#also man i hope he does look like hes pale xD

[skyauroka]

29th ATTACK FOR @apricot-the-apricat !!!!! (Apricot_Apricat)

"Oh what am I, supposed to do, without you?"

GFHBDAKKAKKK ZEPHAROLD ART,,, inspired by song :]

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤. 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 [𝐃𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐠]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: Dan Heng x fem!reader

Warnings: school AU, just fluff.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. Eve - 遊生夢死

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

I usually don't like to write smth like this, but I made an exception by writing this work once as a bday present for my dear friend. I still think I'm not very good at feeling this character, but I hope it's not too noticeable XD

You remember exactly when it started. You remember perfectly well when your life became so unstable and restless, but happy and saturated, as if filled with bright colors for the first time.

One look. Two words that planted a feeling in your chest that could be awakened by a man who barely decided to take the first step, which he will never regret.

✧ ✧ ✧

Thoughtlessly tracing the margins in your notebook with a pencil, you get bored, yawning quietly at the last desk in the middle row. The office is filled with the tired voice of the teacher and the quiet whisper of your classmates, who can't wait to go home. Raindrops patter softly on the windows, making you even more sleepy.

Today is your birthday. How ironic that it was on this day that the sky cried from the moment you stepped outside the school.

At least you'll be able to come home soon and get some sleep.

Your gaze lazily rose to the gray clouds. For some reason, no one around seemed to care about writing a synopsis or the raging elements outside the window. This day could have been much more intense if you had friends, right? Perhaps so. But you've always been comfortable being alone. Being alone also has its charms. You are always focused on your own thoughts, not filling your head with unnecessary meaningless chatter. Yes, from the outside, friendly communication really looked quite fun, but is it really necessary if now it seems to you that everything is in its place?

You sigh softly, about to return to your notes, when your gaze catches on another bored figure by the window. Exactly. There was always someone in the class who seemed like a kind of kindred spirit to you. For sure, Dan Heng thought about his life the same way you did. You've never seen him smiling cheerfully in the company of classmates. His gaze is just as extinguished, directed at the gloomy sky. Funny… You didn't pay much attention to him, but whenever this guy came into your field of vision, he looked like your reflection.

Although you can't even remember what his voice sounds like.

This does not mean that you never had the desire to talk to him, but you often found him reading another book or leaving school alone with headphones on. Perhaps these are just excuses for your self-doubt, but you sincerely believed that your company would be superfluous for him. Dan Heng always looks so cold, detached, but he doesn't seem to be bothered by the lack of any connection with society.

Just like you.

Hmm… if you think about it, he could have been quite popular with girls if he had been more sociable. His hair always looks so well groomed. Slightly curly short black strands gently shimmer even in the dim sunlight, barely breaking through dense clouds, contrasting against the background of bright turquoise eyes. Aristocratically pale skin and pleasant facial features. Yes, Dan Heng can definitely be called handsome. Maybe he's even your type.

Although, how do you know what your taste in guys is, because you've never fallen in love.

But when those expressive sea-green eyes meet yours, for some reason my heart feels so restless in my chest. Is it out of fear that you seem to have been staring at Dan Heng for a while so obviously that you even managed to get his attention? Yes, but… it was like there was something else.

You look away, burying your face even more in the palm of your hand propping up your head, turning back to your notebook. It was probably the first time you made eye contact with him. What is this feeling? Somehow… It's restless.

You flinch when you finally hear the loud sound of a life-saving bell, knocking you out of your embarrassing thoughts. It must have been so long since you talked to anyone but your parents that even such a small thing could throw you into confusion.

You hurriedly gather your things from the table, scooping them into a bag before heading for the exit, following the crowd that has already managed to run out into the corridor, when a strange hand of the man behind lands on your desk, enclosing you between his body and a chair.

«Wh-what?..»

You turn around uncertainly, facing the chest of a guy with an indifferent expression on his face. The fright on your face is gradually replaced by complete puzzlement.

— D-Dan Heng? Something happened? — has your voice always sounded so quiet or just this time?

— Did you bring an umbrella today?

— Huh? An umbrella? — your eyes widen with even more shock when two things put you in a stupor at once. This is a Tribute to Heng. He's talking to you right now. And asks… About the umbrella?! You're hardly sure you've ever heard his voice, but what he said now seems absolutely absurd.

— It's raining outside. I saw you looking out the window and thought you might not have brought an umbrella.

— Oh, that's right… Um… — you're nervously going over all the memories in your head up to the moment you left the house. And really…

Your thoughtful look, replaced by confusion, said more to Dan Heng than your tongue was able to utter now.

— We live not far from each other. I spend.

✧ ✧ ✧

«What's going on?!»

You awkwardly huddle with a silent classmate under an umbrella as you walk steadily in complete silence to the sound of raindrops hitting the asphalt. There are so many questions in your head that you would like to ask, but for some reason the words get stuck deep in your throat. How the hell does he know where you live? Why did I come up to you with such a strange offer in the first place? Why today?

There must have been some truth in the rumors that Dan Heng was a strange guy who didn't walk around the classroom quietly enough.

You give the guy short glances, having time to notice how calm he looks in such a situation. The same as always. You also notice how his shoulder gets wet from the incessant rain while he holds an umbrella over your figure, which is moving further away from him.

How embarrassing is this… You are gradually approaching Dan Heng, feeling the heat tingle your cheeks even under the cool breeze. It's just to avoid feeling guilty. No more than that.

The longer the silence hung over you, the more clearly your heart was throbbing somewhere in your ears, making you even more nervous. Are you so uncomfortable just because it's practically a stranger to you, or is it because it's Dan Heng?

Your eyes light up when the fence of your house is visible on the horizon. You can finally get through this stress alone.

— Um… we're here.

You both stop, and a short sigh leaves Dan Heng's chest, giving you an unreadable look from top to bottom. You've never thought about how much taller he is than you, but now it seemed like you were nothing more than a scared kitten cowering at his feet.

— Yes. Then… Till tomorrow.

Dan Heng's lips pursed up, and his gaze was blunted somewhere in the asphalt under his feet, which made you relax a little. Ah… he's probably embarrassed too, because you really look alike. It is unlikely that Dan Heng is used to communicating with anyone. He gives the impression of a man who voluntarily chose solitude, but for some reason he exudes sadness, the nature of which you cannot understand. You wanted to ask why he decided to accompany you, why today… But you just nod, grabbing the strap of your bag, hurriedly running to the door.

— Y/N!

For some reason, you were almost sure that this was not the end. Exactly… It wasn't sadness.

You turn around, meeting Dan Heng's furrowed brows, flushed cheeks and sparkling turquoise eyes as he tightens his grip on the umbrella in his hand, looking at you, seeming to carefully consider what he wants to say.

— Happy birthday…

— Huh? — it seemed to you that your heart turned over in your chest, pausing for those few moments that felt like an eternity while you stared into Dan Heng's deep eyes. In these quiet waves, which shimmer with soft ripples in his eyes, you can read tenderness, awe, which creep through your body with a tremor that you have never felt before. Your stomach is cramping with an unpleasant, but such a warm feeling that makes you even more nervous. It's all like a fever attack that will kill you if you don't hide behind your door right now.

You open your lips, whispering your answer, which probably only the rain hitting the roof of your house has heard.

— Thank you…

But Dan Heng heard you. That's probably why he hurried to turn around and head home as soon as possible, in order to hide the way the corners of his lips lifted in a soft smile under a wet umbrella.

[sevi007]

Tales of the abyss playthrough, part 5

Well, damn it. We are busted . Not that our disguises were any good but that’s a wooping 30 minutes of gameplay before they caught us

Interestingly enough, Jade does not seem particularly hostile towards us. It seems more like genuine intrigue to me

Yes thank you Luke. I'm honestly getting dizzy with all the exposition over here. There are so many factions within the same organisation and I still have not yet fully grasped all those score and fonon things.

So from what I gathered, the score is like a written history of everything that was, and will be. Talking to some NPCs, it also seems to server as a kind of horoscope (that's why I say it tells the future). So it's like a religion's bible in a way that they follow it's teaching, but it's also more, because it can make predicitons (or already made them).

There are two kingdoms we know of yet - Malkuth and Luke's home which's name I always forget - and they are on the brink of a war. Over what, I have not really understood yet. But despite the fact that Jade and Anise are part of Malkuth's military, they do not want any war and are on the way to help Ion (who is a neutral party not undre any kingdoms' rule) to the king for a peace treaty. Did I get most of it right? Sure hope so!

Jade, I do realize you're making fun of Luke. Bastard man XD (I'm kidding, it's funny)

Oh? See what I mean about fast-paced?! XD I was still mulling all this new info over, gimme a breather please

Yea does not look like I'm getting a breather.

Oh? Can we summon zombies now?

Is anybody on the Team already a zombie? Jade is pale like one... okay I will stop XD

Ah I see. That will explain how they nerf Jade so he can be part of the party.

Checking his stats... yeah he is on our level now. Dammit. I wanted to use him for easy farming for a bit longer. XD Curse you for seeing through my genius plan, game!

Well now, that’s interesting. I cannot recall a JRPG which actually adressed the fact that we kill the (human) enemies we face. (Disregarding Vesperia and Yuri‘s kills here, because those were outside of the battles that we as players control). I admit that I in front of the screen did not consider this either. In the back of my mind, I assumed we knock them out, rather than outright killing them

Not only is this interesting for me as the player, but also for Luke‘s character development. Remember, again, that his entire (remembered) life was a sheltered one. He barely learned how to fight- Tear points out flaws like not considering the environment, not knowing how to use arts - much less how to deal with a real battle field, or killing. Now he gets thrown into a situation where it‘s kill or be killed. How he will deal with this and what he will do from here on out might be an important milestone for him.

.....

Ah. Literally like two minutes later:

Oookay I had assumed Luke will have a bit more time to mull the whole killing thing over but alright, fast paced once more XD Poor boy.

Huh. I think I saw this guy in the opening? I‘m going by ear here, but I THINK he has the same voice actor as Luke? No don‘t tell me! I don’t want to look it up either. It’s just interesting. Jotting this down as important - especially since they are careful not to show us this man‘s face. Maybe a long-list twin? Although there‘s a lot of things that speak against that theory.

So I'm cutting this short here, this post is already long enough. I'm very intrigued so far!

@magicmetslogic

[blackjackkent]

Rakha's head continues to ache terribly simply at the presence of Isobel and Aylin in camp, and she stands deliberately some distance away from them, in the hope that it helps keep the murder urges down. (I think she also maybe has Wyll hang out nearby during this whole conversation - she's told him everything about Sceleritas and the Urge and everything, so he knows about the beast's specific interest in Isobel.)

This conversation isn't really about her though (thankfully) - Shadowheart is already talking to the aasimar when Rakha arrives.

"What do you know about me?" she demands. "You spoke of my past, being chased by wolves... I told no one about that." A pause. Her eyes flick minutely in Rakha's direction. "Almost no one," she amends. "But I certainly didn't share that with *you*."

She casts the word you at Aylin like a slap, an aimless lashing-out. Aylin doesn't flinch from it, but looks at Shadowheart steadily with her moon-pale gaze.

"There is nothing I can tell you that you do not already know yourself," she says calmly. "They trained you well, trained you hard. Chiseled away any part of you that did not fit their plan. They made you forget."

(A/N: For some reason all the shots of Shadowheart in this scene make her face look really long and thin and I don't know why. XD )

Shadowheart stiffens angrily. "I *chose* to do that," she snaps. "For the mission. To protect Shar's--"

"--secrets. Yes, yes." Aylin shakes her head. "That is an old song, girl," she says. "Your goddess cares more for her precious secrets than she does her devotees.

Shadowheart's jaw works. "Get to the point," she mutters.

Dame Aylin tilts her head thoughtfully for a moment, then goes on. "When you freed me, you severed a bond between me and that dog, Thorm. A bond of pain - his, inflicted on me. When I laid eyes on you, I sensed a similar bond. You, tethered to two others, someplace distant."

She leans forward, her eyes fixed intently on Shadowheart's. "Let me help you remember," she says. Her voice is firm, but not harsh. Cool but kind.

Shadowheart shivers visibly. Her eyes flicker half-closed.

Narrator: You feel Shadowheart's mind tug at the edges of your own. You know this sensation. She wants you to see whatever is about to be revealed.

It takes a moment for Rakha to register the gentle nudge in her mind; it has to break through layers of pain and the struggling growl of the beast aching to be set free. But she does feel it - and it is natural enough to let the connection through. It is not, after all, the first time they have made use of the tadpole to share memories - what little memories they both have.

Open your mind to that sensation.

Narrator: Your mind joins with Shadowheart's. Something pulls at you both, bringing you elsewhere.

It's the same memory again, the one Shadowheart shared with her so many weeks ago. The lost girl, the dark-robed figures. The wolf.

Only it isn't a wolf.

The memory shifts, twists, reveals a fallen dark-haired man, writhing with fear beneath the tips of Sharran spears. He reaches out, his face a mask of anguish, as the girl is pulled away into the shadows of the forest.

The images fade.

Narrator: Something sparks in your memory. Teachings about Selunite rites of passage, about how they would abandon their children in the wilds and force them to find their way home. It seems that one child never came back. She was taken.

The facts churn through Rakha's head. Shadowheart was a Selunite child. The man is her father, certainly, to judge by the resemblance. Her memories of him have been wiped away - by force.

Shadowheart is struggling more to process the implications. "What-- who was that man?" she asks unsteadily.

"You already know," Aylin answers. "Did you not see yourself in him? Do you not recognize your own blood?"

Shadowheart swallows. "My father?" she whispers. "That was him?"

"That *is* him," Aylin corrects her. "He lives still. And your mother, too."

Shadowheart goes deathly pale, her eyes widening. "No. It can't be..." she says haltingly. "I'm-- an orphan..."

"And who told you that? Your adoptive family?" Aylin asks. Her voice is still low, and yet it rings like a rallying cry, like a bell. "You are not to blame. You were young, impressionable. They took you because they wanted to break and remake you. But you are a child no longer. You are a woman! One who knows what must be done."

A long, long silence. Then Shadowheart looks towards Rakha, a mute appeal in her eyes.

"My parents," she says. "I... need to save them."

Rakha draws a slow breath, lets it out heavily, trying to keep her mind under control. Her head still aches terribly and she is acutely aware of Isobel sitting only a few feet away, playing with Squire. Focus.

They are already going to save Wyll's father. They will save Shadowheart's as well, then. Natural enough. Another addition to the pile of obligation sitting on Rakha's chest like a lead weight.

Do I have a father? she wonders abruptly. A mother? I must... She had a sister, after all, it seems. Who bore them? What would she do, if a memory was returned to her of her father's face?

"I'll help," she mutters, almost too low to hear.

Shadowheart gives her another quick sideways glance. A look of gratitude, quickly masked again behind a troubled frown.

Aylin nods crisply. "Your parents are with your abductors," she says. "You will need to return to their lair. But be warned-- you may have once thought of them as comrades, mentors, friends, even lovers. They will all be enemies now."

She stretches out one hand towards Shadowheart. "You have been forewarned for what is to come, but not yet forearmed."

Rakha watches with some fascination as a burst of magic shivers around the aasimar's body, the Weave rippling with it. When it settles, a long spear rests in her palm. The same spear Shadowheart hurled from the platform in the Shadowfell - the Spear of Night.

Her eyes narrow in muted surprise, but she says nothing.

Observe silently.

"The Spear..." Shadowheart murmurs, disbelieving. "How do you hae it? I threw it into the Shadowfell!"

"Shar is quick to discard whatever she has no use for," Aylin says gravely. "I think you know that well enough. But I felt it call to me as I took flight. Whatever Shar calls her own, Selune has equal claim to. They are one and the same. Their power is matched and mirrored."

She presses the shaft of the spear into Shadowheart's hand. "Take it," she says. "You will find it useful. What you do with it... that will be up to you. Same as before."

Shadowheart slowly turns the spear in her hands, feeling its weight. Rakha can see the slow shimmer of magic through the wood, along the metal of the point - divine magic untouched now by Shar's darkness. Selunite moonlight.

"I'll need every advantage, it seems," Shadowheart mutters. "Thank you."

Aylin gives a single sharp shake of her head. "A debt repaid. You returned my life unto me. Now go and claim your own."

If Shadowheart plans to answer, she is cut off by a sudden surge of energy into the back of her hand, the wound that still lingers there. "Ngh..." she groans. "It hurts..."

Aylin frowns - and for a moment her placidity slips, and Rakha sees a flare of the same rage that lit her eyes when her boot crashed through Ketheric's skull. "Shar torments you still," the aasimar murmurs. "What a spiteful creature she is. This will not stop until you take action." Her eyes flick briefly to Rakha, then back to Shadowheart. "See that your parents' sacrifices are not in vain. Allow the Moonmaiden to guide you at last."

[tobiasdrake]

Well, chief. I guess this is it. Thanks for everything, and I'll see you aro-- Oh, we aren't finished yet.

Goddammit.

Hypothetically speaking, if you were going to be alone with a man who might try to kill you, what size of knife would you carry on your person and where would you stash it? Asking for a friend.

Are you, though? You know in a Saturday Morning Cartoon when the adult guardian goes, "The plot is happening but YOU will go to your room and behave yourself. You will NOT slip out and go do the thing."

But this is like episode 87 and we all know they're going to slip out and go do the thing anyway so, really, saying this is just a formality at this point?

That's your level of authority, Yakou. Thank you so much for saving my life from my terrible mistakes last chapter; Anyways, back to doing the things that got me in trouble in the first place!

I'll write him a note and leave it in Halara's hotel room, along with an IOU formally requesting that they deliver it to Yakou upon confirmation of my death.

I obviously won't be able to pay the IOU but at this point I'm pretty sure Halara only cares about the optics of charging money.

Kurumi, I took you to meet my dangerous, ambiguous wildcard contact. There's a 50/50 chance he's going to tie you to a chair and dangle you over a vat of acid before all is said and done. We are well past the point where something as innocuous as worry is inappropriate.

OH THANK GOD. Of Death. Literally. Thank you for finally ending this awkward quasi-farewell, Shinigami.

We're running out of good ideas to escape from this sub. This is one step above pointing behind Yakou and shouting, "LOOK, A FALSE LEAD!" then bolting when he turns around.

Because then it will spoil. The best kinds of evidence have an expiration date!

Yuma finally proving that abandoning all pretense and bailing at the speed of feet is, and always has been, a viable option for dodging Yakou's paper-thin attempts at professional responsibility.

Sorry, man, but you-

HAHAHAHA OKAY, Yuma made me laugh but I was unprepared for Kurumi to then also bolt out the door. XD Run, guys! Yakou looks like he maxes out at a shamble! A brisk jogging pace should do!

To be fair, she does not work here. It'd be uncomfortable for her to stick around someone else's workspace without her one and only connection to this place.

Sorry, Yakou. As hard as you're going to kiss her ass, Kurumi is not interested in becoming your intern. She's here for Yuma. And she is as much of a troublemaker.

HOLY SHIT YOU GODDAMN VAMPIRE

I legit did not turn the camera to check the fireplace. He may have been here for this entire scene thus far.

I KNOW RIGHT!? We need to put a bell on him. Wait, no, bell only chimes when you move. ...one of those perpetual motion clicky ball sets that managers have on their desk to make them look important. He can wear it around his neck.

You heard as much as Yakou, man. Yuma was super cryptic and then fled.

*sigh* Okay, what's Desuhiko pulling this time, Vivia? Is the pale blue blink supposed to be Fubuki? But then the storm would be... him getting the shit kicked out of him....

Ugh, I don't have time for his shenanigans, I have a trap to go die in.

For a man who was all gung-ho about box cutting my throat out, you sure don't seem to be in any rush to do it. I think Vivia used up all of his energy trying to stand up dramatically.

How are you going to feel if I die before you have a chance to kill me, Vivia? Can you live with that regret? Or... I guess, since you want to die someday, maybe not being able to live with that regret would be a good thing.

I guess. Keep doing what you're doing and hope for the worst, my guy. Power of positive thinking!

[marinerainbow]

Tagging: @slashingdisneypasta

Nobody asked, I just felt like posting this.

WFRR Characters as humans

Please note, I am not great at physical descriptions. This would be so much easier if I could draw xD I'm trying to be as descriptive as I can without dragging on too long. I hope I'm successful.

Roger Rogers (Roger Rabbit)

Yes, he has and will joke about his last name. He stands at about 5'1, and was born 1921 (26 years old in the events of the film), and is a lanky man with the flexibility of a wacky inflatable tube man. Roger still sticks to more loose, casual clothes similar to his toon counterpart. His nose is round and a little red, looking almost like a button ^^ though he is white (not overly pale. Might even have a slight tan. I'm not too sure). And yes, he still has his buck tooth, along with a head of fluffy orange hair. And I'm giving him freckles.

Jessica Rogers (Jessica Rabbit)

Honestly, Jessica looks pretty much the same as her toon self. With more realistic proportions, of course. She is 6'1 and was born in 1917 (30 years old). And above all, she still adores her short king, and feels loved by him everyday ^^

(I feel bad for not giving Jessica so much of a description, but she's the only adult humanoid looking toon, and I can't imagine her looking any other way as a human)

Herman 'Babyface' Douglas (Baby Herman)

A short, pudgy man. His exact height is 4'11, and was born 1897 (50 years old). Though he'll claim he's younger than he is. His skin care routine does help him look younger though, hence his nickname (don't expect him to tell you his secrets though), and how he can get roles usually reserved for younger actors. His hair is a bright strawberry blonde, but thinning, so he tries to style it in ways that make it look fuller. His eyes are still a bright blue. Herman prefers dressing in more expensive suits and coats (bro literally had a thick fur coat in one short), to show off his wealth and trying to make himself look better than everyone else.

Benjamin 'Benny' Brown (Benny the Cab)

(His initials are BBB like the now bankrupt store-)

I actually imagine Benny as an African American. He is 5'10 and was born in 1891 (56 years old. He said he was a cab for 37 years in the film, so that would mean he would've started, at most, when he was 19 in the human AU). He has short, kind of choppy black hair and dark brown eyes. He also has a scruffy goatee. Benny possesses a more muscular build, though it's mostly hidden by his jacket, so he just looks like a generally big guy (yes, he does perform his own maintenance on his car).

Anderson 'Andy' Winston (Smartass Weasel)

(If this guy was in the modern era, he'd get so sick of all the Toy Story jokes)

Standing at exactly 5'0, this New Yorker was born in 1912 (35 in the events of the film). He has a skinny frame, though broad shoulders, and is fairly strong for his size (he literally punched Eddie so hard he twisted around and doubled over the bar counter. Smarty has to have some strength, right??). He has olive skin, chestnut brown eyes, and actually has a bit of red in his hair. It's not too noticeable unless you're really looking, so he's not a red head like Jessica is. Also has a tooth gap! He cant grow facial hair though, even though he wants to (he wants a nice mustache. But can't grow one)

Miguel Rodriguez (Greasy Weasel)

His height is 5'9, and he was born 1909 (38 years old). He's got skinny arms and hands, which only makes his wandering hands feel just a bit more creepy on your skin (look at his hand/arm when he rolls his sleeve up! Not to mention how his sleeves hang off of him. Somebody put meat on those arms), though he's got a more curvy body with a bit of a belly too. I also imagine he's got a darker skin tone, and can grow scruffy facial hair if he forgets to shave. And he applies hair oil partially because his black hair is actually really curly (the tips curl up despite the hair oil? That's got to be some serious curl strength there). His eyes are a really dark brown, almost black, but in the light you can see the color.

Francis Green (Wheezy Weasel)

Yes, his last name is meant to be ironic. His height is 6'2, and he was born right at 1900 (47 years old). Kind of skinny, but you can see the sinewy muscle as well, hinting to his own strength. He looks pretty sickly, and has blemishes all over his body (he was a picker before becoming a smoker). His eyes are a slate blue, and he has ash blonde hair. Unlike Greasy, he rarely shaves, so he's got a rough, scratchy beard too, and yellow teeth from his smoking habit. I also see him having a more crooked nose shape.

(Honestly just imagine Bill Moseley and you'd get what I imagine human Wheezy would look like).

Charlie Renfield (Psycho Weasel)

(his last name may or may not be a reference to a certain Dracula character)

Psycho here is 5'3, and was born 1919 (28 years old). He has a skinny, angular build. No curves to be seen. Similar to Wheezy, he's got a sickly pale skin tone, and has scars and blemishes along his body from being careless and actively picking and scratching at himself. His most prominent scars are two on the corners of his lips from the times he's carried his razor in his mouth (he actually did do that in the movie. He's so lucky he's a toon). He's got a big head of fluffy, dark brown hair. Not curly necessarily, just... Poof. Also, he has split heterochromia; his right eye is blue, and his left eye is yellow (I know partial heterochromia would be more accurate to his swirly eyes, but I like the complete split more).

Thomas 'Tommy' Winston (Stupid Weasel)

This big lug is 6'4, and was born 1922 (25 years old). He is pretty chubby and has a round face, though don't let the plushness deceive you; that isn't just fat that makes him huge. He's got pretty big hands, especially (even as a weasel, he had huge hands! You guys saw his hand when he flipped the switch to the DIP machine too, right?). He also has olive skin, though it's more tanned as well, and he has freckles ^^ also has a deeper red hair color than Andy does, and it is more wavy than his too. I'm debating on whether or not he'd have brown or green eyes (everyone else has brown, blue, or yellow eyes. Green would complete the set). His buck tooth is still here, though smaller because human teeth.

Bonus! Sophie O'Brian (Poppy O'Hare)

(Yes, my OC. Technically I already made a post for Poppy, but I didn't really like how I wrote it. So this is take two. Hopefully I feel better with this one 😅)

Pops is the shortest of all, standing at 4'10. And was born 1920 (27 years old). She has pale, porcelain skin- though has developed some worry lines along her eyes- and big, bright brown eyes. I'm still having trouble deciding whether or not she has glasses, even for her toon self. But for her human self, I'm gonna say she only needs glasses when reading; any other time, you won't see her with a pair. She has a thinner, but still feminine build that she prefers to keep hidden under her clothes. Her hair is wavy and black, and reaches just under her chin.

(Hm... Honestly, when thinking of actors for human Poppy to look like, I keep thinking of Anya Taylor Joy. I'm not too sure about it though).

I hope you guys liked reading this ^^

[neil-neil-orange-peel]

Ok, in regards to your WIPs post, I need to know more about "Bad Guys Have All the Fun" xD

I would have asked for the Hammersmith one, but I have gotten emails about you posting chapters for it on ao3, so I know about that one ;)

Haha hello! You've touched upon another of my endless crossovers. 😂

This isn't really something I'm actively writing. I came up with the idea with a mutual a while ago, and it just rumbles away in the background as potential. The basic idea is Edmund Blackadder and Alan B'Stard meet, and we decided Alan would have to meet the most cutting Blackadder - the third one. So we've got a Regency era Alan B'Stard, younger son of the Earl of Haltemprice, who's heard on the underground grapevine that the Prince Regent's butler is a clever and ruthless man. He comes down from Yorkshire with an offer for him: he wants his older brother, Richard "Flasheart" B'Stard, bumping off. Blackadder detests Flasheart, and will do just about anything for a bit of cash, so he's in.

It would end up fairly dark, though hopefully still funny; Blackadder and B'Stard are both highly immoral people, and they're plotting a murder. Baldrick is the one spec of morality in this - because I'd also want to explore the relationship between Blackadder and Baldrick and see if even Blackadder has a limit, which perhaps B'Stard does not.

Here's an intro I wrote yonks ago:

“Something wrong, Mr B?” came the casual inquiry of Baldrick about ten minutes before the palace’s guest arrived.

Edmund Blackadder’s right eyebrow quirked upwards in the vaguest of vague surprise – a dark, imposing arch against the pale sallowness of his face. Although it wasn’t unheard of for Baldrick to ask after his mood, such questions usually had to be prompted by some sort of physical disturbance, like Blackadder throttling him above the prince’s unprepared supper. Baldrick wasn’t, Blackadder had presumed before this moment, emotionally intelligent enough to pick up on cold fury simply by the way a person sipped their tea. He would have to bear this revelation in mind.

“Wrong?” Blackadder asked. He lowered the cup and saucer he’d been subtly victimising for the past minute and a half to the kitchen table, taking a moment to look up at Baldrick properly, face quite emotionless. “I fear that may be something of an understatement, Baldrick.”

“Oh…” was the rather pointless reply offered, as Baldrick continued to tinker with tonight’s food. Blackadder felt his upper lip beginning to curl in mild contempt.

“Oh, indeed,” he said, reaching back for his teacup in the hopes of removing the sudden bitter taste in his mouth with its contents.

Baldrick spoke up again. “So, something’s very wrong then?”

Blackadder let his tea sit where it was, opting to entwine his fingers in front of himself instead. A familiar sense of dread at the likelihood that he was going to have to explain – and then explain again in much plainer, simpler terms – the matter vexing him settled heavily in his stomach.

“Yes, Baldrick. Yes, there is,” he finally said. “Not only do I remain a humble butler, bound as ill fortune would have it to a master about as able to defend himself as an embryo that has yet to be conceived, but today this very master of ours is being visited by the second son of the Earl of Haltemprice.”

[meilas]

Socks Reviews POTO Stockholm 2016 Act 1

Old!Raoul looks dead. He's barely looking up at the auction items. The guy holding the monkey music box is staring directly at the camera and he looks scared. Swedish occasionally sounds close enough to German/English that I am getting confused as to what language I'm watching this in. jfc everything was so quiet and then the music is so loud This is a really nice shot of the chandelier rising. A couple light flashes synchronised with the drums. Honestly this looks so much cooler than when I saw the show on Broadway. Clearly I need to invest in a pair of opera glasses if I'm going to go to see any more shows that come my way because I always end up sitting in the way back.

This Piangi is a tiny king The way the slavemaster snapped the whip right behind the one manager and made him jump XD This Piangi forgot his sword on the ground and had to wave madly for someone to hand it to him. The camera work for this is so steady. Way to go, filmer. Piangi looks so into Carlotta when she's singing Think of Me. King behaviour. The one manager stops the other when he starts clapping early. The fallen backdrop has only been raised partway and there's three guys who keep looking under it and just interacting with each other behind it. Excellent. Raoul is blonde and looks so babey Meg sounds like a teenager. Christine sounds, well, older but not old. And I love how their voices sound together. One is a bell, one is a chime. The phantom is angry here, I actually jumped Oh and we're back to the nasally tone at "I am your angel of music" damn it Joback, you gave me hope and immediately let me down. He does sound better on the bridge. Let's see how is MOTN goes. How tall is Joback? he's barely taller than Christine oh that was an energetic cape removal, and a fairly decent self-caress He certainly is touching himself a lot during MOTN. Like his chest and stomach. And hips. Not. elsewhere. Okay that was a great high note. Why can't he sound like that all the time? Decent sprawl. Glad we could see it. But it looked like Christine had second thoughts about kissing him, rather than noticing anything that might have stuck out about him 😏 Another hip stroke jeez my dude Christine flinching when he starts crawling toward her is great. It's not his face at this point, it's how Weird he's being. OH OH He reaches toward her with his right hand, and exposes his face for several seconds and she just stares at him before slowly looking away. And she looks directly at him again when she returns his mask. This Christine is fantastic. Raoul is so much taller than everyone. lol Meg almost tripped running up to announce the Phantom of the Opera, and that looked like a struggle for her to run offstage No screaming of "the BALLET" here but he did run into a couple of the dancers. Ooooh we got to see an extra cape twirl from the shadow phantom in his last appearance. Usually he just fills up the entire backdrop but this time he swished the cape and then ran off to the left. Witness it here:

Christine's rooftop cape is either white or a very pale shade of blue. Her countess dress is also very pale, and I love it. so much better than the radioactive cupcake tint she wears in other productions. Chrstine sounds great. It's an AIAOY so I guess R/C fans will be happy. Okay that was a very gentle kiss. Very nice. They sound great together! Sad man time! That is a very small angel statue. This guy barely does the minimum. Sadder! More emotion! At least he shouts. Safety harness spotted.

[mobolanz]

Hi! Have a good day!

So, here are 3 questions for Evelyn/Reiner

7. Who makes the other laugh more?

9. How did they know they were right for each other?

12. Who's more protective?

Ah hi Rina! Hope the same for you, thanks for the ask <3 💖

(also omg he's so cute xD)

7. Who makes the other laugh more?

Gotta say it's an equal degree, both of them manage to be very much charmed by the other (for him it's her cute curiousity and cluelessnezs on things, and for her This goes to imply dad jokes level of remarks actually captivate her alfjwodka )

9. How did they know they were right for each other?:

Mannnnn so like, for Reiner it's almost a love at first (n)sight. Not to spoil my fic's chapter 1 concluding line I'm such a genius that's so poetic noooo I'm getting cocky but in a brainstorming I had with muvva she thought about it and I think this could summarize it as "something something playing into the notion of him leaving Paradis behind and becoming Reiner Braun™ again and shedding his cadet persona and running into this New Person making him Feel Things ohhhhhhh". Initially I figure he'd deny it in his mind over and over tho but ah well, :")

Granted, same thing can be said for Evy in the exact same situation to a certain extent, but a realization comes later than expected. I'm thinking that having them introduced to each other while he's in a vulnerable low and weak spot inherently enhances her value of his display of resilience and strength despite being so worn put. To quote her thoughts "suppose my judgement is biased and close minded, but it's admirably more human than most I know of..."

12. Who's more protective?:

Well for the obvious sense it's Reiner. To the very core of why their relationship isn't exactly "official" through most of it, since one could tell what would she be treated like should a word about them come out. But in another more open about it area ,,, Definitely the type that should she be put in an umcofortable/triggering/dangerous/ upsetting etc. situation- paled, frozen in her place and speechless; would end up just putting one hand on her shoulder from behind, walk over as if to say stay there and talk to the other party in a low and stern tone "Made your point alright .NOW, WHAT would approaching her like this help you with." Most likely while looking down at them too. Scary dog privilege

(man that got me melting like my sister does when i send her a Levi fanart😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫🫠🫠🫠🫠)

But in a way it's not exactly one sided 🤭 because consider-

Someone idk fill the blank: *badmouths reiny*

Miss know your place and learn to shut up everything anyone feels has a reason: OH YOU... YOU DON'T SAY THAT. YOU DON'T GET TO CALL HIM THAT. >:c 💢

No really Society if I allowed her to at least slap people>>>> 😔

Questions for self ship/OC x canon couples

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

What if... Part2

(Amazed and honoured at the reception of this one! So very happy y’all enjoyed this little AU that I was NOT going to write xD And thank you for the reblogs and comments, you wonderful people you! <3

 For the record, I still blame you @phrenic-a and @mountevey And I see you encouraging them @novembermurray ! )

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if...

Part 1

Part 2

She’s lost her mind. Dulsissa has thought this very thought many times during these last three months, but stars above; she really must have lost her mind now.

The Mandalorian, Davarax, is a complete stranger. She doesn’t know anything about him, only some fragments about his children that she has a feeling are real but might as well not be. And here she is holding her son’s hand and following this man to his ship, fully prepared to board it with him and go some place she has no idea where is to stay with a people she has no clue who are.

“This is your ship?” Corin asks with slight disbelief when they come to a halt in front of it.

Like Davarax’ armor, the ship has seen better days.

Embarrassed by her son’s words, Dulsissia gives Corin’s hand a warning squeeze and sends him a stern look that makes him shrink a little and shuffle his feet.

-Think it, don’t speak it, she’s told him countless times. His honesty will cost him one day.

Davarax snorts an amused laugh, saunters forward to reach out and place an affectionate hand to the ship’s hull. He pets it a couple of times like it’s a living creature. “She might not be the fanciest, but..” The helmet turns to look back at Corin. “I can promise you, Corin, you won’t find a better ship in the Galaxy. The Razor Crest is tough, fast and loyal. Treat her right and she’ll look after you.”

The disdain in Corin’s eyes is replaced with awe. “Really?” He whispers.

“Really.” Davarax confirms, giving the ship a final pat before lowering his arm to press a button on his vambrace. There is a click and a hum and the ship opens a side door, lowering a ramp for them to enter. “Let’s go.”

Dulsissia smiles a little as she follows Davarax inside and how Corin now is pulling eagerly at her hand to make her hurry up. A magical ship is irresistible to a little boy, while she tries hard to ignore the scorch marks she sees on the hull and the ominous weapons attached to it.

Inside, the ship is a lot roomier than she expected it to be. The cargo area makes for a great playground for Corin. The sleeping quarters are narrow, but she doesn’t require much space and Corin even less so. The cockpit is fascinating, she’s never been in one before.

And neither has Corin.

“Baby, no.” Dulsissia reaches out to pull Corin away when he walks right up to the control panel after Davarax has found his place in the pilot seat and watches with utmost amazement as he starts flipping switches and pushing buttons to bring the ship to life. “Come here. Don’t bother Davarax.”

“It’s okay.” Davarax reassures her. He glances over at the boy. “You want to help, young sir?”

Corin nods, too overwhelmed to talk.

“Flip that one.” Davarax points at a tiny switch and Corin instantly reaches out and flips it. “Good job. And now press that button.” He lifts the boy up so he can reach the button in the ceiling.

Dulsissia bites her lower lip to keep from getting too emotional as she watches her son eagerly obey instructions and soaking up every bit of encouragement and praise from the Mandalorian, starved for both after all the years his father gave him none. It hurts to watch how such simple kindness from a man stuns Corin but it is also so good to see her son this happy. Maybe she didn’t lose her mind when she decided to go with Darvarax, maybe it was the one good choice she’s made since deciding to leave Macero? She hopes.

“Okay, ad’ika.” Davarax says. “The Razor Crest is awake. Time for you to get in your seat.” He nudges Corin, who reluctantly wanders over to the one seat left after his mother claimed the one behind Davarax. He climbs, with a little difficulty, up on it, and settles. A tiny boy in a big seat.

Dulsissia moves over to buckle him in and frowns. He’s too small. It won’t keep him safe at all.

Without looking over at them, Davarax makes some final adjustments on his panel. “Next to the seat. On the left. There’s this box he can sit on. I use that when I bring Din or Barthor along.”

Dulsissia blinks. It’s not something she’d picture a mercenary to have on his ship. But a peek down the side does indeed reveal a box and once Corin is sitting on that, he gets a better view, to his delight, and the belts actually fit him instead of choking him, to her relief.

The ship takes off and sets course for the darkness above. Dulsissia is not sorry to leave this place.

Now all she has to worry about is what Nevarro is like and how the Mandalorians will react to Davarax bringing home a stray and her offspring. She wonders if the other Mandalorians are like Davarax, if she will get to meet his children and most important of all; will Corin like it there?

-

The journey to Nevarro will take two standard days. It’s strange how two days on a small ship with her husband or her friends would have driven her insane, but the hours on board the Razor Crest feel safe and almost enjoyable as Davarax’ patience with her son’s continued craving for his attention and praise.

Every time her boy butts into whatever the Mandalorian is doing, calls for him to look at what he is doing instead, Dulsissia feels a stab of dread, waiting to hear the sharp annoyance that would always follow his attempts to reach his father, but every time Davarax replies with mild amusement and eternal patience. He even brings Corin along to ‘help’ with some repairs in the cargo area and leaves her to just rest or whatever she feels like doing.

With there being no place for the man to run off with her child, it’s not like he’ll jump into space with him, and a growing trust in Davarax, Dulsissia ends up sitting in the cockpit like an idiot and having no clue what to do. It’s been almost five years since she didn’t spend every second of her day hovering over Corin.

After what feels like a small eternity of just sitting there, listening to the muffled voices from the cargo hold, Dulsissia notices her reflection in the transparisteel and slowly lifts a hand to her blond locks. Oh, she looks a mess. No wonder Davarax had decided she needed help; she looks like a wookiee.

When Davarax and Corin returns to the cockpit, she has eased the final hairpin into place and her sweet boy lights up at the sight of her. He runs over, places his hands on her knees and looks up at her with a smile so bright it makes her smile as well. “Wow. You look really pretty, mommy.”

Davarax ruffles Corin’s hair as he walks by him on the way to the pilot seat. “She always does, ad’ika.”

Her face burns for some reason. Dulsissia pulls Corin up to sit on her lap and she changes the topic. “What does that mean? You keep calling him that.”

“It’s from my language. Mando’a.” Davarax replies, fidgeting with something on the panel to see if the repairs were successful. “It’s what we call our youngsters.”

Smiling, oddly pleased with the answer, Dulsissia looks down and sees Corin has gotten oil on his face and starts the battle of wiping it away while he tries to squirm free.

It’s not just Corin who gets to learn new things. On the second day, while her boy sleeps, Dulsissia takes out the blade Davarax had given her and tests the weight and feel of it. Wearing a dress restricts the movement of her legs a bit, so she’ll need to have a good idea of how to use her arms. Make the most of what she can use.

She feels stupid, waving the blade around, pretending to stab an invisible opponent, but Dulsissia gets so into it that she’s entirely unprepared for a hand suddenly gripping her wrist.

Startled, she flinches and almost drops the knife.

“Not like that.” Davarax’ voice says from behind her. She hadn’t heard him approach.

His gloved hand slides over her pale one and helps her turn the blade so she holds it in a reverse grip instead.

“Like this. It will give you more options during an attack and more power. More power to do more damage. Plus,” Davarax steps closer and slides his other arm loosely around her waist in a slight mimicry of how those men had grabbed her, “you can do this.”

The hand on hers adds a little pressure and makes her lower her arm in a careful swing until the blade goes by her thigh and the tip comes to a halt against the front of his thigh.

“And when the blade is in, you twist.” His voice is so calm. And so close. If not for the helmet, she suspects she’d feel his words on her neck. “Understand?”

Dulsissia gives a quick little nod. Her eyes probably as big as Corin’s tend to get around this man.

“Good.” Davarax lets her go and circles to stand in front of her. “Now, if someone approaches you from the front, what you should do is-”

She still feels silly, waving the blade around and Davarax letting her practice on him when he could disarm her without even looking her way, but at the end of that first session; Dulsissia knows where to aim and how to do as much damage as possible.

Also, when the Mandalorian hands out praise, she can’t blame her son for wanting more because she realizes that she hasn’t heard too much of that in her own lifetime either and it feels really, really good to finally think she’s not hopeless at least.

-

When they land on Nevarro, Dulsissia can’t help but to feel nervous again. She picks up Corin, who allows it with a resigned sigh, and holds him close while following Davarax off the ship. The journey has been another respite before facing her difficult situation, but it’s over now.

Time to find out what will be next for her and her baby.

Davarax leads her through the dusty city, Dulsissia places a protective hand on Corin’s head and shields him from seeing leers and sneers sent their way, and they finally reach a door that brings them underground to the hidden Covert of the Mandalorians.

It’s dark below and it takes a while for Dulsissia’s eyes to adjust so she doesn’t see them until she’s walking right by the other Mandalorians, who stand there, staring at her with emotionless t-visors.

Flinching with a startled sound, she jumps forward and nearly bumps into Davarax’ back.

“They won’t harm you.” Davarax says, not turning around or even slowing his walk. “You’re safe.”

Looking around as they walk, Dulsissia hopes he is right, because there are quite an amount of armored people there and they aren’t exactly rolling out a welcoming committee. “If you say so.”

In the depths of the tunnels, they approach what appears to be the seat of power, judging by the decorations and respectful behaviour of the ones there.

They have taken one step inside the room, it appears to some kind of a forge, when Davarax stops and Dulsissia follows his example. “Stay here.” He says. “Only speak when spoken to.”

She then watches in silence as he steps forward and walks over to kneel down in front of the forge where a Mandalorian in a golden armor and a fur cloak is working on something. Minutes pass and Dulsissia has to hoist Corin a couple of times as the boy really is getting heavy, but they all wait for what has to be the leader of the Mandalorians to finish whatever they are working on.

Finally the one in the golden helmet puts the hammer down, lingers and walks over to where Davarax is kneeling. “Did you complete your mission?”

Davarax reaches into the pocket of his belt, fishes out a handful of valuables and places them on the ground as an offering.

The leader looks at what he has brought, gives a thoughtful nod and then shifts her attention to Dulsissia. “And you have brought something else to the Covert as well.”

“They need a place to stay. Somewhere safe.”

“A foundling is always welcome.” The leader replies in a neutral voice. “This other one does not look like a warrior.”

“She has the makings of one.” Davarax counters in an equally neutral voice. “She will be my responsibility. Both of them.”

“Very well.” The leader says, but she does not sound pleased. “This is the way.”

“This is the way.” Davarax echoes. He gets up and walks out of the room, only pausing to give Dulsissia’s arm a light touch to signal her to follow him. She does.

Once they are at a certain distance from the room and the leader, Dulsissia hoists Corin, who she suspects is too scared by these new surroundings to say anything, and voices her thoughts. “She doesn’t want me here.”

Davarax does his little trademark huff of a laugh. “Don’t worry about it.”

Dulsissia sighs and hoists Corin a little again. Her arms are burning. She does not expect Davarax to come to an abrupt halt, forcing her to stop as well, and turn around to hold out his arms.

“Give him to me.”

Dulsissia clutches Corin a little closer and stares at him with surprise at his betrayal.

His helmet tilts a little and Davarax is the one to sigh. “Just until I can show you your room.”

She hesitates for several seconds. What convinces her is Corin pushing away from her and reaching out to him, and only then does Dulsissia hand her son over to the Mandalorian and awkwardly wraps her arms around herself instead.

Corin quickly settles on Davarax’ arm and looks around with bright, curious eyes from his new and taller perch.

The Mandalorian reaches out his free hand and gently touches by her shoulder. “Come.” He says, not unkindly. “Let me show you where you’ll stay.”

-

The door slides open. Stepping inside, Davarax following her with Corin, Dulsissia looks around and finds it small and modest but far cleaner and inviting than some of the inns she and her son have stayed at during these last weeks. There are no windows, but there is a light in the ceiling.

There are two beds, a rickety looking table and some hooks in the wall to hang clothing on.

“It’s not much, I know.” Davarax sounds a bit awkward. “But it will be yours.” Dulsissia looks over at him with a grateful smile. “It’s wonderful. Thank you.”

Davarax turns sideways and points at the door they can see across the hallway. “That’s me. If you need anything.” He puts Corin down on his own two feet and lets him run over to climb into the closest bed and start jumping on it.

“Corin, baby, no.” Dulsissia says, meeting the defiant look he sends her way with a stern look of her own and feels a smug sense of victory when the boy sits down with an annoyed huff. She can then turn her attention back to Davarax. “You have done so much for us already. How can I ever repay you?”

He seems surprised by her words and it takes a second before he shakes his head. “There is nothing to repay. You don’t owe me anything. Neither does your boy. I just want you two to be safe.”

Dulsissia has to turn away to hide her eyes flooding with tears. She’d given up on there being decent people in the Galaxy and then she had to stumble across the most noble of them all?

“I’ll, uh, give you some time to settle in. Get some rest.” Davarax mumbles, backing out of the room. “I’ll be back later. I’ll see if I can get you some spare clothes. I know there are some for Corin. And then I’ll show you two around. Sounds good?”

“Will you show me the training room?” Corin asks with badly hidden hope.

“Absolutely, young sir.” Davarax replies with a bow that has Corin giggle with delight.

When the door slides shut behind the Mandalorian, Dulsissia walks over to sit next to her sweet boy and combs her fingers through his thick, dark hair. “We are going to stay here for a while, baby. Okay?”

Corin nods eagerly and gives her another gap-toothed smile. “Yeah! Dav’rax gonna show me where he trains to fight bad guys. Maybe he can teach me too?”

“We’ll see.” Dulsissia replies, unwilling to make any promises on behalf of the man. While she’d prefer her son to never see battle in his lifetime, she’s not stupid. Once she chose to leave Seswenna, she condemned them both to an existence where they both will have to learn to defend themselves.

She and Corin explore the room, discover there is a barely visible door on the western wall that leads to what has to be the Galaxy’s tiniest refresher room, and they play-fight over who gets which bed, but in the end there isn’t all that much to do but wait for Davarax to return.

When there finally is a knock on the door, both Dulsissia and Corin eagerly jump to their feet and is equally pleased to see the now almost familiar Mandalorian. Dulsissia is fairly certain she’d be able to recognize his helmet and armor in a sea of others at this point.

Davarax holds out a small pile of clothes. “This will at least give you something to change into.”

Accepting the gift, Dulsissia manages another smile, despite once again feeling the bite of humiliation. She thinks about the gorgeous dresses she used to wear. The adorable outfits she had made for Corin. She’ll probably be the first Motti to ever use second-hand clothing… Then she snaps out of it and clutches the clothes close with a sense of appreciation instead. “Thank you.”

“And you, ad’ika, are you ready to check out your new home?” Davarax asks Corin.

“Yes, sir!” Corin replies, back straight and eagerness barely contained.

The Covert, as she understands it is called, is a complicated network of hallways and tunnels. It used to be the old sewers of Neverro, Davarax explains and Dulsissia tries not to shudder. At least Macero won’t think to look for them here.

The other Mandalorians are still staring quietly at her, but the ones Davarax introduces her to give her a polite nod at least. They don’t seem hostile, but they aren’t exactly brimming with hospitality either. Dulsissia suspects that maybe they don’t get too many visitors in their underground home.

She minds her manners, tries to not offend anyone and considering that none of them draw their frankly intimidating blasters says she might not be doing the worst job of it. Dulsissia used to be so very good at socializing. She was the queen of all the balls back on Seswenna. Now she’s only hoping not to offend.

“And I saved the best for last.” Davarax says with the excitement she usually hears from her son. He stops by a door, turns to face her and lets his hand over over the button to open. “My kids.”

Dulsissia has just enough time to feel both surprise and nervousness and then the door slides open.

-

Lined up in a neat row, clearly having been given firm instructions to be followed when Davarax brought her and her son, four children stand in the middle of what looks like a training room and stare at the new arrivals.

The one of the left has to be Paz. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was sixteen, not eleven. He’s a lot taller than the others, but lacks the lankiness that would usually follow such an early height growth. He has the powerful bones to carry the height, but a child’s face. Paz’ dark hair is cut entirely short except for the unruly spikes on top, his mouth is a thin, disapproving line and his big hands are clenched. Next to him, barely reaching his team-mate’s shoulder, is the one that has to be Barthor. He has curly, dark hair that is getting a bit long, scarecrow shoulders and sharp eyes that are locked on Dulsissia like he’s seeing her with a crosshair on her forehead. Next to him is definitely Raga. Like Barthor, she’s small and skinny, but she has the most amazing hair Dulsissia has ever seen. It is a wild mess, but the volume and the curls are stunning. Too bad the glare behind the mane warns her that she’ll get her fingers bit off if she so much as tries to touch it. And then, half hidden behind Raga, is the one Davarax keeps referring to as ‘little Din’. He’s not especially small for his age, but he appears to be a lot more timid than the others. He is very cute, though, with silky dark hair and soulful eyes.

Davarax walks over and starts introducing each child. Dulsissia is pleased to hear she’s guessed right about their identities and gives a brief curtsy. “Pleased to meet you. I am Dulsissia.”

Silence.

Davarax reaches out and pokes a finger at Paz’ head. “Hey.”

Paz’ nose twitches, like a hound about to bare its teeth, then he reluctantly steps forward until he stands in front of her and he reaches out a hand. “I’m honoured to meet you.”

Trying to hold back an amused smile and failing to a certain degree, Dulsissia takes his hand and he shakes hers with a stern look on his little face, trying so hard to act like an adult. She has to stop herself from hugging him. It’s so cute.

Barthor gives her a nod, which is good enough for her but gets an annoyed sigh from Davarax. Raga moves forward, Din following her like a tail, and she seems more interested in something behind Dulsissia.

What… Oh. Right.

Dulsissia reaches back and ushers Corin out from his hiding place. “This is Corin. Say hello Corin.”

“Hello.” He says in a tiny voice, looking from one to the other and probably feeling like prey. She doesn’t blame him. He hasn’t really played with other children before. Macero didn’t think it would be good for him to mix with others. And these ones are already being trained to be warriors.

Paz frowns and crossed his arms. “Are you going to take the Creed?”

Corin blinks. “I…”

“They are going to stay with us. That’s all you need to focus on, Paz.” Davarax replies.

“Is he going to train with us?” Barthor asks, his eyes still too sharp for someone so young.

“We haven’t decided that yet.” Davarax says and glances over at Dulsissia.

“He should play with us.” Raga says, her lip curling in something that could be a smile but is mostly a flash of teeth. When Corin shuffles to partially hide behind Dulsissia’s leg, Raga doesn’t move but her eyes move with him.

“He is going to play with you.” Davarax says and stalks forward until he’s standing next to Raga, towering over her. “And you’re all going to be nice to him. Understand?”

The girl scowls up at him. “I’m always nice.”

“No, you’re not.” Barthor scoffs.

Raga’s mess of a hair bounces as she snaps her gaze over at him and he shuffles over to partially hide behind the still stern-looking Paz.

“She’s going to be nice to my son,” Dulsissia says, her voice sweet and her eyes not, “because he has a mother who will have words with everyone who isn’t nice to him.”

Raga shifts her scowl over to Dulsissia, scans her, scowls harder, but when Dulsissia doesn’t give her an inch, she sighs and her little body relaxes. “Fiiiiine.”

And while all of this is happening, little Din silently watches Corin from his hiding place and Corin curiously looks back at him from his.

-

“I told them to behave.” Davarax grouses as he’s bringing her to where she can find food for herself and Corin.

Laughing, Dulsissia glances down at where her son is walking next to her, holding on to her hand and looking around with curiosity, not fear. “I think it went well.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Davarax sighs and there is actual sadness to the sound. “The others call them lost causes. Troublemakers. I know they are difficult, that their manners aren’t like Corin’s, but.. They are good kids. They really are. I wanted you to see that.”

Dulsissia reaches out and places her hand on his upper arm where there is no armor. And she speaks the truth. “I did see that.”

Davarax comes to an abrupt halt, she does the same, and despite the t-visor she can feel the look of surprise on his face.

“You… did?” There is a fragile hope in his voice that doesn’t match his rough exterior.

Dulsissia nods and smiles. “It’s like you said, Paz watches over the others like they were ‘his’ children. He did not hesitate to protect Barthor from Raga. Barthor, who would not let Raga lie and trick my son. Raga, who didn’t care that my son was an outsider and just saw him as someone to play with. And sweet little Din who despite his fear wanted so much to say hello. I think he and Corin will get along so well. And…” She hesitates, looks down at her son but finds him distracted by staring at something down the hallway and has no excuse not to say what else she saw. Dulsissia looks back up at Davarax, who is waiting for her to finish. “And I saw just how much those children love you.”

Davarax stares at her.

“You are the world, the entire Galaxy to them.” Dulsissia says, remembering the look of pure adoration and love in their eyes as he mildly chastised them for acting like tree monkeys in front of their visitors. She doubts he understands how important his role is to these children. How their happiness hangs on his words. How they will do anything for his approval. “My parents ruled our house with an iron fist. But these children? They don’t obey you because they have to or because they fear you. They do it because they love you. Because you see them.”

He shivers and the only reason she knows is because her hand is still on his arm.

“Dulcy, I…” Davarax reaches up and covers her hand with his.

“I know bad men, Davarax. I know monsters pretending to be men. But you?” Dulsissia looks over at how his hand is holding on to hers, so gently despite the strength she knows he must be capable of. “You are a good man. You are the kind of man I wish Corin had for a father.”

Davarax takes a step closer, is suddenly very close and the muscles in his arm tighten under her palm. “Is he the one you are running from?”

Dulsissia tenses up and looks down at her son. Corin is still caught up in whatever he’s staring at.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Davarax says ever so softly. “I just want to help you.”

“I know.” Dulsissia whispers. She doesn’t want to say Macero’s name. It’s stupid, but she fears if she does; it might summon him. “That is what makes you a good man.”

A light touch to her chin and Davarax’ other hand lifts her face to look up at him and there is a slight smile in his voice when he speaks. “I’m not ‘that’ good.”

Dulsissia giggles. She hasn’t giggled in years. And her face flushes.

“I’m hungry.” Corin declares.

Davarax jumps back a step and Dulsissia jumps in place and they both look down at the little boy like guilty teenagers.

“I-I’m sorry, baby. We’ll get you something to eat now.” Dulsissia stammers, her face heating up even more.

“Food. Yes. This way.” Davarax clears his throat and gestures for them to follow him.

They enter the room where food is stored, Davarax shows them where the fires are so she can cook if she feels like it and basically where all the other necessities of the Covert are.

By the time the tour comes to an end by the door to their room, Corin is exhausted and Dulsissia knows she won’t struggle finding sleep either. Still, she’s almost a little reluctant to part ways with Davarax when he pauses outside their door.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” She asks.

“I was hoping that you might want to bring Corin by training.” Davarax says. “He can observe for a while. Maybe try some exercises. Training is the best way for the children to burn off their energy and learn skills as the city above is not safe for them.”

Dulsissia nods. “I will bring him.” She hesitates, knowing he must be tired of hearing her say it but still has to; “Thank you.”

Davarax shakes his head, reaches out and gingerly tucks a golden lock behind her ear. “No thanks required.” He backs up a step, nods and spins around to march over to his door. He keeps pressing the button to his room so the door opens and shuts twice before he can actually get inside.

Late at night, curled up on her side in her bed, looking over at the barely visible silhouette of her son’s back in the other bed, Dulsissia knows she made the best decision ever by coming here.

[theshadowsong]

Ordinary evening

Yes I wrote something stupid xD My OC Diya is the assistant of Archibald and clearly annoyed of his behavior lol (with a fluffy ending)

I really tried to translate all the names of people and places right, because they differ from the German version. Sorry when something is wrong though

It was a typical ordinary evening in Clairdelune and Archibald was once again celebrating one of his parties. People of the nobility, especially of the Illusionists and the Web gathered, laughed artificially, danced and drank. And none of them wasted even a thought that someone might want to concentrate here.

Wearing a simple purple dress, Diya sat in one of the many side rooms of the mansion, trying to think. Her long hair, lighter on top than underneath, fell silky smooth into her face. Annoyed, she wiped a strand out of her field of vision and immediately regretted it a moment later. As soon as she touched her hair, it was electrified by the cold, dry air of the pole. Even the best illusion couldn‘t change that, her hair had always been very sensitive.

„Ah the little assistant.“ Diya looked up from her notes and groaned inwardly. Standing before her was the director of the Nibelungen. One of the most unpleasant people she had ever met. She tried to ignore the disparaging tone and put on a fake smile.

„What can I do for you?“ She couldn‘t help but sound a little annoyed, especially since the director had been getting on her nerves terribly for quite a while.

„Regarding the request, I assume the Ambassador has already been informed?“

Diya raised an eyebrow, „Your application has only been on file for two days, Director.“

„It is of the utmost importance that...“

„I will present the application to the Ambassador after I read it.“ She interrupted him, conspicuously emphasizing the word „after.“

The man opposite her gasped indignantly.

„I see manners have not been taught to you in any case, cook.“ Dyia looked skeptically at the director. Indeed she had been a cook before becoming Archibald‘s assistant, but she was such a miserable cook that it almost bordered on poisoning. In a way, the ambassador had probably saved her from the arduous life of a servant.

It was also to be expected that the nobility of the Pole was not very enthusiastic about showing a servant a certain amount of respect. Even if she was officially no longer one. In addition, she wasn‘t even from the Pole. Which is also not entirely true, because she was indeed born here. But because of the unequal darker skin tone, the Polians were all pale and light blond, with the sandy brown hair and the green eyes, everybody noticed immediately that she was of a different descent. Her mother came from Al Ondaltus, as a visitor to Pol. From her, she also had her family power, which she hid as well as she could.

Diya could sense and alter the emotions of others, which might not be a popular gift at the Pole. Her father had been a page who died before she was born. Her mother disappeared. But left her in the care of a nasty old woman who liked nothing better than to mend old socks over a bottle of whiskey.

„Are you being molested?“ Archibald‘s blond curly head appeared in the doorway. He was beaming as usual. His gaze lingered on the director, who grimaced.

„You should control your employees better, I already made a request two days ago...“ Archibald‘s bright laughter interrupted him and Diya just hoped for this conversation to end soon. The director of the Nibelungen scowled even more.

„But, but... do you know how many applications and documents come in here every day, I guess you‘ll have to be patient.“ Archibald fluted cheerfully and winked at Diya.

She had nothing to add.

Outraged, the director whirled around and stormed out of the room.

„Well that was interesting.“

„No it wasn‘t.“ Diya‘s headache increased, as it always does when there are too many people in one spot. Too many feelings all at once. Add to that the ever-present sensations of the family spirit she was always aware of. She would have to leave the pole just to escape Farouk‘s confused aura.

„You should really have some fun for once,“ Archibald laughed, eyeing himself over the table of documents, his breath sweet, having already had a drink or two.

„And who’s going to do all your work then?“ Diya gave the ambassador a playfully reproachful look. „Apart from that, neither the alcohol nor the presence of all these people help with my headache.“

Archibald was one of the few who knew about her powers. Diya tried to tune them out as much as possible. Diving into the feelings of others was already very personal, but on the other hand, it wasn‘t equally easy to read everyone. Many hid their true feelings from themselves, others were so open that they practically threw their feelings in her face.

Archibald‘s smile became more tentative, and he straightened up again.

„At least promise me to eat something.“ Out of nowhere, probably having held it in his hand all along, he whipped out a plate of cake.

„Ah? I guess cake counts as a full meal with you guys, huh?“ teased Diya, accepting the plate. „Sure, especially with strawberries.“

They heard some groping footsteps and then a high-pitched, definitely drunk voice of a woman, „Ohh Archi!!? Where are you?“

„Well, I’m being summoned.“ The one addressed raised his hat and gave a deliberately exaggerated bow to his assistant, who just rolled her eyes and poured herself a glass of water.

A few hours passed until the people slowly dwindled and Diya‘s headache disappeared. Sighing, she got up, the music had been off for a while, instead the sound of a piano key kept repeating.

Diya walked down a corridor past a small fountain, which she was convinced was an illusion. In the room she entered afterwards, there were several sofas, armchairs and tables. There was also a piano on which a figure was playing the same key, half lying down.

Archibald‘s curls were even more tangled than usual and his face was slightly red.

„Archibald?“

He didn‘t respond at all.

Diya looked at him for a few seconds, then sat down next to him.

„Archibald, look at me.“ gingerly, she lifted his chin and forced him to look her in the face. „Dude how much did you drink?“ reproachfully, she looked at the ambassador, but the addressed one only laughed inanely and tried to stand up. He failed miserably, staggered and almost fell down if Diya had not supported him. Without thinking about whether he might have been too heavy to be carried by his assistant, he leaned his entire weight against her.

„Thisss is... well, not... how late isss it...?“ he slurred, laughing again.

„To late.“ hissed Diya, who had to muster all her concentration not to fall down. With difficulty, she hoisted him onto a sofa, where he plopped down at an odd angle. He was still giggling stupidly to himself. She couldn‘t possibly leave him alone like that.

„You’re really making more work for me than necessary,“ she reprimanded Archibald, settling down on the sofa next to him. Archibald had stopped giggling and looked at her with wide eyes. „Are you mad at me?“

Surprised, she looked at him, sounding seriously concerned. The way he was lying next to her on the sofa, he almost seemed like a child.  „No, of course not.“

Diya was just dog-tired, nevertheless she would wait until Archibald fell asleep. She grabbed a book from the side table and started flipping through it randomly, she was way too tired to concentrate.

After 10 minutes of nursing, she thought he had fallen asleep, but suddenly he put his head on her lap. Irritated, she looked at the ambassador, with his worn clothes, unshaven face and tangled hair, he had more similarities with a bum than with a nobleman. Still, one could not help but find him attractive. Sighing, Diya closed the book and put it aside.

Gently, she placed her hand on his head. She would not find sleep in that position, but Archibald was already blissfully slumbering. Her fingers played with the surprisingly soft curls. A little helplessly, she shook her head.

„Idiot.“ whispered Diya, but could not hide a smile.

[manikas-whims]

A Place Good Enough

[Read on AO3]

Ship: Kaz Brekker X Inej Ghafa

Summary:

Kaz pays Inej's indenture at the Menagerie and she joins the dregs.

_

A short fic that adds a little more of what happens that night after Kaz takes her with him.

Note:

I'm a new fan and read the SoC Duology this Feb.

This is my first time writing these characters so please excuse anything weird, I tried my best.

Inej may seem a bit scared in this because she isn't the Inej we know in SoC. This will be the first fic of many where I'll try to show our Crows before the events of SoC. A look at their daily lives in the Dregs. And the slow development of feelings between Kanej.

Hope you enjoy this short piece ♥

Kaz

“Let’s start by getting out of here and finding you some proper clothes. Oh, and Inej,” he says, “don't ever sneak up on me again.”

And yet as he ushers the Suli girl out of the salon, the bustling streets remind him how foolish it will be to roam around the barrel at night. Ofcourse a mere glance at his cane and gloved hands is enough to ward people off. No one in Ketterdam dares crossing the young man that goes by the title of Dirtyhands. Even so, it won’t be good for his carefully crafted reputation to be seen limping around at indecent hours with an exotic girl in tow. Dirtyhands doesn’t waste time on frivolous things. He has vengeance to condemn and for that he requires proper focus and meticulous steps. Brick by brick. He reminds himself.

With a quick scan of his surroundings to make sure no one is looking, he removes the deep grey coat he’s adorning and hands it to the girl. He doesn’t miss the way she flinches at the action, probably just as scared of him as the rest of this city.

“Cover yourself.” He commands and continues walking. Thankfully, the girl doesn’t waste time being confused or shocked and quietly does as told. He also notes how she maintains a distance whilst following him but makes sure to stick close enough, her feet soundless despite the bells tied around her dainty ankles.

Inej

Kaz Brekker finally slows his walk as they approach a shabby building in the remote parts of the Barrel. Its lit and noisy but Inej can tell its definitely not a clothing store. And it is only moments later that cold realization dawns on her. There was no release from enslavement to begin with, just a deal struck between a bawd from the west stave and the lieutenant of a notorious gang in the east stave. It was a sham all along. Why wouldn’t it be? Why would one of the most sinister criminals in Kerch buy her out of slavery only to be shifted to an indenture? She should’ve been skeptical. Instead, she had been hopeful because the boy named Dirtyhands is after all, a young one like herself. She thought he may have empathized with her. He had even offered his coat to her. But oh what an utter fool she had been! Everything in Ketterdam comes with a price. Even something as natural as freedom.

Should she sprint away? She can take-off right now. He hasn’t looked back even once to check if she’s there. And he’s a cripple! She can easily outrun him. Yet all these plans formulating in her head are laced around a grim sense of fear. Kaz Brekker doesn’t need a reason. Or so she has heard. He has already earned an ill reputation for being whimsical. She mustn’t start giving him reasons to chase and drag her back down these dark alleys. So she quietly trails behind him as the door opens with a creak.

Men of varying ages who had been busy chatting and drinking, stare at them. His entry seems to raise everyone’s attention as they watch him walk by and approach the staircase. Although that’s all she sees as she continues after the uncaring boy, she does hear numerous brazen remarks.

“Am I too drunk or has Brekker actually brought in a girl?”

“Ghezen! We all must be sloshed.”

“I almost believed something was going on between him and that Zemeni boy.”

“So…Suli huh?”

Some snickers follow this particular remark but the boy doesn’t seem to mind. Does this mean their assumptions aren’t wrong? A wave of panic courses through her but Inej tries to calm herself with deep breaths, tries to focus her mind on the stairs instead. She has faced all sorts of repulsive men in the sheets. Dirtyhands can’t be much different. And even if the rumors aren’t false and he’s part-demon beneath the façade of his sharp suits,  she can still push herself to handle anything. If serving as his mistress will warrant her safety from the likes of Tante Heleen, she can do this. 

A soft clicking sound pulls her out of her trail of anxious thoughts. She notices they’ve walked past several floors and are currently going up into an attic. The inside isn’t much special but appropriately furnished— an old door placed atop several crates acting as a desk, a big window overseeing the surroundings and a door separating what she assumes must be a storage of sorts or a bedroom.

When Brekker finally turns around, his expression as unreadable as ever, Inej shivers. She takes one last gulp of air in hopes of easing herself. She can do this. She just needs to leave her body like she always does. Let the little lynx take care of such matters.

She begins by discarding his coat. Her eyes are lowered to the floor but she can sense his unwavering gaze. Maybe he’s one of those who take pleasure in watching a woman undo herself for him. Or maybe its something else entirely. His stoic demeanor doesn’t provide much to guess. Her shaky hands reach for the hooks in the back of her purple blouse. I can endure this! She mentally assures herself.

“What exactly are you doing?” comes his low voice, like a rasp of stone on stone.

Her hands fumble and come to a halt. She raises her eyelids to find a barely visible, amused smirk marring his pale countenance. “I..thought..I just–”

“Inej, was it?” he interrupts, leaning his weight on his frightening cane shaped like the head of a crow. Did she do something wrong? Will he use it on her? Her shoulders hunch slightly in preparation of whatever is to come. She hears an audible sigh instead. “I don’t remember us agreeing to such terms back at the Menagerie.”

Now she does look up, eyes wide in disbelief. “Oh..”

He passes a hand through his hair. “But since you seem eager to–”

“I’m not!” she yells, her cheeks tinted a lovely shade of pink. Frankly she doesn’t know how to react. It’s her first time speaking to a man who isn’t demanding any sexual favors from her but isn’t being very nice either.

He hobbles over to the makeshift desk and settles on a chair behind it. “Let me guess,” he starts, resting his bad leg on the tabletop and the cane in his lap. “You didn’t trust me.”

“I did!” she protests like a child  falsely accused of stealing candies. However, the embarrassment of her response follows immediately and she tilts her head down again. “Not truly but–”

“Wrong answer.” His tone is even more gritty now. “Its good that you expected the worst. Never trust anyone in the barrel.”

Inej looks at him again. It’s far too late for that lesson now. She’s learnt it the harshest of ways.

“I may be many things but I keep my word, Inej.” He adds solemnly, then fishes out a lone key from his pants' pocket. “Here” he gestures for her to come forward and receive it.

She scurries to the desk and takes it, her fingers lightly grazing along his gloved ones. Is he sending her on an errand already? Is procuring something important going to be her first task for the Dregs?

“Head downstairs and unlock the room directly below this attic with the key.” He tells simply and starts working on the tall stacks of papers lying on the desk.

She waits for further details but when he says nothing more she inquires herself, “For what?”

He glances at her, a brow quirked as if mocking her obliviousness. “Its your room from now on. Go get some sleep.”

“What about my..services?” she asks.

“We’ll discuss all that tomorrow morning.” He answers and waves her off, willing her to leave already.

Downstairs, upon unlocking an old cream-colored door and switching on the light, Inej is greeted by a tiny room. There’s a window overlooking the barrel, a cot arranged directly below it and an empty trunk lying open. Fortunately, everything is clean and dry and without any trace of smells.

As she steps inside, memories of her old life flash before her bleary eyes. This place is not even close to the large tents she used to perform in with her parents yet for some reason, she feels warm. Its not home but it’s good enough.

Shutting the door, she turns off the light and drops unceremoniously onto the cot. Moonlight illuminates the room- her room- in a dim glow. And slowly it happens. Her tense body relaxes into the mattress and her unshed emotions are set free in the form of tears slipping down her cheeks. Loud sobs rack her small frame as her hands hug the grey coat close to her chest. Amidst her shock and disbelief at actually being saved from sexual exploitation, she must have forgotten to return it. Kaz Brekker’s statement was like a dream she’s had every night since being stolen and shackled. A dream of being saved from the hell that is prostitution. I keep my word, Inej. She giggles at the sound of her real name being called by this stranger, tears staining her lips. She hasn’t heard it in so long that she almost forgot who she was. In letting her body go so as to persevere everyday at the Menagerie, she hadn’t noticed that the lively girl called Inej Ghafa was also withering away. She clutches the coat tighter as if fiercely trying to hold onto her remaining self. And for the first time since an year, she sleeps without the fear of being hurt.

Hope it was enjoyable!

I'm thinking of writing a short sequel drabble where Inej just goes to return Kaz's coat in front of everyone at the Dregs xD

.

SoC Masterlist

( divider by @firefly-graphics )

[pressedinthepages]

Wash

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Jaskier/Reader

Rating: E

Masterlist

a/n:  Reader Request: [Hi! What about Jaskier saving the female reader but getting hurt in the process. So she takes care of him after. One day she's helping him to take a bath and Jaskiers body is reacting a bit too excited. But she doesn't mind and decides to extend her help a little bit …]  ok so here’s the tea, i totally forgot about the jaskier saving the day part...so i wrote this instead XD

also thanks to @sometimesiwrite​ for being 10/10.

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: language, smut, fluff, blood

Jaskier stumbles into a tavern and finds a friendly face.

    Your chin rests in your hands as your eyelids grow heavier with each passing moment. It’s late, and there hasn’t been a guest in your tavern since the snow started falling when the sun set. Everyone headed home, leaving you here to watch the hours tick by. 

    Now, the moon hangs high in the sky and the snow falls steadily outside, blanketing the world in silent tranquility. That is, until the heavy door to the tavern bursts open with a flurry of snow and icy air, and quickly shut once more. But there was not only a light dusting of snow on the floor now.

    A young man, seemingly deposited straight from the pages of a maiden’s storybook, leans against the door. His cloak hangs askew on his shoulders and he is clutching an expensive-looking doublet in long, pale fingers. He looks up at you and you can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips. His cheeks and nose are pink with chill, making his eyes look like they are glowing in the dim light of your tavern.

    Oh, and those eyes. Bluer than the clearest sea, and you can see that they hold depths beneath them that could turn even the most experienced sailor dizzy.

    “Ah, well met,” the man breathes, his chest heaving as he catches his breath in the warm room. He stands to his full height now, several inches taller than you, and slides his cloak off of his frame. You gasp when his chemise is revealed, the shoulder torn and stained with blood the color of rich wine. 

    You rush to his side, taking the cloak and his doublet from him and tossing them onto a nearby hook for travelers. Quickly throwing the lock down for the door, you usher him towards the rear of the tavern where your living quarters rest. “By the Gods, are you alright…?”

    “Jaskier, my name is Jaskier, dear,” he smiles, but you can see the twinge of pain now that you are a bit closer. “And while I have been better, I have certainly been in nastier scraps. Nothing to be worried about.”

    You give him your name in return before you turn to stoke the fire that had been warming water for your own bath that night. “Well forgive me, Jaskier, but I think that it may be a good idea for me to worry enough for the both of us.”

    He genuinely laughs at that, leaning carefully against the wall. Fuck, his voice drips like honey from a pot. Your cheeks warm a bit as you lift the pot, pouring the warm water into your tub on the floor. “We need to get you cleaned up so I can take a look at that.”

    Jaskier quirks a brow, mischief painting his features in broad strokes. “What, the local tavern owner is the healer too?”

    You shake your head good-naturedly, gesturing to him to join you. “The closest healer is in the next town over, but I have seen my fair share of injuries.”

    “Then I should count myself lucky that it was your tavern I found myself in.” Jaskier moves quickly, reaching up to pull at the already loose strings to his shirt. He undoes them and it falls open and off of him, cascading to the ground in a pool of creamy fabric streaked with crimson.

    His chest is broader than it originally seemed, and, Melitele help you, covered in dark hair. You can see the strength that his body carries covered by a gentle layer of softness, almost certainly from a good diet of wine and good company. 

    And then he flinches as his fingers drift to the laces of his trousers, his shoulder twitching in pain. “C-could you?” He looks up sheepishly, and your hands reach out before you can think twice about it.

    Your hands shake as the laces fall open and you look up and away to try and preserve at least some of his modesty, but you can feel how warm and solid his legs are as you push the pants down to the ground.

    “Thank you, sweet girl,” Jaskier says, holding his hand out to help you up. You lead him towards the warm bath you’ve prepared and help him settle in before pulling up a stool behind him.

    The moan that he lets out, though, when he reclines back in the bath, would make a priestess blush. The heat from the water flushes his chest and his head thunks against the rim of the tub and his blue, blue eyes blink open at you.

    You swallow in an attempt to quell the redness creeping across your cheeks, but it's no good. The best you can hope for is that your professionalism won't let you down. 

"We should get that wound clean and bandaged before you lose blood into the hot water," you say, having dealt with your fair share of injuries from tavern brawls and travelers. Even a witcher once came through with a bloody brow... took some convincing to let you clean him up, but he eventually conceded. He was nice, you thought as you got your med kit from behind the bar. Nicer than you'd've expected when he first came in, scowling and bloody and asking for vodka. You hum to yourself as you look for the right bottle.

“Do you sing?” Jaskier asks, seemingly unperturbed by his injury. You turn back to him with the bottle of clear alcohol in hand, your skirt swirling around on the floor. “Not typically, no,” you reply, sitting back down on the stool and uncorking the bottle. Your free hand finds his uninjured shoulder and rubs soothing circles over the tan skin. “This will sting.”

He inhales sharply and grits out a moan as the everclear wicks into his open wound, “Vayopatis that smarts!!” 

“I’m sorry. A bit of tough love, I’m afraid. Hold still.” Your words are firm but your touch is gentle and caring as you continue.

“So,” you ask lightly as you dip a clean cloth into the water, lifting it to the wound, “just how did you find yourself with this?” 

“Ah, nothing far out of sorts,” Jaskier replies, his voice thin and pained. “Heard someone speaking poorly of a dear friend of mine, so I gave them a piece of my mind. As I turned to walk away, they threw a knife at me! A KNIFE! Coward.”

“Seems you got lucky, looks like it just grazed the skin.” The wound has stopped bleeding now, and Jaskier seems to be melting a bit under your hands. “You still with me?” 

“Oh, very much so,” Jaskiers voice is thick and strained, and his neck has flushed a pretty pink.

“Would you like me to help, ah...wash?” Your voice trembles a bit as you reach down next to you for the soap.

Jaskier smiles, his shoulders relaxing and his knees poking up above the water as he gets comfortable. “I’ll never say no to a bath from a lovely lady.”

You roll your eyes and laugh a little, the tension easing away like suds in the water. You add some soap to the cloth and drag it across his back, over the lines of muscle and down his spine. You are careful around the tender skin of his injured shoulder, but he seems content to lay and let you wash him. 

The air turns thick in the room with the warmth of the water and you can feel sweat bead at the nape of your neck. You unlace the neck of your shirt and let it fall open, the soft skin of your breasts just peeking out into the night. You stand and bring the stool around to sit at Jaskiers side facing him, and you don’t miss when his eyes linger on your exposed bosom.

You hold out your hand expectantly and Jaskier’s gaze falls to your fingers. He stares for a moment, his mind drawing a blank as the air around him feels tighter and tighter. You clear your throat and wiggle your fingers, and Jaskier finally gets the hint. He slides his hand into yours and you hold up his arm, running the soapy cloth down from his shoulder to his wrist. The grime of travel is washed away with every stroke, and Jaskier swallows thickly with each passing moment, warmth blossoming low in his belly. 

You can’t claim to be unaffected either, for you can feel his gaze burning into your skin like a brand. But not in an unwelcome, perverse way. No, Jaskier’s eyes watching your every move feel curious, searching for an answer to a yet unasked question.

Once both arms are clean you lean in, pressing the cloth to the broad expanse of his chest. You drag it lazily over the crook of his collarbone and down through the soft smattering of hair on his skin. His breath hitches and his cheeks turn pink when you brush over his nipple, and you bite the inside of your cheek in an effort to stifle your own moan at the noise.

Your hand drifts lower over his stomach and you can feel it rise and fall with each of his breaths. You are just about to dip below the line of the water when Jaskier’s hand suddenly darts out and catches your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You instantly retreat, cheeks growing warm with the ideas of what exactly you were about to do.

“Ah, darling, wait,” Jaskier breathes, keeping your hand tight in his. “I just-I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea...y-you’ve been so wonderful and I-uh, my body is ah, well. Very appreciative...” 

You blink as your heart does flips in your chest and you only barely resist the urge to glance down to the water between his legs. “Well, if you wanted...I coul-I could help?”

And then, Jaskier’s face does something truly remarkable. It turns from the soft, apologetic young man to something darker, more primal. His eyes dilate and he grins toothily, and he tips his chin up, exposing the graceful line of his neck. “If you’re certain, darling, be my guest.”

His grip on your hand loosens, though he keeps you well within his grasp. Your hand goes back to his stomach and your fingers drift lower and lower, teasing at the edge of the water before plunging in. Jaskier’s eyes flutter closed and his breath catches when you find his arousal between his legs, hard and straining just past where the eye could see. 

You carefully wrap your hand around the base, feeling the coarse hairs tickle your fingers. His cock throbs at your touch and you move your hand slowly, tugging gently up and back down. “Gods, woman,” Jaskier rasps, his fingers flexing where they now grip the rim of the tub, “h-how are your hands s-so soft?”

“Softer somewhere else,” you whisper, smirking with a wink when his eyes shoot open and grip yours with fervor. Your hand moves faster, just a bit, but enough to have his hips rocking up to meet you. 

“Fuck,” Jaskier’s chest rises high and falls far with every gulping breath that is pulled from him. You lean in and press your lips to his skin, hot and wet and by the Gods so are you. Warmth pools low in your belly as you watch Jaskier fall apart under your hand, and for a fleeting moment, you think about what it may be like to have this in your bed.

“C’mon, Jaskier,” you murmur against his skin, twisting your wrist and squeezing lightly around him, “let me take care of you.”

Jaskier nods and swallows thickly, his hips thrusting harder and harder, chasing a quickly approaching high. Water sloshes out onto the floor and he gasps for air as he grows closer and closer under your watchful eye. “P-please, holy hells, I ju-”

“Go on, Jaskier,” you murmur into the hollow of his throat, “give me your pleasure.”

And then, seemingly quite surprisingly to him, he does.

A ragged gasp tears from his throat as he throws his head back, stuttering up into your hand. Warmth coats your fingers and you slow, still intent on wringing every last drop from him. Jaskier in the throes of climax is a glorious sight, his cheeks pink and muscles tensed, teeth bared with every breath he pulls. His stomach tenses and you move your hand away, not wanting to push too far. You press your lips to his neck one last time before standing, crossing over to the drying cloth that hangs on the back of your door. 

“J-just give me a moment, darling,” Jaskier breathes, slowly blinking his eyes open. “I’ll gladly return the favor.” 

You bring your washing jug over to the bath and set it on the stool along with the cloth. “Don’t worry about me, Jaskier,” you murmur as you help him to stand in the bath, “I just wanted to make you feel good.”

You find the washing cloth and dip it into the jug, wiping Jaskier down from the now-soiled bathwater. Now that he’s standing and you feel a bit more comfortable, you are able to truly appreciate just how pretty his cock is. Long and just thick enough, with dark hair around the base between his legs. And, Gods be good, half-hard against his thigh. You look up at him through your lashes and find him reaching for you, fitting his finger under your chin and bringing you to close the gap. 

“And now,” he whispers darkly, danger dripping with honey, “I’d like to make you feel good.”

[robin-the-enby]

If matchups are still open and if it isn't to much trouble may i have black butler (male) matchup please. My pronouns are she/her. Im a Capricorn, my Mbti type is infj-a/infj-t. I tend to be shy around new people but I can be somewhat loud with people who im close to. I have medium length brown hair, green eyes i wear round glasses,pale skin and a lot of freckles. My height is 5'0. I also would consider myself helpful. If someone asks for help with work or something ill try my best to help them. Im not very athletic and im not a big fan of sports but i love to go roller and ice skating. I also love to read books and to also cook and bake food. I also like to garden. I've been playing the violin for 6 years. I love animals and im planing on becoming a wildlife veterinarian. I like to Watch nature/animal documentaries. I also like sweets. My aesthetic would probably be cottagecore. Some things i dislike are people who bend or ruin my books and people who speak over me when im trying to talk. I hope this is ok, sorry if i spelt anything wrong. Hope im not bothering :)

Hello fellow INFJ, welcome to my humble blog! Enjoy your stay! I also considered being a vet, but I'm scared of dogs, so I dropped the idea XD Anyway, I match you with:

Agni

This man is a literal sweetheart. He wouldn't even think of teasing you for being shy, if anything, he gives you some space if you need it.

He is definitely attracted to your kindness, it is something that he values, along with loaylty.

The domestic vibes I'm getting right now, omg.

He would love you even more if you got along with Soma, even though he can act more spoiled than Ciel and Alois combined sometimes.

Even if he had a hard day, he finds the energy to take care of you. Agni would love to do stuff for you, like cooking or washing your hair.

But he loves it even more when you do those things together. Basically anything that you like doing, cooking, tending to the garden, he'd love it if you could do it together.

Although he owes Soma his life, you give him something that he had never had in his life, warmth. And not just any kind of warmth, the kind that only true love can give.

He doesn't want to lose that and so you quickly become his number one, along with Soma.

The young prince is so supportive of you two, just saying. He loves to hear Agni talk about what you two do, because he loves seeing Agni happy. He also may or may not scold him to be good to you from time to time (only jokingly though, because it's clear as day that that man is smitten with you).

It is most likely that Agni has never been ice or roller skating, but he wouldn't be opposed to trying. He'd fall down a few times before getting used to it. Once he does it comes surprisingly easy to him.

He would love watching you ice skate, he thinks you look so graceful, like a ballerina.

If you fall down or get hurt, he gets really worried, please reassure him that you're fine.

I don't think he'd be too into dates since you're spending so much time together as it is, but apart from the skating, he would also like trips to nature, picnics in fields, mushroom picking, making flower crowns (he'd definitely blush if you put a flower crown on his head out of the blue, bby)

He is in awe of your choice of profession. It's one thing to be kind to humans, but a whole other to do the same for animals. Agni thinks it is much harder, since you can't easily articulate to them that you want to help and that makes him admire you even more.

All in all 10/10 supportive, cute boyfriend <3

Others I can see you with: Finnian - I think that he is very much like Agni in many ways, so I'm not gonna repeat myself and tell you some other things that I think would apply for Finny. You could actually teach him how to tend to the garden so it doesn't die. The poor boy is always afraid of hurting you with his inhuman strength and would train in secret with the other servants to learn to control it better. He would be more into taking you out on dates, if the young master gave him permission, he'd love ice skating, but would be terrified of roller skating, because whoa, there are wheels on his feet and omg what does he do now?? But his favourite would definitely be trips to nature, it makes him feel even more free than in the Phantomhive mansion.

[fromashescomephoenixes]

Heya! It’s me again lol! May I request a Sirius x Reader hilariously crashing the Dursleys wedding? Also James and Lily (who were invited to the wedding) didn’t know they were gonna show up which makes it more funny 🤣🤣

Wedding Splashers

warnings: this was written late at night without proofreading! sorry XD

word count: 1.6k

summary: Sirius x y/n crash the Dursley’s wedding, much to the amusement of James and Lily.

a/n: thank you so much for the great request! I hope this is somewhat like what you had in mind :)

••••

“C’mon y/n!” Sirius poked at me. “It will be so much fun!” I sighed and rolled over, so that I was no longer facing him.

“Shush Sirius I’m going to sleep,” I groaned.

“You know it will make Lily so happy,” he continued. That statement did capture my attention a little bit.

“I don’t know Siri,” I closed my eyes as I spoke, but now all I could see was Lily’s overjoyed face. Her green eyes glittering with laughter. “I suppose,” I finally replied mischievously.

“That’s my girlfriend!” With that I rolled back over and propped my pillow up so I could see him in the dim starlight. We began to make our plans, and I charmed one of my least favourite dresses to be even uglier.

••••

We had woken up early this morning, and I had put on my ghastly ruffled dress that looked like it had been shredded by some fearsome creature. I had transfigured it to be a bright, loud neon green. Of course, there were also brown polka dots all over it.

“My angel, you look hideous!” Sirius grinned with delight. We had planned this very carefully. He was looking very, erm, dapper, in a pale puke green suit, which also had brown spots to compliment my dress. Of course, his outfit wouldn’t matter quite so much...

I sat quite at breakfast for a moment. My vision of Lily’s laughing eyes had suddenly been shadowed by her disappointment.

“Siri, what if Lily gets mad at us for making her sister upset?”

“After what happened at their Wedding?” Sirius began to guffaw loudly. That’s when I remembered the screeching match that had happened during the ceremony. I never thought anyone would actually have the audacity to object to a marriage at someone’s wedding. Apparently Petunia was the only one with that amount of selfishness. How could I forget that she also managed to insult every single wizard in the room, especially James and Sirius?

“You’re right. Plus this has no bad spirit behind it. We simply want to lighten the awful mood,” I smiled a little.

“That’s the spirit!” Sirius exclaimed. “Now my glorious goddess, we are off to complete what many only dream of.” He paused for dramatic effect.

“We’re going to crash a wedding!”

••••

James and Lily had had a rather hectic morning. First, Lily’s dress hadn’t quite fit due to the newly acquired baby bump. So of course she had to alter it rather speedily.

Then, Bathilda Bagshot has called getting their breakfast date confused by two weeks. This had led to a rather flustered James having to patiently explain that they were running late to a wedding.

Of course, that was when the toaster had decided fizzle out and start smoking rather alarmingly.

“It’s practically Petunia trying to make sure I don’t actually show up!” Lily exclaimed in an exasperated tone. She looked rather lovely in a soft green dress which flowed out nicely. Before they hurried out the door she was choosing whether to wear her pearl earrings or her gold earrings.

“It’s going to be okay dear,” James comforted her as he fiddled with the smoking toaster. “The knight bus will be very fast, and I’m sure she does want you there,”

“My mom does at least,” Lily sighed looking at the invitation with her mom’s handwriting signing it.

“It will be very nice to support her. You’re being the bigger person my darling,” James rubbed her shoulders.

“Thank you dear,” Lily rested her head onto his shoulder.

“Alright, we ought to go!” They locked their cottage door and summoned the Knight Bus.

••••

The Knight Bus was quite busy that particular morning. Perhaps due to the Holyhead Harpies game taking place that afternoon.

As it would happen, Sirius and y/n were actually on the same bus as James and Lily, however since they were wearing particularly ‘unique’ outfits, they slipped by unnoticed.

“Is that-“ Lily began as you hustled on to the bus a couple of stops later. “No, it couldn’t be,” she giggled nervously.

“Hmm?” James responded, taking Lily’s hand.

“Are you stressed?” Lily asked James.

“A little,” James admitted. “But I don’t mind braving this for you,” He smiles sweetly. Sirius mimed throwing up as you both watched them from the level above. You gave a small laugh and simply took his hand.

••••

The wedding was quite busy. It definitely was not a low profile event. Privately I thought that the decoration was a little over the top. It appeared that they had modelled their wedding after the recent royal wedding. They had just had a slightly bigger budget and guest list...

Dozens of orangey roses stood in opulent gold vases, which were at the end of every row of chairs. The chairs themselves all had orange and gold coverings, and there must have been three hundred seats. How anyone could remember , much less know that many people was beyond me.

“Oh my,” I exclaimed in horror, momentarily forgetting my ugly dress.

“Looks like we dressed appropriately y/n,” Sirius said with a twinkle in his eye. I simply nodded, to overwhelmed by everything to respond.

As planned, we took as seat as close to the front as we could. Plus we were next to the aisle. Everything was going perfectly according to plan. Sirius silently transformed into his animagus form, and I uncovered the dish of mud we had brought with us. Someone came by and asked to check our invitation. A simple confundus charm put an end to that, however I couldn’t help but giggle to think that they were so worried about someone uninvited joining their 300+ wedding group that they had some poor old man walking around checking tickets.

Soon the ceremony began, and Petunia began stomping (I would say gliding, but... oh dear there’s truly no other way to describe it. Her gown was certainly very impressive. It was at least as wide as a car, or so it appeared, and reminded me of a birds nest in a strange way. The train was at least ten feet long, and seven bridesmaids followed behind.

That’s when it began.

Vernon began to cry. He started spluttering ‘Pe-Petunia’ he ended with a soft wail. It would be romantic, however all it reminded me of was when he had spluttered at James in anger last we saw them. His wails echoed off of the cathedral hall, and drowned out the wedding march playing on the organ.

Snuffles and I sat quietly through the ceremony. I must admit that it wasn’t the worst wedding I could imagine... They seemed to love each other very much. But our plan was too close now.

“Speak now, or forever hold your peace!” The Minister boomed. He glanced around a little apprehensively. That was my cue. I stood up and began my little speech, of course I recited in my very bad American accent, just to throw everyone off of the sent.

“Well now y’all!” I announced. “Don’t y’all sugarplums get me wrong, I ain’t objecting. I just love you two too much for words I-“ Sirius began his muddy journey up the aisle.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see momentary looks of horror pass James and Lily’s faces. To my relief I saw it was quickly replaced with a subtlety amused smile.

“Oh my dear precious poochie!” I shrieked in a very prim English accent. “Oh my word, no not the dress snuffles!” Sirius walked all over the train before pawing at the front of Petunia’s dress. I began to jog wobbly up the aisle. At these actions I heard a slight laugh quickly disguised as a cough come from the general direction of James and Lily. With a grin I began to further dramatise my clumsy journey to the alter.

“Oh goodness, don’t worry every body. My darling Snuffles simply wants to be part of the fun!” I arrived at the front. With a quick pinch to Petunia’s heavily rouged cheek I scooped Snuffles up off of the ground. “Oh who is my precious honey bunny pooh bear?!” I continued in a shrieking tone.

“GET OUT!” Vernon finally regained his senses to a degree. Eager to escape the anger of the groom and bride I hustled down the aisle. Lily and James were freely laughing at this point, as were quite a few other guests.

••••

Sirius transformed back as soon as he could safely and we dissolved into helpless laughter.

“Oh the looks on their faces!”

“We pulled that off magnificently y/n!” Sirius cheered.

“Let’s just hope they don’t try and sabotage our wedding!” I exclaimed without even thinking.

“You want to get married?!” Sirius stood up a little straighter. I blushed realising exactly what I had said. I nodded eagerly, but couldn’t speak out of embarrassment.

Sirius let out a cry of joy before scooping me into his arms and pressing a kiss on to my lips.

“I promise to love you, even if we have a mangy dog attack us during our wedding,” I grinned, teasing him.

“Mangy dog?” Sirius shouted. He scooped me up again, but this time with a much more malicious intent as he jogged towards the lake. I quickly transfigured my dress into some bearable bathers. With a splash I was launched into the lake.

“Hey!” I sent a wave of water towards Sirius.

“You don’t want me to smell like wet dog in bed tonight!” Sirius teased, wiggling his eyebrows. I simply grinned and splashed him again.

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

Ya know what these self-indulgent Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow posts need? Self-indulgent banner art, that’s what.

Spoilers for issue #4!

Let’s start this off right with CREATOR CREDITS. Issue 4 of Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow is titled “Restraint, Endurance, and Passion.” Written by Tom King, Art by Bilquis Evely, Colors by Matheus Lopes, Letters by Clayton Cowles, and Edited by Brittany Holzherr. (w/ Assist. Editor: Bixie Mathieu & Senior Editor Mike Cotton)

THE STORY: 

Right, so this? This issue? Best one yet.

Also the bleakest of the bunch thus far; even though we don’t always see the brutality of the space pirates that Kara and Ruthye are following, there’s...the suggestion of it. The aftermath. And how Kara responds to it.

Okay, getting a little ahead of myself. BASIC PLOT SUMMARY: Ruthye and Kara continue their pursuit of Krem, who has taken up with Barbond’s Brigands.

The Brigands basically just. Murder and terrorize people, for profit.

Each planet they visit brings new horrors, as well as people who need Supergirl’s help.

And help she does.

KARA-CTERIZATION:

I yell a lot about the art on this book, and have, in fact, openly admitted that I’m primarily here for Evely and Lopes.

Well, that wily son-of-a-gun King went and wrote some of the best ‘Super’ stuff I’ve ever read and dang it, dang it, now I gotta yell about the words too. XD

Specifically, I wanna yell (in a good way!) about some words that occur towards the very end of the book.

Kara and Ruthye have Seen Some Things; things like genocide and mass grave sites and horrible violence, and upon reaching a planet where peaceful monks were slaughtered, Kara’s had enough, and needs to leave because if she screams, she’ll destroy what little is left of the monks’ monastery.

Here’s the text in full, because my gosh. It’s so good:

“What I write next I write based on my observations in those long-ago days at the side of the greatest warrior in the history of this august reality we all call home. It is important to note that my assertions do not rely on anything Supergirl said. It was not a subject we ever discussed or even approached, but nonetheless I believe it to be as true as the turning of worlds. You see, what is not well understood about the daughter of Krypton is that her power was not one of action but one of restraint, endurance, and passion. She did not choose to fire a beam from her eyes, or have breath of ice, or run faster than a speeding bullet. Or any of her other well-documented miracles. No, she held back her heat vision to look you in the face. She warmed her breath to converse with you. She slowed herself to walk by your side. Ever moment of every day, she suppressed the forces churning inside of her. All of the energy of a dead world that strained against her many barriers, eternally demanded to be released. I believe this effort hurt her. I believe she lived her life in pain. But I reiterate again, for I think it important enough to repeat--These beliefs are based on my time at her side, watching her as she moved through strife and sorrow. If you were to have asked her, I have little doubt she would have claimed that such as assertion was absurd. She would say she felt fine and well and then she’d as you if you needed any help.”

A long chunk of words, I know (this comic is DENSE!) but like. This is it. This is one of the defining attributes of the Supers--all that raw power at their disposal and they choose to help people, to be kind, to suppress that power for the benefit and safety of others.

HNNNNNNNG.

Hope, Help, and Compassion for All.

Whole lotta folks claimed at the outset of this book that King did not understand Kara, that he was a bad fit. And that may be so, I suppose--there’s a whole other discussion about like. The violence and swearing and ‘does that belong in a Supergirl book?’ But the characterization? Getting that Kara and Clark are just good people? 

King gets it. He got it in Superman: Up in the Sky and he gets it here, in Woman of Tomorrow.

Other things King gets! Kara is stubborn! Kara is passionate! Kara is going to fix things, even if the effort of doing so hurts her, physically, emotionally, and mentally!

(Fuuuuuuun fact for the crowd saying that Woman of Tomorrow is vastly superior to the CW show: TV Kara is ALSO all of those things! King isn’t pulling this stuff out of thin air. It’s almost like...gosh. I don’t know! Both the show and Tom King are pulling from the character’s comic history, or something!!!! HOW NOVEL.) 

Like, seriously. There’s a lot of overlap. Stop pitting Karas against each other!

Anyways!

I promised art, so here is art!

Oh, right, forgot to mention, Kara literally THROWS HERSELF INTO THE SUN to express her grief and anger, so as to not cause that unnecessary destruction. She gives new meaning to the phrase: Set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm. 

More art yelling: GOTTDAMN, the way Evely draws Kara just colliding with the surface of the sun and then the way Kara’s hair like...becomes the flames...

I am FEELING FEELINGS. HOW DARE.

Also, props to King and Cowles; King for deciding to have that initial scream, Cowles for the way the letters burst forth from the point of impact on the sun, and then back to King who decided that it would just be...devastating silent screaming from Kara, for the remainder of the scene. 

Back to the characterization, I just wanted to highlight something I mentioned...earlier on, I think? In these posts? But haven’t brought up recently, and that is how this book has not once brought up Zor-El, and I think Superman only got a quick mention in issue 2.

Honestly, I think that’s gotta be some kind of record.

It’s so refreshing. Not because I think there should never be mentions of Clark, or anything--I love that boy--but because so much of modern Supergirl comic drama is mined from the same like, angsting over her place compared to Clark, or her crazy sometimes-a-supervillain dad. 

There is no Clark and Kara drama here, no manufactured friction, because it’s just. A cool Supergirl story! 

Gonna keep going, but let’s do it with some more...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTT!!!!

Once again, Mat Lopes is all over the dang place with his palettes, it’s marvelous.

Each new planet gives Evely the opportunity to go hog wild on the worldbuilding and design, and similarly! Each new locale is an opportunity for Lopes to set the tone with colors. Like, here, towards the beginning of the book, we’ve got a planet bathed in this warm, pale yellow/orange light. 

(Quick note: “Sure, yeah, I get it. We all have our duties. And it’s mine as a neighbor to do what I can to help you with yours. Please.” A+ Kara content. We love to see it. And then locating the remains of the alien’s daughter, so that they can go visit the grave site and have some emotional closure???? It’s just. So. Touching.)

Anyways, back to colors.

Like!!!! LOOK AT THAT JUMP. From the soft, almost pastoral feel of the delicate oranges and yellows to HARD GREEN, PINK, AND PURPLE. (Difficult colors to pull off in print, I might add.) 

(This is also an interesting scene, character-wise, because I think it helps re-contextualize some earlier stuff with Kara. Like, I’m mostly thinking that incident on the bus, where she was swearing at the passengers as the space dragon was about to destroy them. Here, we see Kara kind of...goad this alien woman into releasing her pent up emotions by yelling at her/getting her to fight, and you can clearly see at the end of it that Kara did not mean the things she said, because check this out:

She goes and gives her a hug once the woman is able to finally cry.

It’s not ‘Kara is being mean, Kara is swearing at her’, it’s, ‘Kara has an unorthodox solution to a problem, and she’s gonna FIX that problem, NO MATTER WHAT.’

Circling back to the bus thing--again, that could be an instance of ‘unorthodox approach to a weird situation that Kara is going to handle because lives are at stake.’)

But also, DIG THAT KIRBY KRACKLE, BAY-BEEEEE!

And a little Strange Adventures easter egg! The Pykkts! 

(I think those guys are unique to the Black Label series, rather than deep Adam Strange lore, but don’t quote me on that.)

Moving on to YET ANOTHER PALETTE, one I’ve dubbed, ‘Treasure Planet Purple/Grey’

Love Ruthye’s snoozing against the door, waiting for Kara.

Also, just as striking as the colors of the environment, are the colors used on Kara. 

If you compare this page with the previous one, Kara’s eyes are a paler shade of blue, and the red-rimmed look on her eyes here is not as intense as the red-rimmed look we saw back in issue one, when she was confronting Krem. 

All of which to say! There’s a pale, haunted quality to both the linework and the colors. Like. We know Kara has Seen Some Things. But she’s shoving all that stuff down to protect Ruthye, to save Krypto, and to stop these monsters, and you get all of that WITH COLORS AND LINES ON A PAGE.

I love it, I love it so much.

OTHER BOOKS WISH THEY HAD THIS LEVEL OF CHARACTER ACTING, I TELL YA! THEY WISH THEY HAD THIS BEAUTIFUL ALCHEMY OF INKER, COLORIST, AND WRITER WORKING IN SUCH TIGHT TANDEM!

Ahem. XD

Alright, last bit of art, lest I just. Post the whole issue in here. (Which I’m honestly always tempted to do but Strong Feelings about Piracy hold me back.)

JUST HECKIN’ LOOK AT THAT BLUE, MAN. JUST LOOK AT IT. S’BEAUTIFUL.

And more stunning character acting from Evely. Like. Bottom middle panel. The expression, the tilt of her head and the shadows on her eyes...

*insert silent flailing here*

Oh, also, KRYPTO LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVESSSS (for now). 

I’m never right about these things, so I’m glad the one time I’ve correctly read a thing is when it involves Krypto not, ya know. Being dead. XD

Also absolutely love that Kara’s instinct is to send Ruthye home to protect her--once more leaning into that whole, ‘I’m going to protect you, even at great cost to myself’, though of course we know that she can’t send her home, not here, not now, just halfway through our journey. 

ERRRRRRGH, so mad we’re not getting twelve issues of this! CURSE YOU, POOR SUPERGIRL TRADE SALES! CURSE YOOOOOOU!

That said, King’s pacing? Has been phenomenal. I feel like Strange Adventures and even Mr. Miracle kinda...I’m not gonna say dragged, that’s not quite right. But it is more build up, I guess. Takes a while to get to the payoff.

Here, I think King is pushing things steadily along as he doesn’t have the benefit of an additional four issues, so he has to get to the point, so to speak. Keeps everything moving.

SOME FINAL, MISC. STUFF:

I’ve sort of glossed over the darker stuff from this issue, and I just wanna note that like. This is a book that features a bad guy getting stoned (in the death sentence way, not the drug way) on panel. Like. I can’t recommend this to children.

I can’t even really recommend it to some other Supergirl fans, because I know that the King elements will be too off-putting. 

It never feels like the book is going too far, though. At least in like an...exploitative way? If that makes sense?

The violence is handled with discretion, I guess is what I’m trying to convey. This could very easily tip over into like, gross shock factor territory, if not handled well, but I think the creative team pulls it off.

...Still wouldn’t hand this book to kids, though. XD

As mentioned, we’re halfway through this series! Can’t wait to see where it goes--every time I think I have this book figured out, it surprises me. So, like. Bring on the Dinosaur planet! With no sunlight! I wanna see how Lopes handles THAT. XD

(But Oh, OooooOOooh, we gotta wait until NOVEMBER.)

(Hhhnnnnng!)

(Then again, maybe that’s good; we’ve got the TV show in the meantime, and then once it ends we can pick right up with new Supergirl content just a few weeks later.)

(...Aw. Made myself a little sad, thinking about the TV show coming to an end.)

:C

So as not to end on that sad note, here once again is tiny, smushed Kara:

Give ‘em the ol razzle dazzle.