#alchemy metal wear

[oldschoolfrp]

Alchemy Metal-Wear by Rieder Design Ltd (ad in White Dwarf 70, October 1985). Rieder also produced a small line of 25mm fantasy miniatures, the "Dungeon Dwellers" mentioned in the lower left of this ad. Rieder sometimes misspelled their own name as "Reider," as seen in their address here. (previously)

[musicmags]

[townofcadence]

"I think you smell nice" he's not sure why he's whispering, but it feels too awkward to say it out loud- the Crow

Whisper in their Ear

"Oh--- uh---." Artair shudders at the soft words against his ear, but he recovers just as quick, rubbing at his neck. The Crow doesn't know any better, and was just being nice. "Thank you-- I know the shampoo I use is like.... rain and ocean? And I like these oils I throw on after a shower... haha. I guess I'm glad the combo is good?" His grin turns sheepish.

[metalhoops]

Read Part 1 Here

As small and unassuming as Eddie’s trailer was to others, it had always been his fortress. It was the last stronghold against the forces of evil, and the bastion of all things metal and macabre. It wasn’t much, but it was undoubtedly his. When you grew up with little, you clung to what you had. 

He’d come to Wayne’s at an age when the world had begun to haemorrhage magic, leaving a realm devoid of colour in its place. His uncle worked hard to stoke the flames of his creativity, buying or borrowing what he could to keep Eddie’s dreams of castles and kingdoms alive.  

He’d spent a small lifetime buried in tomes of fantasy and mythology. He’d whiled away afternoons flicking through books that let him choose the story, always managing to die before finding the right ending. As a child whose mother died young, it was nice to live in a world where death could be undone. 

Eddie managed to cling on to that last spark of childlike wonder into his early twenties. His childhood had been a landscape inhospitable for the companionships of knights and the trickery of wizards, yet he’d made it work. That kind of alchemy didn’t fade easily. 

Yet, with Chrissy’s death tainting his memories of the trailer, he understood his fortress, his kingdom, was nothing but rubble and blighted soil. He was Frodo, returning to The Shire after the destruction of the ring. Eddie’s Undying Lands came in the form of a small bungalow on the edge of town, paid for with government hush money. 

The place wasn’t much larger than the trailer, yet it felt vast in the late hours of the night when Wayne was working and Eddie was alone. They’d only been in the house a week. He still felt as though he were in hostile territory. He sat on his bedroom floor with the curtains half-drawn. 

He’d spent the past half hour drawing them open before pulling them shut. If they were shut, the place looked deserted. People would be less likely to try to peer in, but he wouldn’t be able to see if someone or something was coming. If he left the curtains open, people would be able to see in. Eddie told himself he was being paranoid until he watched a pair of headlights flicker in the distance down the isolated road. 

Eddie was quick to action, darting into the entrance as a knock sounded on the front door. He grabbed a box cutter from the pile of unpacked boxes and peeked through the keyhole. You could never be too cautious, not when half the town thought you were a murderer. 

Standing in the doorway was Steve Harrington, the former king of their ever-changing kingdom, looking lost and worse for wear. His hair, a Harrington point of pride, as good to Steve as a crown to a king, was a sodden bird's nest perched atop his head. Though that wasn’t all. One of his arms hung naked at his side. Steve hadn’t managed to pull it through his polo, leaving half his skin exposed, the other half covered in poorly wrapped bandages. 

They’d both been hurt by the hoard of bats, but Steve's injuries eclipsed Eddie’s. Something about that fact sat wrong with him. It was as though he’d stumbled upon a wrong ending. He wanted to turn back and find a story where Steve was safe. Eddie dropped his makeshift weapon and swung open the door. 

“Steve? Christ man, you’ve seen better days,” Eddie spoke, ushering Steve inside, locking the door behind him. 

“I’ve had worse.” 

Steve, like Eddie, appeared changed from what’d happened to them. He hadn’t known how to explain it. Most of what he knew about Steve Harrington was mythology, a collection of stories which changed depending on the teller. Yet, all those close to him, far closer to him than Eddie, had agreed something about him had changed. This Steve was a broken bone set wrong. Something about him always appeared to ache. 

Buckley had hauled up in the Harrington manor with him after they were released from hospital, helping tend to his wounds and wash his perfect hair. She’d confided in Eddie when he had come to check up on Steve that he was forgetting things. 

Perhaps forgetting wasn’t the right word. Robin spoke five languages, yet she couldn’t find the term to describe what was going on with Steve. He seemed out of place, like a sour note in a once sweet melody. 

Maybe it was one concussion too many, Robin had justified, which was a collection of stories shrouded in contention. How many concussions had Steve had? Nancy swore Jonathan hadn’t hurt Steve badly during their fight. He’d been able to run away, after all. Jonathan admitted he probably had. 

The kids all agreed Steve was knocked out cold after his fight with Billy while Robin recounted what’d happened in Starcourt. She’d later confess Steve had other concussions before Jonathan, though wouldn’t elaborate on their origin. Some stories only hurt the teller. Eddie had learnt how to read negative space.  Occam’s razor told them it was the easiest explanation, but to Robin and Eddie, it didn’t feel like the right one. 

Steve talked about things that’d happened weeks ago as if they’d occurred to someone in another life. Then there was the way he looked and spoke to Eddie. Every time he’d show up at the Harrington’s front stoop, Steve would look at him as though he’d risen from the dead, shook off the grave dirt and stumbled back into his life.

He had the feeling Steve was always seconds away from telling him something important, but he too, didn’t seem to have the language to convey it. When they stood together in silence, as they did that night in Eddie’s new fortress, he felt as though he almost understood. 

“What brings you to my humble abode, Harrington?” Eddie asked, trying to keep his eyes from Steve’s exposed side. 

“Mostly pride,” Steve admitted with a humourless laugh, ushering to his side, inviting Eddie to look. He did. 

“I told Rob to go home for the night and uh...” Steve cringed as he tried to lift his hand up to pull it through his sleeve. Eddie stepped closer without meaning to. 

“Shit, hold still. Don’t rip your stitches again or Buckley’ll hand my ass to me on a silver platter,” Eddie grumbled. His hand twitched, wanting to touch. Steve took a step forward, inviting him to. Eddie hesitantly brushed his fingers over the gauze, examining the bandages. 

“When did you last change these?” 

“Two days ago,” Steve admitted, leaning against the wall, trying to keep his balance. Eddie cursed under his breath, grabbed Steve by the wrist, and guided him to the bathroom. 

“You don’t have to change��‘em. They’re pretty gross,” Steve protested. 

“Which is exactly why I have to change them,” Eddie argued as he help Steve slide onto the bathroom countertop beside the sink. 

“I’ll get Robin to do it tomorrow. She didn’t throw up after dissecting a frog in junior bio.” Eddie groaned and scrubbed his face with his hand. 

“Didn’t know that was public knowledge, great.”

“Not many people knew. I just... we were in biology together.” Eddie knew they weren’t. 

He knew every class he’d had with Steve Harrington, much to his chagrin. They’d had gym, history, and Spanish together. Like shiny plastic to a crow or jewels to a dragon, Steve always managed to capture Eddie’s attention. He’d like to blame it on the fact he found Steve attractive, but there were a handful of other hot jocks who made Eddie want to shove his hand in a blender. Steve had always been different to him, though he’d managed to keep his affections close to his chest. It’d never do him any good. 

Steve had a habit of rewriting their mythology. Eddie had noticed him doing it often as a way of explaining away little things he’d have no right knowing, by fabricating new pasts. That was a piece of Steve’s new persona, which was reserved only for Eddie. 

He wasn’t sure how to broach the topic. He liked Steve. Hell, the more the two got to know one another, the more Eddie thought he could love Steve, but their relationship felt like an empty hallway in a horror film. It was devoid of any real threat, but it felt as though something was lurking just out of view. 

Eddie blamed his feelings of love for the strange gravity between them. Occam’s razor. He wanted to kiss Steve. He didn’t know what Steve wanted. That caused tension. 

“Why did you come here? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Stevie. The door’s always open,” Eddie said as he peeled back the bandage. 

He felt Steve stiffen and moved one hand to rest on the boy’s thigh. Steve’s hand covered his, lacing their fingers together and surprising Eddie. He tried not to look too closely at the wound. He found their first-aid kit and got to work, squeezing Steve’s thigh each time he pulled the bandaged taught. 

“I miss you,” Steve said, once more sounding seconds from another confession Eddie knew wouldn’t come. 

“I haven’t gone anywhere, dude. I saw you yesterday.” 

Steve muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, 

‘I used to see you every day.’ 

Another past that’d never happened. A reinvention. To make matters worse, Eddie wanted to believe in that past. He wanted Steve to tell him their story, the one that lived only inside his head. Eddie would follow it. He’d do anything to stop the boy from looking so lost. 

“Can I do something weird?” Steve asked, and all Eddie could do was nod. 

Steve hooked his arm around Eddie’s neck, pulled the boy into the space between his dangling legs, and buried his face in Eddie’s hair. Steve’s hands balled into tight fists in Eddie’s shirt fabric, holding him so close he felt his bones creak like wooden floorboards underfoot. 

“You don’t have to miss me, sweetheart. I’m right here,” Eddie assured, feeling the need to do something, say something to make everything better. Steve’s grip tightened.

“Do you ever feel like we’ve been here before?” Steve spoke, his voice muffled by Eddie’s skin. 

He knew the answer Steve wanted. He couldn’t in good conscience give it to him. 

“No,” Eddie confessed. 

“But I wish we had.” 

Steve pulled back so the two could get a better look at one another. Unable to help himself, Eddie leaned forward, trying to smooth down his hair. 

“When you were seven, you scraped your knee so badly you walked with a limp for half a year and ever since you’ve hated the sight of blood,” Steve spoke, not daring to look at Eddie. 

He felt his whole body go stiff. His hand in Steve’s hair froze. He was right, but Eddie couldn’t understand how he knew. He’d moved to Hawkins when he was twelve. His life before that was a mystery to the town. 

“How?” Eddie began, but Steve wasn’t finished. 

“You do that thing when you’re nervous. Yes, that thing you’re doing with your hair,” Steve observed. Eddie had taken a string of hair between his thumb and forefinger and half hidden behind it. 

“And when you’re flirting,” Steve amended. Eddie’s brows drew together. 

“Which you do with me, a lot. Took me forever to work out that’s what you were doing but give me enough time and a good enough thump to the head and I’ll realise it, eventually.” 

Steve knew Eddie liked him. Shit. 

“Took me even longer to realise I liked you too, but everything’s kind of screwed now, isn’t it?” Steve asked, his humourless, dry laugh coming back. 

“Because every time I’m with you, I miss you. And I know that makes no goddamn sense, but I do.” 

Eddie tried to unpick what Steve’s words meant, but he kept coming up short. Steve liked him. That much Eddie gathered. It was enough to send his stomach plummeting into his boots. 

“Tell me what you’ve gotta tell me, Steve. I’m a big boy. I can handle it. Get some of that damn weight off your shoulders,” Eddie mumbled, placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder and rubbing circles into the spot as though to prove a point. Instead, Steve looked at him with a crooked grin and uttered,

“Like Atlas, right?” He hadn’t picked Steve as a mythology geek. Eddie felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, as though he were seconds away from putting it all together.

“We’ve had this conversation before, haven’t we?” 

“Not exactly, but almost.” 

“Then why the hell don’t I remember it?” Eddie questioned, his voice growing strained. 

“I don’t know. You never do. It doesn’t matter, it’s over.” 

“What’s over Steve?” 

“I’d ask you if you really want to know, but the answer is always yes,” He grumbled, nudging his face against Eddie’s hand. 

Steve took a deep breath and told Eddie everything. He spoke about Eddie’s death, about being stuck in the same day for hundreds of repetitions. He told stories of Eddie’s death while brushing over similar terrors. Eddie knew he was getting a sanitised version of the tale, but still, he understood why the boy was haunted. He couldn’t imagine what he’d do if he were in Steve’s place. 

Stories, where death could be undone with a simple flick of the page and another binary decision, were easy. In practice, with hundreds of little choices and thousands of ways things could go wrong, it seemed more akin to a nightmare. 

“When you said you missed me,” Eddie breathed after a moment.

“Which version of me do you miss?” Steve’s brows pinched together, looking as though he’d been asking himself the same question. 

“I don’t know. I think, shit. I think I miss a version of you that never existed. If that makes sense. I miss what I thought we could’ve been when everything was over. You’re alive. I’m alive. It was supposed to be easy after that.” 

Eddie gave the boy a sad smile and nodded. To Steve, trapped in a never-ending cycle, Eddie had been his kingdom. He’d been a land to defend and a safe haven to return to. Yet, he’d wanted himself to be the same wide-eyed hero who’d left the empire, not the jaded veteran who’d returned home from war. They could never be the uncomplicated love story Steve had told himself to get through the days, but that didn’t have to mean things were ruined. 

“Hey, Stevie? What’s your favourite movie?” Eddie spoke, causing Steve to really look at him for the first time since they’d started speaking of other timelines and death. 

“Star Wars... The one with the teddy bears. Why?” Eddie got a goofy grin on his face, wondering how the hell someone who’d had the reputation Steve once had could love something as nerdy as Star Wars. 

“You know a damn lot about me. Time we even the goddamn playing field.” Steve nodded and gnawed on his bottom lip. His eyes trailed down to Eddie’s lips. He didn’t have to know Steve well to know what he was getting at. 

“Can I kiss you?” He questioned, his hand already tangling in Eddie’s hair. 

His thumb ghosted over the space between his ear and jaw that always made his breath hitch. Steve knew how Eddie liked to be touched. That was a new revelation. 

“We’ve kissed before, haven’t we?” Eddie questioned, Steve’s breath hot against his face. 

“I haven’t kissed this version of you before,” Steve supplied with a smug grin. 

“No fucking fair. You have the hometown advantage,” Eddie reasoned, and Steve let out a shocked laugh, a real one this time. 

“You’ve never made a sports reference before.”

“So they’re surprises in me yet,” Eddie beamed, sick of the anticipation, he leaned forward and pressed their lips together. 

The kiss was long and desperate. Steve clung to him, kissing him breathlessly, making Eddie weak at the knees. They had to pause when Steve let out a sharp inhale as Eddie accidentally grabbed his still-healing side. He muttered a slew of apologies, peppering Steve’s neck and jaw with kisses. He hadn’t shaved in days and Eddie felt a good kind of ache from the scrape of stubble against his jaw. 

When they finally pulled apart, the two looked decidedly more dishevelled. Eddie caught his breath and whispered, 

“You know, I’ve got Return of the Jedi on tape in a box someplace. You could stay over and we could... I don’t know, re-get to know each other,” Eddie proposed. 

“I like the sound of that.” 

[keeksandgigz]

lavender syrup (part one of lessons in alchemy)

barista!eddie munson x fem!barista!reader AU

summary: Eddie is the owner of the most popular cafe in his small town, "The Mad Alchemist," you are the owner of the rival cafe "Daily Drug". You obviously hate each other, but when a pipe bursts into your cafe that might take months to repair, your contractor assigns you and your coworkers to work with Eddie in order to keep your job, just until "Daily Drug" is ready to run again. Is tolerating him really that big of a feat?

cw: 4k words, swearing, modern setting, allusions to smut but nothing explicit (yet), Eddie calls reader a bitch a couple times and he's such a condescending asshole but in a hot way, i feel like the sexual tension needs its own tw, Steve is also in this <3

a/n: pls like and reblog and feedback is always so very much appreciated!! my requests are always open if u wanna chat <3

divider by @benkeibear

Eddie Munson wasn’t the type to want much from life. He was content in his little town, managing the coffee shop that kept it alive. From the early morning crew of truckers, farmers, nurses and cops to the 9 am rushes of the corporate job workers from one town over to the yoga moms, the high schoolers after the ring of the last bell. Eddie Munson did not have any big plans for his life. The little coffee shop made him enough money that he was able to take care of his uncle, now retired, and live by himself in a small apartment with his roommate, Steve. 

He got an associate’s degree in business, and after that he opened “The Mad Alchemist Cafe,” a DnD themed rustic coffee shop filled with beakers, lights and plants. The exposed brick the “interior designer” (it really was just a friend who had a good eye) begged him to paint over was instead littered with posters of announcements. He would host poetry slams, band performances, most importantly DnD campaigns he'd have to close down the cafe for in the evenings. For a few years he had also been hosting Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners for those who didn’t have a family to go home to for the holidays. 

He hired his roommate and closest friend, Steve to be the baker. Straight out of cooking school, Steve Harrington took care of the sweet and savory. The thousand- layer croissants that would melt once slightly placed on the tip of the tongue. Airy, buttery pastry that made Eddie's customers sigh with every bite, as they lingered on the wooden bar, conversing with the baristas. The lunch hour crew, asking for meatball sandwiches and messy pasta bowls. He’d make turkeys for the dinners at the cafe, during the holiday season, along with insurmountable potato dishes and stuffing. 

Eddie's life was littered with small sprinkles of joy. Everyone knew him as the kid from the cafe, with his long hair, sticking out of the messy bun he would wear to work. It started off as a joke in middle school, when Eddie's hair was buzzed due to a lice epidemic. Steve had miserably beat him at the arcade. He had grown fond of the long hair though, and added to the mystique of his coffee shop. It was also metal as fuck.

He felt like he was the main accessory to his lovely brick building; there would not have been  “The Mad Alchemist Cafe” without Eddie Munson, something that both staff and customers knew. The cafe would also not have been the cafe without the three years long rivalry with the only other cafe on their side of town, “Daily Drug” that opened a year after Eddie’s. The brand new establishment that started taking customers from him, claiming that their chai lattes and breakfast sandwiches were to die for.

Eddie had not interacted much with you, the owner of the cafe. Your bossy, stuck up and overall terrible attitude were a house trade mark there. He had been in the cafe though, and understood why “Daily Drug” was such an incredible contender to his establishment. The ambiance was different, like a Pinterest board had come to life. The pink and blue tile that decorated the walls as well as the ironic bitchy posters that ranged from a snarky “What are you looking at?” to a direct and curt “don’t be an asshole” decorated the walls. 

It was nothing like the cafe Eddie had imagined, the colorful palette contrasting with the caricaturistic mean and sarcastic ways of the staff, whose bitterness might have actually improved the taste of their coffee, as their lavender lattes tasted way sweeter, the syrup not overpowering the taste of the coffee, perfectly blended with the best milk for the beverage, which he found was almond.

You could have easily spat in his cup, but you serve him with feigned kindness as you make sure to make him hear a soundly “UGH could he be any more annoying?” to a blonde haired coworker, whose name he finds out later is Colette. Colette erupts in laughter as she serves his lavender latte with an egg and sausage burrito with a side of aggressive side eye. You had definitely spat in his drink. 

A fifteen- minute car ride later, Eddie enters his cafe begrudged by his inability to master a lavender latte. The taste of his in- house lavender syrup is too artificial, while “Daily Drug”’s try as he might is a flavor that he had never encountered.

The lavender provides a sweet flavor to the drink that pairs perfectly with the bitter coffee and the creamy taste of the almond milk without the artificial aftertaste. He beelines to the back of the building, to the room he called his lab, setting down his bag on a stool next to him as he takes a bored bite out of the egg and sausage burrito. Hm. Steve's is better. 

He jots down some notes in his journal. Try lemon for lavender syrup. Fennel seed in the sausage. Paprika maybe? Definitely garlic. He should have listened to his uncle and he should have gone to cooking school before he had opened the restaurant. He knew that he had the talent for it, Steve had even asked him to apply together, but he felt like it was not his true calling. 

“Your true calling is bossing everyone around, Ed” said his uncle with a laugh, one of the many sleepless nights he had spent mulling over the cafe during its early days. A knock startles him from his reverie. It's Steve. 

“Hey, didn’t see you come in. Are you still stressing over that lavender syrup thing?” he leans on the doorframe, half smiling at Eddie. He came in too early. Him and Steve were kind of the same in that regard, once haunted by an idea, they would not rest until it was executed. 

“What was it this morning? Strawberry frosting on matcha rolls?” says Eddie taking another bite out of his stale burrito.

"Nah, it's for the Halloween special, I'm trying to figure out the menu. We need to remember to add more nutmeg to the pumpkin spice syrup this year" Steve says, crossing his arms.

"Shit, yeah, I almost forgot. Also, this" Eddie shakes his burrito towards his friend "does not compare to yours by, like, miles. The sausage is too dry and the egg too cooked" Steve shrugs and fixes his glasses with a smug smile.

"Knew it." Eddie laughs at that, then proceeds to scribble in his leather bound notebook. Then the phone rings.

"Hey Steve, do you mind getting that?" Eddie says, not moving his head from the notebook.

"You got it boss" Steve heads towards the phone in Eddie's office.

"'Mad Alchemist Cafe' Steve speaking...Mhm...yeah, Eddie's in...oh shit" at that, Eddie turns his head.

"What is it, what's wrong Steve?" his tone alarmed as he paces towards the phone.

"Yeah no he's here you can talk to him, Jim" Steve passes the phone, making a face, the corners of his mouth pulled as if he were in trouble. "It's Jim" his contractor. Fuck.

Eddie presses the phone to his ear "Hey Jim, what's up?" his tone tense and cautious.

"Hey, kid, I don't know how to tell you this, but a pipe burst at 'Daily Drug'" Jim sounds scared, but Eddie is still struggling to figure out what that had to do with him, other than the fact that he would finally get back his traitorous customers who had gone to the dark side when “Daily Drug” opened.

"Yeah, ok, and that's my problem because?" he's annoyed at the ominous way Jim called at 8 in the morning concerned for his rival cafe's burst pipes.

"Are you sitting down, kid?" Ed rolls his eyes, he's getting seriously pissed off at this whole mystery thing his contractor's getting at.

"Yeah, Jim. Fuck sake just spit it out"

"Alright, alright no need to get aggressive" Jim takes a deep breath in "In order for the girls at 'Daily Drug' to keep their jobs you need to hire them, at least until the shop is up and running again." Oh shit indeed. Jim trails off, waiting for a reaction.

"How long Jim?" Eddie's fuming.

"It could take up to six months, really, the pipe fucked up the whole kitchen so they need to redo the back and stuff, hell it might take a year knowing how slow these fuckers operate" Jim exhales, he's probably shaking. Eddie did not make his contempt for “Daily Drug” unknown.

“Jesus Christ Jim you can’t do this to me. You know how much that- that bitch hates me. Everytime I go there I'm pretty sure she spits in my coffee. I'm actually convinced they all do, Jim" he's spiraling.

"C'mon kid, don't be stupid. That would violate an incredibly long amount of regulations and they would need to close down if it were true. Which I don't think it is" Jim sounds like he's finding this amusing now.

"This is not funny. And- and then what? The owner just comes in here and she starts actin' like she owns the place? We start sharing responsibilities? That's real cute, Jim, y'know that? Incredibly cute." Only then Eddie had notices how hard he had been gripping the phone. And the armrest of his chair.

"Eddie, you're throwing a tantrum. The owner doesn't hate you, they're hired under the agency and I just pulled some strings because I know you and these girls- these girls have families to support and I didn't want to scatter them all across town. I know they will be in good hands, they're not your employees, Eddie. Get it in that thick skull or I'm closing your shit down" Fuck. He's backed up into a corner.

"Alright. When do they start?" He grabs a pen and a piece of paper and scribbles Daily Drug start dates.

"Okay, so we have eight employees. Four of them are going across town, I have that cafe there. The rest are going to you- Virginia, Colette, Chrissy and the owner are all going to your cafe. They start tomorrow at 9 am. Better brush up on those training books, kid." Jim snickers.

"You're hilarious, Jim y'know that?" he quickly jots down the names and the time, stopping at your name for a second, before putting an angry face next to it.

"Aw, come on, kid. Maybe it might be a great way for you all to bond and put this stupid rivalry behind"

"Yeah- yeah no, and then we're gonna ride on the rainbow towards a pot of gold and do a little jig. Of course, Jim. I am healed already. Listen, I'll call you tomorrow after everything- if that bitch doesn't put a knife at my throat, speaking of, I should hide them" he seethes.

"Don't stress Ed. You'll be okay, what matters is that-" Jim never gets to finish that sentence, blocked by the violent slam of Eddie's phone back into its socket.

"FUCKING SHIT" he yells, kicking the bottom of his desk.

"I take it wasn't good news?" Steve leans on the threshold of Eddie's office.

"Steve- God I want to punch something. The owner of 'Daily Drug' in here. She's gonna kill me. Hide the knives"

"If I didn't know you like the back of my hand I'd say you're a little scared of her, Ed."

"Have you seen her? She's terrifying. So mean. I'd be turned on if she wasn't my archenemy" and he does have eyes, he thinks you're attractive. He's fantasized about putting you in your place, sometimes. About shutting your mouth up, see how witty you were after he'd make you go dumb from a few rounds.

He shakes his head. He has to stop.

"Well, maybe you can be nice to her so we can steal her lavender syrup recipe" Steve suggests. And as morally wrong as that sounds, you've spit in his drink before, so what's a bit of foul play compared to an FDA violation?

"Steven you might be onto something, but for now let's just worry about surviving tomorrow- God I know it's gonna be awful" Eddie says. As he said that, one of his employees, Jeff, comes knocking at his office.

"Eddie, the owner of the other cafe is here, she's asking for you." Eddie's eyes widen. The fuck is she doing here?

"The fuck- Okay thank you, Jeff. Send her back here." He dismisses his barista and Steve follows him back into the kitchen.

There is no hiding you're angry. Starting a job at a place where you knew everyone hated you seemed a bit of a cunt move from Jim, and there you are. Heading towards Eddie Munson's office, walking like you own the damn place.

"You look a little too sure of yourself for someone who lost their cafe, sweetheart. What is it, hm? What are you doing here?"

His condescending tone only stokes your anger more.

"I just came here to see the place, see if I have to dumb myself down. Maybe you guys don't know what cortados are" Feigned pity in your face.

"If you've come here to be a bitch you can go right home. One call to Jim and I can end this arrangement as quickly as it started, let's not get like that, m'kay?" his smile is devilish and god it's so hard to not find him attractive even when you want to rip him to shreds for threatening you.

"I didn't come here to bitch. I wanted to pick up our aprons? You guys have cute aprons. At least you have good taste in something" you scoff, and he shoots you a look. Fucking brat.

"Yeah- um" Eddie stands up from his desk and reaches for a box in the corner of his office "I'll give you two each. Try to keep 'em clean, I don't like dirty aprons. I've seen how messy you guys are at the cafe, that won't fly here 'kay? We really value cleanliness and order here"

"How clean can a cafe run by a man really be, huh? that's probably why your lights are so dim" he wants to kill you, but also pin you against the wall and shove his tongue down your throat so you can stop talking.

"You've had a long morning, sweetheart. Why don't you go home and sleep it off? I'm afraid you're letting off all this negative energy here and we don't want that. Not here" his tone's more stern rather than joking "I'll see ya bright an' early tomorrow morning at nine. Please don't come late, yeah?" he winks at you, cueing you to leave.

As you cross the threshold of the cafe you cannot possibly fathom what was it that left you so flustered and with an insatiable hunger between your thighs.

You pick up your coworker Colette on the way to work the morning after, presenting her with a bagel and all your rage directed towards Eddie. 

“No, Col, you don’t understand. He threatened to call Jim for a little remark. You know how insane that is? He’s gonna use whatever sick power he thinks he has over me to make me stay in line. Nope, no sir not with me” you say, turning into the parking lot of the cafe. 

“This Eddie guy really is an asshole, huh?” Colette remarks, getting out of the car. 

“You have no idea, it’s like he thinks he’s the shit or something just because the whole town loves him” 

“Everyone does love me, sweetheart. Good morning ladies, I’d recommend getting in, you have five minutes.” Eddie's right behind you, closing the trunk of his van, wearing one of his dumb satanic shirts. It's black, arms covered by a ratty black leather jacket. His hair is down and a messenger bag littered with button pins is slung over his shoulder, resting on his hip. All it takes is one snide remark and then he's gone inside the shop. 

You don't realize you're staring until Colette pinches the back of your arm, you reach for the affected area. “Babes, not him. Literally anyone but him, you have literally spent the whole car ride talking about how much of an asshole he is” 

“I have eyes, Col. He’s hot, and as much as I’d love to sleep with him, my hatred for this asshole is a bit too strong. I’d probably punch him mid- act anyway” you snicker and follow Eddie inside the store. Virginia and Chrissy are already inside, you shoot them a comforting look and a light touch to Virginia’s arm, who seriously lookes like she's about to cry.

“You okay, Gin?” you ask, lightly elbowing her arm. 

“No, I- I’m okay. Just nervous, also a bit scared. The boss seems mean” she trembles. She's only seventeen, after all. She's been working since she had been able to, if not before. Taking babysitting jobs until she turned fifteen, then just started taking customer service jobs, until she stumbled inside “Daily Drug,” with the extensive resume she had, she had been easy to hire. 

“He’s an asshole, but don’t let him intimidate you. He can’t do anything without Jim’s approval, just remember that, hun” you squeeze her arm as Eddie enters, having shed his jacket, putting his hair up, and tying the purple apron around his waist. A small, golden tag says his name on the right side of his chest. 

“Good morning, ladies. My name is Eddie, the owner of this fine establishment” he bows, smirking. “The crew at “Mad Alchemist” is deeply sorry about what happened at your cafe. We will do everything in our power to make you guys feel welcome for your short stay here” at the mention of “short” his eyes dart at you. You’re not the only one who hopes this bullshit will be short, dickhead.

You step forward, putting your best polite face on. “Thanks, Eddie. We’re extremely grateful for the opportunity to keep working, and we hope to learn from our time here” you say through gritted teeth. Even being that nice to him feels like nails on a chalkboard on your brain. “These are my baristas- Virginia, Chrissy, and Colette, my baker” you point at each of your girls. 

“Oh Colette, you’re gonna want to meet with Steve, then- He’s my baker and pastry chef. I’m sure you both have a lot of things to talk about, and a lot of work to do since our Halloween special will be dropping in a week from today” a taut smile appears on his lips. 

The guy in the back with the gorgeous head of hair and round glasses whom you assume is Steve waves his hand and Colette shoots you an assuring look before she runs to him, disappearing in the back, where you assume the pastry shop is. 

No one to run to now.

"Perfect, shall we begin?" Eddie's voice feels muffled in your ears as he assigns each one of his baristas to one of yours for training. The cafe has just passed its early morning peak time, meaning that in a couple hours you will have a lunch rush. Everything feels like it's moving too fast.

The noises around you become clear again when Eddie grazes the bare skin of your arm. You shiver. Unbeknownst to you, his hand flexes at his side.

"Scared, sweetheart? You look like you've seen a ghost..." his mouth is moving, but you can't understand anything of whatever he's saying. You're unconsciously rubbing the area Eddie had touched, his fingers warm yet rough, from all the times he's had to wash his hands throughout the day.

You haven't noticed until now how thick his fingers are. Suddenly, the feeling of a phantom limb reaching out, wrapping a hand around your throat, gently feeling its way down your neck, your shoulders, your clavicle, down your stomach and into-

"You wanna follow me to my office or what? I have a couple questions for you" Eddie breaks you out of your sick reverie, leaving you a bit flushed in the face, afraid to look at him in the eye.

"Yeah-uh sorry. Lead the way" you say, and suddenly the floor becomes very interesting to look at.

Quickly, everyone gets to work. The girls being taught the house drinks by the guys at the bar, whilst you follow Eddie in his office. 

“I just need to know if there’s any schedule preferences from the girls, just in case there’s any conflict. I was thinking, since the Halloween special will be dropping, one of these days you might need to sit in here with me and I’ll give you a proper training of what that entails. Y’know tastings and such.” His demeanor has switched from snarky to utterly professional, for which you thank whatever entity in the sky, allowing you a break from his abrasive behavior. 

He sits down at his desk and pulls out a notepad and a pen. He looks at you with waiting eyes.

“Yeah, um, Virginia has school during the week and can’t work until after three and she can only work four hours on weekdays, three days a week and usually a full shift during the weekend. Chrissy and Colette can work whenever, but please don’t schedule Col at the early hours of the mornings, she actually cannot function. She’s more useful to you awake” you let out a breathy laugh, remembering Colette putting salt instead of sugar in a batch of banana bread muffins. 

In the meantime, Eddie scribbles on his notepad. You feel uneasy in a room with him without the loud tensions of an argument looming, the blood booming in your ears. 

“And you?” he raises an eyebrow, lifting his face from the notepad. 

“Oh, I’ll just come in whenever you need me. I really don’t mind, I just need a good amount of hours. I um- I have my dad to take at the hospital on Saturday mornings, but I can come after” you say, your face tinging a bright red. 

 He scribbles that down, embarrassment visible on your face as the tension in the room becomes suffocating. 

“Alright, I’ll have those schedules ready by the end of the day. I need you to come in tomorrow through Wednesday. Opening shift Monday and Tuesday, you’ll close with me and Chrissy on Wednesday. Sounds good?” he keeps writing down in his notepad, you nod. He tuts “I need words, I can’t see you nodding or shaking your head if I’m writing, can I?” 

“Y-yeah, that sounds good. Sorry” You feel even more embarrassed, the tops of your ears tinging red. 

“Don’t apologize. Just do better next time” Eddie thrums a ringed hand on the edge of his desk. He's never seen you this docile and it puts him off. He was hoping for some snide remark, but you're looking around nervously, playing with the laces of your apron, which he finds enhances the curves and features of your body. Wondering what you’d look like in nothing but that apron, all the exposed skin of your back, shoulders and– 

“Are we done here?” there she is. The snarky question makes him jump, thanking the desk for covering the lower half of his body. 

“Yeah, I can go train you now, just gimme a sec, I’ll meet you outside” I need to get rid of that boner is what he means, but you don't budge. 

“Fuck no, you’re not training me. Gimme someone else” you remark, crossing your arms. 

“God there I thought you weren’t gonna be a bitch today.” He exhales. “How many people do you see in the staff, huh? It's Steve, Gareth, Jeff and I. Not much of a merry group. You either let me train you or the door is that way.” you can tell he’s had enough of you, which only stokes your fire even more.

“Literally anyone but you. You can train Virginia, I’m sure you have a bit of heart to not be a dick to a literal child. Not that she even needs training, she has more knowledge and better work ethics than you assholes” you spit, and you’re sure Eddie wants to kill you. 

“I don’t tolerate this kind of language in my store. I’m sure that’s what attracted all my customers to your store, but you can shut that filthy mouth in here. Now, you’re gonna go out and wait for me to train you, understood?” he's seething. 

“Or what? You can’t do shit Eddie. I’m not your little employee, you can’t fucking threaten me” you're winded, this argument is stupid and you want to punch him. 

“Alright” Eddie stands up abruptly and stalks towards you. “train yourself then.”

His tone is calm and collected, which makes you tremble. He's close. Really close.

“I wanna watch you crash and burn and struggle to make a dragon’s breath latte. You don’t want me to train you? Fine. Perfect. The less time I have to spend away from your bitch mouth the better my day will be. Recipe cards are on the counter. Have fun” he taps his hand on your shoulder and gives you a pulled smile, then walks back to his desk. 

He's fucking brutal.

[bloodandthestars]

・✧ — 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐄

tags: NO SPOILERS!, a part in the HE ATE MY HEART series, antihero fwb! reader, takes place before atsv, little translations this time (fantastic, fuck), of course mdni.

author’s note: hello everyone! thank you for 155 followers?? never thought this would happen, much less me ever posting my work. so thank you for taking a chance on me! i hope you’ll enjoy where I’ll take this (when i figure it out lmao)

EDIT: so I’ve discovered that Miguel doesn’t have a spider sense, so let’s just have him go off of his enhanced senses instead, sorry for the error!

wc: 4.8k previous masterlist

You weren’t exactly knowing of Nueva York’s high elite, other than what you could use to your advantage. They were so high on their pedestals, that they think no one will climb to touch their things. And those that did, hid them within layers of secrets and security. That’s where you come in.

For the right price, anything can be known by anyone. Cooperate coverups, measly affairs, underground operations— you charge triple for anything connected to the government, god forbid. You could retain information that could crumble empires and not bat an eye.

You’ve been working with Miguel for a couple of months now. You weren’t used to working with someone else and well, neither was he. But so far, you had nothing for a cause to keep a knife behind your back.

Weeks went by without another word from the arachnid— at least on the work-related side of things. Behind closed doors was an entirely different story you both knew too well. You didn’t take notice, as he was usually tight-lipped on his plans. That was until you pulled out a hint of what he was doing at your previous job at Oscorp. It was only at your last hookup however that he mentioned a new job for you.

You adjusted the earring back to fit snugly on the jewel and more thoroughly, the mic underneath it. Your eyes scan over your attire when he speaks from behind. “I heard it connect.”

You turn around, seeing his broad backside covered by a formal jacket. He turns around, adjusting the dress shirt’s cuffs underneath. “So it should work fine.”

You hear him, understand the words he tells you, but god how could you ignore the sight in front of you? Your eyes go to what harnesses his shoulders, a cool grey metal sitting atop each one. You see how the fabric compliments the hue of his skin. He left the jacket unbuttoned, allowing your gaze to go down the buttons of his dress shirt. With further observation, you could see how tight they were in holding his body, the curves of his abdomen evident in the fit. He should wear black more often, you thought.

Miguel coughs, and your attention goes to his face, where he sends you a look. You raise your brow at him. “I heard you.”

He hums, adjusting the other cuff. “Didn’t seem like it.”

“Just seeing how your clothes fit you.”

He looks up to give you another look, looking back down to the empty hole for his cufflinks. “I don’t know why you have me wearing this…thing.”

You know exactly what he’s talking about. The pieces upon his shoulders went into an abstract shape on his upper back. It was in metallic silver, shining with an alchemy symbol edged into it. You step forward, high shoes making light thumps against his bedroom floor.

“Because you were invited to an elite party. They don’t exactly dress in something as simple as a prom date from eons ago.”

“This is still an operation, don’t you think blending in would be the right call?”

You scoff at the sarcasm in his tone, looking down at the small case of various cuff links. You study each of them as you speak. “Blending in would be a crime to them and only get you noticed more. If you stand out in a crowd who’s trying to do just as much, that’s when you’re in a sea of secrecy.”

Your fingers trail over the different shapes, textures, and images edged into the small accessories. His eyes follow, listening.

“Who are you going as?”

“Myself.”

“So you have to try, but not too hard. As just a scientist, the middle ground is what you aim for.” You hand picks out a silver pair, with triangles cut into its shape. You display them out in your palm to him with your head up to meet his gaze. “I picked out something subtle.“

“This is subtle-?”

You laugh. “Best believe this barely scratches the surface on what they consider formal fashion. With your loathing, it was the best I could do with such a lost cause.”

Miguel looks up from your palm, then down, then back— slowly grabbing the cuffs from you. He goes to put them on, but after watching him fiddle with them for a minute or two, you step closer and let your hands take over. Silence falls over the two of you, both looking down to watch your hands.

“Lost cause, huh?” He mutters in a low tone.

You glance at him, going back to pinning the cuffs. “I only ever see you naked or in high-tech spandex. You’re not exactly giving me a good impression of range.”

The cuff secures the fabrics in a final tug. Your fingertips brush over the veins of his wrist, turning it over when you finish. You look up to him, voice going just as low as his does. “…but this is a good start.”

A small smirk appears on his face and you return it with ease.

You get into the penthouse first, with Miguel arriving a couple of minutes later to not draw suspicion. Whoever was hosting the party obviously had the cash to go all out. There was a champagne tower in the corner of the vast foyer. Guests in another interacted with Alchemax’s latest in augmented reality, giving the company their oohs and ahhs. You could immediately tell that the foyer alone could cost a fortune. It held a high ceiling due to the various floors. Long glass panels gave the guests a fantastic view of Nueva York’s skyline— lit in a technological blue.

You pretend to adjust your earring in the reflection of an extravagant vase, hearing it click to life. “You inside?”

“Mhm.”

You didn’t have to see him to know that his jaw was locked shut. Miguel takes note of the guests who were in small clusters across the space. He recognized a few faces, holding the disdain from his expression for a few others. It bubbles higher when he sees Alchemax chairmen socializing about “How’s security looking?”

You take a glance around the room, huffing. “Three security men in each corner of the room…including at the hall with the stairs. What a tool.”

Miguel huffs, not still hiding his glare into the crowd.

Your lips press together in thought. “Do you remember what you’re supposed to be doing?”

“Surveillance, look for an entry point and-“

“No, what you do during surveillance.”

He frowns, resetting his jaw so that he can resist a groan. “I know what to-“

A man comes up to him, and you can hear his voice faintly through your connection. “My, that is an exquisite piece! Such detail in the marking- Do you mind telling me who the designer is?”

Miguel freezes slightly, dropping his hand from his ear. “I- it’s Vancasa-“

“-Vancada-“ You correct.

“Vancada.” Miguel clears his throat, placing his hands into his pockets. “Excuse me.”

The gentleman raises his brow before looking over his attire one last time, then giving him a cordial nod. Miguel nods back and watches him leave to speak to others. He hears you snicker in his earpiece. “Shut up.”

“I said not a word.”

The arachnid supposed he’d have to play house, much to his dismay.

He was greeted by some of his colleagues, some that he actually tolerated. They all told him the same thing: it would be a death wish to their careers not to take an invite. Miguel hated that such intelligent people were held in the grasp of such corrupt ones, including himself. Eventually, he finds himself at the silver-lit bar at one end of the room. His eyes scan the crowd, finding you. You held a flute of champagne in your hand, letting out a fluttering laugh at what the woman next to you said. He knew you, however. It didn’t come as a surprise to him that you knew how to play with the crowd. Miguel’s eyes eventually wandered, going down the attire that you picked out for yourself to the tiniest detail. The way fabric hugs your figure, a dark blue satin that gives a slight shine. Your features seemed to be highlighted in the interior’s soft lighting. He presses his lips together with a sip of his drink.

“O’Hara!”

He snapped back to reality when two men wave him over. He takes a glance at you before taking another sip of his drink and walking a few short steps.

“Bastava, Mr. Hayward.” He addresses them with a nod. “It’s an honor to be invited to such an event.”

Each of them put out their hands to shake, and he wanted to brittle both of their hands. A firm handshake would just have to do.

“It’s so good to see you again, O’Hara!”

Mr. Hayward motions between Bastava and Miguel. “Is this the one you spoke of? The lead scientist?”

Bastava nods, a smile on display. “Yes!”

He goes around the tall table they gathered at to wrap around Miguel’s broad shoulder. “Cooperate Raiders’ finest scientist in the flesh.” He knocks Miguel playfully. “And he knows how to clean up too!”

The two elites break out into a laugh, Miguel joining in with a forced one. You were right, he was an absolute lost cause. Because if he had it his way, that arm around him would be broken.

Bastava goes back to his side of the table, refilling his glass of vodka while Mr. Hayward sipped at his own whisky. “Good to see you back at the company, O’Hara. The succession rates could never be better.”

He gives them a hard smile. “It’s good to be back.”

Mr. Hayward motions his glass in a brief toast. “May you don’t run into any other mishaps this time around for your continued stay?”

Miguel gives a short toast back. His paranoia may have gotten him over his head a few times, but with the way he emphasized it— it was almost like he was referring to what happened. And with the look Mr. Hayward sends over the glass as he drinks, it almost like he wanted Miguel to know that he is.

“Excuse me.” The two men give him short nods and he parts from the table. The arachnid practically felt bile come up in his throat from his words, taking a gulp of his drink to calm himself. The strong tang sent a kick to his head, shutting his eyes tightly so he could adjust. An exhale slips past his lips while his eyelids softened. He taps quickly into his earpiece. “Checking in.”

You hear him in your ear, getting up from your seat. “See, if I didn’t have to powder myself up, we wouldn’t have this problem of ending such a lovely conversation.”

He can hear formal laughs through the microphone, faintly picking up a “Why? You have nothing to freshen up.”

Miguel did your eye rolling for you. You give the gentleman a smile and thanks. When you excuse yourself, your face falls as soon as you turn around. Miguel catches that, giving him a slight amusement. You see him through the wave of people locking eyes. He was off to the side by an extravagant plant. You walk past, eyes forward, and stop at a mirror next to the hall you both needed to go down. Both of your backs were to each other with distance put between you. You begin patting your face, and clicking your earring in the process. “This place has a lot of rooms to cover.”

Miguel hums. “I figured.”

You continue to pat down your neck. “Did you get anything from speaking to them?”

His jaw sets again. “Nothing of use.”

His brows form a firm line as his senses began to go off. There were eyes on him somewhere. Red eyes cautiously look from side to side, finding a guard staring right at him. Before either can react, a click of glasses averts their gazes to Bastava standing atop a bar stool. A slurred chuckle escapes his lips before clearing his throat. “It’s an honor to have you all here tonight. I wouldn’t have an event going any other way. Now-” His hands flick out. “-Let’s get this music going shall we?”

The crowd cheers. Marble panels on the walls trade themselves out for black ones. With a press of a button, they emit a turquoise light out to the floor. Electronic lines are built into instruments. The crowd murmurs in wonder as they begin to play themselves. People a few at a time begin to stray towards the center of the room.

The arachnid’s sense was still going haywire. Miguel gives the security a glance before coughing into the mic. “When I approach you, just go with it.”

Your face contorted. “What-?”

“Excuse me, miss?“

You turn around to his voice, both of your earpieces shutting down with being in front of each other. You look at him up and down, looking into his eyes on what his game plan was. With his back to the guard, he’s able to dart his eyes in his direction and then back for you to catch on. His hand goes out between you both. “I couldn’t help but watch you the entire night, would you like to dance?”

You look down at his hand, then up at his figure. Your smile of amusement slips into one of formality. Placing your hand in his, you say in a hushed tone. “I would love to.”

Before he turns, he gives you a look, almost as if to tell you to behave. He immediately sensed the amusement under your facade. Miguel’s arm curls around your own, the build of his upper arm brushing against your own. You take your walk to the dance floor with a quick glance to see what others were doing. The music was light, tones of classical filling the air. You follow suit, turning to place a hand on his shoulder. The large of your hand envelopes your hip, snaking your other hand into his. Your eyes were at your feet to follow the steps in your head.

His mouth clicks. “Look at me.”

Your head shoots up in surprise, immediately going to slight your brow.

“Keep your eyes on me and I’ll lead. Think we got eyes on us.”

You take a glance at the room and then back to him. “From where?”

“My left.”

He shifts your dance, going in the motions of steps so you can see who he’s talking about. A guard from his behind looks in your direction from the corner of your eye. You did as the man in front of you asked, only using your peripherals to keep most of your focus on him. Miguel’s eyes are fully on you.

“We’ll have to go down the hall.” You say in a low voice.

His fingers press into your lower back to decrease your space, going along with the front of that he didn’t hear you. As if his senses weren’t already on ten.

“No choice?” He asks.

“Not seeing any other way around it. We’re going to have to get that guy to move.”

“Fantástico.” He mutters sarcastically, switching your perspective around once again with his lead in the dance. You can’t help but take a glance down at both of your feet, realizing just how in sync he is with his steps. “You’re a pretty good dancer.”

His face contorts to confusion, blasphemy even. “You think this is good?”

You shrug. “I’ve met a lot of people with two left feet. Terrible crowd for the club scene.”

Your jest earns you a short huff. “This isn’t even music to really dance to, much less just a step around with feet.”

“Classical is timeless to those who hold onto it. Including snobs with their heads up their ass.”

He grunts with distaste before a pondering moment of silence falls over you both. You watch him take a look at your feet as both of you follow his motions. “Maybe I’ll show you what the real stuff is.”

His mutter allows for something unknown to stir in your chest. The hand that grips his gives him a taunting squeeze. “I challenge you to.”

“To teach you a thing or two?”

Your head tilts. “Who said I couldn’t dance?”

He goes to speak, but your eyes cutting away from him stops him. He notices quickly how you spot something, the cogs slowly turning in your head.

“The one by the hall.”

“Mhm?”

“There’s one way we can get him to move.”

You surprise him by moving in your direction, turning him to your previous position where he faces the holographic instruments. Your eyes watch his face slowly draw his conclusion, looking down at you with an affirming nod.

Once you’ve secured a drink in your hand, you play out the routine of a drunken beauty. You pull out the charming smile a few giggles wandering about your eyes, catch the closest person to the panels and your foot goes behind theirs. And with a swift motion make it all seems like an accident and their drink spills onto the holographic base. It shocks with electricity, causing the crowd to gasp. You let out a dramatic gasp of your own. Miguel was right behind you as he put his hand over his mouth. Bastava quickly notices how the music ends up properly, and it goes on to address the crowd. “People people not to worry, we have mechanics on hand for this!”

His guests give him a small clap. He relishes it in full before turning to your targeted guard and signaling him to get assistance. As the guard leaves, you both look at each other in a quick glance before going into fits of fake giggles. People step back from the panels, creating a cluster of distractions, and the both of you slip down the hall with ease.

As a pair, you take cautious steps down the hallway. Each of your eyes darts left and right, looking for a space that could remotely resemble an office. Miguel was on a determined path, the sooner he could get this done, the sooner he didn't have to feel like he was suffocating.

“Wait-” You stop him. He turns around quickly, looking to the same door you do— noticeably with a keypad right beside it. You both share a look, stepping into the door. Miguel looks over his shoulder to keep watch while you pull that square glass tool from the fabric of your attire. You press a few hologram buttons then face it towards the keypad. It takes a scan of it, lighting with a projection of which numbers had the most fingerprints. The more you could do with that thing, the more curious you were about the arachnid hero.

The keypad clicks with a green light and with a part of your attire in your hand, you open the door. To your surprise the space was normal looking compared to the heights Bastava would go for extravagance. A glass panel wall was behind the desk. To the left were large cabinets, and even enough space for two lounge chairs. Miguel goes to the right at the tech board whirling to life at his presence. All of Alchemax at his fingertips if he wished. His hand itched to take control of it but he had to remain on task, making sure that their fall would be from a higher drop. You catch how he sighs with frustration, turning back to you, and hovering over the computer. “Another drive?”

“Another drive.” He says, practically trying to convince himself.

You eye him up and down, giving him a short nod and turning back to the computer. “You don’t think there’d be any physical files we’d miss?”

Miguel scoffs. “I doubt it.”

Thanks to another scan of fingerprints, your go through two attempts to finally get the password. From there you slide out of the way for Miguel to take over. As he does so, you go to the door to keep watch. Your eyes keep to the crack you let open, ears catching the clicks of the keywords and various sounds. One sounded promising with a BING!

“How long?” You ask with your eyes still on the hallway.

“Twenty minutes.”

“Be fucking for real-”

“Anyone out there?”

“No-”

“-then shut the hell up. I’ll make it go as fast as I can.”

You snicker under your breath. “Shocker.”

You hear him exhale through his nose.

Fifteen minutes pass with smooth sailing. You have yet to see a passerby to the stairs. Miguel keeps his focus on the computer for a long while, leaving you in silence, until his head perks up abruptly. So abruptly, that you whip your head around in his direction. His face scrunches. when you turn your head around, you see what might be the cause: Bastava, coming up the stairs and heading in your direction.

You turn to Miguel. “How long?” His eyes go back to the computer “Five, maybe three minutes?”

You cursed under your breath, your body starting to fill with tension. Your eyes go back out to the crack in the door. Bastava stumbles slightly, but he doesn’t lose his way.

Your tone shifts to urgency. “Miguel-”

“I’m working on it.”

With one more head turn, you see that he’s only three pieces away. You feel your heart drop quickly, shutting the door as quietly and as quickly as possible.

“Shocking-” You don’t finish the curse when something tugs your arm. Your head whips around to get only a split second of Miguel pulling you towards an opened large cabinet. Taking you both inside, he shuts the door just in time for his senses to pick up the click of the keypad.

You control your breathing the best you can after the rush of adrenaline. Your chests graze each other each time you quietly breathe. There’s a stumbling of feet, a chair sliding against the marble floor that causes you two to wince. Miguel recognizes Bastava’s voice. “Hey there, gorgeous…no no, I’m not busy at all. Just want you..to come by…maybe after the party, eh?”

You roll your eyes, turning your head in the direction of the call to hear any sign of a goodbye. Miguel was doing the same, brows furrowing suddenly. As soon as you turn your neck something immediately takes hold of him. His nostrils fill with your scent, something new, he caught. It had to be that or perhaps his senses being on eleven ever since he heard Bastava coming up the steps. He closes his eyes, the scent envelops him whole with a tilt of his head.

“What are you wearing?”

The question snaps your head his way in an instant. You look him up and down. “Under-?”

“Your fragrance.” He said with a hard tone. You question if there was restraint in his voice. Your eyes linger on him before answering. “It’s new…picked it up for tonight.”

He hums quietly. Scarlet eyes still bore into your being even when you turn to listen for Bastava. The chairman was still on the phone. Something still along the lines of convincing someone to come over— Miguel couldn’t process his words, much less comprehend them. He was tuning his words out and into your heartbeat instead. His felt like it was quickening to your pace— a light thump loose of the threads of adrenaline.

You turn your head back, startled at how his eyes look. They were almost…carnal…in a way that you only knew how.

Your tongue swipes over your bottom lip, causing him to let out a low “Don’t.”

He catches your eyes in a heated gaze. It didn’t help how close you both were. He wouldn’t have to move much to wrap around you. Your breath quickens, latching onto the sight of his parted lips. He does the same with yours, breath even heavier.

Bastava’s tone picks up. “Well, what can I do to convince you, baby? Just because we aren’t public doesn’t mean…” He scoffs with abrasiveness. “…Yes, it doesn’t matter- we’ve gone over this-”

He’s in an argument now, you know that much from that point. Everything goes in and out with your focus shifting entirely on Miguel. His eyes go lower, not to your lips anymore, but to your neck. His tongue suddenly felt *dry*, nose taking inhale after inhale of you and taking him further down the rabbit hole. Your eyes never leave him when an arm sneaks around your lower back to pull you into his body. You meet his head to line it with your own. With each of your breathing tickling the other’s face, you feel how worked he is.

Your breath hitches when he shoves his face into your neck. His air is hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your hand goes to the back of his head in case you slip. His feet shuffle mere centimeters to place his other hand on the wall by your head.

“Carajo..” He mutters against you, head flooded by your scent. Now that he was fully surrounded by it, his senses soothed— barely, but enough to not raise suspicion. Your heartbeat was picking up, thumping inside his head. You feel something wet graze your neck in a slow lick, making you inhale tightly.

You’re trying to listen out for the man outside but it was growing difficult with the way Miguel was nosing your neck, as if there was any space left he had to get rid of. Every now and then, his lips brush against your neck and makes you shift under him. The hand on your back adds pressure.

“Thought you could handle me.”

“I can handle you just…” You let out a shaky exhale. “…fine.”

Miguel’s huff turns into a muffled sigh.

“…See that wasn’t so hard, cupcake. You get your sweet little ass over here after the party…Eleven…bye.”

You hear Bastava take a large gulp then sigh. A few steps go past you, making you both hold your breath. The steps stop for a few minutes then fade off to the other side of the room. You hear the door open and then shut, but you knew better than to rush out. You steady your breathing to become background noise to Miguel’s senses. He could still hear your heart calming and now, the steps of the chairman’s dress shoes echoing down his vast hall. He only eases when he knows Bastava is going down the stairs. “We’re good.”

He turns his head to be met with your nose brushed against his. Your eyes were big looking into his own. He knew you were wondering what the hell came over him. The one thing you did know was that all of what he was doing wasn’t to start anything but to give himself restraint.

Miguel swallows before you both leave the cabinet without another word.

Leaving the scene felt like the easiest part of the whole night. You two pretend to giggle drunkenly together back into the foyer, just in time to for Bastava to close the night. You slip into the leaving crowd to waddle alongside them. And since you felt eyes on you, you knew Miguel wasn’t too far behind.

You look out at Neuva’s brightly colored building from your passenger window. The car was heavy with silence, you could practically feel the weight of it right in the pit of your stomach. His hand on your thigh *certainly* didn’t help. The arachnid kept his eyes on the road, only keeping focus by kneading your flesh. Miguel glances at you through the interior mirror. Your lips were slightly obscured as you rested your chin in your palms but he could imagine them all the same.

Taking notice of the scenery, your exit flies past you at a moment’s notice.

“Not going back to my-?”

“No.”

You turn to catch his eyes in the mirror, quiet in both of your stares. Your lids lower. “…work-related?”

He turns his gaze back to the road and squeezes your thigh in his grip.

“…No.”

taglist: @manchuria @mezzke @rea-zxv @vvitcxen @pooiooi @jowtaro @deputy-videogamer @vegas-writing-den @m150-50up @simplysolo @timotheesrealgf @thecityofspareparts @miguelsfangs (dunno why it won’t let me tag you guys, trying to figure it out!)

[hollowed-theory-hall]

do you have thoughts on the diary horcrux and why it seems to have been so much more sentient than the other horcuxes? (also do u think riddle could really have come out of the diary?). thank you for all your incredible meta.

Thank you for your compliments! 😊

So, I kinda have thoughts about anything Harry Potter related, so, yeah.

Okay, I'll start with the second part, actually. Tom Riddle in the diary definitely thought he could come out of the diary, and he seemed to be correct. By taking Ginny's life force he was able to appear outside of the diary. And according to Harry, he got more solid as he took more of her life:

but the longer Riddle stood there, the more life was dwindling out of Ginny . . . and in the meantime, Harry noticed suddenly, Riddle’s outline was becoming clearer, more solid. . . . If it had to be a fight between him and Riddle, better sooner than later

(CoS, page 292)

As for the magical theory of why it worked, I already mentioned here that in Alchemy, everything is alive. Everything that is alive is made up of three components:

1. Soul (Sulfur)

2. Body (Salt)

3. Life (Mercury)

So what Tom is doing is stealing Ginny's mercury — her life — he says as much:

But there isn’t much life left in her [Ginny]. . . . She put too much into the diary, into me.

(CoS, page 289)

Now a life can only be used to create something equal to it — another life. If you want to bring someone who isn't alive (dead or unliving, like the diary) to life, you'll need another life to do it. It's a life-for-a-life scenario since in Alchemy everything works according to the law of equivalent exchange.

This law means all energy or components can only transform into something equal to it. If you want to cast a spell, you'll need to put magical energy in it equal to the effect you want to cause.

It's the same here. He kills Ginny and gets his own life in exchange for hers.

What somewhat bothers me about it is that he seems to have a body get created as well. Like, his current body (salt) is the diary itself, hence why when Harry stabbed it he died, but he was making himself a new one. The only way to do that, is to extert something of equal energy. In this case, I believe it was Ginny's magic. He wasn't just pulling out her life to create a life for himself he was pulling her magic to make him a body:

But there isn’t much life left in her. . . . She put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last. . . .

(CoS, page 289)

He says she put too much into the diary, not just life. I believe he was feeding on her magic too, which leads into the first part of your question.

I don't think he's necessarily more sentient. Like, I think all Horcruxes could be as sentient as the diary. And we see the locket become more sentient as the trio wears it. And I think that's the crux of it.

The Horcruxes seem to steal magic from their surroundings, which makes them more powerful and more sentient as a result. The diary spent years in Lucius Malfoy’s office, sucking up bits of magic from him and anyone else who visited that office. Then he had a whole year of Ginny (and Harry for a bit) writing to him. This all means he has plenty of magic to make him sentient.

The other Horcruxes, in contrast, didn't really have any human interaction until their destruction. Besides the locket, which we do see growing in sentience:

“There was a locket.” “What?” said Harry and Ron together. “In the cabinet in the drawing room. Nobody could open it...”

(DH, page 166)

No sentience in OoTP, nothing felt magical about the locket.

“Can you feel it, though?” Ron asked in a hushed voice, as he held it tight in his clenched fist. “What d’you mean?” Ron passed the Horcrux to Harry. After a moment or two, Harry thought he knew what Ron meant. Was it his own blood pulsing through his veins that he could feel, or was it something beating inside the locket, like a tiny metal heart?

(DH, page 239)

After Umbridge wore it for a bit, it had more sentience. It has a heartbeat, it feels alive like it didn't before. Hermione doesn't mention this sense existing the first time, and that's because this pulse wasn't there.

She held out her hands, and Harry lifted the golden chain over his head. The moment it parted contact with Harry’s skin he felt free and oddly light. He had not even realized that he was clammy or that there was a heavy weight pressing on his stomach until both sensations lifted. “Better?” asked Hermione. “Yeah, loads better!”

(DH, page 249)

And the longer they wear it, the more effect the locket has. The more magic it has to become more sentient and influence the trio. Throughout Deathly Hollwos, the Horcrux becomes more powerful the longer they wear it:

Then something closed tight around his neck. He thought of water weeds, though nothing had brushed him as he dived, and raised his empty hand to free himself. It was not weed: The chain of the Horcrux had tightened and was slowly constricting his windpipe.

(DH, page 321)

The Horcrux was still swinging from Ron’s hand. The locket was twitching slightly. Harry knew that the ting inside it was agitated again. It had sensed the presence of the sword and had tried to kill Harry rather than let him possess it.

(DH, page 321)

Then a voice hissed out from the Horcrux. “I have seen your heart, and it is mine.” “Don’t listen to it!” Harry said harshly. “Stab it!” “I have seen your dreams, Ronald Weasley, and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible. . . . ”

(DH, page 325)

So, I think it's all a matter of how much magic you feed the Horcrux.

[margindoodles2407]

Heyyy @seeking-elsewhither. You know how I'm giving you a HFSW Bad Batcher a day until you stop being sick. Well since I missed it yesterday,,, and you need your guys,,, well I went to draw Tech and things got. Out of hand

Closeups and notes under the cut

Goggles

You do not know how hard Tech's hair is to get right

So! His goggles I actually struggled over for months and months because, you know. They're hard to draw. And then I found these on Pinterest and all my problems were solved forever. (SERIOUSLY THOUGH I WANT THESE. I MEAN LOOKIT THEM THEY EVEN HAVE THE IMPERIAL INSIGNIA ON THE LENSES)

Now obviously my drawing skills mean I have to scale these down immensely but as you can see. These are not your everyday, run-of-the-mill goggles. Tech built them himself (actually most of his armor was either custom-built or modified) and so they've got some special features built in.

So Tech's an artificier, cause it's High Fantasy Star Wars, and they don't have computers but they sure as heck do have alchemy. One of his modifications is the addition of little lights mounted to the barrels of his lenses, for working at night/in low light, or with materials that need to be illuminated to function properly. The other main addition happens to be the extra magnification lenses mounted to his left lens barrel. He can adjust these as needed when working.

Upper Body Armor

Bro really went ☝ (you know i had to do it to him)

Okay so in the absence of his datapad he carries around his journal. That he is constantly writing in. It also has a panel on the front cover in which he can store some of his vials, because I think that's cool and it's my AU and I Can Do What I Want.

In fact, his writing in his journal is so frequent that he actually has a pen holder mounted to his left pauldron, so when he needs to take a note of anything he can just reach over and lo and behold there it is. (He's also the in-universe inventor of pre-filled fountain pens, because it's too much of a hassle to pull out a quill and a bottle of ink any time he needs to write in the middle of the field.)

His upper arm "armor" actually consists of little bags he keeps various things in, including a bottle of ink for when he needs to refill his fountain pen. Other trinkets include small amounts of alchemical ingredients and small personal trinkets (including, after his ID ring is removed, the chains it was kept on. side side note but while the clones who had their rings removed destroyed the rings themselves, they kept the chains because of the symbolism of brotherhood they carried. a lot of them reworked them back into a single loop and wore them around their necks, like they did when they were cadets.).

And then of course there is the Backpack of Many Things (tm) in which he keeps his many things, including but not limited to: alchemical bottles (both full and empty), bags and boxes and tubes of alchemical ingredients (he has an organizational system), backup journals (for when his current journal fills up, currently he has somewhere around twenty-seven full journals and he's been keeping them consistently since he was at least four-eight), medical supplies (common sense), non-perishable food items (also common sense), a waterskin and several empty extras (also ALSO common sense), his wallet (also also ALSO common sense), and his work instruments (knives, mortar and pestle, stoppers, eyedroppers, stirring sticks, measuring cups, et cetera et cetera).

Right Gauntlet Closeup

On his right arm, Tech wears a special leather gauntlet (as opposed to the metal bracer on his left arm) that, surprise surprise, also carries Things (tm).

He's got a little box (in which to keep miscellanea) that also functions as a holder for- you guessed it- more alchemical vials.

There's also a watch that double-functions as a thermometer and lunar calendar (there's a second face under the clock that has the thermometer, and the lunar calendar you see through a little cut-out window towards the bottom; it's got a little picture of the current phase of the moon in it).

This gauntlet doesn't have any heavy-duty finger armor on it cause he needs dexterous use of his dominant fingers. Also, it was the hand he wore his ID ring on, and with how bulky and complicated that gauntlet is, it was uncomfortable to have any major obstructions to the phlanges there.

Lower Body Armor

Featuring a full view of his cuirass! It... is in very low definition cause this is a small doodle mainly focusing on the legs XD

Okay so on his belt he has larger bottles full of chemicals that would need to be used often and reached quickly. It's not shown here but he does also have a book holster in which he keeps his journal for easy access.

Then there's his leather overskirt, which he wears to kind of cushion his bottles and book holster so they're not constantly chafing against his legs. It also serves as his upper-leg protection in place of full-leg greaves, and especially as a precaution in case any of his bottles ever shatter (protection against both whatever's in the bottle AND broken glass).

He does wear padded knee armor, since, you know, he's gotta kneel down a lot to study stuff and he needs to prevent early-onset knee damage XD

Finally, his boots; they do have the heaviest protection of all his lower-body armor (steel toes and heels, and tough shin guards), but they also double as- surprise!- a place to Hold More Stuff. Yes, he even has little pouches on his legs. I swear he carries like, all of his material possessions with him. If it can't be on his person at all times then why would he own it? (This does not apply to the piano he built into one of the Marauder's walls; I'll talk about that when I make that post about Clones and Music.)

Helmet

Okay so as you can see his helmet is unique because he actually had to design it himself. (Actually, all of Clone Force 99 have unique helmets, but Tech's is unique because it's not a historical style of helmet.) It's built in two separate pieces: a face plate, and a helm; this is so that, even when helmeted, he still has access to his goggles.

Other than that, it's pretty simple as far as helmets go. He did add the antennae just for funsies, but actually they're not really for funsies because he's Tech and everything he does has a Purpose (tm); they're incredibly sharp where they slot into the helmet and he can take them out as a secret weapon in life-or-death situations.

The other big thing is that the cheek guards of his helm are sculpted to look like Tern wings; Clone Force 99 are all Commandos, and as stated previously, Commandos are denoted by the fact that their helmets have wings mounted to them. Of the Batch, only Hunter and Cross have *actual* wings on their helms, but Tech and Wrecker still have the wing motif. (If you want to see the process behind this, and also what bird every Batcher claims, Evie and I had a long talk about it a few months ago, which I will link here. you may have to go into the notes to read the tags to get the complete picture but i assure you it's all there)

[madamefluffnstuff]

Can I request a one shot of Fennorian working hard in his study but Vestige comes in and convinces him to relax 🥺

@rvnwtch and I both had the same idea, and *I* originally got the idea from a post by @i-simp-for-fennorian :3 (which I can no longer find the original post on Tumblr but I can find it on Google for some reason! :,D)

Also thought it would be very appropriate for their Ravenwatch Posting Event.~

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Fennorian?" A soft voice called down the hallway. No answer came. The Vestige walked down the corridor until she reached a familiar door. Inside, the faint sound of bubbling and glass clinking could be heard. A book page turning, followed by a hasty quill scribbling, and the unsettling noise of glass sliding on metal, most likely from the aforementioned vampire moving a test tube from its rack.

"Fenn?" She asked again as she slowly opened the door and poked her head in.

Fennorian had his back to the entrance, arm raised as he held a tiny glass tube up by a hanging lamp. The candlelight revealed a thick, viscous looking fluid with a bright red hue.

Not blood, but a prototype for the Harrowstorm elixir.

"Ah, my friend. Good to see you," he responded, clearly distracted and not completely aware. He placed the test tube back in its slot and plucked some snowberries from a nearby bowl, extracting a few seeds in a practiced motion. The seeds disappeared into the elixir.

"...How long have you been down here?" The Vestige asked as she walked in, very worried and surprised at what she was seeing;

His normally neat and organized workspace was cluttered. Various jars were opened on the shelves, in various stages of being emptied. Lids were strewn about. Papers with notes and sketches and diagrams were scattered about the desks. If one tilted their head and squinted, they would notice slight stains of various colors on his fingers and gloves.

"A few days." He leaned over his most recent notebook and scribbled something down. "I'm on the verge of a breakthrough."

"I've... never seen you this... well. Focused. When did you last feed?" She quickly stepped out of his way as he bustled to another shelf of reagents.

"I have my flask. And an extra, just in case. I'm rationing."

In Fennorian's defense, he did look like he had recently consumed. That did not excuse the fact he clearly hadn't left the laboratory in some time. The Vestige knew the vampire alchemist had a tendency to get tunnel vision when he was focused on his work, but this was bad even for him. What in the world had gotten into him?

"You've obviously been busy."

Fenn nodded, straightening up and turning to the alchemy table. He wordlessly picked up a beaker with a clear liquid inside and poured it into one of the tubes with the red fluid. Almost immediately there was a small plume of colored smoke and a pungent, musky smell, like the local badgers when they marked their territory on the trees. Fenn made a noise.

"No. No, that didn't work," he reached for the quill and ink pot.

"Okay, no." The Vestige interrupted him. "This has gone on too long. You need to take a break."

The alchemist shook his head vigorously. "I am sorry, my friend. I appreciate your concern, but I assure you I'm quite alright."

For a split second he almost sounded convincing.

"Fenn, please," the worry evident in her voice. "You're going to wear yourself out. You need to come up for air eventually."

Fennorian returned to his previous location, where his back was turned to her. "I know you're worried, Vestige. But like I said-" he picked up a cylindrical beaker, "-this elixir has to be perfect or-"

"Fennorian Ravenwatch."

He froze. The room filled with a stunned silence. He had never heard her use that tone of voice with him before. Nor had she used his full name before. At least when addressing him. He blinked.

The quiet was broken by the Vestige sighing and walking over to him. "Look... I know this is important to you. Believe me, it's important to me as well," her voice gentle and patient. "But you need to take care of yourself."

He felt her hand on his shoulder. He had to fight the urge to bring his own hand up and hold hers. Instead he gripped the edge of the desk and the beaker still in his other hand.

The Vestige leaned over to look at him. His hair was hiding his face, some plastered to his forehead with tense sweat. Fennorian was very relieved at that moment she couldn't see his eyes. He didn't want her to see him like this. See that she was right. And that it took her raising her voice for him to realize it.

She gently took the glass from his hand and set it on the table, replacing it with her hand. In the same soft voice, she said "I can't make you leave, of course. But, whenever you're ready to take a break and rest, I'll be upstairs." She squeezed his hand, then turned around to leave him to his work.

"...Come here."

The Vestige jumped a little as she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist and gently lift her up. She turned her head and locked eyes with Fennorian.

"Fenn, what-"

"Just. Stay here for a bit. I'm almost finished with this page. After that, I'll take a break."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Promise?"

He walked back over, her still in his arms, and set her down on the desk, just to the side of his papers. "I promise."

And true to his word, he finished his writing much quicker than she thought he would. In between quill strokes, she would lean over and place soft kisses on his temple. With each peck he visibly relaxed more and more. Before they knew it, he was closing his book and tying the cord around it. The Vestige hopped off the desk and lead him out of the laboratory, the two hand in hand.

~*~

Fennorian stared up at the Vestige, a tired smile on his face as he rested his head in her lap. She looked down at him, also smiling while her fingers worked slow circles into the sides of his head. Their bed was a very welcome reprieve after days in the laboratory.

He adjusted himself and folded his hands across his chest, using her legs as arm rests. She asked if he was comfortable, to which he responded with a nod. With a slight smirk, the Vestige brought her pointer finger to her lips, made a little kissing noise, and pressed her finger to his forehead in a "boop". Fenn laughed.

That laugh was the best thing the Vestige had heard all week.

[amythestsimmer]

So, as I was watching @whinybrit's "Playing as a spellcaster because chat GPT told me to! // Sims 4 AI challenge" video, I got the idea of seeing if I can make a Legacy Challenge with ChatGPT. So I did! There aren't enough legacy challenges that are for occults. I had it made!

General Rules:

No Cheats: Apart from resetting money to the correct amount when starting.

Lifespan: Set to "Normal."

Heir Selection: Any child can be chosen as the heir, but they must follow the next generation’s theme.

Mods and Custom Content: Allowed if they do not provide unfair advantages.

Recommendations: Zer0's mods, @sp-creates Werewolf mod.

Legacy:

Generation 1: The Founder

Traits: Ambitious, Family-Oriented, Creative

Aspiration: Successful Lineage

Career: Business - Management

Goals:

Reach level 10 in the Business career.

Marry and have at least 3 children.

Build a house worth at least 50,000 Simoleons.

Appearance: Professional and elegant. Formal wear often includes suits or business dresses.

Challenge: Start with no more than 1,800 Simoleons after purchasing the lot and build your house gradually.

Generation 2: The Enchanter

Traits: Bookworm, Good, Genius

Aspiration: Spellcraft and Sorcery

Career: None (Focus on magic and alchemy)

Goals:

Become a Spellcaster and reach the Virtuoso rank.

Master the Practical Magic and Alchemy branches.

Collect all magic tomes and potions.

Appearance: Mystical and scholarly. Often seen wearing robes or mystical attire.

Challenge: Never hold a traditional job; instead, earn money through magical means.

Generation 3: The Day Walker

Traits: Music Lover, Perfectionist, Loner

Aspiration: Master Vampire

Career: Entertainer - Musician

Goals:

Become a Grand Master Vampire.

Master the Pipe Organ skill.

Turn at least 5 Sims into vampires.

Appearance: Dark and elegant, favoring Victorian-era clothing.

Challenge: Complete the entire branch of sunlight resistance.

Generation 4: The Ocean’s Embrace

Traits: Child of the Ocean, Loves Outdoors, Cheerful

Aspiration: Beach Life

Career: Conservationist - Marine Biologist

Goals:

Become a mermaid/merman.

Clean up Sulani and complete the Beach Life aspiration.

Have at least 3 children who also become mermaids/mermen.

Appearance: Beachy and relaxed. Often wears swimwear or tropical attire.

Challenge: Live in Sulani and never move out of the island.

Generation 5: The Alien Ambassador

Traits: Geek, Clumsy, Genius

Aspiration: Nerd Brain

Career: Scientist

Goals:

Discover the Sixam world.

Max out the Rocket Science and Logic skills.

Complete the Nerd Brain aspiration.

Appearance: Futuristic and sleek. Often wears metallic or space-themed clothing.

Challenge: Build a rocket ship and use it regularly to explore space.

Generation 6: The Spirit Medium

Traits: Gloomy, Good, Neat

Aspiration: Friend of the World

Career: Paranormal Investigator

Goals:

Befriend and communicate with at least 10 ghosts.

Max out the Medium skill.

Complete the Paranormal Investigator freelance career.

Appearance: Gothic and ethereal. Often wears dark and flowing garments.

Challenge: Live in a haunted house and conduct regular séances.

Generation 7: The Big Bad Wolf

Traits: Hot-Headed, Active, Loves Outdoors

Aspiration: Leader of the Pack

Career: Athlete - Professional Athlete

Goals:

Become the Alpha of a werewolf pack.

Max out the Fitness and Charisma skills.

Turn at least 3 Sims into werewolves.

Appearance: Rugged and athletic. Often wears casual and durable clothing.

Challenge: Must fight and win against other werewolves to establish dominance.

Generation 8: The Green Thumb

Traits: Green Fiend, Vegetarian, Loves Outdoors

Aspiration: Freelance Botanist

Career: Gardener - Botanist

Goals:

Become a PlantSim and maintain PlantSim form.

Max out the Gardening and Herbalism skills.

Complete the Freelance Botanist aspiration.

Appearance: Natural and earthy. Often wears green and floral-themed clothing.

Challenge: Grow and maintain a perfect garden with at least one of each type of plant.

Generation 9: The Mechanical Marvel

Traits: Perfectionist, Geek, Loner

Aspiration: Computer Whiz

Career: Engineer - Mechanical Engineer

Goals:

Build and maintain Servo robots.

Max out the Robotics and Programming skills.

Complete the Computer Whiz aspiration.

Appearance: Techy and modern. Often wears futuristic or robotic-themed clothing.

Challenge: Create and maintain at least one Servo robot that becomes part of the household.

Generation 10: The Hybrid

Traits: Creative, Ambitious, Cheerful

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim

Career: Freelance - Any Branch

Goals:

Have traits or abilities from at least two different occult types.

Master at least 3 different skills.

Complete the Renaissance Sim aspiration.

Appearance: Unique and eclectic. Mixes elements from various occult-themed clothing.

Challenge: Achieve maximum levels in three different occult-related skills or abilities.

Written into reality by ChapGPT, ideas and goals are by me! Enjoy!

[creedock]

anaywyas. music headcanons

heartless: i think heartless is at that point where he likes music but hasn't really explored it much beyond pretty well known bands. his favourites are queen and weezer.

alchemy: i imagine they'd probably listen to musical soundtracks a lot. he also listens to marina and mitski and that kinda stuff

flint: nu metal. also workout tracks but mostly metal. metalhead flint REAL

eira: like heartless, a weezer fan. he also listens to lemon demon and will wood

doppel: edm, but like. the very experimental kind.

glass: likes a lot of kinda. weird-core style music? he definitely listens to oliver buckland

river: i think river probably just likes any music she can chill to. she definitely has a lot of those "lo-fi beats to study and relax to" playlists saved

alastor: raging tradgoth. Bauhaus. The sisters of mercy. 45 Grave. lorelei is also trying to brainwash him into being a swiftie

lorelei: not actually a swiftie, she just likes making al suffer. she listens to the sound of children crying. i also think she listens to bands like rasputina and the dresden dolls

diana: country. i don't think i need to elaborate here

lance: another weezer fan. also listens to some nu metal

bandy: circus march.

dock: i think they wear headphones but dont play any music. if you hand them the aux they'll just play white noise.

moira: dad rock kinda? she introduced heartless to queen. listens to stuff like squeeze, ac/dc, joan jett, etc.

krome: weezer fan. i promise this is the last one. I also think he'd listen to classical music quite a bit

brooke: chamber pop. also like. a bit of riot grrrl type stuff?

arthyr: well. um. weezer- *Gets shot*

Murphy: copyright-free youtube ukelele music

[aspoonofsugar]

Life, Death And Rust

The Parfait Predicament is that the Parfait is the least important thing that happens this episode :P

Here are some thoughts on what we got this week.

THE CYCLE OF LIFE AND DEATH

When we break or wear out or simply finish what we were made to do we are called back (...) I know, I know. Wehre you come from, things die, but we are not like you at all. We ascend. Herb will have his purpose again.

The CC's speech and Ever After's creatures not dying, but "ascending" ties into 2 themes dear to RWBY and Ruby:

Grief

Creation and Destruction

Both ideas come together in The Cycle of Life and Death, which is illustrated (or at least hinted at) in the character of the mysterious Blacksmith:

The Blacksmith's role seems to be collecting lost weapons and to use their metal to forge something new. When it comes to this, she is similar to Jinxy:

Jinxy takes things that are lost, changes their shapes and gives people the chance to get them back, if they are willing to pay the price. It is possible that what is left unsold is then given to the Blacksmith, who gives new life to it.

Two details have interested me of the Blacksmith's introduction:

She is made of gold and her workplace is all gold

She is forging a butterfly

Both are important symbols in the series.

Gold is the perfect metal and the objective of alchemy. The characters are going through the scale of metals and getting more and more refined, so that they can become gold. Pyrrha is gold to begin with and is the first one to become a true Huntress and to end her arc. Penny dies surrounded by a golden cloud because she goes from copper (her metal) to gold and reaches perfection. (This also ties with Pinocchio's fairy tale btw). In short, gold is important and the Blacksmith being covered in it frames her as an alchemist. Someone who starts reactions and transforms things.

Butterflies are symbols of transformation, of death and rebirth. So, it is important the Blacksmith is forging this specific animal. It may hint to how she is some kind of God in the Ever After. Or at least, that her role is God-Like. People who lose themselves in the Ever After come to her in the form of weapons and metals. She reworks them and gives them new life. The Butterfly might even be a reference to Herb, who "ascended" and is now being "fixed up".

So, what does all of it has to do with Ruby?

RUBY RIDING HOOD

(I have yet to write a full analysis of Ruby's allusion, I only have snippets of it for now. However, the imagery this episode was rather strong)

Ruby's meeting with the Blacksmith develops 2 ideas already present in the previous episode:

Her Journey Through Grief

Her Loss of Identity

So far, each episode has explored a specific stage of grief. Let's review:

Episode 1 > Denial

Episode 2 > Bargaining

Episode 3 > Anger

Episode 4 > Depression

Last week I identified episode 4 as Acceptance, but now I think it was depression (both Ruby and Herb are depressed). What is true is that it ends with the concept of Acceptance, which is fully developed this episode. The CC's speech and the appearance of the Blacksmith hint to this idea. Ruby, however, is still far away from fully reaching this stage.

Still, she is slowly getting closer to fully facing her ghosts, even if it is difficult to say if this is a good or bad thing right now:

The Blacksmith's weapons give Ruby 3 different mirror images:

Penny

Alyx

Summer

Why is that so? @lintuwaterfall shared a theory where they could represent Id, Ego and Superego (these are their words):

Penny - Id - Desire - She has deep feelings about her friend

Alyx - Ego - Reality - Doing what one can to survive in the world

Summer - Super-Ego - The ideal set out by a Parent

I quite like this idea and whatever the case, it is clear Penny, Alyx and Summer represent 3 parts of Ruby. In particular, they could once again allude to past, present and future (just like Neo's allusion while Ruby is falling may):

Penny is a lot like Ruby's past idealistic self. They became friends precisely because they were so similar. This is also why when Penny came back it is as if Ruby could find her childhood and innocent self once again.

Alyx went through a journey very similar to Ruby to the point they are often paralleled and juxtaposed. Alyx is described as a girl running from herself and she probably lost herself eventually.

Summer is set up to be Ruby's future. She is who Ruby has always wanted to be. An ideal she has been chasing after. She is the self Ruby has always wanted to become. Until recently, at least.

In short, the Blacksmith's scene is just Ruby going through the exact same pattern she did last episode with Herb. There she meets her past self, who asks her who she wants to become and suggests she may meet the same fate as Summer. Here, those unsolved and repressed feelings manifest themselves in a more subtle ways through the weapons.

This may also be why Ruby goes from Penny's beautiful sword:

To Alyx's humble and small knife:

From an ideal:

Ruby: Not just a powerful warrior, the most powerful to ever lived. She was touched by magic, and she gave her life for thousands. She took a message of hope to the stars, and she saw the world through better eyes. Take us to the royal birthday, and allow us to present this most precious gift.

To reality, which is much less beautiful and impressive:

The Blacksmith: What are you? Are you lost?

Ruby starts as beautiful as Penny's sword, a precious gem (rubies and jades), but has right now turned into a smaller knife. The question is... who will she become? Which weapon will she choose to wield?

Blacksmith: If you change your mind, you may choose anyone of these you like.

As for now, she seems to be willing to let go of her past self to a degree that is almost dangerous and destructive:

Ruby: Here, I'll give you this! It carries a mother's promise!

A moment after seeing a glimpse of Summer in herself, she immediately bargains away a reminder of her. Just like she gives up Penny's sword after getting it in order to meet the Red Prince. Ruby has just gone through the stages of grief when it comes to Penny. However, Penny's death has now forced her to go even deeper and to face Summer's. She is probably going through the stages once again, so that she can deal with Summer. Only then she will be able to accept both her friend (her inner child) and her mother (her future ideal self)'s deaths. And change.

RUSTED JAUNE

It is too soon to say for sure, but so far Jaune seems a foil to Ruby when it comes to dealing with grief and identity.

It is implied Ruby wishes to forget:

Ruby: When Herbs come back... will he remember anything?

And she is willing to let go of herself completely. To self-destroy:

Young Ruby: You can do whatever you want! Be whoever you want! You don't even have to be Ruby Rose.

The first glimpse we get of Jaune instead suggests he wants to remember:

He calls his new friend Juniper

He chooses to live in an acre called "garden" and full of flowers (Nora) and leaves (Pyrrha)

The leaves have a rainbow pattern, which calls back to both his teamd and name

His house is a giant lotus (Ren)

He wears a red bow to remember Pyrrha:

He seems to have been in the Ever After for years, but he has apparently failed to change. He is still wearing his old armor or at least a similar one and his weapon is still broken:

In short, if Ruby's reaction to grief is to refuse it, to forget it and to self-destroy, Jaune's reaction seems to be not to let go when he should. Both characters clearly have to change and evolve, but Ruby only sees the relief of self-destruction, while Jaune only sees the importance of moving forward. Interesting considering they reacted in opposite ways when it comes to Pyrrha and Beacon. In general, the 2 of them seem to also have exchanged places since the beginning of the series. There Ruby was an already experienced Huntress in theory and very effective in combat. Jaune was instead unsure of his role and was often the load. In this week's episode instead we see how Ruby seems helpless when it comes to fighting, while Jaune rushes to the battlefield and basically takes Ruby's role as the 4th of her team. (This is a superficial note btw... I think the point is simply Ruby doesn't know where to fit right now, which reflects on her fighting style and willingness to fight - see the chess fight).

Basically, Ruby and Jaune explore 2 opposite and extreme reactions to grief. It is probable them both will be forced to revisit them. Ruby might have to accept her own pain, while Jaune might be asked to let go of an already consumed persona.

Obviously, Jaune's appearance might be misleading and he might have already been remade into something new. In this case, his own attachment to the past and knight persona might be an illusion to hide how broken his own identity is (the shattered sword).

Whatever the case, it is probable Jaune will be forced to change and to be remade into his true self. So, that he can finally evolve.

JAUNE AND NEO - RUSTED KNIGHT VS JABBERWALKER

We have reached the midway of the season. So, all the main characters and ingredients for the story have gathered. This means that both Jaune in the form of the Rusted Knight and Neo in the form of her illusory Jabberwalker have joined the fray and interacted with RWBY.

This gives us space for a meta commentary (this partly repeats last week's post):

Ruby is the protagonist - she even more so than the others has 2 animals guides there to help her out. Still, she is thinking of refusing her role and wants to lose herself and to be remade.

Neo is the antagonist - she multiplies the Jabber Walker aka the only antagonistic forse in the Ever After > the only thing able to kill. Symbolically, she is spreading her grief in a world which knows no death. However, she might seem to want more than just a role and is using her semblance to add new characters and potentially change the story (only 1 Jabberwalker was supposed to exist).

Jaune is the side character- he has completely fused with the story to the point the protagonists know his character even before they meet him. It is as if Jaune is running from his role of main character in RWBY to be content with an easier role in another story.

At the same time:

Ruby processes grief through wishing to destroy herself (she internilizes)

Neo processes grief through wishing to destroy others and the world (she externalizes)

Jaune processes grief through refusing destruction altogether, so he doesn't let go of his mementos and protects others even in this strange world.

We'll see where we go from there. That said, it is interesting the Rusted Knight is introduced fighting the Jabberwalker because these 2 characters are juxtaposed in the opening:

And there is clearly something going on with the Jabberwalker... are they a person trapped in the Ever After? What is their deal?

The wonderful Chatterbox's song seems to suggest there might be a problem with communication:

I don't think the Jabberwalker is evil. Rather I think they have a problem, but since they are scary, dangerous and impossible to understand people have made them be the villain. Which leads us to the final thematic highlight of this week.

CREATION AND DESTRUCTION

Weiss: It's impossible. Things have to die someday, right? CC: Goodness no! Although, I suppose there is a creature...No, no. That's not the sort of thing you talk about while in polite company.

The CC may insist there is no death in the Ever After, but there actually is in the form of the Jabberwalker. Whatever form this death takes is left to be seen. (When is it that stories die? I would say when they are forgotten or their meaning is lost... so maybe the jabberwalker not being able to articulate things might be the reason behind it?). What is sure is that the Jabberwalker is a creature of Destruction, while the Ever After is the world of Creation. And yet, Destruction and Creation can't be divided:

Weiss: I am so tired of leaving places in ashes.

So, very poignantly the Ever After is compared to Atlas. Both are Kingdoms of Creation where the inhabitants live happily and think they are untouchable. And yet, Destruction arrives and changes things.

I don't think this is the only similarity between Atlas and the Ever After, though. First of all, the 2 places appear as incredibly rich and wonderful, but both ignore their shadows:

Atlas ignores Mantle and the Ever After ignores whatever place the Jabberwalker comes from. Not only that, but both places are in the end run through control and manipulation and roles.

Each character has a role and is dismissed the moment they are not able to fulfill it anymore? Doesn't it remind you of something? Like a very utilitarian and strict military state?

Maybe this is why the CC's power seems at the same time extremely kind and extremely dangerous. Atlas explores trust, but shows how it can degenerate in control. The Ever After might introduce the theme of empathy and how it can be used for manipulation:

CC: I gave him something new to do for the moment...

MISCELLANIA- A CAT AND A MOUSE

Blacksmith: Are you her guide, little one?

Little being recognized by the Blacksmith as Ruby's guide makes me wonder... is it possible Alyx too had a guide? And if yes, could that guy have been the CC? Did they fail their role as guide and this is why they are so interested in RWBY and Ruby especially? To the point they are ready to challenge the Red Prince, to have Herb ascend, to sacrifice a Poor Bird and to risk their own life, just to protect Ruby?

It seems a little bit too much investment for character introduced as minding their own business and acting on a whim.

If so, then this take on Alice In Wonderland is a retelling where Alice fails to get home and The Cat wants to make sure the story doesn't repeat itself? And yet, the CC is not Ruby's guide. Little is. Interesting the juxtaposition between a naive little mouse (heart) and an experienced tricky cat (mind).

Finally, this week's song rocked! I am enjoying the new songs, I must say! Also, this volume's soundtrack so far seems to be about Ever After Characters. Both the Red Prince and the Jabberwalker have now their own song. Interested to see if this continues or if our titular RWBY characters will get new songs as well.

[dreamwatch]

STWG daily drabble 18/09/23

prompt: rain

****

The weathers been shitty all weekend, that light miserable drizzly rain that just saps your fucking will to live. And it’s June for fuck sake. What is it with this country?

He feels like a prick for wearing his once white high tops while he’s walking around backstage. Caked in mud, while everyone else is wearing rain boots because they’ve done this before and they’re the new boys on the scene. They’re still small fry, relatively speaking, second band on and it’s not the main stage.

Eddie doesn’t give a fuck. 

They have thirty minutes. Thirty minutes to obliterate the audience, thirty minutes to make the opener a distant memory. He wants the band coming on after them to be pissing their pants while they wait backstage.

They’ve never played in Europe before, so they’re nervous. Every band has that one story about having bottles thrown at them. He’s been told they fill the bottles with piss over here so he’d like to avoid it as much as possible.

They get the call and then they’re on the stage. And… wow. 

There are dudes right at the front with Corroded Coffin banners, he can see fans wearing t-shirts (and it’s official fucking merch) and there’s a genuine cheer from a few hundred fans who are clearly there for them. He and Jeff share a look, ‘we’re fucking here!’ and before they can even think Gareth is already counting them in.

They do five songs from the album, one new song, and a blistering cover of Battery.

As they hit their final song the granite clouds finally give up and release proper, fat rain, and Eddie watches the fans below as they get soaked to the skin, hair plastered to their faces. But they’re loving it, they’ve stood there waiting for them all morning, and they’re not running away now, if anything they’re getting more amped up.

It’s their last song, their best song. The first time he heard a crowd sing his own words back to him he thought he would cry, right there on the stage, like the fucking sap he was. He kept his shit together then.

But not today.

It might never get better than this, second stage at a metal festival in a cold miserable country in Europe, so far down the bill that most of the festival goers are still in their tents sleeping off the night before. But this, this moment right here and now, is perfection. 

He walks to the edge of the stage, puddles of water gathering, his own clothes absolutely pendulous with the weight of water. The smell of petrichor and beer, heavy metal alchemy. There has to be a couple of thousand people out there, and they’re singing back to him. The rain lashes down and he leans his head back, turns his face up to the black skies and opens his arms wide. Tears and rainwater run together.

It feels like absolution, like glory, like rebirth. His escape from his past complete. His future in the palms of thousands of hands.

They’ll play bigger shows in the years to come. They’ll come back here and work their way up to headline the main stage. They’ll have albums that sell millions.

But it will be this moment that Eddie carries with him for the rest of his life. One glorious Sunday in England, standing on a stage, bathing in the rain.

 (Afterwards Jeff tells him he looked like metal Jesus, and the name sticks for far longer than he would like.)

[krscblw]

ghoul element perfume associations!

i've done a few scent association lists for individual ghouls, and i thought it would be fun to do one for elements instead! it's a little more general, which lets me include perfume that i really like but that don't fit any of the ghouls exactly. as always, i would love your feedback!!

Usual warning: This might look weird on mobile, but it should be good on desktop. Apologies, I'd fix it if I knew how.

Earth: Dense, earthy, bitter, green scents reminiscent of forests, gardens, and ruins halfway reclaimed by nature.

Notes: wood, vetiver, greenery, moss, soil, fruit, rose, stone, fungus

Rose Fantôme - LVNEA

“Rose Fantôme breathes not the fresh blooming rose but the one that has been cut, left and forgotten. Now one with its surroundings, it blends with the scents of dried grass and lichen, hay, and dirt.” 

porcelain roses, immortelle, dried hay, graveyard soil, cepes, oakmoss, oakwood

Duende - Fantôme 

“The smell of being lost in an enchanted forest.”

oakmoss, cedar, fir, resinous labdanum, benzoin, tree sap, wild violets, lilac

(i have this one, it's forest-y but also pretty light for a forest perfume. definitely a summery, magical forest smell)

Holy Oak - LVNEA

“Holy Oak alchemizes the aromas of deep, damp oakwood and the dry warmth of cedar to evoke the sound, sight, and smell of a well-worn cabin woodframe creaking against the weight of tempestuous rainfall as it begins to slow.”

galbanum, cedar leaf, petrichor, frankincense, cedarwood, oakwood, oakmoss

Mount Auburn - Little & Grim

“A dizzying array of all the flora that buds in Massachusetts. Fragrant, fruity blossoms and towering trees shading gentle, winding paths.”

fresh raspberry, melon, honeysuckle, blooming lilac, wisteria, spruce

Love Among the Ruins - Alkemia 

“An ancient ruin of fallen stonework covered with lichen and tangles of flowering vines slowly disintegrating/returning to nature.”

stone ruins, lichen, tangles of flowering vines

Rochester - Fantôme

rich earth, crisp fallen leaves, sweet tobacco, a hint of patchouli, garden tomato, newly ripened autumn gourds

Vert Sur Le Vert - Alkemia  

green grasses, new leaves, tomato seedlings, crushed sweet grasses

Air: Scents that range from cold, sharp, and sweet to thick, powdery, and dusty – reflecting the versatility of air as an element. 

Notes: florals, musk, fruit, cold air, dust, sugar, honey, ozone

Lilacs Along the Winding Drive - Alkemia 

fresh lilacs, a gentle breeze after a light spring rain, a dusty pebbled driveway, a slightly rusty porch swing, and a small handful of late blooming violets

Hummingbird - Zoologist 

“This diaphanous scent alights upon you in a pastel bouquet of honeysuckle, mimosa, lilac and peonies, with just the lightest dusting of natural sugars found in pear, cherry and honey. A finishing dollop of velvety whipped cream melds the tantalizing notes, completing this irresistible and opulent perfume.”

apple, cherry, citrus, lilac, muguet, plum, rose, violet leaf, honey, honeysuckle, mimosa, peony, tulip, ylang, amber, coumarin, cream, moss, musks, sandalwood, white woods

Frost Flowers - LVNEA 

“Icy and cold, delicate yet jagged, floral ice crystals slowly melt to reveal a heart of dark florals at the center of this musky and enveloping oil perfume.”

tuberose, jasmine, black currant, ambrette, cypress, elemi resin

Thundersnow - Fyrinnae 

“On rare occasions within a system cold enough to produce ground level snow, the conditions are favorable for the right lifting and instability required to also produce lightning.”

cold air, electricity, metallic ozone, gasoline

Veil of Spidersilk - Nui Cobalt Designs

“Slender strands of cotton flower hung with trembling dewdrops… Wear to bless any new beginning and brighten the path ahead.”

cotton flower, dew, pale pink musk, tiny black vanilla beans, Margaret Merril rose, lily of the valley, neroli, honeysuckle, non-indolic jasmine

Mama Gein - Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab 

crushed baby’s breath dusted with baby powder

Foxfire - Alkemia 

white sugar ambers, jasmine aldehydes, night flowering nardo

Fire: Warm, heavy, lingering, spicy scents. Some fire ghouls smell like smoke and fire, but others smell like heat, metal, or spices. 

Notes: smoke, incense, spices, metal, patchouli, wood

Paimon - Fantôme 

“This is a warm, regal scent conjuring an endless sea of sand with the hint of an oasis of coconut and dark vanilla carried on a warm desert wind. Golden frankincense, black amber, and myrrh stir under the endless dunes of hot sand, grounding the bright, golden notes that shine under the unrelenting sun.”

hot sands, frankincense, myrrh, sun-bleached parchment, vanilla, black amber, coconut husk, gold

Eldritch - Pineward Perfume 

“Lair of ancient eldritch abominations, a resinous and dark perfume for the bold and unafraid.”

leather, myrrh, patchouli, fir, oolong tea, opoponax, smoke, pine needles, oakmoss

Stel - Treading Water Perfume 

motor oil, metal, desert air, frankincense, oud

Persian Tea Room - Alkemia 

spiced black tea, dry desert sand, spices, musk, soft leather

Firebird - Fantôme

“This is a rich, golden scent that emulates the golden apples and warm flame of the Firebird.”

smoldering embers, burning cloves, orange, golden saffron, endless forest, soot on feathers, soft flame, apple 

Dwarf - Black Phoenix Alchemy Labs  

iron filings, chips of stone, hops, soot-covered leather

Tyrannosaurus Rex - Zoologist  

“A sultry heat wafts across the land, lapped up greedily by the abundant flora that thrives in its midst… The Cretaceous period comes of age against a backdrop scorched by wildfire and lightning strikes.”

bergamot, black pepper, fir, laurel leaf, neroli, nutmeg, champaca, geranium, jasmine, osmanthus, rose, ylang ylang, resins, cade, cedar, civet, frankincense, leather, patchouli, sandalwood, vanilla

Water: Water ghouls tend to have smooth, cold scents. Some are sweet, some are sour, some are salty, but all of them reflect different bodies of water.

Notes: ozone, vanilla, water, citrus, seaweed, salt, sand, ice, tropical fruit

Triton - Fantôme

murky sea water, ambergris, ancient forest mosses, crushed ivy, frankincense, resins, ozone, a hint of citrus

Voice of the Sea - Alkemia 

“An olfactory musing from the underside of a wooden dock.”

salty sea breezes, sun-bleached driftwood, crushed seashells, lemon peel, barnacles, sand, and sea-soaked timbers

Dragonfly - Zoologist 

“Giant lotus pads part to make way for buds that pierce the surface of the jade green pond. They raise their faces to the sun, their delicate fragrance floating around them. In the shadow of the flowers, tiny dragonfly nymphs also emerge from the shallows. They spread their fragile wings and shyly take flight, ready to explore a world beyond the water.”

grapefruit, basil, angelica seed, ginger, rice, aquatic florals, geranium, jasmin sambac, mimosa, orris absolute, rose, violet leaves, rainwater, moss, patchouli, tonka, vetiver, benzoin, cashmeran

Acadia - Alkemia

“An olfactory portrait of coastal Maine.”

atlantic ocean fog, balsam fir pine needles, seaweed, bay leaves, saltwater, charred driftwood

Gelatto - Pineward Perfume 

“Suntanned skin and sunny beaches.”

makrut lime, jasmine sambac, mandarin orange, gardenia, massoia bark, sandalwood, ambergris

Squid - Zoologist   

“The vast ocean swells and contracts, caught in the relentless tug of the moon. Beneath the surface, a school of squid emerges. Strange, elastic forms propel from the deep in a frantic search for sustenance. They are not alone. Their predators lunge, only to be foiled by blinding jets of murky ink.”

pink pepper, solar salicylate, incense, black ink accord, salty accord, opoponax, ambergris, benzoin, musk

Seahorse - Zoologist  

“Balmy sunlight trips across foamy turquoise waves, sending rippling haloes onto the coral below. On the lagoon floor, anemone and seaweed sway in unison, limbs pumping to the rhythm of the current. Hovering among the coral branches, a group of seahorses gazes shyly on.”

guatemala cardamom, fennel, ambrette absolute, clary sage, tuberose, neroli, algae absolute, vetiver, ambergris accord

Quintessence: Heavy, warm, creamy scents. Quintessence ghouls tend to smell comforting, and their scents reflect human creations much more often than other ghouls’.

Notes: amber, leather, chocolate, alcohol, linen, lavender, wood, milk, vanilla

Amber Witch - Alkemia

aged dark arabian amber, honey musk, creamy bourbon caramels, spiced rum

Moon Magic - Sorcellerie Apothecary 

“Smells like your favorite cozy witch.”

lavender sugar, tonka bean, chai spices, vanilla steamed milk, cashmeran, ambroxan, crystals charged by moonlight

Sailing to Byzantium - Alkemia

papyrus, leather, ink, cardamon, orris, tonka, wet tweed, precious incense woods

Novella - Alkemia

“A cozy afternoon curled up in a favorite chair…”

spiced lavender de provence, steaming earl grey tea, old paperback books 

The Old Gods Survive - PULP Fragrance 

cherry pipe tobacco, golden amber, aged leather, oakmoss, old cedar chests

Solovey - Fantôme 

black amber, crushed violets, black currants, dark espresso, labdanum, black agarwood, tobacco

(one of my favorites of all time. it smells like nighttime but magical, somehow. the amber, violets, and espresso are most noticeable and it's so good. if dark purple was a scent it would be this imo)

Fleurs Historiques et Cacao - Alkemia 

“A historical recipe from the 1700's court of Versailles created by a mistress to delight a king. A paradox of the decadent and the divine…”    

dark cacao, french lavender, piquant black cardamom pods, tea with lemon peel, grapefruit blossom, vanilla musk

thank you for reading, and i would love to hear your thoughts! (also, gentle reminder if you got this far that reblogs are very appreciated!)

[awoken-artist]

Did a redraw months ago during a stream where I spun the wheel to see what year I will land on to redraw one of my old art pieces. 2016 landed and so I redraw one of my FMA works [even though recently I checked I guess this was from 2014 but DA wont show me the image.. which im mad about.] Either way I wanted to redraw this piece since its been a LONG time.

I will still find it funny someone got so stupid mad at me, being a lil white knight trying to 'protect their senpai's' by angerly going at me for making Alchemy High when its been around much longer. [and I have old fanart to prove that from other older fma members and artists].

I am bringing this back in a way to make the story , however its gonna be much different. I would go for uniforms BUT I decided, lets just do regular like - highschool and collage shit where they can wear whatever the hell they want?

Even though the story is mostly going to be focusing for the collage story but have flashbacks with the highschool and other variety stuff since I do want to focus on the whole group being Adults in collage. they knew eachother for a long time now [mostly Ed, Al, Winry and Emmy and probably Thanos?] and they still have their hobbies and other stuff they enjoy. Edward still heavy on the heavy metal rock punk, same somewhat for Winry.

Emmy enjoys it too but dresses in pastel. So she somewhat a pastel punk maybe? Alphonse I feel he- would dress somewhat like a hipster maybe. I just imagine him wearing a vest often like their dad. Thanos very much into rock and punk. Emmet Im not sure what he'd be into as of yet.

I do wanna do more sketches of them thats for sure so more are coming on in. :P

Also for Thanos [top left] I decided to go with him being Half Ishvallen and Half Xingese like I have mentioned in the past which I feel be a interesting change for him. Still need to work on his toyhouse profile though.

------------------------

🌈✧{Please Do Not Steal, Trace, use my Art in AI and NFTs and Repost/Resubmit my Works. Thank You.}✧🌈

🌈✧{Credits}✧🌈

✧ Artwork + OC's Thanos [top left] , Emmet Rosenthal [top right] , and Emmy Rosenthal [bottom one next to edward in the redraw] owned by @awoken-artist

✧ FMA and characters Winry Rockbell, Edward Elric, and Alphonse Elric owned by Hiromu Arakawa

[cicada-sprites]

your name is IUDEXX GUNDYR and you want to be alternias first CRUSADESECRATOR with a passion for SCENE FASHION.

(it/its and sword neos used)

Iu lives in a large manor over an imposing cliff with sharps DRAGON LUSUS. Iudexx, is partially blinded due to a blast of MAJYKKS from its ROOMMATE-MOIRAIL WIZARD WYZARD. Sword wears those ghastly shades because of light sensitivity from the injury. Blade is nonverbal, and doesnt make an attempt to communicate outside of occasional trollian messages under the handle guardiansGreatsword [GG]. It loves knights, swords, anything related to the prior, and scene fashion. Sharp mostly likes textures when it comes to clothes (particularly favoring smooth/metallic textures and dangly jewelry) which leads to some interesting fashion choices, espec when it gets access to alchemy in game. Steels godtier is the KNIGHT OF VOID.

Sharp keeps to bladeself for the most part but is eager to protect its friends, like any HONORABLE crusadesecrator. Sword gets along well with its fellow troll players, but is slow to get adjusted to the human players. Steel eventually gets to know them though, and even lets the humans fill two of its quadrants.

THE COOL FITS...

CERULEAN SCENE + SECRETIVE SHADES: The basic gear for any wannabe scene king, and glasses perfect for any knight too cool for eye contact (not that it could see you through them, anyways)

CRU-SCENE-DESECRATOR: A personal twist on its underwhelming godtier pajamas, the atrocious pattern combos a guaranteed to scare off any creatures of the night.

KNIGHT OF VOID GABRS + PERFECTLY GENERIC SHADES: Some quaint cotton pajamas paired with some shades that are "nothing to write home about," good for a more casual day in the session. Unfortunately, Iudexx has ever cared for casual.

PROSPITIAN PROTECTOR: As prospitian royalter, Iudexx has taken it upon bladeself to protect the moon. In stylish golden garb no less!

APPARITIONS APPRENTICE: The vibrant colors look rather out of place on usually dark clothed troll, this outfit was alchemixed from his Kismesis' apparitionsArchive's outfit.

MAGICIANS BEST FRIEND: ......

THE BADASS BLADES...

STEEL GREATSWORD: Iudexx's pre-entry weapon, its about what you'd expect for an anime-style outrageously large sword.

DRAGON SLAYER CANE-BLADE: Unfortunately, this 4W3SOM3 blade cant be slipped away in into an inconspicuous guide cane. The epic dragon accent almost makes up for it.

ZOOLOGICALLY DUBIOUS VOID BLADE: A blade imbued with eldritch power beyond the comprehension of even a void player, it cuts through objects with a terrifying evil energy.

PERFECTLY GENERIC GREATSAW: The blade is otherwise bland if not for the perculiar serrations on the blade, it makes it incredibly inefficient to use due to it's ridiculous size.

ROCKET BLADE: A huge blade given an extra boost by built in rockets. Also serves an impromtu rocket board in an emergency.

MOONLIGHT GREATSWORD: "This sword, one of the rare dragon weapons, came from the tail of a pale white dragon who betrayed his own." It also shoots out magic beams. Cool!

GHOST BUSTER BLADE: Huh.... this isn't as cool as you thought it would be.

GREATSWORD OF ZILLYWAK: Pryed from the arms of the last chuckshonen upon his deathbed on willywonk mountain. Its forged from pure quinkleore. This blade is no joke.