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blues824 · 1 year

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This might sound a little too much to ask, but could you do headcanons about Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho and Sebek going to the reader's world (which is real-life Earth), please? I would like to see them explore the countries and cities, taste the unique cuisines (including the ones they had never tried before), buying souvenirs, etc. I would also like to know their favorite singers, songs, movies, food, drinks, countries and cities from the reader's world.

I made myself hungry. Reader is barely mentioned, but kept gender-neutral. They are all aged-up because some characters have alcohol as a favorite beverage (besides Ortho).

Ace Trappola

Favorite country + city he visits: Los Angeles, United States. He loves the big city, and L.A. has a day-life and a night-life. NYC comes in second place for that same reason.

Favorite cultural cuisine and specific favorite food: It’s stated that he likes cherry pie, so he probably likes food from the U.K. (I looked it up and it said that cherry pie originated from there)

Favorite drink: Strawberry green tea with popping strawberry boba. Riddle’s taste for strawberry has rubbed off on him, and since L.A. has a lot of boba shops, he loves it.

Favorite souvenir: A fancier deck of cards, for obvious reasons

Favorite singers/songs: I have a feeling this man knows his Nicki, so his go-to song is Monster by Jay-Z, Rick Ross, Nicki Minaj, Bon Iver, and Kanye West

Favorite movie: High School Musical, but when you ask he will say something like Silent Hill to seem all bad and cool

Deuce Spade

Favorite country + city he visits: Probably Tijuana, Mexico. It’s right on the ocean, and therefore it has a beach. He would love to rent a motorcycle and ride with you all over town.

Favorite cultural cuisine and specific favorite food: Mexican food, specifically street tacos. Mexican street food is some of the best I’ve ever had. When you had him try it, he fell in love.

Favorite drink: Horchatas. They’re a popular drink, and he thinks it’s so good (so do I)

Favorite souvenir: A handmade keychain that has ‘T.J.’ engraved on it.

Favorite singers/songs: I feel like he’d be into Bad Bunny, but more specifically the song ‘Te Bote’. Mans doesn’t know what the lyrics translate to, he just thinks it has a good beat. (Btw, I’m aware Bad Bunny is Puerto Rican)

Favorite movie: La Bamba. He loves it, but it always makes him cry. (😢 RIP Ritchie)

Jack Howl

Favorite country + city he visits: Madrid, Spain. Beautiful scenery, wonderful sunset skyline, and rooftop bars: all you need in life.

Favorite cultural cuisine and specific favorite food: Bocadillos, any kind as long as it doesn’t have green peppers.

Favorite drink: Sangria. His canonical favorite food is pear compote, so I feel like he would love a fruit-based drink

Favorite souvenir: A pair of Spanish sandals that he got custom-made. He thinks they are comfortable to walk in.

Favorite singers/songs: He loves the local artists that you can find on the streets, playing for flamenco dancers. His favorite song is Ninguna, by Juanes (I know Juanes is Colombian).

Favorite movie: Call of the Wild. It's a sad story that made him tear up the first time he watched it.

Epel Felmier

Favorite country + city he visits: Marseille, France. He went on a road trip all around France (as much as he could, anyway) and found that this place was at the top of his ‘favorites’ list.

Favorite cultural cuisine and specific favorite food: He does prefer macarons over macaroons, so French cuisine would be his favorite. However, Italian food comes in second.

Favorite drink: He wants to be seen as manly, so he would say his favorite drink is whiskey on the rocks (he does genuinely like it), but his favorite is actually a lighter spirit. He would settle for beer, though.

Favorite souvenir: A very small model of the Eiffel Tower.

Favorite singers/songs: Probably As It Was, by Harry Styles. He is secretly a Harry Styles fan

Favorite movie: Like Ace, he would say his favorite movie is something like The Conjuring, but it’s the Titanic.

Ortho Shroud

Favorite country + city he visits: Thessaloniki, Greece… for obvious reasons.

Favorite cultural cuisine and specific favorite food: He doesn’t eat; he’s a robot

Favorite drink: He doesn’t drink; he’s a robot

Favorite souvenir: A chess set, but instead of normal pieces it’s Greek Soldiers

Favorite singers/songs: I feel like he likes older songs, so I will say Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell

Favorite movie: Guardians of the Galaxy

Sebek Zigvolt

Favorite country + city he visits: Stratford-upon-Avon, England. He likes to read, and this is where Shakespeare was born.

Favorite cultural cuisine and specific favorite food: I have reason to believe he likes Italian food. His favorite food remains salmon carpaccio.

Favorite drink: He doesn’t drink a lot, so his favorite drink is Earl-Grey Tea. However, when he needs to relax, he drinks campari (he probably likes the bitter flavor)

Favorite souvenir: A leather-bound copy of Romeo and Juliet

Favorite singers/songs: Until I Found You, by Stephen Sanchez (probably discovered after he read Romeo and Juliet for the first time)

Favorite movie: He loves the Harry Potter movies, and no one is allowed to argue with me.

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neo-502-kiana · 3 months

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ARCHITECTURE STUDY : CYBERPUNK 2077

Cyberpunk architecture is a sub-genre of architecture the draws inspiration from the futuristic, dystopian settings found in cyberpunk literature and movies. It is often identified by a blend of futuristic, high tech design and gritty industrial features. The architecture draws heavily from the architecture of the 20th century—primarily the Brutalist movement. The Brutalist movement is a style that developed in the 1950s in the United Kingdom post World War II. There is a distinct emphasis on materials, textures, and construction. Cyberpunk architecture makes use of the Brutalist movement’s concrete, steel and glass concepts in a natural and unpolished manner. Yet, it manages to add high-tech elements such as holographic projections, neon lights, digital displays, etc. In the case of Cyberpunk 2077’S Night City a sprawling metropolis with large skyscrapers and mega-buildings create the beautiful skyline, yet the city is an evident mix of old and new—run down buildings manage to co-exist with high-tech structures. Night City uses a lot of references to L.A, Detroit, Tokyo, and Hong Kong, however they primarily worked on from a clean slate. Urban Design experts were involved in the process to ensure that Night City looks credible—moving as a real city.

Night City wants to make you feel small and meaningless. The higher the building the more dominant it is. What happens behind the building is of little importance. That is why you get slum like areas even in the more central locations. Although there are obviously some things that could have been done about it, it seems that Night City was not built as a Theme Park. The image of the city, or how the inhabitants see it seems of little importance. Night City is a living, breathing metaphor. It is what you get when ambition, violence and overpopulation are the core foundation of the world you are building. Everybody wants a piece of the pie even if there is not enough for everybody. There are four varieties of stylistic identity used in the construction of the game: Entropism, Kitsch, Neo-Militarism, and Neo-Kitsch:

Entropism: Necessity over style. Buildings created in this style are old, grey and decrepit and are will often be found in areas where people cannot afford to modernize with the rest of society. Entropism, is a style based on poverty and a severe lack of resources. In a nutshell, this style visually tells the story of the very poor social layer of our world.

Kitsch: Style over Substance. Counter-Cultural movement against the austerity of the old days; an expression of happiness an d recovered. Bold colors, bright plastic and accessibility. Kitsch describes a slightly richer social layer of our world. Members of this social class would use some cyberware just to look amazing and grab attention. Architecture here would also be very attractive, with a lot of vibrant colors, a lot of shiny materials like plastic or good fabrics.

Neo-Militarism: Substance over style. Separated from the austerity of Entropism by its sleek and domineering aesthetic. It’s power dressing and has an air of luxury. A deadly layers of elegance and corporate, militaristic fashion. Associated with mega-corporations. Neomilitarism is very minimalistic, very rich, and very sleek.

Neo-Kitsch: Style and substance. Holds similarity to Kitsch however it lacks semblance to the movement its predecessor aligned with. This is the youngest style in Night City but also a style only for the richest of the rich. People so rich you cannot even begin to imagine what you would do with all the money that they have. It uses only the most expensive materials in our universe like wood, gold, real animal leather and very unique but slick architecture design.

ARCHITECTS BENJAMIN BALL AND ALEX READINGER'S REVIEW OF NIGHT CITY IN CYBERPUNK 2077

Do you think it is realistic, what it would be like in 2070?:

Benjamin Ball: “I think cities are going to become more and more dense. We are going to be more packed in close to infrastructure. Old zoning rules will not apply. We will have to build closer and higher—we will have to build closer to freeways. People will have less personal space. There will be more, and more, runaway capitalism…Yeah maybe this [Night City] is a good take on what 2077 would look like...Hyper dense, very vertical places. “A lot of signage take on a lot of visage on the buildings.”

How sustainable do you think the city will be?

Alex Readinger: “It doesn’t look sustainable at all. There are wall-mounted exterior air conditioner units. This particular cyberpunk version has this ‘Bladerunner’ neon, whereas my version of the future would be powered by algae.”

Benjamin Ball: “Hard to say. Out environments would be synthetic—will be manufactured….Climate will have changed. It will be like living in a machine. Is that sustainable? I don’t know…We would be a lot more solar, a lot more nuclear, and a lot more hydrogen. Who knows?

Cyberpunk 2077 captures a lens of the world that encapsulates the future not just architecturally, but also sonically, politically, and in every single way.

Alex Readinger: “What is frightening is that it feels like a world without relief. Endless sex shops, neon—no end to the noir experience.”

Benjamin Ball: “Endless trail. Endless maze. There is no break from the commercialism of it. Nothing comes out as sacred. There is no nature—it is all about consumption and desire. It’s relentless and it’s where we are headed.”

When you get to the columbarium—even death has be industrialized. “Step up as a uniform and non-personal gridded space with a digital readout. Even spaces that could be sacred was specifically designed not to be.” (Alex Readinger)

PROJECT: HOW/WHY IS IT APPLICABLE?

I plan to recreate chosen locations in Louisville while staying true to architectural design choices that have been used to create Cyberpunk 2077’s Night City. Since cities do not have to be recreated to have a Cyberpunk feel. All a city needs to go through is layers and layers of add-ons while keeping everything in the past. So I will do that exact thing with Louisville. Staying true to our local history while adding a bit of the fictional narratives associated with the Cyberpunk 2077 universe. For example, the downtown builds may depict Humana or the PNC Bank as a “mega-corporation” that domineers over all. Additionally, I will apply the concepts of brutalism into my builds as well.

SOURCES

https://youtu.be/HnlaJFf7mC8?si=2PuUSZLs6lAAJUhl

https://www.domusweb.it/en/architecture/gallery/2020/12/21/night-city-how-the-cyberpunk-2077s-megalopolis-was-built.html

https://iuliu-cosmin-oniscu.medium.com/a-brief-look-at-cyberpunk-2077-city-design-night-city-66b54f686b66

https://www.architecturaldigest.com/story/inside-the-design-of-cyberpunk-2077s-urban-dystopia

https://www.architecturaldigest.com/story/brutalist-architecture-101

https://cyberpunk.fandom.com/wiki/Neokitsch

https://cyberpunk.fandom.com/wiki/Neomilitarism

https://cyberpunk.fandom.com/wiki/Kitsch

https://cyberpunk.fandom.com/wiki/Entropism

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk #cyberpunk architecutre #NEO 502

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cassieuncaged · 2 months

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Night Out (A Mortal Kombat Oneshot)

Summary: Nyx and Alex go out for a night out, away from the Black Dragon.

TW: shenanigans, light violence, bleeding, suggestiveness, mention of tattoos, language (etc.)

WC: 3.4 K

A/N: Thank you to the amazing @chadillacboseman for letting me use Alex for this totally fun oneshot of Nyx actually making a friend and finally allowing someone to get to know her (sort of). It's just a fun outing mostly and little bit of trouble because this is the gruesome twosome we're dealing with here :)

Other's OC's Mentioned:

Echo (@roofgeese)

Tigue (@mintspider)

Ombra (@theelderhazelnut)

Kate (@quantum-lover)

Thanks for letting me borrow your babies!

Taglist: @roofgeese, @chadillacboseman, @theelderhazelnut, @quantum-lover, @elderglocks, @galaxycunt, @voidika, @spacestephh

Lights on the rooftop flickered, cigarette smoke hanging in a filmy haze. The night was black, starless except for the skyline of L.A. If that even counted. Nyx expelled smoke from her painted lips, thinking of the city and her crummy little apartment crammed above a Thai food restaurant. At least that meant unlimited helpings of pho and noodles to get her through sleepless nights.

The door creaked on its hinges before slamming shut with a thud. Rubber soles smacked against loose asphalt. Nyx felt her jaw tighten, suppressing a scream as she felt the pressure of company forced upon her. Nostrils flared, fat plumes of smoke exuding in silent aggression.

“What up, Elvira.” Alex yawned, nursing a swollen jaw with a frozen flank steak. She had no idea where it came from and didn’t really want an explanation. “Surprised you’re still here.”

“Doing Kano’s dirty work doesn’t leave me with a lot of time for a budding social life.” Burgundy eyes rolled, contact slipping enough to reveal a sliver of blue. Alex didn’t seem to notice. “Don’t you have another fight?”

“Got paid to throw it,” he shrugged, setting the steak on the ledge to pull a hoodie over his plain t-shirt. “Took a pretty nasty hit to the jaw. Bit the inside of my cheek.”

He tapped the bloated side of his face, blood soaked gauze exposed when his lips were cracked open.

“That explains it then,” Nyx smirked, flicking her cigarette off down below. He sounded like his tongue was too fat for his mouth.

“That’s littering,” he lisped with a chuckle, earning an eye roll, “Red irises tonight.”

“Yeah. So?” she snapped, crossing her arms over a leather clad chest.

“Just making small talk.” He laughed again, wincing at the throbbing pain in his jaw. “Which you are great at by the way.”

“Dickhead,” Nyx groused, eyes focusing on the waning sliver of moon.

“I’d make a jab too but something tells me you’d sock me in the other cheek.”

“Just like Jesus.” She actually cracked a smile, tipping her head in his direction. Alex hand never noticed until then how long her nose was, silhouette prominent against sprawling darkness.

“Exactly.” he nodded firmly, watching as she rested her arms across the ledge. Alex did the same. “Except I can’t turn water into wine.”

“Bummer.” that dry timbre returned, pale fingers knotted in a fist, nails lacquered black.

Of course.

Nyx was as plainly predictable as she was capricious. A mall goth pushing what everyone assumed was thirty, based on interests and pop culture references. Alex had garnered that she’d watched the Price Is Right when she was home sick from school and loved Gerard Way. Both were slips on her part but he could be disarming considering the regulars who frequented the Black Dragon. She wasn’t completely inscrutable like Echo.

“What’s your poison? You don’t seem like a cabernet type.” He pronounced the word incorrectly.

“Cabernet.” She corrected, lazily. He didn’t mind the habit of hers. It bothered the shit out of Kabal and Kano. “And I don’t drink. Not anymore.”

“Alcoholic?” he giggled, trying to be quippy and fresh. Keep the mood light. It wasn’t his best idea.

“Recovering actually. Prefer the Devil’s Lettuce these days. Maybe a bit of Molly if I go to a club.” This was absolutely shocking. He felt like he was discovering virgin land. No one else had ever pushed this far and been admitted. He’d expected a sweetheart like Kate would have been able to crack this nut but apparently it was Alex who was the excavator of this social ‘dig’. “Good way to pick up chicks.”

“You go out?” he was flabbergasted, scratching at the tag at the neck of his t-shirt. “I thought the rumors about you going home to a ferret were true.”

“Who the fuck knows about that?” she turned completely, black lips agape, piercings gleaming in the moonlight. A septum and an eyebrow stud. Not to mention a fading scar decorating one eye. He’d never studied her like a bug under a microscope before.

“Kabal. Says your pillow talk leaves something to be desired.” He shrugged, half smile plastered across a tan face. Black brows quirked. If Nyx didn’t know any better, she’d say he was handsome. A dope, but handsome nonetheless.

“Fuck a guy once and he can’t stop talking about your ferret.” Those dark eyes rolled, in annoyance, small hands flying up to smooth bi-colored hair.

“That sounds like a double entendre.”

“Well, it’s not.”

“What’s it named?” he was genuinely curious, shocked by their conversation’s progression. Any other time she’d briskly tell him to ‘fuck off’.

“Her name is Ghost.” she added softly, “She’s all I have left.”

A heavy silence lingered as Nyx fished in her pockets for fingerless leather gloves. Pulling them over pallid digits. She was getting ready to leave. Alex wasn’t exactly expecting a goodbye but was wholly shocked when she cocked her head and said:

“Wanna go out and paint the town black?”

……

Muscular arms wrapped around Nyx’s middle as the Ducati zipped through traffic. She wasn’t used to a passenger but loved the chance to show off. Even though she wore the only helmet; hopefully Alex wouldn’t go careening off into the street, head splitting like a watermelon.

She liked the guy and that would be a tragedy.

So the woman carefully glided between vehicles, sliding through a few yellow lights before turning onto Sunset. Neon lights blinded them, theaters wedged between many palm trees in concrete prisons. She hated the nightlife splendor, only partaking in a few clubs to find someone to occasionally warm her bed. There was never company, a passenger wrapped around her gut, clenching tighter at every stop light.

“You want In ‘n Out?” she slid the visor back, turning so Alex could hear her. She knew he was a glutton for carbs but only got a sharp headshake in response.

“Nah,” his voice was muffled beneath his white fanged mask, dark eyes sparkling with childlike glee. “Let’s find a strip club around here. Those places have the best wings.”

“Really?” she asked, fingers tapping on the leather handles of the bike, eyes flitting back to the fiery red light. “Didn’t take you for the strip club type.”

“What can I say,” he stretched his fingers across her leather clad jacket, catching a slight spasm. “Holy shit! Are you ticklish? The Princess of Darkness is a secret softyyyy-”

His words lingered like a comic book character’s speech bubble left hanging in the air, tires screeching when the light turned green. Stark white hair covered dark eyes like a blindfold as Nyx weaved in and out of cars. A chorus of honks chided them, a track of burnt rubber tattooed onto the asphalt.

The distant Hollywood Hills looked like mountainous peaks, light pollution adding a supernatural austere. Nyx enjoyed how the city came alive at night, sprawling miles of pink and blue lights spreading out like a network of veins. They were nestled in the belly of the breathing beast, the same one that housed the parking lot she wickedly turned into. Alex held on for dear life, jostled off the seat before she slid into an empty spot.

“That was kickass,” he proclaimed, pulling his mask off and slicking wild hair back into its ponytail. “You ever watch Akira?”

“Hell yeah,” she added, voice muffled beneath the helmet before prying it off. Black and white was fully revealed in a waterfall, space buns slightly squished. “Always wanted to recreate that slide. Figured it’d make me a badass.”

“Puh-lease.” Dark chocolate eyes rolled, tan skin appearing golden beneath flashing neon lights. The man had the body of a heart throb housing the personality of a puppy. He was like a cute kid brother she was growing protective of. “You say that like you aren’t already.”

“Thanks,” black lips pursed for a moment as gloved fingers sat the helmet atop the vinyl seat. Both turned to gawk at the neon sign flashing above them. It read Sunset Girls in flamingo pink, featuring the silhouette of a woman dancing when the light flickered. “You wanna go in?”

“Fuck yeah,” Alex exclaimed, pulling a pair of Wayfarers from his pocket and sliding them on. Nyx snorted; he looked ridiculous wearing sunglasses and sporting a purpling bruise on his jaw. One arm was tossed across her slender shoulders as he steered them both towards the door.

……

The place wasn’t a dive, but it sure as hell wasn’t classy either. Blue and purple lights painted the stage in the same indigo as an aquarium paired with the odiferous scent of cheap perfume and sweat.

Nyx had secured a small table towards the back while Alex combed through a rather sizeable buffet, sunglasses pushed atop his head. Def Leppard’s Animal throbbed through the sound system while a woman with a curtain of bottle blonde hair snapped a sequin bikini off.

Black lips curled in amusement; the establishment was so painfully cliched, right down to the schlubby sleazes roaring in amusement and throwing crumpled dollars onto the lighted floor. Taking a sip of a weakly mixed Bloody Mary, red contacts found her buddy for the evening ambling over with an abundantly filled plate.

“Here!” The food was plopped on the table, one side being presented as an offering. “They even had crab rangoons. You like those?”

“Not usually at a nudie bar, but I’ll bite.” Alex only smiled politely, not completely hearing sardonic words buried beneath the hair rock. Picking up the fried packet of dough, Nyx carefully tore it open with her front teeth. The filling was actually quite delicious as she began to chew, watching Alex destroy a pile of wings, “Holy shit, this is amazing!”

“Best part about these places is the food!” He used one hand to magnify his voice as soon as the song ended.

“Dude,” a man a few tables over chimed in, “You know there’s naked chicks here, right?”

“Drizzle them in cheese and jalapeños like the nachos at the buffet and then we’ll talk.”

Nyx practically choked on her drink, watching in amusement as the stranger grinned awkwardly, earning a genuine thumbs up from Alex before Xtina’s Dirrty was queued next.

“You’re alright.” She settled leather clad arms on the table before playfully socking the man in the shoulder.

“Kano should get you to fight,” he snickered, playfully rubbing his arm, “You could smash someone’s skull with that right hook.”

“Shut up,” her eyes rolled before quick fingers snuck another rangoon from his plate.

“Come on,” he teased, “sharpen it up and you’d fit right into the line up with Tigue and Ombra.”

“Don’t forget about Kate.” She warned; the woman could fry them all to a crisp but Nyx had a soft spot for her.

“I always thought you didn’t give a shit about us at the club. Like in a ‘too cool for school’, edgy rebel sort of way.”

“I don’t like to get attached to anyone in this business,” her gaze dropped to the table, fingers aimlessly braiding straw wrappers together. “It’s depressing.”

“Yeah,” he nodded knowingly, face cast in a shade of blue as he chewed. “But so is being alone. Besides, it’s not like any of us at the Black Dragon are saints; we can take care of ourselves.”

Before she could respond, there was a commotion from the private rooms behind them. Both of them immediately turned when a woman screamed:

“Get your hands off me, scumbag.”

No one else could hear anything over the music, leaving them to Nancy Drew the situation. Nyx slinked from her seat, leading the way as Alex wiped sauce sticky fingers on his sweatpants. The ‘private rooms’ were only alcoves hidden by velvet curtains, offering little privacy. There was another squeal from the closest one, followed by a smack. Nyx eyed her compatriot, silently directing him to take the other side.

“I paid for this, I’ll do what I want.”

Taking the lead, Alex slid in first, hands proudly resting on his hips when Nyx bolted past the thick , purple curtain.

“Not if we have anything to say about it!” He announced jubilantly, confounding the showgirl from squabbling with her sleazy patron. She moved to cover herself with a decorative cushion.

“What are you, Superman?” Nyx screwed up her pale features with disgust. Alex broke character, hands thrown up in surrender.

“Whaddya want? I’m trying to be heroic!” he declared, pounding his chest with one fist. The dancer flipped dark curls over one shoulder, dropping the cushion to reveal bare breasts. Both tried to stop their eyes from dropping immediately.

“I don’t a hero,” her green eyes glowed in the dim light, red lips open with a huff, “I need my manager to remove this fucking creep.”

“Hey, I paid extra!” The man roared, sporting slicked back hair and a bowling shirt. “If I wanna touch your tits, I will.”

“Listen, Tony Soprano,” it was Alex’s turn to roll his eyes, cross his arms across a maroon hoodie. “Everyone knows you get to look, not touch.”

“Who the hell are you two? Her guardian angels?” His beady eyes narrowed, paunchy face drenched in sweat. The man was astoundingly repulsive.

“No,” Nyx admitted coolly, kicking the heel of one boot forward before slickly pulling a kunai from the heel, “Just a couple shadows that you’re going to forget. Along with this woman. You’re gonna go home to your sad little house and jerk off like everyone else.”

“Or what?” His eyes were on the weapon, watching with the others as she brought the heavy object to dark lips before sticking out a pink tongue. Bringing the blade to soft skin, Nyx carefully brought the sharp edge across the edge of her tongue, releasing a shallow rivulet of blood. The tip flitted to the edges of pointed incisors, giving her the visage of a vampire. She tossed the kunai upwards before catching it.

“Do you really want to find out?” Her voice was huskier, dark as a thick syrupy bourbon with a bite to it. The man shook his head before scrabbling past the curtain and out of their sight. Black lips jutted forward as she sucked on her tongue, swiftly pocketing the knife before management got involved.

“Holy shit.” Alex gawked, along with the dancer who seemed not to mind their company. “That was awesome.”

“Yeah,” dark curls bounced as she nodded, “Thought we were going to have to call the cops. But you’re a bit of a freak. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. Sorry to bother you. The two began to peel the curtain open when the woman spoke again.

“Wait!” she fell back onto the red velvet bench. “I have fifteen minutes left before we need to vacate. Either of you want a dance? The other can get a free drink at the bar. For your troubles.”

Leather clad fingers clapped a broad shoulder, as Nyx leaned in to jokingly whisper:

“Go get her, tiger. I’m going to claim my boozy reward.”

……

Lucky’s was a grungy tattoo parlor on the edge of Hollywood Boulevard, sandwiched between a dry cleaner’s and a gated pawn shop. It was filled with a couple artists who worked on the occasional celebrity, sometimes after awards shows down at the Dolby Theater.

“You sure you both want skulls?” Ernie asked dutifully, scrawny as his partner Billy was pudgy.

“Yeah!” Alex spun in a swivel chair as Nyx extended a bare wrist. “They’ll be different. I want flames and she wants snakes.”

“Maybe like an ouroboros through the skull's eyes?” she added as Ernie sketched a design.

“You want it eating its tail or some shit?” a bushy brow arched upwards before she nodded her head. “To each their fucking own.”

“Fuck yeah!” Alex jeered with joy, spinning again. All the posters displaying flash prints bled together as he rode his high from dissipating liquor and a free lap dance. “Tonight is stellar.”

“You a couple?” Billy grumbled from behind his own sketch pad, expelling a huff from his nostrils.

“Nah,” Nyx piped up, suddenly animated, “He’s my baby brother. Wanted to get a tattoo with his big sis.”

“Heh,” Ernie exclaimed, revealing his sketch with fanfare. “Don’t look anything alike.”

“Different dads,” Alex added ruefully, winking at Nyx when she threw a sheath of black and white hair over one shoulder. “Genetics are weird, man.”

“Hell, yeah.” Ernie, jested, awaiting for her approval of his design. “Would you believe Bill and I were cousins?”

“No shit?” Alex played along, finally stilling in his seat. Then the tattooer threw his head back, cackling with amusement.

“I’m fucking with you. Just like you’re fucking with me.” he giggled a little more playfully, “Not that I give a shit. One lady came in here back in February, wearing this fancy ballgown saying she just won a fucking Oscar.”

“Didn’t she have it with her?” Nyx asked flatly, less than impressed while Alex’s eyes ballooned wide.

“Can spot a fake a mile away.” Ernie seemed prideful, leaning forward to plaster the outline onto her arm, “Probably foil covered and filled with chocolate.”

“Probably,” she parroted, watching as he hopped to surprisingly lithe feet, grabbing a pair of latex gloves and fresh needles. It was going to fucking sting but if she weren’t ready to feel something again.

……

Alex picked at the gauze covering the soft skin of his forearm, shadow of a flaming skull winking beneath the sheer material. Blinking away the bright lights of the burger joint, he hissed as one finger traced the decorative wound. Nyx bit into a juicy sandwich, relishing in the tanginess of pink meat.

“Okay?” Her mouth was full, half masticated on full display.

“They not have manners wherever the hell you're from?” he chuckled, popping a fry between his lips as she clamped her jaw shut and roughly swallowed. “I’m fine. Takes more than a few needles to bother me. How’s yours?”

“Alright,” she patted the leather covered span of her wrist, where a snake threaded it’s way through a cracked skull’s open mouth. “Not my first rodeo. Have four others.”

“No shit.” Another long fry was swirled in a pool of ketchup. “What else you got?”

“Ghostface, a candy heart that says ‘Bite Me’, a bat on a tombstone. And a daisy.” her gaze dropped to her half eaten burger.

“Not to get all Sesame Street on you, but one of these things is not like the other.” Alex leaned forward, balancing his jaw in an upturned palm. “I mean, you don’t have to share, but I’ll never tell your secrets.”

“Cross your heart and hope to die?”

“Stick a needle in my eye.” A warm smile split across his face, the beginning of five o’clock shadow decorating his chin.

“It’s for my mom. It was her favorite.” Red eyes dropped to the red formica table, moisture gathering in the corners.

“That’s a nice memorial.” Silence settled between them, the comfortable kind that found old friends enjoying each other’s company. Alex continued to eat his fries as mellow rock music played through a crackling radio. It was either John Mellencamp or Bryan Adams, but what was the difference?

The sound of meat sizzled from the kitchen as patrons continued to filter in despite the clock that ticked well past midnight. Other night owls passed by the plexiglass windows, cigarettes hanging from their lips. That was normally what Nyx did after completing a job, wandering the streets and paying it cool, giving herself a few alibis.

But there were no jobs tonight. Just company.

“Virginia.” she blurted suddenly. “That’s wherever the hell I’m from.”

“Oh,” dark eyes widened to saucers again, realizing that a dangerous wolf had allowed him to pet her snout, teeth no longer bared. “Thanks for trusting me with that.”

“I don’t trust a lot of people.” she nodded, black lipstick starting to fade and reveal pale pink while matte powder bled away to reveal a stray smattering of freckles. The mask was slipping. “But you’re proving to be trustworthy.”

“Don’t hear that a lot.” his eyes grew to the size of saucers, chocolatey and inviting as ever. Nyx felt her contact slip again. “Thanks.”

She grinned, this time authentic. Her cheeks warmed at the moment of intimacy, something she hadn’t experienced since leaving home. Noah used to make her blush all the damn time, reminding her what a good sister she was. Compliments always turned her tomato red, like she didn’t really deserve it.

“Your eyes are pretty by the way. Blue like the ocean.” he mirrored her grin, even wider than before.

“Thanks,” she relayed once more. Maybe they were friends. Maybe friendship wasn’t that bad.

#fanfiction #mortal kombat fanfiction #nyx and alex #platonic otp #gruesome twosome #oc: nyx #oc: alex #friends ocs #thanks for letting me borrow him tara!#your the best 💕#mk alex #mk nyx

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thornilee013 · 11 days

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I am late bit can I get you to work on the Pride Zine for WIP Wednesday? 👀

Silly Little Jean Moreau Fic | WW 27.3.2024

(I'm cheating a bit bc most of this is from a pre-written snippet, but I wanted to post some snippets from later chapters in this fic before TSC was released... alas! I added three sentences throughout. Enjoy regardless.)

If not for the fact that Jean knew that he'd have more headaches to deal with in the aftermath than their current presence contributed to his life, Jean was certain that he would have strangled at least half of the Trojan lineup by then. Jean was certain that Jeremy would give up on bringing him to Trojan social events eventually, but until then, Jeremy would have to suffer the consequences. If that meant that feelings were hurt and the team ended up divided because someone couldn't be cordial, then it was hardly Jean's fault.

Still, separating from the rest of the group and getting to be alone with Jeremy in a space that wasn't their room was... a positive.

Jeremy sighed, looking out at the L.A. skyline and tilting his beer can back and forth. “Can I tell you a truth, Jean?”

Jean scoffed and leaned back onto his palms. “Haven’t we been doing that all night?”

Jeremy turned to face Jean only so that he could see him roll his eyes, then gently shoved Jean’s shoulder. “Seriously, Jean,” he said, pausing to wet his lips. “No strings attached. No being scared of being honest with myself anymore. I want to share a truth with you, and you alone. If you’ll let me, that is.”

Jean’s entire body seemed to pulse along to the beat of his heart, a strong thrum in his fingers, his neck, his chest. There was weight behind how Jeremy’s hand had lingered on his shoulder before returning to his lap. There was significance behind Jeremy’s insistence that Jean be the only one to hear what he had to say. “Yeah,” he breathed, swallowing before continuing, “always.”

Jeremy turned his entire body to face Jean, his blue eyes searching for something in Jean’s expression, anything. He nodded to himself, knocked back the rest of his beer can and set it aside. “I… I don’t know how to say this, really.”

“That’s okay,” Jean whispered, his own gaze dropping to Jeremy’s lips as he bit his bottom lip. He turned to face Jeremy fully and brought his hands to his lap, clasping his hands together to keep them still. Jeremy’s frantic voice echoed in his mind: “I didn’t want this to happen, he needs me to be a safe place, and what if he doesn’t feel comfortable around me anymore?” Jean didn’t know who else Jeremy could have been talking about if not him, but the chance that Jean’s own feelings could be reciprocated was too good for him to believe. He refused to believe it until Jeremy told him, face to face, exactly how he felt.

Jeremy screwed his lips to one side, his gaze dropping to Jean’s lips for just a second before his own spread in a thin smile, a shy, private, imperfect smile reserved for moments away from the cameras. “I think I’m falling for you, Jean.”

MASTERPOST

#aftg #lee's writing shenanigans #all for the game #wip wednesday #aftg jean #jean moreau #greenautumnleaves #THANK YOU #sorry to not hand you a ton of “fresh” writing but hopefully you'll enjoy the ton of writing regardless!#jerejean #aftg jeremy #jeremy knox #ww013 27.3.2024 #slim jim #suncatchers and golden hours #silly little jean moreau fic #s&gh

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exquisiteagony · 23 days

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For the ask game: 👀🤲🤯⛔️?

👀: Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

skydweller four has more pov’s (hannes, samy, as well as a prologue from remony (the girl who archie took with taz) and swallowtail). it also widens the character pool to include some faces who’ve only been mentioned so far!

🤲: Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

it’s from the road trip fic i’ve never actually said much about before

He scrawled a signature in the log book - Eemi knew it would be fake - and then they were off out into the fresh air again.

Somehow, it was even colder. Eemi shivered again and took off after Archie, around to the steps up to the rooms. The concrete was chipped and pitted from age and weather below his Converses, and uneven from the years. Eemi looked up again when he reached the top and peered out at the desert skyline.

This high up, he could see for miles. The highway was behind him, and before him was the dusty expanse of the desert, dotted about with scrubby plants that made sinister dark shapes in the twilight. The sky was a velvety blue pin-pricked with stars, and Eemi didn’t think he’d ever seen them so bright and clear as this now he was away from the pollution of the city. Back in L.A. they’d been tiny faint dots even when the sky was clear, and back home in Helsinki they hadn’t been all that much brighter, but the miles between the motel and Sacramento had snatched the usual haze of light pollution away, and the stars were haloed in a little green in some places. Eemi thought one might even be Venus rather than a star, though he wasn’t sure and he had no way of checking. He and Archie had ditched their phones before they’d left, and they hadn’t bothered with burners.

Archie cleared his throat, snatching his attention. Eemi looked away from the sky hurriedly, turning towards him. “It’s beautiful,” he said sheepishly. “We don’t get views like this in the city.”

Archie hummed, jangling the keys, but he looked out across the desert all the same. “It’s lonely,” he said after a few moments, wrinkling his nose. He turned away to lead the way to their room for the night without another word.

Rejection splashed in Eemi’s gut. His cheeks prickled with heat, but he followed after Archie all the same.

Besides, Archie was right. The view might be beautiful, but the desert was a vast, lonely place. There was no sense in getting sucked into its beauty.

Archie came to a halt outside room 19. He slipped the key into the lock and opened the door without fanfare, stepping through to turn the light on. Eemi followed him mutely, stepping into the relative warmth. He set his bag down on the grimy carpet - of course a motel in a small town like this would be run-down and grubby at best, he hadn’t expected anything better - and shut the door behind him, shutting out that vast and lonely view.

🤯: What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

romance. and currently smut

⛔️: Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

so many 😅😅 there’s the reader insert bc ones, half of my wip list because i hated what i had down, and the final chapter of ‘the truth was born deformed and dead’

#answered #samyelbannette

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idabbleincrazy · 23 days

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Since I don't have much new Clex wip written, other than Ageless (which I can't share without ruining the surprise), have some Spangel wip from Why We Fight:

Watching the sun sink beneath the L.A. skyline, Spike looked over at Angel, surprised at the non-awkwardness of their silence. Neither of the vampires had mentioned Angel's breakdown the other night, nor the passionate lovemaking that had followed. He hadn't really expected the brunette to, and was loath to be the one to bring it up, still fairly certain Angel would twist it somehow into making it sound as though Spike had taken advantage. He hadn't been turned away though, so that was something, at least.

After that night, he had gone back to his apartment to find all strings had been pulled, Spike's lease paid in full for the next year. Angel didn't call. Wesley, however, did. He asked Spike if he could take care of a nest of Roxl'ar demons down by the docks that had been causing some terror during their mating season. For pay, of course.

Spike had been playing contract killer for the firm for the last week now, and had barely had a minute or two alone with Angel in-between. Made it kind of suck that the first time he'd caught the big dope alone, in an empty office, was so shortly after he'd had to dispatch yet another of his family. He didn't want another grief-shag. Hell, problem was, he wasn't really sure what he wanted. Acknowledgement? It would at least be a start.

With a sigh, Spike sat down on the back of the couch next to Angel. Almost jumped in surprise when Angel's hand grasped his where it laid on his knee.

@leatafandom @anaid-queen

#wip wednesday #spangel

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chimeras-love · 9 months

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tear away at the mask

Pairing: Zack de la Rocha/GN!Reader

Summary: you go to zacks house after promising to help him with some songwriting, but soft glances and softer touches lead to feelings that spill over

Tags: Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Making Out, No Use of [Y/N], Gender Neutral Reader (No Pronouns + Readers Appearance is Not Mentioned), Drabble, One-Shot

Warnings: Light Sexual Content

A/N: this takes place around the early years of RATM, in 1992 when zack is around 20-ish

Word Count: 2.5k (not kidding it's exactly 2,500 lmao)

"So, how was it?"

Zack sat on the living room floor of his studio apartment, surrounded by scattered wide-ruled paper hastily stacked into vaguely organized piles. Some completely filled with writing, others with a word or two that had apparently not been good enough to elicit anything more.

Nothing particularly out of the ordinary. It fit the character, added a bit more charm. The kind found in the graffiti-scrawled bathroom of a local music venue; where the beer tastes like piss, and people are packed into a 600 square foot room like sardines to a tin. In the living room, which by the nature of studios was also his bedroom, a CRT TV stood atop a weathered black shelf. The neck of an all white Jackson guitar leaned against it, strings uncut. CDs lined along the inside, sorted alphabetically by artist and chronologically by album. A few feet in front of it, a coffee table stacked with all types of memorabilia— tour posters that there simply wasn't any room for on the walls, a used plastic bag from the corner store down the street, and empty mugs and plates you'd both been periodically stacking throughout the day. His couch laid back against the wall.

Which is where you were. You sat adjacent to him, cross legged on the sofa, watching as he absentmindedly drummed his pencil on a legal pad. The lead made small dots where it landed. This page was one of the luckier ones; nearly full of his messy handwriting. Lyrics had been written—and rewritten—down as they came to him. Certain verses were circled while others underlined, some crossed out altogether. To anyone else it looked like jumbled nonsense, but it made sense to Zack (and you, to a certain extent).

"Hey," Zack called your name, waving his hand in front of your face.

"Huh?" You blinked, completely forgetting what he'd asked for a second. "Oh, it was good! I liked it."

"That's it?" Zack asked, a blank sort of 'are you serious' expression plastered on his face as he scanned over the paper. "Just liked it?"

"Hey, that's a good thing isn't it?"

"I need people to do more than 'like' my music, you know." His eyes stayed glued to the paper as he spoke.

"I, uh, loved it?"

Zack stopped, hung his head and smiled to himself.

"You're no help at all."

"Hey! You asked me to help, so it's kind of your fault."

It wasn't a lie. He'd invited you over earlier in the evening, when the sun first began to dip below the L.A. city skyline, and shadows elongated with every passing second. You liked to think of yourself as his personal editor, although truthfully you acted as more of a thesaurus. You didn't mind. You considered yourself lucky to see him in this state. Baggy tee and sweats, surrounded by a concoction of his own thoughts. Writing surged through his veins and kept him breathing, and he excelled at it. You'd seen enough of his shows to know. As if a switch flipped in his brain, his persona molded into one of a lyrical guerrilla.

Molded was the wrong word— molded implies copying something, participating in some semblance of meaningless idolatry. He hadn't molded himself into anything. He already was that ungovernable force, it just took a stage to coax it out.

"What time is it?" Zack asked.

"Almost two."

"Fuck me," he sighed and set down his pencil. He raised his arms above his head and stretched; his t-shirt raised with his movement. You caught a glimpse of the small bit of skin that exposed itself.

'How terrible,' you thought, 'falling for your best friend like this.'

Zack finished stretching, and you quickly averted your eyes. He paused for a second, and tilted his head slightly.

Fuck.

"I- uh, I think the song could use a bridge," you deflected.

"...A bridge?"

"Yeah, you know, something there to contrast the verses."

"I know what a bridge is." He picked his pencil back up. "I mean, where would I put it? The song is basically done. If I put it after one of the verses it'll fuck up the flow."

"Put it at the end...?" You replied, although the infliction of your voice made it into more of a question.

"So, the outro?"

"I don't know! Whatever you want to call it, I just feel like it could work." You waited for Zack to make some dry sarcastic quip, but he was back to his notes. You could've distracted him from a car crash with the way he got lost in music, especially his own.

His hands worked quickly. You couldn't make out what he was writing, but you could see they weren't full sentences. More like standalone words, and something near the bottom that seemed to repeat.

"Alright, what about this?" Zack handed the notepad to you.

You skimmed the page, and read the final stanza.

"All of which are American dreams," you whispered, nearly inaudibly.

You looked up at Zack. He folded his arms, hunched ever so slightly, drawing his eyes from the paper to your own.

"It's, uh..." You couldn't contain the stupid smile that plastered your face. "It's perfect."

Zack's face lit up, letting out a relieved 'fuck yes!' Before getting up to envelope you in a bone-crushing hug, that lifted you quite a few inches off of your seat. You could barely get your arms back around him with how tightly he held you, chest pressed around you and arms awkwardly offset from yours (one under, one over). His scent wrapped around you like he did. It clung to your senses; days old cologne, and something else you couldn't quite pinpoint.

If you knew such accidental advice worked this well, you would've done it a long time ago.

Zack let go, still beaming with pride. You handed his notepad back to him, with the slightest crinkle where you held it.

"That's the only other song I needed done. It's finally ready for the studio tomorrow."

You were about to congratulate him, but the last part of his statement tripped you up a bit.

"Tomorrow?" Your eyes narrowed. "You waited until the day before you were supposed to be in the studio to finish writing this song?"

"Yeah, I-I guess." He averted his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What were you planning on doing if you didn't finish it?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, "probably just postpone the recording date until I finished."

"Are you allowed to do that?"

"Well..." He trailed off, then shook his head. "What are you, my mom?"

"Alright, alright, fine, I'll back off," you sighed. "What studio is it, exactly?"

"Sound City. It's like 40 minutes from here, somewhere off of I-101." He gestured down the street, although you didn't know if that was truly the direction or whether he simply pointed that way to articulate his point.

You stared blankly. "I've never heard of it."

"You're messing with me, right?" Johnny Cash, Elton John...?"

"You expect me, a regular person, to know where Elton John records his music?"

"Alright, fair point... You know," he began, "you can come with me to the studio tomorrow. Check it out."

"Really? I'm not gonna be, like, a distraction or anything?"

"Maybe..." He teased. "But I won't mind, and I don't think the guys'll mind either."

You tried your best to hide the smile threatening to give away your feelings. You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool. Trying, and failing.

"Alright." You shook Zack's hand in a sarcastic over-the-top manner. "It's a date."

"A date," he agreed, and then yawned. "Man, we've been sitting here for, what, three hours now?"

"Just about... Fuck me." You fell back onto the couch, head pointed to the ceiling. Zack sat next to you. "I'm gonna pass out here."

"You alright with me putting something on the TV?" Zack asked, turning his head slightly to just barely face you.

"Go for it."

"It's not gonna keep you up?"

"It will, but I don't mind." You held your hand to your temple, shielding your eyes from the overhead light. "As long as I don't have to use my brain for anything, I'll be good."

"Probably not a first," he joked.

"Excuse me." You played along, letting out a scoff. "Who finished your song for you?"

He shrugged. "I would've come up with it eventually."

"Because you were doing so well on your own."

"I was, I just needed you here for moral support."

"And moral support deserves writing credits." You quipped back.

He shook his head. "Please, you weren't even paying attention half the time."

"Like when?"

"When you were gawking at me."

"I-I," you stumbled, "I was not gawking. I barely even glanced."

"Seemed like a pretty long glance to me." He grabbed the remote off of the table. Somehow he made something as simple as turning on the TV into a cocky display of victory.

"Okay, haha, very funny, you got me." You threw your hands up in a sarcastic surrender.

"It's alright, you don't have to be embarrassed. I understand" — he held his hand to his chest — "that I'm too fuckin' irresistible."

You rolled your eyes. "Sure, whatever," you scoffed.

You turned your attention back to the T.V.; a godsend, surely. The temperature in the room seemed to skyrocket, as your heart beat out of your chest. You fumbled with the bottom hem of your shirt, trying any self-soothing techniques your brain thought of.

"What's on?" You asked.

"Some bullshit F.B.I. show," he replied. "Nothing else on is any good, unless you'd rather watch the home shopping network."

"Copaganda'll work just fine, thanks."

Zack laughed. You adored that laugh. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled, how broad all of his smiles were. Anytime he laughed, it reminded you of all of the things you loved about him— It made you fucking melt.

"Man, they have a million of these damn shows." Zack said, bewildered.

"Probably for psychos who stay up writing song lyrics until two in the morning."

"Shit, I guess there's a market for everything."

The show continued as you settled into your spot, resting your head on Zack's shoulder. A bold move, absolutely, but he didn't mind. At least, he didn't seem to.

Despite lacking blankets, pillows, or pretty much anything to keep someone comfortable watching a show, it was the most relaxed you'd felt in a while. The rhythmic breathing of not just you, but Zack was tranquil. All in the midst of the busiest city in California. Ironic.

So whilst your eyelids got heavier, and your breathing became more mellow, you found yourself drifting off into a calm sleep.

***

"Hey, you awake?"

Zack shook your shoulder lightly. You stirred, your eyes blinking open slowly.

"The, uh, show's over," he spoke, voice barely higher than a whisper. He really didn't have to say it, considering the hum of the T.V. static was the only sound that you could hear. That, and the occasional passing of a car.

"Already?" You groaned, raising your arms in a deep and relieving stretch. "Fuck, I really don't want to move anywhere."

"We don't have to," he shrugged. "We can just stay like this. Talk or something."

"Sounds nice."

Only, neither of you knew what to talk about. For the first time in the entirety of your friendship, you had absolutely nothing to say. Nothing at all. At least nothing you wanted to admit in the early, early morning of a nearing Los Angeles dawn.

"Can I ask you something?" Zack asked, breaking the silence.

So much for nothing to talk about.

"Yeah, sure," you replied.

"I know I was fucking with you earlier, but I just wanted to know if... if you actually thought I was any good-looking."

"...You're seriously asking me that?"

Zack furrowed his brow, about to counter your question, but stopped. He shook his head. "No, you're right. It was a self-involved question."

Fuck. You hadn't meant to sound antagonistic, but the nature of his question was all but naive. It... caught you off guard, to say the least.

"N-no! It," you sighed, "it's not, it's just..."

Zacks arms crossed over his chest. Well, they'd actually been like that for a while, you just hadn't noticed prior. You had now, and you also noticed how he tapped his fingers rhythmically against his opposing upper arm; awaiting your response.

"You're... you just..." You tried to speak, but each time you fell short of a full sentence. "Christ, why is this so fucking hard to say?!" You huffed. "You're... beautiful."

"... Really?" He asked (rather doubtfully).

"Yes!" You let out. "I mean, god, you're probably the most attractive person I know."

Zack laughed, a mix of relief and nerves at the implications of your sentence. "Shit, I don't know what to say. You're... you're pretty beautiful too."

"You know you don't have to say it if you don't mean it." You laughed, dismissively.

"What makes you think I don't mean it?"

"You used the exact same phrase I used, after I told you..." You fidgeted with your fingernails. "...and you paused."

"That doesn't mean I didn't mean it."

"Doesn't it?" You narrowed your eyes.

"Alright," he sat up in his seat and turned towards you. "What if I could convince you I wasn't just bullshitting?"

"You can try," you huffed, and turned your head to the side.

Zack reached to hold the side of your face gently in his palm, and guided you to face him. Your skin was flush in his hand. Your breath hitched in your throat as you did your best to avoid his gaze.

"Hey," he spoke softly, as if reading your thoughts, "look up."

You did as he asked, hesitantly, and before you could meet his eyes he locked you into a kiss. You froze; your world completely turned in on itself, and your mind raced with a million thoughts all crossing you at the same time. As much as you wanted to pull away and give a disheartened lecture on the state of your friendship, all you could think of was how good his lips felt on your own. All of the convincing you needed.

His open hand rested on your thigh, while your hands made their way to his locs. The kiss deepened, as Zack started to loom over you. Your back hit the arm of the couch, suddenly, which managed to make you gasp. A gasp that he took full advantage of. A small moan left your lips, muffled by his own. As much as you wanted to make out with him until you suffocated, you didn't think dying was a particularly smart idea.

You pulled back for a breath of air, and rested your forehead on his; your heavy breathing both synchronized. You stayed like this for a while, not saying anything, until Zack broke the silence.

"So, uh... believe me yet?"

hope you enjoyed !! the ending is kinda rushed a bit, ive been sitting on this fic for ages and finally found the motivation to finish it so i hope you enjoy :>> and if there's any grammatical mistakes i missed, uh, oopsies :p

#zack de la rocha x reader #zdlr x reader #rage against the machine x reader #ratm x reader #band imagines #real person fiction #rpf #fanfiction

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brokehorrorfan · 1 year

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Skyline will be released on 4K UHD + Blu-ray on May 2 via Scream Factory. The 2010 sci-fi action film is directed by the Brothers Strause (Aliens vs. Predator: Requiem).

Eric Balfour, Scottie Thompson, Brittany Daniel, Crystal Reed, David Zayas, and Donald Faison star. Joshua Cordes and Liam O'Donnell penned the script.

Special features will be announced at a later date.

It was supposed to be a simple birthday weekend in Southern California. But when sunrise arrives two hours early in the form of a haunting light from an unknown source, a group of friends watch in terror as people across the city are drawn outside and swept into massive alien ships that have blotted out the L.A. skyline. From tankers to drones and hydra-like extraterrestrials, the aliens are inescapable and seemingly indestructible. Now, it will take every survival instinct the group has to elude capture in this riveting, action-packed sci-fi adventure.

Pre-order Skyline.

#skyline #eric balfour #donald faison #scottie thompson #brittany daniel #crystal reed #david zayas #liam o'donnell #scream factory #dvd #gift #sci fi #science fiction #sci fi horror #horror #sci fi action

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menacingmetal · 5 months

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Mass Effect spin off games/ideas i want:

Garrus, Liam or another c-sec detective in a mix of L.A noire and Detroit become human

Samara solo noir/action mission, maybe of her discovering the village worshipping Morinth or a story from Justicar Heroes

Kasumi in an assassin's creed/uncharted esque infiltration thief mission, maybe with Keiji and you can switch perspectives and hear their banter

Hitman but with Thane

Liara archeology cosy minigame lol, like the Pokemon d&p underground, with lore unlocked when finding stuff

Legion's videogames mixed intermittently with them tracking shepard down on uncharted worlds, or just the actual fleet and flotilla dating game

Gta/payday like game based on Omega

Miranda strategy game rescuing Oriana

The scrapped corsair game for the DS (what could of been ;-; )

Prothean call of duty?

Just a subnautica game based in mass effect, or civ/cities skylines/slime rancher with pyjaks?

Zaeed founding of the Blue Suns era

What the inside of the ship and world the virtual aliens reside in looks like, and a more in-depth story of when they came into contact with the Citadel

Uhhhh mass effect cooking mama lol

#mass effect #metal talks

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neonlustmusic · 11 months

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May 18, 2023

MARNI's WHISKEY GIRL is the best local, independent release to ever be released, aside, of course from Morning Harvester's Eastern/Western Skyline, which remains our favorite local release ever.

But WHISKEY GIRL is our 2nd favorite independent release from a Los Angeles-based artist since we started this blog. Released in Fall 2022, WHISKEY GIRL is a 7-song EP that will leave you dazed with its instrumentation, lyrics, and melodies. At times the album sounds indie folk/country (there is pedal steel on the acoustic "Manic") sometimes in the vein of Elliott Smith or Death Cab for Cutie, and sometimes ethereal like the Cocteau Twins, as in the song we are sharing here titled "I'm Home," which is simultaneously bleak and up-lifting. The song features heavy chorus effect to produce a hazy, damaged feeling and a wild, hypnotic solo that matches form and content perfectly: meandering solo; meandering emotions. It indulges in feelings of despair, and we are here for it.

The EP keeps the hits rolling. Songs like "Merry-Go-Round" are punishing, devastating pop in the realm of Bright Eyes "Letting Off the Happiness," with its slide guitar and doom-is-me lyrics. And "Airhead" features soothing vocals drenched in emotions, paired with cool riffs, and a groovy pleasant rhythm. We sincerely apologize that it has taken us an unacceptable amount of time to highlight the excellence contained within this sonic composition. However, with certain personal constraints and restrictions aside, we are finally here to bump the album on the eve of MARNI's first west coast tour. The band will hit L.A., Oakland, San Diego, Portland, and Seattle starting this weekend, May 20, 2023 (check out the tour poster below). These lucky cities will be treated to MARNI's nostalgic pop jams, which they have been consistently bringing to venues all across Los Angeles recently.

The band is led by Nicolas Lara, pictured below, who perpetually teases new songs in various states of production on the band's Instagram, suggesting the follow up to WHISKEY GIRL is just around the bend.

Do yourself a favor and check out the MARNI Whiskey Girl EP on Bandcamp or your favorite streaming site and folow MARNI on instagram. Thanks for reading!

#indierock #losangeles #slowcore #emocore #bright eyes

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hungrydogs-if · 2 years

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I’m not sure if this was ask before but could you please tell us why HDMC was made?

it hasn't been asked, but i love the question!

i'll attach the first ever draft of the night of the decision below a cut, but let's get to the explanation first.

it was dane's idea, of course. he'd been running with some crews in the past, all in an attempt to find a place he'd belong; it wasn't his job, it wasn't his family, it wasn't any of the other gangs he tried to join. the only place he felt like he belonged was whenever he and vp hung out, and he wanted to cling to that feeling as much as he could. maybe even bring it to the other misfits in san maro who were tossed aside to favor the rich and famous.

so it's a robin hood story, in a sense, but with a sad tinge. it was a stupid idea that felt more and more like a possibility, and a chance to do something with their lives other than follow the masses. it was a cry for freedom, and helping those who felt lost find a place to feel included and appreciated. it didn't start as a criminal club, but slowly it became a part of it. it was just recreational use with the drugs first, until the business of buying and selling became a norm. the guns were almost an accident, one member tangled into something they shouldn't have; it was the club that brokered a deal that worked in everyone's favor. it's a bit difficult to back out from international arms dealing, sadly. but the money is good and has taken care of many of the members' debts.

then it just grew to something bigger than either dane or the vp could imagine.

and so we come to the draft that begun it all; the night the dream became reality.

A sunset paints the San Maro skyline in a brilliant vibrancy you could almost call beautiful, if it wasn't for the superficial hellscape of a city it set behind.

Driving up to the Roxmar Overlook was a blessed break from that nightmare. A break from the rich, the entitled, and the desperate. Knockoff L.A. is starting to light up against the natural light, and you tear your eyes away from the high-rise buildings and antennas reaching too far up in the sky.

You shift on the concrete bench and guide your focus to you left, to your only companion on these weekly trips. Dane sits quietly, lounging on his Harley, arms stretched over the handlebars towards the horizon. Slack fingers flex, the multitude of rings glinting in the dying daylight. You almost let out a laugh at the sight; Very calendar-esque, the modeling industry would eat him up.

"I've been thinkin'."

The leather of his jacket creaks as he pulls himself upright and turns to you. You make a noise and raise a brow, tossing him the most unimpressed look you can manage.

"Watch out, might hurt something," you deadpan, and Dane's chuckle draws a smile out of you as well. "Asshole, oughta toss you off this cliff one of these days." Empty threats, and you give him an one-shouldered shrug.

For a minute, there is silence between you, and for a moment you're sure he forgot what he was going to say; It wouldn't be the first time. There's a pensive look in his eyes when you meet them, gunmetal blue almost white in the fading light washing over his face.

"We should found a motorcycle club."

Words don't conjure in your head and you blink, meeting the serious stare Dane has set on you. Finally, a very eloquent "what?" comes from you, and your brows furrow at the thought. The gravel crunches beneath Dane's boots when he shifts, face lit up with giddy excitement.

"Just us to begin with, but we could grow. Can you imagine? You and me against the world," his hand shoots to the side, gesturing over the city skyline, "and it begins right here."

You catch a wistful sigh when he turns away, his eyes on the city below. You follow the line of sight, mind churning with thoughts you can't quite slot together. The city sprawls tall and wide - No one would notice if you carved a piece of it for yourselves.

Yeah. Why the fuck not.

---

Hungry Dogs MC.

Laughs and jokes were tied to the origins of the name, but when registering it, Dane had been dead serious. He'd stated that hunger for something was relatable to anyone, all smiles, and the 'dog' came an afterthought. Though you heard his dad call him a mongrel more than on one occasion; later you found out this was one way of reclaiming the insult as something good.

#asks.#extra info: mona was one of the original three because she overheard dane's plans while fixing his bike #called him an irresponsible idiot #and showed him how to register the club as an official thing #snippet.

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