#And she left that sensitive topic at that as a doll and

[strawberry38]

new thought spiral

Like in 00s movies adapting popular cartoons. Families were watching those movies.

The sequel movie with Obelix, he liked a girl. The bubble clone happened, she didn't reject the guy just went with him but when the clones were dissapearing she wanished too

Ment the original girl didn't go out with him (or for daydreamers: the real one confused that person for another clone 😅😂)

[ellecdc]

Hey I have a request:

Could you do poly marauders but Sirius and reader prank James and Remus by saying she is pregnant and then she finds out she is actually pregnant and they don't believe her straight away.

You don't have to if you don't want to.

Thank you ❤️

hi sweets! so I ended up changing this a litttllllee bit simply because I wasn't comfortable writing about joking re: pregnancy [just cuz it's a sensitive topic for many]. but I hope I did the rest of the request justice! <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader who is not pranking them right now [1.7k words]

CW: pregnancy tests, reader is pregnant, everyone is surprised but generally happy about the pregnancy

You supposed you shouldn’t be entirely surprised that this is how the boys would react; it probably did seem suspicious that this would come up now. 

Now being that the four of you were in the middle of a sort of prank war. 

No, not sort of, it was a full out prank war, no holds barred.��

It had started when James and Remus convinced you and Sirius that the two of you had locked you all out of your flat, forcing Sirius (with James’ help) to have to shove you up the fire escape and crawl through the window, hauling Sirius up behind you only to find Remus sitting casually in his chair and James bursting through the front door laughing. 

“That doesn’t even make sense, you guys.” Sirius grumbled as he used the bottom of his shirt to wipe sweat from his eyes and you swept cobwebs out of your hair. “James had to work just as hard as we did to get in.” 

“No,” James countered, “I got to touch Y/N’s bum as we hoisted her up, and then got to watch your arms flex as you climbed up after her.” 

Then, as retribution, you and Sirius took their phones and changed the name of every single one of their contacts to Dennis Quaid. 

In retaliation, Remus and James taped fake spiders behind the lampshades, and one evening you’d been walking into the living room with a bowl of popcorn when Remus asked Sirius to turn the lamp on, resulting in an ear splitting screech from Sirius and a sea of popcorn littering the floor. 

Cling wrap was added to the tops of shampoo bottles before the tops were recapped, causing more than a few shower meltdowns. The sugar for tea was replaced with salt. Blow up dolls were hidden behind doors. Furniture was moved several inches to the left. Picture frames throughout your home were replaced with images of Steve Buscemi. 

It was fun, it was harmless, it was good natured. Did it result in Sirius shouting profanities after coming face to face with an inflatable clown? Sure. Did Remus spit his tea out and curse and mutter under his breath in Welsh when he had to go and make himself another cup? Yeah. Did James demand his mother prove to him that she wasn’t really Dennis Quaid by facetiming him? Absolutely, and the mischievous glint in Euphemia’s eyes was a prize in and of itself. 

So while you didn’t necessarily blame them for being suspicious of you, you were a little insulted that they thought you would take it this far.

You’d been feeling extremely lethargic lately, and when that lethargy was followed by full body aches, you had chalked it up to an oncoming period. Except that period never came.

It never came.

But the two pink lines did.

“Oh my god…” You whispered, plastic in one hand as you covered your mouth in a silent gasp with the other. “Oh my god.” You repeated, slightly louder as you all but stumbled out of the ensuite into your bedroom.

“I know it was you, Sirius!” You heard Remus shout from down the hall.

“I swear to God, I didn’t touch the remote.” Sirius laughed. 

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you.” James' voice retorted, rising in volume as he made his way down the hall towards your shared room. “Angel, do you know where Sirius hid the remote?” 

You were frozen in the middle of the room with your hand still covering your mouth as you stared down at the positive pregnancy test in your hand. 

“Angel?” James asked quietly as he moved towards you. “Are you alright?”

A breath left your lips but you found that you couldn’t bring yourself to form an intelligent response.

Your view of the test quickly included James’ socked feet in front of yours and a gentle hand on your wrist so he could see what you were holding. “Wha-” he began, though fell silent when the fact that you were holding a pregnancy test was undeniable. 

“Oh fuck, that’s a good one.” He let out with a breath, laughing as he backed away from you. “Fuckin’ hell, you almost had me there for a moment.”

“Nice try, Sirius!” He called as he exited your room, leaving you standing there with your mouth open and your heart in your stomach. 

“Nice try, what?” You heard Sirius call back as you mindlessly followed James out of the room and towards the living room; limbs working on autopilot as your brain was reduced to a steady chant of oh my god oh my god ohmygod ohmygodohmygodohmy- 

“What? Was the whole remote thing just a bit?” James chuckled as he reclaimed his spot on the love seat and Sirius’ brows furrowed where they were pointed down at the phone in his hand.

“A bit for what? And for the last time, I didn’t hide the remote.”

“So we still don’t know where the sodding remote is?” Remus grumbled as he stood from his chair and started moving all of the cushions again. 

“Come on, spill; the jig is up.” James continued. “It didn’t work.”

“James.” You tried, but your throat was so tight that his name only came out as a silent whimper. 

“What didn’t work?” Sirius asked again, finally looking up at James from his phone.

“The pregnancy test.” James replied, causing Remus to pause in his cushion wrangling to look at him in bemusement.

“Wh- what? What pregnancy test? What is he talking about?” Sirius rapid fired as he turned his gaze to you, standing from his seat but not making any moves to approach you. 

Another helpless sound fell from your lips as you shrugged at Sirius helplessly; one hand still holding the test, the other hand still covering your mouth. 

“Wait, what is going on?” Remus asked as he returned to his full height, James shaking his head in admonishment as he moved to stand beside him. 

“These two think they’re so clever, pranking us with a pregnancy test.”

Remus let out a snort, but James’ explanation seemed to restart Sirius’ brain as he rushed over to you in two large strides before pulling your hand closer to him so he could read the test.

“Pregn- babe?” He barely managed to spit out, moving his gaze from the test to your face when you didn’t answer. 

You shrugged helplessly at him again which seemed to tell him all he needed to know as he loosened his grip on your wrist, though he didn’t let go, before tracing soothing circles over your pulse point with his thumb. 

“Did you splurge on acting lessons, Sirius? You look like you’re about to pass out.” Remus chuckled, though his face fell dramatically when you finally looked over at him with tears pooling in your eyes. 

“Whoa, whoa whoa, hey, dovey. What’s going on?” He started as he moved across the room, James not far behind him.

“I-” You tried, but the next sound that left your lips was a sob.

“Oh, oh. Oh my god….oh my god, it’s not a prank at all, is it?” James whispered mostly to himself, though you shook your head at him anyways causing a few tears to finally fall from your lash line. 

“Oh my god, angel, I’m so sorry, I- I can’t believe I laughed at you. Fuck, oh my god, I-”

The next thing you knew, the test was being plucked from your hand rather gently before it was passed to James to look at again, and Remus pulled both of your hands away from your body and wrapped them around himself. 

“Sirius.” James whispered and when you turned to look, Sirius was leaning against James to get a better look at the test cradled in his hands. “Sirius, Sirius…”

Sirius let out an emotional laugh as he shoved his face into James’ shoulder, tears of his own falling down his cheeks as James wrapped one of his arms around his boyfriend and pulled him closer. 

“Dovey.” Remus hissed as he took your face in his hands. “Is…is this real? Is- are you really pregnant?” 

You nodded as you swallowed before finally finding your voice. “I…I think so. It looks like it.”

James let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob as he rubbed Sirius’ back roughly. 

Remus laughed wetly and pressed more than a few kisses to your face.

“Oh my god.” Sirius laughed as he wiped tears away from his face. “I’m sorry they didn’t believe you, babe. That- oh my god.” He said as he pulled you from Remus’ grasp and into his. “You’re fucking phenomenal.” 

“I haven’t even done anything yet.” You laughed into his shoulder as you watched Remus and James share a kiss behind him. 

“Are you kidding? Fuck, oh my god… I can’t believe this.” He whispered as he pulled away from you, only far enough that he could place his hands on your waist and look at your not at all rounded belly. 

“We almost missed hearing the best news of our lives over a remote.” James laughed from where he was tucked into Remus’ side.

“It’s on top of the refrigerator.” You sniffled. 

“You bastards.” Remus groaned before he and James yanked you and Sirius over to join their hug. 

“Wait.” James paused as he lifted his head to level you and Sirius with a look. “The remote was the prank, right? Not this?”

“Not this, Jamie.” You agreed quickly. “Not this.” 

He let out a relieved sigh and looked close to tears again. “You just wait until we get you back.” 

“No, you can’t prank me anymore; I’m pregnant and sensitive.” You whined, causing Sirius to bark a laugh, James to huff, and Remus to snort.

“Alright…” Remus offered as he narrowed his eyes at you playfully. “You’ve won this round.” 

“I think we might have to call it a tie, Moons.” James whispered as you felt a loving hand settle on your stomach.

[prinzrupprecht]

Hello, I would like an order for Ror Yandere Hades, Poseidon, Loki and Apollo with Anubis female version with the personality of Helaena Targaryen and being super overprotected because she gets lost and is autistic with ADHD, please.

Yes, this request is interesting since Halaena Targargyn’s is one of my favs from HoTD, so I’ll try to make a good interpretation on these characters. I prob fucked up Poseidon… sorry. :(

Loki

This man would not let you out of his sight, he knows how naive you are.

When you do accidentally find his secret room and a doll that looks like you. Your mind couldn’t handle the thought of why he had that and as you tried to panic and leave, he even stopped you and refused you from leaving his palace.

He normally would shape shift into cats or other animals to stalk you whenever you’re reading or wandering around.

If someone tried to take your attention from him, even to ask you for your assistance in something, he would rudely dismiss them while you stand there puzzled and confused.

As you struggle with social interactions and being near others, Loki would always be the one to speak for you even if he says out of line phrases that you would never say.

You also have a huge habit of watching bugs in the garden and sometimes would accidentally wander too far in Odin’s garden before Loki could find you and bring you back. You had always wondered how he always finds you. Maybe he was nearby?

Apollo

Apollo normally appears as an extremely narcissistic individual who never was loyal to any of his lovers, until he first laid his eyes upon you as the goddess of funerals and burials. He had to nearly beg you to get to know him, even if you preferred to be alone and to be withdrawn from everyone.

Whenever others don’t fit his standards of beauty, he looks down on them even if you’re standing beside him as he berates some of the maids and or servants in the Olympus palace.

He would always act dramatic and rant to you about his long day arguing with his servants if they don’t do things his way, Apollo gets agitated. You tend to always listen and speak if you’re asked to.

Whenever he goes to have his baths, he always puts pressure on you to join him. You felt like you had no say in the matter and agreed to these occasional baths with him.

Whenever you tried to wander the palace alone, Apollo would scold you about leaving without telling him because of how easy it was to get lost in the palace. You could go days without seeing a single person sometimes. Apollo always told you to tell him if you were going somewhere so he would be the one to accompany you. This was something that made you weirded out at first but you never questioned him.

You preferred being in solitude without Apollo rambling nonsense about his day. He was too attached to your company to let you out of his sight. If he wants a bath, you’d have to join him. It was nearly impossible to get away from him at times. He even dropped the harem of girls because he was obsessed with you.

When Adamas tried to hurt you one evening while you got lost in the wrong wing of the palace, you had thought you were alone since you left Apollo’s room without telling him. However, Apollo was already quick to tell Adamas to leave and that he was sorry for disturbing him. Apollo wasn’t mad, but he doesn’t like the thought of someone trying to hurt you and he’s not there to protect you.

Hades

The King of the Netherworld wasn’t one to find a soulmate considering he was too busy ruling Helheim, until he saw you one day in the garden of Eve with Lucifer, Azazel and Samuel stealing apples which was forbidden, however, he didn’t care about that. He rarely goes to that place but something about you intrigued him and lured him. You? An Egyptian goddess of funerals hanging out with them? He wanted to scoff knowing you could do better, with someone like him.

He knew of you, but you rarely appeared during council meetings because of how sensitive the topics were. You didn’t like the thought of destroying entire species. You took care of the dead your own way.

You mostly kept to yourself and found the littlest things more amusing to you like ants on the ground. Hades had wondered why he watched you for so long.

The moment he finally caught your attention, you looked dumbfounded at his presence while the three angles were kneeling. You were socially distant from your interaction with the Netherworld king many times before. However, he quickly declared that you walk with him in Helheim.

As reluctant as you were, Hades saw how nervous and fidgety you were around him due to his status as a chief god. He quickly asked if you’d stay with him in his empty palace and promised you his protection. You quickly thought of saying no to that suggestion, however, how could you decline that? You had your own routine and duties as the goddess of funerals. Hades promised you’d continue your usual activities only if you’d accompany him whenever he wanted. Helheim was a dangerous place where demons dwell and he would kill any demon that tries to harm you.

Whenever, you tried to travel around his castle alone or the number of times you got lost finding your away around, Hades would quickly find you and tell you to stay with him in his room instead. He even offered his entire library to you if you wanted to read. Even if you’d rather be alone, his presence was enough to make you obey him.

Poseidon

This man rarely talks, and mostly glares at others. His cold exterior told you otherwise to just avoid him and to never interact with him. However, as you thought he had no emotions, you were completely wrong by this. He loves his brothers and even shows you respect by not calling you a bottom feeder like he does with other gods.

He saw how Zeus was being a pervert and was spying on you in the baths and scolded him which nearly pissed off the ocean tyrant because of his younger brother’s unpleasant nature of being a pervert.

You were just an outside guest of the Egyptian pantheon and were asked personally by Poseidon to accompany him in his hall. Which was a long table and he sat at one end. He questioned you, your intentions, why you were even at the Olympus palace and other things. You were incredibly nervous and thought you were going to die. He tried walking towards you as you were squeezing your eyes shut while fidgeting with your fingers.

You were something that interested you but he couldn’t put forth as to why. Was it your personality? Or how much you prefer to be alone like him? When Adamas tried to harm you, things didn’t end well for him. Let’s say he tried to attack Poseidon the same day as well nearly killing him.

He didn’t like how much you’d rather leave when you tried to dismiss yourself. He refused to let you leave and told you to stay with him for just a bit longer. This was the longest you ever heard him speak. He was definitely more quiet when he’s with his brothers.

Even as nervous as you seem to be, you were easy to obey him.

[sunflowersinthedirt]

NOW AND THEN | GEORGE HARRISON 🌻

You love sunflowers and George miss you.

Angst (i’m a sad person), mentions of grief, angry issues. May have some sensitive topics to some readers.

English is not my first language and gifs are not mine.

1995: Summer.

Ringo and Paul were playing their ukuleles and conversing in the company of their respective wives. They were almost oblivious to George's presence in that vast garden. Today was a delicate day; they were finalizing the recordings for the Anthology documentary, and talking so much about John left Geo with a bittersweet (or rather, sour) taste in his mouth.

George was one of the few who didn't get to make amends with John before he passed away, and today, despite the sunny atmosphere, George was gloomy and quieter than usual. He was feeling nostalgic. He had remembered things that made him happy but at the same time, saddened him.

It was when he thought of you, looking at the sunflower garden he had planted, that the memories came flooding back. George walked over there, struggling against the feeling of sadness that seemed to take over and fill his chest. He had no idea he was being watched by Olivia and Dhani, who knew about his devotion to those flowers more than anyone. What they didn't know was the reason Geo loved sunflowers so much.

1967:

— Look, me nails and clothes are full of dirt! — Said the girl, laughing and showing her hands. — Only you'd be able to see me all dirty like this.

George laughed.

— I'm worse than you. — He said, getting up from the flowerbed and helping her up. He clapped his legs to get the excess dirt off his hands and clothes, making himself even dirtier. — And you're the prettiest girl covered in dirt I've ever seen. — He confessed, with a cheeky smile.

The girl shook her head.

— Please, love... — She laughed. — You're bein' too nice to me.

He took her in his arms. Neither of them caring that they were dirty with soil in the middle of that garden.

— You know you're gorgeous no matter what. — he said, kissin' her lips. — Thank you for helpin' me take care of this garden. And thank you for lookin' after it when I'm not around.

She smiled and felt her face warm with all the adoration and courtship from the dark-haired man.

— You know I love this garden. Takin' care of it is a way for me to ease the missin' I feel for you when you're gone. — She confessed, George's eyes staring into yours like he wanted to capture every detail of you at all once. You were, without a shadow of a doubt, the most beautiful woman George had ever seen.

You were beautiful because you were you. In your simplicity, in your little mannerisms, in the way you walked... George loved everything about you and wished he could keep you like a porcelain doll so nothin' would ever harm you.

— And I took the liberty of plantin' some sunflowers here. Don't get me wrong, I love orchids, but sunflowers will always be my favorites. — She commented. The warm wind blowing through her long hair made George pull a few strands away from her face.

— They're lovely, darling. I loved them. They made the garden more colorful. — He said. The girl smiled.

— Sunflowers are happy flowers to me. I love them. — She confessed, looking at the flowerbed. She was proud of her work. — And if I ever die, I want you to bring me sunflowers every year. Wherever I am, I'll be happy...

George's smile faded at his beloved's request. It was sudden, a happy moment turned into a melancholy mess in an instant. She was like that: very honest. Not that George wasn't aware that people could die, after all, he had already lost someone that year: his manager, Brian. He and the rest of the band were still stunned by the untimely death of someone as passionate about life as Brian.

— Y/N... — He took a deep breath, stepping away from her touch. He was tough enough not to want to cry in front of her. He didn't like thinking about the possibility of losing her one day. He'd rather go first than see the woman he loved leave forever. — I-I... I think that's a rather morbid wish, don't you think?

The girl shook her head.

— I think it's the sentence we all carry — She concluded. — I'm sorry if I touched on a sensitive subject for you.

— It's alright. — It wasn't. — We need to take a bath and get all this dirt off us.

He changed the subject and took her by the hands so quickly into the house that she didn't have time to breathe and tell him what had been bothering her. Not that she wanted to tell him, knowing that George would do everything he could to take that away from her and that would cost him a lot.

Four months later:

She was sick and no one knew except John, her best friend. When George received that phone call at the studio, something inside him knew it wasn't good news. Although the news hit him like a speeding car, he couldn't feel anything about the fact that you had told John and not him that you were in the terminal phase. The electric guitar fell from his hands, making a loud noise that pierced the acoustic walls of the studio. He wanted it all to be just a nightmare.

He blamed himself a lot. It was obvious that her thinness wasn't normal, but he was so busy with the recordings of the White album that he was living on autopilot. He fought with John. He wanted to punch John.

He wanted to hold back his tears, he didn't want to yell at one of his best friends... But John knew George had been holding back his tears since Brian's death. It was George who held down the fort with the media when Brian died because John couldn't speak.

And losing you was unbearable... And when he remembered that you had asked him to bring you sunflowers, he wanted to tear out every single flower from that garden and set it on fire.

For the first time, gardening had become a distaste for him. Geo was immensely devastated. He swallowed his pride, made peace with John, and asked his friend to accompany him on your wake. George wanted to fulfill your last request despite all the anger and sadness bottled up in his chest about those "damned flowers."

And so, every year... He brought you sunflowers. He would plant a flowerbed on your grave if it would bring you back.

Present: 1995, Summer.

George sighed. His chest seemed full of that anguish from the past, and to remember you and John now with a bitter taste in his mouth was devastating. He put on a brave face. Mentally, he made a small prayer that your spirits could find the peace you so sought in life. George had married someone he liked, had a beautiful family, but you never left Geo's heart and Friar Park. There was a part of you there, and it was those vibrant yellow flowers.

— Sunflowers are happy flowers to me. I love them.— He remembered what you had said. He no longer hated them because they were a sweet reminder of you. It was the color that was missing from his life, and in a way, it was there, almost spiritually cheering him up.

George wiped away the tears with the sleeve of his jacket, which by this point had already flooded his eyes, making his vision blurry.

— I will always love you. — He said to himself, hoping that you, Brian, and John could hear him wherever you were.

[vypridae]

Implications to a bit of a sensitive topic

So Velvette is a doll demon, I'm pretty sure. At least that's what she originally was and I'm going to stick with it.

Anyway, I feel like she definitely had it rough when she was alive. This led to unhealthy coping mechanisms that left her with scars, said scars followed her in the afterlife, and took form as sort of cracks on specific parts of her body because she's a doll

Getting to the Velmilla/Brokerdoll part now. I feel like she hates it, which is why she's so particular with clothes and always makes them herself. Carmilla is the only one who has ever actually seen the marks/cracks and much to Velvette's surprise, Carmilla didn't have a big reaction or anything. She was just soft, probably whispered sweet things, and kissed or ran her hands along the marks as a soothing gesture (with Velvette's consent, of course)

OOGOUGGUHHH WAIT YES YES YES YES YES . YESSSS !!!! THIS THIS THIS THIS !!! CARMILLA UNDERSTANDS AND SHE TRIES TO BE SWEET AND RESPECTFUL ABOUT IT BECAUSE SHE KNOWS ITS PROBABLY A REALLY TOUCHY TOPIC FOR VELVETTE . OOGUOOUUHG ANON I THINK UR A GENIUS

[cowgurrrl]

Lavender Girl

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: A field trip [4.7k]

Warnings: financial stress, school fight, June once again introduces an ex, having a muse is creepy and weird, flirting that’s not flirting but it’s not not flirting, June putting her art history knowledge to work

Most days, you're a good teacher. A teacher that students want to eat lunch with or inadvertently include in their silly TikToks. Most days, you're patient and kind and only have to raise your voice a handful of times, if only to be heard over the blanket volume level of teenage conversation. Today is not one of those days. "Guys!" You yell, pausing the music on your computer and turning to look at your class, obviously annoyed. "We're supposed to be talking about Picasso. I don't know why I'm hearing so much conversation about lunch." It's a lie. There was a fight between two students at lunch. It'd also been the topic of conversation in the teacher's lounge, but still.

"Miss, we already talked about Picasso!" One of your kids bemoans, and you raise your eyebrows at them. 

"So, if I asked you right now, you could tell me what historical event his painting Guernica is supposed to depict?" You ask. The entire class goes silent as you wait for a response that never comes, and you sigh. "Please, do your work."

The day started with getting yet another email from another gallery, this time from down south, telling you they loved your work but not enough to showcase or buy it. Then, a text from your manager letting you know that paychecks will be late because of technical issues with the system, even though you're already beyond broke. Then, a sad text from Andie about how she's feeling homesick and misses you and wishes you could get on a plane to come see her. Then, to top it all off, an email from your ex, Henry, popped up the second you pulled into the school. 

Hey, long time, no talk! I hope you're doing well. I wanted to reach out and let you know I've got an exhibition going up later next week and wanted to invite you to the opening. It's about-

You didn't read any further, anger and a wave of past emotions drowning you before you could. You and Henry were together all throughout college. You met during a freshman art class and were inseparable after that. He was tall, sensitive, and had a penchant for listening to country music when he worked, leading to many delirious nights spent crooning to Emmy-Lou Harris together. He surprised you with new paint and spontaneous trips to scenic parts of Texas to fuel your inspiration. You were happy for a long time. You even thought you'd marry him at one point. He wanted to be the next young, groundbreaking artist, making you his muse, no matter how many times you tried to assure him you were also an artist. Your work would go up in galleries and exhibitions, and everyone in your small program would gossip about the two of you. "He's so talented. It's insane," you heard one of your classmates say once. "And she's so beautiful." 

The compliment dug under your skin and stayed there as your relationship failed. You didn't want to be a muse anymore. You stopped letting him paint you in various states of undress and started asking for more alone time to work on your own stuff. You went from being the perfect, polished doll he could position however he wanted and started living in your paint-stained jeans and old, ratty shirt. You started arguing more and more, first about little things like why he left his paint water cups everywhere, and then about big things like your decision to pursue teaching and the "inspiration" he found in an impressionable freshman. He suddenly moved out after graduation without a word, leaving you to nurse your wounds in a half-empty apartment for the rest of your lease, and you hadn't heard from him until this morning. 

There's something more than the sting of hearing from him all these years later that bothers you. You're a high school art teacher struggling to make ends meet, and he's doing exactly what he set out to do. He's getting his work in front of his eyes and receiving praise for it. "Why do you wanna be a teacher when you can just be an artist?" He asked you one morning as you studied for your certification exams. "Or, at least, an artist's wife." 

"And what if I'm not good at that?" You asked. "Then what? I'm just supposed to be your muse for the rest of my life? Have kids to fuel someone else's inspiration and have no time for my own work? Wither away while you go on to make art and give talks and become a cynic? Fuck that." 

You stand by what you said, even all these years later, but there is an irony in that, even as a teacher, you don't have time to do your own work. Still, fuck that. The bell rings and signals the end of another class, and you quickly stand as students start packing up their stuff. "Okay, guys. Remember, your art history essay is due in two weeks! I'm excited to read all about everything you've learned since we started this unit. I love you, and please make good choices." You announce, hoping that at least some of them are listening to you, as they spill out of the classroom and the next students stream in. Ellie's sweet face is a welcome reprieve when she walks in. 

"Hey Bellie! How's your day going, kiddo?" You ask, and she smiles. You'll swear up and down all day that you don't have favorite students, but if you did, Ellie would be one of them. 

"Good. I have my signed permission slip for the art club field trip." She says. After your experience with Joel outside the bar, you couldn't sleep and knocked out all the field trip paperwork before falling asleep on your couch. But you weren't safe from his lips and broad shoulders, even in your subconscious. 

"Oh, my hero! I've been meaning to remind everyone about those. Thanks for getting that in so quickly." You say as she hands the paper to you, Joel's scribbly signature at the bottom. Somehow, you're not surprised that the box indicating he wants to be a chaperone is ticked. "Perfect. Your dad knows when the field trip is?" 

"Yeah. He wrote it down on his calendar and everything." She says, rolling her eyes fondly, and you laugh.

"Well, good, because I'm gonna need all the help I can get when I'm dealing with you guys."

"Hey!" She feigns offense as the bell rings, signaling the end of the passing period, and the last of your students comes running in. Ellie takes her seat near the front, and you grab your silly, colorful pointer to talk about Guernica, which is still proudly displayed on the board. After a quick art history lesson, you release them to work on the projects they've been working on for a week now. They still have a few more days before it's due, so more than half of them are slacking off quietly, which you're fine with. As long as you get a finished assignment at the end, they can do whatever they want.

You play quiet music as they work to help them focus and answer some emails. One email that catches your attention is from the parent of one of your students, Dalton, who's an amazing football player but is less than passionate about art, to say the least. You emailed his dad to let him know he was missing some assignments and could still turn them in late for only a slight penalty, but if he turns in nothing at all, you'll have no choice but to fail him. You also CC'd the football coach so he'd know the academic standing of one of his star players. Needless to say, you've been subject to a few not-so-nice emails from all parties involved. 

Once you're done firing off another round of emails, you decide to step away from your computer so you don't have to see the next reply until absolutely necessary. Walking around the room to answer questions, give opinions, or just hear what's happening in students' lives always makes you feel better. In one period, you helped a handful of students put the finishing touches on their projects, heard the latest gossip, and talked one of your girls out of sending a nasty text to the boy who just broke her heart. And they say teachers aren't important. 

The second you get a little bit of peace during your planning period, your phone buzzes with a notification. Given all the notifications and messages you've received today, you're hesitant to even pull it out of your pocket. But curiosity wins, and you open your phone to find a text from an unsaved number.

Is there anything I should bring to the field trip? Snacks, gum, alcohol?

You laugh to yourself and start typing a message back. 

Alcohol won't be necessary, but it might be good to bring some lunch and a few snacks. I think we're gonna try to have a picnic or something at the museum. 

Yes, ma'am.

You still feeling up to chaperone? Teenagers are no joke.

Do I need to remind you that I've raised two? I think I can handle a few more.

Oh, I can't wait to see this.

It can't be that hard, right?

On the day of the field trip, it turns out to be that hard. The only adults accompanying twenty teenagers to the museum are you and Joel. They're excited to be out of school and doing something new, but you can feel your migraine starting before you even get on the bus. Thankfully, the ride to the museum (and the traffic) calms them down, and they're more manageable by the time you arrive. A curator meets you outside the front doors and begins by walking your group through the outdoor sculptures, giving a little bit of history of the museum and the pieces themselves. The kids ask insightful questions and take turns snapping photos or even sketching a rough outline of the piece before moving on to the next. You stay at the front of the group while Joel manages the middle and back, silencing kids with a stern look. You fight a smile when you catch him and Ellie lingering at a sculpture, whispering to each other before he urges her forward and takes a sweet picture of her smiling in front of it. 

After the initial walk of the grounds, you stop to have lunch in a sunny garden and listen to the kids gush about their favorite part so far and what paintings they're most excited to see inside. 

"Miss, what's your favorite thing here?" Kayla asks.

"I like Dream Village by Chagall. If you find it before me, you'll have to let me know." You say. "Do you have a favorite?"

"Not yet. Maybe I'll find it today." Kayla says.

"I like that attitude!"

"Kissass." Jacob coughs, and you both give him a look. You can feel Joel's eyes burning a hole in the back of your head as you stare at Jacob.

"What's my policy?" 

"Are you really gonna make me say it?"

"Yep." You say, and he sighs.

"You can be anything you want to be, but you're not allowed to be a dick." He mumbles.

"Exactly. So, please, be nice," you say as you fish around in your lunch box for something. "Here, have a cookie. It might help make you feel a little better." He mutters a little thanks and unwraps it, already in a better mood after one bite, and you smile. 

"You just carry around cookies, waiting for a kid to be in a bad mood?" Joel asks, and you turn to look at him. He's wearing a plain blue t-shirt and jeans with sunglasses sitting atop his head, but you think it might be your favorite thing he's worn in your presence. You like it when he wears color.

"It was my cookie, but he needs it more than I do," you shrug. "Besides, things like that are a great morale booster. It's hard to be grumpy when you've got something sweet." 

"I'm inclined to agree with you." He quips a little too smoothly, his eyes flicking across your face and down to your lips, and you feel your cheeks getting hot. Thankfully, all the kids have returned to their own conversations and couldn't care less about what the Adults are talking about. 

"You're relentless." You whisper.

"Do you want me to stop?" He whispers back, and you sigh. If you were a stronger or better person, you might be able to think fast enough to come up with a response, but you're not. So, you just look at him and rack your brain for something to say but come up empty. "That's what I thought." He smiles and offers you his sweating Dr. Pepper can as a peace offering. You roll your eyes at his smug look but take a sip anyway. 

Once everyone is done eating, you all stand and make your way into the museum lobby, the kids already chattering about what they want to see. 

"Okay, you guys are free to roam but please, please, please remember that you're representing not only the school but also me. Be respectful and kind, and please don't act like you've never been in public before, okay? Go, be free." You say before the kids split off into their little groups with their obligatory activity in hand. Ellie stays near Joel, only a little shy, until Kayla turns around suddenly and waves her on.

"Ellie, c'mon!" She says. Ellie takes a few steps in her direction before turning to look back at Joel.

"Go. I'll be okay." He says.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Now go. Have fun." She doesn't need any more encouragement after that and skitters off with the rest of the kids, leaving you and Joel alone in the atrium. 

"She's doing really well." You tell him even though he can clearly see for himself. 

"Thanks to you." 

"All I did was give her a push."

"Take the credit. You deserve it." He says, his lips pulling into that award-winning smile. 

You fall into silence as you walk through the different galleries, Joel never too far behind you. Sometimes, he'll start at the opposite end of the room and work his way down until you meet in the middle, making a deliberate effort to bump your shoulder or hand as he passes. Other times, he'll stay right next to you, and, for some reason, it doesn't bother you. You like being so close to him and feeling his eyes work over the piece like it's a puzzle he doesn't quite know how to work. When he can't stand the quiet anymore, he'll whisper a question to you about the artist or the history, his breathing fanning out across your neck and making the hair there stand on end. 

After moving through a big part of the museum together, you and Joel end up at the same painting as the dull hum of voices fills the space between you. You smile to yourself, practically hearing him trying to find something to say as he stands there and observes how the lines of bright colors follow each other. Some are stark and almost resemble lightning in how they move around the canvas, but others are muted, blended together with careful precision and patience. It's hard to imagine what West Texas could've been like in 1953, but this makes it a little easier.

"What's this one supposed to mean?" Joel mumbles, leaning ever so conspicuously into you. 

"I can't tell you." You mumble back, and he finally turns to look at you head-on. You meet his eyes with an amused smile, and he shakes his head at you.

"You're really not gonna tell me?"

"I can't tell you what art is supposed to mean to you. I can't tell anyone that." 

"But, you're a teacher."

"If you're asking me for an art history lesson, I'd be happy to help, but that's about all I can do for you."

"'S cruel and unusual punishment."

"If art and culture are cruel and unusual punishment, why'd you sign up to chaperone?"

"Maybe I wanted to see my friend," he says, bumping you with his shoulder, and you laugh a little too hard. "What? We can't be friends? Is there a school policy against that, too?" 

"Nope, no school policy. I just," You pause and revel in how enraptured he looks at every movement, pause, and breath you take. "I already have friends, so..."

"Oh, and you're 'fraid of bein' too popular?"

"Famously." You say, and he chuckles next to you. You go back to staring at the painting quietly with him so close you can feel his body heat. You're the one to break this time, knocking him with your shoulder to get his attention again. You didn't need to. When you glance at him, you see his focus is on you, not the painting. "It's Texas. Canyon, to be more precise. Up by Amarillo where there's nothing but cattle and desert. O'Keeffe taught out there for a few years and wanted to paint something that showed how big the West is. It's supposed to make you feel like you're two feet tall and seeing the sky for the first time. For her, it might've been the first time in a long time she'd gotten to see a sunset that big. So, she painted it so other people could enjoy sunsets like that. It's like a love letter." 

"How d'you do that?" He asks once you're finished explaining, and you furrow your eyebrows. 

"Do what?" 

"Make little things seem so beautiful." He answers easily, like you asked him what color the sky is. You don't know what to say. What are you supposed to say to something like that?

"'S just what art does." You shrug and break away from his gaze to look at the painting, if only to not feel him staring into your soul.

"No, it's what you do to it. 'S why those kids love you so damn much. You make everythin' feel like a masterpiece, even the little things." He's not flirting. He's not trying to persuade you to do one thing over another. He's genuine and heartfelt. You swear you would start crying if you had a little less sleep. You take a deep breath and lean into him for half a second, just enough to feel his body against yours, before standing upright again.

"Thank you." 

"It's what friends are for," he says, leaning into you in return. "I should make sure they haven't seized the museum or anythin'."

"Oh, I can do it. You're a guest."

"And you work too hard," he stops you. "Take a break and enjoy what you love. The world won't end if you take some time for yourself." If ever there were awards to be given out for sweet talking, you think Joel Miller would win all of them. 

"Okay," you say, and he walks behind you to move on to the next section. "You really wanna be my friend?" You ask before he can fully pass behind you, looking at him over your shoulder. He smiles devastatingly, light sparkling in his eyes, and nods.

"I really wanna be your friend." He says softly, his voice low and rumbling in his chest. He lingers for a second or two before finally making his way to the group of students, leaving you to scrutinize the painting you've been staring at for God knows how long.

The day crawls to an uneventful close, with you forcing all the students to take a picture in front of the museum for the yearbook. Joel takes your phone out of your hand and all but pushes you in the photo, and your students lovingly welcome you into their little group. In exchange, you grab Joel's phone and take cute pictures of him and Ellie for their own memories. They smile almost identically, and Ellie makes a fake annoyed face when Joel kisses her temple. Your fingers brush against each other when you hand it back, and for a second, you can feel the callouses from his job. It feels like unlocking a new piece of him or a new quirk. 

Too bad this isn't a date. Too bad nothing can ever come of this. Too bad you had to meet this way. Too bad. Too bad. 

The ride home is quiet and full of the clinking of backpacks and new souvenirs. When you get to the school, parents are waiting in the parking lot with fast food dinners and excited ears to hear all about their days. Almost everyone immediately slinks home, tired and happy, before you can even get close to the school doors. Almost everyone. Joel and Ellie help you carry your backpack and some things you bought for teaching purposes at the museum into your classroom. The school is virtually deserted, and you return to your room to find all the lamps flipped off and mostly positive notes from the sub. 

"Dad, what are we gonna do for dinner?" Ellie groans as you sit in your chair and open your email quickly before you can pack up the rest of your stuff. Their dinner debate becomes background noise as you find your inbox full of annoyed messages from Dalton's parents, coaches, and even Principal Martinez regarding his grades. Under all that vitriol sits Henry's half-read message about his gallery opening, and you feel the perfect bubble of your day burst around you. Joel and Ellie seem to realize it because they're both quiet when you tune back into their conversation, and you turn in your chair to look at them. 

"Are you okay?" Ellie asks, and you snap out of it, putting on your best teacher everything-is-fine face.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just some emails. It's not important." You wave her off, but Joel isn't so easily convinced. He thinks for a second before pulling his keys out of his pocket and handing them to Ellie. 

"Go get some practice driving." He says, jerking his head toward the door, and Ellie's eyes light up.

"Really?!"

"Just bring the car to the front, and don't hit anything!" He says, but she's already taken off with the keys and her stuff in an excited whirlwind. You laugh at her enthusiasm, and Joel leans against one of the desks near you, crossing his arms in front of him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." 

"Your whole face fell when you opened that computer." 

"It's nothing." 

"If we're gonna be friends, you're gonna have to tell me if somethin's wrong otherwise I can't help you." He says, and you fight a smile. 

"I don't know how you're gonna help me with this one." You say. He bumps your foot with his and gives you a pleading look. Big brown eyes on men like him should be illegal, you think.

"Talk to me." He begs quietly, and you take a deep breath.

"When I was in college, I dated this guy. He was an artist, too, and we were like the little power couple of our program. Things ended kinda badly and abruptly, and I hadn't heard from him since graduation until last week when he invited me to his gallery opening. I really don't want to go alone because, honestly, I haven't been able to get anything showcased in years, and I'm embarrassed. Plus, he broke my heart and made me feel like shit for a few years." You can't stop the words from falling from you once the dam is broken, but Joel doesn't flinch.

"Well, you've got friends to go with, right?"

"I do," you say. "But I want to invite you."

"Oh." He says, seemingly unintentionally.

"Oh." You repeat. "You can say no. I just thought... since we're friends and all now."

"I just... I don't..." he struggles before finally giving in to what he wants to say, what you think he's wanted to say all day. "I don't think I'm smart enough to go to somethin' like that. I don't know anythin' about art. I don't even know how to dress for those kinda things."

"Nobody knows anything about art. Not really, at least. Especially not Henry."

"You do."

"Then I'll stick with you all night and feed you lines about composition or some shit," you say. "And you just wear a nice shirt and some slacks. Maybe a suit jacket if you're feeling snazzy. It's really not as big a deal as people make it seem. We'll go, drink wine, say something about the colors, play nice, and then we'll leave. I'll have you home by 9:30. Earlier if you really hate it that much." He rolls his neck like he's rattling something around in his head or thinking about your offer, and all you can do is watch him and the way his Adam's apple pressing against the delicate skin of his throat. You're convinced he's gonna say no.

"Are you asking me on a date?" He finally asks, and you laugh.

"Not a date."

"Sounds like a date. You even promised to have me home to my girl at a reasonable time."

"Fine, it's a friend date."

"A friend date?" He raises his eyebrows at you, and you nod. 

"It's perfectly normal to go on friend dates, Miller. You're just behind on the times."

"Seems like I am. Maybe you can bring me up to speed during the gallery opening?" He says, and your shoulders drop in relief. "I'll pick you up if you agree to help me not look like an idiot."

"You won't look like an idiot." 

"Not with you there, I won't." He says, and you want to laugh, but you also want to tear up a little at his kindness. It's been a long week. 

"Thank you, Joel. Really. I owe you." You say, and he nods. 

"'S my pleasure," he says. For a minute, you two just stare at each other in your empty classroom like teenagers with an obvious crush. You think that's what you feel like. You think that's all you'll ever be able to feel for him. "I should go. I've got an impatient teenager waitin' for me." 

"Yeah. Go get her some dinner, and I'll text you the details." You say as you stand to walk him out. He stands to his full height, opens his arms, and approaches you. You didn't think you were hugging territory, but as his arms wrapped around you, you couldn't help but hug him back.  

"Goodnight." He says into your hair, lingering for another moment before disappearing as fast as he appeared. 

"Goodnight," you say. With that, he starts walking to the open door with a smile stuck to his face. "Hey, Joel," you call before he can step over the threshold, and he turns around to look at you. "Art is for everyone, and even if it wasn't, you're more than smart enough to enjoy it."

"Yes, ma'am." He says with a half-salute and a wink before stepping out of your classroom. You let yourself rest against your desk and take a deep breath. Finally, you let yourself pull out your phone and read the rest of Henry's email detailing the time and place of the gallery. 

I hope you can come. It would really mean a lot to me. I miss talking to you and even though things ended the way they did, I still love you.

See you soon,

Henry Hall

"Fuck that."

TAGLISR: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk

[miracles-and-butterflies]

The sixth part of Ride the Cyclone AU.

This will make up for all the missing angst in the last chapter. Probably.

The previous part if you need a recap.

Comments are always appreciated.

Warning, sensitive topics ahead, especially character death.

Nombre Desconocida

Another awkward silence filtered through the space. Unlike previously Camilo didn’t shrink in on himself the way Isabela had, if anything he took the fact he had left everyone speechless in his stride. As his sister and cousins around him slowly gained their autonomy again, they pulled off their cat ears and glanced in confusion at the matching tails.

“When you said marrying a prince, this wasn’t what I had in mind.” Luisa admitted.

“Hell yeah, this was way better!” Isabela echoes, she threw an arm around Luisa and Camilo. “I thought I was gonna have to handle the flowers for some stuffy fake-wedding. Getting to be a villain and ruining lives? Life goals. So, thank you. You are weirdly awesome in the afterlife, Milo.”

Camilo shrugged, “I’m the same person I always was. It’s just nobody really listened to me when I was myself.”

“Well, we’re listening to you now, space Jesus.” Isabela ruffled his hair playfully.

“¡Ay!” He batted Isabela’s hand away, trying to hug his two cousins properly. “I guess the real tragedy is that we couldn’t all be in a drama group together. We would have been amazing.”

“We could always do it now. Just mess around in the corner?” Isabela suggested. “I mean, it’s not like any of us are actually care about this competition besides Dolores. I say we just rebel against the weird old man and do whatever the fuck we want!”

They cheered, laughing at the idea. Which was actually a very good one to say out loud, if only for the look of horror on Dolores’ face.

Luisa wheezed, beaming brightly, looking and feeling better than she thinks she ever had in life. Not even a single concern over work or expectations. She was finally at peace. “I’m so happy right now, I could never come down!” She gushed.

“My turn!”

As if on cue, they all turned, jumping out of their skin and their already dead hearts stopping, to where Desconocida had appeared directly behind Luisa, out of her cat costume and carrying that same headless doll again.

“Aww, man,” Luisa groaned, regrettably.

They left the stage, slowly, watching as the corpse stiffly made her way over to the suited man. In horror. Unable to look away.

“Desconocida,” the man introduced. “The one unidentified body of the Cyclone rollercoaster disaster.”

The girl in question glanced at him momentarily before reaching for the door. Unlike the others, it did not glow and show her magical engraving, for she was not a Madrigal. That was expected. What was surprising was the lack of photos that filled the room. The walls remained bare and empty, no sign of memories of life. She stared, perplexed why it did not work.

She cocked her head at the man, who too had gone quiet in favour of just watching her. She went to try the doorknob again. This time, she awkwardly brushed her hand across her ruined clothes, wiping away some imaginary dirt, before reaching for it. As if that might have been the issue. But again, as she turned to look about the room, there was nothing. No photos, no reenactment of her life from the other contestants, nothing to symbolise any identity or life she might have had.

Without any comment or reaction, she stepped aside solemnly, letting go of the door.

The man continued, “Everyone knew everyone in Encanto, but no one could recall this member of the community. There were rumours of a girl who joined the queue at the last minute, but as the employee (running the Cyclone) died of a heart attack shortly after the accident, there was no one to verify. Some say she was never part of the town at all. I sadly cannot tell you. All one knows for certain is that a body was found below the tracks of the Cyclone without a head. So… a mystery.”

~~~~~

14th September 1951, three hours before the Cyclone accident

“Roll up, roll up! Come one, come all! Step up and test your strength! Only the strongest here today will win one of our fabulous prizes!” A male voice bellowed loudly through the fairground.

Dolores caught Isabela’s sleeve immediately as she turned her head towards the sound. “No. You already wrecked that duck mini-game because it was, and I quote, ‘rigged’, I’m not letting you destroy another. Let’s go find those shooting games. You can be violent all you want there.”

“But I can be violent here!” Isabela whined. “Come on, Lola, I can win this one. Easy!”

“No, you can’t. You are getting overly competitive and cocky now. Keep walking.” She insisted.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Isabela got overly competitive and cocky twenty-two years ago, Dolores.” Luisa teased. She pulled away from the snack cart she had been eyeing up, following Isabela’s gaze. The same idea filling her head. Eyes lighting up eagerly, grinning like the devil.

Dolores let go of Isabela’s sleeve immediately, grabbing Luisa’s wrist with both hands firmly.

“No! If Isabela isn’t going over there, you certainly aren’t going over there!”

“Come on, prima. It’s literally my game. It’s literally called ‘The Strongest’! It’s like they’re begging me to play it.”

“Exactly! And it wouldn’t be fair for you to play with your gift! So you aren’t playing!”

“The people working here don’t know that.”

With ease, Luisa pulled her wrist free and followed Isabela through the mangle of people. Mirabel glanced at Dolores and Camilo before deciding to go after her sisters

Dolores groaned, almost growling in frustration, “I just wanted to see the music box. Was that so much to ask?” She muttered to herself, throwing her hands down to her sides.

“Hey, I thought you said we were gonna find a bathroom for me? I still need to go!” Camilo complained.

The test-your-strength game was a long red, wooden tower of sorts, full of whirling noises and flashing lights. At the bottom was a huge rubber pad. The player would strike it with a heavy mallet, the force would hit a little puck that would shoot up (and then fall down) the tower’s length based on how hard the person had hit. The tower was marked all the way up with various levels. The very top of the tower, the highest score, was emphasised with a bell that looked like it wasn’t being rang much, if at all.

Luisa thought for a moment. Then she nudged Mirabel. “You want to see something impressive? Something that will cheer you up?”

“Sure,” she said, “Though I don’t think there is anything here that will impress me.”

Her sister clicked her tongue. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

Meanwhile, Isabela watched a young man in front of her take his turn. He confidently grabbed the mallet from the kids who had gone before him and shot a confident look to the people behind him. He slid up beside Isabela, offering her a wink.

“This one’s for you, boñita,” he whispered.

Before going to take his swing, he took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Then he separated, puffed out his chest and raised his arms back, and swung the mallet forward. The little puck bounced up, hitting one of the levels around the middle of the tower before falling back down.

“Ah, better luck next time, my friend.” The employee offered, patting him on the back.

The man handed back the mallet and circled to leave the cue, not before pulling Isabela close to his side again.

“Stupid game is rigged. How about we got to something else and I can win a prize for you there, mi rosa?” He asked, smiling down at her.

“What?” Isabela questioned.

“Then what else would you be here for?” He scratched his head in confusion. “This game is too difficult for pretty women like yourself.” His eyes widened a little in realisation, looking a little more seductive. “You wouldn’t happen to have come over just to watch me, would you? I’m flattered.”

“I’m not here to watch, I’m here to win.” The woman hissed.

She pushed him aside, tossing her hair proudly. The employee, having not been paying attention what was happening, handed her the mallet without any ceremony and stepped aside to let her swing.

“Oh, here we go,” Luisa mumbled, pulling away from the conversation she was having with Mirabel. They too were unaware of what Isabela had been dealing with. “This’ll be good.”

Isabela slammed the mallet down loudly. The puck shot much faster than the previous attempt and Isabela flashed a smirk to the astounded man behind her. Only it faltered when she caught sight of the puck going back down again. It had only gotten a level or two higher than the previous one. The mallet dropped into the grass from Isabela’s hand with a thump.

“B-but… but I was…” she stuttered.

Luisa cleared her throat. She cracked her fingers carefully, pushing Isabela aside. “Excuse me, Bela. Let the professional show you how it’s done.”

She stepped forward, grinning, scooping the mallet off the ground and dusting off a few specs of dirt on it. After taking a dramatic breath, she shook herself, getting into an unnecessary stance and holding the mallet with both her hands. Mirabel saw Luisa’s muscles tense through her clothes and quickly shifted her hands over her ears. Isabela simply rolled her eyes at the show Luisa was making. Finally, Luisa brought the mallet down with all her might.

Vibrations came from the mallet hitting against the pad and spreading through the crowd, shaking the very ground and making teeth chatter. The little puck went wizzing straight to the top, hitting the bell and bursting clear off the top. Everyone watched as the spec disappeared high in the sky with no sign of coming back. The tower rung with the sound and lights of victory before it glitched, broken, and went silent.

Everyone nearby, minus Luisa, stood with their hands over their ears for a good twenty seconds as they waited for the noise to stop. Luisa stood, letting out a relaxed, satisfied sigh but didn’t say anything.

The crowd was quiet too. The employee’s mouth hung agape as he stared into the sky, one hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun as he looked up. Squinting, trying to see when or if the puck would reappear and fall back down. Slowly, they all turned to Luisa. Some children were crying, some were boldly insisting they could do that to their friends, most people were glaring - either form the disturbance/the upset of their children or the fact they were no longer getting a turn. All except Mirabel, who offered Luisa a round of applause once it was safe to stop covering her ears.

Luisa clicked her tongue, stepping back to Isabela and bending to her ear, “That’s how it’s done. I could give you a little sisterly advice on how to reach the top, seeing as you need a little help there—”

“Oh, fuck off!” Isabela snapped. “Stupid thing was rigged anyways! I could have won easily!”

She stormed off in a flurry of petals, already ranting under her breath, as she spotted Dolores hovering nearby but out of the queue. No doubt about to talk her ear off about how rigged this game was, just like the last one had been. And the one before that. And the one before that. And the one—

The other sister just laughed as Isabela disappeared and placed the mallet down on the pad for the next person - as though she hadn’t just broken the game.

“How was that, hermanita? Impressive enough for you?” Luisa asked, flexing a bicep.

“Oh, very,” Mirabel agreed. Looking up at her sister in awe. To be fair, Luisa had done what she promised. “It was the most impressive thing I have seen all day.”

“It’ll get better though. I mean, I do believe I get a prize now?”

“…Ah, um, yes… Right. Here are the prizes!” The employee shook himself and gestured to the set of prizes beside him. “Take your pick!”

Luisa tapped her chin in thought as she surveyed the table. Unlike some of the other games, the prizes here weren’t the same. Probably because the likelihood of a child winning this was slim to none, there was no need for little games or stuffed animals. Her previous prizes throughout the day had all been stuffed animals, most of which she dumped with Bruno thus far.

“That one,” she exclaimed, finally.

“Excellent choice!” The employee said. He slipped behind the table and picked off a doll from one of the back shelves, handing it to Luisa. “Thanks for, eh, playing. And breaking my machine?”

She tried to hold back a chuckle as she waved him off, “You’re welcome.”

With all said and done, she walked off with Mirabel following behind her, a little more than confused. The eyes and crowd slowly dispersing as Luisa found her way to a more empty part of the fairground - a relatively empty space of grass that was full of baby strollers and a few people sitting down to eat.

“Um, Luisa?” Mirabel called. “Where are we going? I saw Isabela and Dolores back the other way… Should we not stay together? It would be easy to lose someone here, the place is so—”

Luisa stopped in her tracks and turned. She held the doll down for Mirabel. The younger raised an eyebrow.

“Here,” Luisa said. “It’s for you.”

“But you won it.” Mirabel countered.

“Yes.”

“So it’s yours.”

“I’m giving it to you.”

“I didn’t win it, that wouldn’t be fair.”

“It’s a gift.”

“Then I don’t deserve it.”

Her sister handed her the doll anyways before settling down against a tree, pulling Mirabel into her lap to hug her. The doll stuck between them.

“Why are we sitting?” She questioned.

“I thought you would want a break. Or well, maybe not want one, but you need one. Your short legs must be killing you after all this walking.” Luisa explained.

“Well, yes, but if this is your solution to get me to accept your prize, it is not going to work. I won’t take it.”

“Nope, you can argue with me all you want; you’re keeping it. If I have to hammer it into your wall, I will.” Luisa insisted, ever an impenetrable force. “And you do deserve it. Okay? You may not be as strong as me, but your stupid amount of patience should be rewarded. You don’t want to be here and yet you are. You said you were staying because Dolores asked you to do so for food - but you could have just given her the food and left. She doesn’t need you to carry it. You know what I think? You are staying because you don’t want us to get hurt, sure. You are staying because you just want to see us happy.”

She smiled, a little. “I’m staying because I love you.”

“And I love you. So, here. Consider the doll a ‘thank you’, if you don’t want a gift.”

Luisa pulled the doll out and handed it to Mirabel, who did take it this time.

“She is rather pretty. With very fine embroidery,” Mirabel said, giving some approval to the doll as she admired it. “I honestly might recreate this pattern on my new skirt when we get home.”

“And she has very soft curls. Just like the real thing.” Luisa added.

“Will you stop playing with my hair?”

“No can do, I’m afraid. It’s one of my older sibling privileges. And it’s so much softer than mine! You also don’t have any knots in it, perfect to play with!”

“Well, stop messing up my forehead curl, it’s my favourite one. Every time you fiddle with it, you pull it loose and then I just have these wavy strands in front of my glasses for the rest of the day—”

There was sudden screaming in the distance and Mirabel sat up, alert, looking around for any of danger, steadying her glasses to see properly. Luisa turned her head, pointing to a large rollercoaster nearby.

“That’s where the screaming is coming from. Don’t worry, nothing is broken. It’s just people on a loop.” She paused, watching the rollercoaster soar along the tracks for a moment. “That’s the Cyclone. That was the big one on all the posters, you remember? Tío Bruno says it’s very popular. We’re gonna ride on it later, when the queues have gone down a bit. You wanna come?”

“Absolutely not! I’d rather stick pins in my eyes.”

Luisa laughed at her bluntness.

“Besides,” she continued, fiddling with the lace on the doll. “Someone should stay on look out. See if that puck ever comes back down to earth.”

[mitchikeli]

!TW¡ YANDERE THEMES, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, BLOOD AND VIOLENCE, SENSITIVE TOPICS

You say you need more love from me (XO (Only If You Say Yes) English Ver. Feat. JVKE)

Why was it so hard for her to simply listen? He always did everything for her, other than let her go out and talk with anyone other than him! So, when Sunoo found her chatting with someone on his phone, he frowned. "Wah, ___! I leave you alone for one second to sleep, and you break my rules? Aish, so annoying..." He said in that sugary sweet, mocking voice of his, causing her to drop his phone and look up at him with wide eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. "N...Noo, i-i wasn't doing anything, I-I'm sorry..." she had seen him mad before, and it didn't end well.

"Just stop talking, ___! You are so mean! I do everything for you, and you never even appreciate me!" He stated, already starting his sweet crocodile tears. They welled up in his eyes, causing the pretty girl to fill with guilt. She sprang up, sputtering apologies and trying to comfort him. Oh, how he loved how naive she was.

"I'm sorry, Noo! I'm sorry! Don't cry! You can punish me, please don't cry! I'm sorry!" She said in that sweetly worried tone she always used, her own eyes starting to fill up with thick, suffocating tears of guilt. Sunoo smirked from over her shoulder, before pulling back and looking at her with that sulky, sad pout he held on his face. He sniffled softly and nodded gently "I-I can punish you..? You promise...?" He asked softly, trying to guide her deeper into his manipulation. Her sweet brain fell for it, of course, and she nodded softly, holding back a whimper when Sunoo slammed the back of his hand against her delicate cheek.

He picked her up and dragged her to a bedroom, separated from their shared own. He slammed her down on the floor, his tears long gone and replaced by a dark expression. With a swift motion, he slammed the side of her head against the frame of the bed, making her let out a choked sound.

By the time he finished with her, she was unconscious, her pretty lips bleeding along with the sides of her doll-like face, her body littered with cuts and bruises. Sunoo wiped his hands and huffed, shaking his head as he walked out of the room and locked the door behind him. He would tend to her later.

When she woke up, her vision was blurry, her head hanging and feeling heavy. She fell forward, her forehead resting against the wooden floor. A quiet, choked whimper left her sweet mouth, pain bruising her entire existence. Just then, Sunoo walked in, holding that sickly sweet smile on his lips and a first aid kit in his hands. "___, you are up? That's good, it will make it easier to bandage you up" he said in his soft, melodic voice, kneeling infront of her to begin bandaging her up.

She leaned into his touch, craving affection and reassurance. Whimpers and winces left her bruised lips every time he brushed something against her injuries, making her cuddle closer to him - much to his satisfaction. -

Since then, she has been craving his touch and affection, which he gladly gave her. She could only cuddle up to him and cry when he changed her bandages or tied her to the bed while he fell asleep so she couldn't pull the same stunt. Of course, however, he didn't mind. How could he? Especially when his sweet angel was being so good for him! He could only reward her in order to encourage her to keep up her good attitude.

They sat on the bed, her in between his legs, with her back against his chest. Her eyes closed, a soft whimper leaving her as she tilted her head back, looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes of hers "Noo... I need more love from you... i-i feel like you don't like me..." she said in that candy sweet voice of hers, making Sunoo go crazy.

He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her perfect cheeks and nose. "More love, my ___? You will get it. Anything my sweet girl wants!" He cheered out as he kissed and peppered her adorable face with gentle kisses, making her giggle gently. Pure music to his ears, he wouldn't dream of letting her leave now that he finally broke her.

[lu-eclipse]

My first OC!

Hello there, tumblr! It is I. Eclipse. I am sorry to say this but I might take a while to post the day 11 art, if I even have the time to…I’m pretty busy right now. But the good news is that I managed to finish my AU Uzi! A character that I called Mest’

My AU Uzi (Uzi but with doll’s trauma and thirst for revenge): Mest’ is a Russian solver drone. Her right wing was red, her left wing was purple (when they were out of course). She wore a hoodie that had an emblem of an eclipse on it. It was part black crescent moon, part red sun. On the inside was a battery crossed with two bones. On the sleeve there was a nuclear symbol on it. She wore a black and red beanie. Like. All the time. A piece of her hair covered one of her eyes. That eye was white because it was broken by an insane A (this version of N) while they were fighting eldritch X (this version of J). She had a purple tail that Sin (this AU version of Cyn) could talk out of. Her hair was jet black and only reached her shoulders. On the bottom, her eyes -or at least her remaining eye- was red and on the top purple (post-episode 8). Mest’ was witty, sarcastic, yet rather blunt and cynical without forgetting to mention the fact that she was smart and more unhinged and crazy than Canon Uzi. She had lost her mother to the disassembly drones. And had seem it with her own eyes. It is a sensitive topic for her. She wanted nothing other than revenge on the disassembly drones for killing her mother. She and A had a “Nuzi” kinda relationship. But with more insanity and a lot of fights in the beginning, with Mest’ initiating said fights. Catch phrases: “ruthlessness is mercy”, “I’m gonna kill you, murder freak”, “Bite me”. Mest’ is the Russian word for vengeance 

What do you guys think? This is just a concept. If this gets…let’s say 30 likes, I might end up drawing her or even expanding my AU idea. If you liked the idea, or know someone who would like it, please share it with them. I don’t want to seem desperate. I like this idea but if no one likes it then I don’t see a purpose in continuing it. Anyway. Till then I will see you soon

[thxnks4themrms]

Littleeee rant about a news story I found about animal abuse under the cut

tw mentions of animal abuse, animal neglect, animal harm, and mentions of animal death

Okay so like idfk if yall have seen, but recently there’s been a story going around about a girl in her early 30s neglecting a cat of 10 years

So like basically the story ig is that she got her cat when she was 24 bc she was just desperate and lonely and then when she got to 30 and met her husband or something. Her cat took a disliking to the husband and the chick didn’t like that but it gets really bad after the lady gives birth. So the lady gives birth and whatever else and because of that postpartum, shit she’s like all upset with the cat and just overall finds the cat annoying and is putting her husband and her baby first. Overtime she really really gets annoyed with it and starts neglecting. She starts like going into detail about how she’d want to kick it (or kicked it I forgot), not feed it so it’d have to find anything to eat which resulted in it eating houseplants, and literally forget to put water in its water bowl so it had to drink out of the fucking toilet. She then went into detail about how she’d want the cat to just die and that’d she’d try to do things to lead it to its death

I might’ve skipped over some parts but I kinda just wanna rant about how like that’s a highkey really selfish thing to do. First of all, at her GROWN ASS AGE OF 34 she should know better than to do that. Animals are literally living organism just like humans with hearts and brains and pretty much the same muscles/intestines/organs as us (as far as ik) so they’re not some fucking doll. I feel like most animal abuse cases are because of people wanting a pet just because they feel like it but don’t consider long term things. You can’t just treat it like a toy because it literally is not and that’s a truth that sadly a lot of people don’t understand. I understand that the girl just gave birth and all and ik that’s tiring and shit and I don’t wanna be on her ass especially after carrying a whole ass person but dude there’s your husband who can take care of it as well. I don’t understand how you forget to feed and give your pet water when they need it just as much as you do. Tbh I don’t know how she even lives with the guilt of knowing she put her baby first over her older cat. Ik I say this a lot but one of my biggest fears is death - ig for me it’s like the pain that comes from it but if I really start to think of it Ik that once I’m dead I’m not gonna feel anything so ig it’s just the pain that comes before it. Death of my pets though is such a sensitive topic for me cause I just wanna keep them for as long as I can because ik that they’re not gonna be here forever and that I’m practically their entire lives. If you can’t take care of an animal, especially a cat, then how in gods fucking name do you think you’ll be able to take care of a fucking child. If you can’t take care of an animal you don’t leave it to die or lead it to its death, you take it to a fucking shelter. I’d rather it be adopted and taken care of with a different family for however longer it has left than to be found dead all because you got tired of it

Anyways chat sorry for ranting I just got really sick thinking about this and like I just find that subject to be really upsetting and gross and I just needed to yap about it somewhere

I lowkey forgot the name of the cat and other stuff so sorry that I’m referring to it as “it” 😭

Um also there’s like a ton of articles about it but I can’t find any that are free if you don’t have a subscription to the news company but you can check on TikTok cuz there’s like a ton of ss and the full story there so I’d totally read it

[ask-fell-drones]

Relationship

This story has some sensitive topics, like rape and abusive relationships

Lizzy, a female worker drone with blonde hair that ends in a pink tone, wears a giant dark pink sweater with hoodie and dark purple pants. She's hugging herself, while looking at the ground and foward, trying to not get attention. She's walking in the hall of her school, clearly afraid, even shaking a bit. Lizzy stops walking when she hears someone calling her name from behind.

"Hey Bitchy, how you doing?"

A male worker that was leaning in the wall called her. Lizzy looked at him with fear, she noticed that he wasn't alone, his friend was on his side. Both started walking towards her, she started to run away from them, but before she could the drone's friend used bolas to trap her feet. Lizzy fell to the ground, crying, she tried to escape, but the two male worker reached her first.

One punched her in the face, knocking her head on the ground, she screamed in pain, but they just chuckled, then, they knocked her out with a puch in the back of the head, sending it down and breaking her visor. When they noticed this, they stopped laughing.

"Fuck, let's take her out of here. Her girlfriend can't see this"

They took her to an empty room and locked it, so no one would go inside. They them put her on the ground, carefully, and started to use some repair tools to fix her.

Some time passed and they were almost done, there was only some scratchs left. The two workers were tired alredy, so they decided to relief some stress. While she didn't wake up, they started to take her clothes off, starting with the sweater, carefully taking it off, making sure they didn't damage it, they saw a red shirt that had claw marks in it, and in her metal skin, it was visible some scars made from claws.

Both workers looked at each other, questioning if they should continue this, but decided that no one would know, so there was no problem. They them removed her pants, revealing that she wasn't wearing anything underneath, but her legs were full of scars. One of the male touched a scar, this made Lizzy wake up.

Lizzy woke up, being half naked and locked in a room with two male workers and one was touching her, she tried to scream, but the other male was quick and put a muzzle on her. She tried to scream nontheless, but nothing came out, so the male's just chickled at this and continued.

The worker that put the muzzle on her started to take his pants off and the other started to go up her legs. Lizzy tried everything she could to get away, but it was all in vain. Before they could do anything, they heard screaming coming from the corridor. Both males stopped what they were doing and looked at the door, they saw a red light coming from it. They were shaking with fear as they heard footsteps on the other side. The one on Lizzy's leg stumbled on her and fell to the ground, making a noise that attracted the footsteps.

In the door they could see what they never wanted to, a red solver simbol, that meant that she was here. The door was broken with one attack and then they saw Doll. She's a bit bigger then the avarege drone, she wears a jacket made out of brown bear fur with a white shirt and a dark pink pant. Her fingers extended, turning into sharp claws. Her teeth were sharper then the normal worker. And her iconic red solver simbol that was always in her visor, the hexagon in the middle was smaller and moved arround, tracing were Doll was staring, and she was staring right at Lizzy in that moment.

Doll quickly ripped the legs of the worker close to Lizzys face, taking him by the throat before he fell, she then opened her mouth, revealing a shrp tongue, that went straight through the male's head. She then turned to the other one that was on the ground, completely terrified of her.

"L-L-Look-k s-sorry, ok-ok? I d-din't mean it, I-"

Before he could finish talking, Doll ripped his arms off, wich made him scream in pain, and she caught his tongue. The worker was terrified and screaming from te top of his lung, then, Doll pulled his tongue and shoved her hand inside his mouth, cutting the root of his tongue. She then picked him and throwed againt the wall, breaking it and sending him to the ground below, where he would bleed to death.

Lizzy, even thoguh was saved, was terrified, she didn't know what she would do to her, so she just crwled to a corner and hugged her legs, still crying. Doll noticed this and walked to her, she kneeled in front of Lizzy.

"Is everything okay Lizzy?"

"W-What do you think?"

Lizzy said with a bit of anger in her tone, wich she immediatly regreted.

"O-Oh, sorrry, sorry, I didn't mean to be-"

Lizzy was crying and tried to hold Doll's hand, but she just stared at Lizzy.

"Is that how you thank me?"

Doll's tone was threatening, making Lizzy scared, she backed away and covered her head. This made Doll even angrier.

"After everything I did for you, that's how your gonna repay me?"

Doll then took one of Lizzy's arm and forced her to look in her eyes.

"IS THAT HOW YOU REPAY ME?!"

Doll then throwed Lizzy in the wall, cracking it. Lizzy screamed in pain, wich made Doll snap out of heer anger and see what she had done. She was horrified, she hurt Lizzy, again. Doll quickly ran to her.

"I-I'm sorry Lizzy, I-I lo-"

"DON'T, PLEASE, I'M SORRY, I DIDN'T MEAN IT, I'M-I'M"

Lizzy sobs didn't allow her to finish her sentence. This hurt Doll in the core, seeing Lizzy in this state, and knowing she was the cause.

"Get up, I'll take you home safely"

Lizzy slowly got up and backed away from Doll, but she took her arm and put close to her. Lizzy was scared and wanted to be away from her, while Doll wanted to get away from Lizzy to think on what she has done, but knew Lizzy wouldn't be able to go to her house alone.

(Lizzy and Doll are avilable for asks)

[d-parade]

talking about ocs…

here are my tranny ones (mbad i can’t draw well and only practiced face cause that’s what i need for brainstorming characters)

i always talked about muchen (left) but never oephelia. i’ll give backstories and share information for both because they’re more than their sex status.

warning uhhhhhh extremely sensitive topics?

oephelia

oephelia is 12 and part of a storyverse called: “furouchouju club”, revolving around said club of 5 which pledged to reject adulthood and save children/ teenagers from the cruel adult society.

oephelia grew up with an abusive alcoholic dad who practically treated her like a slave. he would beat her whenever she showed any form of emotion, thus the mask. plus due to the obvious, she hates her face.

a huge aspect of thr story follows these 5 (oephelia included) as they’re forced to accept their “adulthood” as they age, the very thing which caused them pain. for oephelia’s case, she struggles with obviously, puberty. when she looks into the mirror it’s like seeing her dad, which adds fuel to the already blazing fire lol. the others know ofc, but do not give a shit other than comforting and helping her.

sad shit aside, she enjoys collecting antique dolls and nice toys in general. she’s also the youngest in the club so she gets babied quite a bit. the mask she wears switches as she ages, and she paints them herself. her victorian era clothes are also self made, taking a lot of pride in them.

in the above image though, she is approximately 16.

muchen

muchen is 17 and part of a verse called: “whatever you do” (temp name). basically him, with two other homies, destroying the country’s biggest crime syndicate.

(long ass backstory) muchen lived in the slums/ favela and left with shady ppl in promise of better life. turns out he was sold to rich fucks and branded as a “tranny” for perverts with that fetish. but desperately pleaded and became an underground child rink fighter. when he lost (if you lose, ppl who bet on you and lost money have the rights to use you as a toy, as compensation), he was almost raped but escaped out the window. he broke bones, crawled to safety, where he grew up in a garbage landfill. since the crime syndicate is in charge of his trauma, he vowed to kill the boss and take the entire syndicate down.

again, horrific shit aside, he eventually warms up to people instead of being a lone wolf afraid to make friends. he likes motorbikes and manga and working out. despite living in the 2000s/ 2010s, he has a 80s yankii hairstyle because he thinks it’s cool.

they’re the only two that are… yknow. i also do have characters who happen to be gay. or more specifically, most of my characters (i have about 20 “main”ish ones) do not have a sexuality cause it’s not important. those that are semi relevant to the plot, are still not canonically labelled as “gay”, “aromantic asexual” and shit.

[superman--yoosung]

hi your matchups say they're still open, i hope this it okkk!! i'm 🐇

• i have no preference towards gender but i don't like super masculine characters

• i don't really use pronouns but she/her, ver/vers, it/its are ok. fem presenting but with androgynous swag. beautiful in a girlprince way

• adult character from genshin! only recently turned 18 though haha. no tighnari or childe pls!

• i loove fashion (designing it, studying it, wearing it), idols, rabbits and deer, sewing outfits + plush dolls and creaching around at night. i haate loud, messy people and lots of textures (i'm autistic). i hate the sunlight! terrified of dogs IRL but i'd be a collie or black german shepherd.

• i'm mostly quiet (INTP), i have no control over my tone/filter so i get people saying they thought i hate them/i look angry a lot. air-headed, very low attention-span and "bimbo" tier. clumsy most of time/i dont look at what im doing. i love acting valley girl or like a malnourished bimbo (idk). i'm like a dog with the personality of a cat. beliefs.. don't be a freak idk .. don't kill ppl and i will be judgmental if i don't like your vibes.

• i think i'd have electro vision just because i get it a lot on quizzes. i also connect to it the most aesthetically. id love a sword and id have a vv elegant/pretty fighting style ..

• personal flaw erm there's zero connection between my brain and mouth so i can't really communicate much of my real feelings (esp affection). i also struggle to connect with ppl!! i'm mostly disconnected 90% of the time so it's very hard to truly love (romantically or platonically) someone for me!

• i'm 162cm... vampire to the extreme i'm 100% a vampire if im in genshin.. very strict on skincare and how i look (sensitivity issues). OR half-deer.. or half-rabbit.. My personal aesthetic is ouji/lolita, victorian/gothic themes of Black Butler and The girl from the other side.. Dark fantasy/dark academia.. LOL

i'm TERRIBLE at giving affection and words of affirmation. i love words of affirmation though and i realllly jus want someone equally as love with me/if not more

Hello 🐇, nice to meet you!! Your matchup was challenging because I kept doubting my choices, thinking, "Wouldn't this or that character's design be a texture/sensory nightmare, though??" which is a really silly thing for me to get caught up in, of all the many factors involved. (But in my defense, all the characters have SO MUCH going on in their outfits haha!!)

Your matchup is.............................

KAZUHA !!

Meeting under the cloak of darkness once or twice could merely be considered coincidence... By the fifth time, however, Kazuha was certain: it was fate that continued to bring the two of you together.

To those unfamiliar with the elusive duo, a relationship such as yours might seem threadbare - after all, since you only made your appearance when the moon was at its highest, and Kazuha drifted from place to place like a leaf in the wind, it seemed unlikely that you would ever cross paths in important ways. But you both knew differently. Naturally, even the smallest of actions, a singular drop in a pool of water, becomes a ripple whose rings inevitably grow in meaningful ways.

This is how Kazuha views your relationship: subtle, and all the more beautiful for it.

Fun details:

It will not take too many meetings for Kazuha to find you endearing. He's observant, so the nuances of your interactions will linger in his mind long after you've left. He'll enjoy learning about you and your mannerisms! He will always be respectful of your boundaries, too - and with his sharp mind, he can often tell if you're bothered without you having to verbalize it. (He'll ask, anyways, though, just to be sure.)

Kazuha admires your abilities and passion in subjects you enjoy. Many of the evenings you spend beneath the moonlight or on cloudy days are filled with discussions that jump from topic to topic, sharing your interests with one another. Kazuha is an eager listener, so feel free to share your passions to your heart's content! He will remember most every word. But when you're feeling quiet or have nothing to share, he can fill the silence with his charming words - though quiet companionship is also enough, too.

Of course, he knows how clumsy you can be, but as long as he's around, the wind will keep you steady on your feet. If you're comfortable with physical touch, he'll reach out to balance you, or let you hold onto him. If not, he'll do his best to verbally warn you of any uneven terrain or obstacles in your path you haven't noticed.

You two are THE definition of elegance in battle. Kazuha can swirl your electro abilities, making potent reactions. And as sword users, you can both keep your skills sharp by practicing together!

If you ever give Kazuha one of your creations, it will almost instantly become one of his most treasured posessions. He will do his best to keep it safe from harm on his journeys - though the wear and tear clothing might get from constant use is, in a way, a sign of how much he loves it. (Please forgive him if the clothes or plushies do see some light damage, though; the mercenary life is not always kind.)

Once you've become closer, Kazuha will bring you gifts from his travels. They're mostly small things that remind him of you: a carving of a rabbit, some medicine for your most recent clumsy tumble's resulting scratches, a paper umbrella from Liyue to help block out the sun. Whatever he sees that he thinks would interest you or that you might find use for in your day-to-day life, he'll get. If you dislike any of them, he takes no offense to that, either - he'll quietly store the details of what you disliked about it in his mind for reference the next time he gets you something.

You want words of affirmation? Oh, boy, does he provide! It's actually rarer for him to not slip a compliment or reassurance into your conversations. He'll take any chance he can to remind you of how much he treasures your company, and should you decide to pursue a romantic relationship with him, how much he delights in giving you affection (and being the recipient of yours, in whatever ways you deign to give it.)

He will write the most stunning of poems with you in mind, string dozens of haikus together with your name as inspiration. And, in the quiet company of only you and the moon, he'll whisper words of devotion, of loyalty and hope.

Kazuha, if asked to point to the one thing he loves most about you, will laugh at the inquiry, shaking his head. How can one point to a cloud in the sky and call it superior to the others around it? Kazuha thinks all of the things that make you unique are inseparably what he loves you for. To ask him to pick one is to ask the impossible of him. Still, if it was you who pressed him for an answer, he might relent, and tell you this: your very presence, right here beside him under the nighttime tapestry of midnight blue and flickering stars, gives him a sense of belonging, makes him think that - yes - there are things far greater than a life of wandering... and they can all be found within the depths of your eyes.

~~I feel like many writers default to Albedo when someone mentions difficulty expressing emotions, and while I do love him for you too (for other reasons), I thought Kazuha would be better with words of affirmation and understanding what you may leave unspoken. I almost went with Rosaria or Yelan, also, as you both could be creatures of the night together (lol), but I hope this matchup is satisfactory!

[ask-lala-and-lana]

Aight, Lana's turn.

1. Colorful things.

2. I can't find any child character with a speech impediment, so I settled for Marcella from Raggedy Ann and Andy.

3. Lana is kind of a mix but, she's main outdoor person.

4. Scripting and making lore.

5. She always dreamt of being a director! And now.. she kind of is..? But, she's more of a scripture and story writer :P

6. Her scars, once she was so insecure about them, she went into a Sephora and stole a foundation as an attempt to cover up her scars.

A bit of explanation on the scars : She got all those scars from her father, no, her father wasn't abusive he was possessed by a demon and got mind-controled to hurt the only kid he had left.

7. Every other part of her body <3

8. Horror stories and kids' books, especially Beetlejuice!

9. School books.

10. She really loves Epic the Musical, and her fav kind of music is pop!

11. Lana's not really the type of girl to fall in love, but she does have her crush on best friend, Mateo!

12. She only gets B's, in 1st grade she was know as "B girl".

13. In a beautiful enchanted forest.

14. Idk, Lana is too naive and oblivious to be embarrassed.

15. (TW⚠️ sensitive topic) Before any of her friends died or moved away, she had : Petunia, Costina, and Mateo. Petunia and Mateo ended up dying, Petunia because of Cancer and Mateo because of his abusive dad. As for Costina, she and her family had to unfortunately move back to Romania.. Hence, why Lana wears the red, green, and yellow bracelets, but Lana didn't lose all her friends. She still had her great friend, Wilbur Darling.

16. Lana love love, love, love, LOVES her parents, especially her mama, but she doesn't mind spending time with her papa too. As opposed to LaLa, Lana is more of a mommy's girl to s literally degree.

17. LaLa is her brother/sister and her trusty assistant, she loves her to bits!

18. Witnessing her uncle drown her other older sister (not LaLa)

19. (TW⚠️ sensitive topic) Her mother's death, her father's possession, her eldest sister leaving, witnessing her other older sister's death, the racism from her step-grandma.

20. Any memory that was happy.

21. Drawing, painting, playing with dolls, watching Winx, and Miraculous LadyBug, playing pretend with her step-siblings, playing with her sister.

22. Refusing to accept all her trauma and move on and instead make a show about it.

23. Her biggest flaw is that she's too naive and innocent, as for her strength she doesn't know it but she's really smart.

24. Way worse than how LaLa handles death, Lana was the one who saw her mom's dead corpse next to the crime scene, and absolutely she didn't take so kindly.. That's the reason she made Lesley.. To represent her mother.. and Roy as her father.

26. Hates gum for some reason and green.

25. Her fav color is purple, and her fav food is human hands because she's a picky cannibal as opposed to her sister as for normal food she likes cookies :3

27. Gemini :3

28. Lana loves both, but, as Caseoh once said, "KITTTTYYYYUHHHHH!!!"

29. She never had a first kiss because only 10-

30. Since she still a child who still loves fairytales, of course she does.

OC Ask Game

Thought I’d take a crack and make one you guys can reblog and enjoy and play amongst your mutuals.

does your oc have any motifs?

describe your character's voice. do they have a voice claim?

is your character an indoor or outdoor person?

what's your character's favorite recreational activity?

what was your character's dream job as a kid? is it different than what their career ended up being?

what is the thing your oc likes the least about themselves?

what is the thing your oc likes the most about themselves?

what book genre is their favorite?

what book genre is their least favorite?

what kind of music do they enjoy?

has your OC ever fallen in love and with whom?

how well does your OC do in school?

where would your OC like to go on a honeymoon?

An embarrassing secret about your OC?

who is your OC’s best friend?

how does your OC feel about their parents?

how does your OC feel about their siblings?

a memory that still makes your OC angry?

a memory that still makes your OC sad?

a nostalgic memory from your OC’s childhood?

hobbies your OC enjoys?

what is holding your OC back to achieve their goals?

what are your OC’s biggest flaws and biggest strengths?

how does your OC handle death of someone they know?

favorite food and color for your OC?

least favorite food and color?

your OC’s zodiac sign?

is your OC a dog or cat person?

when was their first kiss?

does your OC wish to be married someday?

[fantomette22]

Thoughts on the Plain Doll (long post ahead)

« There’s a LOT to say about the plain doll but for now I will only talk about why I think she was made in the first place. What’s her original purpose ? »

If you played Bloodborne, you certainly know the Doll. The Plain Doll. A ray of light and comfort in this horrible night of the hunt. In this nightmare. 

She’s a sentient and animate doll in the Hunter’s dream. In the real world she’s not. She’s just a doll, in an abandoned old workshop (but is she really just that ?) Even if she’s not a real human being she’s much more than just a doll or an animated object.

Surprisingly some actions she does are closer to the one of a human. A doll wouldn’t need to sleep or to breathe right ? and yet she does. (Doll don’t shed tears or blood ? Well it’s not human tears or human blood but… she does that too…).

She’s not just “animated” she genuinely seems to have at least a little part of a human soul. (But not enough to be fully human…). Why and how she came to life remain a some kind of mystery. Well we can guess but we will probably never know in detail what happened. When was she animated?  When the dream was create ? Some time after ? Who knows...

Well I’m not planning to talk about this for now, no. I wanted to talk about something a bit different. 

There’s a LOT to say about the plain doll but for now I will only talk about why I think she was made in the first place. What’s her original purpose ? 

I know it’s kind of a sensitive subject. I don’t want to start anything and it’s not a way to continue anything. I just want to share my thoughts and maybe offer a different view on this topic to people who like Bloodborne and are looking for differents takes. Who are doing research to try to learn more & understand this amazing game more. (Personally, I would have like a lot to find more things like this when I began my own researches).

First allow me to explain how much I love her. Before even playing the game I already really like her. For the first few dozen hours of my first run she was my favorite character (yes my first run took me 100h that’s why).

So, There’s many interpretations and speculations about the doll. I’m not going to talk about everything or we never going to finish (i won’t go into detail about Maria, Gehrman or the winter lanterns for exemple) So I will concentrate only one main thing (+ minors interpretations). The main idea I believe about is that originally, the doll is supposed to be a mourning doll.

So what’s a mourning doll ?

First, we need to talk a bit about the Victorian era (Europe, XIXe century) and their custom about death. Some things they did to honored and remember their dead were really differents from what we do today. We could even say they are disturbing today. Death was something more common (expecially among children) and a less taboo subject. They had post-death pictures (a last photography of someone who is already dead like they were still alive, sometimes taken alongside relatives who are still alive), death mask (plaster mask of the face of the deceased person), jewelry made with hair and morning dolls.

So mourning dolls. They were made to represented a dead child. Help the family grief, to honor their memory, to remember them. That depend the age of the child but they were a lot smaller that the true size of the child. It was quite expensive to make so not everyone could order one . It was generally the size of an infant/baby or a small child, for the bigger one. 

They were made in the likeness of the child  they were supposed to represent. Usually the clothes they wear belong to the child. Sometimes the hair of the doll came from the dead infant as well.

After the funeral the dolls were usually place on the grave of the lost child. But sometimes they were kept by the family. Placed resting in the crib. And sometimes aven taken care of. We could say they were some sort of surrogate children ? They filled the emptiness left during grief.

I believe it correspond with the doll. Even if of course the doll is not based on a child but on an adult woman. (And she’s scale 1/1 and 2 meters tall..)

We know that the doll is based on Lady Maria. She might have die a big while before the event of the game. And we know that Gehrman probably made the doll, (at least her clothes. Thanks to the description. They were made with great love) after the death Maria (it makes the most sense).

"Discarded doll clothing, likely a spare for dress-up."  "A deep love for the doll can be surmised by the fine craftsmanship of this article, and the care with which it was kept."  "It borderlines on mania, and exudes a slight warmth."

So I think this work whatever the interpretations of the relationship between Maria & Gehrman you believe in.

(Ok maybe not the creep one. I’m not really a fan of this one though? But that depend I guess… she’s the only one doll we saw in the game. So this method of coping with her loose might be quite unusual for Yharnam. By the way a lot of things on this subject are in fact mistranslations).

Anyway if you consider the father/ daughter relationship it completely make sense ! He made a mourning doll based on his daughter/ daughter figure ! Completely in the theme. And also on the theme of the great one losing their child and earning for a surrogate.

Now, about the second big interpretation(s) (romantic/ oneside feelings etc) I believe it work too. Her looses disturbed him so much he made the doll for the reason people made one.  So yes it’s not the usually reason why people made morning dolls but I think it has the same final purpose. To honored her memory and to have something to take care of.

Remember how mourning dolls can be placed next to the grave too?

Well now I can’t saw this the same ever again… if you consider this is indeed Maria’s grave. 

My thoughts on this topic

About the doll face / appearance :

So it’s basically the same as Maria (almost). The « cracks » is probably because the painting on the faces is really old and hasn’t been done in quite some times. The grave is half broken because of the plants too.. it’s been awhile since nobody take care of them in the real world. Still, the doll is in a pretty good state.

Her face is a bit pale too… with dark circle under her eyes, white/ grey hair…a bit weird ? Did Maria really look like this before her death ? (When we fight her she looks more dead too…)

She could not have been in really good health and that’s why… but there’s another explanation.

The doll could be base on Maria after her death. But I don’t think he just take her corpse as a model and made the doll directly based on that… my view is the same as the following :

The last memory he have of her is probably after her death. The sight might have such a huge impact on him that unconsciously he made her that way / he could only remember her looking like this.

About the clothes.

Some tend to criticize a lot Gehrman about it. I don’t really agree with this view.

First we know that Maria stop being a hunter and took care of the research hall. And throw away her Rakuyo. 

The doll clothes are not made for fighting (really low defense. Only a little fire def like all the other Yharnamites clothes + probably a good quality fabric. It’s one one the most expensive set you can sell too). (And the cainhurst dress cost nothing 😭).

So that kinda respect her wish right ? Even if she never wear that kind of clothes maybe Gehrman wanted to give her comfortable and nice clothes, far from the hunt.  There’s a lot of layers it’s proper and really respectful. Yes she even got an orange short trousers underneath her skirt :

(And that came from a girl who doesn’t wear a lot of feminine clothes XD ! No dress, no skirt…).

And maybe she did wear such clothes, outside of the hunt. (The one we get who have an extra bow tie is describe are the spare set, that Gehrman probably made. We don’t know about the first one but it might be the same thing too?)

Maybe it’s even hers. Remember how morning dolls can wear the original child clothes ? (there's the pendentif too!) (+ the clothes are black and look like mourning clothes too).

Or maybe she begin to wear this when she begin to work at the research hall. Ok i know the patient are blind but maybe it wasn’t always the case ? A Lady Hunter sight like Maria will certainly scare quite some of them. But someone who is more like the doll we know? You would certainly trust her faster. 

Both even have almost the same boots ! I find it a bit modern even ? I’m not sure people wear that type of clothes together ? It remind me of something more modern. Like a dress/ skirt with some doc/ boots.

_ _ _

Also need to talk shortly about the cut content. Original the doll wasn’t was probably not a mourning doll. Bloodborne had multiple rewriting of it’s story + a lot of cut content so originally the doll was based on a different character (Queen Annalise. She was supposed to be a surrogate for the child of the Vileblood/ cut umbilical cord description ver 1.0/ but well it was retcon. And after it was someone else (when the apprentice, Gehrman & the doll were 3 differents characters) and after she was based on Lady Maria). 

But what I always found fascinating was that she seems to be a mixt from someone from Cainhurst (clothes/look) and the Healing church (black skirt, woman salute of the church…). It was probably so intriguing before dlc.

When I saw this it clicked in my head !

Other complementary interpretations / minor interpretations : 

Also it could be a desperate way to bring her back + to reach the next level of evolution.

I’m not sure that Gehrman really wanted to animated the doll in the real world but it’s also an idea I like 👍 so maybe he did ask help from the Moon Presence too.

Or Flora noticed that Gehrman was growing more and more tired and sad and all and was like : Tada! I made you a friend to keep you company. Using the doll of the person you care a lot about. That make you Happy right ? Right ?

Another idea I like, is how the church/ Laurence could be involve in the creation of the doll. 

Trying to bring back the soul of someone into an artificial body. Who doesn’t age, doesn’t get sick, doesn’t bled, you can change the part of… isn’t it’s on the theme as to try to evolve humanity to the next stage of evolution ? Closer to the great one ?

And I read a really cool theory on Reddit (Can’t find it again…) about how the winter lanterns are dolls yes but created by the church/Mensis to take care of Mergo/ help hunters in the nightmares. But  they get corrupted… (The common ideas is that the winter lanterns are some sort of nightmare of our hunter/ Maria / Gehrman / patient of the research hall. And I agree with this too.

So hm… that was long. There’s really a lot to say about Bloodborne, the lore and the characters. I could talk about it for hours maybe.

Thank you for reading this ! I hope it was interesting. I wish we can talk more about this subject nicely if you want to add something ! Thank you :)

[septembersghost]

i like ana as a cuban myself and im glad she's making it, but she's been doing the most with the promotion of that film. oates was obsessed with sexual abuse and would romanticize it to hell and back and this is all so disrespectful. marilyn will never be left alone and she's dead. it's disgusting how she was never a person but a product and continues to be

ana's comments have been annoyingly tone deaf, but my issues are far more with the director, whose comments i find abhorrent, and the producers (amongst them br*d p*tt), and, netflix itself at this point (there was a report that netflix was "absolutely horrified" by the final cut - okay? you're the distributors, you can make the decision here), and the fact that for every woman online discussing this with deep concerns, or talking about being horribly triggered by it, or trying to defend and uphold marilyn's true memory, there are men replying, at best, "it's ~art~, you just don't get it," or at WORST (and i have seen this over and over again, i deleted my post about it the other night, but it's disgusting and deeply telling), openly excited at seeing the graphic r*pe scenes and the degradation threaded throughout the film, down to comments where they're replying with their whole chests that they can't wait to get off to it, down to the dude i saw who, when in response to a woman asking what is wrong with him that he wants to see marilyn fictionally assaulted, he said, "it's not about seeing marilyn being r*ped, it's about seeing ana de armas as marilyn being r*ped." they have no shame and no compunction about saying this aloud. and no doubt a lot of it is about titillation over marilyn herself, but marilyn has now been gone for so long and is so mythologized and commodified that she's no longer a real person, she's only a poster of a white skirt blowing in the subway breeze, she's only a body. it's been sixty years, and you'd think somehow she'd be treated more carefully and respectfully at some point.

it negates her humanity, her talent, and the reality of her abuse (why are we adding heinous fictional abuse onto the life of a woman who WAS subjected to abuse and hurt and objectification across her short life?). i have no idea if the film even touches on the medical trauma she endured, for example, both physical (particularly in regards to her endometriosis) and mental (and what she was subjected to during her forced hospital stay), but i know there's a depiction of a talking fetus, so that tells me enough. oates is someone i have countless issues with anyway, and blonde is neither the first nor the last time she fictionalized real life events in the most traumatic way possible with no respect for the victims. you're right, she seems to have a fixation on this topic.

what breaks my heart is i know this story reduces marilyn to a shell, a broken doll, the helpless dumb blonde beauty who was exploited and used by men for their pleasure, devoid of self-respect, desperate to be loved, dragging herself towards her tragic end, and that's not who she was. that's the boilerplate version that was sold of her. she was a sensitive, thoughtful, savvy woman; she was well-read, she was ambitious (do they even bother to mention her production company? her progressive politics? her wry humor? her extensive library? do they touch on, as the post i reblogged mentioned, her conversion to judaism and her studies?), she longed to be appreciated for her talent and not her physical form, she tried to improve and grow, and yes, she did yearn for love and belonging and a family and motherhood after an upbringing of neglect and abuse, but degrading and exploiting her further isn't the way to examine that or get it across. and idc how often they say this is a highly fictionalized account, plenty of people will watch it not knowing that, and take it as some semblance of fact (this happens with biopics all the time), and it's a disgrace to her legacy. i try not to be a proponent of saying certain art/stories within reason shouldn't exist, but there was no defensible argument for this to be made. marilyn is never allowed to be seen as a whole person. marilyn is never allowed to rest. exactly as you said, she's used as nothing but a product. this was her worst fear. she said, "i hope they don't do that to me after i'm gone." she deserves to be remembered as a person. she deserved better then, she unquestionably deserves better now.

not to give credit to arthur miller, but he said, "to have survived, she would have had to be either more cynical or even further from reality than she was. instead, she was a poet on a street corner trying to recite to a crowd pulling at her clothes." they're still pulling at her clothes, at this point they're digging at her grave.

but let's ultimately look at marilyn's words, the real things she left us to consider, which matter most. she left us her films, her luminous image, but she also left us her poetry and written accounts of her life and interviews that are far more fascinating and relevant than any gratiuitous fiction could ever be.

marilyn said, in an interview given just before her death: "I never wanted to be Marilyn—it just happened. Marilyn’s like a veil I wear over Norma Jeane...I can always find Marilyn in the mirror."

"it's still about nudity. is that all I'm good for?"

"But when you're famous you kind of run into human nature in a raw kind of way. It stirs up envy, fame does. People you run into feel that, well, who is she, who does she think she is, Marilyn Monroe? They feel fame gives them some kind of privilege to walk up to you and say anything to you, you know, of any kind of nature and it won't hurt your feelings. Like it's happening to your clothing. One time here I am looking for a home to buy and I stopped at this place. A man came out and was very pleasant and cheerful, and said, "Oh, just a moment, I want my wife to meet you." Well, she came out and said, "Will you please get off the premises?" You're always running into people's unconscious...Usually they don't say it to me, they say it to the newspapers because that's a bigger play. You know, if they're only insulting me to my face that doesn't make a big enough play because all I have to say is, "See you around, like never." But if it's in the newspapers, it's coast-to-coast and all around the world. I don't understand why people aren't a little more generous with each other."

"It's nice to be included in people's fantasies, but you also like to be accepted for your own sake. I don't look at myself as a commodity, but I'm sure a lot of people have."

"It was the creative part that kept me going, trying to be an actress. I enjoy acting when you really hit it right. And I guess I've always had too much fantasy to be only a housewife. Well, also, I had to eat. I was never kept, to be blunt about it; I always kept myself. I have always had a pride in the fact that I was my own."

"I'm one of the world's most self-conscious people. I really have to struggle. An actor is not a machine, no matter how much they want to say you are. Creativity has got to start with humanity and when you're a human being, you feel, you suffer."

"There is a need for aloneness, which I don't think most people realize for an actor. It's almost having certain kinds of secrets for yourself that you'll let the whole world in on only for a moment, when you're acting. But everybody is always tugging at you. They'd all like sort of a chunk of you."

"I think that when you are famous every weakness is exaggerated. This industry should behave like a mother whose child has just run out in front of a car. But instead of clasping the child to them, they start punishing the child."

"Fame has a special burden, which I might as well state here and now. I don't mind being burdened with being glamorous and sexual. But what goes with it can be a burden."

"I never quite understood it, this sex symbol. I always thought symbols were those things you clash together! That's the trouble, a sex symbol becomes a thing. I just hate to be a thing."

"I don't think people will turn against me, at least not by themselves. I like people. The "public" scares me, but people I trust. Maybe they can be impressed by the press or when a studio starts sending out all kinds of stories. But I think when people go to see a movie, they judge for themselves. We human beings are strange creatures and still reserve the right to think for ourselves."

"It might be a kind of relief to be finished. You have to start all over again. But I believe you're always as good as your potential. I now live in my work and in a few relationships with the few people I can really count on. Fame will go by, and, so long, I've had you fame. If it goes by, I've always known it was fickle. So at least it's something I experienced, but that's not where I live."