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heartsandhischier · 26 days

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'Devils Hockey' (blurb)

nico hischier x reader

summary - 690 words. misplaced 'Devils Hockey' sweater

author's note - there's just something about domestic life with Nico that makes me swoon

warnings - none

The morning dawned with the gentle hum of birdsong and the warm embrace of sunlight filtering through the curtains, cocooning the couple in its golden glow. Wrapped in the comforting embrace of her boyfriend, their bodies entwined beneath the soft duvet, it should have been a perfect start to the day, if it wasn’t for…

Beep beep

The intrusive sound pierced through her drowsy haze, prompting her to bury herself deeper beneath the covers in a futile attempt to block it out.

Beep beep

“Y/N,” Nico mumbled sleepily beside her. In a sleepy daze, her hand blindly searched for the source of the disturbance amidst the dimness of closed eyelids. Finally, her fingers brushed against the offending object – her phone, its bright screen nearly blinding in the darkness. 10:30am.

Fuck fuck FUCK

She hastily untangled herself from her boyfriend's grasp and the comfort of her bed, scrambling to find the nearest pieces of clothing. The infamous ‘chair’ held exactly what she needed – a sweater hastily discarded the night before – which she pulled on along with a pair of pants and socks. With a quick peck on her still-slumbering boyfriend’s cheek and a hurried goodbye, she grabbed her bag and keys before dashing out of the apartment. Late for her 10 o’clock shift, she drove like a maniac through the streets until she reached the shop in Hoboken. Breathless, she dashed through the entrance, apologizing profusely to her amused colleague who assured her it was fine as the customers had yet to arrive.

The day flew by with ease, filled with casual conversations with customers and assisting them with their purchases. Despite the effects of her lack of sleep, Y/N maintained her professional demeanor.

“That’ll be $49.99?” she smiled at the customer, processing the transaction as the familiar beep of confirmation echoed in her ears. She packed the purchased items into a bag, bidding the customer a farewell. “Thank you so much! And go Devils!” the man exclaimed fist bumping the air, before leaving, leaving her puzzled. It was an odd remark, though not entirely unexpected given her public relationship with Nico. she hadn’t realized she could be recognized so easily in public.

As Y/N made her way to tidy up the dressing rooms, she paused, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes widened as she noticed the unmistakable logo on her sweater: ‘Devils Hockey’. Panic surged through her as she realized she had inadvertently grabbed Nico’s sweater in her rush earlier. Nico was supposed to attend an afternoon practice, probably leaving it on the chair because he was going to wear it to practice.

Y/N delicately placed the keys on the dresser in the entranceway, the soft click of the door signaling her return to the apartment. Another set of keys laying beside hers, indicating that Nico had already returned from his afternoon practice.

“Hey Schätzli, have you seen my sweater?” Nico’s voice floated from the kitchen, drawing nearer as she continued to unpack her belongings from the day at work. “You know, the one that says ‘Devils Hockey’. I put it on the chair but couldn’t find it when…” His words trailed off as he lifted his gaze, a smile spreading across his face as he beheld his seemingly misplaced sweater adorning her figure.

“I’m so sorry, I was in such a rush this morning, I didn’t even realize…” Y/N’s apology was cut short by Nico wrapping his arms around her waist, his lips meeting hers in a soft kiss that quieted her frantic thoughts. “It looks good on you,” he remarked with a smile, his warm brown eyes radiating comfort and reassurance, easing her anxiety.

She chuckled, leaning into him, resting her head against his chest. “I’m sorry for waking you up,” she murmured softly. “It’s fine, I couldn’t sleep anyway,” he replied, his fingers gently tracing circles on her back.

Pulling away slightly, Nico looked down at her with a gentle smile. “But I could definitely use a little nap right now,” he suggested, his eyes twinkling with warmth. “Me too,” she agreed, returning his smile.

#nico hischier x you #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier fanfic #nico hischier #nh13 #nhl fanfic #hockey fanfic #hockey fic #new jersey devils #new jersey devils fic #new jersey devils imagine #new jersey devils x reader #nhl fanfiction #nj devils #njd #nico hischier x y/n

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felassan · 18 days

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The red lyrium idol [x]

((I’m 👁️ at the golden-leaved foliage and the cracks shown in this image with the idol btw. those trees have been showing up now and again in DA:D promo art & concept art - associated with stuff/places like Arlathan Forest, the Veil Jumpers, yknow, like that Fade-y/magic-y locale with floating rocks etc [examples], and in the Golden/Black City and the big dragon’s wings on the vinyl album cover art. the cracks remind me of stuff like this and the crumbling effect in the new DA:D logo.))

#dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #dragon age: the missing #dragon age: the missing spoilers

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delopsia · 8 months

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Polaroid | Bob Floyd x Reader

Word Count: 3,200 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, unprotected sex, fighting for dominance/power struggle, slight jealous/possessive Bob, inappropriate usage of a motorcycle and a Polaroid camera. Brief Summary: Bob doesn't like how touchy Mav's been with you. Solution? Fucking you against Mav's bike and using his camera to memorialize the moment. But you've got an idea of your own.

Lightning flickers just outside, a brief flash of white light piercing through the tiny, square garage door windows. Such a swift appearance, and yet, you can already tell that it's brighter than the single light bulb posted in the center of the garage. Dull golden hues paint the room in even dimmer shades of bronze. So poorly lit that you can hardly see the silvery 'Kawasaki' logo of Mav's motorcycle, mere inches away from your nose.

Thunder booms. That bleak little bulb fades out for the briefest moment as the house rattles. Whistling wind howls around the corners, shaking the garage door, threatening to tear it down and blow your cover at any moment.

But, fuck is it hard to focus on anything that isn't the soft tap, tap, tap of a velvety cockhead at your entrance. Doing nothing more than spread you open and let you feel the light pressure as he breaches you, only to pull away and repeat it all over again.

Your barefoot lifts off the ground, blindly kicking behind yourself. That might be a shin that you make contact with, but it very well could be another piece of junk on Bradley's garage floor. "Hurry up, asshole."

Bob's halfhearted chuckle almost sounds like the low rumble of thunder, "I will, I will."

But all that does is change his method of torment. Lazily sliding himself between your folds, length rubbing past your swollen clit, sends a frustrating shiver up your spine.

Light flashes.

As white as lightning, but it didn't come from outside.

Click.

That mechanical whirr sounds like...

"Did you just take a damn picture?" But your question is answered the moment you turn your head because there's Bobby, setting that silvery Polaroid camera back onto the table. A thin white piece of film hanging between his upturned lips, color yet to develop. "Isn't that—that's Mav's camera!"

"I know it," Bob's pocketing that dumb little photo without a second thought, jaw flexing as it clenches, "ain't like he's gonna notice."

Pressure blooms as that wet, thick cock head begins to push into you, effectively shoving your thoughts from your own mind. Excess lubricant squelching as that thick tip fully slips inside of you so suddenly that your knees shudder. Pussy stretched wide around him, still tender from how he bent you over the kitchen counter this morning before the coffee had even finished brewing.

Fingertips swirl around your hips, tickling the skin there as he eases in. Your head is too heavy to hold up, forehead thumping against the soft leather of Mav's motorcycle seat. Such an odd place for him to have you out of all of the hiding spaces in Bradley's house.

If you'd known that a nightmare of a storm would force the semi-annual Dagger Squad Cookout into an unplanned sleepover, you would have bugged Bob to bring condoms. Something about these events always leaves you heading home with a limp in your step.

"Look so pretty like this," Bob's big palms span out against your ass, squeezing greedy handfuls of you, unaware of how his cock pushes a desperate gasp from your burning lungs. "Takin' my cock so well."

It's hard recalling just when your eyes fell shut, but you're opening them. Peering over your shoulder once more, mouth opening, but unable to ask him to hurry up. Finish getting inside before your weary legs shudder out from under you.

He hears you.

You don't say a word, but he hears you.

His sweaty palm runs up your spine, hips tilting forward in earnest now. That dull pressure growing into an aching burn as your pussy flutters around him, split wide. You haven't the slightest clue what the rest of his Navy buddies are packing, but you've got the sneaking suspicion that Bob's the thickest one here. Obnoxiously sized to add to that unsuspecting personality of his.

Always the quiet ones.

"Hurry up," your weak voice is hardly able to get out of your mouth, vocal cords strung too tight, "Mav's gonna lose his shit if he finds us in here."

Those big hands grip your waist, holding you still as he draws back agonizingly slow. Paint could dry faster, but fuck does he rub against those sensitive spots so nicely. Perfectly sculpted, like he was made just for you. "I don't care about what that ol' bastard has to say," his tone a little rigid, not its typical lightness.

Is he... "Are you jealous?"

His hips snap forward. Smugly slamming that thick length of his back into you, punches a wail right out of your throat. Your knees nearly buckle. Body bouncing forward a little too far, the frame of a thirty-thousand-dollar motorcycle rocking with you. "Nope."

Fuck fuck fuck you've struck a nerve.

"You're jealous!" And you'd be looking over your shoulder to get a glimpse of his face if he weren't leaning down. Pressing his clothed chest up against your back, bodies snug together, bouncing with each tentative thrust. Figuring out his pace.

"I'm not jealous," sharp teeth nip at the shell of your ear, his hot breath tickling, "I'm being perfectly reasonable."

Because being reasonable involves him bending you over Maverick's motorcycle. A reasonable man takes someone else's Polaroid camera to snap a photo of your cunt wrapped around his cock. But you can't complain about this form of reasonable because it is downright delicious.

Possessive hands dip beneath your shirt, feeling the expanse of your body beneath his touch as he fucks you. Soft puffs of breath knocked from your lungs with every

"That old man is so fucking touchy, sometimes I just wanna..." but he doesn't finish that sentence. Too distracted by the lewd squelch of your pussy, so loud in this garage.

Wind shakes the garage door like an angry fist, howling as it tries to squeeze through the minuscule gaps in the corners. A breeze is all that slips past, licking past your ankles. Only seems to make the room colder when Bob peels away from you, rhythm stalling as he reaches for something on the table.

A second flash tears through the room. Some dumb little whirring sound follows in hot pursuit.

And whatever picture he's taken must be a good one because he doesn't start moving again. Too fixated on that dumb little square that has hardly developed yet. Doesn't respond when you wriggle your hips backward, doing the work your damn self.

This is a horrible position. Legs too far apart to do much, can't pull too far forward without rocking Maverick's beloved motorcycle, gas in the tank sloshing. A warning that you want nothing more of.

But it's easy to stand up properly.

Letting Bobby's cock slip out of you as your back straightens, the garage floor cold against your bare feet as you turn to face the bastard himself. His mouth is moving, but nothing comes out. Unable to make a noise as your fingers tangle in soft, messy hair and pull.

"Ow, ow, ow," he squeaks, eyes scrunching shut as you manhandle him. Knees thunking painfully against cold concrete, unable to do more than paw at your hand as you push him onto his back.

Those glasses jostle, sliding further up his face, and it's almost enough to loosen your grip on his hair.

Almost.

"If you're going to fuck me against Mav's bike because you're jealous," you grit, pulling his head back impossibly further, all to get a better look at his pretty pale neck. "Then you'd better do it right."

His cock bounces against his belly, lube staining his shirt, the only one he has for the night. Angry, flushed tip begging for your attention, twitching when you wrap your hand around him. A little too firm as you pump him, downright squeezing that little grunt out of him.

"I'm sorry," his fist shakes, waving that little polaroid in the air, "I was...it developed, and I—ah!"

His back lifts off the ground, torn between chasing and squirming away from the swift thumb that rubs at the underside of his head. And you think that just might be a little bit of precum that spills out of him, coating your already drenched hand.

True to his word, one of the photos already developed. It's hard to tell which one it is or when it was taken, but even in the poor lighting of the picture, the sight is unmistakable. You. Head down against Maverick's motorcycle seat, Bob's cock only halfway in you, shirt pushed up to reveal your naked back.

Now you see why he was so distracted.

Letting loose of his hair, you begin to move. Properly settling into his lap now, guiding him back up into your aching cunt. So sore already, and you're not even close yet.

Those pretty blue eyes roll back, chest rising with a gasp, "shit."

The camera hits the ground with a clatter, falling right out of his hand without a second thought. No concern of whether it's broken or not, too focused on touching you instead. Clammy palms roaming beneath your shirt, clinging as you sink down on him. Always has to be touching you.

You're already seizing one of them, ignoring how much bigger his hand is compared to yours, as you drag his calloused fingers down between your legs. He doesn't need any further encouragement, pressing a rough thumb against your neglected clit without a second thought.

"That's it," you breathe; now it's your turn to dip beneath his shirt. Hands roaming past soft belly and hard chest, feeling the way he shudders beneath your wandering touch. Such a subtle motion that seems to burn itself beneath your eyelids.

The concrete floor is cold against your knees, biting at your skin as you begin to move. Uncomfortable, but it's still better than the truck bed you rode him in a few weeks ago. And it's so easy to ignore when Bob's hips swivel, fat cock nudging against a small bundle of nerves inside of you.

All the while, his thumb is finding swirls lazily, struggling to keep up with the quick motion of your body. And it's not the best that he can do, but it's got your heart pounding in your chest regardless. Downright panting like a dog as you take what you want, so wrapped up in the way that he fills you.

Stars sparkle in your vision, mottling your near picture-perfect view of Bob's flushed face. Glasses and hair askew, half-lidded eyes peering up at you like you're a work of art. Grunting with every quick meet of your hips, the sound of skin on skin bouncing off the bare walls.

"I've given you an idea, haven't I?" Bob's panting, more of a statement than a question, because there can only be one reason that you're picking up the camera.

It's hard to aim this old thing; too close to really see much, forcing you to lean backward. Color is already beginning to spread across the film as it whirrs out of the camera. What looks to be the soft outline of glasses, or maybe that's his watch...

God, do you hope that the flash doesn't erase the strawberry red from Bobby's cheeks in the final product because it is everything.

A whimper rattles out from beneath you.

Bob's hips impatiently squirm, bucking up into your now still body. Needy. Desperate for you to do something, anything. Put into the same conundrum he put you into just a few minutes ago.

"What?" Fighting back your smile, "Something the matter, Bobby?" This wasn't planned, but oh, are you gonna commit to it. Such a perfect situation dropped right into your lap.

His eyebrows knit together, nose scrunching with it, "Y'know there is."

But he doesn't elaborate any further, and you're having too much fun watching him writhe to let him out of it easily. Feigning innocence, cocking your head to the side and all. No, you truly have no idea why he could be so fussy beneath you right now.

"There is?" You chirp as innocently as you can muster. A little too fake.

A little too much for the man beneath you.

Your back hits cold, hard ground. Head cushioned by a big hand that's settled behind it, a strong body settling atop of yours. Legs spread impossibly wide, unable to do anything but kick your heels against Bobby's ass.

"'m too close for y'to be pullin' this shit," fuck, fuck, fuck, that childhood accent of his is coming out.

And there's not a damn thing you can do but drop everything in your hands and dig your nails into his biceps because he's already beginning to fuck into you. Knocks the air from your lungs with every thrust in, balls smacking heavily against you. Cock head hitting those little nerves dead on. Has a tingling settling into your inner thighs.

"Yeah, now y'got nothin' t'say, do ya?" He's grunting into your ear, sharp teeth nipping the shell of it. That deep voice alone shouldn't have you clamping down around him the way you do, thighs fluttering as they try to squeeze him tighter. Closer.

Yet you can do nothing to slow those unrelenting thrusts; no, if anything, you spur him on even further. Drawn into a frenzy by the way your cunt spasms around him, overwhelmed and stretched to your damn limit. Knocking little sounds out of you that you don't recognize, pitchy, almost pitiful.

"Touch yourself for me," he orders it as if you could possibly need anything more. Heat already pools low in your belly, bubbling to the surface. "C'mon, wanna feel your lil pussy cum 'round me."

But there goes your hand. Reaching down between your tightly pressed bodies, barely enough space for you to crook your fingers and press the pads of them to your swollen clit. Spiraling in their favorite fashion, rubbing over it once, twice—

The heat coiling in your abdomen snaps.

Spreading across every inch of your body as your back arches off the frigid floor, cumming with a cry that's muffled by Bob's sweaty palm clamping over your mouth. Pussy spasming around his still-pistoning dick, clenching tight. Every nudge of his plush head against those nerves enough to have you jolting, head too cloudy to do anything else.

Dully, you're aware of a sudden stillness as Bob cums. Heat spilling into you, promising to leave a sticky mess that you can't be fucked to worry about right now. And then there's that heaviness that follows, all hundred and eighty pounds of him settling on top of you like a weighted blanket.

A weighted blanket that gives lots and lots of kisses.

Peppering over your cheeks, across your jaw, and down your sweaty neck. Not skipping the opportunity to love on every protruding vein and imperfection your body has to offer. That remarkably cold nose taps at you with each one, like a little piece of hail that's gotten in through the garage door.

"I don't know whether to thank Mav or to kick his ass," you croak. Has your throat always been so dry? It takes a moment to get your eyes open; already that time of night when closing your eyes comes with a risk of dozing off until morning.

There he is.

That dumb, soft face with his equally dumb cherry-red ears. You can't help but reach up and squish one of those flushed cheeks, watching how pale blue eyes track your every movement. Could very well dodge your torment if he wanted to, but he doesn't seem to take any interest in that.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" He murmurs, leaning against your hand. It can't be comfortable, holding himself in this position, oversensitive cock still lodged deep inside of you, bony knees and elbows digging into the ground. Yet he doesn't move.

Your head shakes, "I would have told you if you did."

There's that soft grin of his. Taking over his features as he leans in to press his lips against yours, too lazy for anything but a chaste peck that he sighs into. Then a second, and a third, until teeth clatter together because you're smiling too much.

His elbow cracks as he leans back onto his haunches, properly pulling himself out of you now. And you almost wish he didn't because you can already feel his cum beginning to leak out of you.

Without a word, he reaches for the camera resting next to you.

To say that you're surprised is an overstatement. "Are you taking another picture?"

"Uhuh," one of Bob's eyes scrunch shut as he peers through the little viewfinder. Looks like a proper damn photographer as he takes one more photo.

"You know that Mav's gonna notice the missing film, right?" It's not even a doubt in your mind that he'll notice before he's finished his coffee. Has been meticulously photographing anything and everything he finds worthy of going into his album, from a plain coffee mug to Javy climbing a tree in pursuit of the neighbor's cat.

"I know it," Bob hums, setting the camera down in favor of reaching for the scattering of discarded pictures, "and I hope the touchy bastard spends forever wonderin' where it went."

His hand disappears into his back pocket, producing a worn, leather wallet that's four years older than your relationship. Fraying at the edges but still sturdy.

"You're putting them all in your wallet?" You ask it as if it's not exactly what he's doing.

"Yeah," but he freezes. Blinking rapidly as he glances back up at you. "Did you want one to put in yours?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," and with that said, you're reaching for the camera. Scooping it off the ground just one more time, aiming it right up at him.

And for once, he doesn't try to dodge the camera. Holding still and letting you snap the photo you're after. Some little unsuspecting shot of his sleepy face and lazy smile, the kind of thing that nobody would be able to tell the context of.

Because, unlike Bob, you don't enjoy having a mini heart attack every time you open your wallet around someone.

Getting off the ground is a task all on its own. Two tired bodies bumping into each other, trying to help but only serving to make the situation even worse. Your pants lie discarded on top of a workbench; how they got there, you have no idea, and Bob trips on the singular step out of the garage.

Miraculously, nobody has woken up during your escapades. Not a soul awake as you skitter towards the spare bedroom you've been given, hand in hand.

But you do wake up to the sound of Maverick accusing Jake of 'taking his camera out for a joyride.'

"Least he ain't noticed that his bike was taken out for a joyride, too," Bob whispers into your temple, voice so groggy that you can hardly understand him.

Opening your eyes is not a task you're about to undertake, still clinging to the sweet, cozy embrace of sleep. So close that you can reach out and touch it. "You're lucky he's not your instructor anymore."

"Y'don't wanna see me do two hundred pushups?"

Your eyes snap open. "On second thought," but Bob's rolling on top of you before you can even pretend to get up and tell Maverick of your crimes.

A pair of Polaroid cameras arrive at your house within the week. With an album that you can't wait to fill.

#x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #oneshot #top gun smut #bob fucks #bob floyd x reader #reader insert #robert floyd #robert floyd x reader #self insert #reader self insert

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accio-victuuri · 3 months

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i’m a bit late for this and honestly thought about skipping this cpn cause i’m not that 👀 to it. but i understand why cpfs made the connection & i’m not exactly the judge of what cpns will be important later on. that’s why i try to document as much as i can. so what we’re talking about is the connection between the tod’s strap given by xz to media friends this year and the (alleged) gucci strap worn by wyb during SDC 5.

at the time, we were more focused on the use of hibiscus flower and this strap that looked like gucci was only mentioned. it’s like him wearing the lion head gucci necklace from a brand that he has no official ties with, especially for that year and even before that. then you have zz who is gucci’s golden boy. another question was why would he give a strap like that, is that even something that zz does? and now we have the answer, yes he does.

during SDC5, no wardrobe account identified what this strap is too. which when it happens could either be 1: they can’t identify it and for this instance i understand cause it’s not that unique and no logos to identify it as you would expect from an accessory. 2: they don’t wanna address it cause it will cause some fandom drama. in this case, i have a strong feeling that it’s the latter. 🙃

the particular gucci item people are pointing at is this drawstring bag from their 2017 collection. we know that zz have always been a gucci boy so it’s possible he had this or got it from somewhere that sells old styles more recently. i can’t seem to find a confirmation if this drawstring can be removed.

this other style is removable but i don’t think xz gravitates towards this kind of bag. the eccentric look of the ones above is more in line with him.

we are now interpreting this as, xz already had this from years back and decided to remove the drawstring and give it to wyb to incorporate in his SDC look. the use of hibiscus in this fit is definitely not a coincidence and the addition of the rope was another symbol. if like me, you think that SDC is a show that gave us much loved cpns & that xz is fond of the show, this makes more sense.

the significance of zz choosing to give out these tod’s straps confirms that:

1. He like this kind of design, the intertwined rope effect which we see in both tod’s and gucci.

2. He likes this “strap” accessories. Usually, when you think about luxury items, the focus is bags/clothes/shoes. Smaller accessories is all about the jewelry or even card holders. So it’s not really a common preference.

3. It is something that he will gift. Tho with Bobo, it’s really more personal. Maybe that bag had some history with him that we will never know about that’s why gave it to WYB. 🤷🏻‍♀️

bonus interpretation 😂😂😂😂 ⬇️⬇️

source.

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

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thatoneluckybee · 5 months

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School Bus Graveyard Episode 61 Thoughts

Okay thoughts time cause HU!HG?!?Q>?

The logo was altered!! Not by much but I love the detail that some falling rubble was covering the edges of the logo at the beginning of the episode.

Ben holding/protecting Tyler under the (table? desk?) is everything to me. Ben Clark is a golden retriever in all the best ways. I am dealing with the after effects of the Ben Fever we all got a few weeks ago.

Same goes for Taylor protecting Ashlyn! It’s so cute and Taylor has been coming in CLUTCH lately. I’m so excited for this development with her after Tyler’s injury. I just hope she’s able to target her (rightful) anger at the right people and not at the rest of the group. (Also ASHLYN CRYING BABY NO)

“Wanna Know How I Got These Scars?” Aiden, no, we do not, put your eyes back in please. (Also—I LOVE the shading and dramatic effects on this panel.)

Okay, the parents are DEFINITELY being affected by the rift and Phantom Dimension. Mike was dizzy when the kids all came back!! And I love how responsible both of Ashlyn’s parents (as well as everyone else so far) are being—Immediately jumping in to help when it sounds like someone is in trouble. I just hope this serves as a wake-up call for Aiden’s mom and dad.

We’ve seen Ashlyn scared before but… holy cow I don’t think she’s been pictured as this terrified before. And rightfully so! I want to give her a hug and a chocolate milk. Also, I adore how Logan immediately noticed and rushed to help. He’s really grown in his emotional maturity over the series and I’m loving the payoff.

Yes, honey, you are becoming phantoms. Is this confirmation of the theory? I’ll take it as confirmation of the theory.

…The parallels between the earlier panel of Tyler “waking up” vs Aiden now is…. oh my. And the altered text was DEEPLY disturbing. But I had to try not to laugh at imagining what he sounds like right now. Probably like he’s a 40 year old man who’s smoked a six-pack ev’ry night since way back when.

LILY BABY NooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO and Aiden IMMEDIATELY being concerned about Ashlyn is everything. In all honestly the ship concerned me at the beginning but I am ALL ABOARD and ready to set sail now. They both have grown so much and while it would have been iffy at the start it’s becoming a really sweet and wholesome relationship, regardless of whether it stays platonic or divulges into romance.

The flashbacks were INSANE. But also, let’s take a moment seeing these to appreciate HOW MUCH THE ART HAS IMPROVED!!! Supersupersuper proud of Red and her entire team. This was like a short montage of the growth and I love that so much. Also…. could this potentially count as an “oh” moment for Ashlyn?? And the immediate jump afterwards to Aiden’s maybe-dead-maybe-not body was such incredibly timed and perfected formatted whiplash!!!!!

Ashlyn initiating the contact was huge for her. We know she isn’t a fan of touchy-feely stuff or close contact so this is big. I thing there was a “some people are worth being uncomfortable for” comic with the BTW and TBH creature that sums up my thoughts on this? But yeah, I loved this. She’s growing more comfortable AND this was entirely respectful of her boundaries while also allowing her to push past her comfort zone? Amazing.

”So this is what it feels like” uhhhhhhhh I need a seperate ramble post for this cause I don’t want to trigger tag this one and have it filtered but I have… a lot to say. Very relatable and makes me appreciate these characters more. I love how this whole short scene was pulled off though. Definitely a lot of emotions for this one, I had to pause for a moment to process.

“I don’t like how much she’s shaking” MY HEART

Aaaaand THANK YOU RED FOR ANOTHER AMAZING EPISODE!!! I’ve got so many longer thoughts and theories and ideas and rambels and AUGHHHHHHH I can’t fit them all!!!

#school bus graveyard #sbg #rambles #logan fields #ashlyn banner #aiden clark #ben clark #taylor hernandez #tyler hernandez #ashden #aidlyn

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yakool-foolio · 28 days

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see maybe this is just me, but As A Character Designer Myself i think the rain code designs are some of komatzuzaki's best work yet. they're weird and campy and yet they work so well. i do think the characters' personalities shine through on first and second glances. I don't even usually like neon colors but I think the combo of bright neons with understated neutrals is so fascinating and memorable. no one else does it like this. a lot of the small details on the designs are actually packed with symbolic meaning (esp. yakou's - I'd love to see you unpack all that) and the overabundance of logos is evocative of the corpo-cyber-future setting. the rain code designs feel much more cohesive in terms of that setting than the DR designs do - which makes sense bc DR is more about disparate people being united by their circumstances - dialed to 11 in v3 where the designs are at their wackiest. but this ain't about her this is about rain code.

I love that characters you wouldn't expect (zange, fubuki, priest...) have weird facial piercings and tattoos. I love that the animal ears are never explained. I love desuhiko's tboy swag and yeah, the golden yellow and the dirty blonde and the neon yellow accents don't look great together - and I think the clashing colors work wonders to establish his personality. this kid dressed himself and thought it would make him look cool. you idiot. aphex's hat is stupid. zilch's ears are stupid. vivia's bandages-instead-of-clothes are stupid - and yet reading into that choice is very insightful. (he puts on a lazy air but if he was really lazy he'd just put on an oversized emo band tee instead of wrapping himself up like a mummy every day. he actually does care about how he comes across to people.)

there's a few videos about fashion YouTubers judging the DR fits, and at one point they brought in Yuma and shinigami and they hated yuma's outfit so much because it's dorky and they wouldn't wear it. but like!!! that's the whole point is that it's dorky!!!! his little trainee shorts. his stupid fkin bowl cut making him look like a little boy whose mom still cuts his hair. (which of course turns out to be a meaningful deception. his haircut influences how the audience and other characters see him to great effect.) and yet he has the coolest fkin shoes ever and when he puts his hat and cape on he's got such an iconic silhouette. teru teru bozu lookin ass /pos.

anyway yeah. i wasnt a fan of komatzuzaki's designs in the beginning but over the years ive come around. I'm a firm designer that a character design doesn't necessarily have to look good to be a good character design. I like it when they aren't afraid to make the characters look cringe - I love cringe. I eat it up. thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

Even more perspectives! I think your take of 'bad-looking designs can be good actually' is a great way to look at Rain Code's characters. To put it simply, it's unique! 'Nobody does it like Komatsuzaki'-kind of campiness. Honestly, Rain Code's designs remind me a lot of Danganronpa 2's designs in terms of color. That cast is full of much brighter colors compared to the lesser saturation of DR1 n V3's cast colors. And it makes sense cause it's a brighter game overall in terms of setting and upping the ridiculousness of the killing game in every way! Rain Code sorta follows that with its own designs by crankin' up the neons to really ride the idea home that this game is wacky right from the get-go and it's a Resident Evil game in disguise! And y'know what Resident Evil loves to indulge in? Campiness! Rain Code wears its inspirations on its sleeve, and that's totally chill.

As a sidenote to your sidenote regarding Yakou's clothing details, I have actually written a bit about how he might perceive them, but I haven't yet written about what they could truly mean in terms of how they relate to him narratively. The meaning of the phoenix patterns are painfully obvious though heh. And I also greatly appreciate the recognition that Vivia really does care about his appearance despite his 'laziness'. His hedonistic lifestyle includes his own attire, wearing whatever he pleases no matter the effort! Like I've preached before, Vivia has the energy, he just prefers to use it only when necessary.

Thank you for the TED talk *golf claps*

#okay another sidenote in tags cause i couldn't find a space to comprehensibly add it to the post:#i've also seen those dr fashion videos they're super fun #n i love yuma's teru teru bozu silhouette #they really knew what they were doing with him n it worked perfectly *chef's kiss*#master detective archives: rain code #rain code

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silvergolddraco28 · 7 months

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Open Roleplay - Shadow of the Golden Sun

Yandere/Dark Macaque x Sun Wukong

Cannon Divergent timeline. Starts right after Mk meets Macaque and begins training with the Shadow Monkey.

A brown-eyed teenager dressed in a mostly plain white shirt, red jeans, black sneakers, and a bright orange jacket with a smiling monkey logo on the back stood on a rooftop holding a red and gold staff in his hands with mild confusion and wonder spreading across his face. He blinked as he looked over the black furred, amber eyed, tanned skinned, seven foot tall humanoid monkey dressed in a half yellow shirt that left his right side bare, paired with an armored skirt and maroon pants with a pair of black boots. “You're not Monkey King.” The teen stated blinking at the crouching simian effortlessly balanced on a round pipe with his tail swaying like a cat’s.

The simian chuckled with amusement on his face. “Yeah, I get confused for him a lot. Not many monkey demons especially when none have seen the Great Sage in person. Monkie Kid I’d assume?” The simian asked standing to his full height while crossing his arms in a relaxed pose.

The teen gave a sheepish look at the taller simian. ‘Dang, this guy must be at least a foot taller than Monkey King. Why does every demon I meet gotta be taller than me?!’ the teen mentally laminated. “Yeah, Mk is fine though.” the teen replied.

The black monkey chuckled again with a smirk on his face. “Macaque, Six Earred Macaque.” The simian, Macaque, introduced himself to the teen. “With that out of the way I better get going, see you around Kid.”

Macaque turned letting the scarf-like cape wrapped around his shoulders flutter behind him before the ten reached out to grab the edge of the cape. “Wait! Can you show me how you did that move to send that kaiju away?!” the teen asked immediately letting go of the scarf-like cape as the hard gaze directed towards him. ‘Okay, he doesn't like his scarf being touched.’ Mk noted as the hard gaze relaxed.

“I don’t know there Bud. You already have one teacher, you really need another that’s probably not as good as the Great Sage himself?” Macaque questioned the teen hands behind his back as he watched the teen think.

Mk nodded without hesitation. “He might be ‘teaching’ me but it's all just useless junk and a complete waste of time. I want to learn how to fight and how to master my powers not swing a hammer all day long into a wall!” Mk ranted about the crappy method the Great Sage was using to teach Mk.

Macaque smirked and for a moment purple and blue power shined in his eyes. “If you think you can keep up Kid I have no complaints but I've been told I'm a hard taskmaster to please.” He held out a hand to the young teen. “I’ll teach you until you can effectively hold your own against the Great Sage. Does that sound like a deal?”

Mk grinned and grasped the hand that was held out. “You got a deal.” Mk spoke before a ‘sinister’ feeling of power crawled up his arm from Macaque holding his hand. He felt power unlike Monkey King’s enter his body and slowly *twist* both his body and mind. Macaque simply watched the teen still holding his hand in a firm grip react to his magic flooding the teen’s body which began to shrink and change. By the end of the little show, a small dark chocolate-brown humanoid monkey cub sat in a pool of clothes waving twin tails while blinking large golden eyes up at Macaque before looking around in pure wonder showing off six lotus petal ears colored a deep blue with specks of white and gold.

A wicked grin spread on the black simian’s face. “So… you see him as our cub, Peaches?” Macaque hummed picking up the curious cub. Mk chirped instinctively grasping the simian’s tunic and fur wagging his little twin tails while imprinting the black simian as a parent.

And that's all I have so far… I'm much better at writing Wukong and Mk then I am Macaque.

#fanfiction #lmk au #lego monkie kid #shadowpeach #collab help #cowrite #sun wuking x macaque #amwriting #lmk rp

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raquellemonsta · 7 months

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the sweet things in life (tsukishima kei x reader)

previous || next

chapter 11: weekend tournament

You were happy that you were on good terms with Mei and Moriko again. You had forgotten how nice it was to not have your entire life revolve around schoolwork and your club. Plus, you could tell them about all the guys without any judgement, since neither of them were volleyball fangirls (even if Mei seemed like she would be). As a matter of fact, you were texting Mei, trying to pass the time on the bus ride. The team was headed to Tokyo again, this time for a tournament. You were sitting next to Tsukishima (so as to not make the same mistake as you did on the way to the training camp), who was sitting stone-faced listening to his music and staring out the window.

You smiled when you noticed his side profile. He was one of those guys blessed with naturally beautiful, long lashes. It made you a little jealous that guys could have effortlessly outstanding eyelashes while many a girl struggled with theirs. The slope of his nose wasn't very defined, instead it was long and thin, but it still made his face alluring. And don't even get you started on his lips (that you definitely hadn't dreamed of having on yours). He was pretty. That was the best way to describe him, plain and simple.

He must've noticed you staring at him because when you snapped out of your dreamy daze his golden brown eyes were staring intensely into yours. It took all of your self control to keep from leaning in and kissing him. You maintained your manager decorum, of course. You knocked knees with him mockingly before turning away to see how everyone else was doing. You heard him scoff playfully and kick your foot.

You opted to ignore him, though, because Yachi was excitedly showing you some designs for a Karasuno volleyball 'logo' she had made for fun. She was a very talented drawer, and she had told you it was a real passion of hers. They were pretty impressive sketches, though some of them could definitely be improved.

That was able to pass the time, because sooner than you could believe the bus had reached its destination: a weekend tournament which had no effect on any of the other qualifiers or interhigh. Basically, it was just to serve as a fun and helpful side competition for teams to play with others.

Walking in, Kiyoko began to pull you and Yachi away from the rest of the team. You mouthed to Tsukki for him to 'save you a seat', though you have no idea if he even understood because he merely stared at you blankly.

You carried out all of your standard manager duties, though your load was about half of what it had been now that Yachi was becoming more established in her role. You guys met up with the other managers to consult with the referees and see what needed to be set up and brought. After, you filled up six water bottles and brought the carrying case up into the stands, where the boys were. You saw there was in fact a seat saved for you next to Tsukishima, with his bag in the other seat. It was kind of weird to not see Yamaguchi attached to his hip, but you couldn't say you weren't happy to see him save you a seat.

Maneuvering around some of the upperclassmen, you made your way over and collapsed next to Tsukki, setting the carrier in the seat next to you.

"Hey" you smiled cheekily at him, slightly exasperated from the trek you had just made. You watched as he side-eyed you before snickering to himself. You gave him a look and dramatically 'hmphed' before crossing your arms, mirroring him. He only shook his head and pulled out his phone. It was a touch screen, slightly newer than yours. You watched what he was doing over his shoulder, which was scrolling through a news tab and stopping on one about paleontology. 'Such a nerd' you thought to yourself. You lost interest and flipped open your phone to text your friends and half-watch the match below to try and pass the time before Karasuno would play.

"Is Fukurodani here?" you absentmindedly questioned, not taking your eyes off of your phone.

"Bokuto is on the court right now, (L/n)" Asahi lightly chuckled.

"Oops" you finally looked to the court and were unsure how you had ever missed him to begin with. He was just as loud and boisterous as he had been during the training camp. You swore you heard Tsukishima let out a signature 'tch', but you didn't dignify it with a response. You stuck your tongue out at him teasingly before you heard Daichi.

"Alright guys, we should probably start stretching" he stood up. The guys excitedly got up, and you put your phone away in your bag before standing. They would be playing some team you hadn't heard of before from Tokyo. You watched them do their regular stretches in the hallway before you all made your way into the gym so they could begin their warmups.

-----

After winning their first match, Karasuno would face Fukurodani. You were sure you could already hear Bokuto blabbing on about getting to play against Hinata and Tsukishima. Speaking of the tall boy, you had been mesmerized by him during the first match.

Kiyoko had put you in charge of marking stats, since Yachi still wasn't confident enough that she would do it right. You actually enjoyed it, even though it could sometimes take you out of the general excitement that the rest of the team felt because you had to focus. You stood next to Yachi, so that she could watch the game and help in case you missed anything (not that you ever did, you were a very meticulous manager).

Daichi was up to serve. Asahi, Tsukishima, and Kageyama were all in the front row, while Noya and Tanaka were in the back (Coach Ukai had decided to start with the regular lineup and would switch players out as the match progressed). You were doing a decent job keeping up with the boys fast-paced actions, though you paid more attention to the front row since that was the area that was usually hardest to keep up with.

That was when Tsukishima blocked the other player's opposite hitter. You quickly put a tally near his name under the block section (which he almost always had the most of) and looked up from the clipboard only to make eye contact with him. You felt your stomach drop and for a second considered the possibility that it could have been a coincidence.

You realized that was highly unlikely when the other team called for a timeout and he came to stand right next to you.

Takeda took the opportunity to give his own encouraging talk and congratulate the guys on their playing so far. You were doing your best to pay attention to him and nod along with what he was saying, when you felt a hand on yours bring the board up near your eye level. In awe, you looked up and were met with none other than Tsukki, eyes locked intently on the board for several seconds before shifting to you.

"What do you think you're doing?" you did your best not to trip over your words. It was hard when his giant hands were still over yours. You also kept your voice quiet so you wouldn't take eyes away from Takeda. He only gave you a snarky smirk.

"Just want to make sure you're actually paying attention" he whispered, and you swore you felt literal chills down your spine. He finally removed his hands from yours and it took all of your self control to not reach for one again.

This crush was getting ridiculous, but it was just so hard to deny.

The Fukurodani game was admittedly much more exciting, likely because they were better and you knew more of their players than the previous opponents. You brightly smiled at Bokuto as he excitedly waved at you and Yachi. Yachi's eyes widened at the attention and you gave her a playful jab. She looked over to you with an equally surprised look before smiling and even lightly laughing along with you.

You turned your attention to the court to see the regular starting lineup waiting for the ref. Glancing around to make sure everyone was in place, you locked eyes with Tsukki again, giving him a smile and a small wave. In return, he gave you a somewhat comical peace sign though you didn't know if he was smiling back. You had to hold back a laugh and even bigger smile by covering your mouth with your hand, which caused him to smirk and turn away.

Yachi jabbed you with a knowing look on her face, which caused your own to heat up. Clearly, you were being obvious.

As the match progressed, you kept tallying stats and conversing with Yachi whenever you could. You were happy that you were gaining a close girl friend that would be around the rest of your high school career, at the very least.

Things became interesting when Bokuto was in the front row at the same time as Tsukishima. As one of the top aces in Japan, it was no small feat to stop Fukurodani's captain. That was why you couldn't help but wince when Tsukishima stopped a nasty looking one. Bokuto sulked and made some dramatic remark about how he would never hit another ball again, but you were more concerned with the quiet middle blocker, staring at his right hand.

When it came time to switch sides, you picked up a carrier of water bottles along with the first aid bag. Kiyoko had always been the one in charge of the first aid kit, though recently Yachi had been carrying it to learn and practice with. She offered it up to you for this match in exchange for the job of handing out water to all of the guys. Once at the other bench, you set down the carrier to see whose bottles you had picked up. You felt a tap on your shoulder and looked to see that it was Tsukishima who wanted your attention.

"Can you wrap my hand?" He was holding it out to you, and up close you could see how red it was.

"It's my job" you joked, but examined his fingers to decide what the best course of action would be. You took the roll of bandages out of the kit and began to wrap his pointer and middle finger together. He watched you intently as you moved on to quickly fix up his pinky. You took a leap and placed a kiss on it when you were done, turning away before you could see his reaction.

Hinata caught sight of the two of you and bounced over to ask you to wrap his fingers, too. Tsukishima regained his composure and rolled his eyes before thanking you and stepping away. You were sure your heart was going a million miles a second.

With all of the guys back on the court, you were surprised to see the coaching staff and fellow managers staring at you.

"What?" you looked behind you, half expecting Coach Ukai's grandfather to be standing there the way they were looking in your direction.

"You should know, (L/n). He never asks to have his fingers wrapped." Kiyoko smiled.

"It's usually pulling teeth to get him to let anyone wrap them" Coach Ukai added. He only laughed and shook his head before turning his attention out onto the court and immediately getting into game mode.

Is that true?

-----

The guys lost to Fukurodani, but they had gotten the opportunity to try out several different lineups so none of you were too upset. After three more matches, Karasuno had unfortunately come third place in the bracket. As such, the team wouldn't be playing anymore that day, though they still wanted to stay to see what team would come out on top. The snack bar seemed to be calling your name. You were starting to get dizzy from how hungry you were, so you took some of your money with you and looked up at the prices. You decided on meat buns and only waited a little before the man behind the counter handed them to you.

You were in the middle of effectively stuffing your face when you felt a tap on your shoulder. With full cheeks you turned and were faced with Tsukishima, leaving you thoroughly embarrassed. He laughed a little at your ridiculous expression (he was still a rude teenage boy after all), though it didn't seem truly sinister when aimed at you. You swallowed as quickly as you could without choking on the bun and looked up at him expectantly. "Can I talk to you?" he questioned. His voice was low, and he was looking directly into your eyes. It was slightly unnerving.

You opted to nod, not fully trusting your words to come out. You thought it a little strange that he asked to talk and didn't just open a conversation with you like he normally did, but you waited for him to continue. A confused look made its' way to your face when he didn't show any sign of saying anything.

"I was hoping we could go somewhere that's quieter than this" he deadpanned, glaring at some poor preteen-aged kid who walked a little too close to him, loudly blabbing away about Nekoma. You quietly giggled at the look on his face and couldn't help but notice the imprint around his eyes from his goggles. It was cute, if not a little funny.

"After you" you bowed at him and followed him away from the snack bar and through the halls. On an entirely different note, this school made Karasuno seem tiny. It felt like forever before he finally stopped.

You looked up at him, trying to calm your heart at the realization that you were completely alone with your crush.

"I don't know how to say this without sounding like a loser" he suddenly interrupted. Your face immediately contorted into one of confusion.

"What do you mean?" you encouraged. "I want to be with you" he spoke, softer than before. If you had been drinking water, this would have been one of those moments where you spit it everywhere. No way...

"You know how hard it is for me to talk about how I feel. There's something about you that makes it so easy. And as much as it pisses me off, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you lately, (Y/n)" he went on. Was this a dream? Or were you dead? Maybe you were just delusional, that had to be it.

"I needed to just get this off my chest because I think I'll go crazy if I spend another day not telling you." You could've passed out, right there, right now.

Instead of coming up with a response to any of what he just said, you stood there like an idiot with your mouth open in shock. Because really, what can you say? 'Oh yeah that's great to hear. Not like I've been totally obsessed with you for a few weeks and thinking about you nonstop in a not-just-friends kind of way. And the other managers definitely didn't listen to me ramble on about you for twenty minutes uninterrupted. So yeah no that's awesome!'. You would totally scare him off!

"Are you just gonna stand there and make me feel like a dumbass or are you gonna say something back?" he sounded slightly annoyed. Your face fell at this, which he must've noticed because you heard him mumble a 'sorry'.

"You aren't a dumbass, Kei. I'm just surprised you feel the same way" you smiled. He covered his mouth, probably hiding his own. "I'll be with you" you finally answered definitively. You brightly smiled, and watched as he removed his hand from his mouth.

"Don't let it go to your head or anything" he feigned apathy. You playfully shoved him and then wrapped your arms around his torso in a tight hug. You felt his arms wrap around you and your heart fluttered.

You were overjoyed walking back towards your team's area in the bleachers, because now Tsukishima was by your side. Now that they were done playing, the majority were napping (save for Hinata, who was chowing down). The two of you sat back down in your seats, though now you sat closer to his. Your heart was still beating a mile a minute, so you settled for less physical contact and laid your arm on top of his that had already been on the armrest. You looked over at him, barely able to contain your smile. You saw the faint trace of a smile on his face. You let your head fall onto his shoulder, shutting your eyes in bliss.

The finals would see Fukurodani going up against a team you had heard some of the players talking about, 'Shiratorizawa'. Their reputation wasn't understated, they were amazing. Not like that was even close to the front of your mind at that point.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #karasuno #fukurodani #hq yachi #kiyoko shimizu #hinata #bokuto

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beetboxx · 2 years

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black amethyst - eddie munson x reader

2.6k words i had a pretty hard night so :} i wrote this lil thing

warnings; none?

crystal mommy spiritual hippie reader and eddie dance in his room to fleetwood mac and enjoy life because it needs to slow down a bit sometimes.

“why are we listening to this again?” eddie complained. he was lounged on his bed, propped up by an excessive amount of pillows he stole from the couch in his living room, head facing the ceiling with his thumb and pointer finger pinching the bridge of his nose. he wore a thin gray tank top, the kind where the front swooped in a u-shape down onto his chest. there were cracked yellow letters on top of a red circle with a freaky looking thing on it- the judas priest logo from ‘82 screaming for vengeance. the age on the shirt shown, cracked and faded and the j on judas barely readable. he was just in his boxers, checkered black and white and very comfy looking.

his room was all shaded orange, the indiana sunset painting the room with a call for nocturnals to come out and play. his room, even with the golden orange infiltrating, was so dark. grungy. eddie had a habit of just leaving things places and not ever picking them up. you had once tried to help him clean up, but quickly got bored and just sat on his lap while he showed you his new def leppard tape; the band with 9 arms, a fact that you both thought was super metal. posters of heavy metal bands, the random comic book erotica, his prized guitar, colors of black and red and enough frightening imagery to make any child below the age of five to bawl and run to their parents.

but you were such a contrast in his room. smiling happily, bright crystals wrapped in wire adorning your fingers, another quartz dangling from your neck. you came to his house wearing a float top that tied at the front and a long patterned green skirt, but the top soon got ditched once you realized how fucking hot his house was. so now you were in the flowy skirt and your bra. it was comfortable. exposed skin didn’t have to be sexual to you and eddie. it often was, but that evening was just comfort.

you were dancing in the middle of his room, stevie nicks singing away on the tape you smuggled in his home and shoved in the player before he realized it.

“come on, babe,” you giggled. “stevie nicks is so rad! i would even say she’s metal.”

“don’t you ever say that again.”

you sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes for effect. you threw a knee up on his bed to sit yourself down on it, right next to his foot, the other tucked in his leg so his knee was up.

“edddiee,” you whined, poking his foot to get his attention as you shifted up the bed to plant yourself next to him on your side. your hand propped your head up, tricep laying across his scratchy sheets and brushing against his shoulder. “just give her a shot!”

“it’s so.. soft.”

“yeah, babe. that’s kind of the point.”

“but-“

you shushed him, lightly smacking his chest with your fingertips.

eddie huffed. he was pouting. his cheek fell to the mattress in your direction, his pretty face drenched in gold. he had his crazy hair pulled back in a lazy ponytail with one of your scrunchies you had left at his place, which he immediately stole.

“i just don’t get why you like this stuff!” eddie exclaimed, his fingers catching hold of the fabric of your skirt at his hip.

“it’s pretty!” you argued. “it feels like.. sticking your head out on a drive and feeling all the wind. or.. how an amethyst looks- speaking of which, you should really put some of that in here, it’s ge-“

eddie quickly finished your sentence, “really dark and scary, i know sweetheart.” he flipped over to his side, rolling closer to you.

“maybe it wouldn’t be so scary if you,” eddie emphasized by pouncing on your waist with a playful roughness, fingers tickling your sides, “weren’t in here, little demon!”

you squealed, knees flying up to your stomach as you giggled and tried to rip away his hands. his cold rings pressed into your skin gently and his dull nails grazed against you as he tickled you, loud snicker trickling into your ears.

“eddie! eddie, okay, okay!” you exasperated through laughs, feeling his hands go limp so you could pull them away.

he had a wicked smile on his face, long dimples in his cheeks waving hello as his eyes squinted a tad.

“ah, you surrender! i’ve captured the princess!” he exclaimed with a dramatized fairytale accent as he planted his hands on either side of your face, carefully lowering himself onto his forearms. he had a tendency to fall into dnd mode, but you didn’t mind. it was fun. he was fun.

“no! i never said i surrender! it’s a truce, eddie. and i’m not a princess, you should know that!” you joked, reaching up to bop him on the nose. he scrunched his face up, shaking his head off like a dog after a bath. he looked so adorable, with the little glint in his eyes and mischief written over his cheeks.

“ohh, right. totally forgot. more of a witch-fairy-gnome thing.”

you scoffed playfully and punched his chest with a featherlight touch.

“sure. witch-fairy-gnome thing,” you agreed, reluctantly of course, rolling your eyes with a grin. “so what does that make you?”

he widened his eyes theatrically, dropping his jaw to gasp. “oh, little old me!” eddie croaked with an ostentatious quirk in his voice, where it got all high pitched and medieval. “i am just the gracious peasant whom saved the beauty from the horrors of pop music!”

you giggled through open teeth, wrapping your arms around his neck loosely, eddie leaning down to place a kiss on your cheek.

“stevie is not pop music!” you argued optimistically. he swung his leg to the other side of you so he was fully hovering on top of your figure, legs tangling with each other. “listen, ‘takes to the sky like a bird in flight, and who will be her lover?’ you think cyndi lauper wrote that?”

he must’ve got bored, or his arms got tired in that position, so he fell to your side on his back. you took the perfect opportunity to hoist yourself up on his stomach, perched up there and slouching down until your chest hit his.

“sure, baby. whatever you say,” he sighed, acting the role of some some tired old retiree. he grabbed the end of his thin comforter, pulling it up to rest over your hips. you snuggled into the crook of his neck, placing a palm on his chest, humming.

“just listen to it, eds. hush.”

he wrapped his arms around your waist, barring you into the warmth of his body. his thumbs rubbed small circles into your spine. he fell into silence, and you two just laid there on his bed. stevie nicks and lindsey buckingham took turns singing into the room, the sounds of acoustic guitar and banjo vibrating into both of your blood. it pumped into his heart at a steady pace, matching to the tempo of the music. you listened to it, cherished it, let your eyes close and left the strands of curly hair itching the back of your neck. after a while, you felt one of his thumbs tap steadily against your skin, intently following the drums in the song playing. it forced a smile from you.

eddie took one of his hands from your waist, gently picking up your palm to kiss the amethyst ring on your middle finger tenderly. he pressed another kiss to your palm before splaying it over his collarbone.

“s’ a full moon tonight, eddie.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you said.

“what’s that mean?”

you reached up, left a lazy kiss to his jaw. “the moons in aquarius, so.. it’s full of life. gratitude. trusting the universe to bring you good.”

“hm,” he hummed, running his fingertips over the line of your bicep.

you could always tell when eddie enjoyed a song. his head bobbed, eyebrows twitched to the guitar like it was singing through him, his toes would tap. you found that he particularly reacted positively to rhiannon, a song about a free, careless woman who flew into the sweet night and the potential love she offered. it reminded him of someone.

someone who loved him, who let her hair blow in the wind and bugs to crawl over her legs when they got curious. who had a smile that could get her her own sitcom, but she wouldn’t take it because it would lock her down too much. prevent her from dancing in the flowers and hold crystals to her chest nightly. the woman who took his hand and pulled the both of them into lover’s lake on a cold night, laughing and pushing her hair back. the woman who kissed his cheek and clapped giddily when eddie finished his new campaign pitch to her.

he replayed the song once it skipped to the next, insisting that, “no, it just.. last play was weird, i wanna try it again.”

you grinned. by the second chorus, your legs were getting too antsy. they were too still, too dormant. you had too much buzz in you. so you jumped up onto your knees suddenly, clumsily leaning over eddie below you. he raised an eyebrow slightly, hands falling from your waist from the new increase in distance. you chewed your bottom lip, the corners of your lips twitching upwards. you suddenly scrambled off of his bed, leaving eddie to slowly sit up, very confused.

“dance with me.”

“what?”

you sighed, reaching down to his bed to grab his forearms and forcefully pull him up to his feet with a goofy, wide smile.

“(y/n)-“

“come onn,” you whined as he struggled to balance onto his feet. you helped him by placing his hands on your sides, which betrayed you in the end when he pulled your balance away from you so he could find his.

you eventually found your footing, standing chest to chest on the raggedy carpet. he shot you a very unimpressed, grumpy look with his lips pursed but slightly parted in the middle, big brown eyes narrowed at you.

"i don't dance! i'm like.. a dry noodle or somethin'.." eddie argued, pushing your wrists away from him with faux resentment.

"ohh, you liar!" you exclaimed, your grin growing across your face. it made him smile.

"i'm not lying!"

"you are totally lying. what about slayer, huh?" you giggled.

eddie let out a loud gasp, faking offense with his palm thrown across his heart, twisting his body away from you slightly. "that is not even comparable, you witch!"

"that's what the song's about. just hush and dance with me?" you pleaded, giving him the biggest doe eyes you could, puffing your bottom lip out far more than necessary and fluttering your eyelashes. he couldn't say no.

eddie rolled his eyes around, circling his head for effect. his hand fell to his side for you to gently grab, smiling victoriously. you lifted them both up, hoisting his arms over to drape over your shoulders. you shuffled closer to him, to where his forearms hung over you, hands falling limp at the end of his long arms. you hooked your arms around his waist, pulling him flush against you and locking your hands together at his back.

"you're leading this very romantic and put-together dance?" eddie interrogated, admitting defeat by letting you pull and position him in whatever way you wanted.

you mumbled a 'yup!' and pecked his lips. the mumble quickly turned into humming to rhiannon, matching stevie nick's tune as your thumbs matched the beat against eddie's back. you swayed yourself back and forth, by extension, eddie was unwillingly rocking with you.

and then eddie smiled. he watched you intently, lips curling into a closed grin. all he could feel was love and adoration. you looked like a fucking forest fairy goddess, singing in your bra and a long patterned skirt you probably got from a thrift store. he could feel your crystal rings pressing into his shirt, and it was a feeling he could keep forever. that crystal hung around your neck must have been doing something, because you had him under some sort of spell. and when you glanced into his eyes, every single time, there was just one word flashing over and over again in them.

he took a deep inhale, letting it escape slowly and loudly. and in that, he let all of his anxieties escape him. there was no elvish language he had to draft, no basketball player to worry about randomly beating him to a pulp. he could just be for a minute or two. be free like you, bathing in the soft glow of the sunset and the aura of crystals and the scent of burnt incense. it was just.. relief. relief that he could find someone that was immune to the horrors of the world, that stayed.. well, you. he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, pressing his palm against your scalp to press your cheek into his chest.

the song described you beautifully, in words that james hetfield could never find. taken by the sky, but dark and mysterious. but he knew, deep in his totally dark and metal heart, he had won. you promised him heaven and completely delivered it.

and so you stood there, swaying back and forth in the same spot for the rest of rhiannon. you heard him beginning to hum to the bridge, and he felt your teeth exposing themselves in a grin buried in his shirt. he stroked the back of your hair with the slow tempo of the song, sometimes scratching your neck. in return, you scratched up and down his back, slow and gentle and in no hurry. you both stayed that way for never going back again, and then gold dust woman, and then world turning. all of it.

"what crystal is that, baby?" eddie suddenly asked in the middle of the last song, moving his hand to gently grasp at the little stone hung around your neck with wire and a black cord.

you hummed. "black amethyst."

"..woah."

he lifted it up from your chest, examining it closely, even subtly moving you into the light to look at it.

"harmony, clears negativity.. balance," you lazily explained, closing your eyes lightly as he looked at it.

"it's cool. really cool."

you lifted up from his chest. "you want it?"

eddie took a second, pondering, making sure you weren't joking. and then he nodded rapidly, very urgently. you gave him the biggest smile and his heart warmed, flew to the sky a little bit.

you released him from your hold, just to reach up and unclasp your necklace at the back. you held it in front of him, and it was like you were hypnotizing him. he stared at the little black-purple rock, illuminated by the dim lights of his room and the leaving sunlight from outside. it sparkled slightly when he looked at it, and you sparkled when he looked at you. you reached around his neck with either side of the cord necklace and clasped it on the closest one you could find.

"dude.." eddie said, nodding and lifting up the crystal from his own chest to look at it. "metal."

you giggled, leaning in to press a big kiss against his cheek, holding his face in your other palm to press him to your lips further.

"soo... stevie nicks?" you asked, expecting your confirmation win in determining that fleetwood mac was good. great, even. and with you listening to it, in his arms, humming and singing and talking about whatever you wanted, fleetwood mac was way more than great. he decided he would probably end up falling asleep to it every night.

eddie laughed, returned to his position hugging you around your neck, kissing your lips just to be sure.

"stevie nicks is metal."

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talonabraxas · 1 year

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HIDDEN BY A DISK OF GOLDEN LIGHT "The material visible sun is a reflector rather than a source of power. The visible sun reflects the light of the invisible spiritual sun, which is the true source of life, light and truth. The physical nature of the universe is receptive; it is a realm of effects. The invisible causes of these effects belong to the spiritual world. Hence, the spiritual world is the sphere of causation; the material world is the sphere of effects; while the intellectual--or soul--world is the sphere of mediation (between the two). Thus Christ, the personified higher intellect and soul nature, is called 'The Mediator' who, by virtue of His position and power, says: 'No man cometh to the Father, but by me'." -- Manly P. Hall, The Secret Teachings of All Ages "O Thou Who givest sustenance to the Universe, from Whom all things proceed, to Whom all things return; unveil to us the face of the true spiritual Sun, hidden by a disc of golden light, that we may know the truth and do our whole duty, as we journey to Thy sacred feet." -- The Gayatri"Certain Rosicrucian scholars have given special appellations to the three phases of the Sun: the spiritual sun they called Vulcan; the Souler and Intellectual Sun they called Christ and Lucifer respectively; and the material Sun they called Jehovah. Lucifer here represents the intellectual mind without the illumination of the spiritual mind; therefore it is 'the false light'. The false light is finally overcome and redeemed by the true light of the Soul, called the Second Logos or Christ. The secret processes by which the Luciferian intellect is transmuted into the Christly intellect constitute one of the great secrets of Alchemy, and are symbolized by the process of transmuting base metals into gold." -- Manly P. Hall, The Secret Teachings of All Ages "In this connection our solar system is septenary, that it is composed of seven planes, or worlds, and hence that there are seven suns in it, of which we see but one sun, the lowest in degree." -- G. de Purucker, Fundamentals of the Esoteric Philosophy"From this viewpoint the source of material organization, intra-cellular coherency and even consciousness, lies not within physical processes of the body, but are rather causal phenomena issuing forth from fundamental qualities of space-time itself, from the very field of energy sustaining the universe. Yet as this field is nothing but a pure potential, being non-dimensional and infinite in nature, it is also by definition the pinnacle of order and organization – all points unified. Thus the entropic, randomized universe meets its counterbalance in the negentropic, coherent vacuum of space." https://shiftfrequency.com/human-body-universe/?fbclid=IwAR25Z_fQgdt6aqEIMy_NHhluPFytX3mSXnfDt1dV5A0zriYC4QgKCwbHM3U

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meggannn · 6 months

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mass effect x imperial radch fic

happy N7 day! there's still an hour left so I am NOT LATE.

I wanted to write more of this in time for today but got distracted, so have... all of what I managed to write of this fusion fic a month ago.

Summary: When Shepard fishes a half-dead turian out of Omega’s slums, she doesn’t expect to recognize him; doesn’t expect his help in her quest for answers and revenge; and certainly doesn’t imagine the galactic upheaval that will follow. Rating: T

—

Bodies are everywhere on Omega, but this one catches EDI’s attention, even with the face caved in and the markings scraped off.

Shepard, the cool voice says in her ear, this is a former servicemate.

Sometimes it tests her last nerve. EDI is technically correct, but referring to any of the Hierarchy citizens as mates—as if her tenure had been voluntary, as if they had been equals—she finds offensive in the highest degree, and EDI should have picked up on that by now. Shepard resists the urge to curl her lip as she passes by the dumpster. She is too busy mentally reviewing her notes for her upcoming meeting with Aria to also rifle through their shared memories for a turian she has happened to cross paths with again.

A member of the Eye, EDI clarifies, and Shepard pauses.

What do you mean?

EDI doesn’t reply. It’s lately been exploring relaying information through silences, whenever it’s feeling judgmental or Shepard is being particularly dense.

Every crewmember from the Eye of Menae is dead, of course. Except her and her passenger. This one shouldn’t exist. She wonders, not for the first time, if EDI is malfunctioning, and then, not for the first time, dismisses the thought because nobody could fix it if it was, anyway.

Shepard turns around and eyes the body again.

A limp, possibly broken arm is hanging out of the skip. The helmeted head is half-crushed, revealing a pulpy mass of blue blood and a cracked, dangling mandible. The markings had been notably scraped off, crudely, likely postmortem. She thinks, based on the fringe, that it might be male. Whoever left this turian in this state did not want him recognized; Omega had already declared him forgotten. Nonconsensual Scraping was a crime in the Hierarchy punishable by jail time and/or Reeducation. It was a wonder they hadn’t dumped him in the incinerator, but perhaps there was a message in that. He wasn’t even worth the trouble to bring him down to the chutes.

She can’t identify turians without their markings, of course; even with them, it’s a challenge. But EDI can. And yet EDI is keeping quiet.

A golden symbol on the bicep catches her eye, and her stomach does sink at that recognition, because she has seen it before. On the Eye of Menae; not on any official signage, but doodled on the back of datapads, scratched into terminal corners, which she had scrubbed weekly, and could have informed a superior about, but didn’t.

She’d assumed it was some turian colony symbol, or sports team logo, or perhaps even a gang symbol. She doesn’t remember the lieutenant’s name. He had been young when he served on the Eye, newly appointed in the wake of the First Contact War due to some personal connection with the Palavenian Primarch, and everyone had known it. He had been resentful of that judgment and barely interacted with any of the ancillaries—any of the humans—which had been fine with her.

“He’s dead,” Shepard says. “And it’s not as if I can give him a funeral.” Or as if she’d want to.

He is not dead, EDI says, throwing her for a loop twice in as many minutes. He has suffered multiple contusions, fractures, and what appears to be explosion trauma to the face and neck, not to mention the Scraping. But he is alive.

His name finally comes to her. She doesn’t have any particularly strong memories of the skinny lieutenant who had served with her on Engineering Deck; outside of his graffiti habits, he had been neither remarkable nor noteworthy. Most turian lieutenants hadn’t wanted to talk to their new client race anyway: Humans creeped them out, with their ugly skin and weird, confusing fringe that “leaks” everywhere.

“After Aria,” she says.

He needs medical attention if he is to survive the night.

She nearly swears at it. All her usual rejections in response to EDI drawing her attention to satisfy some curiosity about organics—We’re busy, I can’t afford it—dry up here, because they aren’t, and she can. “Fine,” she says, aware that she sounds petulant. “I’m paying for a doctor and that’s all.”

As she drags the body out of the skip, she hopes no one would ever ask her why she saved Garrus Vakarian’s life. She couldn’t rightfully say, Because the ancillary program installed in my head told me to—nobody could know about EDI, and she’s fully capable of resisting its influence now anyway, even as persistent as it could be. She hopes no one would ever ask because even as she sets his arm and lumbers off to find a doctor with his limp body hoisted onto her back, she still does not know why herself.

–

Three hours later, she has dragged Vakarian to two clinics that refused to take him for reasons they will not explain, his face slowly soaking blood on her shoulder, and she is reconsidering every decision she’s made this afternoon.

We do not have enough information, EDI replies after Shepard has called her out for their situation. I cannot determine a cause for their disinclination without more knowledge of local politics.

They have more than enough information, Shepard wants to snap. She’s been spat on or refused service nearly every hour she’s interacted with someone here. She’s a human, and the galaxy is full of bigots. But EDI is turian-made, programmed to view and treat every Citizen as equal despite racial politics, and sometimes convincing an AI of organic realities is like arguing with a wall.

Even with her implants, lugging around a two-hundred-pound turian for hours is exhausting. She is starting to wonder if he’s actually died by now, but EDI would surely say something if he had, and not achieving her goal after this long is starting to feel like a point of personal pride.

She dumps him outside of a motel for a moment while she walks in and rents a room. The bored batarian behind the counter fortunately doesn’t blink at the blood staining her clothes; it’s nothing remarkable around Omega, but on a human, it could be used as an excuse to deny entry.

Shepard thanks him, then drags the turian inside and over to the creaking elevator. As she passes, the batarian raises his brows in a way that says, If people come after you, I’m ratting you out immediately, which she supposes is fair.

She dumps Garrus Vakarian onto the single bed and observes him, prone and anonymous. Even knowing his name, having seen him daily and stood with him onboard the Eye during routine inspections, she still would not have been able to recognize him out of a lineup now. She should really learn how to tell turians apart; but then again, he wouldn’t be able to recognize her, either.

Most aliens find humans unsettling to look at: their eye contact too alarming, their smiles too rude, their hair too weird, and on and on. Salarians are forever complaining how some humans looked identical, and others too different due to some indecipherable criteria Shepard can’t understand; she supposes whatever their categorizations, they are not unlike human concepts of gender and race, which remain baffling to most aliens fifteen years post-First Contact. Asari are at least polite to one’s face, perhaps because due to the overlap of external body appearances, though Shepard never expected help from them as a Council race who had voted for humanity’s subjugation.

Operating from a weird suspicion, before she leaves the room, she strips the logo from his armor and tucks it into her pocket.

She has done what she can for him without tools or help. She mentally questions how much effort she will put into this; but she is, unfortunately, versed in turian anatomy enough to know his state is critical, and even if she had forgotten, EDI is there to supplement her knowledge with the extranet and her own database on turian biology. So she sets off to a local pharmacy—which contains a bare bones stock of medigel, painkillers, and gauze—then asks the clerk for a local, quiet doctor, and flashes some credits. They give her the address of a fellow around the corner and warn her he might not take humans.

The turian doctor is a retired vet who indeed nearly closes the door on her, claiming he cannot help aliens, before she puts her foot in the gap and explains her turian bodyguard has been attacked and needs immediate care. She blames it on clan discrimination—the Hierarchy would have Citizens believe that is not a thing, but Shepard knows organic behavior too well to believe that’s true—and explains that he has been “Scraped” as proof, something they say only gangs are barbaric enough to perform on another.

Turians can’t pale, but he does grow eerily quiet at that news. “Wait here,” he says, and disappears into his apartment for five minutes before emerging with a medical bag and a new visor, which feeds him data. “Before I go anywhere, I’ll need half up front.”

So she pays him half up front, adding it to the tab that Vakarian will owe her when all of this is done.

In the motel, Doctor Ubex looks at Garrus Vakarian for all of half a second before tsk-hissing—a turian expression of annoyance—and getting to work.

“He’ll survive,” he tells her half an hour later, after he’s stitched Vakarian’s face back together and plastered it with a bandage. “Although in what condition, I can't say. You’ll have to stay awake and apply the disinfectant and medigel to his face every other hour for the first twelve hours, then refresh until it gets bloody. I don’t have the energy to stay up all night, and it would quadruple your bill, anyway.”

Her appointment with Aria was already down the drain today. “How much medigel will that be?”

“More than whatever you have. It’s not just the side, it’s all over his mandibles and nose. Wherever the markings were—the Scraping was unprofessional, it rubbed off a protective layer of chitin. His face will be prone to infection until it grows back, which may take months. Come here.” He motions her over and she reluctantly steps up to his side, looking where he points to a clear-blue ooze coming from the side of Vakarian’s nose. “He’ll need regular medigel applications for the next several days, until the discharge stops.” He taps his visor and more information scrolls through his feed. “The rest of it is just bone-setting. They should be done in the next few days with the splints, but he should move as little as possible and be fed non-chewables until he can use his left side without pain. I managed to save the teeth, but he’s in for a painful recovery even with meds.”

He leaves her with a set of verbal instructions that she doesn’t bother writing down; EDI records everything for her anyway. With a final word of caution to avoid going planetside until the chitin grows back, she pays him his remaining fee, and he pauses in the doorway.

“If you have any more questions, ask me now,” he says. “I won’t answer my door if you come back. I don’t want to get involved in whatever this is.”

Shepard doesn't know enough about turian biology to know what else she should ask; she has already asked EDI’s questions during the initial interrogation. “That’s all. Thank you, Doctor.”

After he leaves, EDI comments, He served him without question, unlike the others.

Shepard strides over to the sagging armchair, watching Vakarian’s chest rise and fall on the bed, his bandaged face unmoving, and doesn’t reply.

I imagine your suspicion was correct. The others recognized the logo, and feared to treat him to anger his enemies. It had nothing to do with your race.

Shepard keeps her sights focused on her inexplicable new charge, and does not say, Shut the fuck up.

#fic snippets #shepard #garrus vakarian #n7 day

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thepariahcontinuum · 1 year

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Worm power where you can temporarily duplicate inanimate objects and have full control over said copies (including telekinesis and a slight Thinker power giving them info on how it works as long as the copy exists)? The duration of the duplicate’s existence would depend on the size, complexity, and the cape’s familiarity with the original object. It’s not an extremely destructive power on its own but there’s lots of creative directions for it, plus the possibility of copying Tinker devices (albeit not for very long)…

Possible applications: copying a telephone box on the street and hurling it at an opponent, copying a rifle and instinctively knowing how to use it even with no prior training, etc. Very large or complex things would last under twenty seconds, but that’s still enough time to cause a bit of chaos or get the cape out of a jam.

Now the "Duplicate small items" part was actually an ability of one of my RWBY OCs, Grapeshot. he just used to turn every shot from his weapon into a full on salvo.

The telekinetic control makes it a lot more interesting however.... Now you said copying things like Tinker-tech but honestly I was thinking in the vein of mixing Shatterbird and Kitchen Sink (Still one of the best Cape names).

This is a Villain, someone of Mid-Tier in one of the major cities where Shakers run the show because the power is effectively a mid/high Blaster rating with Master and Shaker subcategories due to the control and potential scale, as well as a potential Tinker rating.... Although I personally like the idea of them not being able to actually use the Tinker-tech they copy.

Despite the power they're throwing around they still have the overall demeanor and vibe of a lovable rogue or one of the goofy golden age villains. This is a villain that quite a few people consider themselves fans of and has an air of being harmless because they copy things that turn their power into a practical joke.

After all, if you turn the containment foam angle back on the Heroes and PRT by creating literal rivers and tidal waves of lumpy porridge or tapioca pudding to bury them whilst robbing a bank it's funny.....the understanding that you could just have easily have dropped a tusnami of nails and shrapnel on someone and guided it telekinetically through the streets to react that Machine attack from the second Matrix film is just an implied threat.

This is also a villain who's smart enough to use that popularity and parlay into branding and marketing and merch in ways that Uber and Leet need to step up to....a popular trick is to make some genuine t-shirts and hoodies with their logo on and then copy them, throw them into the avalanche of copied stuff and let people grab em. Anyone who still has merch when the copies vanish wins and gets a Twitter shout-out.

Costume wise I'm thinking something in dark grey with bright green and some orange highlights and details.... Something asymmetrical with different textures involved that really shows off the chaotic vibe and is right on the edge of "What you can pull off without looking like a twat"

Cape name: Clutter

#wormblr #worm web serial #Parahumans #wildbow #worm oc #Anon

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felassan · 18 days

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Now in the BioWare Gear Store: Dragon Age Lyrium Idol Record Slip Mat

Item description:

"DO YOU HEAR THAT HAUNTINGLY BEAUTIFUL SOUND? Do you hear that hauntingly beautiful sound? It could be the song of red lyrium rushing through every fiber of your being. Or it might just be your favorite record spinning over the Dragon Age Lyrium Idol Record Slip Mat. This felt mat adds gorgeous artwork to your turntable, improves your listening experience by dampening vibrations, and helps DJs spin records more easily by reducing friction. Featuring the lyrium idol as seen in Dragon Age: Dreadwolf promo artwork."

[source]

((Looks like the background map that they chose for the item shots is the Thedas map that came with Tevinter Nights. I’m also 👁️ at the golden-leaved foliage and the cracks shown in this image with the idol. those trees have been showing up now and again in DA:D promo art & concept art - associated with stuff/places like Arlathan Forest, the Veil Jumpers, yknow, like that Fade-y/magic-y locale with floating rocks etc [examples], and in the Golden/Black City and the big dragon’s wings on the vinyl album cover art. the cracks remind me of stuff like this and the crumbling effect in the new DA:D logo.))

---

You can get 20% off in the BioWare Gear Store until April 12th using my latest discount code BWAPRILFOOL. After that date check back here for a new code. alternatively, you can use my tracking link.

✧d(•̀ v•̀ )~~♪

#dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #dragon age: the missing #dragon age: the missing spoilers #👁️ i am LOOKING #do you hear that hauntingly beautiful sound.. the veil is thin here.. can you feel it on your skin? tingling?

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grizzlyofthesea · 6 months

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My FNAF Movie Experience

I was so excited to see the FNAF movie on opening night. I had my mom with me, we had our snacks, and of course, my costume:

I'd been waiting for this for over 8 years. The hype was real--and not just for me. I only saw one other person in full costume (dressed as Afton), but plenty of others brought their plushies and wore their best merch.

Did the movie live up to this massive anticipation?

For me, yes. It has flaws, but as a tribute to the FNAF fanbase, I adore it.

LOTS OF SPOILERS BELOW. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.

There were so many nods to the fandom. Here are the ones I can remember off the top of my head:

Dream Theory appearing as a book Mike reads

Chica's Magic Rainbow being the mascot/logo of an ice cream place at the mall

The Balloon Boy jumpscares. Annoying (but surprisingly effective) every time, just like the real BB.

Afton (as Steve) over the phone telling Mike, "See you on the flipside," referencing the "Phone Guy is Purple Guy" theory

Sparky/Fetch appearing as a spare suit

CoryxKenshin making a cameo as the taxi driver (My theater FREAKED OUT at this.)

Matpat making a cameo as the waiter at the diner, even saying his famous line, "But hey, that's just a theory." (Again, the audience was very pleased.)

The aforementioned diner being called Sparky's

TLT's FNAF song playing during the end credits

The animatronics were, of course, stunning. I mean, it's the Jim Henson company. Of course they were going to be awesome. (Oh, and Bonnie gets a plaid tie instead of just plain red. Adorable.) The actors inside the costumes did really well, too, mimicking their slow, deliberate, robotic movements. Except Foxy. He wasn't played by a suit actor at all, probably because of his skinny legs. So for that, massive props to the puppeteers. Oh, and his little "dum diddly dum" song? Kellen Goff sings it here. Amazing work from Mr. Goff as always.

I know some people were disappointed by the lack of on-screen gore, but honestly, I like how the violence was handled. FNAF has always been relatively blood-free, so it's only fitting. And honestly? That silhouette of Freddy biting Max in half was chilling, and I think it wouldn't have been nearly as good if we had seen it in full.

The horror as a whole was on the tame side, but it was still enough to spook my mom. Take that for what you will.

The Balloon Boy jumpscares were hilarious. So was Mr. Cupcake. The fact that Mr. Cupcake was the biggest threat out of the main animatronics was kind of awesome. Goofy? Heck yeah. But it's so silly that, at least for me, it loops back to being awesome.

Mike and Abby had an adorable sibling dynamic, and I am SO GLAD that Vanessa didn't end up as a love interest for Mike. Mike communicating with the children's spirits and taking damage from them through his dreams isn't something I expected, but I found it interesting. The Golden Freddy kid being the de facto leader of the missing children (and a manipulative little troll) was very fitting, too.

Art, specifically children's drawings, was a notable focus of the movie; the drawings seemed to symbolize communication, imagination, and escapism. I thought this was a creative way to incorporate the children's drawings that we've seen in the background since the first FNAF game.

Matthew Lillard as William Afton/Spring Bonnie/Springtrap doesn't get enough screentime, but he absolutely kills it when he's in the spotlight. I just wish there was more of him. Same goes for the animatronics.

Overall, while this isn't a perfect film, I love it so, so much. I can't wait to see what the future holds in terms of sequels, too; at the very end of the credits, "My Grandfather's Clock" plays, and a Speak 'n' Spell spells out "C O M E F I N D M E." FNAF 2 and the Puppet are at the very least being teased!

#fnaf #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's movie #halloween costumes #cosplay #freddy fazbear #fnaf pole bear freddy #fnaf pole bear

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