#Facial Mask Market

[akkivee]

these making a comeback was not on my hypmic bingo card tbh

[call-of-duty-incorrect-quotes]

Price: You’re smiling under your mask, aren’t you?

Ghost: I just had a shower with Johnny.

Price: I don’t want to know.

Ghost: No, no. It was amazing. He has stuff like charcoal facial scrub and pomegranate and mango shower milk…

Ghost: I came out of the shower smelling like a fresh fruit market on a hot summer's day feeling like a brand new man.

Ghost: 13/10 would recommend.

[stairset]

I’m sorry but I seriously can’t take old ass Michael Keaton Batman in the Flash movie seriously it’s like. I know pandering fanservice is the hot thing but in this case it’s just too on the nose. Like at least when Disney does it they make some semblance of an attempt to make it not feel too out of place (to varying degrees of success) but Michael Keaton in the Flash trailer may as well be winking directly at the camera with how in your face it is.

[autumnmobile12]

My Hero Academia AU: Sleeping Habits

A short comic for Ambush Simulation.

Summer Camp with UA and the Wild, Wild Pussycats.

This one’s a parody since this is a scene from Durarara x2!! and therefore this part will not be appearing in the Ambush Simulation fic.  It’s still funny to think about, so here's a little bonus while I work on the next chapter.

I don’t know if there’s a market in the simping community for post-shower hair Spinner, but if there is…you’re welcome?

I have no explanation for why Compress would wear the mask while asleep. (The original was a dude wearing a gas mask because he was worried about polluted air.)  Maybe he knows Dabi sleeps like a maniac and, on realizing he got the futon next to his, opted to wear some facial protection to avoid getting slapped in the face by the oblivious little shit.

Also, the headcanon that Dabi talks in his sleep...sure, why not?

...

Dabi:  Why are you wearing that mask?

Compress:  Nothing to be concerned about.

[sexilene]

i had to re-do this bc tumblr is being sooo weird!

lene's fairytale girls ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃

fairy!reader -

ᥫ᭡ fairy!reader- she’s jj’s girl! she’s quite social, ditzy, sweet but a bit sassy, quite stubborn and very ‘yappy’. she’s very good at making things like her own clothes, blankets….like 'tinkering’. loves running around the grass and finding little flowers to press into a journal or just to keep around the house. floral everythinggg, loves sweets for breakfast, baking, carnivals, cotton candy, big hair rollers, sparkly lip gloss, platform sandals, natural hair, , annoying jj, kissing jj, being practically always on top of her poor boyfriend lol.

princess!reader

ᥫ᭡ princess!reader- is without a doubt a rafe girl. she’s no bimbo but is a bit ditzy at times, she is kind, organized, honest and just a tiny bit posh…she likes going to pilates, rose petal facials, going shopping, romance fairy tale movies and the 2000s barbie movies, pink mani-pedis, flower gardens, cupcakes, bath bombs, walk-in-closets, satin dresses, going out to dinner with rafe, basically following him around and loving how he worships her!

mermaid!reader

ᥫ᭡ mermaid!reader- is a john b girl, she is curious, sweet, quite sleepy, affectionate, empathetic and sensitive. she has a job at the aquarium and she of course loves the ocean, collecting seashells, ice cream, sun tans and body shimmer, thrifting, exploring, tropical flowers, farmer’s markets, baths, sleeping n cuddling with john b…and ofc lovesss her boyfriend cause he’s just so yum

enchantress!reader

ᥫ᭡ enchantress!reader- she’s pope’s girl, she’s a bit shy but once brought out of her comfort zone is really magnetic. people fall in love with her at first sight! she’s smart, amazing with animals, loves the moon, looong hair and surprisingly really persuasive. she loves ice teas, fun nail sets, crystals, baby animals, glitter eye shadow, diy face masks, scented candles, rainy nights and studying with pope ofc. honestly doing anything with him makes her happy.

[acourtofthought]

Regarding Lucien’s scars. I think it’s basically a headcanon in the fandom that Lucien still has the scars on his back from being whipped, but if those are present in canon too, that could be interesting. Howeverrrr… the facial scar must be kind of a big deal for Lucien. Amarantha attacked him 50ish years ago and then within a few days she organized that masquerade ball “in Lucien’s honor” - the masked theme was a scheme to help him basically hide what she did to his face. Then the masks were plastered to the faces of everyone in Spring Court because Tamlin didn’t accept to sleep with Amarantha. So here’s Lucien, hiding his scars for 50 years no matter how uncomfortable the whole mask situation may have been… but now his facial scar that he cannot hide anywhere (unlike Azriel’s hands) is just in full view for anyone who looks at him. I think there is no question about it. He must be self conscious about it, especially since he thinks Elain is the most beautiful female he has ever seen and she doesn’t reciprocate anything yet. People have been writing about it here on tumblr recently but I really hope SJM explores Lucien’s character from this perspective too. I assume he must feel very inadequate compared to Elain. She has so much (family, friends, connected to the IC, safety and security, beauty, etc.), whereas Lucien refers to himself as a whole lot of nothing. He doesn’t have a home or even a court, he’s basically all alone in the fae world, his closest allies are two humans who so far don’t have much power or influence in Prythian. I assume he is probably also unhappy with his looks after such a traumatic experience. I hope SJM explores this, I think that would be a really cool addition to Elucien’s healing journey. Even though Lucien is quite snarky and cocky outwardly, his inner monologue seems very self conscious. Ahhh SJM give us the angstttttt

I AGREE!!!!!! I think while there are sincere aspects of Lucien's personality that are (hahaha, I just accidentally typed snocky which was my brain getting confused on whether I wanted to type snarky or cocky first) snarky and cocky, I also feel it's a default mechanism too. Lucien is known to take care in his appearance and he is aware of appearances. Even in book once he was a bit of a fashionista, commenting on how Feyre's tunic wasn't as pretty as a dress and being amazed at how positively fae she looked when she did finally put one on. There's also this: Lucien said, "True. But indulge me: you're a human woman, and yet you'd rather eat hot coals than sit here longer than necessary. Ignoring this" - he waved a hand at the metal eye and brutal scar on his face-" surely we're not so miserable to look at. Lucien must be constantly aware of others looking at him and I'm guessing he's never sure if it's about the eye or if his scars are unappealing to them. For someone who does care about appearances, whose job it is to talk to High Lords and make friends to be a successful emissary, there is definitely an inner discomfort he's trying to brush off through his nonchalance and jokes about his appearance. I think you're right. Elain is beautiful to the point that people talk. Eris somehow heard across courts that Lucien's mate is a real beauty. She had heiresses jealous of her at barely thirteen. Her mother commented that if her beauty held, she'd be able to secure them a decent match on the marriage market (Elain was 11). So Lucien comes along and not only is he given this super special, sacred bond with her but she turns out to be the most beautiful female he'd ever seen all while knowing that she's in love with someone else. And there he is, with no home, no family name, a scar running down his face and one eye. I would take Lucien in a second and we know that many in the ACOTAR world reference his good looks but you can see how he would struggle with his appearance. You can see how Elain literally took his breath away and she did not seem effected by him (I imagine we'll find out that wasn't the truth in her POV but it's how he perceived it at the time). He thinks she doesn't want him or need him and I definitely think we're going to find that he's been feeling very insecure about her perception of his physical appearance.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

I'm kinda sad, guys. Completely off-topic super-long rant incoming, feel free/encouraged to disregard.

So basically, I managed to get in on a paid month-long trial of an eczema face cream in exchange for feedback. Honestly didn't even care about being paid, I was just in desperation for my face to not feel all scaley and shit anymore (seborrheic dermatitis is a fcking bitch, and it's even worse in a humid climate and GUESS WHAT THE CLIMATE IS LIKE HERE FOR MOST OF THE YEAR HAHAHA) and have been willing to try literally anything for some time.

Well, anything except steroid creams. I refuse. I did it once, it made it worse, never ever again. And I stfg that's ALL that dermatologists want to hand out for this type of eczema, despite glaring evidence that even if it works temporarily, it creates even worse problems down the line.

Sebhorric dermatitis presents with similar symptoms to psoriasis, and tends to present its symptoms around the face, neck, ears, and scalp. Liken it to really terrible dandruff that can cover your entire face. Scrubbing it off just leaves redness and itchy/painful open wounds. It's impossible to cover with make-up. It's at its worst in the humid summer months. I have to consistently use more than five products twice a day in the spring/summer/fall just to keep it under control enough to not be noticeable to anyone but me. And I'm already really bad at being consistent when it comes to self-care.

Enter this stupid fucking trial cream. This shit with its lack of labeling and mysterious code.

I had to agree to stop using all other products except my regular facial cleanser to make sure my feedback was accurate to this one product, okay. No other lotions or toners or face masks or anything. Use this stuff twice a day to once every other day, give weekly feedback for the duration of a month. ALL I know about it, is it isn't steroid based. I was in the middle of a very bad breakout when it arrived in the mail. I had scales of dry skin on my fucking eyelids. It literally hurt to blink. It was awful.

I'm almost two weeks in and my skin has not felt or looked this amazing since before I hit fucking puberty. I noticed a difference literally the first time I put the shit on. The dry flakes essentially just melted off and didn't come back. I actually cried a little out of pure shock and happiness.

I'm almost halfway through the month and absolutely no sign of any negative side effects. No acne, no oiliness, no rashes, no dryness, no inflammation, nothing. It doesn't have any weird smell or leave any weird residue, absorbs in less than a minute. Just...genuinely clear skin with no issues at all for the first time since I was a literal child. I've still got a little redness around my cheeks, chin, and nose (which I've had since the eczema first started to flare up in my late teens), but even that's beginning to fade.

Aaaaaand since it's a trial, I don't know the product name. Which means once it's gone, it's gone.

I'm hoping taking part in the trial means I'll have the opportunity to find out about it and purchase it in the future, but I have this horrible sinking feeling it's going to be far beyond my price range. You know, test it out on the normies to make sure it works, then slap an astronomical price tag on it to market it to the rich and influential. I just know that's where this is going and I hate it.

It is nice having good skin for the first time since I was like...twelve. And even nicer only having to use a tiny bit of this one single face cream once every other day, and not having to worry about my skin screaming in protest if I happen to forget/skip a day or two (which I have done, again I suck at consistent self-care).

But the knowledge that it's probably only going to last for as long as this tiny little magical unlabeled bottle lasts...makes me so so very sad.

[featheredclover]

For the historical AU- courtesy: @arshifiesta , @hand-picked-star , @phuljari

I present ' Carmine Veils' a SS.

Can also be read on Wattpad.

Chapter One

Next chapter

The smoke rose up with a menacing roar. The remains of houses were still burning with a light, visible miles away. Tapping his gun against his knee, Babu gathered his accomplices around him. They had burnt a whole village today. Some had managed to escape despite their vigilance.

“ Shabash! Not even a single stable was spared! And don’t be disheartened that a few escaped. They will make sure that buffoon Shashidhar realises our worth”

A meek young boy of seventeen spoke out “ Babu bhai, what do we really want from the ki- Shashidhar?”

“ Money in return of peace to his kingdom “

In that moment, the mask slipped and revealed the greed in his eyes.

The night had lost its warmth. Babu had his sights on the throne and everything it kept dear.

- - - - - -

Chandragupta hurried towards the king’s chambers. He clutched the letter tighter in his hand.

It couldn’t be. The king couldn’t have already given orders. He hoped desperately for some delay.

Shashidhar sat hunched over pieces of paper.

Without glancing up, he called out “ Bolo, Chandragupta. Have you decided to stop speaking to me as well?”

Chandragupta felt his lips twitch, but managed to reply.

“ Let go of those papers Maharaj, I have got the best one for you”

Shashi raised an eyebrow “ You seem awfully sure”

Without a word, he offered Shashi the letter.

A few minutes passed by, where only the swish of the windchimes was heard in the room.

“ Go ahead “, Shashi said, his face betrayed by only a glimpse of hope in his eyes.

Chandragupta smiled back and took his leave.

——————

She lightly stroked the kitten as it purred. Her other hand held a book, shielding her from the glare of the sun.

Payal’s scream reached her ears moments before her anklets.

“ Khushi! Didn’t you hear me? The new guard is here! And he is so dreamy! Lavanya met him and she had the audacity to flirt with him. Can you imagine? Haw! Why are you still reading that book? Your dashing bodyguard is here!”

Khushi shut her eyes and attempted to control her fury. She was a sensible girl. Payal was not to be blamed, neither was Lavanya. Neither was this guard her father had hired. She grudgingly admitted to herself.

But her father? He had to be blamed.

It had been two weeks since she had been told her wings were going to be clipped. She could no longer go with her friends to the market, climb trees to eat fruits or steal some time away by swimming in the river.This new guard will keep her safe from the threat of the rioters.

Why couldn’t her father understand that she was more than capable of handling herself? He had trained her himself since she was 8 and from the past few years he even brought the famed warrior Manorama to teach her the art of war. But the attacks had put everyone on the edge and she will have to suffer for it now. She wished for one of the rioters to show up in front of her now, a slice of her sword would do the job before he had time to blink.

“ Greetings rajkumari “

Khushi felt her heart thump. She sat up inelegantly as she realised she had failed to realise when Payal had made herself scarce and this tall man wrapped in white robes had entered her chamber.

She froze.

The white turban sat regally on his head. A white scarf covered his face, leaving only his eyes for her to gauge him from. She had never seen this perfect shade of brown on anyone, she wondered absently. She had heard poems describe such eyes and suddenly it was imperative that she see him.

She stood on shaky legs, walking towards him.

Her hand rose to free the white scarf from his face.

She stopped breathing.

The facial structure was remarkable. His nose was textbook patrician. Something stopped her from detailing his features further.

Embarrassed now that she had not even addressed his greeting. Rather she had attacked the scarf on his face, she took a hasty step back.

“ Arnav Singh at your service, rajkumari”

He spoke again. And then he smiled.

Khushi forgot her own name.

Chapter Two

[msunitedstatesjames]

Frances Hardinge is a criminally underrated author. If you've never heard of her, I'm not surprised. Even though I'm in several fantasy book groups on Facebook with thousands of members, I've only ever seen one or two other members post about her. And yet, since I first read one of her books in 2020, I've bought every book she's published and read most of them.

Frances Hardinge, for those who've missed out, writes fantasy young adult books. Her books are extremely well written, romance free, unfailingly unique, and somewhat dark, all of which are qualities I find to be more and more rare in today's YA fantasy market (not to hate on YA, I've read tons of it). If you need a comparison, I would say aspects of her books remind me of YA/middle grade books by T. Kingfisher or Neil Gaiman.

If I haven't convinced you yet, here's a little preview of some of her books that I've read:

A Face Like Glass (my personal favorite): A girl named Neverfell lives in a world where people have to be taught how to show emotion in their facial expressions. She has to wear a mask at all times because, mysteriously, she naturally shows facial expressions and if people found out they would freak. If that's not unique enough, this society is underground and produces magical artisinal goods, such as cheeses, wines, and perfumes that can do some wild things. If that still hasn't convinced you, the book critiques the privelege of the wealthy, as in this world only the rich can afford to hire Facesmiths to teach them expression, while the poor languish along with one or two facial expressions for their entire lives.

Fly by Night and Fly Trap (these might have different titles depending on where you are in the world): In a world where reading is illegal and seen as revolutionary activity, Mosca Mye escapes her awful life with her aunt and uncle by forcing an infamous conman (Eponymous Clent, this world has cool naming conventions) to take her under his wing. Joining them is Mosca's only friend, Saracen, the murderous goose. Yeah, you read that right. Highlights of the series include a heartwarming found family tale, an accidental revolution, a city that literally changes its population, personality, and shape when day changes to night, and, of course, an extremely violent goose. I mean, if you've read Pratchett, Saracen the goose is basically the Luggage. There's more than one scene in these books where all hope seems lost, and Mosca is like, "I guess it's up to you now Saracen," and she just straight up lobs her goose at the enemy and he utterly wrecks their shit. If I recall correctly, this happens once during a pitched river boat battle over an illegal printing press.

The Lie Tree: Faith's father, who refused to recognize her potential as a scientist, mysteriously dies. Faith discovers a tree he kept hidden that grows when you tell lies and reveals secrets in its fruit. The bigger the lie you tell the world, the bigger the secret that will be revealed. You can imagine the chaos that eventually ensues. This book critiques gender roles and discrimination, and tackles both the dangers and the necessity of telling lies.

Cuckoo Song: When Triss wakes up after apparently falling in a lake, everything seems wrong. She's missing memories, she has an insatiable hunger, dead leaves are mysteriously appearing in her room, and her sister claims she's a monster. Triss must piece together what's happening to her before it's too late. This book deals with the complexities of life with overbearing parents, siblings who've been pitted against one another, and families that have been torn apart by tragedy.

Verdigris Deep (another one that goes by different titles): A group of friends are cursed by a well witch after they take some coins from her well. She forces them to work for her by granting her wishes. Working with the witch gives them powers, but the wishes are getting increasingly complex. Does that guy really want a motorcycle or does he want to be someone else? And if he wants to be someone else, does that mean what he really wants is not to exist at all? This book deals with issues of self worth, power and control, and toxic friendships.

She has a bunch of other great books as well. So if you're looking for a unique fantasy story with adventure and no romance, definitely check some of Frances Hardinge's books out!

[tiny-merkitty]

caretaker/dad jonathan crane hcs 𓅨₊˚⊹

ⓘ i do not consent to k!nk interaction! any nsfw account that likes, reblogs, or in any way interacts with this post or my blog will be blocked and reported.

under the cut !

okay to preface, batman begins is set in the mid-2000s therefore these hcs are set in the mid-2000s

whether or not that's important is irrelevant it's for the vibes. its 2005 ok

needless to say Jonathan Crane is on the less outwardly affectionate side,

sterile is a bad word. vapid is a worse one

he definitely tries to ease up around you, initially giving the usual one-off remarks and eyerolls whenever anything went slightly array——

once he realized that was probably not the nicest thing in the world, he tended to keep his tone less flat. sort of.

definitely a learning experience, after awhile you both have to realize that despite him looking like he's trying to set you on fire with his mind, he is genuinely being nice most of the time. or at least neutral.

he takes a big priority in ensuring you're doing well though, while his attachment doesn't show through words or facial expressions he tries to come up through gifts and small acts.

whether it be making you every meal or washing your clothes or doing your hair, his presence is almost always joined by careful hands and a quiet voice,

he did have to teach himself to keep things you actually liked in his office though—

Jonathan learned quickly that sugar free gum and altoids are not an appropriate snack for a kid cooped up in the psychiatric asylum he's busy working at.

he's not clueless with kids though, in all fairness he read about fifty different blog posts. he also got marketed a multitude of sippy cups and blankets and maybe a piece of furniture but that's unrelated

he can come off as a little crass as previously mentioned, he'll word things carefully and speak gently but if he says bedtime at 8pm he means bedtime at 8pm and no later.

maybe a little later if you ask him to make you hot chocolate but 8:30 at the latest.

maybe 8:45

his parenting methods are on the strange and unusual side, given that he himself is on the strange and unusual side—

having nightmares? don't worry, Dr. Crane will make vague threats at the imaginary monsters and claim he can create things five times worse. sleep tight ??

breakfast!! this pancake is shaped like. a rorschach test

don't ask him about work he will keep that as far away as possible from you,

the extent of the last question he got was 'I work with sick people.' and then he continued drinking whatever mixture of too-much-espresso and soy milk was in his mug.

it's not that he doesn't trust you, per say, but he doesn't want you meddling with things that will more than likely harm you.

definitely huge on alot. alot of self care stuff .

have you seen his face there's no way he's not pouring at least a quarter of his paycheck into skincare

this extends to you of course, extremely overly fancy bathtimes with matcha bubble bath and overpriced baby lotion,

candles that are up high enough to not!!! be a fire hazard. little lavender sprays for your pillow,

he'll even do those vaguely scary looking animal themed sheet face masks with you

he's not a sad beige mom. leave him alone he's just pretentious

his favorite activities with you involve staying indoors,

usually crumpled under a pile of blankets with store bought cookies and whatever movie you picked out to watch,

blu ray. obviously. do you take him for someone who does not own a blu ray player (he didn't until last week)

he likes things that are intellectually stimulating for you as well, whether that be numbered blocks or simple puzzles,

he's always around to tell you that you did a good job, or to help if you're stuck on something,

very involved overall -- he doesn't do great with playing pretend but he'll wear colorful band-aids and sit on the floor if you want to play doctor,

Jonathan's life before was somewhat methodical outside of his other ....... escapades

you're a welcome addition and if anything he enjoys having someone to look after.

[chaoticbardlady99]

Floozy (Astarion x F! OC)

Chapter 1: Cat and Mouse

Synopsis: Imogen finally feels comfortable enough to go to the Flaming Fists to report Astarion after several regular clients of hers go missing. Imogen improvises to survive the Nautiloid in spite of being told she won't.

Content Warning: Violent imagery, sexual imagery, promiscious, mentions of sex work, the title is applicable to the story I promise, low self-esteem, homelessness, parental drug use, child neglect, eventual fake dating, Cazasnore makes an appearance, kidnapping

AO3

“Well, hello, Darling,” a man muses, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before.”

   Imogen slowly turns around and is met with semi-glowing red eyes, a gorgeous face, and an even more awe inspiring smile. She eyes him suspiciously and he looks taken aback. 

 “You must not be very observant then,” she says in a cold voice, “I work here four days a week.” 

  “Really? A woman as beautiful as yourself? Working in Sharess’ Caress?” the man says with feigned disbelief all over his face, “do your clients know they are lucky enough to be in the presence of a Goddess?” 

 He’s fucking with me- I just know it.

 “They did,” she states, “until you took all my regulars and did Gods only knows what with them.” 

     The mask he was wearing shatters- hard. The sheer panic on his face is enough for Imogen to know that her suspicions are correct- her regulars are no longer walking this earthly plane. She turns on her heel- leaving the beautiful man in a storm of terror. 

 She had been onto him for months now and his face alone is enough for her to tell the woman at the front that she will be back. If he’s murdering people, then he needs to be stopped. She needs money- she can’t have every regular she has die on her and now that he seems to have moved onto her, well…

  Imogen looks up and down the street for a Flaming Fist- the night sky is bright with moonlight and there are masses of people walking around. She let’s out a huff of frustration when she realizes it’s going to be significantly harder to find a Flaming Fist than she thought. 

   Pushing through the crowd and occasionally having some handsy man or woman grab at her in her skimpy outfit, Imogen finally finds a Flaming Fist guarding the gate into the Lower City. A sigh of relief leaves her body, but then someone is pulling her aggressively into an alleyway- if anyone notices, no one follows them. 

 “Pain in my fucking ass,” the man from earlier snarls before turning on you, “what do you think you’re doing?”

 “What do you think you’re doing?” she shoots back.

  The two are staring at each other with equal amounts of contempt and venom, but Imogen sees an excruciating amount of fear in his eyes as he peers down at her.

 “You need to come with me.”

 “Absolutely not,” she scoffs, “I know for a fact that you kill every person you take home- I’ve been watching you for months. I just needed a direct confession and your facial expression is more than eno-”

  He slams her up against the wall and Imogen gasps- whether out of fear or arousal, she can’t be entirely sure. His cologne fills her senses and he is positively magnetic. He smirks at her while leering back.

“Darling,” he says through gritted teeth, “I’m not the one who does the killing.”

 She searches his face for any signs of deception and is utterly surprised when she doesn’t find any. Imogen’s face softens, much to both of their surprises. She’s actually not that tough of a person, she had just practiced that speech so many times in the washroom that it was second nature. She is far more passive- the one men and women enjoy fucking as hard as they can because she’s been marketed as “being able to take it”. 

 She couldn’t, not really, but she needed the money to survive so she took it. 

  The fear in his eyes- it’s not because of her telling the Flaming Fists. He’s afraid of another entity entirely. Who, what, or why- she doesn’t know, but it would be remiss of her to not offer to help in any way she can. 

 “Is there anything I can do to help you?” she pleads, “we could go to the Flaming Fists together- you don’t have to-”

“No,” he hisses, “I can’t do that. You can help me by coming with me.”

 “I can’t do that.”

 “I know,” he says through a choked whisper. 

   His hands are suddenly around her neck and she’s struggling to breathe. She looks at him with pleading eyes and notices his own eyes are even brighter now.

 “It’s always such a shame when cattle won’t listen. Don’t you agree, Astarion?”

  A voice from further down the alleyway causes her to begin fighting back harder and she immediately recognizes the man- Cazador Szarr. For whatever reason, that doesn’t surprise her. He’s always been kind of off putting, weird, and sadistic when any of her clients invite her to attend a soiree with them (paid, of course). Everyone else is charmed by him, but Imogen knows better. 

 The man, Astarion nods his head, but his eyes are looking at her as if to communicate that he is sorry. That he did not want to have to do this to her and that she was just unlucky enough to have crossed his path tonight. 

 Tears begin to fall down her face and she focuses on Astarion as Cazador begins walking towards them. Her heart races and she feels all the hairs stand up along her neck and arms. He is going to kill her- she can see it in his eyes and she begins to sob harder as he strokes her cheek and forces her eyes to look into his. 

 He looks hungry. 

 She whimpers in fear and he smiles darkly- massive canines peeking out from underneath his lips. Imogen begins to realize there may be worse things than death. What if this man does what he did to Astarion to her? She doesn’t want to murder people.

 “Aren’t you a delicious little thing,” Cazador says, his hands trailing down the front of her chest, brushing one of her nipples before gripping her breast through the fabric, “I have a feeling we are going to have a lot of fun together.”

  Tears go rolling down her face even faster now. Cazador begins to slowly undress her by untying the back of her dress. Astarion’s hands begin to tighten again around her throat, her airway more closed now than it was before. She puts her hands on his wrists and pleads with him in her mind to fight whatever this is, don’t kill her- please. 

  Except the situation quickly gets worse. 

 A mind flayer comes up from behind Cazador- he barely catches the invasion in time and the man disappears into a cloud of red mist and Astarion drops her to the ground when the Mindflayer grabs him, another one coming out from the shadows towards Imogen. 

 She weakly tries to get up, but it’s no use- she is too weak and delirious to successfully get away and she’s forced to give in. Astarion is screaming and trying to attack the creature clinging onto him- the screaming stops abruptly and Astarion drops like a dead weight on the ground.

 Imogen can’t decide if she just has terrible luck or if she just needs to get the fuck out of Baldur’s Gate already. She doesn’t fight the Mindflayer like Astarion did, but suddenly, she’s floating off into space- the world no longer privy of her and her no longer privy to the world.

         *************************************************************************

 When she wakes up again- she’s in an entirely different place and the smell of Sulfur assaults her nose as her pod opens. Imogen gingerly jumps out and looks around- grateful when she sees something resembling a door. She fights the vomit that crawls up her throat when she sees that the door is made of some kind of flesh.

 Thankfully, it opens without her assistance and she steps inside with gentle footsteps, remaining along the edge of the room until she is certain that no one else is in there but the strange voice from the floor above. 

  The elevator system is actually pretty neat, but coming across a brain talking to her as a man looks up at her does actually make her begin coughing up bile and shaking. She gets up, scrambling to run down the path leading away from the grotesque sight.

 “NO! Please SAVE US!”

  “I’m sorry!” she yells back, “but I promise I would if I thought I could stomach it!” 

“PLEASE!!!!”

 The plea was desperate and it pulls at her heart strings. Imogen stops and begrudgingly trudges backwards- putting her fingers into the skull. 

   Gods, this is disgusting!

     One of her fingers accidentally slips into the brain and she has to suppress the gag threatening to leave her throat. She doesn’t want to alarm the poor thing.

 It pops out and walks around for a bit, before looking at her? Imogen isn’t really sure, but ‘Us’ decides to join her on this little adventure.

     The hot air and sulfur is all consuming- Imogen feels dizzy. This is all too much and she’s probably going to die. Whether it be by turning into a Mindflayer or being killed by someone else- she’s not sure if she has a preference anymore. She just wants the hell out of the Hells. 

  As if on cue, a sword is thrusted into her face and a creature from a race she has never seen in her life is staring at her. Imogen nearly falls backwards from trying to get away, but thankfully they reach a mutual understanding.

 “We need to kill the Imps,” she states as if that’s the easiest thing in the world, “then we will find a cure on the Material Plane.” 

  Imogen feels herself go as white as a sheet and the woman cocks her head at her.

 “What is it, istik?” 

  “I-I don’t know how to fight,” she admits.

  The woman blinks at her a few times before she begins to walk away.

 “Wait- don’t leave me here!”

 “You are of no use to me,” she spat, “unable to fight- Vlaakith preserve me. It will be a miracle if you survive any of this at all.” 

  Imogen swallows thickly and doesn’t argue with her- instead, she follows behind her and stays out of sight while she fights the imps. Us stays nearby, remaining her loyal, weird pet companion. 

  Imogen will let her do the heavy lifting and clear the path ahead. There has to be a way out and Imogen is determined to find it. She is not going to die here.

  After the woman climbs up the disgusting looking nets and disappears, Imogen walks over to one of the corpses that is wearing a robe. 

  Imogen looks down at her current outfit and then at the robe. She’s going to have to change. No one is going to take her seriously dressed like this and she needs at least something to attempt to defend herself with. 

  “I am so so sorry,” she says to the poor man she’s stripping, his eyes glassy with death, “I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have to- I hope you can forgive me.” 

  The robe is far too large on her shorter frame and it’s rather loose. It sits awkwardly on the curve of her hips, breasts, and ass. She groans- this is going just sooooo well already. 

   She takes the dagger and cuts the robe to her knees and the arms until they are at her elbows. Sticking the dagger in her makeshift belt (fashioned out of her previous outfit). The next body she finds thankfully has a pair of boots that are her size so she discards her sandals and shoves her feet into the poor dead person’s shoes- once again apologizing profusely for messing with them in death. 

  The next climb is not nearly as disgusting now that her feet are covered and she is expecting the odd texture under her hands. Imogen finds that she’s actually a lot stronger than she realized- she’s not even breaking a sweat. Sex is apparently excellent exercise. 

  She’s met, once again, with a room decorated in gore, except this time, there is a woman screaming and yelling as she slams her hands against the glass. Imogen races over and the woman looks relieved.

 “Oh thank the Gods,” she breathes, “please help me- the other survivor, she left and she’s already working on taking down the ship.”

  Wonderful.

 “Do you know what they used to close you in in the first place?”

   Imogen can tell the woman is struggling to calm down enough to think clearly. 

 “Hey, look at me,” Imogen says softly, the woman looks at her on the verge of tears, “I’m not leaving you here to die alone, if you die, I die- breathe. Tell me what you remember.” 

Imogen goes in the direction the woman gestured to and begins searching through the pockets of the dead- there’s another person in here, but unfortunately- they are a Mindflayer now. That one woman must have wandered in here thinking this was the way to the Helm.  

  A stone-like object is warm and pulsing in her hand as if it’s come to life. This must be the key that is missing in the console. 

 She sprints back this time and holds up the rune as she runs over- the woman cheers in relief and Imogen quickly releases her from her prison. Imogen wants to know why she specifically felt like she had authority over the console to control it, but figuring out all of this nonsense is going to have to wait. 

 “Thank you,” she says, “you have no idea how grateful I am for you right now.”

  Imogen smiles, “no problem- I’m Imogen and this is Us.”

  The woman eyes the creature with uncertainty, but decides it’s not worth questioning. 

 “Shadowheart,” she says while walking back to the pod, grabbing something.

  Imogen decides she doesn’t care- as long as this woman is willing to help her get out of here and back to Baldur’s Gate so she can say goodbye to her home and move the hell away, she can do whatever she wants. 

  The ship lurches suddenly and both of them go flying across the room- being thrown all the way to the opening Imogen came from. Both parties scream in terror as they watch the ground get closer and closer. 

 The ship’s descent and gravity force Imogen’s grip to release. Shadowheart tries to grab her and their fingers merely brush. Imogen free falls- the ground coming closer and closer as she braces herself for her death. 

 Only it never comes- a woman stands in front of her with a smile before Imogen unceremoniously drops to the ground. Her battered body begs for sleep and she gives in- hoping no more tragedies will be brought upon her so she can finally rest.

[crazylittlejester]

since it’s almost Hyrule Warriors anniversary…do you have any lttc warriors facts you’d like to share 🤲 also I’m going to draw him as part of my drawing links from different links meets thing I do for each game’s anniversary. It will happen I promise you so uh. idk if you have additional facial descriptors for him that you left in the other posts 🤲 but I’m pretty sure I can draw him accurately enough with the information already provided 👍 anyways, hope you have a good rest of your day!

OH BOY A CHANCE TO YAP ABOUT MY BLORBO!!!!!!

- Zelda keeps trying to promote him and he keeps refusing and she’s so frustrated by it, but he refuses to accept a promotion for something he doesn’t believe he accomplished

- He genuinely thinks he’s so sneaky with the lifts he has in his boots, he’s genuinely convinced no one knows

- Proxi can acknowledge how much he’s grown, but she still sees him as her wet cat son who just desperately needed someone to look out for him. She’s very proud of him, but she still thinks he’s ridiculous

- It took him a hot minute to become fluent enough in ‘hyrulian common’ (english) to be able to understand fast conversations with slang in them and to be able to speak back and converse with other soldiers at that level because it’s not his first language (this is why he sometimes stares at people with an incredibly blank expression during the war, he doesn’t always understand what they’re saying). Proxi continued to speak on his behalf until he’d perfected a castle town accent as well because he didn’t want anyone knowing he didn’t grow up within Hyrule kingdom

-Regularly abuses the fact that the general public has a certain image of him in their minds, and when he does not meet that image he can literally walk around wherever the hell he wants without being recognized and it’s so good for his mental health. He’s still paranoid and worried, but people just don’t recognize him because they hear all the tales of a strong, confident young man and Warriors is actually fairly quiet and comes off as a bit shy, plus people just aren’t expecting the hero to randomly be walking around on his own. Without the make up, fancy clothes, and boots and all that, he can just walk around markets like a normal person, and without the green tunic, Mask can too. So he’d pretty regularly just take Mask around towns to buy sweet treats and they both got to experience what it might’ve been like for an eighteen year old to shop with his little brother

- During the war, he and Ravio got quite close. They’re a dangerous combination and make each other worse

- He and his Zelda are incredibly close, they’re extremely good friends and they like to get together every so often and just YAP

also for any additional descriptors: LTTC Wars looks pretty much exactly like how I headcanon LU Wars. He was deadass created from You’re A Part Of Me Wars when I one day sat back and went “oh my god at this point I’ve just made my own guy-” the main difference between LTTC Wars and You’re A Part Of Me Wars is that LTTC Wars grew up outside of Hyrule Kingdom surrounded by a different culture and he struggled a lot more with a language barrier when he went to Castle Town (while my version of LU Wars grew up IN Hyrule Kingdom and had to struggle with learning his mom’s side of the family’s culture while being unable to fully interact with it), and a few details of the war. But physically they’re the same guy, so my pfp pic could be used as an additional ref if you needed :) THANK YOU FOR DRAWING MY GUY I LOVE HIM VERY MUCH

i love to stick lttc wars and you’re a part of me wars in a room and see what happens, they’d both hate it but I think theyd have so much to say

[generic-whumperz]

Waylon (Character sheet)

Picrew

Playlist | Masterlist | Character Info

Wyatt’s older brother and Eleanor’s and Waylon Sr.’s crowned golden child, Waylon Jr. (Lon), is a cunning businessman with a folksy “cowboy Don” exterior who has climbed his way to the top of Apocamerica's underworld. Masking behind a stoic demeanor lies a ruthless opportunist who will stop at nothing to maintain power and control, sight set on building an empire through tactical manipulation and calculated brutality. A master of playing all sides, he uses his charm and wit to get what he wants. Waylon's loyalty and protection are renowned but conditional, and he'll discard anyone who becomes a liability. Nevertheless, he has a deep sense of fidelity to his close circle of those he cares about, but good luck on peeling back his multi-layered façade to reveal his complex web of allegiances that crown him as leader of the remaining free world. His bond with his younger cousin Vinny is unbreakable–Vinny selflessly often acts as the mediator between Waylon and Wyatt.

Meanwhile, Waylon's circumstantial partnership with The Aid—whom he sees as a vital asset in his quest for power—has been a double-edged sword. The Aid’s insights grant him an unparalleled advantage but ensnare him in a cycle of violence, deceit, and jealousy with his business associates. His relationship with Wyatt has been fraught with tension since childhood. He struggles to reconcile their glaring differences–made all the worse by Wyatt’s persistent abuse of Waylon’s most coveted advisor–The Aid.

Full name: Waylon Hugo Weston Sullivan Jr. (Lon)

Role: tertiary antagonist, Whumper, Wyatt's foil character

Date of Birth & sign: January 18, 1972 (60), Capricorn (story takes place in the year 2032)

Gender: cis-male

Sexuality: hetero

Height: 6'4"

Weight/body type/build: 60-year-old dad bod, tall, board-shouldered, barrel-chested, built like a linebacker. Don’t make me guess weight…idk, like 280lbs-ish?

Hometown: San Diego, CA

Family Members: Sullivan family tree. Devoted husband and family man and has four children. Oldest sibling out of the Sullivan trio, the only brother with a relationship with his and Wyatt’s younger sister, Winny. Lives with his wife and two youngest kids—Emma (13) and Waylon Ⅲ (AKA Lonnie) (11). Eldest daughter, Rachel (29), is his protégé groomed to take over the business and engaged to the Governor’s son. Second eldest daughter, Taylor (24), is in and out of rehab.

Left/right handed: right

Fav genre of music & anthem: oldies, especially classic country. Doggone Cowboy by Marty Robbins

Occupation: head of the family-owned livestock farm, Oasis Farms, and the Sullivan and Bellmont fortune beneficiary. While Wyatt received The Aid after Eleanor's passing, Waylon received more responsibility and Eleanor's running business contracts. Although he runs a legitimate business, he also deals in illegal, black market slave trade and labor and business racketeering. He is part of a cabal of business associates that have taken over the resource and trade markets of Apocamerica. He's become politically and professionally advantageous despite his desire for retirement to maintain his family's standing. He attributes a fair amount of his success to The Aid's involvement and cooperation in weeding out untrustworthy and scheming (ex)partners that were out for the Sullivans’ spot as top distributors of meat and produce. He's in the trenches of organized crime and has taken on the role of something akin to a Mafia boss or Don. While he enjoys the power and status, deep down, he just wishes he was out on the ranch competing in rodeo events. Valedictorian, Harvard Alumni, business and economics major.

Ethnicity (+ American): Italian, French, Greek, North and West European, English

Hair color & length: silver fox. Was a dirty blonde when he was younger, but now he's sporting a full head of gray. Cut short, longer on the top, and brushed to the side. Facial hair: has a full, nicely groomed beard. Body hair: on the hairier side with chest hair.

Hygiene: excellent hygiene. Meticulously groomed. Skincare king who is not afraid to pamper himself. You will not catch him looking sloppy or underdressed. He lives to impress his wife and be the best-dressed and best-smelling man in every room he enters.

Eye color: deep-set, almond-shaped, sapphire blue eyes. Wears contacts and readers. Has a severe, unflinching stare that can turn into a scowl just as quickly as a smile.

Skin tone: peachy, neutral undertones. Moisturizing king, skin is glowing.

Facial features: rectangle-shaped head with a high dome. Thin, bow-shaped lips. Fleshy nose. Bushy but well-manicured and sculpted arched brows. Ears. Heavy jaw, rounded protruding chin. Regularly gets "natural looking" Botox injections to erase his face lines and fill in any sagging. Broad-lobed ears.

Mannerisms: he keeps his cards close to his chest and doesn't reveal much. He's a very still and impassive guy with minimal mannerisms and only makes calculated moves. One could argue that's a mannerism of its own right. Moves with an air of confidence. Employs slower and more fluid movements to convey that things happen on his terms when he wants them to. Steeples hands when thinking. Maintains eye contact. Holds head high. He walks with confidence and determination, his arms either fixed at his side or clasped behind his back. Maintains a stoic expression with little to no smiling; most you get is a smirk. Doesn't laugh a lot. Has a dry sense of humor that is easily missed. Figure-4 leg cross when seated. Generally unapproachable. Very hard person to read and gauge.

Nervous ticks: doesn't get nervous

Posture: relaxed and straight in a way that lets you know he's comfortable and in control.

Style: old-school gentleman vibes. Lots of dry-cleaned Dior suits, imported cashmere and vicuña wool sweaters, and diamond-encrusted cufflinks. He looks forward to events where he gets to pull out a Dolce & Gabbana 3-piece suit. He is very concerned with looks and first impressions. Lets his wife dress him. (Spent too much time picking out The Aid’s wardrobe with Eleanor and was very hands-on with The Aid’s introduction into the family…had to sus him out, as any good son would, of course).

Health: very healthy with no ailments or allergies. Eats well-balanced meals and exercises regularly (easier when you have personal chefs and a personal trainer). Doesn't drink or smoke often but will partake socially and will enjoy a cigar from time to time. Doesn't do hard drugs and is anti-junk food. Takes a shit ton of vitamins. Says living a mostly stress-free life is the secret (again, easy to say when you have a whole house staff and a whole team under you doing the leg work). Started to get arthritis but changed over to an anti-inflammatory diet and eating edibles to manage the pain.

Piercings/tattoos: nada

Birthmarks/scars: has a birthmark on his left shoulder blade but has gotten every scar lasered off with dermal regenerator treatments.

Language(s): English, some Italian, some Spanish, some Russian, some German, some French

Personality: controlling. Intelligent. Natural leader. Paternal. Subtly condescending (but obviously patronizing to Wyatt). Responsible. Prideful. Vain. Disciplined. Judgmental. Provider. Classy. Vengeful. Greedy. Possessive and protective. Organized. Narcissistic. Careful. Considerate. Calm and collected. Focused. Thoughtful. Educated. Charismatic. Confident. Honest. Efficient. Fearless. Logical. Polite, respectful, and mannered (and expects to be treated the same back). Observant. Comes across as emotionless and cold-hearted as he’s not expressive (tough shell to crack and a hard person to read). Sociable. Wise. Sincere. Decisive. Devoted. Conscientious. Independent. Perfectionist. Direct. Reserved. Rivals regard him as arrogant and smug. Well-read.

Vices: shooting practice, spending time with his horses, and taking his kids to the family ranch (he just wants to decompress with his family). Date night with his wife. Drinks occasionally. Enjoys a pipe of packed weed.

Voice: speaks with authority, voice rings modulated and smoky. Everything he says has more than one meaning. Tends to talk in riddles and rhymes but is still straight to the point. He is a man of few words when he's not ranting to Vinny or spewing aphorisms at Wyatt.

Smells like: CLEAN. Signature scent—Sauvage Dior cologne (fragrance profile below for other weirdos like me who are way too into scents). Black tourmaline and musk vibes.

Face claim(s): Bill Pullman

Character inspiration: Tywin Lannister (GOT), Detective Harry Ambrose (The Sinner), Kingpin/Wilson Fisk (Daredevil—TV series), most villain roles played by Harvey Keitel and Christoph Waltz

Other: Admittedly, Waylon is my favorite Sullivan, despite Wyatt taking center stage as The Aid's antagonist and rival. Don't let his lack of trigger warnings fool you—Lon is just as deadly, if not more so, than his younger brother. Waylon is a force to be reckoned with, making cold and calculated kills without breaking a sweat or getting a speck of blood on his suit. Cross him or his family, and he'll make you dig your own grave while confessing your sins—all while he watches emotionless with a solemn glare, executioner-style. And if you're lucky, your family might survive...but don't count on it. In typical Sullivan fashion, Waylon has a perverse relationship with The Aid, taking advantage of The Aid's desire to serve a greater purpose and gain the respect and admiration of Eleanor's favorite son in exchange for his psychic abilities.

Moodboards: where he is ~vs~ where he wants to be

[jacqcrisis]

During the height of the pandemic, when the credit union I work at unlocked their lobbies again with strict mask mandates, we had one guy come in named Jeff. He was wearing a certain red hat and no mask. My coworker asked him to wear a mask and he said he couldn't. My manager came out and offered a face shield instead, and he said he couldn't wear that either.

After some back and forth, my manager said we couldn't help him without some form of facial protection and he would need to use the drive thru for all banking needs. Jeff immediately threw a tantrum about how this country is falling into communism and left to use our drive (aka bother me angrily). Thus, for two years, he was known as Communist Jeff until he stopped showing up to cash checks and we kind of forgot about him.

Imagine my shock when I'm in the subreddit for my city and I see a thread about how Communist Jeff's presence was being protested at the local farmer's market back in 2017 because he's an antisemitic white supremacist. And now he's back at the farmer's market and no one is happy about him and his red hat.

Amazing. I would've never guessed this asshole who made my work day awful every time he rolled up was a neo Nazi. My flabber is ghasted.

[lorewarden]

OC x Mother Koril: Part 1

@mask-knife-is-buggys-girl Thank you for the push! I haven't done any creative writing in years, been so stuck with the marketing BS I do for work. Then I got so excited that I had to start writing immediately after our brief messaging. Turns out I really needed this.

A quick note before we begin: I haven't read any of the High Republic novels/comics, so I'm mostly relying on my knowledge of Legends in terms of lore, plus a few minor additions. With that out of the way, let's go! Chapter 1 She's sitting in a corner of a noisy cantina, brown hood half-drawn. She was given to understand that Hutt Space was the ideal place to get lost in a crowd if one desired to do so - and although everything she's seen on Nar Shadaa so far seems to confirm that, she is still not entirely comfortable leaving her horns and dark facial tattoos on full display. Nobody here would look close enough to notice that said tattoos have a stark bluish tint, or that her eyes are perhaps a shade too bright. In this light and on this world, she should appear no different to a regular Iridonian Zabrak.

Mother Koril – just Koril now, she reprimands herself – has never seen so many species in a single place in her life. Or so many people, for that matter. Their sheer number in this smoky cantina equals that of her entire clan, and then some. Most are chattering in some guttural language, though she catches a word of Basic here and there, ever louder as more drinks are delivered to their tables. Koril herself is nursing a pink drink that she's determined to be nauseatingly sweet, but she lacks the willpower to summon a serving droid to order a different one.

Indeed, the sheer amount of... everything... in this place is offensive to the senses. And people come here for fun?, she thinks, glaring at the bubbles in her glass.

She's startled by two massive arms, one catching her shoulder and the other one gripping her chair. Koril jumps and punches at it, leaving a gray mass on the floor.

“Oi! What do you think you're doing?”

The creature is cursing unintelligibly, not looking at her, as its four hulking arms attempt to find purchase on the floor. It's trying to get up and failing miserably. It was an accident, she sighs. Another being whizzes past her, towards the gray mass, yelling “Hex! Are you ok?”

Koril is standing less than a foot away from them, not moving to help, but equally loath to leave her table. The Idiot's friend, a tall human woman, attempts to grab it by one of the arms and buckles under its weight.

“Drunken... son-of-a... bantha... last time, I swear...”, she mutters under her breath before ending up on the floor herself.

This time Koril does move, and helps the human upright with ease.

“Thank you”, she smiles appreciatively, “and sorry about him. He's -”

“Drunk, yes, I gathered,” Koril finishes her sentence, then tilts her head towards the Besalisk. “Can't help you there, though.”

Luckily, she does not need to, as he finally gives up and gracelessly crawls away without a second glance at them. The two bemusedly stare in his direction.

Suddenly remembering Koril is there, the human turns to face her. “Sorry about that. Did we spill your drink? I'll get you another one”, she says hastily.

“I wish you had spilled it,” Koril almost laughs. Almost. On a whim, she adds “But I'd love to try something else. Whatever you're having” and offers her a chair. The woman flashes an understanding smile, gestures at one of the droids, and takes the seat. “My name's Nita”, she extends her hand, and the two finally get a good look at each other.

She is fair-skinned with rectangular tattoos extending from her bottom lip, down her chin, ending on the throat just above her collarbone. Her face is mostly smooth – she appears to be in her late twenties or early thirties – but for three deep-set lines on her forehead. The mirth in her hazel eyes is sharply contrasted by heavy purple circles underneath them. With sharp cheekbones and dark hair, Koril thinks the woman could look very stern when cross.

As she takes Nita's hand, she thinks she sees a flash of recognition and amusement in her eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it came. End notes: So, this is set about a year after the events on Brendok. At the time of writing this, we still don't have the exact story of what happened there - I have my own theories, but I'd rather wait before putting them in the story. Since I don't yet know how many chapters I'll write, and it's gonna be a bit of a slow burn anyways, I figured that would be for the best at the moment. In my mind, Koril is in her late thirties, and Nita is 10 years her junior. Nita's tattoos are Mirialan (there's a reason for that). The Besalisk's name, Hex, is supposed to be reminiscent of Dex from Attack of the Clones, but with a witchy spin.

Hope you enjoyed this little meet-cute. It gets darker from here on out. NEXT CHAPTER