#beeper speaks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grlpartdoll · 1 month

Text

Ok so the first post I made about famous!reader and bodyguard!Simon made me think about something interesting. How would Simon react to his lamb actually getting sick or being in a bad place? I am sick, so this is incredibly self indulgent, lol.

afab!reader, mdni with any of my work pls.

You sip quietly, watching through your lashes as Simon types something on his phone. It's late at night — one am. Way past the bedtime established by the man himself.

There's only one light on, and it's the one in the hallway. It illuminates only half of his face, highlighting a sharp jaw, a scarred brow and lip, a once (or twice) broken nose.

When you shift uncomfortably, he peers down at you again, his eyes immediately brought to you when you sputter a little, water refusing to go down.

"Doc's beeper is off." He announces, turning off his phone and bending his knees a little to lower himself to your height. As you slowly move your cup of warm water down on-top of your thighs, you cup your throat, a desolate frown on your face.

He motions for you to open your mouth, raising a hand to pinch your chin gently between his fingers. He looks at the state of your throat, at the cough drop you're using sitting idly behind your teeth.

He shakes his head. "Still inflamed."

You pout. Quietly, you try to speak, but he shoots you a look you know too well.

"Y'know the procedure, Bambi."

You give a glance at the camera crew stuck at the door. The rule that Simon had firmly introduced and stuck to ever since the documentary had begun filming between the walls of your home — no cameras in your room, and none at the door if it was closed. The only reason its open now is because your manager had scolded him about the documentary not containing enough raw footage of what it was like to live in your skin. All of its current footage was made up of carefully nitpicked moments Simon allowed people to witness and nothing else.

Even this, you know, is eating away at him.

And at you, too.

It's shameful, to pull out your rusty signing skills when there are cameras there. When it's just you and Simon, it's.. different. You know he doesn't judge.

His hand tightens around your jaw a little. Nothing painful. But it jostles you back to reality, bringing your gaze back to him.

"Focus o'me. Just you and me." He whispers. You hope the cameras don't pick it up. Maybe, if you're lucky, they won't have. Afterall, you don't have mics strapped on — the whole crew had been sitting in your kitchen eating when Simon called your name, noticing (or hearing?) you tiptoeing to the bathroom for a drink, and none of them had had time to get mics on anyone because of how quickly it had all happened. Or, well, it could also be because he slammed the bathroom door closed and then proceeded to corner you in the bathroom until you admitted you couldn't sleep because your throat was hurting. He only let the cameras film you after you'd confirmed ten times over that you were okay with them filming you.

You start to go through the words in your head, translating them into jerky movements of your hands. He nods as you sign "it doesn't hurt anymore"

"That's the cough drops," he whispers, and his voice sounds so intimate that you want to melt into it. He tucks your blankets around you, and takes the hot pack from your bedside table, silently applying it to your throat.

With your performance just tomorrow where you're supposed to sing live, this is really not something you want. You get the flu too easily, you have a shit immune system, had always been like that since you were a kid, but today, it feels even more disappointing because it's ruining something important you'd been practicing for a very, very long time.

You hum. It feels tight in your throat, and you cough again, trying to alleviate the pressure.

"Alright, alright, get it out," he moves the two of you around until you're on your side, and he's sitting right beside you. You're curled around him, and he's patting your back, rubbing it soothingly. The flue meds would kick in soon enough — knock you out. But for now, you worry, and you're angry.

You stick your hands up at him. You sign too quickly — clumsily ; "told you we shouldn't have went to the award show. Someone there was sick as hell and we all know it was—."

As he glares at the cameras trying to catch what you're signing, he also expertly catches your hands and lowers them to his lap before you can do or say something stupid, warming them in his impossibly warm ones.

"Stop fussing," he grumbles quietly, probably meaning for it to sound reprimanding, but it comes out more like a plea. "Go to sleep. We'll deal with this in the morning."

You sigh, burrying your face in your blankets. He keeps rubbing your back.

You eventually dig yourself out of the blankets, fever making your body run hotter. He helps you move on top of them until you're laying on your back, your upper body raised by a shit ton of pillows. He sits next to you like you're on your death bed. Something about the situation makes you want to laugh, even though you're a bit upset.

He still holds your hands.

When his hold on them finally loosens, though, when he probably thinks you're finally succumbing to the medication, you move your hands up again and sign, calmly this time ; "sorry for waking you up."

He fixes some strands of hair that fall in your face, sticking to the beading sweat on your temples. He shakes his head, his face severe and strangely.. comforting. Every harsh slope, every cruel swipe of scars, every movement. It all feels like home to you. His hand lingers on your temple. Calloused and scarred too, but he touches you with so much gentleness you only feel the soft edges of his fingers.

"Sleep, kid." He finally murmurs. You know the cameras and the crew don't catch that. "Please. You'll feel better in the morning."

You doubt it, but you close your eyes, and let his presence sway you into sleep anyway.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x afab!reader #ghost x reader #ghost #ghost cod #bodyguard!simon #bodyguard!ghost #famous!reader

189 notes · View notes

deadmomjokes · 7 months

Note

as a teacher, hearing about the way you communicate so clearly and thoroughly with your child is so inspiring. I wish more people had resources on how to communicate with kids like you do.

I'm very bad at taking compliments, so I'll just say "Thank you" and also qualify that she makes it pretty easy. She's very smart and has always, from day one basically, needed to know the reasons behind everything. In other circumstances, she would probably be called "stubborn" or "defiant." But the thing is, I remember my own "stubbornness" growing up, and it was almost always the result of me not understanding why things were the way they were. From a young age, I hated with a burning passion the "Because I said so" thing. So I determined that I didn't want to do that when/if I had kids of my own.

My daughter is very bright and curious and makes that easy for me. Her "why" phase was/is pretty specific, which is helpful in keeping ahead of the frustration-induced rage-meltdowns. (Not all of them, of course, because some concepts are really hard to grasp even as an adult, let alone when you're 4 years old and everything Feels Too Big.)

But I also made a conscious effort to start practicing early, before she could talk or push back on a lot of stuff. It felt so weird and silly at first, but I basically narrated everything I did with/around her, and put a reason for it. So a trip to the store sounded like this:

"We made it to the store to get our groceries, so we have yummy food to eat. Let's go inside and get a buggy--that's where we'll put all the things we get, because we can't carry them all in just our hands. I'm going to put you in the buggy, too, right here in this seat, that way you can see what's going on but I have both my hands to push the buggy and grab the things we need. Here, look, some bananas! Let's get some of those because you love to eat them. Oh, no, sorry baby, we can't eat them right now. This stuff isn't ours until we pay for it at the very end-- that's the part with the beep-beeper and the bags. When we get home we can have some of the bananas, because then they are our bananas." Etc, etc, on and on.

People looked at me like I was nuts. It felt a little nuts at times, especially before she could respond verbally. But it worked. It built a habit for me to give a reason for why I'm doing things, or making her do things. More importantly, I feel like, it made me stop and question when I didn't have a good reason for my answers or behaviors. Like if she comes up and asks to blow bubbles outside, and I go, "No baby, not right now," she can be like "why not?" And I have to look at myself and my reasoning. Is it because I'm actually busy or we're genuinely about to do something else that precludes the 5 minutes it'd take to do bubbles? Or is it because I just don't feel like it? It's not fair for "I don't feel like it" to supersede her desires for connection and entertainment all the time. (Sometimes you're just worn out and don't have the bandwidth for it, and that's valid. Parents are people too! But it can't be all the time, yk?) So if I don't have a good reason why not, I let her know that I thought about it more and changed my mind, and off we go to blow bubbles.

I also heard the advice, idk where or when, that you need to practice on your children what you want from them. So if I want my child to be kind, I have to be kind to her, in ways that she can see and appreciate. If I want her to know it's okay to change your mind, I have to point out when that happens for me, like in the above bubbles example. If I want her to be a decent human being who respects others, is empathetic, appreciates the efforts of others, speaks kindly, thinks about how her actions impact those around her, etc... You get the idea. It starts with me. And I try to consciously remind myself of that fact.

It's not always easy, because kids aren't always rational (but to be fair, neither are adults lol). And what is rational to a 4 year old is not always the same as what is rational to me, the adult with almost 3 decades of experience more than her. So sometimes it's like explaining to the wind why it ought to blow in a different direction. But the longer I get to know her, the more I'm able to pick up on the way she sees things, her personal defaults, the way she talks around concepts she's not sure about, etc. It's part of what's cool about getting to be her parent. I get such a close-up view of this little person becoming a little person, and it makes me stop and think about things I have taken for granted for a long time.

I'm rambling again, but I have developed a lot of Strong Feelings about the way kids are treated and looked at in general, and a lot of determination to do better for the kids I get the privilege of loving.

#parenting #kids #adventures of bean #asks

69 notes · View notes

theangrycomet-art · 8 months

Text

Tech's Parents

I stand by my statement that we should have gotten to see all of the Loonatics' parents but since that isn't going to happen anytime soon-

Presenting Miles D Coyote and Dr. Jane Sweetfang! Ft. Nurse Rodger Beeper

COMMISSIONS OPEN

Miles is a coyote of few words, content to let his actions speak for themselves. In charge of their towns mechanic and tools shop with his brother, he serves as a listening ear for the town, helping people work out their issues.

As accident prone as his ancestor, it's rare to see him with out some sort of injury, whether is be a sporting new cast or silver aluminum bandages over a burn. Though no one's really sure how he lost his hand, the running theory is that he crushed it.

He does not let this stop him from making his models tho.

Dr. Sweetfang runs the Cliffside Clinic, a nonprofit clinic that gets far more use then she'd like to see. In her youth, she was a microbiologist on the team that perfected the universal Stem Cell (a type of stem cell that can be safely injected into any species on Earth) as well as the Accelerant Bacteria (a bacteria that encourages said cells to work 4x faster). After passing the FDA aproval, the team sold the patent for $10 in order to get it to hit hospitals globally.

She met Nurse Rodger Beeper when she was training to be an EMT afterwords, and they eventually opened the Cliffside Clinic where she would meet Miles when he was brought in after breaking his tails getting an engine dropped on him.

(Unofficial uncle to the Coyote kids, Rodger was/is in charge of treating any serious injuries Tech, Jax, or eventually Kylee got after she married Miles.)

#Loonatics Unleashed #Tech E Coyote #Miles D Coyote #Dr Sweetfang #Jane Sweetfang-Coyote #Rodger Beeper #Lil Beeper #Calamity Coyote #TheAngryComet ART #OC lore #AU Lore #not gonna lie based these two loosely off my grand parents #Fan Relatives #Loonatics OC

108 notes · View notes

hello-there-cyarika · 9 months

Text

More Hive Troopers <3

More bee troopers! ... Boopers.... BEE-PERS (all of my file names that feature these boys so far have referred the them as "the beepers" lol)

Anyhow, I figured I'd add some more information on how the hive troopers operate below, so keep on reading!

At the start of the war, the venators were outfitted with barracks for the troopers that were fully furnished with bunks and such things

The troopers.... didn't really like the bunks... like at all

The would take the bunks and push them all over to one side, and use the rest of the room as a building space for a huge wall of honeycomb!

Eventually the Jedi caught on, and helped the troopers remove all of the unused bunks

The troopers build huge, ceiling to floor, winding walls of honeycomb to act as the hive's living quarters

The honeycomb compartments come in a variety of sizes!

The biggest compartments are longer than a trooper is tall, and about 2x a trooper's width (wings and secondary abdomen included) in diameter, so these compartments are the ones for sleeping in!

Some are even wider, for those who like to share :)!

The sleeping compartments are filled with comfy pillows and blankets left from the bunks

Various smaller compartments are perfectly sized for storing extra pillows and blankets, datapads, personal items, and all sorts of things!

The gear lockers, which came with the original furnishing of the room, are built into the thicker walls of the honeycomb

The troopers will only very begrudgingly admit that the gear lockers are more suited for storing their kit than the honeycomb (they're very salty that the locker is not an optimal shape to fit in with the rest of the honeycomb)

Gear lockers are not honeycomb optimized

Anyway

Troopers are capable of creating beeswax just like any bee, albeit for much longer during their much longer lifespan, and in much larger quantities

Hence why in the doodle above, Wooley, who is off duty and helping to build up the honeycomb, is not wearing upper armor.

Bees produce wax from the underside of their abdomen, and trying to reach around to collect that while in full upper armor is... less than comfortable lol

Speaking of anatomy, despite being clones, all troopers' wings are entirely unique!

Well, almost entirely- twins have identical wings!

(this may or may not be a Secret of the Wings reference that movie is so good)

Clone trooper twins are grown in the same tube, and have a special connection

Twins are also SUPER rare

The iconic @cacodaemonia invented this concept for me, and as far as I'm concerned their OC Kom'mrk is 10000% canon and has matching wings to Boil!

(please for fucks sake yall go read Open Skies I stg my life has not been the same since)

Cadets have very weak wings when they're first decanted

It takes until they're about 3.5-4 standard for their wings to fully develop and strengthen enough for them to fly

Until then, they practice by buzzing a whole lot to strengthen the muscles in their torso

On another anatomical topic, the way that troopers communicate in the "hive mind" is via pheromones!

Just like bees, they have extremely sophisticated and complex pheromone signals that can only be detected by other troopers via their antennae

During the night cycle/sleep hours, troopers will try and keep quiet and communicate primarily via pheromones

If you're not a trooper (or a Jedi lol), the only way you'd be able to figure out their silent communication is with super complex and specialized equipment

On the other hand, troopers have to watch out for weapons from the Separatists that involve pheromone-mimicking gases

The gases could cause them to lose their sense of direction, get cut off from the rest of the hive, or other disorienting things

Speaking of directions!

(fuck i have so many ideas to get out lol)

While the idea of the troopers doing a proper bee waggle dance is absolutely hilarious and so cute to me, I think that in reality it'd be a bit more calm

Instead of lots of crazy shaking back and forth, it's more of a purposeful sway!

This.... does make dancing at 79's significantly more confusing when they first start learning to dance for fun

Echo: "are you telling me that there's something I need to go find 400 klicks away at 32 degrees??"

Fives: "what no I'm just having fun"

Unlike bees, who only use the sun, troopers can also use the moon to calculate their maps!

On planets with multiple moons and/or suns, the commander will choose one sun/moon to be used as the reference for all maps

When on a moon for a campaign, the moon's planet can also be used

In rare and difficult situations, troopers can also use particularly bright stars! Usually only the ARFs are skilled enough for that, though

I think for my next doodle I'll either do wolffe, fox, thorn, tup, and dogma OR the bad batch + omega... haven't decided yet! let me know if you have a preference lol

anyway thank you all for giving so many lovely comments on my previous post about these boys! i love yall so much <33333

<3 I do not give my consent or my permission for my art to be re-posted or reuploaded on this or any other website <3

60 notes · View notes

scaredofmyocs · 5 months

Text

she doesnt get any messages on her beeper :(

i think ab her line ab the beeper sometimes anyway guy who clearly hasnt done shading in a while does shading?? its ok i did a good background for once i never do good backgrounds

speaking of which i used this as reference for that um yeah i excluded a lot of stuff because hell in this game is hard to look at theres so many things going on here

#oh boy 3am #(its now 4am)#(when this posts it wont be 4am tho i just finished it then)#i love this blog i want to live here #art #umjammer lammy #um jammer lammy #um jammer lammy rammy #rammy ram #ujl #rammy

16 notes · View notes

bts-story · 1 year

Text

LOVE IS CHAOS

Previous chapters

Chapter 9 - Memories from above

You pulled back the white curtain with a sudden yank, revealing a man in his early twenties. He was lying on one of the hospital beds, several compresses in his mouth, blood-soaked absorbent cotton sticking out of his lips.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Ito. I'll be taking care of you today," you stated without much will, the weight of the long night of emergencies you had spent written on the dark circles under your eyes.

The man could not speak, he was lying motionless. He was wearing a black university outfit that was somewhat torn in some places, the collar of his white shirt stained with blood. The glasses over his eyes were cracked, a panicked look through the lenses. One of his sleeves was rolled up where a needle was stuck in it, connected to a morphine bag. There was also a beeper around his finger that monitored his heartbeat.

You had his file in your hands and as you read the information, you said, "So, Niragi Suguru, is that right?" A grunt was heard, "It says here that you slipped on the subway stairs, and bit your tongue when you fell." Another groan. "Okay, let's look at this together, shall we?"

The student straightened up on the bed and with a frantic look on his face, he looked at you apprehensively as you pulled on a pair of new latex gloves. You gently removed the cotton pads from his mouth one by one, being careful not to hurt him.

With a small flashlight, you inspected his mouth.

There was a lot of blood, his white teeth covered with a scarlet color. His tongue was so swollen that it took up most of the space in his mouth. In the middle there was a huge infected hole, redness all around and in some places the tongue turned white.

It was very odd, the way the hole had formed, something you didn't think would happen the way he described it. "Are you sure you got that from falling down the stairs? It looks more like a piercing that got infected..."

The man named Niragi muttered from the back of his throat, which you could understand as an affirmation that what he was saying was true.

It was hard to believe, and as a doctor, it was crucial to know exactly how a patient had been injured in order to determine how to properly treat them. It was impossible to get a gaping hole like that on a tongue just by running down a flight of stairs. The hole pierced his tongue, like a needle that had forced its way through.

Brow furrowed, you pulled your hands away from his mouth, seeking the student's frightened gaze. "Excuse me," you sighed in a weary, tired tone, not really buying his shit, "I can't treat you if you're lying to me."

You were tired of all those patients who didn't face their own stupidity. Just last night, a man had come in, his genitals bloody, claiming that he had cut himself while shaving. Only to find out that no, it was his dog that had bitten him while he was masturbating. You didn't give a damn about their two-bit stories, you didn't even have time to laugh about them because the workload on your shoulders was so enormous.

From your point of view, it was just a waste of time playing Sherlock Holmes to find out how their nonsense had come true, and less time spent in the shower or in your bed.

The man on the bed had an angelic face, fine features drawn with care. He had a soft but panicked look, a piercing on his eyebrow that contrasted with the shyness with which he looked at you. He avoided your eyes at all costs, as if the ember in your gaze could burn him to the ground.

"Hey, I recognize you, though! You were on the train that derailed, right?" You'd seen that same frightened face before, a face you never really would have noticed if not for the way his lips trembled every time you addressed him.

It wasn't that you were used to being wooed, drunk guys hitting on you while you were sewing their nonsense didn't count, but it wasn't that often that a man would blush so easily just at the sound of your voice. There was that pink tinge to his cheeks as blood began to leak from his lip.

Niragi shook his head from side to side, waving his hands in protest. This accident had happened about ten days before, and at the memory of that shy head avoiding your gaze, you remembered, "But... I sewed your brow back on, I think. Why did you put a piercing there?"

Indeed, on closer inspection, you could see the skin of his eyebrow tugged where you'd sewn it back on, as if the stitches had been ripped out deliberately. The piercing wasn't fully healed, you could see it clearly, where the bruised skin was still red.

You had enough experience, even if it was still short, to know that this kind of injury was often not an accident. You had already seen quite a few patients, and in any case, the emergency room was full of different cases. But this kind of wound was often the result of an intentional action.

There was a fright in Niragi's eyes as he tried to hide behind a false imposing look. His lips trembled and the blood finally trickled down his chin. The fingers of his hand absentmindedly played with the dead skin around his fingernails, and if you concentrated hard enough, you could surely hear the sound of his heartbeat beating against the bones of his rib cage.

"You didn't fall down the stairs, did you?" you stated softly, as if the realization had just hit you hard. You understood, and sadly, you completed, "And you weren't on the derailed train either, right?"

It was still impossible for Niragi to speak, his mouth on fire as his frightened gaze slowly turned into a shameful and demeaning sight. There was no point in lying now as you had unraveled the mystery around his wounds.

"Who did this to you?" You asked tenaciously, forgetting that he couldn't really talk. "Did you go to the police?"

It was too much for him all at once. He'd spent so much time hiding his pain and torment from the world, that suddenly being noticed made him lose his nerve. He had only one thing on his mind now: to disappear. He tried to get up from the bed, ready to run away as far as possible, away from his problems and away from the questions you were asking him.

"Hey whoa, where are you going?" You were trying to hold him back, pushing him back against the bed as he tried to walk past you.

He was ashamed, so ashamed to be a man who let himself be bullied like that. He wasn't a man, no, anyway, he was a nobody. A worthless piece of shit, just a piece of trash.

But he had gotten up so fast that his vision wavered, his head carried away in a tornado that spun, spun, spun. Niragi's hands were sweaty and his breath was coming hard into his lungs. The very idea of someone learning what he was going through every day, like a victim to his abusers made him feel as tiny as a speck of salt.

"Easy, easy," you pushed him against the mattress and Niragi blinked, as if trying to chase away the black dots that obstructed his vision. He hadn't reported it, but the way his mouth was eating him from the inside out was a pain that was very hard to bear.

The infection was itching, scratching and making his tongue throb unbearably.

He remained motionless on the mattress then, and looking in the cupboard of the small emergency room, you searched for some mild morphine to inject into his IV. This should be enough to ease his pain for another hour or two, without overdosing him on drugs.

You picked up a pack of new compresses, wetting them with saline before placing them gently on his swollen tongue. There was also the ointment you were looking for, which you put on the small table next to it to use in a few minutes. You glanced at the monitor that was beeping very softly over his head to check that his vitals were satisfactory enough before turning your attention back to him.

Niragi had opened his eyes again, his gaze fixed straight ahead on the wall in front of him, as if he had finally accepted the inevitability that he couldn't defend himself. "I... sorry," you apologized after a few minutes in a soft, repentant voice, "It's none of my business, I... I shouldn't have asked you all those questions."

It was kind of embarrassing to have to follow up after an accusation like that. You had been far too intrusive and even if it was just a projection of your good heart that only wanted to help him, he must have been a big enough boy to stand up for himself. You had a mountain of work to do anyway and your job was to care for the patients who came to you. You weren't a cop or a social worker.

The student didn't say anything, he couldn't talk anyway. But he let himself be treated without moving much, and once you had applied the ointment to his tongue, you gave the instructions that he should not close his mouth while the product was working. This should not have taken more than fifteen minutes, enough time for you to go and see another patient before coming back to see him.

You had gone to see an old lady in her fifties who had almost torn her finger off with a kitchen knife while cutting her carrots. The skin was split down to the bone, the ligaments and nerves visible as clearwater. All that needed to be done was to change her bandages, which had been soaked with blood for several hours.

Exactly twenty-two minutes later, you were heading back to Niragi's gurney. The patient from before had taken a little longer, and she kept moaning every time you touched her. She was a little bitch, according to you, and you would have let her know that if she didn't threaten to complain to your superior. A cunt, yes, that was the word.

"Shit, where did this one go?" The student's bed was empty, the rumpled sheets flipped over on the gurney. There was not a single thing of him left, only the bloody compresses littered the small table set on the side of the bed.

You turned around to look around, searching with your eyes in the middle of all those mattresses and patients if Niragi was not there. "Irina," you called a little further, your young colleague with very short hair and a white coat who looked up from her own patient, looking annoyed (it was a young boy who was holding his stomach, twisted with pains), "Have you seen the patient in bed 32? He was here fifteen minutes ago..."

"I don't know, Doctor Tanaka went around the beds earlier, see with him," she replied in an annoyed tone, trying to focus on the child in front of her who was giving her trouble cooperating.

So you headed to the counter where the nurses were hanging out updating all the patient files. The head doctor, your superior, was leaning against the counter, a forgotten file in his hands as he flirted shamelessly with one of the obviously embarrassed nurses. "Excuse me, doctor, did you see a young student come out of here? He was in bed 32 with an infected tongue wound..."

The doctor wasn't listening to a word you were saying, too busy giving indecent looks to another nurse who was walking by. You wanted to raise your eyes to the sky so high that they would fall off, but that was risking getting caught in the act for nothing, which would generate a reflection from him that was far too justified for your taste.

"Doctor Tanaka?" You repeated and the man finally looked at you, looking at you from head to toe as if you were nothing but a piece of dirt on the toe of his shoe. "Have you seen the patient in bed 32? Niragi Suguru?"

"Yeah, the guy wanted to leave so I discharged him." he explained in a weary tone, a smile playing on his lips as he turned his attention back to the nurse.

"But... We had to keep him at least overnight, his tongue was completely infected and -"

"Look, doctor... [Y/L/N]," he was looking for your name on your name tag that adored your chest, as if it hadn't been two years since you worked with him, "This is a hospital, not a prison. The guy wanted to leave, I let him go, okay? I think you still have work to do anyway."

It was an order to end the conversation, you could hear it clearly in the sound of his voice that left no room for an argument. Disappointed and annoyed (he really was the worst asshole in your eyes), you held back a sigh before turning on your heels.

It wasn't so much the fact that your patient's injury intrigued you, nor how and why it happened to him, but it was your instinct as a doctor that was outraged that you couldn't treat this injury properly. You knew he would have a hard time getting it to heal, and if he didn't treat his tongue right, it could lead to an irreparable fatality.

"Hey, doctor," the head doctor called over his shoulder as you began to walk away, "next time you question what I'm doing, there will be a sanction. Is that clear?"

Clear as a bell.

It was no longer your problem. Whatever you thought, Niragi's life was out of your hands and you couldn't legislate any longer on something that didn't concern you. And it should have stayed that way. Yes, you should never have met him a third time, because not only was it far too easy to call it a coincidence, but the way it happened was completely unacceptable.

"You've got a face, old girl, you do need to sleep..." Kana had said exactly one hour and twenty-seven minutes later in the absolutely dingy bar she had chosen to spend the evening. She was a young woman with very long black hair, often styled in braids, with a mole on her upper lip and always wearing make-up for any occasion, whatever it was.

You gave her an annoyed look as you sat down next to her, completely ignoring the way she was gently mocking you. "Yeah, and yet, here I am," you replied because she was the one who insisted that you come for a drink, just one drink, just to relax from the twenty-four hours of being on call that had absolutely wiped you out. It wasn't a bad idea, if only the softness of your mattress didn't seem to scream your name across town.

"Good thing I'm a golden friend and ordered you a lager, no ice, in a tall glass," she recited with a big smile on her face, proud to remember what you liked to sip on to take the edge off.

With a smile of contentment, you took the drink in your hands and once at your lips, the smell alone was enough to appreciate how this beverage would help you relax your shoulders.

You drank the beer with one sip, two, then three and finally, in no time, you finished all the liquid that went down your throat as easily as water. "Fuck, take it easy, are you nuts?" Kana commented, incredulous to see your glass empty as you set it back down on the table with a thud. You caught your breath quickly, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your sleeve. It wasn't exactly a very feminine gesture, you could admit, "Was the week really that hard?"

"You have no idea."

It was a good evening, after all, Kana always had a smile on her lips and the right word to cheer you up. Even if finally, the way she kept trying to push you into the arms of this handsome stranger who had been devouring you with his eyes for the last twenty minutes or so annoyed you slightly. "Come on, just go ahead, don't be such a buzzkill!"

"No, are you crazy? Look at me, I don't have my hair done, I don't have any makeup on, I just came off a twenty-four hour shift, I look like shit..." you were trying to argue, trying to ignore the dark eyes of this man who wasn't focusing on his own friends anymore but on you.

"That's right, if he's interested in you now, imagine his face when you come out with it..." she had that laugh in the back of her throat that made you roll your eyes.

And even though this man with short jet-black hair, pronounced facial structure and muscles visible through the fabric of his shirt, looked absolutely gorgeous (he was surely a very respectable man), you didn't have the courage to accept the advances he was making.

"A Sex on the Beach from the gentleman over there," a waiter was coming to bring you a red colored cocktail, with a straw and a cut pineapple on the edge of the glass. Kana's penetrating gaze insisted that you were far too much of a killjoy for her taste. Meeting the man's gaze nonetheless, he raised his glass in a gesture of cheers, before sipping his own drink.

"Honestly, you need to chill out, and there's a beautiful fucking stud right there to send you over the edge. What are you waiting for?" Kana was seriously insisting, and it's true that a good little one-night stand could bring you down in a way that alcohol couldn't.

But no, not then, not now. Not tonight.

"And you, you need to get off my back," you'd reply wearily, praying that she'd finally decide to move on. She still had that smile that made it impossible to be angry with her. You knew it was only her job as your best friend that made her like that, like a guardian who had to make sure your sex life didn't lose its importance.

"Are you crazy? No way," she echoed, laughing out loud, looking proud and petty.

You squinted at her, pushing the offered drink away in disgust, "I don't drink vodka anyway, so..."

Even though she didn't say anything, you knew Kana wasn't done with you. When she had something on her mind, it was very rare to succeed in changing her mind. And tonight she had decided that sooner or later she would get you to fuck a guy. It was all the more tiring to have to deal with her when you were so exhausted that you needed at least a dozen hours of sleep.

"You don't know what you're losing," she said as she took a sip of the drink, offering a nod of thanks to the guy who was chasing you from afar. You stood up, grabbing your coat and pulling it over your shoulders, your bag in your hand, "I'm not done with you, [Y/N]. You're going to give in, sooner or later."

You nodded so as not to contradict her. You didn't have the courage to argue about anything anymore, so you had to go home quickly. "Bye," you sang to ignore her accusing look, waving your hand in goodbye.

"Love you, bye," Kana called as you walked further and further away from the table.

You pushed your way through the crowd at the bar, trying to make your way to the exit. The trip home was not supposed to be more than ten minutes, but the sight of the pouring rain that was suddenly raging over the city of Tokyo made you swear under your breath. Your shoes were way too thin to keep them from getting wet, you didn't have an umbrella because the weatherman hadn't really predicted this nightly downpour (or maybe he had, but you wouldn't admit that you hadn't looked at the day's weather forecast for a few days already), and to top it all off, you didn't have a single penny in your pocket to take a bus and avoid this walk.

"Hey, wait," you'd hear far behind you as you took only about ten steps up the street. Behind you, the handsome stallion from the bar was running with small steps to catch up with you, a smile on the corner of his lips, "'Hi,'" he chuckled as he reached your level.

Unconsciously, you sighed. You already knew what he was going to say or ask before he did. Not that you had developed a mind-reading superpower, but you didn't have to be Einstein to deduce why.

"I... my name is Kenji, I have..." It seemed that in the end, he himself didn't know what he wanted to say. He scratched the back of his head absentmindedly, and he could hardly sustain your insistent gaze as you watched him intently. His voice was deep, and he towered over you by at least twenty inches, as if he had giant genes coursing through his veins. "I couldn't help but notice you in the bar earlier and..." Yeah, okay, so what? "I wanted to know if it was possible to get your number..."

A group of friends walked by you, their laughter loud and clear. You were embarrassed that you had to turn him down like that, if only he hadn't had the courage to run after you. "I'm sorry, I have to go home..."

It wasn't really a refusal, or just a way to get around a flat no to justify that in any case, he wouldn't get what he asked for. You turned on your heels quickly, resuming your walk and hoping that he would let it go.

"Please," he called behind you and you continued to walk away. "Can I at least get your name?"

It wouldn't have been unpleasant to be chased like that if only it were another day, another time. But fatigue was clouding your brain and preventing you from giving any information to this man who surely deserved a tiny chance.

"Wait, I just wanted to - Argh, what the - Argh!" He shouted behind you suddenly and with a jump you turned around to see what was going on. This man named Kenji was on the ground on all fours, head down against the ground. Next to him was another man, a little shorter than him, with hair plastered against his cheeks that stuck out of his hood, a black hoodie and in his hand, a gray box that he was clutching with all his might.

It was him. The patient from this morning with the infected tongue, standing in front of his victim, taser still activated as he looked at you with round eyes. "Oh my God," you exclaimed as you rushed over to Kenji, helping him up. "Is everything all right?" you asked but the man couldn't articulate a single word, shocked and immobilized with pain.

Niragi stood frozen in place, as if he himself could not believe what he had just done. He took a step backwards, then a second one and finally, taking his legs to his neck, he ran down the street with all his strength and disappeared in the distance.

"Who the fuck was that freak?" Kenji articulated with difficulty, trying to stand on his two legs that were still shaking from the shock.

Searching in the distance for Niragi's silhouette, you didn't have the words to give an answer to the question. Even though you knew the identity of the aggressor, you wondered how all this could have happened. What was he doing there? Why had he done this? Where had he been? How did he get there?

What made Niragi Suguru attack a man who was just talking to you?

//////// / / / / //////// / / ///// ///

Let's take this back a few years and admire how insecure Niragi was before being his now-self; kinda cute though no?

I hate ending chapters like, I never know how to do this shit -sighs-

Nageoire

#Niragi Suguru #Niragi #Niragi aib #aib niragi #niragi x reader #Niragi x you #alice in borderland #aib #alice in borderland niragi #love is chaos #Chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #aib chishiya #alice in borderland chishiya

60 notes · View notes

alvisiscrazy · 8 months

Text

The demon of the night. (pt 1)

TW-blood play, curssing, sex talk, drugs

summary- a cook for Elvis comes to realize he is really more to what we know, he is something outta this world like a book or a fairytale.

I gotten to work at the time I was supposed to lately I’ve been trying to move out my apartment while on top of working it was starting to get stressful but I needed the money.

“Y/n I need you on the night shift tonight and tomorrow night” my manger said

I nod, changing into my uniform looking in the mirror I looked alright, I started my shift preparing for breakfast which was Elvis’s favorite meal of the day. One thing I liked about working for Elvis I never had to face him alone they’d be two of us going to give him the food he never was the type to complain, I had prepared the eggs with less salt and pepper using a little now making his toast once I was finished the second cook had made his favorite juice (cranberry juice) “All set let’s get this food up to him” We went upstairs knocking on the door once for him to know his food is ready, I went to clean the dishes I had used then I heard the beeper go off “Can someone come upstairs Mr. Presley needs assistance” I answered the phone “I will be up” I said making my way to the side staircase knocking on the door “Come in” He sounded piss I let out the air in my lungs now opening the door. He turned in a quickness “These eggs have no seasoning, take this trash back” he said nearly throwing the place at me “Yes sir- right away” I said grabbing the plate “And clean up this damn mess” I quickly hurried downstairs to grab the broom, I had cleaned up the mess “Tell Macy to come up” Macy was my manger “Yes sir” I said I went into the office "Mary, Elvis wants you" She sighed "It's always something with him" She said putting the stack of papers in her desk, I made my way back into the kitchen to finsh cleaning "Y/n come in my office" She yelled I made my way into her office "Sit" she said I sat "Elvis said you have inproved your cooking skills,he wants you to travel with him" What? I thought he hated my cooking "Oh well um- thanks I need some time to think" I said "You get paid extra for traveling he isn't that hard to handle" That triggerd something in my brain "Well okay when do I start?" I asked "In two days, so get packed" Macy said. I gotten home from work in shock that I got offered to be Elvis's personal chef "What's gotten into you?" My roomate Kelly asked "I gotten offered to be Elvis, the king's personal chef while he travels" Kelly's face had dropped "What did you say?" "I said hell yea, I mostly need the extra cash" I said "I'm glad you need to get out see the world, speaking James had came by looking for you" She said "Gross, why?" She shook her head, I took a shower getting ready for bed I gotten the chills no air was on I was confused I felt this presence cold just cold I didn't mind it thinking I left my windown open.

(two days later)

I was all packed I placed my bags in my trunk now heading to work, I had some time to grab a coffee I gotten to work on time as always ( the first one here), I walked in heading to the basement to change into my uniform I looked at the meal list today (waffles, eggs) I made homemade waffles that my grandma had showed when I was little I even made the eggs how Elvis liked it, I knocked on the door “Bring the food to me, I can't get up" He said I slowly opened the door "Morning sir" I said with a smile I couldn't read what mood he was in today. I placed the napkins on his lap and putting the food tray over his legs "Anything else you would like sir?" I said with a smile once again "No...go" He said looking at the tv "Wait.. My heart sunk out my chest... "The food is good, keep up the good work" He said with a smile "Thank you sir" I closed the door letting out all the air in my lungs.

The day had went by fast now my shift was over I waited for Elvis to call and come get me from my house..... The phone had rung twice I didn't even notice "Hello, goddamn about damn time, I'm here" He said with a harsh tone "Oh- ok coming sir" I ended the line I made my way to Kelly's room "I'm off, wish me luck" I said waving "Bye, goodluck" I made my way out the door seeing Elvis's limo I got in the limo the men placed my bags in the trunk I sat in the back close to Elvis once again getting that cold feeling my arm brushed up against his arm cold just cold.

We gotten to the airport around 12 ish Elvis had gotten a private jet he didn’t want to be consumed by any fans, I gotten on the plane after Elvis looking for something to drink I opened the mini fridge seeing blood bags of all kinds and I looked up I saw Elvis running towards me “What the hell are you doin?” He yelled closing the mini fridge “Sorry I just wanted water” “Under no circumstances you go in my fridge ya hear?” He said staring in my eyes “Yes sir” I said backing up.... He was being was weird

I was nervous after what happened earlier so I kept my distance from Elvis going into the bed he said I could sleep in, I woke up looking outside the window it was daylight I turned over seeing him asleep he looked so peaceful his messy hair his soft looking lips.... I shouldn't be saying this I gotten up making my way into the front of the plane I had asked one of the workers for water and food, In the next hour we finally landed, at the hotel Jerry one of Elvis's workers told me I will be working in a private kicthen from everyone else which I didn't mind... I gotten my own room away from everyone I was more then happy I called my mom "Hey, guess where I am" I said laughing "Where?" She asked "In Vegas" My hometown "Oh, Y/n I wanna see you" She said with a happy tone "Me to, maybe I could get out of working sometime" I said thinking "You came out here for work?" She asked "Yes, I still work Elvis I am his personal chef" "Well, talk to him I wanna see you" She said I was getting a call from a diffrent line "Hey, I'll call you later Love you" "Okay, love you" I ended the line with my mom "Hello" I said "Elvis says come up for lunch" Jerry said "Um- Okay I will be up soon" I said ended the line, Looking for a okay outfit since tomorrow is my first day on the job I ended up putting on a pair of jeans and a T- shirt with some old converse....

I waited by the elevator (ding ding) I went up the penthouse "Welcome" Jerry said he glanced at my outfit chucking to himself "His gonna love this" I heard him say... He opened the door to the penthouse all eyes shot on me I sat at the table smiling at everyone... We ate lunch but I stayed quiet mostly the whole group started to reminisce on old times... Elvis excued the table I gotten up "Y/n stay seated" He said I sat once again awkwardly He waited for everyone to leave the penthouse he sighed really loud "May I ask why'd you come in here dressed like a hippy?" "Well I didn't bring anything else I thought I was only here for work" I said looking down "I don't like it, so change it" He said harshly "Okay, I will" I said looking up at him noticing the color change in his eyes "Jerry will take you to my favoite stores tomorrow, you may be excued"

I gotten up in the quickness heading the door holding back my tears... I gotten to my room calling my mom "Hey, I can see you now" I said "How about you come for dinner?" "Sounds good to me" I said "Okay, see you then" I ended the line.... I stayed in my room til it was 5 then my lined rung "Hello" I said "Hey, Elvis wanted to know what you wanted for dinner" Jerry said "I'm going over my mom's for dinner tonight" I said "I will let Elvis know" Jerry said ending the line

I gotten ready putting on a skirt set with my white converse I put my hair in a high ponytale doing my makeup.... I went to the lobby seeing a familer limo... Elvis rolled the window down "Get in" He said I rolled my eyes "What?" "Get in the damn car y/n" I got in the limo crossing my arms "I want to meet your mother" He said "You don't even know where she lives" I said "I do, wasn't that hard to find it" I gottten the chills I turned my head facing the window "I like the outfit" He said I didn't mind him at all then I thought of Macy's words "He isn't that hard to handle" He was I can tell this was starting to be a bad idea.... We pulled in the driveway I quickly gotten out heading the door knocking on the door my father had opened the door "Hey, y/n I missed you" "I miss you to daddy" I said hugging him It's been 4 whole years since I seen my parents "How the hell are you" He asked "I'm great" I saw his eyes widen "And you brought a guest Elvis" he shouts "Oh, that's my boss" I said "Where's mom?" I asked "She went to the store, but your sister is in town as well" I nod he opened the door letting us in the house still looks the same as when I left it brought me peace I went upstairs to see my old room the posters the hippy stuff I laid on my old bed day dreaming of how it used to be before life came at me with everything it had. “You are a true hippy" I heard him say.

#elvis x reader #the demon of the night elvis #elvis

20 notes · View notes

writeshite · 2 years

Note

Would you be alright with writing some Mark angst where Mark and the reader are exes, and they didn’t end in good terms. Mark is trying to change his ways to be a better man to prove he wants them back but the Reader has a lot of anger towards him still. Mark gets hurt really bad, and has to be taken in for an emergency procedure since he’s between life akd death. The ex is the only one who can perform it since he’s the only specialist in the area. After successfully finishing the surgery and waits for Mark to wake in recovery, he thinks about all the times Mark made an effort to fix things and actually meant it so when Mark does wake, they talk things out amd start over.

Not A Day Goes By, I Don't Think Of You

Summary:

“I’m sorry for wishing you’d break your neck,” you apologized, “I’m also sorry for wishing I could strangle you sometimes.” You shuffle forward so your hand can touch his cheek, “And I..uh...I’m sorry I tried to shove the apology letter down your throat….” You laugh to yourself, “I know you think I didn’t notice, but I…I did, and I…I’m ready to talk.” You sniffle, wiping away tears, “Shitty timing, right?”

Pairings:

Mark Sloan x Male!Reader

Tags:

Angry Reader | Hurt Mark | Surgery | Talking About Feelings Like Adults (✨le gasp✨)

Words: 1180

Author's Note:

I'm sorry for taking a long time to write this, but I'm going through all the asks in my inbox too 😭🫡

You and Mark are, or rather were, the hospital’s it couple, next to Shepherd and Grey; you walked side by side into work, held hands, kissed, all that good shit. Then you weren’t; then, you were moving your things into a new apartment and ignoring each other like the plague. You don’t remember who said what, though really you’d prefer not to, but now the two of you couldn’t go one moment speaking without picking apart the wounds of your relationship. And after some time, it was easier to look into Mark’s eyes; it was evident that whatever was there still existed, tucked away in a little corner of your hearts. For Mark, it wasn’t as he seemed to have started a crusade to, as Burke had put it, better himself for you.

Which, at times, did butter you up, but there was still some leftover anger that slowly dissipated the longer you stared at him lying in the hospital bed. The idiot got himself hurt, the stupid, brave, imbecilic…you try not to dwell on the thought as it just makes you squeeze his hand harder. “Of all the ways to get hurt, you decide to do it in my specialty? You’re a damn fool Mark.” The bandage around his head had been rewrapped just an hour ago, and the ones around his neck had stopped bleeding, but Mark was yet to open his eyes. “The next time you want to risk your neck and head, don’t,” you mutter, rubbing circles on his skin.

You’d been keeping sane these past weeks by visiting him every chance you got; after the first week, the chief relieved you of duty and had you take a break to be with him. Your nerves were fried, and your senses were all over the place, “Grey and Shepherd might be getting engaged, so you should wake up. Burke and Yang might also be breaking things off, but I’m not sure about that one.” You’d talk about the latest going on in the hospital and the world; sometimes, Mark’s chest would rise as if he was holding his breath, ready to surprise you with a laugh, then he’d breathe out, and his eyes would stay closed.

“By the way, your neck muscles are shit,” you jest, “your ears were fine though, at least operation-wise. You’re lucky I didn’t make them smaller or anything in surgery.” There’s a brief smile on your face, but it doesn’t last long as you remember when Mark was wheeled in that day, your beeper had been going off like crazy; before you could even walk in to assess your patient, Dr. Bailey had stopped you, her hands on your arms.

“Before you go in there, I’m going to need you to take a deep breath,” she’s told you.

“What? Why?” you’d asked, face drawn into confusion.

“Just take a deep breath for me, please,” she’d insisted until you did so, “Dr. Sloan’s in there.”

You had scoffed, “Oh god, what does he want now? Can’t he just let me work?” Grumbling to yourself, “You’d think he's about to die with the way he’s clinging around me.”

“He is about to die.” You’d turned back to her, and Dr. Bailey pursed her lips, “Remember what I said about those deep breaths?”

“No, Mark…he can’t, he was fine…he’s not dying….”

Dr. Bailey directed you to the window, nodding at the nurses and doctors in the surgical room, they lifted the curtain, and there he was. Mark, attached to a breathing machine, blood pouring from his ears and neck, laid up on a pillow, his head was bandaged, but even that was still bleeding profusely. “I’m sorry to have to ask you to do this, but as our only ENT specialist, we don’t have much of a choice. Dr. Shepherd has assured me there won’t be any neurological damages, but that leaves the rest of his head.”

You remember feeling a sense of nausea, then guilt at all the times you’d let the anger take over and cursed Mark, “I hope you get hit by a bus,” or “God, can’t you just leave me alone?!” or any other wish of injury to his person. But it had been more out of angry endearment, but looking at him, you felt like curling up into a ball. “We can have another ENT come in, but—”

“You’re not sure if he has that much time,” you finish for her, “he might get more infections, or develop worsening after effects or…” you shake your head, pushing the thought away; you pick the scrubs, slipping them on with Dr. Bailey’s help, your trembling hands go under the water, and as you clean them, you retake those deep breaths. Counting numbers until you walk into the surgical room and up to Mark, you turn up to the gallery and thank every god you can think of that it’s only Dr. Bailey up there. You’re not sure if you could do this with onlookers commenting on every detail.

The surgery had gone well, and now all that was left was for Mark to wake up if he would wake up at all. You tried not to listen to the latter half of that; the chance of him waking was significantly larger than not.

You sniffle, wiping away tears, “Shitty timing, right?” Your answer comes in the form of coughing and laughing, the tears haven’t really stopped, but they’ve blurred your sight slightly; you blink them away and find Mark smiling at you.

“If I knew getting into a car accident would get me this–”

“Don’t you dare joke about that,” you interrupt. He tries to sit up, but you rush forward to stop him; placing your hand on his chest, you push him back lightly, and he puts his hand on yours. He’s not as strong as he would be, but he still grips your hand, “I hate you.”

“I know,” he responds. “And I’m sorry about the fight; I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

You shake your head, “You’re not the only one who was a dick; I was one too; I said what I said, knowing it would hurt you,” you lament, “I was probably the bigger dick.”

Mark grinned, “Doubt it; besides, I’m pretty sure physically….” You bite your lip to try and stop your laughter, but Mark’s joke has you smiling. “There’s the smile I love to see.”

“All jokes aside, I know it’s probably a bit late to say it, but I’d like to start over,” you say. Mark reaches out his arm, you lean forward, and he kisses your nose; he holds your hands and nods, smiling.

“I’d love to.”

End Note:

I hope you enjoyed reading this shite, stay hydrated.

#mark sloan x reader #mark sloan x male reader #grey's anatomy imagine #shiterequests

235 notes · View notes

cockneydio · 2 years

Text

Vaguely contemporary bucci gang cell phone shitpost

Inspired by this amazing post by @uminozerol I can't believe I actually followed through on this i hope this means my executive is functioning again omg anyway: (and I don't wanna hear shit from you gremlins about "this phone came out in 2003" It's about the energy of the era okay!):

Bruno Bucciarati

Bruno was that guy with a lot of communication devices, for crime reasons (which btw is why such devices used to be banned in schools). To wit:

Crime beeper, but you gotta make sure those payphones aren't up on the wire Booch

Blackberry with the click wheel that was the first of the more elevated "pager🧐" type devices. U could get email on them so that's pretty cool. He had a Palm Pilot in the 90s but could never get it to sync to his PC, mostly because his PC was running MS-DOS and yknow what was probably actually still just a word processor lbh.

But I'll be damned if my man isn't seen with the sexiest newest whip on the market, before it hits the market, even if he doesn't know what half the functions are. So he gets a Razr, which I understand is hot and new again. Hits the globe key once and incurs $39,768 in data usage fees.

Pannacotta Fugo

Nokia 5110. Sturdy. Reliable. Always there when you need it. Won't leave you in a lurch when the going gets tough. He sees no need to update to a newer model, and amuses himself by changing the face plates to the most crude and offensive things that one mall kiosk has to offer. Also you can crack someone's orbital bone if you bring the corner of one of these suckers down on their face. Probably the kind of phone Naomi Campbell used.

Leone Abbacchio

one of these construction hat yellow Nextels that let you chirp on it like a walkola-talkola because he's still got that boot shoved way way down his throat but nobody ever chips him on it bc nobody ever needs to speak with Leone Abbacchio that urgently. He wears it on the belt clip that you have to buy separately.

Guido Mista (i accidentally put this in order of when they joined the gang I think..like I did this at random and put it in my notes at random and still I- )

This boy grew up thinking a car phone inside a Cadillac was the height of class and he's not wrong so he owns the car phone, but not the car. Even more unfortunately for mista, these things don't actually need to be installed in a car in order to work? So imagine Guido "Swagnificent" Mista hanging on the street corner with one of these 26-lb beauties hanging on his shoulder, cord all kinked for no reason, antenna out the back, lookin' fly for the ladeez. You can't because he doesn't.

Narancia Ghirga

SIDEKICK! So fun for The Teens amirite MTV?? It flips horizontal and Backstreet Boys vertical! Isn't that fun! And it has a whole keyboard but it's Abercrombie cool cos it's not a lame old blackberry like dad has! Limited edition Juicy Couture model bc that's the random image I clicked on and nothing could top that except for maybe von Dutch.

Giorno Giovanna

This bastard uses a land line because he is an asshole, which of course then becomes a personality trait. Will drop unnecessary bits of information about Guglielmo Marconi when he's waxing on about the superiority of tangible, wired communication, and because he's the boss everyone has to listen and agree.

#i took the juicy couture sidekick photo off a site listing it for a thousand dollars #bruno bucciarati #leone abbacchio #giorno giovanna #guido mista #narancia ghirga #pannacotta fugo #bucci gang #jojo shitpost #calliope shitposts #giorno's right about ethernet connections at any rate

152 notes · View notes

undertalebrittle · 8 months

Text

A more proper version of the askblog lineup. It doesn't matter if you use the official name (i.e., Underfell Brittle, Underswap Brittle) or the distinctive name (Underfell Bright, Underswap Beam).

---

Content Warning: The Brittle Universes occasionally use sensitive or taboo topics, such as:

Substance abuse, medical malpractice, incest (not between the brothers/cousins and only in one universe), Vendetta, potential cannibalism, death, Vendetta, brainwashing and manipulation, body horror, severed body parts-- have I mentioned Vendetta? Fantasy racism. Guns. [REDACTED] up family dynamics.

---

But don't worry.

No matter what, I'll censor out the [REDACTED] swearing.

Undertale Brittle

Brittle: A husk-like Green Monster (doctor) who specializes in Limb Regeneration and Reattachment. Frequently winds up in strange situations due to his obliviousness. Follows orders from the Hotland Doctorate to the letter and is completely loyal to the crown. Was once a photographer, but hasn't touched a camera in years.

Senze: A standoffish, secretive, older skeleton who fells trees for firewood. He's often mistaken for his long deceased cousin, Sans. He lives outside of Snowdin with his Gaster Blaster dogs, in the Wafer Woods. He sometimes references things that haven't happened. Was married and has a daughter in Waterfall. Wafer coffee addict.

---

Underfell Brittle/ Underfell Bright

Vendetta: A violent military man who despises Humanity for being inferior to Monsters. He holds strength above all, and enjoys tearing people apart. Respects rank and follows orders-- no matter how unpleasant. Collects trophies from those who cross him and enjoys flaunting them. Nigh-invulnerable, he enjoys making others uncomfortable by eating glass and bathing in lava. Living with his brother on the direct order of King Asgore. Blatantly racist and sexist.

Roller: A sensitive mural painter and part-time construction worker. A bit shy, but friendly. Often watches over Vendetta, trying to control whatever damage he does. Collects pressed flowers and is a tortured artist. Unsure of himself.

---

Underswap Brittle/ Underswap Beam

Jabot: An old-fashioned young accountant with a myriad of health problems. Walks everywhere with a cane. Doesn't get along with his older brother and isn't afraid to call him out in public when he does something particularly off-kilter. Has too many allergies to avoid and medicines to take. Deals with chronic pain and only has eight fingers total.

Krill: A wannabe thug who aims to be a famous rapper. He's loud, angry, and determined to be heard. He can't read or write, but his body is remarkably sturdy despite him not knowing how to take care of himself. He smells vaguely like mold and forces people to listen to his mixtapes. Swears in front of children and the elderly. Wears a heavy metal medallion because he thinks it looks cool.

---

Fellswap Brittle/ Beeper

Wysteria: A hunter who cares for his older brother and trades furs and meat for goods. He's friendly, willing to talk to anyone with something to talk about. Enjoys good ol' shenanigans and learning about the technologies from alternate universes.

Beeper: A shambling husk of what he could have been. Has been charged with various harassments in the past, and is a repeat offender. Speaks in raspy breaths and has restraints keeping him from thrashing or lashing out and hurting someone or scratching his eyes out. His restraints have tiny speakers that emit a beep every five minutes-- announcing his presence and helping others find him when he wanders off.

---

Undertale Brittle Biephasic Terror

Bie: An unnervingly confident urologist who laughs at inappropriate times. The youngest of the Terror Brothers. Won't admit when he's in the wrong, but also doesn't acknowledge the faults of others. His SOUL is permanently under his chin (SOULs are referred to as THE HEART in the Brittleverse). He never takes off his glasses. Afraid of cigarettes.

Phasicor: Gaster, the neurotic, forgotten middle brother who works at a convenience store. His body has oddly stretched out proportions-- his hands reach his calves, and he matches Vendetta's height. He has a daughter and a girlfriend. Afraid of cigarettes.

Teer: The oldest of the Terror Brothers-- works for a shady loan company. Doesn't enjoy the company of others. Presentable, but keeps people at arm's length and doesn't interact much outside of work. Hasn't used a vacation day in years. Mentally rejects the fact that the Brittle Void exists, even when he's standing in it. Afraid of cigarettes, but chain-smokes.

---

Repeat askers are allowed and encouraged, as are objects and food you have drawn.

Don't be put off by the content warnings-- if something particularly off happens, I'll put it under a "Keep Reading" bar with a warning above the cut. And I'll try to put it in the tags, but I'm not familiar with all of the trigger warning terms, so feel free to put it in the replies and I'll stick it in.

...

he he… ✨shenanigans✨…

#undertale #undertale au #undertaleau #ut brittle #au papyrus #au sans #us beam #utb biephasic #uf bright #fs beeper #ask blog

7 notes · View notes

lixxen · 17 days

Note

can you tell us about the worldbuilding of your new au?

Why of course!

To start this off though, let me tell you a fun little thing about the Blog AU that is built in!

We made this AU with the idea that people who read it can put their characters into it. You know the Cafe AU that everyone is sticking their OCs in? You can do something similar! The fic is going to be canon to y'all but y'all won't be 100% canon to the fic so you guys can interact with the canon! So we genuinely encourage you guys to make outside content and make your OCs blogs or designs for this. Go crazy with it and join in! I will eventually need usernames and a few other things for the blog/forum skins. If you make anything, make sure to tag me on here (and if it's on Instagram, I'm Lixxendraws). I want you guys to be able to draw/write your characters in this AU because it'd be such a fun thing to do!

Anyways.

There are a few doodles of their official outfit designs but I don't like how they look. But I will post them eventually!

Here is the world building Under The Cut

Branch's Kismet identity is Bass while his in person one is Lapis for the sake of his safety and privacy.

Technology:

Napbug: digital audio sharing website whereP3 files are shared. Mostly for music rips and downloads

TOL: the internet hosting. Mostly known for the chatroom they speak on. You need to know the person's connection code to directly connect to them. You can chat on it and view forums/blogs directly from their TOL. You can have up to four identifications per computer

PHP (personal homepage): the blog domains they use. They can be reached outside of TOL, along with personal forums

Trollums: the nicknames for forums. You can find people's TOL & PHP on trollums and it is how people mostly find blogs

BeeperBugs (beepers): little hugs that act like pagers. They will send and receive messages somehow (they never figures it out). You will hear them beep and they can carry codes; you can put them onto landlines and they will put in the numbers. They also can use Morse code to send messages instead of needing calls.

Computers: dial up computers. They are simple and can connect to CD drives (not built in), VHS players, floppy disks, cassettes, and can burn CDs/DVDs. They're big and chunky; no laptops. Internet cafes and libraries are popular due to not as many people having them. People learn coding to break and customize them

Cassettes and MP3 players: they are popular and do not have earbuds. Only over ear headphones that are wired.

Very basic printer/fax machines that run off landlines

Televisions: tube/box TVs. Podbuster is a popular VHS and DVD rental/store. DVDs are barely used due to being new

Film cameras are very much still used and popular. People will develop themselves or take them to the library to be digitalized. There's services to develop photos still

Zines exist! They will be produced by a group of fans and sent out. They will trade items or find ways to collect money to pay for them. You will find forums dedicated to zines and posting zines months after print release. There is big fan culture

Blogs are every big. Normally personal blogs will interact with each other and have fun; but then there's fan blogs. They only post about their interests and will post some personal stuff. They're almost always anonymous unless you directly know them.

Blog lore:

PinkBandLyfe is a popular BroZone and Kismet blog that always has the best images, videos, and MP3s. They've nicknamed the blog owner Pinkie and know her bias is Clay, but since she is around Bitty B’s age, she has a soft spot for him. Bass in Kismet is her bias. But since Bass is a private person she promotes healthy boundaries and privacy. She preaches for Bitty B and Bass’s privacy. She's speculated a few times but that's it. Everyone gives her her privacy and keep her identity secret since she is big on that and they respect her (and fear her disappearing). Her blog is chaotic but well organized and out together!

BatterBug is a survival/doomsday blog that people learn survival skills from and it talks about literally everything and anything about tragedy and skills to use in them. They call the owner BB and call him paranoid. But it's useful so he has a following

ReverbFan27 is a Bad Hair Day blog that isn't as in-depth as PinkBandLyfe. The blog is run by the user who has been nicknamed 27. He tends to be more practical and people enjoy watching him ramble about the technical aspects of the performances. They know his older brother, who is nicknames Ef, was into them first and got 27 into it. They only know that, he is a Billy Reverb bias, and he is the youngest child. The rest is a secret. They speculate who he is because sometimes he has the best pictures of BHD. But they haven't figured it out yet. He's VERY organized

Everybody knows Pinkie and 27 are friends and they helped each other get popular. Sometimes you will see them give each other content to post! 27 somehow has never before seen BroZone stuff or will mention he has rare collectibles that Pinkie lives for

People ship Pinkie and 27. They laugh and brush it off

Misc story lore that isn't spoilers:

Bergens made peace 10 years earlier when Poppy accidentally ran into Bridget when she ran off angrily. She helped Bridget on her own and it creates positive political ties!

The kingdoms live how they are post Trolls World Tour due to (unspecified) events happening! It is noted to happen a generation ago with King Thrash and King Peppy taking thrones

The kingdoms now have bigger populations and are more spread out! They have multiple cities and towns. Neighboring troll tribes now touch, but you must put in effort to travel

Royals freely live amongst their people in society due to respect from the people. They're big on “humanizing” the royals. Royals are not big on public appearances outside of their kingdoms. The ambassadors are the only ones seen in the wild

Branch spends his free time reading/writing in the coffee shop or in a library. He normally has his headphones on with a Walktroll (walkman). He lives to write his blog posts by hand first, so he writes them in the coffee shop. He also carries around a camera to take pictures of things. He develops them himself in his pod and put them on the walls if they're good then in albums if they're okay or bad. He has a TON of childhood photos from Rosiepuff, who died a natural death before he joined Kismet. He uses her camera. He so takes a ton of pictures of Kismet and sends them to Pinkie!

6 notes · View notes