#scraps galore
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Drew some frens' ocs, please check them out! ^o^
1st: Yorokobi @builderaltwcf1
2nd: Astro @kirbart90
3rd: Falce Knight @chocokeyboard
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dandy's world doodle dump because I'm obsessed
#trashy art#dandys world#dandy's world#dw#dw glisten#dw rodger#dw toodles#reflective detective#glisten the mirror#rodger the magnifying glass#toodles the eight ball#dw astro#astro novalite#dw goob#dw scraps#goob the fluffy craft#scraps the paper craft#craft siblings#dw dandy#dandicus dancifer#dw bobette#bobette the bauble#mistletoe#I think that's the ship name?#rodger x glisten#dandy x bobette#character design#drawpile#tags galore
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Starlights galore moon about to go chase some kids for a horror film:D (done on the @daycarefriendpickup magma^^)
Bonus pic + info on starlights galore:
The starlights galore boys do not have a set music genre for their music as they dabble in multiple generes to reach to a larger audience, however they tend to lean to pop, indie/alternative music
While the starlights galore dca do produce music, they also act in movies from time to time! Moon often makes sure to make sure his coworkers are doing okay after each cut, especially the child actors. Sun also does that but not as often since he isn't needed for horror but he makes up for it by coming along with moon to his recorded sessions and brings snacks and drinks for everyone there.
#fnaf moon#moondrop#sundrop#fnaf sun#fnaf dca#five nights at freddy's security breach#fnaf#security breach#fnaf daycare attendant#art#starlights galore sun#starlights galore moon#gyxtar0.luvsart#scrapped starlights galore
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𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.
FICMAS DAY 3: GIFT-GIVING
bucky barnes x fem!reader
summary: as bucky’s secret santa, you’re determined to give him the best christmas present he’s ever received.
contains: grumpy buck fluff, some angst, idiots who are crushing hard, swearing
word count: 2.4k
a/n: this is a long one i’m apologizing in advance
i am SO SORRY for crickets in the ficmas department the past week, i hit a big brick wall with this and i’ve been so all over the place with my own holiday planning and such that i ended up having to cut the masterlist in half because i knew i couldn’t get it all done. i’m very sorry to anyone who was looking forward to what got scrapped, but i couldn’t bring myself to rush through writing and put out something i don’t believe it my best work.
also, do people even want avengers fix it fics anymore?? i debated between the “everything is fine the team lives at the compound together” vibe and setting this post tfatws, but ultimately decided the former was easier to write. and i think it worked in my favor because this turned out really cute :)
!! divider by @strangergraphics !!
FICMAS MASTERLIST
your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest.
who’s idea was this again? wanda? tony? steve? it didn’t matter anymore. all that mattered right now was that you didn’t pass out in the elevator. a feat that was becoming more and more difficult the closer you got to your destination.
a secret santa is supposed to bring you joy, not near paralyzing anxiety.
at first, you were 100% on board with participating in a gift exchange. as much as you wanted to shower all of your teammates with presents galore, not everyone shared the same sentiment, and thus the idea of a secret santa was proposed.
excitement courses through your veins as you reach your hand into the cheap santa hat tony grabbed from god knows where in storage, with little pieces of paper containing the names of your fellow avengers. you decided to wait until you were back in the privacy of your room to open it up, afraid of any wandering eyes taking a peak. the last thing you wanted was the element of surprise to be stripped away. it was half the fun after all.
as sam pulls the last name, you quietly excuse yourself and all but rush upstairs, too eager to get in the holiday spirit and brainstorm. as soon as the door shuts behind you, you hurriedly reveal the contents of the paper.
if it’s natasha, i can get her a pair of ballet slippers. she’s been mentioning how she wants to start dancing again.
what about bruce? maybe a journal for all his ideas? he always seems to be losing sticky notes in the lab.
a million different ideas swirl around in your head, reminding you just how much joy this time of year brings. to you, there was nothing better than seeing the gleeful looks on people’s faces when they opened their gifts. the corners of your mouth turn up at the memory of your first christmas with the team. how shy and reluctant you were, afraid of going overboard. now, a few years later, you’re completely unabashed in showing just how much you care about them.
your bright smile morphs into a deep frown as you unfold the paper.
bucky barnes.
quite possibly the most difficult person you could’ve chosen.
to be clear, there’s nothing wrong with bucky. he may be a bit grumpy and standoffish, but it’s with good reason and you know it. that also doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to be impossible to try and shop for.
what do you get for the man who seemingly despises anything the modern world has to offer? the same man who you’re 99% sure hates your guts. come to think of it, how did you even pull him? he most definitely wasn’t downstairs 20 minutes ago when everyone scribbled down their names and tossed them in tony’s direction.
it was irrelevant now. you were stuck being his secret santa, and you’d be damned if you didn’t give james buchanan barnes the best christmas gift he’s ever gotten in his century-long lifetime.
the two weeks it took to come up with an idea sure felt like a century. if it wasn’t for the concerning amount of snooping you did, you’d probably be showing up empty handed. thankfully, at almost 1 in the morning on a random tuesday, a lightbulb went off in your brain. you scrambled bright and early the next day to go shopping, and by some lucky form of divine intervention, you acquired the perfect gift.
flash forward to now, and you’re carrying an insanely large box up to bucky’s room. in a blatant stray from what the rest of the team was doing, you decided to give him his present one on one, secluded from everyone else. partly because you were afraid of public embarrassment if he hated it, and partly because you knew bucky wasn’t very fond of being put on display.
you hope he’ll at least be grateful for that.
when the elevator finally chimes, signaling you’ve arrived at the dormitory floor, the box nearly slips from your grasp. not just from how heavy it was, but from the nervous sweat coating your palms.
the hallway is quiet enough to hear a pin drop, save for the faint sound of christmas music playing over the speakers. with careful, calculated steps, you make your way down the length of the corridor, dragging your feet the closer you get to bucky’s room. there’s a small part of you that hopes he’s downstairs in the gym, the kitchen, the backyard, anywhere but here. dropping and dashing wasn’t what you had in mind, but the anxious thumping of your heart was becoming unbearable. you know it will only amplify tenfold if you’re forced to stare into those steel blue eyes of his. the thought alone sends a chill down your spine.
you freeze in place when you hear the sound of a door knob clicking open.
please be wanda’s room, please be wanda’s room.
in front of you, the very last door on the left creaks open, revealing the tall and brooding super soldier whose company you were aiming to avoid.
it’s easy to forget how handsome bucky barnes is when he normally does nothing but grimace in your direction.
you still weren’t used to his new haircut, but it was clear he felt significantly more confident with it. is that a hint of aftershave, or cologne? whatever it was, the scent fit him perfectly; cedarwood with a hint of spice. the green henley he wears fits snugly against his broad frame, emphasizing all the muscles you’ve been caught staring at on more than one occasion. for once, he’s not wearing a scowl, though that changes when he catches sight of you.
surely you must look strange, standing dumbfounded in the middle of the hall with a box covered in santa-printed wrapping paper and a big bow that you can barely hold. right now the floor opening up and swallowing you whole was at the top of your wish list. and st. nick better make it quick.
bucky’s expression shifts from one of disdain to curiosity as he quirks a brow wordlessly. your own knit together in frustration, knowing you now had no choice but to do this exchange face to face.
“need any help?” he questions monotonously. as much as you want to be prideful and reject it, your arms feel like they’re going to fall off any second. he seems to catch your drift despite a verbal response, because in the blink of an eye he’s striding towards you, sweeping the gift from your arms and into his own with ease. you try not to gape at the way his biceps strain against fabric.
you stutter out a “thanks,” as you straighten out your sweater. bucky grunts in return and eyes the package in his hands cautiously. you’re half expecting him to shake it like a child when you catch the tiniest twitch of his upper lip.
it’s the closest thing to a smile he’s ever shown in your presence. something that gives you the courage to actually form a sentence instead of continuing to gawk at him.
here goes nothing.
“this is for you, actually,” you manage to shakily breathe out. bucky halts his observations, a glimmer of surprise briefly dancing across his face.
a beat of silence passes between you. “don’t remember asking for anything," he finally says. it’s still laced with his typical dry sarcasm, but there’s a legitimate amusement in his tone that can’t be missed.
you narrow your eyes at him playfully, feeling a little bit more at ease now that he didn’t completely rebuff you.
“i’m your secret santa, smartass,” you jab with your hands on your hips.
for the first time ever, bucky smirks at you.
“don’t recall asking for that either.”
you throw your hands up in defense, offering him a surprisingly nonchalant shrug. “don’t blame me, i’m pretty sure steve was the one who put your name in.”
“punk,” the man grumbles. he shakes his head, attention turning back to the present in hand once more.
despite his apparent annoyance, you can’t seem to stop yourself from continuing on.
“i know you’re supposed to do this kind of thing with everyone around,” you start off shaky, afraid of upsetting him any more than you may already have. his gaze immediately falls to you upon hearing your voice.
“i also know you’re not a big fan of being the center of attention,” you continue, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans. “figured you’d like this better if it was in private.”
bucky’s features soften. his jaw unclenched, his eyes not so narrow and judgmental. he looks relieved, flattered; a myriad of things you can’t name or place.
“i appreciate that,” he admits, suddenly shy and impish. for a second, he completely forgets about the gift you brought. the simple fact that you were kind enough to consider his feelings, despite how cold he could be to you, makes his heart skip a beat.
you simply nod your head in reply, teetering back and forth on your feet awkwardly trying to decipher your next move.
“you don’t have to open that right now you know.”
he sets the box down on the floor next to his door. “kinda defeats the purpose don’t you think?”
you shrug. “whatever you’re comfortable with. doesn’t matter what you’re “supposed to do.””
why did you care so much about his comfort level? he hardly showed any concern for yours. the notion consumes his thoughts, prohibiting him from offering anything except a nod of acknowledgement.
that awkward silence comes once again, signaling maybe you’ve overstayed your welcome, or that the moment of peace is over. you check your watch in hopes that father time was ending this exchange for you.
just your luck, he’s right on schedule.
“i uh, better get downstairs,” you announce, pointing your thumb in the direction of the elevator. “don’t wanna miss thor forcing everyone to do christmas karaoke.”
a noise akin to laughter snorts out of bucky’s nose, evoking a delightful warmth in your chest. it was different than all the other times you’ve been flustered in the presence of the super soldier. this was less about intimidation and more about…camaraderie. now wondering if maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as you thought.
it’s exactly what you need to reignite your holiday cheer and shed any remaining worries.
before you can second guess, you turn on your heels, closing the gap between your bodies. wrapping a hand around his arm, his metal arm, and offering a gentle caress, the sincerity in your words is clear as day.
“merry christmas buck.”
your touch burns straight through vibranium all the way to his chest. across his entire body, igniting every cell ablaze. a fire consuming him in ways unimaginable.
and yet. he enjoyed the burn.
as you pull away, much to his dismay, the tips of his fingers brush against the inside of your wrist. goosebumps errupt on your skin, from the cool metal, or that fact that bucky was so pretty this close, only time would tell.
“you too,” he murmurs with a faint grin. the soft crinkles by his eyes are likely going to be the subject of your daydreams for the next week.
you flash him a smile over your shoulder before turning down the hall and averting his gaze, not wanting him to see just how much you were blushing.
while unbeknownst to you, bucky was now a very bright shade of red.
he waits until he can hear the elevator doors close before slipping back into his room and very carefully unwrapping the box. there’s a nervousness in his stomach that’s unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. as the bare brown packaging becomes exposed, he begins ripping back the numerous layers of packing tape. you really took your time on this, he thinks to himself.
that funny feeling only amplifies when he sees the contents of the box.
a record player, a very expensive looking one at that, sits inside with another three wrapped items that he concludes are vinyls, judging from their flatness. on top of it all, there was a small note shrouded in luxe stationary. bucky’s heart stutters when he sees his name scribbled delicately in your handwriting.
his fingers falter briefly before he digs into the envelope.
i know this isn’t like the ones from the 40s, but it’s the closest thing i could find. also got a few of your favorite records, and one i think you’ll like too. don’t forget i have quite a collection of my own in case you ever want to try something new.
merry christmas ♡
bucky unceremoniously plops down on the edge of his bed. the normally stiff feeling mattress now mirrored a sea of clouds and feathers. he’d gladly sink into the abyss of softness, if it meant pumping the brakes on his thundering heartbeat.
from the moment he met you, bucky knew he was in trouble.
you had an aura about you that was magnetic, always drawing people in and bathing them in your light. your unconditional kindness and consideration, hell, even your mere presence in a room seemed to liven it up entirely. it was a hypnotizing, almost dangerous thing for the man, and if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was to push people away. for their sake, and his. bucky was certain that once he started keeping his distance, that you’d eventually give up in trying to crack his tough outer shell, or that the silly feelings he had would disappear.
but right now, as he’s staring at your handwriting and rubbing his thumb repeatedly over that little heart, he knows it was all in vain.
later that night, he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the familiar croon of it’s been a long, long time wafting from his present. he tries to focus on the beauty of the song, or the lights he can see from his window twinkling out on the lawn, but it’s nearly impossible. you’re the subject of all his thoughts. have been since the moment he saw you standing out in the hall. from the scent of your perfume to the little intricacies of your penmanship. the thing that’s plaguing him the most, however, is your hand on his arm.
bucky’s real arm had been gone for over half a century, having stopped experiencing phantom limb syndrome ages ago. yet somehow he felt it there, clear as day. the same tactile sensations on his flesh, right arm, in the metal prosthetic of his left. an electric shock that he’s never recognized before, and that he wouldn’t be opposed to feeling again.
tomorrow, he plans to thank steve for mischievously adding his name into the lottery.
and to ask you about your record collection.
thanks for reading! <3
tag list: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals
!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!
#retrosabers#sid writes shit#ficmas#ficmas 2024#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes#the falcon and the winter soldier#sebastian stan
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The tags contain spoilers
Absolute tag meltdown. This. I...
The NDA as ladders!
Yuma: step stool. He is perfect to step on without handling his side bars. You can stand on and rely on the man, but not not for higher tasks. Also short and stubby.
Yakou: A rickety wooden straight ladder. Do I need to say more? He can get knocked over by a strong gust of wind.
Halara: Platform ladder. Self-supporting, stable, and reliable. Similar to a step ladder but with a platform at the top. Folds into any situation well. Useful in the workplace. Flawless design.
Desuhiko: Multipurpose ladder. It's the ditto of the ladder world.
Fubuki: Telescoping ladder. She can be extended in a multitude of ways, but must always lean against a wall of support. She can extend herself for any adventure, and overdos it at times. Overcompensates for the commonly mundane. This one is a bit of a stretch, but luckily we have a telescoping ladder to extend across that gap!
Vivia: Folding ladder. Look it up, the ladder looks like his back posture. Tell me he doesn't look like a folding ladder I DARE you.
.
#The WDO recruiting quirky superpower ladders#I had to think about a ladder doing postcognition#imagine Yuma having to hobble over to touch feet#Or a spirit ladder halfway through a wall#Thinking about Desuhiko shapeshifting ladder#How does a ladder eat another ladder? can you fit a ladder into a bun?? Is scrap metal what they eat???#I can imagine Makoto getting a extension ladder trans surgery and losing their extensions at the big reveal#Wait. Do ladders have gender??#How does a ladder perform gender?? What makes Halara neither if ladder races were assigned to certain genders? Or maybe is it the coloring?#could you even call them races? It implies races work fundamentally differently with different uses.#wait how does a ladder sword fight#The mystery phantom designs are just. Gay ladders?#How does a ladder get poisoned.#Wouldn't bullets be incredibly ineffective?#What about syringes?#fuck it#the ladders are like snails. They move into an outer shell from birth and their insides are fleshy with blood vessels galore#how does a ladder give birth.#mdarc#Nocturnal Detective Agency#halara nightmare#yakou furio#vivia twilight#yuma kokohead#desuhiko thunderbolt#fubuki clockford#rain code#master detective archives: rain code#rain code shitpost
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laughter and smiles ᢉ𐭩
how the hoo boys make you smile (characters: percy , leo , jason , and frank )
a/n- it’s been a while since i read the books. don’t judge too hard.
when you’re having a rough day, percy is the first to notice. while most of the time he’s an oblivious bum, the slightest hint of a frown doesn’t go unnoticed by percy. instead of immediately prying, he’s sneaking of to the beach to prepare a cheesy date. rose petals will be scattered in a heart, with candles galore and a cozy blanket laid perfectly so you can cuddle and watch the sunset together. it looks like something straight out of a rom-com, and you couldn’t be happier. even though he sacrificed his dessert to the demeter children for the roses and promised to leave the apollo kids alone for the candles, it’s worth it to see your sickeningly sweet smile.
when you’re dating leo, there isn’t a moment you aren’t laughing till your stomach hurts. he’s always cracking a joke to make you smile, no matter how serious the situation is. you could be full on crying, and between his comforting words he’ll slip in a lighthearted quip that makes you giggle between sobs. if he isn’t throwing jokes around, he’s making you little trinkets out of scrap metal as gifts. flowers, hearts, and even a mini-festus sit on your nightstand, proudly displayed. they’re a reminder of how much your totally awesome boyfriend cares about you, so naturally, seeing them makes you smile.
jason is extremely good with kids, specifically your relatives. there’s a lot of things about him that make you smile, like his silly glasses or how much he cares, but nothing tops how he acts around kids. it started when you asked him to babysit a little demigod at camp, since you were busy and the baby was too young to be by themselves. when you came back, you saw him asleep in a rocking chair, the kid wrapped up in his arms, also snoozing. you weren’t hesitant to ask him to watch the child again a week later. when you returned this time, jason’s large frame was stuffed into tiny chair, sitting next to them. he had a pink feather boa around his neck, and was sipping out of a teeny tea cup, while the little girl did the same. the sight of his tall and masculine figure dressed elegantly in pink definitely made you grin ear to ear.
frank absolutely adores buying you endless amounts of stuffed animals. elephants, seals, weasels, and countless other creatures sit pretty on your sheets. he likes to surprise you with them, too. you’re having a bad day? boom. new manatee stuffed animal laying on your bed for when you go to sleep. he traveled outside of camp recently? boom. awesome new fluffy souvenir. they all sleep on the bed too, obviously. can’t have one feeling left out. frank loves the way your eyes light up and you start thinking of names the moment he gives you one.
#leo valdez x reader#leo valdez x y/n#leo valdez x you#leo valdez drabble#leo valdez#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo hoo toa#pjo fandom#pjo fanfic#heroes of olympus#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson x you#percy jackson x y/n#jason grace#jason grace pjo#leo valdez imagine#leo valdez pjo#jason grace x reader#jason grace x you#jason grace x y/n#drabble#pjo imagine#frank zhang#frank zhang x reader#frank zhang x you
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I love how simplistic the clothing is in Advent Children compared to those in Rebirth. I know it's not what they intended (Rebirth is a fairly new game and AC Movie was back in the 2000's). But I like to think that characters had to improvise with their clothes because Shinra, who was the major supplier for everything, was gone after Meteorfall. Plus with Midgar down and in the middle of a wasteland, they had to scramble for resources, so any fabric had to be salvaged.
Here's some side-to-side references of Remake/Rebirth (RR) Clothing vs. Advent Children (AC) Clothing:
[Rufus Shinra]
The buttons. The details. The extra fabric. The belts. And then look how more simple AC is. Sure he has a coat on top of three shirts, but his RR suit looks so extra and customized to fit him whilst his AC suit looks like something he scrounged up in his remaining closet. He lost all of his extra belts. His undershirts look like they’re made out of cheap cotton too. His coat in particular looks short on the sleeves and too loose on his form.
[Turks: Rude, Reno, Tseng, & Elena]
(Top right photo from Advent Children)
Classic expensive suits for RR. Simple suits for AC. Look at those clean looks and small suit details for RR (ex. Rude has a patterned tie and Elena’s collar has a small button/pin on her collar). The difference is apparent with Reno, who has a fancy undershirt in Remake vs his simple cotton undershirt in AC. And if you zoom in on the AC photo, the coats have zippers!!! The AC coats also look loose compared to their form fitting coats in RR.
[Cloud Strife]
AC!Cloud has more fabric than in RR. But AC lacks the details that RR has. For example, RR has leather gloves with metal encased on the wrist and fingers. His shoulder pad looks forged with giant metal screws as well. But AC mostly has leather and little to no metal except for its strap buckles and wolf insignia (And it's likely that Cloud made those wolf symbols himself). Although, he does have major upgrades (read: his sword and motorcycle; both things he probably made himself/with help from scrap materials).
(Extra note: This is a common theme on other characters where they replace their utility pockets and metal armor with leather/denim. It makes sense for their equipment to be replaced due to wear and tear. Lack of metal armor could be due to lack of weapon/armor production. Plus Leather pauldrons/gauntlets are faster to make.)
[Tifa Lockhart]
Her outfit in AC looks more casual than in RR (ex. She got rid of her compression armbands; She switched out her red combat boots for look-alike converse sneaker boots; and put her utility pockets in front of her skirt/shorts combo). Notice how she doesn’t have gloves nor Materia slots in the movie (Although it’s weird that she DOES have gloves in other games/promos).
[Barret Wallace]
In AC, he has a sleeveless puffer jacket and a fishnet shirt. He also lost his leather utility pockets (for ammo possibly) from RR. And it’s probably because he doesn’t need it, now that he has a new advanced weapon (it can transform from a metal arm into a high tech machine gun and vice versa). As an oil baron, he probably has more access to materials and utilities compared to other characters, that’s why Barret’s clothes don’t look so simple/improvised.
[Marlene Wallace]
Obviously Marlene would have a different look when she got older. But look at her cute frilly pink dress vs. her white sleeveless collared shirt and floral patterned skirt (notice how her outfit looks like a mix of Cloud and Aerith’s outfits). The stitching for her AC outfit is way more simple. Also I’d like to think Barret gave her that floral patterned fabric for her skirt since it would have been difficult to get ahold of.
[Yuffie Kisaragi]
Zippers galore. Her outfit is changed to black with a floral patterned shirt with a denim ensemble (I think her outfit is a little extra because she's a WRO member). Her shuriken’s the same but her metal and leather armor are gone and replaced with a wristband and a black cloth that covers her forearm. She still has her utility pockets though but it’s in denim (I wonder, did she break her old armor?).
(Edit: She also has these green converse knee high boots?? Again, as a WRO member, she probs got them outside of Midgar)
[Vincent Valentine]
Nothing changed that much. He kept his coat. His AC leather straps and gauntlet are less detailed than the Rebirth one. The metal buckles look different in shape too. I think he changed those in AC. Makes sense if there were wear and tear during the years (I wonder how he does his laundry though lmao).
[Cid Highwind]
Cid changed to a cotton blue shirt. He doesn’t have his pilot scarf anymore nor his flight jacket. Instead, he has a brown bomber jacket tied around his waist with a dog tag around his neck. As much as I think his clothes are due to scarce resources, I also don’t think he cares that much regarding fashion.
[Reeve Tuesti]
The shoulder pads. The silver and yellow accents. The foot length blue coat. It's a major improvement on Reeve's outfit compared to his old businessman suit. As the WRO leader, he gets access to making his outfit a little fancy (more chances to trade with other towns/cities outside of Midgar). Although I do think someone made that coat for him, and he wanted to reject it because he considered it too much. But accepted either way 'cause it would be a waste.
#ff7#final fantasy vii#final fantasy 7#ff7 rebirth#ff7 advent children#headcanon#rufus shinra#elena ff7#tseng ff7#reno ff7#rude ff7#cloud strife#tifa lockhart#barret wallace#marlene wallace#yuffie kisaragi#vincent valentine#cid highwind#reeve tuesti
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Disappear
Tarantulas x reader- seeing something you shouldn’t
• So you made one teeny, little mistake. That snowballed and reached avalanche proportions until you’re now saddled with community service to make amends. And given a choice between dealing with living humans at the nursing home or the much quieter dead ones in the local, historic cemetery, you opt for scrubbing tombstones for a few weeks. Easy.
• And it is, except for the guy. It’s an old cemetery, overgrown and stark. Most of the tombstones haven’t had flowers left in years, maybe decades. So you don’t really expect to see any other people and you nearly drop your bucket of supplies when you round a corner of the crumbling stone wall separating the newer, but still ancient, part of the cemetery from the truly ancient parts. He’s just standing there, vacant thousand yard stare into creepy space.
• The fine hair at your nape prickles as you keep moving past the guy. He doesn’t blink and his eyes don’t track you. Don’t see you. Maybe the guy comes to the graveyard to get stoned and space out. You still keep an eye on him because something about him is seriously wrong.
• There’s a human in the graveyard and Tarantulas isn’t sure what to make of it. Sure, the place is full of humans, but not the living, breathing kind. It’s why he picked the place. But now there’s a human and it’s staring at his holomatter avatar. Scrutinizing him. There are still so many bugs and he is suddenly, cripplingly sure that he hadn’t programmed breathing or blinking. Humans did that, right? A lot?They definitely didn’t phase through tombstones or go just solid enough to get stuck in those same tombstones.
• Like right then as he steers the remote avatar around to continue to watch the human.
• You didn’t believe in ghosts. That sort of silliness was strictly slated for the back of your mind with all the childish fears you’d banished long ago. Except, the creep just walked through one of the old tombstones. Sort of. Bucket of cleaning supplies thumping in the grass, your mouth falls open. Did ghosts get stuck? Cause creepy guy who might be, is definitely, a ghost seems to have a leg and his bottom half stuck inside the time worn angel bowing its head over a grave.
• Turns out, you do believe in ghosts. Very much so as you start screaming. And you know what? Spoon feeding the elderly is starting to look amazing right then.
• Scrap. Panic bubbling up, Tarantulas gives up on the blasted avatar, because there’s the very real problem of the hysterically screaming human. That awful screeching is going to draw more of them or it’ll snap out of its apparent paralysis to run screaming and still bring more humans back to investigate. Nope. He tears out of the tomb he’d sheltered in, spidery legs clawing over the grass.
• Apparently, this graveyard is just a gate straight to hell. Ghosts and cryptid nightmare fuel galore. The appearance of the big, metal spidery horror of pure nope is enough to unfreeze you and for your screaming to cut off into an almost hysterical whine. Turning to run as it tore towards you on too many legs, you trip over the bucket and go sprawling in the grass face first.
• And then, it’s webbing you up as left overs for later. Turns out you can scream much louder and you do up until the thing webs your mouth shut and hefts you under an arm like a sack of potatoes. You can still breathe through your nose and you make little panicked whining noises against your gag as you hyperventilate anyway.
• Well, the human isn’t screaming anymore. Not for lack of trying, though. Tarantulas has no idea what to do with you. Sure, there’s plenty of graves and who’s going to realize one has two occupants, not one? Slumping with a hard shudder, the human goes limp and he lifts it a bit higher, head tipping. Nope, still alive and alert, but mercifully silent. Big eyes staring at him.
• Huffing through his vents as he moves deeper into his lair, he debates. His avatar needs work and while he’d studied videos of humans over and over, he hadn’t actually studied a living one. And it wasn’t screaming anymore, just making that hitching, whining sound.
• The decision to keep you is pretty easy. After all, you’ll just run screaming to other humans if he lets you go. Can’t have that. You’re a curiosity that he fully intends to satisfy.
• You live here now. With your cryptid, horror alien spider-robot. Once you finally stop trying to sneak/run away, he’ll stop webbing you to a wall before leaving to patrol the area. He brings you things he finds, but has no concept of what’s a good gift and what’s going to send you in a panicked scurry to get away, but he tries.
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needy
adler x f!bell
summary: adler gets up for a morning cigarette. or tries to. read on ao3
tags/cw: established adlerbell, f!bell, she/her pronouns, bell is russian, fluff, light angst, no plot, drabble, smoking mention, kind of domestic i guess, bo6 adler so he's a little soft, pre-bo6 but post-panama, cw references galore, dog imagery as is synonymous w adlerbell atp, author has adhd and goes on prosaic rambles in lieu of an actual plot. this fic could have been an email?? sorry wc: 3.1k
a/n: bwuhhh this was just an excuse to write self indulgent soft morning adlerbell at the rook while i work on my actual pre-bo6 adlerbell rook fic when i have the energy . no plot, lots of rambling, once again kind of just a thinkpiece on their relationship now adler's an old fossil. idk she was doing nothing being left in my notes app ajdkhjkasjk
He reckons she’s needier these days, more than she ever used to be back in Berlin.
Sometimes he wonders if it’s just his age that makes him feel that way; that perhaps she hasn’t changed at all, and instead it’s the dust settling on his bones, rusted shrapnel over the years snagged in the joints and sinews, that makes him feel sluggish in comparison. It’s the first time in his life since Livingstone brought up the CIA’s desire for more sprightly recruits that he wonders- is he struggling to keep up?
Their reunion after all these years was a messy one: a scrap in an indistinct bar, bloodied knuckles split and bruises welted dark blue, the white of his eye burst red, the curve of her jaw swollen for a good week. Fresh after Panama. As soon as she caught wind of what happened she’d picked up his trail barely a week after he arrived in Bulgaria. Had she come to kill him? He doesn’t know. It isn’t as if she’d confess to it even if she had, and maybe he had it coming anyway. It stopped mattering at all the second the fight had descended into the alleyway, wrestled onto their backs against the cobblestone, where hands had found throats and then jaw, waist, hip, and everything else. Punches had calmed to caresses, curses to kisses, and somehow he’d found himself patching her up back at the Rook, his stray dog come home to him, like old times.
She’d eased herself back into his life easily enough then. Simple and unspoken. Or, rather, wedged her foot back in the door well enough that he couldn’t shut her out again, even if he’d wanted to (as if he hadn’t always kept it ajar all these years just to let her in, never closed, never closed). Never a word for what they are, what they have, the routine they’ve slipped almost effortlessly back into again- that hasn’t changed since the old days- and yet he doesn’t find that it robs it of meaning whatsoever.
If anything, it makes it something rare, special, his diamond in the rough, glinting sea glass washed a perfectly chiselled bead upon the shore. Just as she’d crashed along with the tide as time brought her back to him, he picked her up, tucked her gently back into that place she belonged, in between the rib and vertebrae, nestled inside him all to steady the beat of his restless heart. Her alone enough to settle the frantic, ceaseless palpitations he’s suffered nightly, since… Solovetsky? He thinks? The dull gnawing in the back of his mind all those years in between, that wasn’t sure if he was more frightened for her inevitable return or her disappearing forever, slipping through his fingers back to sea again.
He supposes it doesn’t matter anymore. That was then, and now seemed to fare much nicer.
Now, she rolls sweet and placid onto her back against the mattress, limp as a daisy in rain, soft body bowing to his careful manhandling; he’s itching for a smoke, aching for his vice the second he awoke, hours too early for his alarm. He lifts her off him delicately, almost methodical as he starts with her arm, the heavy loll of her head, her shoulder. Like defusing a bomb, he’d joked once, a comparison she’d only proven right by her explosive reaction to it.
It’s an odd feeling, though, the calm where there had once been nothing but war between them, the quiet, the warmth upon his chest now fading where she’d laid her head after he came back last night- back home, back to her- and it’s in moments like these, just mere glimpses of normalcy, that makes him wonder what could have been his life, theirs, had things not happened the way they did. MK Ultra, Berlin, Solovetsky. Perseus. Then again, he supposes, if she hadn’t been shot in Trabzon that night, if she hadn’t been there at all, then he wouldn’t have known she’d even existed. This mundane moment lost to time like everything else.
She murmurs in her sleep, spurred to wakefulness when the mattress lifts and groans at his absence, her eyes squinting through the sliver of morning light bleeding through the gap in the curtains; even when she’s completely out of it, she doesn’t miss a thing. He’s never exactly been the paragon of stealth when he excels at everything else, but even if every factor in the world had worked in his favour- if the beaten mattress wasn’t so rusted, if the ancient floorboards didn’t squeal underfoot when he stood up, if there wasn’t a constant draft on his side of the room that hit her as soon as he moved- nothing would have stopped her from registering his absence, clawing to fight off sleep just so she had an excuse to grouse at him. Ever his stubborn girl.
“Mm… where y’going…?”
Adler smiles to himself, flat but genuine, stifled by the lethargy that hangs over his head heavy as an anvil. Her accent so thick in the early hours it hardly sounds like English at all. He’s half tempted to reply in Russian, just to see if her cottonmouth tongue latches quicker to that instead.
But he doesn’t, just lingers in the doorway leading out to the hall, feeling only a little guilty for letting in the cold. It rather satisfies him instead to see her shiver and pull the blankets further over herself, keeping her right where he wants her. Right where he needs her, so he knows she’ll still be there when he comes back.
“Smoke,” is all he says, rattling the crumpled pack for her to hear.
She’s half coherent when she grumbles, English sandwiched between Russian endearments. Cussing him out.
“Y’can smoke in here… m’don’t mind. Come back to bed.”
Something tugs at his heart, almost foreign, vague. Something he only feels when she digs her claws in him just like that, even if only to graze. It’s the same certainty as when he wraps his finger around a trigger, pulls a pin, wrenches his hand around the hilt of a knife- unspoken, inevitable. The drop of a guillotine, inexorably quick. A certainty that verges on frightening, a promise, which he’s never been good at keeping, but knows she means wholeheartedly, down to her marrow. Possessiveness, he thinks- (is it irony, now, how often he finds her fist wrapped around the leash he doesn’t even notice he’s wearing?)- people not in their line of work, those with nice houses and desk jobs and white picket fences, he’s heard, call that feeling belonging. To be beckoned like that. Home.
It’s her demand that he stays. Hardly a question. And Bell doesn’t beg.
He’s sure that in her spitefulness, if he’d had a trigger phrase just like hers, she’d spit it at him ‘til he turned heel and crawled back on over to her, slid under the sheets like an apology scrawled onto a note and tucked under the door. It’s a near enough thing- the way her bleary eyes fix on him vengefully through matted lashes, searing her betrayal into him. Every morning he gets up before her, it seems to say: you left me. A petulant notion, only half serious, but one cold enough that it almost works. Frigid. Familiar. Arctic air.
It works a little at least- getting soft in your old age- because he lugs himself back over to the bed and just stands by it, refusing to give her the satisfaction of quiet victory if he climbs back inside. She stretches a languid arm flat across the mattress, rolling catlike onto her stomach, splaying her fingers in the hopes that she might somehow pull him back in to her. She manages a knuckle grazing his knee, before she gives up, pulled under by sleep once more. Head slumped against the pillow, she muffles her disdain.
But Adler is nothing if not at least a little amenable. If he’s sweet on anyone, it’s his Bell. His baby. Hard to let a thing like that go, when she was quite literally made for him. Made by him, in his image. Scraped marrow from rib like Adam, caulking the hole Arash shot through her chest and bestowed life upon her once more. He’s happy to have a piece of himself broken off and left inside her, a tithe tossed to the slab of her altar. The fracture of his soul a discarded lamb in sacrifice, sustaining the sick hunger that starves her.
It keeps them inseparable, he thinks. He’d read something somewhere, pretentious shlock about strings of fate and those bound to it- romantic crap shmucks use to justify ugly marriages and affairs, the suffering of co-dependency given some transcendent meaning, a purpose greater than the mundane. The notion that two people, by whatever higher power, are bound to one another no matter what they do to separate themselves of it, tethered from their first breath and suffering an endless togetherness until their last. He’d rolled his eyes the first time he’d heard of it- there wasn’t a world where he’d be enough of a sap to actually buy into that shit. Maybe his ex-wife might’ve been fond of it, maybe it was something she wrote into one of the letters he kept under his bunk back in ‘Nam. He doesn’t know.
But Bell made him understand it. He’d dug a grave in her when he denied her her own on that airstrip in Turkey, and he buried himself in it, over and over again. His memories, his life, his voice ringing like God’s. His favourite things, treasured, secret. His fears and doubts and worries, every little thing that made up the culmination of his being. It was never just Vietnam he put there. It was everything. She’s half himself, a faded mirror image. It only makes sense that they’d find each other again, eventually. She’d walk the earth, stalking like a bloodhound trailing his dried scent until she found him. She’d roam the endless nights, a ghost shivering their old haunts until he meanders his way back to her again, pulled along by a gnawing ache inside himself- a missing piece he’d seek the rest of his life to fill. She could track him blind. And he would feel her coming, like blood in the water. He did. He did.
It’s that tether that makes it impossible not to relent to her, when he kneels down next to the bed, knee joint cracking under his weight, the mottled floorboard doing nothing to steady him. It’s her, when she has enough leverage now to close the distance between her fingers and the collar of his shirt, curled inside the bleached cotton, fist wrenched tight. The seam digs into the back of his neck but he doesn’t let her pull him to her; he waits, making her work for it. The satisfaction that tends to follow when she does is usually worth her ingratiation.
She drags herself across the mattress, using his body as an anchor. Heavy and boneless, she lays right at the edge of the bed where he kneels, her nose nudging at his jaw as she turns, belly up like prey. Too easy a kill, he knows that. She’s gloating. The fact he’d come back at all means she’s got him right where she wants.
“C’mere,” she murmurs gently, saccharine, cloying. He’s surprised it doesn’t make her gag- the pretend domesticity of it all. Dragging her dried lips, smiling, against the underside of his jaw, her fingers sliding idle up the back of his neck, arm slung around his shoulder like she’s expecting to be carried out.
He humours her with a smirk, his blues nearly grey in the dim dark of the room as she mouths at him, vying for his attention. It’s as much a demand as her words had been, sharp as her tone as she nips at his jaw. Adler sighs, as though turning his face to gaze down at her were something laborious, and not the blessing he counts on every finger, every day, seemingly numbered since Panama. He tuts, and it says, what am I going to do with you?
But if his condescension was an attempt to dissuade her advances, it doesn’t work, because she sees right through his playful façade, and the wry smile that unfurls sleepy on her lips betrays her excitement, the sifting of her legs under the sheets audible as she squeezes them together. Needy. She knows he notices.
“Not gonna work, Bell,” he hums dryly. Yet he steals this moment of her surrender, his eyes flitting to every feature of her face. He doesn’t need to commit her to memory, she’s dug in there like a tick. But God, if he doesn’t like to look at her. He brings a rough hand down against her temple, smoothing the baby hairs back, eliciting a satisfied sigh from her as her eyes slip shut. Her head falls back against the pillow, anticipating a kiss he doesn’t give her.
“C’mon. Back to sleep. I’ll be ten minutes.”
“Five.”
“Bell.”
“Five minutes.”
Adler sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and scrunching his eyes shut.
“C’mon,” she croons, “five minutes… n’then…”
He thinks she’s fallen back asleep, the way her sentence carries off like that into silence. But when he opens his eyes she’s blinking prettily up at him, looking far too satisfied. Just as he opens his mouth to ask why, he feels the warm press of her hand against his knee, sliding up his thigh, fingertips tugged impishly at the sweatpants he’d haphazardly thrown on. He’s lightning quick to catch her, fingers circling her wrist; where the darting action might scare a weaker person it makes Bell’s eyes light up like stars, enamoured with his roughness. Excited. The way only she could be, eager pup biting at his ankles for a reaction.
“Behave,” he scolds, giving her knuckle a cursory smack before releasing her. That must finally be enough to spoil her fun, because she huffs, growling low in her throat, and rolls back over, burrowing herself deeper into the blanket than she’d begun.
It’s always a game to her, one she doesn’t much like losing. He can’t blame her for it. It’s always been that way. Back in Berlin, he’d taught her to play poker the proper way, the American way- whatever that meant- her downfall eternally being the fact she couldn’t bluff for shit around him. And it was just him- she’d caught on quick to the play, and had triumphed a couple times against Sims and Lazar; Park had refused to indulge the game, and Woods wiped the floor with the lot of them, even Adler. But with him, Bell just couldn’t lie. He was carved from marble, impassable- what he’d been trained to do. And she was a piece chipped off his softest part, malleable- of course he’d catch every minute twitch and wince, the flitting of wet lashes, the purse of an uncertain lip. She always told him the truth even with her eyes, her heart bore on her sleeve. It almost always felt like cheating. After all, it was what she was made for, wasn’t it?
And this felt much the same way. Not as strict as the luck of dealt hands and stifled poker faces but she’s never said or done anything to him she doesn’t mean. After he missed the shot in Solovetsky, all cards were strewn on the table. There was no mystery anymore. No joy taken in a good old fashioned backstab when the real damage was done, much too late to rectify. Maybe that’s why she makes it her personal goal to poke and prod and tease him now, chasing her fun in her own way, a decade late. Suppose it’s why she hates when he doesn’t just drop the cool attitude and give in.
He rises from the floor, that same knee joint clicking again. Where she might have mumbled a curt jibe about it, she’s silent, sulking into the pillow.
But just as he goes to leave, Adler stops at the door, a foot out into the hallway, the rest of him still stuck here, stuck on her. He sees a similar image in the back of his mind, of her laid upon the gurney in Die Landebahn, halfway into the back room with a syringe in hand when for one single moment of sobriety it dawned on him, what he’d been doing to her. Nothing like guilt, but it came close. Tinged with the regret of something so shameful as affection, Cupid’s arrow dipped in kerosene, shot straight through his heart; to come out the other side, to let him survive, to let him have this, here, her, now. And it’s a torture to have lived it, to know he doesn’t deserve a lick of it. The soft rise and fall of her breath beneath the blanket. Her hair splayed upon his pillow. She buries her nose deep in the old goose feather to try and keep him where he’s left her. Hold him close even when he’s gone.
The decade’s done much to him. He’d put on a couple pounds, had to start plucking the errant greys flecking his hairline, begun to wake most mornings with a tell-tale crick in his neck. He’s learned to relax that hard line in his brow, drawn too deep to reverse the evidence of age; let himself laugh a little easier, surprised people with his newfound ability to actually smile. He’s lost a lot, gained half as much. He’d been through hell and back, worse maybe than what he did to her- his karma, he supposes. And he supposes the decade’s made him soft, sentimentality creeping in to nestle somewhere he can’t reach, hidden inside himself with all the other things he doesn’t talk about. And he supposes of everything he’s lost, he has Bell again, and all things considered- it’s a fair trade.
He sucks in a breath, a sigh made audible for her to hear. Even as she feigns sleep, he knows she catches it, a flinch of her shoulder- where the shot he missed had landed in lieu of her head. In Solovetsky.
Then, Adler sighs, followed by a promise that feels to her like a confession.
“Five minutes.”
And when the door clicks shut, Bell steals herself a little victory smile.
#idk what this is but i love them#this was v self indulgent and might be nonsense to everyone else bc like nothing happens but . yeah#actually left this in my notes for a couple weeks came back to finish it and forgot i wrote adler thinking 'his baby' about bell and wept#love having adhd forgetfulness sometimes bc i get hurt by my own writing like i didnt write the damn fic#i love adlerbell. a normal amount#my writing#adlerbell#adler#russell adler#adler x bell#russell adler x bell#adler x reader#russell adler x reader#call of duty#call of duty fanfic#call of duty x reader#call of duty black ops 6#call of duty cold war#call of duty black ops cold war#cod#cod bo6#cod bocw#cod cw#adbell
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I've basically given up on the idea of rep for us, maybe Arcane really is the best treatment our allies can give us
I wouldn't be surprised if Dropout thinks drag queens count as rep for trans women honestly
well don’t give up. the reason you can’t find good “representation” for trans girls is because you’re looking for it in a netflix show and a company of lab-grown mcelroy brothers and children of career politicians. that isn’t to say we shouldn’t demand more — we should, this shit is dire — but there is plenty of tabletop stuff being made out there BY trans women ABOUT trans women BEING trans women and it’s not even that hard to find if you go on itch or just ask a girl who makes tabletop rpgs on this website. you could probably find dozens of transfem exclusive actual play podcasts — they just won’t have the same overproduced feeling or lost of snazzy special effects and celebrity guests (well. tme celebrity guests. it’s pretty easy to get Chelsea Manning on your podcast so i hear).
and that’s just actual play! like, this website in particular is full to the brim with independently made transfeminine art. webcomics have also often historically been spearheaded by (sometimes then-closeted) trans women — like here’s some webcomics about/by transfems that i personally like; Haus of Decline, close your eyes look at the mountains, Homestuck, Shencomix (well we’ll get him one day) — i hear Questionable Content and Dumbing of Age are made by the two biggest eggs in webcomic history and both comics have transfems galore in them too (go figure)
i… do really wish there were more transfems in animated tv though! the scraps we get are fucking dire.
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Imagine getting the X-Men into anime.
Your three friends had been trying to find you for hours. They had no clue where you had hidden yourself away in though I guess in hind sight checking your room would have been productive. Behind the door they could hear you singing along to some song that definitely wasn't English. When they cracked it open all three peaking in like some Scooby doo level of stacking on top of each other they spotted you bouncing along as you sang the opening song. Pajamas and messy hair evident with snacks galore no wonder they couldn't find you.
Kurt immediately took the opportunity to teleport standing above you snagging the chip bag from your hand as you tried rescuing your beloved snack from the blue fiend. " Hey not fair. Unhand my salty treat you fuzzy snack taxer." The man laughs at you shaking his head as he starts shoveling chips into his mouth. "Nein. It is your tax for disappearing after training." You blow a raspberry at him as you pull him down onto the oversized bean bag with you. " I got my new anime box set I'm doing some mental relaxation. "
Remy eyes the screen plopping down on his designated bean bag before Anna Marie joins suit. " Well this don't make no sense there not speaking English. How are you supposed to watch if you're reading at the bottom of the screen. " You let out a chuckle towards the Cajun as Kurt situates himself in your lap and the bean bag like a cat finding it's seat. " Aw I'm sorry Remy. I forgot you can't read but you did interrupt my bum time." The man huffs in response chucking one of your empty soda cans at you. Anna Marie can't help laughing as you two fight him throwing cans and you use your mutation to absorb the scrap metal. Kurt to tuned into the animated figures on screen to mind the constant movement going on.
After the three kept asking too many questions of what was going on after getting too invested you decided it wouldn't hurt to just restart the series and continue your binge fest with your friends. " If we're gonna binge anime y'all need to do this right. I'll put the first tape in and get the episode ready but you three need to go get pajamas on as well and fetch us some more snacks. " You pause throwing your wallet to Anna Marie. " I ordered chinese food for us all, make sure Remy doesn't steal my cash Anna when you guys see the delivery guy. " As you say this you can spot Jubilee heading back to her room across the hall. " Hey Jubes. You wanna come watch Ranma 1/2 with us. I just got the box set in today."
The girl looks excited but pauses for a moment. " Man I haven't finished the sailor moon set you let me borrow last week yet." You share a chuckle with the young girl ruffling her head. " Don't worry about it sparkler. It's not like no one's watched two series at once before. This is the last call though when they get back with the snacks I'm not restarting the series again. " The girl gets the message running into her room to change into some comfy clothes as you get another bean bag set. Staying in the mansion even quiet time alone can turn into a mini party.
You're not sure when Logan had joined the party but he had strolled in behind Remy when he had gone to pick up the Chinese. Thank god you got used to ordering bulk food because you never knew when someone would want some of what you were eating. Plopped on your bed Logan digged into the food making passing comments about the anime eventually getting sucked into it as well long after the food was gone. It was nice to be surrounded by friends while sharing something you enjoyed. After that night having anime nights became a thing in the mansion some how a revolving door of characters would show up.
It became such a thing you and Kurt would often mimic the fights on screen.
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Suprise cake!
#cookie run ovenbreak#Cookie run#cookie run fanart#strawberry cream cookie#stollen cookie#scraps galore
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Have a art dump from yesterday since it was my last day of school yesterday and now I am on summer vacay (sunny boy is a dca ripoff my friend made randomly and I love him very much hehe) and dont take the last moon seriously ofc he's just a little in the clouds (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)
Yippee‼️‼️ I am going to be properly working on my aus now and will most likely start posting the first one by late next week(Thursday-Sunday)
I guess that means I have to make a posting schedule for each of my aus uh oh
Aus I will be working on:
Celestial tide extravaganza- moon and sun are in charge of a water park and they find yn who is a merperson woahh, and the guys keep them there by pretending like they're a new mermaid attraction that helps out(this au wont have any lore it is only for shenanigans (人 •͈ᴗ•͈))
Shattered shadows at bay- sun and moon are cryptic(?) like entities that took over a discarded animatronic body (the regular dca body) and they integrated themselves into society, working at a daycare! Since they don't need to charge they stay awake at all times and they don't necessarily have anything they do during their free time so they start a series of killings that only target at people that harm children and they meet yn who is a frequent parent at their daycare and the three quickly become friends! Each having secrets of their own ofc (。•̀ᴗ-)✧
Starlights galore- sun and moon are performers for the faz co company, eclipse ran away from the company which led to faz making sun and moon. Yn was tasked to decommission the pair by a unknown source and masks themselves as a prop/costume designer + handler for the boys!(They have a strict deadline of a year) Sun and moon are aware there is someone trying to deactivate them so they are trying their best to escape from the company like their older model did so they can pursue personal passions and live a life of peace. Maybe their new friend can help them with their escape plan!(✯ᴗ✯)
Sorry for this info dump here ik this was supposed to be a art post but I would like to get this out of the way so when I start posting my aus people can come here to get a idea of what I'm doing (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*.✧
Also all of the aus will mostly have no romantic relationships involving the dca, YN (sorry self shippers I just don't know how to portray romance and I'd like to go with a friendship thing:[)
#moondrop#sundrop#five nights at freddy's security breach#fnaf sun and moon#security breach#fnaf moon#fnaf sun#fnaf sb au#dca au#shattered shadows at bay au#celestial tide extravaganza au#scrapped starlights galore au
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Secrets of the family get buried twice as deep.
Sanctuary.
That's what he called it when they'd finished building it together. The old abandoned building right on the border of Crime Alley and the Bowery that was more than it seemed. Because under all those shabby rubble covered windows, was a paradise secluded from the outside world. His paradise. His sanctuary.
It was too secure for anybody to get into, armed guns and reinforced walls to withstand the rogues of Gotham he used to work with. Alarms and doors and lazers, tranquilizers and poisons and gases galore. It was basically an aboveground bunker with 8 years of constantly upgraded and refined security.
He called it his sanctuary, because no one could get in. Not far anyways.
It was his home for a good while, too. Everything someone would need to survive comfortably could be found on one of the many floors. It also happened to be his workshop, where the "magic" would happen, making and fixing and building everything that anyone needed, the pinnacle of technological creation.
Wren walked through one of the many floors of his Sanctuary, packing away whatever he needed into his suitcase before he hit the road. He just needed to collect some things first... mostly guns... it was a lot of guns. Then after he'd contact Danny and he and Tim would move to the Ghost realm until shit all blew over.
With every door Wren passed through, he closed it behind him, locking and sealing them just in case. This was his Sanctuary, no one else could get in. But he never shook the feeling of a general wrongness.... his betrayal really hit him hard. Because of him... nowhere could every really feel safe... could it.
Wren furrowed his brows as he rummaged around one of the shelves, full of many different kinds of ammunition, rounds, anything that could go pew pew if shot right. "Where the fuck did ya go..." He muttered to himself, placing his hands on his hips with an annoyed little huff. One of his guns that he made required very special bullets. Couldn't just buy them anywhere, he made them himself. Sure he could just take a different gun, but considering who was after him right now Wren didn't want to take any chances.
Running his hands through his hair, Wren moved to the elevator, going down another floor before stepping out, shutting and sealing the door behind him just like he did all the other times.
....Why did this floor feel different?
Wren furrowed his brows further as he walked. This was his "junk" room, full of scraps he didn't want to throw out just yet incase they still had use. Did he accidentally put them in here? That would be annoying. We'll, the only way to find out was to start looking, right?
This was his sanctuary. No one else could get in.
Wren expected to be alone.
Wren wasn't alone.
@brother-of-a-villain
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Savage and Rumble!! I found these two scrapped characters and took them in, giving them headcannon galore. Since they aren't actually part of the show, can we just adopt them? 🤔
#artists on tumblr#lmk#art#digital art#savage and rumble#lmk macaque#lmk fanart#lego monkie kid fanart#I have many headcannons for them#They are almost ocs
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headcanon yippee!
mav was one of those kids in school that like chewed on a pen until it exploded, like scrapped knees galore and hair in his eyes. someone plz give that boy a haircut he cant see, someone help him he’s bumping into poles and is bulldozing through students in the hallways.
ALSO he took forever at the water fountain and kids behind him would go “One, two, three, that’s enough for me!” and he would just lose it RAHHHHHHH
ice was one of those kids that would try to pick up as many chairs when a teacher said “i need a big strong boy to help me put away all the chairs!” like ugh show off i bet he did all his homework too
#maybe ice was one of those kids in line behind the fountain#topgun#top gun 1986#top gun headcanons#maverick#iceman#water fountain#yeah water fountain#fuck yeah water fountain#icemav#stopthatfool goes crazy and explodes#stopthatfool's headcanons
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