#and sometimes you just have fun and a good laugh

[dollishbabess]

different batboys going in a fitting/dressing room with you - from your dollish!🦢

Dick Grayson (Nightwing)

HC:

1. Playful and Flirty The moment you ask him to come into the fitting room, Dick's eyes light up with excitement. “Are we sure this is a good idea?” he teases with a grin, but he’s already slipping in behind you enjoying the view a little too much.

2. Compliments for Days Every time you try on something new, Dick showers you with praise. “You look incredible,” or “That color is perfect on you.” He’s genuinely mesmerized by everything you wear and isn’t shy about letting you know. (🐻‍❄️)

3. Hands-on Assistance When you struggle with a zipper or a clasp, Dick is more than happy to help. He’ll stand behind you, hands warm against your skin, and he takes his time, savoring the moment (and definitely not photographing it in his mind to remember later)

4. Playful Reactions He’ll jokingly suggest matching outfits or make exaggerated poses in the mirror next to you. It’s impossible not to laugh when he’s around, and you both end up having way more fun than you expected. (Posing QUEEN FINAL BOSS💜)

(I can’t think of an action sorry!)

Jason Todd (Red Hood)

HC:

1. Reluctant but Willing Jason acts like he’s not interested in shopping, but when you ask him to join you in the fitting room, he raises an eyebrow and follows without hesitation. “Only because you look good in everything,” he grumbles.

2. Blunt Honesty Jason doesn’t sugarcoat anything. If he thinks something looks amazing on you, he’ll tell you straight up. If it doesn’t suit you, he’ll say, “Nah, not your best look.” You appreciate his honesty, even if it makes you roll your eyes sometimes. (🐻‍❄️)

3. Playful Teasing He can’t help but tease you when you’re trying on different outfits. “Are you sure you’re not just showing off for me doll?” he’ll say with a smirk, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

4. Protective Presence Jason stands in the corner with a watchful eye, making sure no one bothers you or tries to peek in. He’s protective, even in such a mundane situation, and it’s oddly comforting and holds the curtains of the fitting room closed or stands next to the door. (atp please stay home)

ACTION!: As you try on a dress, Jason tilts his head, taking a moment to admire you before saying, “You should buy it. And wear it for me later.” The heat in his gaze is enough to make you blush, and he smirks, knowing exactly the effect he has on you.

Tim Drake (Red Robin)

HC:

1. Awkward but Sweet Tim is a bit flustered when you suggest he join you in the fitting room. “Uh, are you sure that’s allowed?” he stammers, but he eventually follows, cheeks tinted pink. (DAMN YOU ON EDGE OF THE BED YOU ABOUT TO FALL OFF)

2. Helpful but Shy He’s not sure where to look when you’re changing, but he does his best to be helpful. If you ask for his opinion, he’ll give you a thoughtful answer, genuinely considering how each outfit suits you. (🐻‍❄️)

3. Accidentally Cute When you’re struggling with an outfit, Tim fumbles to help, often resulting in the two of you tangling up together. He apologizes profusely, and you can’t help but find his awkwardness endearing.

4. Gives Genuine Compliments When you finally emerge in a new outfit, Tim’s eyes widen, and he stares for a moment before saying, “You look… amazing.” His voice is sincere, and it makes you feel like the most beautiful person in the world.

ACTION!: You’re trying on a particularly tricky dress, and Tim offers to help with the zipper. His fingers brush against your skin, and he freezes, face turning bright red. “S-Sorry,” he mumbles, but you can tell he’s not entirely unhappy about being so close to you.

Damian Wayne (older but no smut)

HC:

1. Reluctantly Joins Damian initially refuses to join you in the fitting room. “That’s highly inappropriate” even when you’re dating,But when you insist, he sighs and follows, muttering something about how he’s only doing it to protect you.

2. Gives Direct Feedback Damian doesn’t mince words. If he thinks something looks bad, he’ll tell you outright. “That’s hideous. You deserve better,” he’ll say, but he’ll also let you know when something suits you perfectly, even if he tries to act indifferent. (🐻‍❄️)

3. Respectful Distance He stands with his back turned whenever you’re changing, arms crossed and eyes closed. He respects your privacy but will peek when you’re not looking, just to make sure you’re okay.

4. Secretly Enjoys It Though he’d never admit it, Damian loves spending this time with you. He might even pick out a few outfits for you to try, claiming they’re “more appropriate” but secretly hoping you’ll wear something he chose.

ACTION!: You try on an outfit he picked, and when you ask for his opinion, Damian gives a satisfied nod. “It suits you,” he says simply, but you catch the hint of a smile tugging at his lips, revealing how pleased he is.

Bruce Wayne (Batman)

HC:

1. Charming and Sophisticated Bruce is the ultimate gentleman in the fitting room. When you invite him in, he gives you a knowing smile and steps inside, immediately making the small space feel more refined. (Loves it)

2. Knows Fashion Bruce has an eye for style and knows exactly what suits you. He offers suggestions and adjustments, making sure you look perfect in every outfit. He’ll even offer to buy you whatever you like, no matter the cost. (🐻‍❄️)

3. Effortlessly Romantic He’s the type to help you with a zipper or clasp without you even asking. His touch is gentle but firm, and he makes the simplest action feel intimate and loving”

4. Playful Yet Classy Bruce isn’t above making a few flirtatious comments. “I think you’d look better without it,” he’ll whisper in your ear, his tone teasing but filled with genuine affection. (gl walking tomorrow babes)

ACTION!: You try on a stunning gown, and Bruce’s eyes darken as he steps closer. “You look breathtaking,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing against your bare shoulder. The intensity of his gaze makes your heart skip a beat, and you realize that even in a fitting room, Bruce Wayne knows how to sweep you off your feet.

This is @dollishbabess work not yours, DO NOT copy or share on other platforms and if you do, I must get full credit Ty🦢

Watermark: (🐻‍❄️)

dividers from @cafekitsune !

[poisondionaea-art]

For anyone who wants to write fanfics or comics, ect about characters from Louisiana (Gambit, alastor, ect.) with accuracy to Louisiana and any French we speak here.

⚜️There's a lot of information after the phrases just an FYI ⚜️ I add a few things that I forgot about.

Common phrases used in Louisiana are:

Sha

(pronounced like it's spelled) this is a gender neutral term used for all ages, it's a friendly term used to address someone, most people use it for everyone. Inflections and sentences can change it to be more familial or romantic but it's often just used when addressing someone else. A lot of people use this term and say it for everyone they meet. This is used to replace cher and cheri, no one uses cher and cheri ever, have never heard a single person in Louisiana use those terms in my entire life.)(commonly said at the beginning or end of a sentence when addressing someone also typically accompanied my 'oh' or 'mais/man'

Examples :"oh sha, can you grab me that bottle right there." " How you been sha" "man sha, you seen what that man did over there" "oh mais sha, eat, you must be starving"

beaucoup

(boo•coo) very much, plenty/ plentiful, very, much, an exuberant/ large amount of something. Each of these can be used it just depends on the context, it is often used in 'thank you' or in jest or exasperation to emphasize that someone has a large amount of something. Sometimes people also use it in a jesting manner to make fun of how little someone has when they are trying to pretend like it's a lot. Extremely common to hear in New Orleans slightly less use in the rest of the state but is still used often. Commonly said as "beaucoup much" (younger generation born late 90s to present mainly use this one) or by itself

Examples: "did you see the amount of bread loafs that guy had in his buggie, he had beaucoup things of bread"

Merci also "merci beaucoup" or "beaucoup merci"

(mer•see) thank you, thank you very much, plenty thanks, very thanks. Still widely used across Louisiana rather commonly. Not everyone says it but it's just a personal preference, the people that do use it often still say thank you in English from time to time, they just also like using these terms as well. These phrases are also used for everyone it doesn't need to be reserved for special times/ people.

Example: " merci, have a nice day" kinda self explanatory

Adieu

(a•doo) kinda like goodbye I think I've heard a some people say it but it's definitely not the most common. They said it in place of good bye so I've just always assumed that's what it meant.

Petite

(pa•teet) small, little, tiny. This is already used in the English language show I don't really have to explain it much but it is commonly used among Cajuns and other Louisianaians to address a person affectionately especially when you add another word behind it. Sometimes people will say "mon petite ___" or "petite ____" sometimes shortcutted to "te" sometimes just say patite if it's an nickname the additional thing will most likely be in French and be something that the person likes or enjoys. I've rarely heard it used otherwise unless talking about clothing.

Examples: my grandmothers used to call me "Mon petite papillon" (my tiny butterfly) and "petite minou" (small kitty) because one grandmother's favorite animal was a butterfly and the other's is a cat.

Nanny and parrin

(nan•ee) (pah•ra) god mother and god father, most people call them by these terms so if you here someone from Louisiana talk about their nanny they don't mean someone their parents hired to look after them they mean their god mother.

Couyon

(coo•yaw) fool or idiot. Typically used in rather jest or scolding but typically when joking around. More common in Cajun areas than New Orleans. Sometimes if someone does something foolish especially after being told not to or is just being really clumsy or acting stupid/ rude then people will just call them couyon and walk away or laugh at them.

Example: " will you stop acting like a couyon? We need to get a move on."

Mais

(mah) but . See Sha for example of use mainly used with Sha .

Allons also "allons dan ser"

(ah•law) (ah•law don say) let's go and the phrase commonly used with it is "let's go dancing" more Cajun area use then New Orleans.

Beb also bébé

(pronounced like it's spelled) babe or baby also typically used in a neutral manner when talking to people, can be used for anyone but is most commonly used among family or close friends especially for people younger than you. Can also be used in a romantic connotation like babe or baby usually it is generally affectionate no matter how it's used. Can be used for strangers typically said by women but men do say it.

Example: "bébé can you go to the kitchen and get me a soda"

Just please please don't use cher or cheri no one says that around here it's almost always specific nicknames rather of things the person talking likes or the person listening likes. Please see petite for example.

Gambit is likely to say card related nicknames since he likes gambling, I know a few people who like playing cards who call people things like king and queen quite often as well as like 'my heart', 'little diamond'

In French those would be "reine" (Queen) or "dame" (lady/ queen) , "roi" (king) , "Mon cœur" (my heart/my core), " petite diamant" (little diamond)

For Alastor I'm not sure that there's anything radio related that people would use, my family has been in the radio business for a while and I've never heard any from any of my family members or my parents. He is likely to use deer related ones especially if they are puns.

Examples: " Mon biche" (feminine) or "Mon cerf" (masculine) (both mean my deer) , and "petite biche" (fem) or "petit cerf" (masc) (both mean little deer). He also likes music and that would be more like "Mon musique" (my music).

Any of these can just be said in English not every nick name or pet name is said in French.

Everyone is different so some people throw in more French some people less, nowadays people don't really speak fluent French unless they're old or rich.

Gambit was raised in a cult basically so he does get somewhat of a pass to speak more French if you want him to but it's not super common in New Orleans.

Alastor would have spoken French being from 1920s but being a radio host he probably would have also learned English and went through vocal training to get rid of his accent. ( My family has been in the Louisiana radio business for decades and they all had to train to get rid of their Cajun accents when they started working for the radio stations) Also Alastor is creole not Cajun I will explain the difference more towards the end.

If you want to add the characters speaking French you can just use Parisian French (French spoken in France) no one is gonna be upset if you do there are also no translators on the internet that I know of that have Cajun or Creole (Canadian is also acceptable if your Canadian or know Canadian)

There are a lot of different accents in Louisiana not just Cajun (called flat talk by locals most of the time) .

Some people speak with southern accents, some have Cajun but most talk like stereotypical Americans or have an accent that comes along with speaking AAVE.

Creole accents are like French and Jamaican accents combined it's pretty rare for people to have the accent nowadays though and for some people it can be slightly different

You don't have to write out accents if you don't want to.

Which leads to my next point most people in Louisiana speak in AAVE (African-American Vernacular English) especially closer to and in New Orleans.

The farther away from the 1930s-1940s the character(s) are the less French they will naturally speak and put into everyday encounters. Most people in present day Louisiana especially in areas like New Orleans don't speak French and only add in what few words they do know or are still within common use in day to day conversations.

After this point it is random facts about Louisiana ⬇️

Why did people stop speaking French in Louisiana after this specific period of time?

Great question, the answer is that there had been a law put in place at the time, that declared that everyone had to learn English as it was assigned as the official language of the United States. From what I've been told by my grandparents the law makers cited that they wanted Louisiana to be more welcoming to tourists and the large incoming crowd of refugees and migrants as the reason for the law being inacted.

My grandparents stated that it was probably so that the refugee and migrant crowds wouldn't isolate themselves to only people who spoke their languages. In order to keep unsavory groups from forming (if there were any n@zis among the German crowd, other axis power supporters among the Italians or Japan's crowds as well) they forced everyone to learn English.

I don't actually know what this law was but my grandparents have talked about it since I was little. They were forced to learn English when they hit elementary school and my great grandparents were forced to learn English or possibly lose their jobs, in some cases they were threatened with arrest or their children getting taken away.

This created fear that caused parents to decide to stop teaching their kids French. When my parents were born my grandparents barely taught them any French and mainly taught them English. Rarely anyone in my parents generation could speak or understand full French.

Some parents didn't want to teach their children French only for them to never be able to speak it outside the house.

I also have a feeling that this law was also partially put in place because of Quebec, Canada as they fought for their right to keep speaking French and threatened to become their own country if forced to conform to English like the rest of Canada. So the U.S. was probably trying to stop that from happening with Louisiana.

Also New Orleans has been regularly speaking English since before the rest of Louisiana was mandated to, because it is a port and always has been. It's also been a high tourism area for quite a while as well.

What is the difference between Cajun and Creole ?

Creole means French or Spanish settlers that came directly from the "motherland" (France or Spain) originally this term was more or less used to establish elite status as most of these people were from rich families and paid a lot of money to secure their position in the new colonies belonging to France the term was extended to the Spanish when they had control over Louisiana.

This term eventually came to blanket over slaves and their descendents as well that were under the control of these people, the current Creole culture was mainly shaped by these families as well as the families of Haitian slaves and their descendents that were also brought into Louisiana to serve the Creole people.

This is where voodoo and hoodoo become a part of creole culture because the enslaved persons brought their culture and religion with them from Africa to Haiti and then to Louisiana when they were forced to change location again.

Creole people lived mainly in New Orleans and the surrounding area, most of them owned farmland slightly farther out from the city but lived in the city center while things were tended to by enslaved persons and a person or persons designated to watch over their daily activities

Creoles didn't just enslave Africans they also enslaved impoverished European using manipulation tactics, most of these Europeans became freed people before African Americans and at some point we're given their own slaves which kept them from revolting surprisingly but in surprisingly. Creoles enslaved Cajuns when they first got to Louisiana by order of the king and then freed them when they realized they knew how to farm but gave them their own enslaved persons.

Most Creoles now are African Americans and lead an intricate culture different from Cajun culture that is mainly a mix of French and various African cultures with a little bit of Spanish culture as well.

Creole food and Cajun food aren't too different but some Cajun food has okra bases as to where creole dishes have a tomato base for most dishes as it was an over abundant resource of the New Orleans area.

Cajun people are from a French group of settlers that were originally supposed to create their own nation in Nova Scotia, Canada. They were a bunch of farmers sent there for the purpose of creating an agricultural specific nation using Canadian soil and plants.

Their county was called Acadia and they were called the Acadian people, they technically were not ruled by the king of France and were their own nation, this in fact caused problems especially because they were a young nation and were composed of farmers with no military or combat training and little to no weapons.

With no support from the king or way to form their own military, England forced them to pledge allegiance to rather the king of England or the king of France so they knew where Acadia stood, Acadia asked for help from France, France refused because they were their own nation and they didn't want to pledge allegiance to the king of England

So in true English fashion they burned the nation of Acadia to the ground and forced the Acadian people to leave, the Acadians went to Louisiana in hopes that they would help, the Creoles enslaved them and stuck them where they believed the land was uninhabitable and they would perish because of the order of the king of France

The Acadians being farmers were able to pick up on how to properly farm the land after being shown by natives (my tribe yay) and when the Creoles checked on them and found them alive the king of France made them free people's and gave them land from Acadiana, their new area of living in Louisiana to the what is now the lafourche parish area.

They were given enslaved persons and were put in charge of helping make Louisiana's exports a larger market. Cajun culture and dishes come from a mixture of Acadian, native American and African culture put together with the resources of the area, these dishes spread to the Creoles and were changed to match the resources of the New Orleans area and imported goods.

Cajuns are called Cajuns because the English misheard the name Acadian and so everyone started calling them Cajuns.

Cajun and Creole today doesn't nearly have as many connotations as the past, it mainly just means your family is from this Acadiana area or from New Orleans and you're a descendent of one of these groups

Do Cajuns and Creoles have beef with each other?

Nope, any beefing is mainly joking, and is specifically about the differences in the same dishes between the two cultures.

Does it matter if someone is Cajun or Creole?

Once again nope, Louisiana is a big mixing pot of cultures so no one really cares, everyone loves celebrating the different cultures in Louisiana especially of the newer groups that have joined over the decades through immigration.

I only specified with Alastor because I've seen people call him Cajun when vivzy has stated multiple times that he's Creole.

Enough about Cajuns here's some info on Mardi Gras:

Mardi Gras is one day at the end of the carnival season.

It's on a different day each year because it is a Catholic holiday and goes by the Catholic calendar which changes every year.

Mardi Gras means "fat Tuesday" which is the Catholic holiday the day before ash Wednesday which is a day of fasting and sobriety.

You don't have to be Catholic to celebrate.

Even though it's a Catholic holiday all of the parades are based on Greek and Egyptian mythology

The carnival season is different every year and lasts between 1-2 months before Mardi Gras day, Brazil has a similar celebration at the same time called carnival as well for the same reason.

The carnival season is typically in January- February or March.

All bars close at midnight on Mardi Gras day once it hits ash Wednesday and very few of them are open on ash Wednesday later in the day.

There are family friendly Mardi Gras parades which are most of them and specific parades for adults, typically at night, please don't flash your boobs that's illegal and makes people uncomfortable, the adult parades mean that they might give out alcohol and beads or other float throws that will contain adult symbols like marijuana or nudity. Some of these they throw things like purses and shoes and that's why it's classified as adult.

Anyone can join the parade even people not from New Orleans you just have to pay a fee for whichever parade you want to be in to secure a spot on a float and buy the beads and stuff that you throw, some parade you have to have a specific amount of items, to be allowed on the float

Some people go to other parades to get beads and other stuff for them to throw at their own parades (my family does this with the radio station vans lol)

People on floats throw beads, plushies, party favors, hand clappers, cups, dablooms , recorders and other plastic instruments, bouncy balls, other types of balls, inflatables, candy, chips , ramen, hair clips, plastic swords and plastic tomahawks

Most of the balls for specific parades are closed events for people on the committee but there are masquerade and non masquerade balls and parties held across the city throughout the carnival season, there is even one specifically for Neuro divergent people.

There is a kink parade, that is called "southern decadence" it is a gay pride parade that focuses on sex, kinks, drag burlesque and finding people to hook up with this happens typically around august. If you tell people your going to a gay pride parade they will side eye you because they assume it's this one and not the family friendly ones that happen in June.

The only other parades outside of carnival season and pride are a Christmas parade (krampus), a Halloween parade and st Patrick's Day parade (Irish and Italian American heritage parade)

A king cake is basically a cinnamon roll log that doesn't get cut into individual cinnamon rolls and gets formed into a ring and baked then has vanilla icing with colored sugar on top. There is a baby inside but if you pre order it you can ask for the baby to be put on the side or not included at all. The baby means you buy the next king cake and you will have luck.

It's encouraged to wear costumes to parades but you don't have to, it does get you more beads.

Have a bag or something to put your beads in if you wear them throughout the parade it will be painful and it will get you less stuff thrown at you.

Other random things about Louisiana I think are important:

It's warm throughout the year because this is a sub tropical area, in the summer it is constantly between 89°-115° please don't put characters in long sleeves or tons of layers in the summer.

It rains a lot like 50% of the year it rains

Not every part of Louisiana is swamp

There is no deep woods of massive swamps in the middle of the city of New Orleans, there are a few in the surrounding area but those are an hour -hour and a half out of your way by car at minimum

Hoodoo is magic , voodoo is a religion they are connected but not the same thing not everyone that practices voodoo practices hoodoo and vice versa. PLEASE DON'T MESS WITH THESE RELIGIOUS OR MAGICAL ARTIFACTS WITHOUT SOME WORKING KNOWLEDGE OF IT OR CONSENT/ PERMISSIONS, PLEASE FOLLOW THE RULES IN THE SHOPS.

There are also many practicing pagans and wiccans in New Orleans same rules apply.

Yes there are second lines (marching bands for parties) constantly going through the city but most of them are for funerals don't join them unless you're told you can.

Most people from Louisiana have pretty bad seasonal allergies

There is way more to the city of New Orleans then the French quarter, the French quarter is only like 10 streets

We have a ferry that goes from Algiers (west bank New Orleans) to New Orleans proper (east bank, actually main part to the city) it lets out at the aquarium. There is another one that goes from Algiers to Chalmette (part of the greater New Orleans area)

The greater New Orleans area is the area around New Orleans where most of the people that work and hangout in New Orleans actually live, this includes Jefferson parish and st. Bernard parish. There is still a high population of people who live in the city itself.

Baton Rouge is the capital of Louisiana it is about an hour and a half west of New Orleans by car

People go to Grand Isle, Louisiana or to Biloxi, Mississippi to go to the beach

There is a water park outside of Baton Rouge called blue bayou that's really popular the other water park in the area is Jellystone but most people call it yogi bear because it's a yogi bear theme park

Fairs happen in Louisiana between May - June and then again in September - October

Around Christmas most parks have Christmas lights displays that you can drive or walk through or Christmas villages

People actually play jazz music on street corners in New Orleans, it's not every street corner and most of them are concentrated to being closer to the French quarter

Most bars have a mixture of live music and a dj more upscale places with stick to jazz but most other places have rock, hip hop, r&b, rap and bounce, closer to Lafayette they play zydeco more often then jazz

Louisiana is the state with the second highest gambling rate behind Nevada, there are multiple casinos in Louisiana and even private gambling clubs that you have to know someone to get into

Street cars are like busses on set rails, basically an above ground subway system. You have to pay a fee to ride and can find out the various paths that these take through the RTA (New Orleans public transportation) system or station

You can get electrocuted if you stand on the street car rails if the street car is close by and not stopped, if you see one coming towards you get off of the rails so you don't get hit it takes a little while to stop the car.

Hurricane season begins in May and ends at the beginning of November

People in New Orleans keep pet chickens and some of them just let them roam the neighborhood. So it's not uncommon to see a chicken walking around in a residential neighborhood

Some people in Louisiana have houses raised on stilts because of flooding, their are stairs to get to the house (I've had tourists ask me about this before that's why I'm mentioning it)

Yes we can tell when you're a tourist it's pretty obvious (typically it's because they try to hard to fit in or they wear beads outside of Mardi Gras and get drunk at 12 pm)

New Orleans is the largest city in Louisiana

You will find many different cultures in Louisiana not just Cajuns and Creoles because of immigration, these cultures are all very much celebrated in Louisiana

The most common non English languages spoken in New Orleans are Spanish, Vietnamese and Arabic as currently.

Here's some food from Louisiana:

A quarter of New Orleans (not the French quarter) smells like coffee because of the community coffee plant and during certain times of the year with strong winds the whole city smells like coffee

We eat red beans and rice on Monday's to honor deceased enslaved persons as they would typically eat red beans and rice once a week because they were only allowed to eat protein once a week. Not everyone knows that, I learned about this from Whitney plantation they might have information about it on their website. Not everyone eats red beans and rice every Monday or only on Monday's that's just tradition.

For creole version remember to add tomatoes

Seasoning blend is onions, red bell pepper, celery, parsley, and garlic

Jambalaya:

A dish where you cook down meat and seasoning blend and seasonings, typically the meat is chicken and sausage together then add rice and water into the pot and cook until rice is soft.

Sometimes people add cubed pork or beef, peeled shrimp, peeled crawfish, or other left over meats they have on hand.

Gumbo

A thinned brown stew with seasoning blend, at least chicken and sausage and seasonings, served over rice with fíle (a ground sassafras seasoning)

Other meats included peeled shrimp, peeled crawfish , deshelled or soft shell crab, and oysters

Cajuns sometimes add smothered okra Creoles typically add stewed / smothered tomatoes, I've seen some people add both it's up to preferences and family recipes.

Often served with potato salad

Étouffée

Peeled shrimp or peeled crawfish, seasoning and seasoning blend served in a cream shellfish flavored gravy served over rice

Sauce Piquante

Chicken, shrimp or catfish stewed in a mixture of seasoning blend, seasoning, Rotel , crushed tomatoes, diced tomatoes and tomato sauce, served over rice

One of few dishes that have no changes between Cajun and Creole recipes

Boudin

Rice dressing in a sausage casing, typically steamed or smoked

Cracklins

Extra crispy fried pork skins with some meat still attached covered in spices

Po-boy

Warm deli meats or fried seafood, sometimes in gravy on French bread (not baguettes) with mayo, lettuce and tomatoes

Sometimes has cheese, pickles or mustard typically left to customer preference on this one

Beignet

Square fried donuts covered in powdered sugar

Typically eaten with coffee, tea, hot chocolate or chocolate milk

King cakes

Cinnamon roll log made into a ring formation with vanilla icing and colored sugar on top, has a baby inside that means you buy the next king cake if you get it and good luck

Can have different fillings

Seasonal to January through March

Natchitoches meat pie

Pie dough filled with ground beef or crawfish baked into a hand held pie.

Sorry that this is so much information I hope this is helpful for people who want to write about characters from Louisiana.

Hope this helps @lifes-line sorry it's so long.

[audliminal]

It's just a game, right? Pt 2

pt 1

"It's like. Crazy, y'know?" Bernard's voice echoes in Tim's ears as he fiddles with his mask. "Like, when they started posting, I was kinda meh about it? I mean the first few videos they posted were just like. Basic shitty, scrambled audio, and the first clues were just like, real simple. Basic word replacement stuff; mostly vigenères, right? But now it's- they're using everything! The current drop is. It's layers, man. And I think it's intentional."

"Isn't it supposed to be intentional? I thought that was like, the whole point of an ARG."

"No I mean, like yeah obviously the clues are intentional, but like. The way the difficulty curve is just increasing. When this started it was so easy, but I don't think it was because they like, didn't know what they were doing or anything. Which, cool yeah that makes sense, you want people to buy in before it gets super hard or whatever, but there are, like all these threads that never went anywhere. And everybody kind of wrote them off as red herrings because they didn't seem to fit into the narrative that we had so far, but I can't stop thinking about them, you know?"

"I mean, they could still be red herrings, couldn't they?"

"Well, technically, yeah, but like. Why? It's one thing to have a dead end that maybe calls back to a previous clue or, like, reaffirms some detail from before but having something completely unconnected seems like a weird choice. Especially when the creator keeps telling us to dig deeper."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Tim asks with a laugh.

"No that's the thing!" Bernard's voice goes intense, and Tim momentarily stops putting his mask back together. "Literally every fucking drop those exact words are hidden somewhere in the mess of encryptions, and as things get more complicated, it's showing up more not less. And that together with all the fucking loose details that don't seem to fit in anywhere? I'm literally on the verge of going back to the beginning of the whole thing and solving it from scratch, bc I think we're missing a lot." Tim kind of forgets, sometimes, how similar he and Bernard are, but the in his boyfriend's voice is one he's intimately familiar with. That combination of obsession and frustration - and obviously it's not really serious because like, it's an internet game, but it doesn't matter what the stakes are, being stuck on a puzzle fucking sucks, and he can't exactly patrol what with his broken ankle, so maybe a fun, no-stakes challenge would be good for him.

"We were planning on hanging out on Friday, so what if you walked me through it from the start, and maybe together we can come up with some answers?"

"Seriously? Dude that would be so awesome! I will teach you everything I know about code breaking!"

"I mean, I do know some things, you know. You think I didn't have a spy phase as a teenager?" Tim smiles at Bernard's responding laughter. It'll be nice, he thinks, to mess with a puzzle where nobody's life is at stake.

[goldsbitch]

Not on the menu

Making out in public is not something to be shameful, right?

light smut, minors DNI, angst

note: this is my first Franco fic. this man came, served and what are we suppose to do?!

When it feels this good, it's worth breaking few rules.

You and Franco. Very well protected love affair. A fling. Just two young people who somehow end up in each other's beds whenever the opportunity arises.

Working in F2 as one of the production assistants was more exciting than one might think. Everyone would always praise F1, the size of the teams, the budgets, the glam surrounding it. F2 was different, more loose and less on the spotlight. Full of professionals, who just like drivers, worked their asses off just for a chance to progress into F1. But you were just so young, just starting and unlike with the drivers, you had no rush, plenty of time for that in the next years. It was all about learning, getting to know people and also, occasionally, having some good fun. It's hard to keep young people on a leash. Lot of travel involved, hotel rooms and many people mingling around, leads to just one thing. It wasn't special or albeit scandalous to fool around with a fellow crew member, in fact many marriages started like that, no matter the rank or department. Life on the road has its habits.

So when you first ended up on a dance floor with the ever-so-charming Franco at one of the opening events for F2, it was not such a surprise that you ended at his hotel room. Way less wondering eyes and almost no glam was at these evenings, the exact opposite of F1.

By some miracle, you managed to keep it a secret, apart from few closest friends, who served as an excuse for you two to actually hang out together. These few trusted souls witnessed their fair share of tipsy make outs and laughed collectively at your hickeys, which turned out to be his speciality. You never texted, never addressed your fling when sober. Deep down you knew you were curious to see how he was as a serious partner. But he never gave off that kind of a vibe. So you protected yourself, remained cool and decided that this was the peak your relation would ever be, and that was ok enough.

"So what about you and Franco?" a friend of you both asked you, once again. You hated when she did that. In her mind, it would be a great idea to have two of her friends together. But the truth was, she was way closer with him than you were. Nothing wrong with that, but it only reminded you of how shallow your interaction were. In order to keep you dignity while fooling around with a player, you pretended to be one as well. "You know how these things are, it's just physical. I don't think he's the kind of person I'd like to date." False. You knew that, but..! You stayed on the ground, he was just a bit out of your league. Simple as that. Soon enough he was gonna catch the eye of some model and you'll be old news. The whole thing would be way worse if anyone knew that you would actually be open to at least try and date him. It was hard to stop the daydreaming sometimes. "Yeah, that makes sense," was the only thing your friend, disappointed by your response, answered. You only wondered if she had conversations like this with him as well about you.

Life was good that one evening in August. At the time, you had no idea it will the last evening of that era. It was one of the typical dinners the wealthier members of the teams organized, a nice chill place to wind down after stressful days. You were sat few places from Franco, who was charming as ever. Raining smiles on everyone and stealing glances with you.

A text notification - Bathroom?

You gulped, locked eyes with him and gave a small nod. His smile was probably crafted specifically for you, somewhere in the depths of hell. Impossible to resist.

He got up and you followed a minute later, giving a knowing look to your mutual friend. She understood and happily covered for you in case someone else caught on.

It wasn't exactly the right thing to do, lock yourself in a room dedicated for nursing mothers. But better than blocking a bathroom.

"Aren't you a little old to be in this room?" you asked when you joined him and secured the door behind you. He was leaning over a counter, fingers tapping on the top. "I can't help it, I am hungry," Franco responded and gestured you to come closer to him. With a challenging look, you took few steps towards him. "This is a restaurant, you're at the right place."

"The things I want are not on the menu." He was done playing sneaking around and crashed his lips onto yours, as if to prove his hunger. He was just too good with his tongue. Taking you, like his little victim, making you forget the outside world still existed. His hand went to grab your neck, behind your ear, because by then he had figured out that keeping you in check was the thing that made your knees weak. His lips were locked with yours, in heated frenzy, not allowing any breath to be wasted. You knew how to play the game as well, and with a soft bite into his lower lip, drawing a gasp from him, you pulled away slightly, not allowing him to take full control. "Oh," he said, trying to steal another kiss from you while you pulled away more with satisfied smile. "Is this how it is now?" he continued, tone laced with intrigue and challenge. Your tongue reached to lick his lips once again. His hand suddenly lessened the pull towards him. "Oh, hermosa," he whispered, "two can play this game." Butterflies occupied your stomach. He stepped back and to your questioning look responded with another bloody wink. And then, then he grabbed you by the hips and lifted you up in the air and sat on the counter. You gasped, only amusing him more. Lost for words, you only raised your eyebrows. "Better," he said and with audacity only young boys have lifted your shift up. Without much of a thought you put your arms up and helped him get you slightly more naked. His eyes were shamelessly focus on your chest. "Almost there," he said and gestured towards your bra. "Go on. Take this horrible thing off." You chuckled, because as charming and suave he was, taking a bra off was a moment where he failed each time. Desire fueled you into making this quick. Now that you were sat, his eyes were at a similar lever to your boobs and there was something hot about his hungry look, watching you undress even more. Once you were finally fully bare, he observed you and the locked eyes with you once again.

"Pretty," was the only thing that he said before putting his lips on your left nipple for a gentle peck and then on the right one, which received a light bite. He decided to stay focused on that one, few kisses here and there and began to suck on it while his hand pinched the left one. Arrows of pleasure flew into your lower belly. He knew your weakness, he must have because this was sending you into other dimensions. Anything that feels this ecstatic would make anyone crumble. Whatever he did seemed to always work on you. He wasted no time with gentle touches. Not enough time for that. After nearly sending you over the edge with his lips dancing around and sucking on your nipple, moved a bit upwards and went for his signature move - marking your breasts with hickeys so purple it would take a week to heal. You bend your head backwards, trying to contain any loud noises your body wanted you to make in reaction to his actions. Another twirl around your sensitive nipple, bite into your skin and a hard squeeze. You did not want him to stop, too deep in it to think straight. But that must have been his plan from the beginning, because he put you on edge and then back away. You almost let a soft "No..." escape your mouth. With a puzzled look you slowly came down and remembered you were still in public. Heavy breaths and you gulped your way back to normal. He stepped back a bit and observed his mark on you. With an approving nod, he had the audacity to fix his boner up so that it was not so obvious. "Looking forward to seeing you later?" he asked with a tone that indicated the answer was obvious. You just nodded and reached for your bra, hoping his hickey was low enough it would not be visible. But, he had never made that kind of a mistake. You hopped down and gave him one more kiss, a slow and gentle this time, before he parted back to the dinner table. You joined in a minute, after fixing yourself up and trying to make your cheeks less red. Thankfully, there was only one another amused person when you came back to the table. Your friend raised her brows at you and drank her wine as if nothing ever happened.

Everything shower, hair on point, favorite perfume - you were all set and ready for how the evening would inevitably progress. This time you even made sure to clean your room. You got too comfortable with your expectations. Watching his every move, you noticed immediately when his expression changed from a casual smile to focused frown when reading a text on his phone. Was it something serious? Would he confide in later, sometimes it happened by accident. Secrets shared among tangled sheets. He got up and sent you a cheeky wink. You had to bite your cheek in order to stop the smile your body wanted to respond with, a small bruise burning inside your bra.

It took you fifteen minutes to realize he was not coming back from his phone call. You had his number, you could easily text him. But you didn't. And just like that, he was off to F1.

[eeb-rody]

Tfone spoilers

Okay but imagine IMAGINE you're d-16 and your (boyfriend) best friend routinely drags you both into extreme danger even when you explicitly state you want no part in it (to prove a point? For fun? Both?? It's unclear) and on one of these occasions you find out that the authority figure you trusted most mutilated you (and everyone you love) at birth in an effort to create a servile underclass and secure power. Oh and you now have guns for hands sometimes.

As soon as you express anger at this intense betrayal, the One Guy who's supposed to be on your side (the guy responsible for this whole excursion by the way) starts looking at you like you're crazy. It's fine. Not like you've given this guy leeway for every insane stunt he's pulled for the last however long. Whatever.

You're captured by some guys playing commando in a rotting fortress of some kind, they won't help you but they seem to respect strength, lucky for you your body was recently turned into a weapon. You beat the shit out of the guy in charge (he's into it???) because you're angry and he's an asshole and maybe a display of strength will get these freaks to respect you enough to hear you out. Whatever your friend was thinking about you earlier just solidified.

You get kidnapped by a big spider.

Next you're handcuffed On Your Knees in front of the worst guy on the planet. He mocks you, he tortures you, he admits to all of his crimes and laughs in your face about it. You've gotta fucking kill this guy.

The building you're in gets hit by a flying train.

Finally FINALLY you've got this shithead on the run, everyone knows what he did, they probably want him dead just as bad as you do. He's cowering, he's begging, but earlier he was carving graffiti into your chest in front of a live audience so you're not feeling particularly receptive.

And then your impulsive shithead Best Friend shows up and starts talking about building a better world and how killing this evil motherfucker sets a bad precedent. You have thus far shown your friend infinite patience even in the face of severe consequences, his actions have resulted in you being hurt and changed and hurt again and now he wants to talk about the merits of reigning yourself in???

Nuh uh, you're killing this guy, your friend will be mad at you for a while but hopefully he'll understand that you ARE making the world better by killing a dictator who stunts the growth of his own people in order to make slaves of them.

Your best friend in the world sacrifices his life to save this evil piece of shit.

That's what was most important to him in the end. You realize that apparently being morally pure was his priority, nevermind you, nevermind the crimes done against your people, nevermind his "better world". You're fucking done. If he can't just trust you on this after everything he put you through- You let him fall into a big hole.

Only that's not the end of it. After you tear the "king" in half and start blasting at his tacky art deco statues, your friend rises from the pit he just fell into. He's Jesus now I guess and he uses his god powers to kick the shit out of you. He compares you to the man who mutilated you both as children and betrayed your people. Apparently God agrees with him.

My point is, this movie is just Megatron's terrible horrible no good very bad day and I think killing sentinel prime was good and made sense to do.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I feel like Killer often had to act dumber than Nightmare around him. I just know that Nightmare is the kind of guy who wouldn't take kindly to not being the smartest person in the room at any given time. It mostly stems from his own childhood traumas (I'm sure that the fact that nothing he ever did was good enough to make him deserving of not getting abused stuck with him post corruption), but to me he's a walking inferiority complex.

And the thing is that Nightmare isn't stupid. He's a very studious person and he probably retains a lot of the stuff he reads about. But Killer is undoubtedly more observant and logical than he is. I feel like he probably picks up on stuff much quicker (even though he also probably forgets a lot of it just as quickly because of his memory issues).

And, well, I saw a couple of comics of them playing chess and Killer winning every time. And I do think that, realistically, if he played at full capacity every time, he would win against Nightmare. Chess is a game that rewards his kind of smarts so much more than Nightmare's.

But I also think he'd know not to win most of the time (unless his purpose is to piss off Nightmare that day). But, here's the kicker. I think it would be just as humiliating for Nightmare if Killer dominated the entire game only to make some very obviously porpuseful fumbles at the end. Of course, Nightmare could call him out on it, but then he'd need to admit that he would have lost had Killer not thrown the game. And he's not gonna fucking do that. Not when they both already know and Killer is staring unblinkingly at him, challenging him to say something, to admit defeat.

No, he's gonna take that fake victory and he's gonna massage his bruised ego with it. Denial is always a powerful shield.

Yeah absolutely. Killer knows how to stroke people’s egos and notice their insecurities, he will use both against someone for his own benefit. He knows he needs to walk a fine line with people like Nightmare and Chara—those that tend to have huge egos, that are also very fragile. Those whose first instincts are to lash out, and in Chara’s case, throw violent tantrums.

It’s like managing the moods of very explosive, highly dangerous bombs. It’s just that sometimes Killer can’t resist playing a little careless, in a calculated way. He is not above putting himself in huge danger and playing with his life just to gain momentarily pleasure in pissing them off, or to provoke them into hurting him just to alleviate his soul crushing apathy and boredom in controlled bursts.

Like micro-dosing on a drug that is pain, or simply because he knows (or thinks) it is inevitable that they will hurt him today, so he will provoke them earlier and take away their satisfaction in hurting him by taking away their control and bruising their egos.

Let Chara think he loves them. Let Nightmare think he’s stupid and blindly loyal. Those are the things he knows to maintain control over them. On the flip side, a way to keep Killer under control (particularly Stage 2), is to let him think he has more control than he actually does.

Imagine how powerless Nightmare could make him feel if he were to say, find a way to destroy any pleasure and satisfaction Killer gets out of pain. If he takes away the framing of torture, punishment, and pain as “fun” and “playing” in Killer’s mind.

I wouldn’t be suprised if Killer finds a sense of pride in his ability to not only endure but enjoy vast amounts of suffering—especially if he ever got some form of validation or approval for it. He views it as him still having power and control even as he is being “dominated”—because he can say that he enjoys it and therefore it means nothing and has no genuine impact on him beyond the satisfaction and pleasure.

People being unnerved and annoyed when you laugh in their face after they’ve broken your bones just means that Killer still has control over their emotions.

Yet another way he is views himself as sort of, above others. Not in the self loving ego stroking way, but still in a superior, ‘I’m above you, so don’t try me’ way. He’d likely look down on anyone who runs from or hates pain— or anyone who obviously lets it show. Viewing them as inferior and weak.

If Nightmare can take that away, then pain is just pain. Potentially sending Stage 2 deeper into his apathetic, nihilistic, fatalistic worldview—“just get it over with if you aren’t going to make it fun.”

Which is probably the reason why physical punishment wouldn’t work on Stage 2 at all—not until you can take away his sense of control in these situations—psychological stuff like isolation and sensory deprivation certainly would.

I feel like another way would be to greyrock him whenever he tries to provoke someone into violence and hurting him—not giving him the reaction he expects and craves. Which would either make him quickly lose interest, or motivate him to keep escalating until he gets what he wants.

Killer has definitely greyrocked Chara and Nightmare before as well— refusing to give them any type of satisfaction or control over him by not giving any response or reaction they want from him. And sometimes giving the exact opposite of a reaction or response that they want.

All in all, I can definitely see Killer underplaying himself and his own abilities to satisfy others egos and play into expectations if it benefits him or avoids inconvenience. And he’d definitely use their egos to lure them into little mind games and traps—like the one you described.

{ @stellocchia }

[stabbyfoxandrew]

hi! can I have some angel Neil this week?

—💖💖

WIP Wednesday (9/18) | Guardian Angel Neil AU (Part 236)

"No. I was just making sure," Andrew says, aiming for nonchalance. Neil doesn't look particularly convinced and now Andrew worries he's accidentally granted himself an angelic audience for tomorrow's session. Damn. Andrew licks his lips. Time to lie. "I am going to talk to her about the nightmare I had the other night. I wanted to be sure you wouldn't listen."

Neil's eyes widen minutely, then he nods. "Good. You should talk to her about it," he says, taking Andrew by surprise.

"I thought you didn't believe in therapy."

"I don't. But you do. And I could feel how much that dream affected you, Andrew. It feel like you needed me, it felt like I needed to wake you. But then you woke yourself up and came up here and tore your brother a new one." Neil says, making Andrew cringe internally. He really hadn't meant to go berserk that morning, but Aaron's a fucking idiot. (And no matter what Neil says, they're twins. They're the same.)

Neil moves to sit back up and stretches his arms over his head. "All I'm saying is it must've been bad."

"It was."

"So, if you can't talk to me about it you should talk to her. Maybe she's got the magic cure for recurring dreams."

"Recurring." Andrew repeats. 

“Isn’t it? I’ve felt you have nightmares before.” Neil says. Andrew isn’t sure. He's never thought about it much. He's never tried to label the horrible things his brain makes him relive when he goes night-night. But he supposes Neil could be right. Is it recurring when the places and faces and sheets are sometimes different? Does he actually need to talk to Bee about this? (Probably.)

"I used to have a recurring nightmare when I was a little kid. It was about a clown," Neil offers randomly.

"What?"

"Yeah. It would come into my bedroom and just stand there in the doorway, staring at me with a bloody knife in its hand. Sometimes it would laugh, but usually it was deathly quiet," Neil says, trying to suppress a shudder. He fails and shivers so violently Andrew can feel it. A moment later, Neil makes a face as if something's occurred to him. "Come to think of it that might've just been my father playing a prank on me."

The easy way Neil says it has Andrew choking on a badly-timed laugh. He coughs at Neil's look. "How fucked up of him."

"Oh yeah, he was real fun like that. It's not the worst thing he ever did though," Neil says with a shrug. Andrew looks at Neil for a moment, then glances down to where the hem of his jeans has rolled up, revealing a thick scar around Neil's ankle. It matches the ones Andrew's seen on his wrists. He very nearly asks about it, but forces the question off his tongue because he swore he'd never ask.

Instead he sighs and accidentally lets, "Honk honk," slip past his filter.

Neil gives him a quizzical look. "What was that? Are you a goose now?"

"No. Don't clowns honk?"

"I... My father didn't."

"Never mind then."  Andrew says, looking to the side. They're quiet for a moment, then Neil is sputtering laughter. 

"Honk honk." He says, devolving into a fit of giggles. Andrew can only watch, awe-struck and mesmerized at the sound. When Neil covers his face with his hand and starts to settle down, Andrew says it again and laughs with him until he can't breathe.

[ravers8fantasy]

Punch out locker room heacanons: minor circuit mishaps

Got a wee bit bored #ijbol I think the minor circuit locker room conditions would be ABYSMAL im talking flickering lights and easy - to - break - everything

The minor circuit locker room is a STATE

The moment disco kid saw he it he swore tears fell from his eyes

Joe always swears someone steals his stuff and kicks off, usually its king hippo who points out he was looking in the wrong locker the whole time

Kaiser is the dedicated janitor since the actual janitor seemingly quit ages ago

Disco tried to help but instead mixed the wrong chemicals together and made fucking mustard gas

King hippo has accidentally crushed almost everyones stuff (mac included, his water bottle exploded because of Hippo's foot)

Joe once found a spider the size of his palm and screamed so loudly that even Disco could hear it through his headphones

They all look out for eachother, Disco plays music in the background whilst everyone trains, Kaiser gives tips on how to move more efficiently in the ring, Joe helps hype everyone up and well Hippo, hippo makes sure everyone is fed after training of course

Disco listens to music with his head phones a bit too loudly... Kaiser has to remind him to turn it down unless he wants to end up partially deaf (kaiser is partially deaf)

When little Mac first joined, Joe saved him the least beaten up locker. It was missing a door and had a punch shaped dent which suspiciously aligned perfectly with kaiser's fist...

King hippo has a locker dedicated to storing food... No. He is NOT sharing said food unless he is in a good mood

When Mac is alone he steals food from Hippo's food locker, no one has caught him yet

One time, kaisers back cracked mid push up and it was so bad Disco and Joe thought he broke something

Mac has caught Disco singing in the showers and yes, Mac did record it. He threatens to show it to everyone whenever Disco tries to annoy him

One time Joe tripped over a misplaced tile on the floor and fell straight into a sink which ended up breaking off the wall and landed on his hand thus breaking it

Now Disco jokes that the sink was glass joe's 100th loss

A similar thing happened with kaiser but instead he sat on a bench and fucking broke it in half. Lets just say Disco found that the funniest thing ever

Disco doesnt have little "hehe" giggle oh nah Disco's laugh would have a beginning middle and end, he would charge up and unleash it, its not a laugh its a hearty roar.

Kaiser sneezes so loudly, sometimes Joe cant tell wether he is yelling something or actually sneezing.

Since king hippo can only roar, Mac learnt sign language to communicate with him, however the only thing he ever told Mac was that kaiser secretly isnt 42 he is 62 which Mac actually thought was true

"kaiser is it true your 62? I mean if you are then, thats impressive you look great for 62!"

"w-was?...."

Kaiser shaved his mustache off one time and until it grew back, no one looked at him in the eye

Joe takes long showers. Doesnt help when there is only 2 and one of them doesnt work because someone (Disco) made mustard gas in that one and everyone was told not to use it

OKAY SO I FEAR I HAD ALOT OF FUN MAKING THIS SO IM GONNA DO ONE FOR THE REST NOW😈😈

[blackbloodteeth]

Shout-out to @chickycherrycola and @mellancholy-morose for pushing me to do a quick snippet for the night (and @silluuuu because I was unashamedly thinking about Thief during this too haha), had a lot of fun with this one haha

————

He never thought he was that kinda guy – He had standards, taste. After all, when one is so soul-deep tied to a piano's keys, it's only natural to be so musically inclined. Fine-tuned, even.

And yet this gal just had to come along, brightest spark of curiosity he'd ever seen in that nice-lookin' trench coat and plaid red skirt (he loves red, what can he say), standin' with her shoulders squared even as the lights dim, just before his next performance. The old stage floor creaks as the wheels slowly roll out into view, a dark, ebony grand piano bathed in the shadows steadily being painted in the one remaining light left, all on its own as it stops just a few feet in front of her. And what does she do? Comes up to him, bold little gleam in her pretty green eyes as she takes it like an invitation and starts tapping his damn keys.

Of course, let him step back a bit – He doesn't always mind when people do this, no. Always free show and food if someone good comes along and busts out a tune, and a delicious midnight snack if they came in after hours or were absolute shit at it. But her, no, no, no.

He's a patient guy. Sometimes he waits his turn if there's too many people in line, too many eyes on his prize for him to eat someone on the off chance in peace. But her. No, it almost made his strings snap with just how unbearably awful her playing was, I mean just Beethoven rolling in his grave level atrocious, and yet: He couldn't bring himself to do it. Not even a taste of her delightful little soul, all aglow with that smile and laughter, all genuine because he didn't scare her. She was having fun, actually honest-to-heck enjoyin' herself listening to all the different notes he made out of tune like she was a sadistic little angel and this was his punishment finally manifested.

And honestly: Really she was actually just tone deaf.

Now, you can fast-forward a bit.

That spark in Maka's eyes ignites somethin' fierce as she presses her favourite little key of his – G – and lets her fingers interlock as it rises up as a mass of shadow, quickly reforming into a hand just as dedicated to her grasp while the rest of the piano melts into the form of a person – Him. All decked out in that suit he likes, grinning all his shark teeth from behind her as he looks back with faintly glowing eyes, red like fine wine and midnight while he fully assumes his human form, white hair and all. 'Bout as much of a human piano as one would 'spect, he reckons.

"You rang," he chuckles, head cocked to see a little more of that mischief take ahold of her face again.

"Jack the Ripper's on the loose; You game?"

A dark laugh twirls her around in a dance of indulgence and misfortunate familiarity, bowing her down in a pose because he knows it annoys her as much as she allows it. "As if you had to ask."

Eyes roll, she turns the tide, leaning over him with a murderous reminder of their contract in her eyes. "Then let's go, Soul Eater."

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Carve Out A Place For Me to Sing

Okay so, I had an idea for a story a long time ago and I was going to write this out, but I figured I'd try a hand at making this into a fanfiction first. I think y'all will really like the idea though. Hear me out:

Exectutioner!König

I know others have done the idea, but this is a world I've been building for ages with its own established lore and history. I think you'll all find this to be pretty fun.

CW: public execution, mild descriptions of gore,

Wordcount: 4.8k

Art from This Post

Story below the Cut

Carve Out A Place For Me to Sing

You hated execution wakes*. They were miserable, wretched shows of viscera and torment. You despised the way the crowd would roar and cheer as the severed head held up the hand to the crowd, eyes still fluttering with prayers on their trembling lips. You were revolted by how Judge Holten would laugh like a great, bellowing tracker* as the criminals would writhe and beg for mercy. What chilled you most, of the event, were his eyes. Not Judge Holten’s, most certainly not Father Kim’s, but his.

Cold blue eyes like the hold of Criah’s turn* on your heart. A chilling draft through thatched roofs. His watch felt like stepping into a frozen forest, lost under a pale sky without a hearth or home in reach, left to freeze nestled in the notches of a tangle of tree roots. Whenever he looked at you, you could feel the cold chill winding up your spine. You were a good, honest woman. Any woman would be afraid of a beast like him.

You shuddered as you kneaded the sourdough bread beneath your hands. Your aunt clucked her tongue at you.

“Well come on! We don’t have all the time in the world, do we now?” she shook the dark curls that framed her face, “daylight’s fading on us!”

“Auntie, my arms feel like they’re going to fall off!” you complained as you dropped the dough into a bowl to rise again.

“Well I’ll knock them off if you keep up with your whinging!” she squawked and threw another tray of buns into the blazing oven.

“You know, if you’ve got this sort of energy, you’re free to go out to market tomorrow,” you tried once more as you drew out another batch of dough to knead.

“I’ve got three young’uns underfoot,” your aunt scolded you, “I don’t have nearly enough time to go out hawking bread to those animals.”

“Animals” you scoffed, “I didn’t think witch Rozlin is an animal.”

“Witch Rozlin is a good woman, but anyone going out to one of those blood shows is naught much more than a pig out back,” Auntie sniffed.

You rolled your eyes as you got to kneading the next batch. It wasn’t like you disagreed with your Auntie, but you were rather nonplussed by the idea of going out and selling buns to the rabid mob that was sure to form in the town square next wake's morning*. Your Auntie had a point, the three rapscallions that were currently out at school would be a handful on a Hollinwake, but all god watch you’d been looking forward to having the day to yourself. After all, Hollinwake was the one wake in a god watch devoted to caring for yourself and for your family. It was meant to be a day of peace, rest and personal growth, but it figured that Judge Holten would schedule an execution for the final day of a god watch. You could really strangle the man, sometimes.

It wasn’t like anyone else disagreed with you. Judge Holten was a miserable toad. He was a stout man with a grotesque belly that overhung his gilded rope belt, and he had a pugnacious air to him that radiated from him like the scent of his tobacco. He would walk around town in his great scarlet robes, using his black walking stick to wack children and small animals alike out from under his foot with a scoff and turn of his head. It was a wonder any woman willingly shared a bed with the man. In all fairness, as a halfling, you had particular reason to dislike the man, but that was between you and higher powers. You just wished that Halax might take a shine to you and smite the bastard from existence.

Alas, Halax* had long-since turned her back on you when your uncle had fallen ill. Normally, he’d be in your place to prepare the bread and buns for tomorrow, but he had been struck ill at the start of the god watch. He was in bed since Dandorwake*. You’d prayed at church with Father Kim, who’d kindly offered you a cup of pure mead and a fresh cabbage from the church’s gardens, but you’d declined and urged him to keep them for someone else. He’d tried to insist, but you’d long since departed. Maybe it was a sin to turn your back on a priest when he wasn’t finished an offering, but you knew full well that he needed that cabbage far more than you ever could.

Last cycle* had been cruel. This turning time had been fruitful in harvests, but it didn’t make up for an entire cycle of suffering. There had been nothing but torrential rain followed by ages of heat that left the earth splitting with cracks and coughing dust. Most families had to turn to the reserves, but of course, Father Kim had no such reserves. The church was entirely dependent on donations to run, and with families unable to feed their own children, Father Kim had to make do with an entire cycle of kitchen scraps and meagre growth from their garden. Even now, Father Kim was still bony and meagre in frame, a mere shadow of the power and might he’d carried the cycle before.

Maybe it was because you’d denied Father Kim’s offerings that your uncle still lay sick, but you weren’t too concerned. Just last wake, witch Rozlin had come with the town apothecary, Darnell, who’d laughed and told you your uncle would be up and on his feet within a couple wakes. Of course, they still charged you for their time, but you were glad to only be giving over a handful of brass coins and sending them on their way and not a pinch of gold coins in exchange for a vial. So, with the reminder to wait, your uncle had been laid back to rest and you had gone out to give the good news to your cousins.

A spark of embers caught your attention. You realized your Auntie must have left to go grab the children from the school master for the evening, leaving you alone in the bakery to work on the next batches. You heaved a sigh and straightened your aching back momentarily before returning back to your work. After all, you had plenty of work to do.

The next wake had started with you loading up the wagon for the market.

“Auntie, are you sure you want to sell the salted buns?” you asked as your Auntie hauled in another load of buns.

“I’m sure of it,” your Auntie declared, “they’re the best thing I’ve made in moons!”

“But-”

“No buts!” she held a roughened finger up to your lips, “just go! You’ll be lucky if it’s not over by now.”

“I hope it is,” you muttered back.

“And just you be careful about The Axe, alright?” your Auntie worried over you as she adjusted your had scarf.

“Worry about The Axe? Why?” you asked.

“He’s a mean one, he is,” your Auntie warned you, “barely talks but… Well… He’s an executioner, dear. He’s not a good man. You’d best keep your distance if you can.” 

“Doesn’t my uncle deal with him?” you frowned.

“Oh he’s nice enough to your uncle, but to a young lady?” your auntie clucked her tongue, “I don’t like thinking about it. He’s not right in the head. If I could I’d go with you, but with the little ones…”

You smiled warmly, “I understand. Don’t worry Auntie, I promise I’ll be safe.”

“Make sure you have someone with you when he comes to get his rations!”

You barely heard her as you picked up the handles of the wagon and set off at a reasonable place to get to the village square. It wouldn’t be more than a half watch* to get there by foot, less by beetle. You’d always tried to get your uncle to buy one, but he’d stubbornly refused each time you brought up the idea.

At the very least, the walk was a good one. The warmth of Brak-Hah’s turn had a spring in your step as you moved down the dirt path, formed by generations of beetles, turtles and lizards drawing wagons from town to town. Being on the outskirts had its benefits, that couldn’t be argued, but you sometimes found the walk to be tiresome.

As you pushed the wagon, you let yourself focus on the growing wheat of your uncle’s fields. They were slowly turning a nice, bright golden yellow with the coming of Hanndoal’s turn*, which was heralded by the trees in the distance turning a rugged burgundy splattered with patches of golden yellow. The sky above was bright and blue, a glorious day for an outing. It truly was a beautiful day for an execution.

You rolled the cart through the cobblestone streets to the centre square, where the red splotched platform had been dutifully erected. Already, a crowd was milling about in their fine clothes, all shades of bright yellow, soft green and pastel blues, a farewell to the warm sun of Brak-Hah’s turn* and welcoming in the cool winds of Hanndoal’s turn. You smiled at the sight of it all.

Already, a few others had set up their stalls in preparations for the day. You saw the farmers arranging their Brak-Hah’s turn’s crops and hanging up garlands of spices to draw in patrons from the crowd. Across from that roughened few, a cobbler was setting up a place to clean people’s shoes of the blood. Today looked like it was turning out to be a beheading.

You spotted a familiar dark head of hair and hurried to her side.

“What’s the crime?” you asked as you came up to Salvatrice.

She glanced back at you and winced, the scar on the left side of her face bunching with the grimace.

“Why’re you out here?” she growled.

“Is that how you’re greeting a friend?” you laughed.

“Well, it’s how I greet you,” she snorted as she turned to face you properly, “but where’s your uncle? Usually he comes out to these sorts of things.”

“He’s sick as a lizard right now,” you laughed, “but he’ll be up on his feet soon. We had Darnell and Witch Rozlin come out to take a look at him.”

“Why didn’t you get your aunt to come instead of you?” Salvatrice scowled.

“It’s almost like you don’t want to see me!” you put your hands on your hips accusingly.

That at least brought a smile to her scarred face, “I just didn’t think you’d like being here. I know you’re not too big a fan of what we’ve got going on this wake.”

“Eh,” you shrugged, “I can just look away. But yeah, what’s the crime here? Who’s getting whacked?”

“Judge Holten found Cramus Wright guilty of murder,” Salvatrice explained, “he punched some poor bastard in the back of the neck so hard that their spine cracked.”

“Wait,” you shook your head, “why’d he do that?”

“Beats me,” Salvatrice shrugged, “but he did it, so here he is.”

You looked up at he platform where Father Kim was reciting his prayers. Beside him, Judge Holten was scratching his stomach and yawning. His great book of law was tucked under his other arm like a fat slug.

“Where’s the executioner?” you asked, your voice wavering slightly.

“Leading Cramus, I’d think,” Salvatrice fiddled with one of her skinning knives.

“So it should take a while to get here,” you surmised.

“You should start selling that bread before he shows up,” Salvatrice reminded you, “people might not be so hungry after.”

“Oh you know they always are,” you groaned, but wheeled your cart back to a spare stall and laid out your goods.

It only took a couple of shouts for people to starting making their way over to you. You rolled your eyes when your Auntie’s salted buns sold out first, but vowed to tell her what a great success they were when you got home. Sadly, your uncle’s browned beetle meat buns weren’t quite so popular, but at the very least your spinach buns were selling well enough for you to feel confident in your experiments. Of course, the salted turtle buns sold well, but so did anything your Auntie made. You didn’t quite have the talent for coming up with recipes like she did, but what you lacked in useful creativity you more than made up for in technical skill. You knew your lattice pies were always sure to win over the crowds.

You passed a turtle bun to a small girl when you heard the yelling from behind you. You turned to look, and immediately wished you hadn’t.

There in the centre of the road was a great monolith of a man carrying the soon to be departed Cramus Wright on his back. You shuddered as he neared the square, his heavy footsteps slowly trudging by you to make his way to the great platform. The crowd split silently for the man, not a soul daring to step within his radius. Children huddled into their mother’s aprons and men shuddered at the sight of him. Up on his back, Cramus Wright threw his meaty hands against the giant and bellowed like a swamp toad. His eyes bulged so ever from afar you could see the whites of his black eyes as they whirled round and round in their sockets.

“It ain’t me!” the man’s voice carried through the whole square, “I didn’t do it! It wasn’t me!”

Judge Holten rolled his eyes as Cramus was strapped into the stocks. He begged and cried until his voice went hoarse as he thrashed against the black iron chains. His neck strained as he tried to move his head from the chopping block, but eventually his body gave out and he slumped down over the wood.

Judge Holten sighed and turned to the crowd. He pulled out the brown leather book and started up his readings, calling out with a pious voice that grated on your ears. You ignored his callings to focus on Father Kim, who sensing his opportunity, had kneeled by the prisoner’s side to give him his final prayers. He painted the man’s face in pigmented oils, forming complex patterns that linked and looped across his cheeks up to his forehead, where Father Andreas painted a bright and glorious eye in red. When he’d finished, he kissed the man’s forehead and stepped back to stand beside the half-giant and speak to him. The crowd roared and cheered as Judge Holten whipped them up into a fury, but you saw past them to the silent duo who stood waiting by the edge of the worn wood platform.

There with his cursed hood stood the half giant only known in the village as ‘The Axe’. He was a horrendous man, what with his tremendous body and his hulking pose. He stood out in any crowd he stood in, a shrouded wraith covered in dark cloth from head to toe, save only for a tan tunic he tucked in with a girthy black leather belt. He lorded above Father Andreas, and yet there was something so tender in seeing a man born of blood and death bowing down so that a chosen holy spirit could whisper into his ear. You couldn’t see his eyes from here (and thank Halax for that), but you could see the man’s shoulders shake with a good laugh.

Eventually, Judge Holten closed his book and tucked it back under his left arm, turning to face the unfortunate Cramus Wright.

“Cramus Wright,” Judge Holten’s voice boomed around you, “you are found to be guilty of murder in the highest degree. Additionally, you are charged with the theft of four-hundred gold coins, thirty-eight silver coins, forty five bronze coins, and ten copper coins. You are hereby deemed unfit to live amongst common man, and are to be beheaded with a blunt axe. May Forruxik* have mercy on you.”

Your knees felt weak. A blunt axe? That seemed absolutely barbaric, and yet the crowd cheered all the same.

From the back, you saw The Axe take an axe from his side, rusted red with a grotty hardwood handle. He twirled it expertly in his hand as he walked forth, ignoring Cramus’s screams and the cheering of the crowd. He leisurely sauntered to the side and looked down on Cramus. He bent in half to lean down to the man’s ear. A brief exchange was made, and The Axe rose back up to his full monstrous height and raised the axe up high in his tremendous hands. The crowd was silent as The Axe took a deep breath, momentarily soaking in the moment, then swung down with all his might. You turned away just in time to hear a fleshy thud.

The crowd screamed with wild delight as Cramus’s head was raised up his, painting The Axe’s creamy tunic in bright scarlet red as blood rained down upon the crowd. They eagerly surged forward to try and catch some of it on any piece of clothing, anything to keep as a memento of the event. The Axe looked down upon them with those cold, cold eyes. You could see the sheer hatred and disdain from where you stood at your stall. You shivered as The Axe took the head and hurled it into the crowd to be torn apart. They grappled over it like wild lizards, teeth gnashing and spit flying as they tried to get a piece for themselves.

When you looked back at the stage, Father Kim had his hand on The Axe’s bicep and was speaking to him. Judge Holten was stepping down the platform stairs to make way for the morticians that crawled up from the earth to take their prize. They’d get the head in about an hour, when all was said and done. 

You sneered at the display, and instead focused your energy on making your sales to the now-ravenous mob.

You made your sales easily. It was sometimes easier to turn your brain off and just take the coins, tuck them into your pouch, only occasionally taking some out to provide change. You worked quickly efficiently, not fully realizing how many you’d gotten through until the sky started to turn and the crowds dwindled to nothing.

Only once all the patrons had left for the day did you notice a shadow crossing your stall.

You looked up, only to immediately freeze under the watch of those frozen eyes.

“Hallo?” his voice was strangely accented, “I am here for my allotment.”

You blinked as you took in The Axe. You’d never seen him this close before, where you could actually see the red trails that hung below the holes he cut out for his eyes.

“Your allotment?” you whimpered as you trembled.

The Axe nodded slowly, almost as though you were stupid.

You looked around your stall, but it was bare of any goods. Everything had been sold that day. What did he mean?

“What allotment?” you managed to squeak out.

“My bread,” The Axe said as though that might help clarify his meaning, “I want my bread. The provisions bread.”

You blinked up at him.

“What provisions bread?” you asked, now confused more than afraid.

“For my duties I am given rations,” The Axe explained in his whispery voice, “your uncle always puts them aside for me.”

Oh! The rations! Surely your auntie had packed them somewhere.

You turned and rummaged through the cart, but there wasn’t so much as a bun to give over. On the shelves under your stall, they held naught more than a coating of fresh crumbs. You turned up to him with a frown, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any bread for you. Are you sure that you’re meant to get rations from us today?”

“There is no other miller in the village,” The Axe grunted, “do you not have my rations?”

You cringed at his accusations and subtly tried to shift your coin pouch away, ever so carefully creeping from him as you told him, “I don’t have your rations. I’m sorry.”

The Axe stood still. You couldn’t help but freeze under his icy eyes. You saw rage like no other in those Criah’s turn eyes, cold and billowing out like a hailing gale. He looked you up and down with those frosted eyes before letting out a puff of air, making his black mask billow out before resting back on his face.

“Then next time,” he said quietly.

You turned to leave but he coughed to grab your attention.

“What?” you asked, a bit ruder than you intended.

“Is your uncle alright?”

You lowered your tensed shoulders, then scowled, “Why would you care? You’re not looking for him, are you?”

The Axe swung his head back and forth slowly, “I do not want to hurt anyone. I just have to. So what happened to your uncle?”

“He’s sick,” you said tersely.

“A shame,” The Axe said quietly, “I hate to hear that he’s suffering.”

Your scowl deepened, “What do you mean? That’s literally your job. You kill people all the time. You make people suffer for money. If you don’t like hurting people, why are you still here?”

“It pays well,” The Axe muttered, “it’s all I’m allowed to do, anyways.”

You paused. What in Mormonia* was he talking about?

“Couldn’t you get a job as a tailor? Maybe a glove maker?” you offered.

“Who would take an executioner as an apprentice?” The Axe chuckled, “you see how the others are afraid to even be near me. Nobody will take me in.”

You drummed your fingers on the counter, “Why don’t you go to another town?”

“With what work history? Nobody will hire me,” The Axe supplied.

You nodded slowly before grimacing and offering your final solution, “Why don’t you become an adventurer? Somebody as big as you would make a good fighter, right?”

“And leave my home?” The Axe shook his head, “I love my home. Nobody likes me here, but this place is safe. I’m happier here.”

You leaned on the top of the stall, curling your fingers into a fist under your chin as you thought carefully. The Axe didn’t seem quite so scary now. You’d always figured him to be rude and abrasive, a beast of a man, but now that you spoke to him he seemed just as nervous of you as you of him.

You tried to think of another solution, but all that came up was, “Why don’t you make somebody else do your job?”

“Hah!” The Axe barked, “nobody can do my job as well as I can. They would draw out the pain, make the prisoners suffer. I make it quick. I try to make it as painless as possible.”

You nodded slowly. In the end, he managed to take a man’s head off with one sweep of a dull axe. There wasn’t another man in the village that you could imagine being able to pull off the same feat. He easily could have drawn out the killing, had every excuse with a dull axe, and yet he chose to make it as quick as possible. 

“So, you really don’t have a choice,” you concluded.

The Axe shook his head mournfully.

“That…” you slumped a bit, “that sucks. I’m sorry you have to do this.”

“It’s not so bad,” The Axe offered, “just lonely.”

“Lonely?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Very,” The Axe nodded, “only a small few are willing to speak to me, and only because they must. I am friends with Darnell, Witch Rozlin, and Father Andreas. Occasionally, Sister Callisto or Sister Mila will speak to me, but if they are not forced to speak with me, nobody speaks to me. Everyone in this village hates me. If they don’t hate me, they are afraid of me.

“So,” The Axe shrugged, “I am lonely.”

You frowned at the thought. It sounded like a miserable existence. You’d always known the community to welcome you with open arms. You laughed with neighbours, chatted with vendors, haggled with patrons with ease. Life was always busy with five nieces and nephews running underfoot in your busy home. The Axe, though, was a different case.

You knew The Axe to be the only son of a waif of a woman and a giant man that had hung himself after his wife passed. For at least four years, you knew the Axe to live on his own out in a cottage deep in the woods. Supposedly, it was to protect everyone from the butcher’s rage. Now, you were starting to think the reverse might be true.

“That sounds awful,” you admitted, “I can’t imagine everyone in the village hating me.”

“You get used to it,” The Axe offered.

You frowned, “You shouldn’t have to ‘get used to it’. You should be able to have friends like anybody else.”

“Well, would you be friends with the man who kills for a living?” The Axe snorted.

You looked the man up and down carefully. The blood on his tunic had turned a maroon red. In the dying light of the sun, you could make out some flecks had made their way onto his slider belt buckle. You flicked your eyes away from his crotch to look down at his thighs, each one thick as tree trunks and just as sturdy. Looking back up at his face, his cold eyes now seemed less dour, severe. Instead, you wondered if he was lost in his own frozen forest.

“I think I would be,” you offered.

The Axe’s eyes widened.

“You would be?” he parroted.

“I think if he let me,” you gave him a small smile.

The bells of the church rung out, indicating the late hour. You hissed as you scrambled to grab your wagon and pull it out from behind the stall. When you turned, The Axe was still standing, looking completely shell-shocked.

“Hey,” you caught his attention, “if you come back tomorrow at the start of the tenth watch*, I’ll get you your rations.”

“But won’t that be after sundown?” The Axe shifted his weight.

“The moon will be up by then,” you agreed, “but it won’t be too late. I can still make it out here and back before my Auntie and Uncle go to sleep. Do you wanna meet up then?”

The Axe looked down at his hands and shuffled awkwardly, “If you’re willing to do all that for me…”

“I’d love to,” you cut him off, “anyways, it’s getting late. I should probably get him before my Auntie gets worried.”

The Axe nodded and sent you off with a wave.

You walked down the path, following the glowing blue and white blossoms of moon flowers. A few patches of luminescent moss growing across the wood fences helped keep you on course when you finally made your way home.

When you did manage, your Auntie was waiting in the living room for you.

“You’re back!” she exclaimed and threw her arms around you before pulling away, “I’m so sorry! Was he mean to you? Did he try to hurt you?”

You screwed up your face, “Auntie, what’re you talking about? Who would’ve hurt me?”

“The Axe!” she exclaimed, “I forgot to pack his rations for you today. I only noticed once you’d left! Surely he got upset, didn’t he? Was he too scary? I can tell your uncle he needs to find another baker if he tried to hurt you.”

“No, no,” you shook your head, “he was fine. I just told him I’d get them to him later.”

Your Auntie shrieked so loud you had to cover your ears.

“You told him you’d see him again?” she screeched, “what in the realms* were you thinking, girl!? Oh what have you done?”

“I told him I’d meet him at the tenth watch,” you explained, “out in the town square.”

Your Auntie looked like she’d keel over and faint right then and there, “Oh by Halax’s name, what have you done?” she shook her head, “no, you’re not going. I can’t have you seeing that dangerous man on your own, and especially not after dark!”

“What do you mean?” you scoffed, “I made a promise! You can’t have me breaking a promise, can you?”

“Oh I most certainly can!” your Auntie huffed, “it’s what’s best for you!”

“But Auntie he wasn’t that bad!” you tried to reason with her, “he’s nice! He’s just lonely!”

“Lonely?” your Auntie scoffed, “pah! That’s ridiculous. Now you listen and you listen close: you’re not to go and see him tomorrow. You stay right here with us. If I see you skeeving off, you’ll be in for a world of trouble!”

You glared at her, but you were too tired to argue. You simply closed your eyes and nodded.

“That’s a good girl,” your Auntie sighed, “now, off to bed with you. We’ve got a busy day of baking tomorrow!”

You tromped up the creaking wooden stairs to go to bed.

As you brushed out your hair, you thought about how lonely The Axe must have been out in his cottage. As you settled down into the straw, you vowed to make sure you’d change that.

Glossary

Wake - Day

Tracker - Type of lizard used for hunting (Mormonia's version of dogs)

Criah's turn - Every turn is a season named after a god. Criah's turn is named after the god of death, grief, hope and forgiveness. This turn is effectively winter

Next Wake - tomorrow

Hollinswake - tenth day of the week (there are ten days in a week), named after the goddess Hollin (diety of dreams and nightmares)

Halax - Creator goddess

Dandorwake - fifth day of the week, named after Dandor (diety of aspiration and responsibility)

Cycle - year

Half Watch - half an hour

Brak-Hah - God of the Sun, Light, Children and Joy

Hanndoal's Turn - Fall season, named after Hanndoal (diety of Trickery, Fun, Truth and Creativity)

Forruxik - God of Justice, Order, Wisdom and Intelligence

Mormonia - World

Tenth Watch - Days are split into 12 watches, each lasting 2 hours 24 minutes long

The Realms - There are an undetermined amount of realms of reality, with the three most pressing ones being the Looking Realm (our realm), the Feeling Realm (the realm where the otherworldly live) and the Highest Realm (the realm where Gods live)

Konig Dump

Alternate Universes

[h-didanart]

MY MIND

Jack-o-moon was walking around the pizza plex and found a broken bloodmoon still alive and takes bloodmoon to the daycare sense sun and moon didn't live there anymore bloodmoon meets dazzle and doesn't leave the daycare jack makes sure no one finds bloodmoon as Puppet gotten suspicious of jack-o-moon and dazzle for not letting her enter sun's and moon's old room

Anyway

Jail

OH

OH I LIKE THIS

Jack finds them and decides to help, I’d imagine they’d be very confused by that. And them living in the Daycare is actually like really fricking funny, cuz like, the Celestials work there, Bloodmoon would have to listen to them work and all the children, it must get annoying very fast. AND DAZZLE— yes. Yes, beautiful idea. And the Puppet plot point is giving me very distinct vibes that I can only describe via meme

Puppet: whatcha got there?

Jack, holding a bag of chips as Dazzle stands behind them holding a blanket burritified Bloodmoon: Disappointment!

Oh.

Hmmm

*grabs a nearby crowbar*

Hold on there, I’m getting you out of there bud

[dear-ao3]

if anyone remembers approximately 2 weeks ago when i was actively giving up on a homework assignment well

half of the reason it was so hard was because i somehow managed to do the assignments out of order?

i got my grade back (a whopping 4/9) and the professor called my methods "extremely unorthodox" and i agree with her

[mkstrigidae]

Coming back from the dead is the kind of thing that can really fuck up your weekend, as Jon has recently found out (especially considering that he’d paid a mint for those concert tickets, thanks). On one hand, the bureau paperwork is horrifying, and the less said about his skyrocketing health insurance premiums or this year's taxes, the better. On the other hand, though, Sansa Stark, the pretty head of the medical/pathology research division and long-time object of Jon's affections, has insisted on giving him her utmost attention until she’s sure he’s back on his feet and fully among the living.

[fisherrprince]

oh so alisaie’s exaggerated bully behavior is 80% fanon. saying this she casually picks up a large rock

[adelinamoteru]

I have truly never seen so much discourse for a hero/anti-hero that kills until I started liking jason todd. I have literally never seen so many people get hate for not condemning a fictional character who kills bad guys until now its shocking! and I mean that literally

maybe I’m the one missing something but there are plenty of heroes (not antiheroes but HEROES) who exist that choose a lethal method and people take that in stride? the only way I can make sense of this is that people are so attached to batman and his mythos; they literally imprint on him and his thinking ?? and now any slight against him or challenge against his righteousness is taken as if its a slight against them.

at the end of the day, to me, you can still support jason being lethal because the fictional characters hes killing aren’t actually dead. in this sense, specifically, I don’t see why real life morals should be applied to a comic world. he’s not killing out of bigotry and if he was, I would get the controversy! but if you can agree with brutally beating and invasions of privacy in the dcu because it’s “morally correct” within the universe, I can’t see an argument against jason’s methods being morally wrong as valid unless those views are applied to every aspect of batman comics. if we did that, then everyone who continued reading these comics would be getting the same treatment jason todd fans do. ​you cannot hold one character accountable to real life moral views and not the other(s)!

[fluentisonus]

ideologically I [often] don't agree with historical caricature art but they really went off with the visually depicting aspects of daily life & dress & types of people you almost never see shown in other types of contemporary art