#puppet stubble

[sailing-on-a-puddle]

@womble1 couldn't find a gif of this one so here's some more puppet stubble from my favourite tos episode!

[sailing-on-a-puddle]

@womble1 you've got me looking for puppet stubble gifs now and for me nothing beats Gordon's 'I've been on a boat with this tool who tried to murder my brother for far too long now. I'm angry, stubbley and it's taking all my effort not to punch him in the face' 😂

So you know how this scene happened and we were all wondering what Gordon would have looked like with facial hair? We may never know… but at least we have this:

[autumnfangirler]

got tagged by @m3k-fhr and @thecryptidenthusiast to use this picrew! this picrew was so cute so of course i did all of my steps and their puppets

tagging @silvery-bluish @euelios and @gonesoft-ish if any of you are interested?

[heretyc]

Prime Assets On Valentines Day

Happy belated Valentines day! I had a dental appointment yesterday and was loopy as hell so I slept :( to think I have another in 3 days...heeeeelp lol. I don't fear the dentist [I find them calming funnily enough] but I hate the freezing you experience after. Blehhhh

"Happy Valentimes day."

You're not brave enough to correct him; Coyle's grumbling to himself as he wraps you in a short hug, his stubble against your cheek. "Don't know why them scientific fucks say we should celebrate this shit, but...it's whatever. And I guess I tolerate you a lil' bit."

Awww. Romantic.

"Here. Don't ask where I got it from."

His smirk was contagious as Lupara was placed into your hands. "Shoot them large fuckers if they go near ya."

You could hear Barbi's curses from here.

Warm were the arms that embraced you, gloved hands quick to place themselves onto your clothed ass.

"Oh, Happy Valentine's day, sweetness!"

Barbi sounded chipper, his lips quick to peck your own. "Them Murkoff fucks are letting us have the day together," he smirked, licking his lips, "You know me, your man has a way with words. And gunfights." He snorted, motioning around him, "This here...is a replication..." he rolled his eyes, "of my casino. It's shit, but it's something. Come on."

If there was one thing Barbi was good at, it was rigging casino machines. You won at every single one.

But every prize was a condom. So I suppose you can put two and two together.

"This day is a fucking scam, Phyllis," Futterman could be heard from across the room, "Why bothers?"

"Because it's a day to celebrate...what, daddy?"

"Capitalism."

"LOVE, daddy!" She cooed, "Love! And that's what we're going to do!" Gooseberry waddled over to you the moment you entered her line of sight, "Happy Valentines day! We're going to have fun today!"

"Ah, yes," Futterman chortled, "funs, as in spending our moneys and rubbing your cunts toget-"

"Enough about him," she shoved the Puppet into the fountain below; his words didn't diminish her grin as she offered her free hand, "Come along, deary! I have things planned for the both of us!"

[kidwaffle120]

My man has been through the ringer, thanks puppet man. Oh and Spencer too ya sociopath

Jacks

[ghouljams]

Omg how's Gaz and the maid doing??? We haven't heard of them in forever. They're the least depressing ones in this AU, I think.

Love you and your writing btw

Muah

You wave the letter from you father in front of Lord Garrick's face, uncaring for your decorum when all you want to do is jump across his desk and strangle him. Your father, loving as he may be, is marvelously angry. Someone claiming to be the king's advisor, though you suspect it truly was your lord, has asked him for your hand in marriage. Which has caused your father to make the understandable assumption that you're pregnant. Why else would a nobleman begin marriage talks with him? It's not as if you're of any high standing, you're just barely a step above a peasant from working in the castle but you are still woefully common.

"Is this some sort of joke?" You ask Lord Garrick, slamming your letter against his desk. He looks down at it, then back to you.

"It's not a very funny one if it is," He responds, taking the letter from under your fingers and standing.

You take a step back from his desk, suddenly reminded of your station. Garrick reads over your father's letter as he steps around the desk, you turn with his path, keeping your eyes trained on him. You're too wary to look away, he's unpredictable and you lose all thought when he touches you. Which seems to be the only thing he wants to do, and you can't say you feel any different.

He's charming.

He's gorgeous.

He's dangerous.

He's far, far, too close to you too quickly.

He holds your chin between his fingers, soft and loose, it locks you in place. The memory of his thumb sliding against your lips makes your cheeks flash with heat, goosebumps prickling over your skin when you force it back down.

"You father thinks you're pregnant." Garrick summarizes, his eyes darting over the letter in his opposite hand. You wish he'd look at you, or let you go so you can get some distance. His eyes are so rich this close.

You feel the memory of his hands on you so often you'd convinced yourself you were sleepwalking. The press of his chest against your back haunted your dreams. The tip of his head as he leaned over you followed you through the back halls. And yet nothing hung over your head quite so sharply as the fleeting feeling of his stubble brushing your jaw, interrupted too soon, and taking too much to walk away from. He called you "doll" but maybe "puppet" was more accurate.

"I'm not," You assure him, assure yourself and the memory of your father's frown. Lord Garrick hums, something flickering over his gaze that you can't parse.

"You could be," He reasons, "you've been in and out of my chambers alone, and you're so-" his fingers move from your chin to stroke over your cheek, his thumb rubbing just below your eye as he cups your face, "-beautiful, it wouldn't be unbelievable."

A shiver fingers its way through you, spreading to touch each muscle along your spine, up your cheeks and down to your fingertips. You tense all over to keep from shaking at the way your lord looks at you. An almost pitying, but unmistakable hunger that makes your heart quicken in your chest.

"I'm a virgin," You remind yourself, "I could have a physician check, write something as proof."

"Or you could let me check." Garrick breathes, his gaze consumptive, pulling you closer with each breath. He tips his head and you feel that phantom brush of his stubble, with no one to save you from yourself this time. "Your husband is better suited for that, don't you think, poppet?"

[lisenberry]

Ngl I feel like price has a size kink… he loves how big his hands look splayed across your waist. His hand completely encompassing the nape of your neck!!!! Don’t get me started on how tight you feel around his thick fingers….

I apologize. That sound you heard was my brain screeching to a halt and coherent thought leaving me for a few days as I pictured John's hand on your hip. 

Nsfw. Smutty smut smut. Bossy, handsy Price.

His fingers gripped you dead center, just above your pubic bone.  His thumb circled around to graze the opposite polarity.  Massaging deep circles where your ass met your spine.

You'd never thought of yourself as small.  No one ever called you 'little' or commented that you would fit so nicely over their knee.  Not until him.

Not until you watched from the mirror above the cold, stainless steel sink as his other massive paw circled your neck.  He made you feel like a doll.  A toy.  A mouse trapped in the jaws of a great beast.

"Just for me, aren't you?"  He raked teeth and stubble along your cheek.  "I need one more."

"No, I c--can't.  Not again."

You were boneless now, even more pliable under his strength.  The hand at your neck trailed lower, and your head rolled back against his shoulder without its support.

"Can't?  Of course, you can.  I've got you."

It didn't stop, only paused to cup your breast.  There was a primal hitch in his breath as he admired the way he could cover it all.  A stiff, darkened peak notched between his knuckles as he gave it a squeeze.

So small and yet he looked at it like it gave him purpose.

He was big enough to swallow the moon.  Eclipse the sun.  Envelope you into darkness.  Nothing but the stars bursting behind your eyelids as his palm slunk lower.

As stealthily as an avalanche of rocks and sand.  Abrading and disrupting everything in its path until it settled down to the core of you.

"Please."  You whispered, whimpered, on some foreign tongue that felt too big, to thick, to be yours. 

It's because he was in your mouth.  Lips against yours.  Skin on your skin.  Body against yours from behind.

You felt the root of him buldge on the other side of layers of fabric.  Yours and his.  You weren't even naked.  Military issued canvas and cotton stood between you.

But he still had his hands.  His fingers.  His tongue.

The grip you had on the sink felt strong enough to leave marks.  Dents.  Tiny little divots like prints in the snow.

"Open up, darling.  If you ever hope to fit the real thing, you still need some practice."

He found you wet, a small accommodation as you muttered a silent thanks to your nature.  Your heart desired him, and your body did its best to oblige.

"I want it.  Let me feel it." 

"Next time, love.  Show me how good you can be."

His long, thick fingers disappeared three at a time, to the gnarled and swollen knuckles before your hazy eyes in the mirror. 

The cry that slipped from your lips would wake up the others if you weren't careful.  The reverant moan from his could conjure magic.  Gods and monsters.  Things best let lie dormant.

He liked it like this.  Where you both could see in the stark, fluorescent reflection.  The dark hair of his hand reemerging from your depths silky and dripping with slick.

It was the barrier that left you both satisfied as he circled those same fingers and curled them inside, tormenting your most vulnerable weakness.  The heart of you.

He felt on top of the world.  And you were his puppet on a string.  Brought to life.

[whump-since-2010]

Puppet Whumpee - Failure

Puppet scowled, eyes darting around the room as he fingered the trigger of his rifle. "Why did you call me here?"

"It's Ma'am." A soft voice slithered across the room as the lock clicked, and he whirled around. "Why did you call me here, Ma'am."

Puppet's grip tightened on the front end of his rifle, knuckles turning white as his trigger finger stiffened. His eyes widened as the woman before him melted from the shadows. Beautiful as ever, at least two inches taller than him, elegant hair the color of char twisted back into some intricate shape he couldn't quite make out in the dim room, her skirt hiding all but the sharp points of her navy heels, studded with some gemstone he'd never learned the name of. Diamonds he suspected.

She strode up to him, with the confidence of a woman who couldn't die, until the muzzle of the gun was pressed right to her chest. "Go on, my little puppet. Pull the trigger. I know you won't. You don't have the guts."

He willed his hand to move, even the slightest twitch, to pull the trigger and turn his Mistress' office red. But he knew he couldn't. Even as his mind screamed at himself to do it, to kill her, to end all of this. She owned him. She controlled his every thought. He belonged to her. No matter what he did, he would always be her pet, her tool. He was worthless. He had no idea what to do with himself without her anyway.

She shoved the weapon toward the floor, and stalked past him, the tail end of her skirt brushing he toe of his boot as she swirled behind the rich Mahogany desk and slid into her seat. Her eyes met him a deadly glint in her glare. "So, Puppet. What's this I hear about your last mission? I specifically ordered you: The diamond district, Erin Cardinal, a bullet through the skull. So why is he still breathing?"

"There was hardly a clear shot!" Puppet huffed in annoyance, his first hand flying above his head in furious exhasperation, "My vantage point was occupied, I couldn't get to my guns! I wasn't caught. It hardly matters anyhow! There is always tonight!"

"That's no excuse, Puppet. I thought I taught you better than that. If anyone occupies your vantage point, you have already failed. If anyone occupies your vantage point, you remove them. Mess, or not."

"Yeah, well, what am I supposed to do now, ma'am? According to you, I already fucked it up. There's not a lot I can do now, is there?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"No. There isn't." Whumper rose to her feet and before Puppet knew it, she stood less than a foot from him, her right hand lifted to his jaw, icy fingers brushing the thin stubble marking his chin. Her cold skin froze his entire body, and he barely noticing as she pried his gun from his hands and slipped her delicate hands over his shoulders. Her voice whispered death into his skin as he smelled the mint on her lips, and suffocated under the earth in her eyes. "You've failed me."

He shook his head, trying to knock some sense into himself as she continued with her next order.

"You will come with me."

He scowled, barking a hoarse laugh as she pulled away from him, expectant gaze trailing his every movement. "You'd have to break every bone in my body before I go anywhere with you!"

"That can be arranged, dear." She smiled cooly, raising her left hand, and Puppet flinched. "I've allowed you to get far too comfortable already. I can see that now. Your insolence is becoming tiring."

Puppet narrowed his eyes, balling his hands into fists once he spotted the rifle she'd leaned against the desk, but two black figures grabbed his wrists before he could move to grab her, and a third jammed a bag over his head as he screamed curses, the familiar sweet stench washing over him before his vision swirled into darkness and he crumpled.

Only one thought remained as he slipped out of consciousness. Fuck, not again.

[rolfedewolfefan16]

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

VILLAIN ROLFE AU OFFICIAL STORY

Chapter 2: Rolfe was angry. Like really angry. He couldn’t believe that his own mother couldn’t remember him. He couldn’t believe his brother didn’t appreciate his services. He couldn’t believe he was homeless. And now, without his puppets, he couldn’t do anything to gain some quick cash. The only money he had was a lonesome 10 dollar bill he stuffed in his pocket. Night arrived shortly after and that was the coldest, hungriest night Rolfe has ever spent. The wolf barely slept, he just huddled himself in a corner of a dark alley, thinking back of what happened that day. What if he did things differently? What if he never went to that club? What if he never saw that puppeteer in the first place? These thoughts circled his head until he finally drifted to sleep. He awoke to a hand shaking his shoulder. Rolfe saw a silhouette of a plump man, his eyes blinded by the morning sun.

“Are you okay?” the man asked, in a heavy Jersey accent. Rolfe rubbed his eyes and yawned.

“Not really,” Rolfe muttered. 

“I’m really hungry, and cold and my bladder is killing me!” Rolfe mentioned. The man shook his head and grabbed Rolfe by his paw. 

“Well I own the restaurant by this alley. You can use the bathroom there and I can cook you something to eat. On the house,” The man said, with a wholesome smile. He wore a red flannel with grey tech pants and a white apron. He had some stubble on chucky chin and a head of short, curly,  black hair.

“Thank you,” Rolfe said, standing up. Rolfe towered over the plump man as he followed from behind….

Rolfe got out of the bathroom and saw the plump man greasing a pan with butter. Rolfe took a seat at a table near the big glass windows with acrylic writing. He took a glimpse at the busy streets of Kansas City, cars and officers every which way. He spotted a tall woman with a short pink dress and a ridiculous hat walk by, walking her small, stubby bull dog. Then he spotted some pigeons pecking at a cardboard boat tray smothered in bits of leftover food and sauces. For a moment, there was silence. Rolfe felt as if this horrible pounding he had heard for so long had finally gone away. The silence was broken by the plump man’s voice.

“So do you usually sleep in the back of people’s alleys or is that just a preference?” The man asked. Rolfe chuckled.

“No, my ideal place to sleep is in a bed, with a roof over my head. But sadly I couldn’t manage to find one last night,” he said, his voice slowly becoming more melancholy as he spoke. 

“Well, what the hell happened, son?” The man asked. Rolfe led out a sigh as he fiddled with his claws.

“I got kicked out of my home last night. My mom became an addict and my brother couldn’t bear the responsibility anymore, so…” Rolfe said, his ears drooping.

“Well do you mind me asking, how old are you? Surely you're old enough to take care of yourself?” The man said, handing Rolfe a cup of coffee.

“I just turned 22 this year. And I’m sure I’m old enough to take care of myself but you see, I don’t know a thing about paying bills or investing or getting a job or any of that adult stuff,” Rolfe responded, taking the cup of coffee and taking a sip.

“How come?” The man asked, returning to the kitchen.

“I never learned. My mother never taught me and my brother was always out working,” Rolfe said. 

“Jeepers. Well I suggest you find a job first. That shouldn’t be too hard considering how many open spots there are nowadays,” The man said, dipping a piece of bread into some batter and plopping it into a hot pan.

“That’s the thing though! I did have a job…before so that is. I was a ventriloquist. But my mother and brother kept every penny I owned and they tore all my puppets apart!” Rolfe complained.

“You know if you're into that kind of stuff I heard they’re hiring a band member at this new location. They call it “ShowBiz Pizza Place” starring a band of misfits who call themselves “The Rock-afire Explosion” The man said, handing Rolfe the poster. Rolfe stared at the ad for a while.

“Why would I want to join a band? I don’t know a thing about music,” Rolfe admitted. The man chuckled. 

“Son, it's show business. It can mean anything in the entertainment field! Dancing, singing, acting, even ventriloquism,” The man replied. Rolfe was now more than convinced. 

“I’ll say that works! But I don’t have a puppet!? And I can’t possibly go make one now! It takes days. Not to mention money,” Rolfe caviled. The plump man placed a heaping plate of french toast, sunny side-up eggs, bacon strips and fat pineapple sausage in front of him. 

“I don’t see that as a problem. All you need to do is audition. Who says you need a puppet for the act? Plus you can change your voice by range right? Not a lot of people can do that, son,"said the man, handing Rolfe a fork. Rolfe jabbed the fork into sausage and dipped it in the egg yolks before taking a giant bite.

“I guess so,” he said through a mouthful of food. The man sat down with him.

“Why don’t we do this? You help me wash the mountain of dishes I have in the back, And I’ll pay you a good 50,” The man suggested. Rolfe’s eyes lit up, he soon remembered his manners.

“Oh no, that’s far too much,” he said.

“I insist! Trust me it's a lot! Plus, you should have enough to make yourself a puppet for the audition if you really want it that badly,” The man said. Rolfe smiled as he took a forkful of french toast. 

“Thank you sir,” Rolfe said.

“You may address me as, Marty,” The man winked. After breakfast, Rolfe got to work, putting an apron and yellow rubber gloves on. Marty wasn’t kidding. The pile of dishes was huge, stacking up high inches from the ceiling vent. As sponge met dish, Rolfe began to daydream of his future life. He figured if he could pass the audition he too could be just as famous as his father. Just think, Rolfe DeWolfe the greatest entertainer the world has ever seen! Millions would line up outside the door just to see his acts and hear his voice. Rolfe knew he could sing quite decently. He figured his voice suited jazz and disco much more than pop or rock or whatever it was the band might play. That’s why he liked it so much. Rolfe never dared sing or perform out in public unless he was sure his family wasn’t around. However due to his impressive range, Rolfe was sure he could manage any challenge the band might give him. That’s why he was confident he would succeed.

“You know, Marty?” Rolfe spoke out loud, trying to talk over the radio.

“I’m gonna be famous one day! And the whole world’s gonna know my name! Just you wait!” Rolfe laughed. Marty chuckled.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you on the television. Why don’t you show me what you got and I’ll be the judge of that,” Marty offered. Rolfe gave him a grin and cleared his throat.

“Give me a second-” he said. He heard the radio playing a familiar voice. Frank Sinatra! Perfect! 

“Come fly with me! Let’s fly, let’s fly away! If you can use some exotic booze, there’s a bar in far Bombay. Come on and fly with me, let’s fly, let’s fly away!” Rolfe sang. His mouth didn’t move, not once. Marty clapped, giving whistles and shouts.

“Woah! I tell ya kid, that’s mighty impressive! You're going to land the role for sure!” Marty cheered. Rolfe went back to washing dishes.

“I sure hope so,” he smiled sheepishly….. After a little while of silence, Rolfe spoke. 

“So Marty, do you have any big dreams?” Rolfe asked. Marty placed his broom down and nodded.

“This restaurant of mine, see it’s family owned…was family owned. I wanted to carry on the tradition but after my divorce things haven’t been easy. And now business is slow. My only dream is for business to be booming again. For this restaurant to never be forgotten,” Marty explained. Rolfe felt bad. He had no idea what Marty had gone through. Yet again, not a single person came into the restaurant during his stay. Perhaps it was best if Rolfe just kept quiet for the remainder of the time…

Finally, for what felt like forever, Rolfe finished his dish duty and stood by the front door waiting for Marty.

“Here ya go, kid,” Marty said, handing Rolfe the 50 dollar bill, as promised and a slice of cherry pie in a paper bag.

“Take care of yourself. And good luck,"he told him. Rolfe couldn’t help but cry a little. He never felt this wholesome affection, not even in his own home. Rolfe gave Marty a tight hug.

“I won’t forget this. I swear, once I’m famous I’ll make sure to promote you!” Rolfe said. 

“Thanks, son. Goodbye, now,” Marty waved. Rolfe gave him one last hug before walking out the door, bag and poster in hand. That day Rolfe made himself a promise. Money was luxury and he was going to make sure he got a lot of it! Rolfe was going to make his dreams come true one way or another. He just hoped he wasn’t too late…

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wasted 1

Warnings: drug dealing/use, violence, noncon, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

Part of The Club AU

The lights smear in your vision, music pulsing through your body, senses both dulled and magnified by the alcohol. You sway and rock to the rhythm, like a puppet dancing on unseen strings. You let the night guide you, shrugging off the stress as you let drunken ambivalence take over.

You drain the last of your vodka and tap the plastic cup. You signal to Faye and Heidi that you need a refill, offering to get them one in another gesture. Heida shakes her head, showing her unfinished cooler and Faye gives an eager nod. You wink and whirl away, weaving between the bodies that crowd you.

You leave your empty cup on a random table and hope down the single step from the dance floor. You cross over to the glowing bar and sidle up between two other patrons as you wave to the bartender. It’s busy and the voices of those clustered around the counter nearly overwhelm the bassy music.

You're a bit unsteady, a bit buzzed. You feel good and you want to hold onto that. Forget the world, burn it all.

As you try to get the attention of the burly blonde mixing drinks behind the bar, you’re caught in the crush of the impatient club goers. A man bulls in next to you, keeping his back to you as he forces you close to the stool on your other side. What a dick. Totally oblivious.

You stare at the wide shoulders that stretch the dark fabric of a bomber jacket beneath his short ponytail. Typical.

“Hey, what can I get you?” The bartender taps your arm, still floating above you, forgotten.

“Oh, uh, vodka cran and er… gin and soda,” you holler above the raucous noise.

The man goes to work and you fish around in your wallet for a bill. You should really not be spending all your money like this. You look up and watch him pour the drinks, blond strands coming loose from his low bun. His button-up is undone to the middle of his chest. He must get killer tips. Hmm, bartending might be a good idea for a new gig.

The man beside you shifts on his heel, further smothering you. You keep your arm firm until your elbow jabs in his back. You wish he’d get the fucking hint. Did he just come over here to have a fucking conversation? Go somewhere else.

You pay for the drinks and leave a tip. The blond man grins at you. He’s pretty damn cute but a bit too busy for your liking. You grab the cups and slowly raise them over the lip of the bar. The man to your right turns and his arm hits yours, the vodka exploding across your front. You look down at your shimmery dress and gasp, a spritz of cold liquid up your neck.

“What the hell, dude? Why don’t you watch where you’re fucking going?” You shout and drop the empty cup on the bar, “FUCK!” 

The guy looks at you and scowls. He wipes a spray of alcohol from his sleeve as if you did it on purpose. What the hell is his problem?

“You owe me a drink, jackass," you sneer at the stranger.

His dark hair is drawn back from his face, a scruff of stubble along his chiseled jaw, and bright blue eyes. He's not half-bad on the eyes, if not a total asshole.

“Whatever,” he waves you off as he steps away from the bar.

What? He didn’t even fucking order anything and now you’re covered in wasted vodka! You shake your head and turn back to the bar, once more waving for attention.

“Napkins?” You call out.

It takes a few tries before the bartender gets back to you. He approaches and reaches under the bar, handing over a stack of napkins.

“Everything okay?” He calls over as he works on uncapping a bottle.

“Some guy ran into me,” you roll your eyes.

“Shit, let me make you a new one. No charge.”

“No, it’s fine–”

“No big deal, busy night,” he insists before spinning to grab some smirnoff and some juice.

With your new drink in hand, you carefully back away. You look around before you turn, overly aware of every move and the chaos all around. Maybe you shouldn’t have another drink. Shit is getting real wild.

You make your way back up to the dance floor, balancing your drinks with a considerable effort. Your focus breaks only as you approach Faye and Heidi, handing over the gin before greedily sipping your vodka. Fuck your job and fuck that dude at the bar.

You knock back almost half the drink in a single gulp and fall back into the beat thrumming from the speakers. You spin with your cup held high, sipping as you bop and swing your hips. Your boss ruined your day but no one is going to ruin your night.

[sailing-on-a-puddle]

@tracybirds answered an ask for me where she mentioned the sets and details in TAG, and a couple of weeks ago @womble1 was getting excited about puppet stubble. And it got me thinking how much I love details in a show, either TOS or TAG. People didn't have to think of these things, or take the time to do them, but they did. Take this innocent little shot here from Security Hazard:

I get a bit feral that Virgil has perched his bum on a railing. Not only because I get a bit excited about Virgil looking pretty and David Holliday's voice, but somebody took the time to make the puppet human and make him perch on a railing. Let's ignore that that's probably the balcony safety railing.

I think details make the difference between a good show you watch once, and something you watch again and again.

[pompom-prince]

Some of my heartless physical appearance headcanons

Heartless-

- Blood pooling at fingertips and feet

- Bruises easily

- Autopsy scars

Alchemy-

- Lots of moles and freckles

- Black roots, even though theyre a shapeshifter and could just shapeshift the roots away

Flint-

- Slight stubble

- Scar on lip from a fight he got in as a kid where he busted his lip open so bad it had to be stitched up (inspired by my brother except my brother got the injury from a bike accident)

Eira-

- Albino

- Glass eye

- wears compression gloves because of hand tremors (Has to do with his ice magic, makes him shiver all the time)

Doppel-

- Needs glasses but doesn’t wear them

- Bandana has some burn holes and rips

Glass-

- Longer hair than Doppel

- Cracks around eyes

- puppet joints

River-

- ties strings on her fingers to remember stuff

- really short nails, keeps them that way to stop herself from biting them.

[adonisbeloveds]

Is it possible if there could be a Wally x reader writing request where the reader is a mermaid that scavenges for food until Wally stubbles onto them? They can speak and communicate through writing but chooses not to because they don’t trust anyone. They also eat puppets and intended to lure Wally in but soon discards that idea and gets closer to him. He has to keep their identity/existence a secret though.

Wally Darling with a merfolk reader

-Reader: They/them + no gender implied -He/him for Wally

Requested: No/Yes

Warnings: None Disclamer: Characters personality, looks, ect may be different from canon due to either hc or author has just forgotten.

A/N: oooo! This one is certainly new! I hope you like it, I really tried my best and had fun with this one because of the new and unique idea but I hope you like it!

-🍎 You where looking around for food when you found out that you ate all the leftovers of the puppets, so you decided to go up to find other food when you heard someone humming beautiful dreamer, confused you slowly popped the top half of your head out of the water to see a...very short puppet painting something. -🍎 You were slightly confused but quickly got rid of that confusion and started making your plan to lure your new food in, you prefered not to talk to the puppet so that was out of the question. -🍎 After sometime of going through your options you figured you would get the trust of the puppet than lure it into your trap, nodding to yourself you quickly swam over to the painting puppet. You made it to the shore and made a splashing sound to get the puppets attention, the puppet perked up at the sound and turned around when they saw you, "oh! hello new friend! you look quite different from anyone I have seen" the puppet said as they turned around, placing the painting supplies down and going closer to you and sitting down infront of you, they looked like they were in thought when they perked up "oh! your one of those merfolk from franks books aren't you?" they asked and you nodded "well my name is Wally, Wally Darling! nice to meet you new friend" After sometime goes past with you talking to Wally you learned that he lives in a neighbourhood with other puppets and lives in a live house called Home? you were slightly confused but didn't mention anything with the stare that he sometimes gave you when he stopped talking, you also learnt his favourite food was apples and all the names of his friends, you slowly but surely got comfortable with Wally and forgot about ever wanted to eat him. "Oh! you should come back with me to Home and the others! everyone would love to have a new friend and neighbour!" Wally said smiling and staring at you, as soon as he ended his sentance you quickly shook your head, even though you did feel comforable and slightly trusted Wally you were Not comfortable with being around others, although Wally was sad that you didn't want to come back with him he respected your wishes and promised you that he will come back and that he will keep your secret!

[clawdee]

I finally had a actual Pedro dream (and not a character).

I don't know why he was there but I had to go to my nieces class. One of the teachers called in and she was having a fit, and they couldn't get a hold of my sibling and I was the other emergency contact.

But anyway I start getting ready to go and Pedro shows up to walk with me over there and he holds my hand and he interlocks our fingers (they were so meaty).

But we get to the school but it's not really a school it's like a little classroom but it's like at a studio, like a film studio? I don't know dreams are weird you guys.

So we sit down on the fucking floor I don't know why, and I sit between his legs and lean against his chest, and he just has his legs on either side of me bracketing me in 🥰🥰🥰 but he was definitely a little older there's a little more wrinkles and sitting on the floor definitely hurt him, but he still sat with me for a good long while like that and we talked, shoes came off for some reason and I noticed we were matching grippy socks??? Lmao

And people were there with puppets for some reason?

Oh God now I remember he showed up as I was going through my siblings house, and it was super decked out and things about the kids like all their achievements, pictures, etc. (but I still don't know why he was there and why he came with me but I'm cool with everything that happened)

But it was just really nice and I swear I felt him in that weird dream way. I felt the solidness of him when I leaned back, of our fingers interlocking, and then when I kissed his stubbly cheek and told him to get off the fucking ground because it was hurting his back.

[curioussubjects]

Feedback Fest 2024

Since everything I've read for the past 1.5 years has been pilots, all 10 of the fics here are Kara/Lee from Battlestar Galactica. I'm only listing one fic per author, so be sure to check individual author pages if you liked their style.

(go here over on @transformativeworks for more info!)

1. In the Whole World by pennyante (M, ~80K, WIP)

Summary:

The Cylons aren't quite human, and the humans haven't quite forgiven them. Political stability is less certain than ever now that the war is over: Lee Adama finds himself up for re-election, where being defeated will mean a Gemenese theocracy puppeteered by Leoben Conoy. Meanwhile, Kara Thrace has nothing but questions about her death and destiny. The only answers available come in the form of the vision of a temple, and from her hybrid/comatose husband's cryptic ramblings about a sister artifact to the Arrow of Apollo.

There's violence in the air. Civil war looms. Can Lee and Kara save each other, and keep the fledgling colony whole?

Thoughts: The best season 4 fix-it, lives in my head rent free, rewired my brain, etc. Also I've read it, like, 3 times (and I cried).

2. We're Not Friends by ninety6tears (M, ~25K)

Summary:

When two soldiers in the middle of a war can't seem to like each other, baptism by fire is apparently the natural solution. (AU in which Kara never knew Zak and first meets Lee after the fall of the colonies.)

Thoughts: I love a different first meeting AU, and this one takes pilots on a fun rivals to lovers spin that works surprisingly well. They're still very unwell about each other, though, make no mistake.

3. Artemis Rising by clairza (M, ~11K)

Summary:

The next morning Lee makes a few phone calls, and when everything has been organized and his credit card has been used for the first time in three months, and he’s had the pleasure of telling his mother that no, he has plans this week, he tracks Kara down in the quad. 

She's lying on her stomach poking sticks upright in the grass. He sits down beside her, and he can see the tension in her shoulders.

“So,” he says casually, and he’s very proud of the way his voice doesn’t shake at all. “I hear the Aegean Peninsula is nice this time of year.”

“It probably is.”

“I’ve booked a unit.”

“Where are you going with this, Lee?” Thoughts: I have a huge soft spot for fluffy academy pilots and this fic absolutely delivers. Happy baby pilots go to the beach five stars no notes.

4. An Arranged Meeting by lark_ral (E, ~11K)

Summary: Even outside of wartime, you might be surprised by the pressures our service men and women are under. The most effective among them either have, or need a release valve. Thoughts: Lee and Kara are scene partners for years, then the Cylons come. Somehow less messy than the show, but still delicious.

5. Rota by leda13 (E, ~2K)

Summary: The days are arbitrary, in space. Bereft of the guide of a planet's rotation around the sun, they live in slices of time, stealing as many as they can. Thoughts: Emotional support curtain fic of pilots sneaking around.

6. Sufficient to the Day by rachelindeed (T, ~1.5K)

Summary: At the sound of Lee’s voice, she feels her stomach twist and drop. Reluctantly, she opens her eyes and sees him come to a stop an arm’s length away, settling one elbow onto the corner of the bleacher behind her. His jacket is unbuttoned, his hair mussed, jaw ghosted with stubble, and the frakking sun is rising behind him. The look on his face is casual and fond, but he breathes as if he’s been running. Thoughts: Mandatory UB morning after fix-it...sort of. I really like this one because all I wanted was for Lee to get to Kara first. Or for him to call her bluff. This fic is both. It's not a showdown on main street like I enjoy joking about, but it's quiet and it's them (so it's better!).

7. Contrecoup by Fahye (T, ~2.2K)

Summary:

Contrecoup (n): A concussion or shock produced by a blow or other injury, in a part or region opposite to that at which the blow is received, often causing rupture or disorganisation of the parts affected. (One story told right-way-up, the other told upside-down, but both in the same narrative.)

We begin at a single point in time. The present goes forwards. The past goes backwards.

The story is AU-within-canon and set after episode 1x11, "Colonial Day."

Thoughts: I can't say too much because I don't want to spoil the fic. So: a bit angsty, a lot sweet, with a side of Kara's amazing problem-solving skills.

8. Lee's Emo Coffeehouse by haycorn (M, ~2.9K)

Summary: Lee has a bar, and sometimes Kara makes his life more interesting. Thoughts: I love cute modern AUs in general, and I love them even more when there's pining involved. There's not nearly enough of this type of fic for pilots, either! Many thanks to the author for their service. Would read 100K of this 'verse.

9. Breathing Room by callmeonetrack (M, ~12K)

Summary: Kara and Lee adjust to their new, very separate lives on the Pegasus. Badly.

Thoughts: My favorite Pegasus fic! Being on the Pegasus sucks, but then Lee and Kara find each other and things get better. Chef's kiss, peak pilots.

10. And I Feel Fine by hazellazer (M, ~2.4K)

Summary:

“That was… that… why?”

Her hands stay firmly on his face, thumb brushing over his cheek. “I was just thinking—”

Cutting her off, he smirks. “You think?”

She swats at his arm, hard enough that it might actually bruise. “I thought you were dead, Lee.” Her gaze is harsh on his, voice rasping, before something softens. “And I should’ve done this the second I knew you weren’t.” Thoughts: Season 1, but Lee and Kara are together. It's nice, refreshing, and plain good.

[ultimateloserboy]

im not sure if the cis dhmis nation will take this very well but i just want yall to know that when i said i cant imagine duck as human i kind of lied. i mean i can see him with a little stubble of a mustache cuz he can’t actually grow anything and a full head of curly hair (cuz hes a fuzzy puppet let him stay fuzzy guys) but the hair is also greying btw. also his face is wrinkled from scowling.

thats all pretty fandom wide but what if i said i invision him as a non-dysphoric chubby tboy with huge bonkers along with everything i just said. im sorry to the old man cistwink lovers but i physically cannot imagine him that way. i never could