of the key pieces like your beds, couch or even just chairs are assembled yet.
…which means you’ll have to sleep on the floor on the first night in your new apartment. how nice.
soobin was the one that insisted on assembling it all yourselves, since getting it delivered and assembled is a scam, why would we pay someone to do that? it’s gonna be fine.
it wasn’t fine.
at first you were ecstatic to be moving in with your lifelong best friend, but now, staring at all the half-assembled pieces of furniture, little screws, metal pieces and manuals strewn all over the floor, you start to have your doubts.
“you know, if we had just payed—“
“if we had payed we would have wasted a shit ton of money, and for what?”
there is a scowl on your face, and it makes you wonder why he has such a personal vendetta against hiring someone to assemble some furniture.
“well for starters, we wouldn’t have to sleep on the stupid floor—”
“one night on the floor won’t kill us. you’re supposed to sleep on a hard surface anyways, right? it’s good for your back. i think, i dunno,” he shrugs at the end and you can’t help but snort at him.
“could you at least try to be convincing, bin?”
“listen, i’m just as pissed and tired as you. let’s just unpack some pillows and a blanket for now, and i promise we’ll work on our beds first thing in the morning.”
you observe him for a second, and only now do you notice the overwhelming exhaustion on his face. maybe sleeping on the floor isn’t so bad after all. maybe it’ll get rid of the kink in your neck.
you let out a sigh, and turn to the mountains of boxes, “fine. but you better help me look for a blanket.”
within 20 minutes the mess on the floor is made even worse by random pieces of clothes, cutlery, books and decorations strewn around. the mountains of boxes have been reduced to little hills consisting of half-empty boxes, the contents messily thrown around in the desperate search of a pillow or a blanket.
emptying another box filled with clothes and finding nothing of value you sigh and move on to the next one; a lighter box that upon opening envelops you in the warm, fluttering feeling of nostalgia.
the box is filled to the brim with childhood pictures, drawings and notebooks you filled out when you were younger, colouring books, diaries, sticker books — your entire childhood was staring back at you from that box and you can’t resist the urge to look through it all, right now.
carefully examining the contents of the box, you start by taking a closer look at the heaps of pictures, chuckling a little at the dozens of pictures of you and soobin. you and soobin during a play in kindergarten, holding hands and both of your faces painted in a wide array of colours. you and soobin on your 8th birthday, with him holding his gifts for you proudly into the camera while you’re standing next to him, most assuredly buzzing with excitement. soobin bidding you farewell for the two week camp your parents signed you up to when you were 10, both of you crying and unwilling to spend two weeks apart from each other.
“bin, come look at what found..”
“y/n, if it isn’t a soft, cuddly pillow i don’t want to—“ soobin cuts himself off when he sees the pictures in your hand, and you can tell he’s experiencing the same wave of warm nostalgia you had when you first opened the box.
he takes the pictures from your hands, sifting through them with a fond smile on his face. while he continues to go through the pictures, you focus your attention on the other things in the box.
sticking out between two wildly decorated notebooks was an envelope. upon closer inspection you can tell it’s a little older, the edges a little worn. the envelope is decorated with stickers and your name is written in confident but clumsy writing, a little heart scribbled next to your name.
you open the envelope carefully, not wanting to accidentally damage a childhood relic, especially one as cute as this. the letter inside makes you want to scream and cry thanks to the sheer cuteness of it all.
hello y/n
i like you
i will buy you an ice cream
so pleas like me back
mom says we can marry if you want
bye
there were little scribbles of cats, smiley faces, hearts and stick figures (that presumably represent you and your mysterious admirer) all over the papers, leaving little to no unoccupied space. they are delightful, and the contents of the letter are a whole different level of adorable.
you can’t help the little awww that escapes you, and soobin immediately leans over to check what has you swooning like that, when your original quest of searching for blankets and pillows seems to have been long forgotten. his eyes almost pop out his skull when he sees, no, recognises the letter.
“how could i have forgotten this? it‘s so cute,“ you mumble, and soobin snorts. “yeah, super cute how you can barely read it. i remember my mom making me practice writing it all out a few times because it was so hard to read,“ soobin chuckles and sifts through some of the other stuff in the box.
you just blink down at the letter, then up at soobin. he was so casual about it, as if it was a well-known fact. feeling your heavy stare on him he stops rummaging and meets your eyes, “…what? is there dust on my face—“
“you wrote it?“
the disbelief in your voice makes his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, nodding silently. why were you so surprised? who else would it have been, other than him?
“bin, you‘re telling me you had a crush on me and didn‘t think to tell—“
“i was like five, what does it matte—“
“yeah, you were five but you wanted to marry me! that’s a serious crush—“
he groans and snatches the letter from your hands, folding it up and fiddling it back into the envelope, “let’s just forget this, it’s history.”
you grin and pinch his cheek, making him scowl and stare at you with furrowed brows, “well, how can i know it’s history if you never told me about it?? you could still want to marry me! so tell me bin, what about me—“
“y/n please, we were five! everyone else was ‘getting married’ and you were my closest friend, okay? even if i had a crush, it doesn’t matter anymore—“
“okay, then when did it stop?“
“what?”
“the crush. when did you get over me?”
he stares at you, stammering something akin to what do you mean and why do you care, though it comes out all jumbled. he’s shaking his head in disbelief, looking at you as if you’re crazy.
“it’s just a question, bin.” your voice is soft now and he hates it; hates the fact that it makes him feel like you’re pitying him, like he’s a loser. he can practically envision you telling him that it’s your fault and not his, how he’s your best friend, how you love him but don’t see him that way — it makes his blood boil and just throws him further down the hole.
he huffs and walks over to the other side of the room, ripping open another box, all in silence.
“..soobin?“ no answer, just him rummaging through the contents of the box.
“bin, i’m sorr—“
he suddenly pulls out a blanket, and finds some pillows underneath as well. he briefly looks at you, kneeling on the floor to make a somewhat comfortable arrangement the two of you can sleep in for the night. you walk over to him and before you can react, he mumbles, “i don’t want to talk about it, okay? i‘m tired, please.“
you nod silently and go to turn off the lights when he is done building a (admittedly) rather sad looking sleeping arrangement, and as much as you want to tease him, it would probably just make him more upset. so you bite your tongue, laying down next to him and stare up at the ceiling in silence.
you‘ve slept next to each other countless times, but not once did soobin seem this hell-bent on bringing as much space as possible between you two. “night,” you mumble, fully expecting him to ignore you, but to your surprise he says it back. the two of you lay next to each other like two wood blocks, and it’s incredibly awkward. this is you and soobin, there is no awkward between you two! both of you are uneasy, and you can feel his hand twitch next to you when you readjust your position a little.
taking a deep breath your own hand slowly inches towards soobin’s, until your pinkies are touching. it takes a while for either of you to move, until soobin carefully moves his hand towards yours. then you move yours a little closer, then him, so on and so forth until you end up with your hands tightly intertwined. you were ready to fall asleep like this and pretend nothing ever happened once you wake up tomorrow. up until soobin suddenly breaks the silence, that is.
“we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
you’re glad he can’t see your face, because you can’t help the goofy smile on your face.
“okay.”
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