#sugar glow kit

[theskit]

Stickers AU

Important!!!

Direct linking gets rid of the readmore cuts!

If you came here via direct link, or wish to use the direct links to another part of the story, and DO NOT want to spoil the surprise stickers, please click on my blog name to go to the actual post after using the link.

Part 7

《Prev Next》

Sitting on the hotel roof as he tried to calm down from the high-speed flight away from Batman, Danny looked over his ill-gotten gains.

Ooh, candy! Why did Batman have candy? Did he have a problem with his blood sugar? Shrugging, Danny popped a sucker into his mouth. What else did he get?

Fiddling with one piece of a thin stack of black metal, he managed to click a concealed switch that caused the sides to expand from an unobtrusive oval to razor-sharp, wing shaped edges. Ow!

Shaking the sting from his left hand, Danny inspected the thin, shallow slice on his finger before holding it to the edge of his hoodie to keep his blood off things until he got back to the room for a band-aid.

Getting the now obviously a batarang to collapse back down, Danny beamed. Score! He'd gotten four of the things, one each for himself, Ellie, Sam, and Tucker. He didn't think Jazz would mind not getting a vigilante throwing weapon as a souvenir. She usually used the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick or the Boo-Staff, having been mostly banned from long-range weaponry on account of her inheriting Dad's aim...

Shuddering, Danny banished the memories accompanied by that thought in favor of the last item. Looking it over, it seemed like an airpod? Did he grab one half of Batman's headpho-... Oh, Ancients that was a communicator! Could they track it? Who was he kidding, of *course* they could track it!

Freaking out juuuust a little, Danny stuffed everything else into his pockets, grabbed the comm unit, and high tailed it, phasing through walls and floors in his hurry to get back to the room.

Once there he dove for his luggage, pulling out the Thermos he'd brought along just in case, and dumped the ear piece in before locking it down.

There. Heaving a sigh of relief, Danny slumped down against the side of the bed he'd claimed when they first checked in. The ecto-shielding on the Thermos should block any incoming or outgoing signals until he could get Tucker to look at it and make sure no one could trace the comm back to him.

Wincing against the light as the bedside lamp on the other side of the room flared to life, he saw Jazz squinting at him fuzzily, one hand on the Anti-Creep Stick propped up on wall beside the bed. "Danny? Izzat you?"

"Yeah, Jazz, it's just me. I just got back, sorry for waking you. I'm gunna wash up and head to bed. You can go back to sleep." Danny felt bad that he'd woken Jazz up after she'd had a long day helping set up the Fenton convention booth and gently riding herd on their parents' over enthusiastic responses to the other 'ghost hunters'.

"Okay Danny, glad you're back safe. Night," Jazz mumbled as she turned out the light and laid back down. Danny smiled at her softly before turning to gather his things. It had been a good night, if more eventful than he had planned when he first went out exploring.

Batman had traced the comm unit's signal to one of the larger, more popular hotels in the area before the strangely fluctuating signal had cut out entirely.

Inspecting the roof, he caught sight of a dim glow. Kneeling down, he collected what looked to be a few drops of fresh blood with a swab kit. It appeared that whoever had taken his gear had rested here for a bit before leaving again, possibly to check what all they had taken, then finding and disabling the comm unit. He hoped they hadn't injured themselves too badly, probably on the batarangs, if it was indeed their blood he'd found.

The dimly glowing sticker, still on its backing paper with a drop of blood on the corner, caught half under an air conditioning unit, pointed to it being the same person. Picking it up, Batman inspected it for a moment before dropping it into a separate evidence bag. He'd put both samples through analysis back at the cave.

@mygood-bitch99 @stargazer-luna @easily-broken-by-emotion @dolfay @britcision @cyber-geist @is-this-even-relatable @alcorbearson @fisticuffsatapplebees @thegatorsgoose @my-mom-calls-me-rat @some-rotten-nest @crystalqueertea @meira-3919 @wandererofthestars @seraphinedemort @bjurnberg @blep-23 @stargirl1331 @bianca-hooks123 @addie-lover-of-stories @pickleking8 @iconicanemone @sarina-elais @mur-ururu @sailor-goddess @dragonfirefeather @nutcase8691 @ravenpainter

[trueangel420]

kit walker, “I said it really nicely, so can you be my savior?” kinda outta luck - ldr ౨ৎ part 2 of this wc 1038 (it’s so short)

You stood at the payphone, fingers curled around the wire as you leaned back against the glass booth. Your mother’s voice boomed through the static: “You’ve been riding around the South with that man? Baby, you haven’t stolen his car yet.” She wasn’t one to judge; she knew how impulsive you could be. After a few hours of traveling with Kit, she was worried about her little troublemaker.

“Ma!” you whispered into the phone, glancing back at the gas station. “I’m not stealin’ his car. I tried already,” you mumbled, embarrassment washing over you again.

“We’ve been driving around all night, Ma. I’m trying to behave,” you said, hearing her sigh through the phone. She was always supportive, no matter what. “Go into that gas station and get something. You don’t have to hurt that good man. He’s helping you out of the kindness of his heart, Bunny.” That was true. You needed some clothes and refreshments, and you didn’t plan on paying for them. You hung up the phone and stepped out of the glass booth, walking past Kit as he filled up his tank.

“Need me to come in with you, doll?” He called out, making you pause. God, he was polite—probably the nicest man you’d ever met.

“No need, just grabbing a few things,” you replied, eyeing his clothes. Unlike you, he had extra clothes in his car and had changed into jeans and a tank top—something simple to beat the heat. His outfit was clean, showing off the outline of his body perfectly. He reached for his wallet, waving it.

“Here,” he offered.

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “No, I got it,” you insisted, even though you had nothing but the lint in your pockets. Kit watched you with those kind eyes as you turned and headed into the gas station, the bell above the door chiming softly as you entered.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glow over the rows of snacks and drinks. You grabbed a basket and started tossing in essentials—water, gas station sandwiches, and a six-pack of Coke. Making your way to the back, where the clothes were, you spotted an American flag bikini and a pair of shorts. A beach bag caught your eye—one big enough to fit everything. You decided to stuff all your items in there.

Glancing back, you noticed the old clerk wasn't paying any attention. Perfect. You looked outside and saw Kit waiting in the car, his hands tapping on the wheel. “Getaway driver,” you mumbled to yourself, laughing. That's what he's going to be when you're done.

You made your way to the cashier, holding the bag like it was yours and flashing him a sweet smile. “Do you happen to have any cigarettes?” you asked, trying to distract him. The man shook his head and looked behind him. "I don't suppose I do, little lady. We have... well," he started to search more thoroughly, and you slipped a chocolate bar off the counter into your bag.

“Well, I'll be on my way if you don't. Have a good day, mister!” you said, leaving—your pace casual, though you didn't want him to notice his loot slung over your arm.

You sat in the passenger seat, and Kit watched you closely before clearing his throat. “I feel bad for having you pay for it, doll. Can I make it up to you?” Though it had only been a few hours, Kit was already incredibly sweet on you.

You bit your lip, glancing over at him. He offered, and he’s been so kind—he doesn’t even know you. “I don’t even know where you're going. I don’t want this to be our last stop,” he confessed voice lower than usual, his eyes focused on you. “Do you want to keep going with me? Don’t you have people back home?”

He shook his head. “They don’t matter, not after I met you.”

“You don’t know me from a can of paint, Kit—” He shook his head again and started the engine, his hands tapping the wheel. “Don’t need to know you, sugar. Didn’t you hear me say that?”

“I’m bad news,” you blurted out, looking at him. His face twisted in confusion as he rubbed his jaw, keeping one hand on the wheel. He finally settled on his words.

“Don’t care.”

“Why?” you whispered, gawking at him like he was insane. He’d only met you hours ago and now he wanted to stay on the route you were going. A wild girl like you—you didn’t even have a plan, just to get as far away from that gun and that truck as you could. He turned on the radio, keeping the volume low as "My Girl" played.

“I got sunshine on a cloudy day,” he sang along, ignoring you. “I guess you say what can make me feel this way,” he glanced at you, “my girl.”

“Come on, Kit, stop—” you tried to keep a straight face, your lips pressed into a line.

“Why? Because you’re different, that’s why. You got somethin’ in you. I can see it now—you and me traveling together for a long time,” he said fondly, his cheeks slightly pink as he continued to drive. The road was quiet, and the sun started to set. You needed to make a decision about him. You needed to be truthful—you needed to be careful.

“Kit…” you started, turning towards him as you spoke. He glanced at you before staring at the road again. “I’ve hurt people. I’m a—” You recalled all the things you did; this wasn’t your first time stealing and hurting people close to you. Trouble followed you insatiably.

“I don’t need money, fortune, or fame,” he hummed to the song. “I guess you say what can make me feel this way, my girl,” he looked at you again, smiling.

“Kit, I’ve ki—”

“Don’t tell me,” your eyes widened at his words. What? Don’t tell him? What was his problem.. why did he trust you so much—why did he like you so much?

“D-don’t tell you?”

“Don’t tell me, sugar.” You nibbled your bottom lip, realizing he was serious about this, about being here with you. “Turn left here—it’s a motel,” you murmured, watching him nod and make the turn.

[in-a-nook-with-a-notebook]

Life Could Be A Dream

Franchise: Star Wars (but modern AU)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x male reader (reader's pronouns are he/him/his)

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: fluff, modern!AU, implied smut (scratch marks on Poe’s back, hickeys, mentions of nudity if you squint), fluff, established relationship, mentions of Poe being an F1 driver, no plot really just a sweet morning with Poe, did I mention fluff?

Summary: Poe always gets cuddly after a race; the more intense the race, the more he wants to be glued to your side. Yesterday's race was pretty crazy, but you’re not complaining.

A/N: This is ridiculously self indulgent, especially with the breakfast foods (I am a slut for a good serving of pancakes) also the inspiration and the song mentioned is Sh-Boom (Life Could Be A Dream) by The Sh-Booms, highly recommend listening while reading; for some reason I imagine Poe being a Formula One racer in a modern AU so voila

You blink your tired eyes open with the sun peering through the curtains of the hotel room. It’s warm and welcome on your skin. A lazy smile drifts over your face. You stretch a little before curling up under the thick blanket again; it’s smooth against your bare skin, perfect for a morning like this.

You slowly roll onto your side, turning your back to the window. Your eyes land on your boyfriend’s sleeping form. Poe is snoring softly, his dark curls tousled and unkempt. He looks so peaceful. His broad back glows in the morning light, the duvet haphazardly covering the lower half of his body. There are faint red marks near his shoulders, reminders of last night. Even after the longest, most intense races, he still has some… pent up energy.

Careful not to wake him, you lean forward and press a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades. You then silently slip out of the bed, tugging on a clean pair of boxers. You’re grateful for the carpeting under your bare feet until you reach the cold tile of the bathroom. You brush your teeth, considering you can taste how bad your morning breath is, but you don’t bother fixing your messy hair. You wash your face with cold water to wake yourself up a little more, padding it dry with a facecloth. You look at yourself in the mirror, your eyes sliding over the hickeys on your neck and chest from Poe last night. Your fingers ghost over them.

After leaving the bathroom, you grab a shirt from last night. It’s either yours or Poe’s. You’re not sure, but you don’t really care all that much - it’s a shirt either way.

You wander to the kitchen, thankful the two of you had booked at an extended stay hotel; full kitchen with a big fridge, living space separate from the bed area; lots of space for you and him to stay for a while. You dig through the fridge in search of ingredients for breakfast. The two of you went out for groceries a couple days before his big race in Melbourne, so you had everything you needed to make a filling breakfast; Poe’s always hungry after a night like last night. You are too, quite frankly. You grab bacon, eggs and milk and put them on the counter, lightly kicking the fridge closed behind you. From the cabinets behind you, you collect salt, baking powder, white sugar, and a small bag of flour.

As much as you don’t like packing heavy when you travel for Poe’s races, you’ve brought it upon yourself to have some essentials so you aren’t eating out all the time. After the first few races, you pretty much put together a travel kit of cooking/baking supplies and other things you guys would usually have at home.

You grab a mixing bowl and a wooden spoon and begin mixing the dry ingredients together. You snag a normal bowl from the cupboard to mix the wet ingredients with a whisk. You then combine them together and leave it on the counter with a dishcloth over it, letting it rise. From the cabinets underneath the counter, you grab two pans; one for the pancakes when they’re ready and one for the bacon. As you set the pan on the stove to heat up, you hear shuffling from the bedroom area; Poe’s awake.

The pan warms quickly and you start laying bacon on it to fry. The sizzling meets your ears just as Poe appears out of the corner of his eye. You focus mostly on the bacon, but you can sense his presence. His arm snakes around your waist and he pulls your back against his warm, bare chest. He rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Good morning,” you say with a smile.

Poe hums, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck. “Morning, baby.”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Like a log, but last night was amazing…” He nibbles on your neck a little, tightening his grip around you. You chuckle, bringing your hand down to squeeze his. “Bacon?” Poe inquires, changing the subject and looking down at the pan in front of you. His chin rests on your shoulder, leaning his head against yours.

“And pancakes,” you add, gesturing lazily to the mixing bowl.

“Mmm, I love your breakfasts.”

“You love all my cooking. And baking, for that matter.”

“Because you, mi amor, are an absolute god in the kitchen.”

“You flatter me, darling.” You reach for the tongs to flip the bacon strips. “I’m assuming you’re hungry. You’re always hungry.”

“For your food, always.”

“Flirt.”

“I’m just speaking the truth here.” He presses a kiss to your cheek. “Want help?”

“I love you, but you can just sit there and look pretty for now.” You turn your head to fully kiss him. “I wanna cook for you.”

“You always cook for me.”

“Yeah, because, no offence, but you can’t cook for shit.”

“I’m a Formula One driver, not a chef.”

“I’m not even technically a chef.”

“You might as well be,” Poe replies, untangling himself from you. “You are probably one of the best cooks I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. And eating with. And, you know, everything else.” He kisses the back of your neck before stepping away to sit at the island, watching you fondly. “You sure you don’t want help?”

“Well, how about you set out the fruit from the fridge?”

“That I can do.”

As you get a plate out for the bacon, as well as a couple pieces of paper towel to catch the leftover grease, while Poe goes to the fridge. You feel Poe’s finger drag down your spine, sending a shiver through your body.

“Tease,” you murmur, looking at him over your shoulder. He smirks at you, blowing a kiss to you. “You wanna put some music on?”

“Absolutely.”

You transfer the cooked bacon onto the plate, then put more bacon on the pan. Poe shuffles around behind you, connecting his phone to the speaker.

Life could be a dream, life could be a dream

Do, do, do, do, sh-boom

A smile crosses your face with you hear the song and you turn to look at Poe. He puts his phone down on the counter. You both begin to murmur the lyrics under your breath.

“Life could be a dream. If I could take you up in paradise up above. If you would tell me I’m the only one that you love, life could be a dream, sweetheart, hello, hello again, sh-boom, and hopin’ we’ll meet again…”

“You look so good in my shirt,” he murmurs, coming up behind you again. He kisses your cheek, resting his hand on your hip. “I ever tell you that?”

“You’ve mentioned…” you reply, relaxing under his touch.

“I love when you travel with me,” Poe says. “Thank you for coming.”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be, my love.”

Poe gently takes your chin in his hand to turn your head towards him. He presses a deep kiss to your lips. When he pulls away, he has a piece of bacon in his hand.

“Impatient?” You tease.

“It’s bacon. I’m hungry.”

You laugh when he takes a bite and his face lights up. “You’re cute,” you remark. His face goes red and he dips his head.

“Shut up.”

“No.” You tilt his chin up with your finger, pressing your lips to his. “You’re downright adorable, Poe Dameron.”

“You’re relentless.”

“You love me.”

“I adore you.”

You smirk. “I know.”

Some mornings, the two of you have to rush around, packing for another plane or prepping for another race, but not today. Poe’s got a free day, and he intends to spend every minute of it with you. Even if it’s just swaying in the kitchen, teasing each other. As long as he’s with you, he’s happy.

A/N: I just wanted a soft morning with Poe and the song had me in a fluffy mood so I hope y'all enjoy this because I know I did! Feedback is encouraged and appreciated! Have a lovely day y'all <3

[trans-librarian]

Good Mornings and Model Kits

Tags: M/M, Fluff, Domestic, Established relationship, Team Fortress 2, Medic, Engineer, EngieMedic, Science Party, German Engineering

WC: 1.5k

CW: None this is the fluffiest most self indulgent garbage I have ever written. We die like mercs choking on the sugar of this fluff. You could consider a line or two hinting at suggestive buuuuut it's nothing explicit

Translations:

Mein Leibe - My love

mein bärchen - My teddy bear

A/N: Sooooooo I always promised myself that I wouldn't start writing fanfic because like idk I told myself that it would be cringey to write fanfic and that anything I wrote would suck but to be cringe is to be free and this image was too strong in my brain not to write and gods I gotta let myself be and create what I want instead of what I think is good enough.

I was super inspired by @creedei and his engiemedic art. I was low-key inspired by these posts: (I also love popitdontdropit on AO3 they're transmasc engie fanfic will make you ascend to a higher plane)

https://www.tumblr.com/creedei/727483531127914496/sketch-dump (third image)

https://www.tumblr.com/creedei/721589317420695552/cute-aggression

https://archiveofourown.org/users/popitdontdropit/

Also its not noted in the fic or relevant but my engie is transmasc I need everyone to know because its my favorite hc. I fell in love with creedei's engie. He's mad gender euphoria for me as a transmasc guy with the same body type (also because i simp hard for medic so seeing the character I project onto with the character I like is just *chefs kiss*). And pyro who is mentioned in passing uses they/she pronouns because I like when this shit is as queer as possible and I get to choose what happens in this story.

I'll probably also cross post this on AO3 at some point and link it here. Anyway, Enjoy!!! *runs and hides*

A quiet dawn begins to trickle light into the Red barracks. All is quiet on a seldom day off for the Red Team. Medic drinks in this treasured time. With a cup of tea in hand he turned towards the infirmary where the notes from his most recent experiment await review. He definitely needs to reevaluate the actual size of a gorilla liver before putting it into Demoman again. The muffled sounds of snores creates a lulling tune that echoes in the halls until...

tink tink tink clunk

tink tink tink clunk

"Hm?" Medic's ears perked up to the quiet sound

click click

tink tink tink

"Vhat is zhat?" Medic turns to follow the sound.

A tiny symphony of clicks and clacks emanates from deep in the halls past the common area and the majority of the bedrooms. Medic follows the sound through the hall.

tink tink tink clunk

tink tink tink tink clunk

tink tink clunk

Medic finds himself at the Engineer's workshop.

"He never usually vakes up zhis early on a day off at least not vithout vaking me for some.....private time" Medic smirks to himself thinking of Engie and his previous day off exploits in Engie's room, Medic's room, the infirmary operating table, the shower... Medic gets lost for a moment in a glow of those steamy memories and shakes his head bringing him back to reality. "Vonder vhat he's doing?" Medic thinks and slowly opens the door and sneaks into Dell's workshop.

Dell's back is facing the door as he sits at his desk. The small bulbed lamp on his work desk illuminates a halo of light around the man. The soft sweater he's wearing adds a comforting warmth to the glow. An etheral god tinkering with his realm. Like a moth to a flame, the medic slowly crossed the room beelining to the one place where he slots in perfectly. Once within reach, Medic wraps his arms around Engie leaning his head on Dell's shoulder placing a gentle kiss before resting his head.

"Good morning mein leibe" Ludwig cooed "What's got you up so earl-" tink "Ow! vhat vas zhat"

"Sorry darlin' sometimes the little bits go flyin' because of the nippers," Engie turned "Where did you get hit?"

"Why?"

"So I can kiss it better." Dell smiled.

Ludwig groaned at the horrible pickup line and smirked "I got hit right here" and points to his mouth.

"I'm very sorry" Dell chuckled. He grabbed the Medic's chin with his gunslinger with the lightest touch only he is capable of and gave him a gentle kiss. "What brings you by the workshop this early, dumplin'?"

"I was getting some tea and I heard the sound of..."

tink tink

"Ow!" another small piece of plastic hits Medic in the forehead. "...Zhat. I heard zhat and started following and it brought me here, mein bärchen. Vhat is zhis anyway?"

"Sorry again. The lil bits that come off the model kit pieces can go flying in unexpected places."

"Model kit? I didn't know you even were interested in these let alone where to find them."

"Pyro turned me on to these last time we went to town. They begged me to take her to this store with all these fancy plushies that are imported so they could get a new one for their collection. Real quality y'know. She ended takin' a while but ended up choosing this nice bear fox thing that I learned is called a tanuki and then there was this other one that was an armadillo and I was thinkin' about it but I realized I would never use-"

"Sveetie. You're rambling"

"Thank you" Engie laughs, "what would I do without you?" He places a hand on medics cheek and places a kiss on the other. "So Pyro showed me these model kits they have and they said I would love these and I grabbed a couple to keep 'em around. This is the first chance I've had to put one together."

"Interesting. Vhat's it going to be?" The Medic looks at the subject of their boyfriend's focus and sees....well a lot of pieces that will make something? Small red and black pieces of plastic twinkle under the work lamp. A large pile of injection mold sheets loom next to Engie's work area. Pieces are in various states of progress some starting to take shape like limbs.

"It's gonna be a robot. A lot of these kits are different robots couldn't tell you much because I can't read the Japanese on the box, but it'll look neat when it's done based of the pictures." Dell informed his boyfriend as Medic snuggles closer to listen to the Engineer tell him about his latest project. "This piece is gonna be one of the arms and it bends like this so you can pose it and change out the hands. And this is gonna be the leg."

"Can I stay and vatch vhile you vork?"

"Of course, moon pie!"

Ludwig pulls a stool over behind Dell so he can stay in his current position arms wrapped around the engineer sinking slightly into his plush yet muscular tummy and rest his head on his lover's strong shoulder.

The symphony of click and tinks resumed as Dell settled into a new rythmn of work. The sound of Engie and Medic quietly talking, giggling, or just enjoying the intoxicating calmness together.

Ludwig watches Dell's hands deftly click the plastic pieces together. He marvels at the precise and delicate movement of the gunslinger. The same robotic hand capable of crushing bone and tearing metal also able to pick up fragile things with ease truly is one of the greatest miracles the Medic has ever seen. He can't help and feel so much love when with Dell. He could just...

"Gah! Ludwig, did you just bite me?" Engineer cried out grabbing the side of his neck.

"I couldn't help it." Medic chuckled "You looked so perfect and it's so cozy. I had to bite."

"You're lucky I love you, moon pie"

"I know. Love you too leibe"

Dell refocuses as a faint set of teeth marks bloom on his skin.

tink tink tink clunk

tink tink clunk

tink tink tink clunk

click click click

click click

clunk

"Leibschen you put the thing on upside down."

"Are you sure? this looks right, dumplin'."

"Look at the picture the angular part of the kidney shaped piece should be pointing towards that half frisbee piece on the big piece"

Dell picks up the instructions and squints closely at them. Ludwig reaches his hand over and turns the upside down instructions right side up.

"Oooooooh. I see what you mean"

clunk click claclunk

"Thank you, sweetie"

tink tink clunk

tink tink tink clunk

click click

"Finally finished" Engie and Medic look at the little robot model in all its completed glory. The small figurine shined in the now brighter lit room each piece sanded perfect and each sticker placed precisely. The angular crimson robot sported a long bazooka in one hand and a clenched fist on the other arm. The sleek robot stands posed with one fist raised triumphantly.

"Let me try" Medic gently picks up the robot model and begins to fiddle with it. He pops out the gun hand and puts in a fist. He bends one leg while straightening the other completely. The arms are folded in front of it. After, carefully balancing the model on the table. Medic reveals the robot in a Katosky Kick. Dell and Ludwig chuckle looking at the cutely posed robot. They look at each other. Such a nice moment together. Engie leans forward and kisses Medic lovingly.

"Thank you for spendin' time with me, darlin'." Dell cooed warmly, "havin' company really made my mornin'." He gently places a hand on Medic's cheek and strokes it with his thumb.

Medic places a hand over Engie's. "Of course, my bärchen. I couldn't think of a better way to spend my morning."

Dell and Ludwig bask in each in this moment. Engie looks at his lover and sees the passionate and ambitious doctor he always fell for and keeps falling for every day. Medic sees the strong and beautiful inventor that fought to be here in more ways than one.

"Now vhat?"

"I don't know. Wanna go make a real robot?"

"I've got the perfect spider monkey brain I've been saving for a rainy day!" Medic squealed "You get the supplies. I'll get the brain and bring it back here" Medic planted a hard kiss on Engie's temple before running off.

[fridgrave2-0]

OKAY AND YOURE GONNA JUST LEAVE ME IN A CLIFFHANGER LIKE THAT? LIKE, WTF. WHAT HAPPENS NEXT? IM SO ENTRALLED

HAHA SORRY I was trying to write the most important parts before I had to go to work

so, basically calhoun saves turbo from cybugs in this moment and he glitches out from her to hide in some crack with an aid kit he found. he genuinely believes that he just caused hero's duty to be unplugged, so he stays there willing to go down with the game like he "should've done before". while he tried to heal his arm with the aid kit, but soon he realized that it won't work

he spends there whole day, scared to close his eyes because when he does, he sees the green glowing mouths. being surrounded by the cybugs was a nightmare come true. because if they are him, he would've turn into a monster again and hurt tamora. tamora, who would've seen him being eaten

tamora finds him when the arcade's closed. she reassures him that hero's duty is fine and that the player freaked out about hurting her "favorite npc" more than the fact that he reacted out of game's limits. turbo is still shocked when she brings him to felix, and he doesn't speak much when she tells her husband what happened to turbo

felix couldn't fix his arm with his hammer. direct actions from players impact the characters differently, and without his game and his codebox it was just a matter of time when he'd get damaged beyond fixing. but he's okay with it, he's smart and can figure something out. a prosthetic arm, perhaps. but calhoun and felix feel bad about this, they feel guilty, and turbo hates it. because it was his decision to be in hero's duty, he knew the risks and lived like that for 15 years in sugar rush when each and every one of the races could've been his last. he got used to the adrenaline, to the feeling of constant danger. he had his game only for seven years, not even a half of his lifetime, and accepted the fact that he may die any day. and he lived so, like every day was his last, taking everything what was given to him

he loved every moment he spent with felix and tamora, it was the best time of his life, but he couldn't just sit in his new little house during daytime, waiting patiently for his partners while they do what they were programmed for. something that turbo took away from himself, something that he tried to replace with sugar rush, but the price of that was too high. vanellope didn't deserve any of this, turbo twins didn't deserve any of this, the characters of roadblasters didn't deserve any of this. all turbo wanted is to be a part of a game again, to be needed and not feeling so useless and helpless, but with another try he once again hurted the people he cared about

he glitched away from the niceland when he realized, that he was yelling all this at tamora and felix. they already felt guilty, he didn't want their pity as well. turbo found himself in sugar rush, and the fear of seeing vanellope or ralph was like a hold on his throat. so he moved to a place where no one would think to look

it was warm inside the mountain, wet and hard to breathe. being in this place again was strangely calming, memories of burning alive didn't feel so painful anymore. maybe that's because he went through much worse this day, he couldn't tell

he just wanted to stay alone for some time, think a little about everything, but apparently it was never meant to be. he was looking at his blurred reflection in dark brown liquid when a claw reached out for him out of the cola and tried to drag him down

turbo glitched out of this grasp only to see himself rising from the lava. a giant figure of king candy — a cybug mutant — had rise above him

[commanderbuffy]

Heart’s Canyon: Chapter *redacted* Snippet

Jade curls up in the plush chair, but despite the backlight built into her Kindle, she isn’t reading. She keeps her eyes trained just above the device. Looking into the kitchen at her girls…at her daughter and her ex. Her friend.

Kit pushes the bag of sugar across the counter that Pia is almost completely on top of, sock-clad feet just barely brushing the top of the stool.

As the sun sets, Kit is lit in a fading orange glow and the lantern flashlights illuminate Pia’s hair in a way that makes it look comically orange in those perfectly crafted braids.

Kit helps Pia level out the cup of sugar and dumps it into the mixing bowl before sliding the flour across the counter.

Jade tries not to think about the fact that it isn’t just breakfast for dinner. It might be for Pia, but not for Kit. It never was for Kit.

Kit’s dad had promised to teach Kit how to cook. It was supposed to be every Sunday, something to give Kit something to do, to keep her from going crazy antsy.

She hadn’t had friends to burn energy off with. Not in middle school. Not before they met.

But that first lesson, making pancakes had been the last. Pancakes. The only meal Kit ever learned to make. Her happiest meal. When they were together, Kit would often tell Jade that she felt closest to her dad making pancakes.

Pia lets out a loud giggle as Kit flicks a bit of flour on her face.

“It’s a critical step to pancake making,” the woman deadpans. “You gotta get a bit messy.”

Taking that as a challenge, Pia takes a large pinch of flour and flicks it back at Kit in return.

Jade tries, and fails, to control her own laugh. Across the room, Kit’s eyes dart up to meet hers, as if she’d forgotten that Jade was in the room with them. She offers Jade a soft smile. And…fuck.

[emmettverhoogen]

Beatrice pushed the photos towards Ernest and Ernest left the fork with a piece of the root beer float pie on the plate almost immediately, instead picking up the photo with curiosity to look at it and absorb everything.

“A little bird said you would like it,” she said with a soft, discreet smile. Ernest felt as if it were Kit speaking through her voice something Dewey would say if he were there. He didn’t even notice the equally soft and discreet smile that had formed on his lips as he gave Beatrice a quick glance before turning back to the photographs.

The woman in the first photo was very beautiful, a remarkable woman, with a gentle smile and an expensive and elegant costume, highly fashionable as he remembered that Beatrice was—the one from the past, at least. She was elegantly holding a glass with one hand and pointing toward the camera with the other as if to catch the attention from the man next to her. That was Bertrand. He looked surprised, but happy, too, with his eyebrows raised behind his glasses and a more open smile than Beatrice’s as he had one hand behind his back and the other waving at the camera awkwardly. He had a mustache grown specifically for a character, Ernest recalled. The play was alright, though his character was more of a buffoon than a hero.

The other photo was older, worn out. It was a shame that the cameras were not colored back then. Beside an energetic Bertrand, there was a man who, if anyone else looked, would assume it was Frank or Ernest—it was Dewey, hiding half his face with a book. It was from when they were younger, since Bertrand’s hair was more voluminous and longer than in the first photo. He had his lips open in a smile that showed all his teeth, so happy, so innocently noble, with eyes almost squinting but full of glow. Ernest sighed and blinked successively, deep down hoping that photo would suddenly come to life and he’d be able to say again, “No one can recognize this place, Dewey. When you take another photo, don’t hide your face behind a book!”

Ernest put the photos back on the table and went back to eating the pie. “If I ask you pretty please with sugar on top, will you tell me how or with whom you get these photos?”

“No,” Beatrice said.

“Does it have anything to do with those maps and letters in your file folder?” Ernest asked, and Beatrice and Frank looked up at him.

“No, either,” she said. “Not necessarily. I would appreciate it if you didn’t peek at my stuff again.”

“She’s been growing up,” Frank murmured, finishing chewing his piece of pie. “She no longer needs our care.”

“I’m sorry,” Ernest said, sincerely. He did had become fond of her, and cared about her talking and traveling to places with any adult supervision. But it was also curiosity, simple and pure curiosity to know how she could be as skilled and intelligent and free as Kit without having grown up in a solid residence with her, for obvious reasons. Ernest was sure Dewey would understand him.

“When it’s time I’ll tell you everything,” Beatrice said calmly, scraping her fork to eat the rest of the pie.

[the-otherspace]

I guess this is where I'm putting my speculative biology art and worldbuilding stuff at the moment. I made a little freak.

These are called "born-warriors" as part of the mole cats universe and they couldn't be more different than the mole cats.

A long time ago, a young mole cat saw what it described as "an enormous monster that could walk on its hands and eat poison", which is what he told his clan members. From then on, sightings of the beasts kept coming up, so it was time for the mole cats to adapt to a mostly subterranean lifestyle. They dug burrows and stayed well away from the trees, feeding on mushrooms and burrowing invertebrates. Children were told to stay away from the trees and from the territories these monsters roamed or else they may get eaten. The monsters can be seen in a lot of artwork, usually tall and shadowy with glowing eyes.

What the mole cat in this story saw, though, was an arboreal and equally intelligent being who must have looked massive compared to the young kit. The beings were named "born-warriors" by the mole cats because they could take down massive grazers for meat a lot more easily, given their treetop vantage point and muscular upper body.

Where did the young mole cat come up with "It eats poison", you might ask? Born-warriors enjoy a diet of mostly fruit, which is made of sugar that mole cats can't taste. While sugar can't really harm a mole cat, it certainly doesn't taste great as a chemical compound!

The unique feature of the born-warriors, besides their fused bottom jaw (compared to the split bottom jaws mole cats have), is their preferred locomotion. They walk on a pair of muscular arms while their feet, delicate and dexterous, remain off the ground. The extra joint in their legs help them fold these legs and tuck them in close to their bodies. The feet have more digits than the hands, which have pads to help their grip. Their tails are prehensile, allowing them to hang from the trees and throw hunting spears from above. When communicating over long distances, they can inflate a sack in their chest to help carry the sound - this sound is a sharp whooping cry that can be heard for miles.

The entire world I'm building here now has two clades: One with the split bottom jaw (mole cats, grazing beasts, burrowing invertebrates, and similar ground-dwelling species) and the fused bottom jaw (born-warriors, gliding animals, flying animals, and most other species that can climb trees.) What I'll do with marine life, I've yet to decide. It all depends on where the marine life originated.

I have no plans for their culture or language yet. I just really wanted to draw one of these knuckle-walking freaks while I still had a good image in my head. I need to fix up the body so that it looks like it's balancing better. The tail is an iffy detail and had been added sloppily as a last-minute idea. I may allow it to curl up and stay close to the body. Otherwise, it may weigh the body down too much in the back. I'm not sure how this kind of thing works but I'm trying!

The feet-as-hands and hands-as-feet idea came from @jayrockin and their avians, which walk on their hands and use their feet for dexterity-dependent tasks.

[louisetaylor]

The novel we all need:

Beatrice's 200-page novel/letter to Lemony containing all of the many reasons why she can't marry him. The darkly elegant turn-of-the-century opera/ballet/high-society vibes of Lemony, Beatrice, Esme, Jerome, Kit, Jacques, and perhaps Olaf, all scheming and murdering and flirting in The Unnamed Big City.

Cab rides fraught with menace and apprehension, with Jacques whistling up in front as he drives. Beatrice narrating everything with a grief (and loquacity) similar to Lemony's, but looking toward the future rather than the past. Sometimes she writes "a word which here means" because Lemony says it so often. Food and fire as recurring themes. Beatrice might have an unnerving attraction to fire...and one instance of intentional fire-setting because she knows two instances would legally make her a pyromaniac.

Her uncertainty between Lemony and Bertrand, two very different men who are equally pretentious in different ways (and subtly fight over her in Clever Verbal Skirmishes, which she loves). The whole story taking place in the melodramatic atmosphere of the opera, perhaps divided into acts. Brief arias of soliloquy from Beatrice, letters from Lemony (!!!) and her friendship with the mysterious Duchess R of Winnipeg. GORGEOUS clothes on absolutely everyone.

Lemony and Beatrice bonding over their love of root beer floats, not to mention questioning the whole system of V.F.D. thinking violence is never acceptable and the world should always be quiet. I've always wondered why Beatrice chose Bertrand over Lemony, and if she really loved Lemony more. LEMONY COOKING FOR BEATRICE AT 2 AM IN HER APARTMENT AFTER A SHOW. Lemony crying on her shoulder at the bitterness of the world, disapproving of her preference for sweet milky tea. Bertrand symbolizing fire (candles, chandeliers in operas and restaurants), and Lemony symbolizing water (rain, the sea, lunch at Briny Beach, splashing with her in the fountain).

The fated tea party, the friendship turned simmering rivalry between Esme and Beatrice, the theft of the sugar bowl when Beatrice finally turns her back on Esme. Kit's subtle glances at Olaf, who's still young and kind and handsome and full of hope and mischief, even though he's a bit of a jerk. Kit believes in him. Everyone else just believes in Kit. Jacques flirting with anything in a skirt just because he likes making people blush and giggle.

The denouement is the grand opera where Beatrice's performance is followed by the death of Olaf's father and the breaking of the fellowship.

Notes in the margins written by Lemony and punctuated by tear stains.

At the end of the book, she quotes Robert Frost. "Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire."

After the quotation, Lemony writes "She burned too bright for this world" from Wuthering Heights, which she loved.

Perhaps the overall meaning of the book could be that Beatrice (a name which here means "she who brings happiness") loves Lemony, and always will, because he symbolizes grief and lost love and wishing for the safe childhood that none of them ever had. But Lemony is the past, and Bertrand is the future. Beatrice has always been surrounded by people who wrote and spoke and sang of the beauty of grief, the glory of sadness. But Beatrice couldn't help holding a happiness as deep as grief. She loves dark stories and art as much as anyone (she's an opera singer, after all) but she's hungry for happiness.

And she had happiness with Lemony when he gave her food, when he hugged her and told her all the ways he would love her, when he played the accordion so well it made her cry. The manuscript is stained with her tears too. She needs to make people happy, and as much as Lemony loved her, she could never make him happy. He saw and adored her deep capacity for happiness, but he couldn't receive it. Like Dante, he admired Beatrice's glow from afar. Now he descends into the inferno, where his angel can't go with him.

The novel is perhaps named A Series of Fortunate Events. Because they all happened with him at her side. Although she has to leave him, she mourns for him, for his endless wandering on the run, and never regrets the time she spent with him. She finally learned to see herself as he always saw her--a beacon of light and warmth who held all the friends together, even as the times grew dark and the force of destiny worked on them all.

Perhaps it was really Beatrice who symbolized fire all the time, not Bertrand. Lemony was water, and water smothers fire and dims its light. But Bertrand might symbolize air. Bertrand might be a fresh breath of air on Mount Fraught, liking the outdoors more than Lemony, making mischievous jokes with Olaf, slurping loudly from a straw while Lemony does a Dramatic Philosophical Monologue, meeting her on windy streets with newspapers (articles written by Lemony) blowing around their feet. Bertrand pining in the background as Lemony kisses Beatrice's hand. She feels more alive and awake with Bertrand. Water reflects fire, but air feeds it.

The whole novel contains foreshadowing of all the unfortunate events to come, some of the references quite clever and amusing even as they break your heart. But one comes away from the book with a sense that though Beatrice was always doomed to die...she LIVED. The book must be warm and full of life, contrasting the books about her children in a world that is often too cold and too quiet. The world is too quiet without her. But it's not a sad ending. Because she left a legacy of warmth and hope and love. Lemony wrote the children's stories for her sake, because he loved her and remembered her.

He loved her for her fiery happiness, even as she loved him for his grief and vulnerability. In the scene where Lemony confesses his love for Beatrice, a moth flies into the candle on the table between them, symbolic of Lemony wishing his heart out to be with her warmth, even as it doomed him to exile in a cold and quiet world.

But even this is not the end. Because someday, after Beatrice and Lemony have had their say, young Beatrice Baudelaire II will drop a note through the ceiling of Lemony's office, and the old Beatrice somehow gave Lemony a child to love and take care of, in a strange and roundabout way.

Edit: Allusions to heaven and hell throughout the work, hell being the arson perpetrated by the Bad Guys, and purgatory being the wide empty hinterlands that lie outside the city. Lemony chooses to stay in hell to help the unfortunate people in it, making him a bit of a Christ figure. Bertrand climbing his way up out of hell and reaching for the heaven of a safe home and family. Beatrice symbolizing an angel who fell, or was pushed, from heaven a long time ago and being a bit of a Christ figure herself for going deep into Lemony's sadness and understanding him, thus saving him even as he saves her.

[infinite-riches]

Bright Lights & Dark Spaces

Summary: “Bad morning?” Price’s motions closely mirror those of Ghost’s from mere moments before, not phased by the Brit’s harsh attitude this morning.

“From the moment I opened my eyes…” Ghost mumbles, lifting the fabric of his mask to take a sip of his favorite blend.

Or: Ghost has a headache and Soap knows just how to help.

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Simon "Ghost" Riley

Word Count: 1297

Warnings: none :)

A/N: So I may or may not be dabbling with the idea of turning this into something more...? Thoughts?

This lovely one-shot was inspired by this prompt from a member of the CoD babygirls server, much love to them!! <3

And as always feel free to leave feedback/constructive criticism <3

AO3 Link (if you prefer): Bright Lights & Dark Spaces

The sharp ray of light slipping beneath the bottom of the blinds was enough to signal to Ghost that it would be one of those days. The otherwise silent room was only filled with a soft huff and his bare feet making contact with the cold tile floor. No need to turn any light on, the offending ray of light being more than enough to illuminate the small space in a dim yellow glow. 

Hands immediately reached for the well-used and loved pot of eyeblack, muscle memory taking over. Black cream smeared against pale skin, a familiar feeling and borderline necessary practice these days. Just for good measure, a few painkillers are tossed back, knowing today won’t be easy. 

The worn balaclava is next, pulled securely over his head, hiding pale skin and soft blonde locks. Gentle pressure from the fabric eases the discomfort slightly but it's no use against the headache already blooming behind his eyes. 

With a frustrated grumble instincts take over, clothes and gear slipping into place mechanically, as had been ingrained in him so long ago. The last movement before the door is to grab the deep red sunglasses that had become one of the most important pieces of his kit. 

Opening the door allows the offending fluorescent light to spill into his private quarters, immediately eliciting a grimace from the large Brit. The glasses slip easily over his eyes and mask making the light slightly more tolerable. 

He trudges through the halls, irritation rolling off him in waves, rookies practically jumping aside as he makes a beeline for the 141 rec room. He can’t help but be grateful when he takes note that the small, private space is empty, immediately flicking one of the light switches off so the room is half as obnoxiously bright. 

His attention is now fully focused on the well-used and abused electric kettle. With precise motions the kettle is filled and set to boil as Ghost grabs his much-loved mug from the cabinet, followed by a bag of his favorite tea and two anticipatory sugar cubes. The beeping of the kettle rings sharp before he quickly snatches the handle and fills the mug, leaving the rest of the hot water for whichever of his teammates appears later.

The door to the room is pushed open, Ghost’s head snapping to the sound, eyes locked on the hand hovering above the light switch. 

“Price… don’t,” it's a firm warning with no malice behind it, Price nodding quickly in understanding. 

“Bad morning?” Price’s motions closely mirror those of Ghost’s from mere moments before, not phased by the Brit’s harsh attitude this morning. 

“From the moment I opened my eyes…” Ghost mumbles, lifting the fabric of his mask to take a sip of his favorite blend. 

“Well the good news is that I haven’t received a call from Laswell about that intel, means you should be able to hole up in your office if need be…” the older man gives the younger a sympathetic nod, having been aware of the light sensitivity and subsequent headaches for a while now. 

“Morning boys- interruptin’ something?” Soap teasingly wagged his eyebrows at the two older men. “Should I leave? Maybe put a sock on the door?” A light laugh left his lips as he flicked the other switch on. Ghost grimaced again, grip tightening on his mug ever so slightly. 

“M’ gonna go work on those reports, Captain,” Ghost pushed himself off the counter he was leaning against, giving both Price and Soap nods before he was out the door.

-----

The day passed agonizingly slow, headache persisting no matter his efforts. Blinds closed tight, shade pulled over the glass panel on the door, nothing but the small desk lamp on to illuminate the space. He had even opted to print the reports and notate them by hand to avoid the glaring computer screen, much to no avail. The soft knock on the door shook him from his thoughts, a confused look crossing his face.

“LT?” A brief pause from the Scot. “It’s me…” A grunt from Ghost was all the signal Soap needed to quickly slip inside and shut the door. He stood, opposite from Ghost, planted on the other side of the desk.

“I uhh…” Soap sheepishly shrugged. “Brought a few things that I thought might help…” He gently set the small collection of things down on his superior’s desk, including a fresh mug of his favorite tea. “Don’t know what exactly’s goin’ on but thought some of this might be worth a shot…” 

The front of the desk was now covered in a small smattering of things Soap thought might help with his LT’s headache– painkillers, bottle of water, hot and cold compresses– it was obvious Soap had more of a hunch than he was letting on.

“Soap…” Ghost’s voice was soft as he looked expectantly to the Scot for an explanation.

“Ma sister, she had migraines when we were growin’ up… looked like you did in the rec this mornin’…” 

“And you…?” Ghost’s eyes scanned over the things Soap had brought, not ungrateful for the gesture but slightly frustrated at the sight of methods already well tested.

“Got damn good at takin’ care of her… always preferred me massagin’ her scalp though..” Soap chuckled at the memory, a slight blush overtaking his cheeks as he realized the slight overshare. Ghost however seemed more intrigued than not, bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he thought.

“Guess I best be leavin’ you, know that my yappin’ might not-” Soap stopped, already having taken a step towards the door.

“Johnny…” Ghost took a slow breath, steeling his nerves, preparing to cross a line neither of them ever had before. “Would you… would you be willing to try?”

Soap looked the older man over, eyes clearly showing desperation and fatigue, sunglasses discarded long ago. “You sure, LT?”

All it took was a single nod from Ghost for Soap to be behind the man, watching as Ghost slowly lifted the mask up and off his head, blonde locks spilling out, a warm honey color in the dim light. Neither man could ignore the way their hearts fluttered, the soft intimacy of the moment overwhelming but the start of something each had dreamt about for ages. 

Soap gently slid his fingers along the top of Ghost’s head, soft curls brushing against his skin. Using small circular strokes and medium pressure the Scot worked his way across the other man’s scalp, smiling with pride as he watched the tension in Ghost’s shoulders slowly dissipate. 

A soft moan escaped Ghost, so quiet Soap almost missed it, but Ghost was immediately adjusting himself in the chair, posturing a bit to hide his embarrassment. Eventually, Ghost had all but melted into the chair, eyes shut, breathing slow and steady.

“Still alive down there, LT?” there was a light laugh to Soap’s words as he noticed Ghost stir, almost as if he had been about to fall asleep.

“I…” Ghost paused, mulling over his words for a moment, choosing to hold back what he really wanted to say. “Thank you…”

“No need to mention it, LT– you’ve saved my ass more times than I can count, the least I can do to pay you back…” Soap had taken a small step to the side, eyes scanning the rare sight of his Lieutenant's bare face.

Ghost quickly reached out, hand coming to rest on Soap’s hip, eyes tracing up his form till beautiful pools of blue were staring back at him. “I can’t thank you enough, Johnny… best I’ve felt in a while…”

“Course handsome…” Soap said with a wink, leaning down to place a flirty kiss on Ghost’s cheek before he moved to the door. “Couldnae ever say no to you…”

[your-local-uwu-artist]

HELLAO how about 6, 14, 15, and 25 for the Kirby OC ask game!!! :D

🗣️: If you could cast a voice actor to voice your OC who would you choose?

tbh I havn't really been able to nail a voice-claim/hc down for Button. Though I def think he would have a more masculine-sounding voice, but with some sort of quick to it (like being raspy or squeaky) the only thing I know for sure is he needs like, a loser white guy voice.... if that makes literally any sense

also I think they have the vibe of a character whos eng and jp voices are very different but somehow both work equally very well (like calcifur and meowth, both of those have very different directions taken with their voices but both work in the same way somehow??)

ummm some potential candidates are Charlie Day, Jack McBrayer, maybe Jason Ritter? Daniel thrasher has never voice acted but he's def a candidate

for jp something similar to either Nate's pkmn masters jp voice, or like, something very raspy and mascot-character esque

14. 🍱: If your OC had a dish themed around them at the Kirby Cafe, what would it be?

hmm I'm not sure? this isn't really my area of expertise: here's some random ideas tho~

-apple pie flavored waffle? shaped like a star of course

-little button shaped sugar cookies?

-half chocolate half vanilla cupcake? to represent the angel+demon thing, combine it with the sugar cookies maybe? have two of them decorated like his eyes mayhaps?

-apparently there is a way to make drinks glow in the dark but it requires a black light so dead end :(

-mac n cheese, idk how to make it cute but it needs to be involved

-wait! idea: pretzel shaped like a lyra?

15. 🧸: If your OC had any merchandise themed around them, what would it be?

now this one is actually right in my area of expertise I love toy design

for some less simple things:

one of those little craft kits that gives you the supplies to make something simple like a felt plush sewn together with yarn, you could sew a little small star-button billow, and a little kirby plush and the aesthetic is all Button themed. Or maybe a a friendship bracelet craft kit? there's a lot of potential craft kits what with being from patch land

or maybe a merry magoland themed re-ment set that features a little Button working a booth

or you know those little keychain plushies?

dude I could design these ALL DAY

hell I've thought a lot about button merch just with what I could feasibly make happen. Button acryllic charms? Button buttons? a Button themed candy bag keychain? those keychains with the little magnet heart accesories? I could do that with Button and characters he's shipable with. standee with tail wag? glow in the dark standee and the stand part is a magic circle? button enamel pins? button ACRYLIC PINS?

25. ⭐️: If your OC got their own spinoff game what would it be about and what would the gameplay be like?

a few ideas!

-epic yarn style! the story line is Button learns about Kirby's Magic sock and decides to visit home~

-game where you sail across the sea!!! Meta Knight wants you to collect a special flower that only grows on this one island, he's too busy with meta knight stuff to get it himself. So he has sent Button on this fetch quest. i guess you could make it into a platformer, but maybe it could be like a minigame collection? that would involve things like puzzle games to figure out navigation. or upkeep/tidying around the boat. maybe there could be 'events', like finding a waddle dee lost at sea and bringing them home. or needing to fix the boats engine

-prequel game of one of Button's journey's during angst-era. platformer but with a lot of puzzle aspects implemented

-if you wanted a more epic quest with co-op modes and all maybe Button caught wind of some powerful magic source and is seeking it in hopes of restoring his Halo, and of course theres a positive message in the end where no Button doesn't get his halo back but he got his Self worth back or smth. (the true halo was the friends we made along the way I guess) would still want puzzle aspects implemented

-game where kirby and co is on vacation but danger strikes and Button, Magolor, Taranza, and Marx has to take the place of Kirby and co.

-unrelated but take a moment to imagine Merry Magoland but with Button around doing his job. Imagine a special animation of them being shocked when the player gets a high score or smth

[kits-shrine]

Soft green eyes darted around like she couldn't decide where she wanted to look as one of her hands sought out Seishin’s, and the other clung to Ginko’s yukata, “I caused everyone trouble a-again, didn't I?” Ziz panted before quietly asking if the trade worked.

Ingall gave a sigh of relief as he squeezed Kit’s shoulder.

"No more than our hot headed brother." Ginko murmured hugging her close.

His hands were occupied pressing to his aching chest. "oh sugar... why'dya care so little about yurself?" Seishin asked achingly honing in that her questions had no care for herself.

"What in Stars name happened?!" Tamashii bite out as he stopped abruptly beside them depositing Ally on her feet and quickly plucking Seishin up into his arms. His tone had none of his usual peaked interest for the unusual Soul activity around them but a no nonsense harshness as his eyes glowed and he laid a hand over Seishin's chest and continued markedly more calmly "Shhh easy... easy little brother." Kit tucked Touma's face on her shoulder using Ingall to help add an additional wall between whatever drama seemed to be going down now.

[sojutsu]

Unwrapped Memories

Happy holidays, @ant1-leigh! I was your Secret Santa for this amazing exchange, and I hope I did your prompts justice. I used "Vincent/Lovely, Christmas presents, something Christmas related". I hope you enjoy!

And a HUGE thank you to @the-sugar-crash for putting this on!

“Annnnd.... There!  All done!”  Lovely dusted their hands off as they admired their handiwork, the soft glow of Christmas lights illuminating the living room in steady pulses of light.

Vincent had given them free rein to decorate the house, and they took that privilege and ran with it.  Garland on the mantle.  The biggest tree they could fit in the corner, decked out in white and colored lights, dependent on the mood.  Tinsel.  Shiny snowflakes on the windows.  The place looked like a veritable winter wonderland... except for the stockings, which looked slightly off-center now that Lovely was examining them. 

As if mocking them and their Christmas spirit.

Unacceptable.

“And not a moment too soon.  It’s already...“ Vincent checked the non-existent watch on his wrist, a smile evident in his voice, “...two minutes into December.  We almost missed it.”

His deep chuckle reverberated thru their back as he came up behind them, wrapping his arms around their waist and slotting his head onto their shoulder.  The kiss he pressed to their temple was comforting as they micro-managed the exact angle of the wayward stocking back into place.

“Well yeah, but... now we get to appreciate them all month long.  December goes really quickly, and I... I don’t want to miss any of it.”  They received an amused hum in response, turning in his grasp to face him.  “Maybe I’ll start right after Halloween, next year.  After all, it’s the best season!  Hands down.”

This was going to be perfect, they promised themselves amidst Vincent’s non-committal hum, sealing it with a peck to his cheek.

After everything that had happened in the past year, it had to be perfect.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This was as far from perfect as you could get.

Lovely did not know what to get Vincent, and the first week of December had already flown by.

What did you get someone who had the ability to buy a fleet of expensive cars?  Lovely wasn’t rich, and besides, whatever Vincent wanted he just bought.    

It was still early in the month. 

They had time. 

But it still felt wrong. 

After all, they’d already picked out gifts for most of their friends, the items wrapped and sitting patiently beneath their tree until it was time to hand them out.  People they didn’t know as well as they knew their charming, considerate, and extremely thoughtful boyfriend.  The person who mattered the most to them by a large margin. 

Someone they loved. 

So why couldn’t they think of something for Vincent?

(“Is it that surprisin’ you’re havin’ a hard time?” Sam had asked them on their way to a Clan meeting when they voiced their concern.  Vincent was taking care of an errand for William and would meet them there.

“Well, yeah... a little bit.  Nothing seems good enough, y’know?”

Sam had laughed like he was in on a joke, soft and non-judgemental, but Lovely didn’t know which one.

“I’ll bet.  You’ll figure it out, don’t you worry.”)

But they hadn’t.  And they did. 

That was how they ended up sitting at the kitchen table, laptop open in front of them and cookies baking in the oven, scouring the holiday sites full of deals and looking for inspiration.  Any inspiration.

Clothing.  Electronics.  Decor.

Nothing jumped out at them.  Nothing sparked an idea. 

Nothing was good enough. 

Lovely could tell they were at their wit's end because they finally Googled, ‘What to buy your vampire lover?’.  The screen's bright light blinked to life with a strange offering as their salvation: a vampire hunting kit.  And to their chagrin, and possibly telling just how lost they were, they actually gave it a modicum of thought before shaking their head with a sigh.

Maybe they should go the cheesy route and just put a bow on themself and sit below the tree.

......

No.

Vincent could have them whenever he wanted, so that wasn’t special either.

“Lovely?  Are you home?” Vincent's voice carried as the front door shut, the sound masking the thud of the laptop's lid as they closed it in defeat.

They had time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Time was running out.

That’s what Lovely told themself as mid-month rolled around, and they still hadn’t thought of a respectable gift for Vincent.

They’d admit to there being a few leaps of logic in between, but it was also how they found themself putting the last few pieces of tape back on rewrapped presents, sliding them back under the bed as if they hadn’t just snooped.

To be fair, Lovely was a snoop.

But really, didn’t it just mean that their gifts weren’t well hidden if they could find them so easily?  Why wouldn’t they look under the bed that they shared together?  It was almost like Vincent didn’t know them at all!

Which was, of course, a lie.  Everything that they found was a thoughtful gift.

Their favorite body spray.  The one that just so happened to be the one Vincent loved on them the most.  They’d worn it on every date night since he’d told them, and their bottle was near empty by now.

A Dahlia School of Elemental & Energetic hoodie that had their E&E participation number and final placement embroidered below the school insignia.  There were symbols of the main 8 classifications going up the arms, elements on one arm and energetics on the other, with their previous electro-energetic symbol dyed their favorite color amidst the white of the rest.

There were even some fancy chocolates that they’d hesitated on returning to their hiding space, considering Lovely knew they were to die for from prior experience.

Thankfully not literally, although that wasn’t really a problem anymore.  And that was okay.  They had worked hard at it, but they finally cherished the life they could build with Vincent forever.  They just had to show him how much he meant to them. 

But if anything good came from unearthing their gifts early, it was that they thought they finally knew what to get him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Vincent, it’s lovely!!  And I swear that isn’t a pun.  You’d know if it was,” they leaned forward on the couch they shared, giving him a quick kiss he returned with equal measure, as they held their new E&E hoodie protectively between them both.  “I love it!” 

“You might have a different set of powers now, but I hope it reminds you of how much determination you have and not something...”

“I love it,” they repeated, sensing the war within Vincent.  But they meant it, and they refused to let any guilt seep into the joyous occasion.  “I worked really hard on my powers back then, and you better believe I’ll master these ones given enough time.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

There was a moment of contented silence as they gazed at each other.  It didn’t last long, not wanting to dwell on any negative thoughts that Vincent might find himself in, and they reached below the tree to grab their gift for him.

“Okay, okay, enough of that!  My turn next!” Lovely knew that if they still had their powers, they’d be literally buzzing with excitement.  They held out a small, meticulously wrapped package to Vincent, reds and golds shining in the tree light as soft Christmas music played in the background as ambient noise.  “I really hope you like it.”

“Anything from you is a gift I’ll cherish.”

That sap earned him a gentle smack to the arm, and his laugh filled the air.  “Just open it!”

Vincent carefully popped the bow off of the top, handing it to Lovely with a quiet, “Hold this for me.”  He slid slender fingers under the tape to release it, allowing the moment to draw out, and Lovely is sure he was trying to torture them with how slow he was going.  Their suspicions were confirmed as they glimpse the corners of his mouth twitching.

“I know how fast you can open things when you want them open, Vincent.  Hurry up!”

“Okay, okay!” His laugh is genuine as he drops the discarded paper to the floor with the rest, finally giving in.  He pulls out a key and holds it between them, a question in his eyes.

“No, I didn’t buy you a car before you ask.  But...” at this, Lovely turns the key over in his palm so that the name of William’s business faces up.  “I booked us a week at William’s cabin we loved, and he agreed to give you the time off to enjoy it,” they hold up their hand as he parts his lips to speak, wanting to give their reasoning in case he found it offensive.  “This past year has been really... difficult, and sometimes it feels like our good memories get tainted because of... everything that’s happened, whether we want them to or not.  I don’t want that.  I just want us to make more memories with each other because you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.  And I want you to remember that.”

Lovely is quiet afterward.  They know they are, because they can feel Vincent’s loving gaze on them as they find great interest in the floor.  Now that it’s out in the open, it sounds stupid.  Even when he takes their hand in his, they have second thoughts.  “Is that stupid of me?  Was it a dumb gift?”

“Lovely,” he tips their head to look at him, gently takes the bow from their hands and puts it on their head, “You are the only thing I wanted for Christmas.  Here, in my arms.  Everything else was a bonus.  But, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to create happy memories, and I’d love to do that with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

Strong arms wrapped around them as if he could instill the truth of his words into them.  Lovely locked their arms around him in return before whispering into the space between them.  “You’re really hard to buy for, you know that?  I swear I was going crazy trying to figure out what to get you.”

“Oh?  Is that why you unwrapped your gifts early?  To give you an idea?”

Their head snapped up, wide eyes and open mouth the epitome of ‘deer-in-headlights’.  Lovely wanted to shake their head, to deny, but things didn’t work like that anymore as their bond denied them their lie.

“You know... I expected you to snoop, Lovely.  There’s a reason one of your presents didn’t make it under the bed,” his amused expression only deepened their embarrassment.  In the interim, he pulled a small box from the coffee table drawer and its presentation almost made it too pretty to open.

Almost.

“....Oh.  I thought I was pretty sneaky about it, to be honest,” they at least had the presence of mind to look chagrined as they took the gift, popping the bow from its top and idly fingering the shiny paper.  “You’re not mad, are you?”

“Of course not.  If I wanted them to be kept a secret, I would’ve hidden them at Sam’s like I did this one.”

Lovely tucks that piece of information away for later as they let the paper slide to the floor.  The top of the box opens with a soft click of hinges, and a familiar insignia stares back at them.

“Is this...?”

“Yeah.  It is.”

They lift the necklace, the Solaire clan insignia rotating in the quiet of the moment before they place it in their palm for a better look.  Slotted in the center are two gems of different colors that shine with the aid of the Christmas tree lights, and Lovely feels their eyes grow wet with emotion. 

“I know birthstones are a thing, but... death day gems seemed more fitting.  After all, this is when you pledged yourself to us.  In... the most extreme way possible, but...” he fumbles his words before taking a breath, continuing as if he’d rehearsed each and every way they might’ve responded to such a gift. 

“This is a promise.  To better days.  Not allowing the past to dictate our future.  You’ve come such a long way Lovely, and it hasn’t always been easy,” his laugh is devoid of mirth, and Lovely slots their hand into his in reassurance.  “Far from it, in fact.  There’s been some pitfalls, and that’s to be expected.  But how far you’ve come in a year is nothing but extraordinary.  Like you.”

“I'm pretty sure nothing can really express what I want to say... but, I love it, Vincent.  And I love you.  Thank you for being on this journey with me, and I can’t wait to make new memories with you.”

There’s a breath of relief that they both share, and a kiss that leaves them breathless follows.  They touch foreheads and speak into the space between.

“Merry Christmas, Lovely.”

“Merry Christmas, Vincent.”

[colleenmurphy]

"There's a step here, Miss.."

He instructed with gentle ease as he guided her up the front steps of the rambling victorian she called home. He trailed off at her last name until he got the mailbox.

'Murphy'

Judging by the digs this fine upstanding young woman found herself the proprietress of the town Bed and Breakfast.

Either that or a she's a lone pea in a very large extra fancy can of peas.

He reasoned to himself as he guided her up onto the tidy enclosed porch. He liked the fact that she had her front door painted a very welcoming shade of Heritage Red.

The lanky dark haired green eyed woman all but hung off of him like a coat at this point. Mary Colleen Murphy had defended him to the very teeth against a pissy little fuck boy named Boyle? Bends? Ben-something. Michel Caffee never ever forgot a face in his life. That man was marked.

"Dibs."

He was semi startled as she fumbled to find her keys, leaning slightly against her. Her voice was husky from the joint they'd shared afterward with the cook and the bartender after the place quieted down. He was sporting a sliced left brow and he felt the forming of a black eye starting. Nothing Advil and time couldn't fix maybe a band aid or two.

"His name is Joel Benson. I call fucking dibs in parting him from this mortal coil."

She was warm and she smelled like warm lavender and honey and clean skin mixed with weed. Another sneaky sniff as she fumbled to get the key into the lock, an ancient skeleton key for her front door, and his head was reeling. It was almost like she could read his mind.

"You ever know your front step's loose?"

He ventured to her as the ancient front door creaked open.

"Oh yeah, I've been meaning to fix it but I've been a little busy trying to run the bar. I'm not home much. Not that it's..home."

He followed her inside and was pleasantly surprised to find a very welcoming front foyer. It was painted a deep shade of green.

"You know someone that does repairs? Handyman stuff? I can pay.."

She was leaning against the immaculately polished newel post studying him through semi hooded green eyes. He watched as her nimble fingers rolled a second joint for them to share. Part of her deal in him giving her a lift home.

"I could do it for you. I..I'm Mike Caffee...I've got a construction company."

A smile of recognition blossomed over her face, a truly enchanting sight if he was honest.

'Everybody goes on about how women glow like the sun but she's the fuckin' moon.'

He thought to himself as he watched her venture further down the tiny hallway connecting the kitchen to the dining area. She waited for him bathed in the light of the full moon. She was molten sterling silver darting along dusky blue velvet.

"Would you like a coffee or something? I've got wine, whisky, port."

"All that for the house?"

"Dad was a fanatic about the drink cart."

He understood.

"I'd love a beer if you have one."

A sly smile crept over her face as she crooked a finger for him to follow her out to the garage. In the clean startelingly white GE fridge was a six pack of Hamm's, the former man of the house's preferred beer during baseball games. Offering him one and raising it in cheers she motioned for him to follow her.

"Let me take a look at your eyebrow. I've got a first aid kit for this type of shit."

He felt himself being steered quite expertly by this mysterious mind reading woman.

"The green is called picholine if you'd like to know. I saw you looking before."

The hair on the back of his neck stood straight up again.

"Are you a fucking a mind reader or something lady?"

Holding out the joint to him as an olive branch he accepted just as she plopped him down into a captain's chair at the head of the old oak table.

"Something like that. I just feel like you and I have met before somehow. I've seen you around yes, but we didn't go to school together. We didn't grow up on the same street. But I can tell you that you like your coffee with one sugar and a splash of half and half. If you have to drink tea you take it builder's style. More milk and sugar than leaf water."

She shocked him into a silence so deep he could hear the hum of universe. Something told him she loved herbal teas and made her own. If she was ordering out it was earl grey with honey. She used Rose Milk lotion because her mother did. She misses her and the feeling is mutual. Her mother was built much like her, a dancer fluid and graceful no matter the circumstance.

"You use Rose Milk because your mother did."

"Touché, Mr. Caffee. Hold still, this is going to suck. Does it ease your mind to know that I used to be a nurse?"

A pop and a sting and his brow was numb. He felt a tugging as she worked. This was nothing new to him, he'd grown up a hoodlum in Rhode Island. He'd scrapped with his younger brother and Flannery boys from down the block. He'd had his head damn near stoved in by a pissy fisherman who had just been dumped by his girl. This was nothing new. The grey tiger tabby cat Mrs. Danvers, who had a bit of a pudge stared him down alongside a rather intimidating long snouted wolf type dog.

"This is Mrs. Danvers and her canine charge, Manderley. We just call her Winter. It's easier."

At the mention of her name she perked her ears towards him for a moment and brought her head to sniff in his general direction. Glancing towards her feline partner in crime they agreed. This dude in the leather jacket with the icy blue eyes and high cheeks bones was cool. Their lady was safe with him. He'd even remembered to lock the door after her.

"You've got a sense of humor."

For a moment her hands stopped. She was running her fingers through his hairline. Probably to make sure the cut wasn't deeper towards his scalp. That asshole's beer bottle had come down hard. It hadn't been his fault he'd seen red when he spotted Benson trying to man handle Colleen. She had stepped in for a friend. A doe eyed sweetheart that worked over at the Spina's Floralist. Really sweet girl. He had made a call or two to the owner, Eddie Spina after hours after she was well out of sight and earshot. The fact that he'd put in the coolers and the misting system for him in exchange for weed on tap had been the agreement. On paper, so it was legit in the eyes of the law and the state, he still owed Mike the cool sum of $25,000. The schmuck hadn't even bothered to attempt to pay him back. Anything. So to see his best florist, she'd handled his Granny MacCool's funeral spray and arrangements as well as his cousin Mickey's wedding. So, to see her get the shit knocked out of her let alone at all, pissed Mike right the fuck off. It ticked Colleen who was there as a customer, The Old Towne was busy with the Sox game on. From the sounds of it he'd had too much to drink and had wasted is last tenner on beer instead of his bet cover. Helene, he remembered her name, ended up bearing the brunt of his temper tantrum, in front of everyone on Delaney street.

"My Mother did, she was a novelist."

He was intrigued and his interest was piqued.

"Really?"

"Yep. You're eyebrow's going to be ok. No lumps or bumps deeper or further back. "

"Oh color me ever so relieved. Who was she?"

She offered him her lighter he accepted and lit the hand roll she'd gifted him, took a puff and passed it up to her. Shaking her head she finished up by putting a bandaid over the stitches.

"Who was who?"

"Jesus, I'm gonna call you Edith like Edith Bunker. Your mother, who was she?"

"M.C. Delancey. Writer of both romance novels and mystery novels."

"No shit!"

"Scout's honor."

"How would you get rid of him?"

He had to know, he was more or less thinking to himself or trying to figure her out. Get a deeper more primal read on her.

"Let me see your hands."

"What? Why?"

"Gimme your hands."

Checking him over she was satisfied. This could be the very best thing she'd been compelled to do or the absolute worst lesson of her life. Either way, she was interested in knowing more.

'So is he.'

A familiar voice she couldn't quite place said in the back of her mind.

"I'd gut the sonofbitch like a fish and leave him where he drops."

Mike watched as her face changed, the soft lines gone hard and rigid. Her spring green eyes turning to cold deep grey pools of storm. She was a cold December day at sea. He could see her, proudly carved on the bow of a ship.

"Something tells me you're serious."

"Only about that. Other than I'm pretty much a calm person. You?"

"Drug him, shove him in a trunk and take him on a long ride out a very deep lake. Cement blocks help."

"Ooh..I like the way you think."

"We're insane."

"No...we're...sane adjacent."

"You're a pip ain't you, Murphy?"

"You've got no fucking idea, Caffee."

[sofeeplays]

My Favourite Sims 4 Makeup CC

1. Glow Makeup Set. 2. Peach Makeup Set

3. Slayer Makeup Set. 4. Dark Hour Makeup Set

5. Wings Makeup Set. 5. Prism Makeup Set

7. Love Me Better Collection. 8. Eye Makeup Kit

9. Charmed Set. 10. Mirage Set

11. XXL Collection. 12. Flower Garden Set

13. Sugar Plum Makeup. 14. Frosty Makeup Set

[remzvv]

haul <3

{ STAPLES }

6 x 9 bubble mailer $5.99

5 x 9 bubble mailer $5.99

star sticky notes $4.19

one touch stapler $7

premium staples $4.99

scotch tape $8.39

roller date stamp $3.79

purple iridescent washi tape $2.99

pink iridescent washi tape $2.99

{ BED, BATH & BEYOND }

feeling smitten vanilla donut whipped sugar scrub $10

poo-pourri on the go kit $9.99

sun bum tinted lip spf in bonfire $5.99

{ ULTA }

anastasia glow kit $40

better than sex waterproof mascara $28

truly mary jane glow serum $30

truly pineapple haze glossy lip butter $16

clinique almost lipstick in black honey $22

too faced hangover pillow lip balm in banana kiss $26

billie eilish eilish perfume 1.7oz $58

⭐️ TOTAL: $262.80 ⭐️