#human hair weave brands

[kifkay]

I love when magic has an effect on the body & soul of its caster. like!! you don’t get to be a reality-bending demi-god and walk away with no strings attached. there’s always a price.

Bloom’s dragon fire consumes her from the inside, leaving lightning-like tissues of scars along her limbs - be careful, rumbles the Great Dragon from within, don’t let your emotions consume you. Bloom wails from the pain and clutches whoever is in the vicinity - but cannot fully stop it. just prevent it or treat the aftermath.

Musa gets migraines. Stella becomes ill when she doesn’t get her daily dose of sunshine. Aisha’s senses get muddy sometimes, almost as if she’s submerged underwater. Nabu experiences uncontrollable tremors in his arms, when he creates too many of his phantoms. all of those are - yes, horrible to experience but manageable enough for the school (and the Magic community at large) to tell them to just suck it up and weather through.

once you get your enchantix though, you start developing… unique abilities. almost like, in achieving the final fairy form, you became one with your brand of magic.

Bloom starts producing smoke. Like - she snorts at something funny Riven or Sky say, and literal puffs of smoke emerge from her nose. It’s jarring at first (“Bloom Peters, when did you start smoking? do you know that it kills??”) but quickly becomes endearing once they realise it’s not life-threatening in any way (after speed-running through like fifteen Magix apothecaries). Among her other ‘oddities’: too hot to cuddle with (only Stella can stand the high temperature, since she has a resistance to heat), becomes strangely overprotective and a little possessive, her eyes sometimes become a startling orange hue as if she’s embodied by the great dragon himself (it’s just a party trick).

Stella becomes more ethereal. In certain lights, her skin looks translucent - like a mirage weaved with moonlight. Her hair glints in the sun, almost too bright to like at; her touch feels phantom-like. She becomes even more beautiful, but less - human, earth-bound, Stella-esque. A curse and a blessing, that one.

Musa’s hearing gets really fucking good. She has a steadily growing dossier of blackmail on every student in Alfea - simply because shut doors or longer distances are no longer obstacles for her. It’s annoying too, because she can’t exactly turn it off - and now she gets to hear all the things people say about her, behind her. but here’s a consolation - she can influence other creature’s emotions through the melodies she hums! like how in canon, she pacified the bird Roc and brought mirth to the arguing fairies.

Flora gets much sturdier. Her skin harder than bark; her body able to withstand thirst and hunger for much longer than the rest. It’s honestly so intimidating. Here’s this sweet young woman — known to cry for trampled flowers and cut weeds!! — absolutely bodying a sharp ass ice shard that Icy attacked her with. It just — crumbles upon colliding with Flora’s body. insane and frankly so so hot for others to see.

As per the negatives… I like the idea of Flora being able to connect to the memories of nature around her and literally absorb the pain/fear/anguish of whatever she witnessed.

Aisha and Bloom are similar, in a sense that both of them are vessels to primordial divinities of their universe — Bloom is the holder of the Dragon Flame, and Aisha is the child of the Infinite Ocean. therefore, both experience a more extreme transformation than their girl friends. like, Aisha’s dreams are infiltrated by visions of past and future; memories of those who were lost to the Ocean. she dreams of Politea, of Tritanus, of her mer cousins and ancestors, and even those who were not yet born. if Aisha was not so mentally wilful, she might’ve folded under the weight of those prophesies.

Aisha can also breathe under water and her body gets the musculature it needs to be on par with her mer cousins while swimming, because why the fuck not?

Tecna - I frankly have no ideas for and would love to hear suggestions!

[sunnie-angel]

A Soft Touch (pt. 1)

jason todd x f!reader (implied)

summary: when the pit brought jason back, it heightened all of his senses. he learns to live with that.

tags: mild body horror, sensory overload, mentions of offscreen violence, implied future relationship

rated teen | wc: 1.9k

a/n: dedicated to @jasonsmirrorball my beloved, who was just as excited about this version of jason as i was. part one is mostly a retrospective about how super senses would have impacted jason. the romance part of this story (and nsfw) will be in part 2 coming soon!

link to part 2, ao3 link

The Red Hood’s helmet isn’t just a precaution against an exposed secret identity or another piece of armour. It’s a necessity. It filters out sound, keeps out pungent smells and the associated tastes, controls light, and can restrict range of vision. For a regular person the helmet would be sensory deprivation of the worst kind. For Jason, it is the lifeline that keeps him alive to fight another day.

If anyone had asked Jason’s opinion before throwing him into the Lazarus Pit (not that he was in a fit state to respond, mind you) he would have told them that trusting a puddle of primordial green goo to know the limitations of the human body was incredibly stupid. Having come out of the experience irrevocably altered, he would point to his own body as an example of how much the pit didn’t know about humanity. Every scar he received before death had been removed (notably, the scars from after death were left untouched). He was over six feet tall when childhood malnutrition should have left him a good five inches shorter. His strength, rather than the result of packed on muscle and a good diet was definitely being supplemented by something unnatural. For a body built like a fridge, he was ridiculously light on his feet and agile. The physics of him just don’t make sense. Yet despite all of these changes, undoubtedly the worst was how all five of his senses had been heightened.

The Lazarus Pit burned through Jason Todd and woke him up screaming. It was the feel of it that was the worst sensation, the one that brought him up to consciousness first. The rough weave of his training pants grating against his skin like wire, clinging to his raw flesh with the dampness of the pit. Green water, oddly viscous and acrid, drenching his skin and burning like a grease fire. It drips down his nose and throat, the taste of tar and blood seared into his tongue, the scent of burnt hair and flesh imprinted into his nose. It drips into his eyes and brands them. The dark cave only lit by the green glow of the pool now so bright like it holds the light of one hundred stars. Burning and drowning and being flayed alive, Jason has no care for noise save that it deafens him. For those first few moments of awakening, Jason may as well have been truly deaf for the thunderous roar of nothingness in his ears. A rubber band snaps and at once his hearing is another ice pick to the brain. Voices that should have been a whisper ring through his skull and reverberate. The footsteps of shadows several floors away staccato through him. It is a living hell made worse by a screaming that won’t shut up. It is only when a slap cracks across his face (it feels like all the skin on his cheek has sloughed off) and the scream trails off to pitiful whines does Jason dimly recognize that the screaming was him. Two pairs of hands under his arms haul him to standing and it hurts oh it hurts. Iron meat hooks digging and clawing their way into him until he is too pinned to slip away. That is the start to the illustrious second life of Jason Todd, newly gifted.

As much training is dedicated to making Jason a better warrior, twice that is given over to training him to survive his own senses. It is rough, brutal work, dictated by trainers that have never felt the pit’s bite. It destroys whatever sanity he might have had left after his rebirth and he is grateful. He is remade with control, no longer a pitiful broken mind tied to a falling star, bracing to burn up on impact. He no longer aches at the feel of fabric on his skin, can smile and hold a conversation without wanting to claw the other person’s heart out for beating too loudly, can drink wine and not taste every molecule. He is so very grateful. But it is not enough. Talia warns him, in what might be her first true act of uncomplicated kindness to him, that those who have survived the pit don’t do well in places where life is concentrated.

Returning to Gotham is not the triumph he pictured. Within minutes of touching down he is on a safe house floor convulsing from sensory overload. The city, with its people and the machinery that houses them, is too much of everything. There are so many voices overlaid with construction and traffic, the chemical rot of the harbour suffocating him, sewage and putrid fish thick on his tongue, fluorescent lights tearing through the soft space of his eyelids. Gunshots and sirens and the tang of old blood. It takes every one of his years of training to stop seizing. It takes iron will like he hadn’t known since the early days to come back to himself. It takes days before he can control himself enough to come face to face with the shadows Talia sent with him. His first order: to bring him a motorcycle helmet. The helmet is black and stinks of cigarette smoke, visor slightly scratched. It is the most powerful relief Jason has ever known. His plans are delayed by months as he figures out the specifications for the Red Hood’s helmet. Design after design prototyped and discarded. The helmet helps, but Jason refuses to let it become his crutch. He practices, minutes at first and then hours, retraining himself to be able to exist outside the confines of the helmet.

He fails in his revenge against Batman and the Replacement, the insidious demands of his heightened senses unraveling all his patience and planning. Sends him into a murderous frenzy that nearly ends in another dead Robin. Ribs broken and face beaten in by his own father, all Jason can concentrate on is the sensation of drying blood flaking on his skin. Delirious, he thinks, so this is what they meant about the killing rage the pit hands out. It is only by the thinnest of chances that nobody dies at all and that his senses remain a secret.

Reconciliation is hard earned. He never quite gets around to telling anyone about his new ‘gifts’. Let’s them think him much more observant and tactically sound then he really is. Learns to identify the joyful thwip of Dick’s grappling gun, the steady drumming of Tim’s fingers on a keyboard. Jason memorizes the smell of Alfred’s hugs, a mixture of silver polish and baked goods. Starts to categorize all the different ways Bruce’s eyes on him feel physically.

Life doesn’t stop when his revenge does either. Jason rents an apartment as his semi-permanent safe house. Consciously decides to make it a home and learns the art of the DIY renovation. Blackout curtains go up first, followed by a soft blue on the walls (Jason may be sensitive to light now but he still can’t stand total darkness). Sound proofing comes next. He’s had a few close calls when the upstairs neighbour blasted music a little too loud and had had to restrain himself from killing them. The lumpy mattress gets replaced with memory foam and new sheets at a ridiculously high silk thread count he can’t quite believe he shelled out for. Through trial and error he finds a laundry detergent that doesn’t make him nauseous and celebrates with all the loads he’d put off. He finds joy in cooking again, running through all the recipes Alfred had taught him and appreciating them more for the new way the flavours tasted on his tongue. To his chagrin, he also discovers he hates the lingering smell of cooked food in his apartment after he’s done eating. A range hood fixes that problem but causes a new one with the rattle of the fan. Sound cancelling headphones quickly become his new best friend. Piece by piece his little oasis comes together.

Eventually Jason learns to share his little home. Stilted conversations in door frames turn into invitations for a drink turn into semi-regular dinners. Family movie nights start happening before Jason realizes it, all of the Robins, former and current, curled up in his living room. In the top kitchen cupboard on the left, a shelf gets dedicated to popcorn seasonings. Extra throw blankets get added to the sofa after Tim makes a remark about never making it through a movie night because the blankets are too comfy. Dick will show up cheerfully demanding a brotherly talk but Jason has realized that with the strategic application of cereal he can avoid talking about his own emotions. Alfred visits regularly, brings his own tea and a new recipe for the two of them to try together. Alfred never leaves without remarking on how well Jason keeps his home (and Jason never fails to flush at the compliment). Strangely enough it is when Bruce comes knocking that Jason feels the most sure footed in his apartment. Invites Bruce in politely and goes through the motions of hosting. It baffles Bruce a little, to see the Red Hood so domestic but it soothes the part of him that sat up all night with Jaylad when he was sickly. Bruce, in his own way, makes it clear that Jason will always be part of the family no matter where he chooses to live.

This latest point of reconciliation couldn’t have been timed any better. Only a few days later Damian turns up on the doorstep of the Wayne Manor. Bruce brings him by the apartment to introduce Damian to Jason, hoping that the two most recent additions will at least get along better than Damian and Tim’s first shaky interaction. It goes a little too well. Damian, unused to the sensory nightmare that is Gotham, takes two steps into Jason’s apartment and demands to stay with his big brother. Jason, intimately aware of how uncomfortable the transition from the orderly League compound to Gotham was, is only too happy to see Damian too. It takes a whispered fight of yes, I knew him, and no, I didn’t know who his father was before Bruce eventually has to concede that Damian will at least be spending some time in Jason’s home. The split transition makes establishing a life in Gotham much easier for Damian than it was for Jason. Jason can at least recognizes the signs of sensory overload, can guide Damian through it without the cruel methods of his former instructors. In caring for Damian, Jason comes to realize that he deserved worlds better than the torture disguised as teaching that he received. In preparing Damian to be a part of society, he realizes that he wants more out of life than being a controlled weapon too.

Jason waits, and he plans. After all, if he could design and execute a months’ long campaign to take over the Gotham underworld, surely he’s capable of getting a social life. He picks his first target with care, intending only to get used to being around people outside of scripted settings and his helmet. He chooses a small library two blocks from the apartment with an attached coffee shop, sets himself little goals for each day with the option to bail as soon as it becomes too much. In the span of two weeks he’s ready to move from using the library to sitting in the coffee shop. It’s a daunting task. The smell of the coffee beans, the hiss of the milk frother, and the quiet rumble of conversation prove to be too much for him on his first attempt. It’s as he’s leaving that a bright laugh floats above the din and stirs his curiosity. The next day has him right back at the coffee shop staring up at the chalk board menu. Sweat is starting to bead on his forehead and he could swear he can feel the vibrations of the coffee grinder on his skin. He is just about getting ready to leave when he hears the laugh again. Turns around and the owner of it is standing right behind him (how did she get so close without him noticing?!) beaming up at him.

And oh.

[serve-271]

PART 1 - The SERVE interview.

Matt, a 25-year-old with a lean, athletic build, stood before the mirror, carefully combing his blonde hair into place. His green eyes, vibrant with a mix of excitement and nerves, studied his reflection as if searching for reassurance. This was a pivotal moment—the first interview of his new life in a bustling city far removed from the quiet monotony of his small hometown. The company he was about to face was no ordinary employer. SERVE, with its sleek chrome logo adorning countless billboards and skyscrapers, loomed large as a beacon of ambition and progress. It was a chance to escape the familiar and step into the extraordinary.

His crisp white shirt and impeccably tailored navy suit were more than just attire; they were armor for the day ahead. He took a deep breath, steadying his racing heart, and glanced out the window of his modest hotel room. The city was alive with sound and motion—car horns, distant chatter, and the hum of life weaving through the urban tapestry. It was a stark contrast to the subdued stillness he had left behind. SERVE’s motto echoed in his mind: "Where obedience is pleasure and pleasure is obedience." The phrase was enigmatic and provocative, hinting at something transformative. Matt had spent hours studying the company’s mission, culture, and reputation, preparing himself to make the best possible impression.

The clock on his phone read 8:45 AM. The interview was scheduled for 9:30. He had built in plenty of time to navigate the unfamiliar city, but the efficiency of its public transportation system had surprised him. With fifteen extra minutes to spare, he paced the small room, rehearsing answers to the inevitable questions. Why SERVE? Why you? What can you offer? His polished shoes clicked softly against the hardwood floor as he ran through his mental scripts, each question a step closer to his aspirations

The elevator ride to the hotel lobby was brief, its sleek, mirrored walls reflecting his composed exterior. When the doors opened, a rush of city sounds and movement greeted him. People streamed through the grand entrance, their purpose and pace reminding him of SERVE’s relentless drive. He paused outside, taking in the morning air—a blend of exhaust, coffee, and the faint aroma of freshly baked bread.

On the horizon, SERVE’s headquarters loomed like a monument to ambition, its chrome logo catching the early sunlight. The building radiated power, a constant reminder of the opportunity awaiting him.

Matt navigated the bustling sidewalks, his stride purposeful as the city’s energy coursed through him. The diversity of faces and stories around him was invigorating, a stark departure from the sleepy streets of his past. The SERVE building grew larger with each step, its sharp, gleaming edges embodying the cutting-edge innovation it represented. When the glass doors slid open, a wave of cool, sterile air swept over him, grounding him in the present. The lobby was a study in precision—minimalist design, sleek surfaces, and an undercurrent of quiet efficiency.

The receptionist, a composed man with a practiced smile, acknowledged Matt’s arrival with a nod. After confirming his appointment, he gestured toward a row of plush seats. Matt joined a small group of hopeful candidates, each lost in their own thoughts. The air buzzed with a mixture of determination and unease, their faces betraying traces of the same excitement Matt felt. He couldn’t help but overhear snippets of conversation—whispers about SERVE’s groundbreaking projects and the mysterious fate of employees who excelled.

The walls of the lobby were adorned with striking images of SERVE employees clad in sleek, branded latex suits, interacting seamlessly with drones. The scenes were captivating, equal parts aspirational and uncanny. Matt had read about the conversion process, the transformation of employees into drones—a melding of humanity and technology. Now, faced with the visual reality of it, the allure was undeniable. There was power in surrendering individuality to become part of something greater, something transcendent.

As he sat, Matt’s excitement grew. SERVE wasn’t just a job; it was a gateway to transformation, a chance to be part of a world where obedience wasn’t just expected—it was celebrated. He straightened his tie, his resolve solidifying as the minutes ticked by. This was his moment, and he was ready to embrace it.

At 9:25 AM, the doors to the inner sanctum of SERVE’s headquarters parted, and a middle-aged man with a gleaming bald head emerged. He was dressed impeccably in a form-fitting latex shirt and trousers that reflected the lobby’s artificial light, the material stretching tightly over his muscular frame. Despite the air-conditioned chill, beads of sweat glistened on his forehead and the back of his neck. His shoes, a mirror to his attire, clicked sharply against the marble floor as he approached. His tie, also made of the same shiny material, fluttered slightly with each step, the only indication that he was, indeed, human.

Matt's eyes followed the man as he approached, the clack of his shoes punctuating the silence like a metronome. The man’s gaze swept over the candidates before settling on him, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he had found what he was looking for. The man’s expression was unreadable. But something in his posture—the way his shoulders squared and his chest puffed—conveyed authority and confidence.

The latex-clad figure offered a firm handshake. "Good morning, Matthew," he said, his voice a low purr that seemed to resonate through the very fabric of the lobby. "I'm Alex, your interviewer for today. You must be quite the eager bee to arrive so early."

Matt felt a rush of heat to his cheeks at the compliment. He took Alex's hand, noticing the strength behind the man's grip. "Just eager to make a good impression," he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. Alex's attire was indeed striking—his latex ensemble fitting like a second skin, emphasizing his toned physique. The way the material shimmered in the light made him seem almost superhuman, a living embodiment of SERVE's ethos of power and efficiency.

They walked side by side down the corridor, the sound of their shoes a rhythmic echo. The latex against the marble was a symphony of squeaks and taps, a sensual soundtrack to the otherwise clinical environment. Alex's stride was fluid, his hips rolling with an allure that was difficult to ignore. His confidence was palpable, and it was clear that he reveled in the attention his outfit drew from both the interviewees and the staff that passed by. The other candidates couldn't help but glance up, their curiosity piqued by the interplay of sex appeal and authority.

The interview room was stark white, with chrome fixtures and a single round table in the center. Alex gestured for Matt to sit in the ergonomic chair across from him. The room felt smaller than it should have, the walls seeming to close in as the door slid shut with a hiss. The chair was cold, and the room was calming.

Alex leaned back, his latex outfit whispering against the chair, his arms folded over his chest. "So, Matthew," he began, his voice like gravel, "why do you want to work for SERVE?"

Matt took a deep breath, his heart racing. This was his chance to articulate his dreams and ambitions. "I've always been fascinated by the integration of human and machine," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "The idea of becoming a drone, a cog in the wheel of something so much larger than myself, it's… intoxicating."

Alex's expression remained unchanged, his eyes piercing as he studied Matt intently. "You understand that the process of becoming a drone is not for the faint of heart," he said, his voice a low rumble. "It's a journey of dedication, discipline, and ultimately, transformation. The path to conversion is not one that can be rushed or taken lightly."

Matt nodded, his throat dry. "I'm aware of the commitment required," he managed to say, his voice a tad shakier than he'd have liked. "I've read about the training, the conditioning, and the final procedure. I'm ready for whatever it takes to serve the hive."

Alex leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his hands steepled in front of him. The latex of his shirt stretched, outlining the contours of his biceps. "What is it that draws you to this life?" he asked, his eyes searching. "What do you seek to leave behind?"

Matt swallowed, his palms slick with anticipation. "My hometown," he began, "was a place of stagnation, a pond where ideas and dreams went to die. I crave the rush of innovation, the thrill of being part of something that shapes the future." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "And…I want to be part of something so much larger than myself, to feel that unity of purpose."

Alex nodded thoughtfully. "Your desire to escape your past is commendable, Matthew," he said, his voice like a gentle caress. "But to truly serve the hive, you must be willing to shed the last vestiges of your old life. Your family, your friends, your past… they will become irrelevant. Tell me, have you ever felt truly alone?"

Matt's gaze drifted to the floor as he considered the question. "I was abandoned by my family when I was 18," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "They couldn't accept who I was." The words hung in the air, a silent confession of pain and rejection. "I've been on my own since then, supporting myself through university. I've learned to survive, but I crave more than mere existence."

Alex leaned in slightly, his expression a mix of empathy and curiosity. "Abandonment is a powerful motivator," he said, his eyes never leaving Matt's. "It can either break you or forge you into something stronger. Tell me, what did it do to you?"

Matt took a moment to gather his thoughts. The memory of his family's rejection was a raw wound, but it had also been the catalyst for his relentless drive. "It made me self-reliant," he said, his voice gaining strength. "It taught me that if I wanted to succeed, I had to do it on my own terms. I worked multiple jobs to put myself through university. I studied hard, graduated with honors. But most importantly, it made me crave belonging, to be part of something where I could truly make a difference."

Alex's smile grew, a knowing glint in his eye. "Ah, the sweet taste of potential," he murmured, his gaze lingering on Matt's face. "We do appreciate ambition here at SERVE." He leaned back in his chair, his latex shirt creaking as he folded his arms over his chest. "Very well, I can see that you're eager to prove yourself. We'll start you on a probationary period. You'll begin as a janitor, but if you show promise, the hive will embrace you and guide you toward your true calling."

Matt's stomach plummeted. A janitor? That wasn't what he had envisioned when he thought about joining SERVE. But he knew he couldn't let this setback deter him. He nodded, forcing a smile. "I'm ready for whatever it takes," he said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

Alex's smile grew broader, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. "Excellent," he said, his tone warm and approving. "Your dedication is commendable. Be here at 6 AM sharp on Monday. You'll be provided with your uniform then. And remember, Matthew, once you're in the uniform, you are a part of the hive. You will only wear it here, even during breaks. It is a symbol of your commitment to SERVE. Do you understand the gravity of this?"

Matt nodded, trying to suppress his apprehension. "I understand," he said firmly. "I'll be here."

[gabessquishytum]

Kinda a weird thing to notice but you realize modern media or at least the ones I got to see don't show people sweat stains. No pervy reason(not that there's anything wrong with that) but everything is so perfect and airbrushed now v old stuff. Like even in those days you got makeup steroids whatever but at least you get something as banal and human as seeing someone actually glisten with sweat and get it soaking through their clothes instead of an artfully misted dewy skinned ab shot of someone working out

That got me thinking of Hob and how his taste might be like. This boy went through all kinds of beauty standards, maybe he struggles to find modern people attractive. Beautiful, certainly, but in the way a doll is beautiful. not in the way flesh and blood is beautiful. Everything's uncanny valley to a medieval peasant. Complexion too flawless, hair too shiny, features too symmetrical, odours too clean, limbs too hairless.

Conversely other people find Dream uncanny valley while Hob doesn't. Mostly. Smtg smtg everyone is beautiful but no one is horny? But Hob sees Dream and just. His hair looks a little greasy like what people had before shampoo. His clothes, Hob knows that textile, it's something old that's long been replaced by another easily mechanized weave. His boots and belt looked like what a 19th century leatherworker would make. And he's more used to Dream's brand of Endless uncanny valley than the modern world's.

Hob looks at Dream and sees his life.

MMMM yes interesting. I feel like the irony is because Hob doesn't age, HE'S always getting asked if he's had work done, what skincare does he use, etc. In reality he's looking around wondering when everyone got so YOUNG and PRETTY. In the old days people aged and weathered and sadly just fuckin died, you know? And if they used makeup it was quite likely to be some kind of awful deadly chemical. Hob is honestly just still adjusting to the way people can modify themselves to their own tastes these days. He'll get used to it eventually! But by the time he does, time and humanity will have moved onto the next thing!

So yeah, he does love that Dream is a lil greasy. A lil sticky. Seeing him is like putting on a favourite old shirt and finally feeling comfortable again. And it's actually all quite sexy to Hob? Like, he had his sexual awakening in the 14th century, so deep down the things that he likes and his libido all kind of links back to that time and place. The fact that Dream smells a bit like smoke and sheep's wool? That turns Hob on. He's like a horny teenager all over again when he looks down and sees that Dream is wearing boots just like he, his brothers and his da used to wear.

Dream just gets him going like no 21st century porn star can. Hob would rather fuck his weird gremlin man than literally anyone on earth.

[meenawrites]

What are your Ronal and Spider headcanons? : 3

Can't believe I didn't see this until now!!!

Thank you SO MUCH for asking!

I think I've talked about this a little bit before, but I'll reiterate a few things.

I think Ronal's experience with the Sully's and then the RDA have deeply changed her and would have a great effect on how she would view/interact with Spider.

I think she would be incredibly wary of him at first, ready to jump at any reason to drive him away. But I think that instinct would be cut short or at least dampened by seeing how Kiri interacts with him. Kiri loves him fiercely and I think that would be very transparent in how she interacts with Spider. We got a brief view in ATWOW of Ronal recognizing and acknowledging Kiri's connection with Eywa, so I'm sure she would take Kiri's appraisal of Spider into great consideration.

I think she would be more open to him because of that.

Additionally, let's remember that Spider is a kid, probably not much older than her own children, he's small as well compared to them, and he speaks fluent Na'vi. Most everything about the way he acts and speaks is very Na'vi, and that definitely wouldn't escape her sharp senses.

Basically I'm saying all this because this is how I rationalize her coming to accept Spider and maybe eventually adopt him, especially after being informed of or noticing his lack of parents in any way, shape, or form, and how oddly independent he is.

So headcanons for Ronal and Spider:

I think she would definitely do a lot of self-care with Spider. Like she would take care of his hair for him, actually teach him what hairstyles worked with his hair type and what oils to use to make it shine or protect it from the seawater.

After noticing how burnt and dry his skin is getting from constant sun exposure, I'd imagine she'd freak out a little bit because that doesn't really happen to Na'vi. She'd probably be fussing over him and demanding someone summon Norm quite angrily because she's upset about lacking so much knowledge about her new human son. Then, after hearing about the problem and maybe insisting that Norm or some other scientist give her a whole picture of human anatomies and limitations on Pandora, she would use her experience and knowledge as Tsahik to concoct creams or oils that will protect Spider's skin from the sun and keep it moisturized and hydrated and take care of his burns.

Ronal seems like the type of person who would really enjoy silent quality time with her kids. I feel like she and Spider would sit and do crafts together in silence, like weaving nets or shawls, carving songcord beads, preparing meals, etc. I imagine she'd be quite impressed with what Spider's small fingers can do and how precise he can be. She'd probably wear something he made and kind of wait to receive compliments about the fine craftsmanship and just grin internally.

I think Ronal's love language isn't as much overt physical affection. I feel like she'd just be the type to be very observant and just appear with what you need. Like your stomach growled? Instantly has a plate of fruit for you. You look a little cold? A shawl is wordlessly draped over your shoulder. She'd be the type to nag that you're dressed too lightly or tsk at your hairstyle and immediately bring it upon herself to fix it herself. So I think she fusses over Spider a lot and he feels incredibly loved for it.

Not to say that she would never display physical affection. I think she'd briefly squeeze Spider's shoulder when passing by him or ghosting a hand across his head or pushing his hair away from his face, etc. Grounding touches as well if he seems lost in his own mind or when she can tell he's beating himself up over something he shouldn't be.

Ronal would definitely give him a new name or additional name. I think Spider would keep Spider just because of how long he's been called that? And I think he likes it as well. I imagine if he didn't he would have picked out a brand new name for himself long ago. But maybe a middle name or bequeath him with her family name.

She's be SUPER protective of him, especially around Neytiri and Jake. Like she hears he's remotely in their vicinity and she is already on her way there with a snarl on her face.

I'm also still trying to figure out exactly what their dynamic would be like, but those are my current thoughts. If anyone has any other ones, please let me know!

[racfoam]

hi rac how r u???, i want to know if we could have a a jealousy scene???

I’m good, thank you!

Okay, about time I reveal another fic idea. Also, how dare you use Stitch against me? Look at his teary eyes, he’s so cute, how could I say no to Stitch?!

This is set in an older wizarding society, the time of kings and whatnot. Think about Merlin TV show era? Yeah, that one! Though magic isn't outlawed and the kingdom itself is magical, too. So, how about Voldemort is the dark wizard who takes over as king of the most powerful kingdom and takes the throne, and wants to marry Harry, who he’s keeping imprisoned in the castle?

Harry used to like balls. She always had her friends to dance with, but now there were no familiar, comforting faces of Hermione, Ron, Fred or George anywhere. Most of the faces were families of the dark magic Houses, all pureblood.

Then again, a ball celebrating the Dark Lord’s birthday wasn’t Harry’s idea of fun. Maybe that was the problem with this ball. It felt like it was held just for Voldemort to enjoy while everyone kisses his robes.

So, despite the beautiful green dress the tailoes weaved with magic, Harry shied away into the corners of the room, hoping to avoid dancing with anyone, including Voldemort.

Harry refused to believe Voldemort was human. No human had red, cat-like eyes, no human had slits for nostrils and no nose, and no human had a snake-like face. No human was hairless like he was. No human moved like him, either.

No, Voldemort couldn't be human. He was some half-thing, something between a skeleton, human and a snake. There was no other explanation.

The mere thought of Voldemort passed a terrible judder down Harry’s spine.

“Harry?”

Startled, Harry leapt.

The handsome face and grey eyes of Cedric Diggory stared back at her.

“Ce-Lord Diggory,” breathed Harry. “What're you doing here?”

“I was invited,” said Cedric. “Would've been rude to ignore summons from the king.”

The ugliest king in the history of kings. thought Harry bitterly, understanding between the lines. Voldemort would probably take offence and go to slaughter Cedric’s family.

“Cho and I married,” said Cedric, breaking the silence.

“That’s nice,” said Harry, trying to sound happy. She offered a polite, strained smile. She hasn't smiled except when going horse-riding around the estate with Hedwig, and it felt like she was pulling her muscles in the wrong directions. “Congratulations.”

At least you get to choose. Voldemort will probably marry me off to a dark magic House when he gets bored of tormenting me.

“Harriet.”

That voice froze the blood in Harry's veins. It came from behind her. Behind her stood a hooded, tall man, with eyes that glowed red in the shadow of the hood.

The air around Voldemort was dark, suffocating, his red eyes set on Cedric, staring down sharply at him.

Cedric bowed immediately. “My Lord. My congratulations on your birth day.”

“Lord Diggory,” greeted Voldemort calmly. “I remember. I remember everyone I invite into my home.”

Not your home, you thief.

Voldemort's fingers settled around Harry’s shoulder, possessive. They were bony, spindly, too long, but their touch was warm, burning like a brand. The hairs on Harry’s arms prickled.

“I hope you enjoy the festivities. I’m afraid I must steal dear Harriet away.”

Cedric nodded. Harry was impressed by how well he concealed his fear.

“It was nice to see you again, Lady Potter,” said Cedric. He bowed, adding to Voldemort, “My Lord.”

Voldemort hummed noncomitally. “Come, Harriet. Gift me with a dance.” With that same hand around her shoulder keeping her imprisoned and locked tight beside him, Voldemort pulled Harry away from the table, and through the crowd.

Harry wished she would just die already.

[madaboutmunson]

Eddie Month WIP

So my ambition for @eddiemonth is to use a brand new AU, and write a fic for each week, incorporating a prompt from each day into it. Can I do it? I hope so. Anyway I've decided to stick with Steddie (my beloved) buuuuut, the AU is going to by late 50's Chicago. I'll add some pics of my version of the guys below, and this is a chunk from my Week 1 fic, around the prompt 'Crush' I hope you like it!

Also massive thanks to @thefreakandthehair and @nostalgicbones for creating this event. I absolutely love Eddie, and am so excited to see what everyone creates for this month! ================================================

Stupid Cupid

Eddie hurriedly bustles his way past them, briskly walking away, and doesn't look back. Not even once, as his pulse thunders in his ears. The city seems to swell and contract as the anxiety starts to weave its way into him, and he might have walked right on by the grocery store if not for the uneven sidewalk.

He manages to get his hands in front of him, preventing his face from meeting the pavement and scrambles to his feet.

“What? Not even a postcard?” A thick Chicago accent rings out. Eddie starts to feel the defensiveness rise in him. He’s going to give this joker a piece of his mind. It's only his first day here, and already, it's going to hell. It's a stupid joke, anyway, which makes no sense at all because he didn't trip. He fell. Couldn’t this moron even see that? He dusts off his new clothes and notices a small tear in the knee. And that might be the final straw. Eddie screws up his face in rage. Fists clenched at his sides, one finger extended, ready to point right at this guy.

“No! Not even-” Eddie begins angrily as he turns to the voice. But all language and oxygen leave him, and all he can do is take one gulp of an inhale like a human goldfish.

Standing in front of Eddie right now is something he can barely comprehend. A miracle has occurred, and it doesn't seem like the rest of the world has noticed because it's carrying on like this isn’t even happening. He can vaguely hear the cars and the shouts of others, but they are all starting to dwindle. It was like someone was turning the volume down on planet Earth, and all he could hear was his own heartbeat and breathing.

Then, almost like a vignette is placed over his vision, blurring and darkening the edges, he can only focus on one thing.

The man of Eddie’s dreams.

Physically, at least.

He is right there.

Like the great animators in the sky plucked him out of his mind and drew him into existence.

Had he not put his hand out in time? Was he, in reality, currently knocked out by the fall, and that's why he can see this guy now?

He’s about the same height as Eddie. His hair is neatly cropped, not shoved away and hidden under a hat like his own. It’s side-parted, with a perfect swoop of brown, neatly combed and styled hair. Save for a few strands that hang over his forehead, rebelling against the pomade. His light brown eyes are shaped with a slight slope downwards, giving them a natural, hooded, adorable sadness, just like Elvis himself. But these are larger, which made them infinitely easier to get lost in. But there isn’t an ounce of sadness in the rest of that face as a cocky open-mouthed smile spreads across it. Tucked in the corner of his lips is a toothpick that rolls, as his tongue is idly toying with from inside his mouth as he looks Eddie up and down. 

Then there are those rose-blushed lips of his. They looked so soft, in direct opposition with the perfectly chiselled jaw they rested above. And all of this with a backdrop of olive skin littered with beauty marks. As if this guy needed any more indicators of how beautiful he was. Jesus.

Eddie dares to give him a rapid look up and down, and it is also awful news because not only did they give him the face of an angel, but they had to provide him with a body that would launch a million classical sculptors across all time into action. His shoulders are broad and sit atop two very pleasantly muscular arms. The white cotton t-shirt embraces them, one tighter than the other as it's rolled a little higher to hold his pack of smokes. The fabric stretches over his chest to reveal the mounds and dips of an anatomical landscape that Eddie is sure he would happily sit and admire for longer than any national landmark this fair country had to offer. Then the killing blow by this everyday garment is struck by how it falls and clings to his stomach, revealing he’s even got a little slightly soft tummy on him. Eddie is starting to feel light-headed. This cannot be real.

Then Eddie notices something else, he’s wearing an apron, and in his arms is a crate of apples. He fucking works here. Oh god. Oh, god, no! Eddie starts to feel like he's overheating, and he’s eyelids flutter unintentionally.

“You ok dere, buddy?” The man’s smile and amusement take an eighty per cent plummet as they look over Eddie with concern.

He’s overwhelmed by everything happening right now, the whole day of mistakes leading up to it, questioning if it was even the right choice to come to the city in the first place. If all of these things were glaring warning signs, pointing him to go back home to Hawkins, stop chasing stupid dreams, and get a job with his Uncle Wayne at the factory. And this…this man at his local store of all places spelt trouble for him. He wasn’t good at hiding his thoughts or feelings, no matter how hard he tried. 

That was it decided. He would turn around now, go pack, and go home. This was a stupid idea. Eddie feels a tightness across his shoulders start to spread, his palms heat up, and he realises he’s been staring into space for the last few seconds. 

He tries to run, but his legs suddenly feel like lead, and though he’s stopped, the world spins around a few more times. Instead of the street being in his eye line, the horizon starts to fall, and all he can see is the sky before he feels his back hit something, but it's not hard like the ground. Soon, the horizon returns, as does the street and the face of an angel, moving him to sit on the ground outside the store, next to a pyramid of oranges.

“I need ya to sit right here, ok buddy. I’m gonna get ya some water, alright?” the angel’s mouth moves, and Eddie watches it seriously to make sure he can hear every one of his precious words.

He pats him on the shoulders, steps toward the store door, and pauses before looking back and tilting his head, “Whats ya name?”

He is still a little dizzy, but he knows the answer to that question, “Eddie.” he replies quickly. 

The man smiles hugely and repeats his name like he’s testing it out. He places his toothpick behind his ear, “I’m Stefano, yous can call me Steve. Most do,” he gives him a little two-finger wave and disappears inside the store.

[valorxdrive]

Dark and inky tendrils are seized by an all encompassing light -- not for desire to banish, rather... to embrace. Kairi holds her rampaging hero against her chest, giving the boy a loving sizzle from their contrasting matters. He's so close to her appetizing heart, but it's not fear that makes it run fast...

He should know, by the way her nails gently weave through his hair.

"I got you, silly."

[ from @maregiis ]

Allowing chaos to become unbridled and unchained, reveling in this primal force to run rampant, grow and evolve. There was a sickeningly intoxicating rush that allowed him to turn his fields of battle into lifeless domains, into terraformed straits that only a natural disaster in human skin could rightfully reap. While that focus always managed careful aim, those listed as foes to Sora on the other hand..

They managed to find a taste of the crawling chaos returned to them, a rare flourish of horror that doesn't come by banishment by light.

Rather, it's through darkness does he devour, and newest breached heights were finding trouble in trying to retain that focus. Leveling his control to normal levels, to resist the tempting swing that each tendril managed to guide him towards, letting him have an innate sense for the many foes burgeoning within grim hearts or through the shadows of a larger collective, a true foe of his. Before this search made with instinct was truly about to begin.

It's the brightest light that managed to find him above all else, allowing her magnanimity to draw him into a hidden heaven etched into the legends of Sora. A realm where the light didn't incinerate or cast away, rather, there was such a selfish need to let light and darkness find itself weaving itself together, that initial taste being etched into their very beings, as the savory radiance made his shadowy form shudder momentarily in what looks like euphoria.

Did she realize just how delicious she looks to the most instinctive parts of Sora? To the most conscious? The way her heart holds vigil as irresistible light, a force that finds pride in providing a siren call to the poles that endlessly attracted each other in boundless chaos.

"......." His voice was distorted, woven into an ancient tongue that carelessly sounds feral above all else, the sensation of being wrapped in the protection of her arms capturing his attention, leaving him adjusted towards the sanctity of cloth and skin, that invisible beyond as the heightened pace of what rushes through her veins wasn't the sole factor that captured his attention.

Oh no, her Heart of Hearts was jubilant in that loving brand of mischief.

Within moments those dark hands would reach forth, sweeping along Kairi's sides, providing appreciation for her physical form as those hands swept across her sides, burning this beautiful frame into memory before a demanding clasp of those hands seized at her hips. Unanimous agreement within had tore away any semblance of doubt or second guesses.

His. She was all his.

Slithering forth would be the joined union of those tendrils, carefully worked around her shoulders, another smoothing through glimmering, fiery hair as the secured possessively around her back. The way his Heart could draw how her heart sings being wrapped in his clutches, it only made that insatiable nature bare its eagerness as obsidian lips part, revealing those sharp fangs as guttural noise is worked from his being before he approaches.

Those fangs would mercilessly seize her chest, 'puncturing skin', letting that pressure linger as the invisible boundary he bites into was into that very force of light instead of flesh, letting a physical aspect play with the metaphysical as he'd grip the princess's heart within his teeth, holding oh so careful in the way he savors this treasure, how countless heavens try to describe themselves as this sublime taste, the sort that makes a satisfied growl follow in his entire being.

Yet none could compare to his Sea, his Kairi. He'd greedily drink while keeping her pressed flush against his frame.

Those powerfully growing shadows continued to expand.

@maregiis

[baciamihairextensions01]

Private Label Hair Weave: Building Your Own Brand

The beauty and haircare industry has seen tremendous growth in recent years, and one of the most popular products driving this expansion is hair weave extensions. Offering private label hair weave allows entrepreneurs, stylists, and salon owners to launch their own unique line of hair products without the complex process of manufacturing. Here’s an overview of private label hair weaves and how they can help build a successful hair business.

What is Private Label Hair Weave?

Private label hair weave products are extensions that are produced by a third-party manufacturer but sold under a retailer's brand name. Private labeling lets you create a unique product line, from high-quality human hair extensions to synthetic options, with custom branding, packaging, and product selection. This business model offers a streamlined path to market, giving you the flexibility to design a product that suits your brand’s style and customer preferences.

Benefits of Selling Private Label Hair Weaves

Brand Ownership Private labeling gives you complete control over branding. From choosing the logo and packaging to selecting hair textures and lengths, private label hair allows you to offer unique products that set your brand apart in a competitive market. This helps build brand recognition and customer loyalty, as customers associate your brand with the quality and style they desire.

Reduced Production and Startup Costs Developing a new hair product line from scratch can be costly and time-consuming. Private label solutions, however, reduce these barriers by allowing you to partner with an established manufacturer who manages production. This lets you focus on sales, marketing, and building your customer base without having to invest in factories, equipment, or raw materials.

Customization Options Private label hair providers often offer a range of customization options, including different textures, colors, and styles to align with your brand’s image. Whether your clientele prefers straight, wavy, or curly textures or specific colors and lengths, you can design a line that meets their needs. Customization helps create a personalized experience for customers, making them more likely to become repeat buyers.

Increased Profit Margins With private labeling, you have the opportunity to set your own prices, allowing for potentially higher profit margins. Since you’re building your own brand, you can position it as a premium line and price it accordingly. By building a loyal customer base, you can charge higher prices than generic hair products typically command.

Steps to Start a Private Label Hair Weave Business

Research and Select a Manufacturer Partnering with a reputable hair manufacturer is crucial. Research potential suppliers, ask for samples, and review their quality standards, delivery times, and customization options. Look for manufacturers with a history of producing quality hair that can support your brand’s reputation.

Design Your Brand Decide on a brand name, logo, packaging, and overall aesthetic that represents your target market. You’ll also want to create a brand story and vision that resonates with customers.

Create a Product Line Work with your manufacturer to determine your product lineup. This includes choosing hair types (e.g., human or synthetic), textures, lengths, and colors. Having a diverse line that caters to different preferences can help you attract a broader customer base.

Market and Launch Use social media platforms, online marketplaces, and a branded website to introduce your products to potential customers. Highlight the quality and unique aspects of your line through social media campaigns, influencers, and testimonials.

Conclusion

Private label hair weave products provide an accessible path to launching a profitable beauty brand without manufacturing challenges. By choosing high-quality products, customizing your brand, and strategically marketing your line, you can create a successful hair business that resonates with customers and builds a strong presence in the competitive beauty industry.

For more info visit here:- best weft hair extensions australia

[ambitionslost]

full name Autumn Suzanne Westwood. age: Thirty-Seven born: November 20th, 1986. gender: Female. title(s): Ms. species: Human. height: 5ft 4 ½ ". hair | eyes: Dark brown | Green. occupation:Art Director blood type:O Positive fact: Autumn collects vintage postcards from around the world and has over 500 in her collection, dating back to the early 1900s. fact: Autumn’s an avid bird watcher and can identify over 200 species by their calls alone.

BIOGRAPHY 

Autumn Suzanne Westwood was born on November 20th, 1986, and grew up in a quiet, tree-lined suburb. From a young age, she was drawn to both art and nature. While other kids were playing sports or video games, Autumn could often be found sketching birds in her notebook or rearranging her room to create the perfect "atmosphere." Her early love for design and nature set the foundation for her creative and professional journey. Growing up in a household that encouraged self-expression, Autumn’s parents nurtured her artistic tendencies, allowing her to explore a wide range of creative outlets, from painting to photography. Her fascination with birds began during family hikes, where her keen ear started to differentiate the calls of the local species, sparking a lifelong passion for bird watching.

In high school, Autumn’s artistic talent began to take shape. She was known for her unique visual style in art classes, blending natural elements with bold, abstract designs. She was also the go-to person for designing posters and sets for school plays, which exposed her to the world of visual storytelling and gave her a taste of what it meant to direct the artistic vision of a larger project. Outside the classroom, her weekends were often spent with a camera, capturing birds in flight or the intricacies of their feathers, a hobby that allowed her to develop an eye for detail. It was clear to her teachers and peers that Autumn was destined for a career in the arts, and with their encouragement, she decided to pursue a degree in graphic design.

Autumn attended a prestigious art school, where she specialized in visual communication. During her college years, she expanded her skill set, studying everything from typography to digital media. She thrived in this creative environment, quickly rising to the top of her class. It was during an internship at a boutique design agency that she first encountered the world of art direction. The experience of leading a team and bringing her creative vision to life in a tangible way resonated with her deeply. After graduation, Autumn began working as a junior designer at a leading advertising agency, where her talent for merging natural beauty with sleek, modern design quickly gained her recognition.

As she climbed the ranks to become an Art Director, Autumn developed a niche for creating visually compelling campaigns for eco-conscious brands and luxury products. Her ability to tell stories through design, often inspired by the natural world she so loved, set her apart from her peers. Autumn became known for her sophisticated and thoughtful approach, always finding a way to weave beauty and meaning into her projects. Despite the fast-paced nature of the advertising world, she never lost touch with her love of nature. Even in her busiest moments, she made time for bird watching, often using the calming influence of nature to recharge her creativity. Her ability to balance these two passions has been a key factor in her professional success.

Today, Autumn Suzanne Westwood is a well-respected Art Director, known for her innovative vision and her ability to bring fresh, unique ideas to the table. She has worked with a wide range of clients, from sustainable fashion brands to tech start-ups, helping them develop strong visual identities. Outside of her professional life, she continues to indulge her love for bird watching, having identified over 200 species by their calls alone. She also maintains a collection of vintage postcards from around the world, another reflection of her appreciation for beauty and history. Through hard work, creativity, and a deep connection to the natural world, Autumn has crafted a life and career that seamlessly blend her personal passions with her professional pursuits.

PERSONALITY & TRAITS

Autumn Suzanne Westwood is a deeply observant and detail-oriented person, traits that have propelled her success as an Art Director. Her sharp eye for design and aesthetics often reveals itself in her ability to find beauty in the smallest of things, whether it’s the perfect color palette for a project or the subtle patterns on a bird's feathers. She’s methodical in her work, driven by a need for perfection, but always approaches projects with a collaborative spirit. Autumn thrives in environments where creativity flourishes, and she’s known for encouraging her team to push boundaries and explore bold ideas. While meticulous, she’s flexible and adaptable, knowing that true art often comes from experimentation and improvisation.

Outside of work, Autumn is equally passionate and curious. Her love of bird watching is a reflection of her patient and reflective nature; she can spend hours in quiet observation, attuned to the natural world around her. She balances this quiet introspection with an adventurous side, often traveling to remote locations to observe rare species or add new vintage postcards to her growing collection. Though she values solitude, Autumn also enjoys connecting with like-minded people who share her love for nature, art, and travel. With a grounded yet adventurous personality, she embodies a unique blend of creativity and mindfulness in both her professional and personal life.

[shawonbasar12]

Mercys Hair Extensions: Elevating Your Style with Premium Quality Hair

When it comes to enhancing your natural beauty and achieving the hair of your dreams, Mercys Hair Extensions offers an unparalleled solution. Whether you're looking to add volume, length, or a touch of glamour, our high-quality hair extensions are designed to meet all your styling needs. With a commitment to quality and customer satisfaction, Mercys Hair Extensions is a trusted name in the world of hair extensions.

Why Choose Mercys Hair Extensions?

Choosing the right hair extensions is a crucial decision, and at Mercys Hair Extensions, we strive to provide the best products and services to our customers. Here’s why our brand stands out:

1. Premium Quality Hair Extensions

Mercys Hair Extensions uses only the finest quality hair, ensuring that our products not only look natural but also last longer. Our extensions are made from 100% Remy human hair, which means they are soft, shiny, and tangle-free. Remy hair is the highest quality available because the cuticles remain intact, ensuring a smooth, natural look.

2. Wide Variety of Styles and Textures

At Mercys Hair Extensions, we understand that every woman has a unique style and texture. That's why we offer a wide range of hair extensions to suit different hair types and preferences. Whether you prefer straight, wavy, or curly, we have the perfect match for your hair. Our extensions come in various lengths and shades, allowing you to customize your look effortlessly.

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4. Affordable Luxury

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Types of Hair Extensions Offered by Mercys Hair Extensions

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. Here’s a guide to help you pick the best hair extensions from Mercys Hair Extensions:

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4. Regular Maintenance

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Elevate Your Look with Mercys Hair Extensions

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Visit Mercys Hair Extensions today to explore our collection and discover how we can transform your hair into a work of art. Let us help you elevate your style and boost your confidence with hair that looks as good as it feels.

[tacitusauxilium]

Enchanted to Meet You / Chapter 16 / Look What You Made Me Do

The myth about the red string of fate states that the gods tie an invisible red string to the pinky fingers of people who are destined to meet and be together in life.

The red string can become tangled, stretched, or contracted, but it can never break, representing the idea that fate cannot be altered.

Eventually, the red thread will tighten to bring the destined partners together, regardless of time, place, or circumstances. The red thread symbolizes human connections, friendship, family, and true love.

A “what if” scenario — wouldn’t it be interesting to think that there was some invisible “red” string tying Fuuka and Shinjiro together? He tells the 2nd years about her, she gets saved, and he teaches her how to cook. So, she returns the favor little by little—eventually leading into her falling for him.

*previously called Unforeseen Circumstances*

🎵 The world moves on, another day another drama, drama

But not for me, not for me, all I think about is karma

And then the world moves on, but one thing's for sure

Maybe I got mine, but you'll all get yours🎵

November 21st

Junpei was sitting next to Chidori, chatting about how great the trip to Kyoto was. He even gave her a small present of snacks, brand new flowers, and a hair pin for her. Mitsuru was checking her phone for recent messages, looking up to see the door opening to the room and surprised to see Shinjiro coming into the room. He closed the door and turned to face the lovey dovey couple. His eyes were soft, gazing at the couple, until Shinjiro was called out by Mitsuru.

“Aragaki? What brings you here?” Mitsuru questioned, confusion weaved into her question as Shinjiro shrugged.

“Wanted to make sure her Persona wasn’t trying to kill her again.” He eyed the redhead in the bed who gave Shinjiro a returning glance. But instead of a death glare, it looked like she had a hint of worry and concern in her eyes. Shinjiro kept that thought to himself and turned back to face Mitsuru. “We can swap if you want. I heard that Odagiri is being a real dick again.”

Mitsuru sighed and pushed some stray hair out of her face. “I thought having Minato-san would help cool his temper, but ever since the incident in the boy’s bathroom with the cigarette butt found randomly, I’ve been bouncing back here and there after school.” She closed her phone and put it back in her skirt’s pocket. Mitsuru looked back at Junpei and Chidori, noticing they stopped taking and looked back at them.

God was it awkward.

“Hey, is everything okay, senpai?” Junpei cautiously asked, his hand gripping the railing separating him and Chidori.

Mitsuru nodded and got up from her chair. “Yes. I need to head back to school and deal with a small issue. Aragaki will be here to take my position until you leave, Iori.” She explained, her mind easily pushing Chidori and Junpei away and school issues popping back in her mind. “I am sure you will have no problems with this?”

Shinjiro sat down in Mitsuru’s seat and crossed his arms. A small huff and a nod. “Yeah yeah.”

Mitsuru grinned and left the room once she grabbed her school bag. Once the door was shut, Junpei looked over at Shinjiro. Shinjiro looked back at Junpei and carefully glared at him.

“Can I help you, Iori?”

“I, uh, am surprised Fuuka didn’t tag along.”

Shinjiro sighed and slightly rolled his eyes. “Just because we are dating doesn’t mean she’s a leech on me. We have our own separate lives.”

“Right right. Don’t shoot the messenger.” Junpei put his hands up, enticing a small laugh from Chidori. Shinjiro raised an eyebrow, noticing how easy it was for her to laugh at something Junpei said. Then again, Junpei was sort of humorous to the right people. And Chidori was one of those people.

“Chidori—” Shinjiro looked at the redhead and she stopped laughing immediately. “—how are you doing?”

Chidori was a bit surprised to see how human-like Shinjiro was acting. It took her a moment to reply as she put her hands in her lap and lowered her head. “I am well. Junpei brought more flowers for me—though, I think the vase is running out of water. Could you go fill the vase up, Junpei?” She looked up at him, batting her eyes at him. Shinjiro knew something was up immediately.

For someone who likes a guy, you don’t usher him out of the room unless it’s important. Something important to me. Fuck.

“Huh? They are?! I could have sworn I filled it up days ago…” Junpei stated, getting up and checking the vase and noting that she was right. “Well, I’ll be right back Chidorita.” He flashed a smile at her and was out of the room.

Chidori turned to face Shinjiro and deadpanned at him. “When Junpei leaves for tonight, get rid of those flowers.”

An eyebrow rose in confusion. “Why? Won’t he get suspicious of them disappearing? Iori isn’t that stupid.”

“I am going to die soon and so are you. You and I both know that.”

“I don’t need a constant reminder, you know.”

“Have you told Fuuka?”

Shinjiro felt his heart sank and turned his head. He was hiding his face and bit his lip. A sore spot.

“I see.” Chidori closed her eyes, taking a moment to catch her breath, and sighed. “Could you keep the flowers? Don’t throw them away.”

“Why?”

“Do you want to deal with the wrath of Fuuka and her love for flowers?”

“And how do you know she likes flowers?”

Chidori chuckled and touched her nose while she opened her eyes. “You smell like lavender.”

“In all my years of knowing you, which is like two or so, I’ve never seen you chuckle or smile. Damn, seems like Iori is doing the same thing to you as Fuuka is with me.”

Chidori’s lips went straight, erasing the trace of a smile on her face, and carefully looked at Shinjiro with delicate eyes. Those eyes were filled with anxiety.

“She’s made you feel alive. And that you don’t want to die, not yet. Or ever. You are attached.”

“…we are fucked, aren’t we?”

“Very much so. Are you going to be able to handle it?”

Shinjiro put his hands in his pocket, trying to hide how sweaty his hands felt all of a sudden. Fuuka made Shinjiro feel things he has never felt before—as if they had a hidden language between each other that no one can understand. And he couldn’t explain it to anyone except maybe Junpei. And Shinjiro damn well wasn’t going to talk about romance and couples shit to him.

He opened and closed his mouth, unable to produce a sentence.

Am I going to handle this? Fuck it. If Chidori can, so can I. Right?

“When you tell Iori that you aren’t going to live longer, then I’ll tell Fuuka. Deal?”

“…Shinjiro, I promise.”

—————

November 22nd

Shinjiro just stared at the flowers in a makeshift mason jar on his desk. Like it was a constant reminder from Chidori to make sure he kept his promise. He groaned and wished he could choke the flowers or break the stems but couldn’t. God, he could see Fuuka looking at the flowers and sobbing at them. Shinjiro shook his head and walked out of his room. He felt like he was suffocating.

The moment he closed his door, the Dark Hour occurred and it made him jump a little. He had no idea he was in his room for so long, contemplating killing flowers and the many ways he could break Fuuka’s heart. He felt sick having to hurt the one he loved. Of course, thinking of Fuuka lead to said person appearing.

“I apologize for waking you up, everyone, but please head to the command room. And hurry.”

Fuck. That’s not good.

Everyone grabbed their equipment and made their way to the fourth floor. Akihiko, Mitsuru, and Fuuka were already there. And Lucia was already called for.

“What’s going on?” Minato asked, his hands in his pockets to hide his emotions.

Mitsuru crossed her arms and turned to the group. “Yamagishi sensed Persona users. Outside of Tartarus.”

“Wait. Other Persona users…you don’t mean—?” Ken gulped as Akihiko nodded to confirm his suspicions.

“Strega. Alive and well.” Akihiko put his hand on his hip and looked at Fuuka. It was odd seeing her focus so hard on something she was familiar with sensing.

“Shit.” Shinjiro gritted his teeth and leaned on his ax. “The Dark Hour is still here and those bastards are still alive. This is not good, Aki.”

Minako bit her bottom lip and tugged on the stray rope string on her naginata. Now she felt her nerves hitting her stomach and all at once. “Why does nothing ever go right with us?” She whispered softly.

Akihiko asked Fuuka if she could sense who was there. She gulped and looked up at Akihiko and the others. “Well, I only sensed one, which is good. But…” Fuuka turned her torso and face towards Junpei carefully. “…I thought she was in the hospital.”

Everyone turned on a dime to face Junpei as he felt his face turning red, including his ears. “Huh—? What?”

“No…” Fuuka gasped, panting as she felt her face grimacing in pain “…she’s… she’s inside—!” Fuuka screamed as she gripped the sides of her head. It felt like her head was being squished all around. Shinjiro’s eyes widen as he pushed past Minako and Akihiko, his hands on Lucia’s protective shell.

“Fuuka! What’s going on?” Shinjiro asked, pleading and hoping it wasn’t who he thought it was.

“Long time no see.”

Goddamn it Chidori!

“Chidori!?” Junpei cried out as he panicked and walked towards her voice, as if he was trying to find her. Shinjiro wasn’t even sure if he said his thought out loud or not, but he gritted his teeth and kept his eyes on Fuuka.

Mitsuru’s eyes grew and turned to look back at Fuuka and then back to the ceiling. “She can hijack the transmission!?”

“I can’t stand the sight of you all anymore. So, I’ve decided to get rid of you. Come to me…”

Fuuka gasped as she put her hands to her chest to calm her beating heart. “Ngh…”

“Fuuka-chan!” Yukari called out, gripping her bow in anger and watching Junpei look so conflicted. His feelings were all over his face.

“I’m…okay…” Fuuka assured, turning her eyes to Shinjiro and the others—relief flooded their faces as Yukari turned to face Junpei. She confirmed she was as she looked at Shinjiro. “I promise.”

“I don’t get this—wasn’t she in the hospital? Do you know what’s going on, Junpei?” Yukari asked while Junpei’s eyebrows were furrowed. He had to grit his teeth in frustration. He wasn’t happy that Chidori hijacked Fuuka’s transmission, but this was confusing to him. That something didn’t felt right. “Junpei?”

“Shut up! I don’t know what the hell is going on!” He retorted, his arms shooting outward and his frustration was unleashed. “Goddammit!” Junpei yelled and darted out of the room faster than anyone can stop him.

“Hey—! Junpei!” Yukari called out and turned to face him but the door was left ajar and she almost wanted to chase him. “Come back!”

Minato turned to put a hand on Yukari and his head swiveled to face the others. “We can’t let him go alone. It’s dangerous.”

“I agree. However,” Mitsuru raised a finger, “this is most certainly a trap. We have to be cautious since it’s Strega we are dealing with. We can’t simply ignore them. We might be able to gain some insight of the ongoing situation.”

Everyone nodded as Mitsuru commanded everyone to head out. Fuuka released Lucia and sighed heavily. It felt like an elephant was sitting on her chest—making it hard to breathe and hard to think straight. All she could feel was the pain in her chest and Chidori’s love for Junpei. Chidori wasn't sure if she did this on purpose or not—and gods above, Fuuka’s heart ached.

It makes sense as to why Junpei-kun never wanted to do anything with me. Chidori-san commanded all of his attention. Did Shinjiro know that and that’s why he was trying to push me away from Junpei-kun?

Fuuka shook her head, knowing she didn’t have the time to over think. Especially with Strega in the front of their minds. “Be careful everyone. I only sensed one of them, but the other two could be nearby!” Fuuka called out as she followed behind Shinjiro with Koromaru following behind her for safety.

—————

“Chidori! Talk to me! What the hell is going on?!” Junpei gasped, trying to catch his breath as he finally made it to Tartarus with Chidori right in front of the entrance. Her back was to him, keeping a protective wall up. She turned on her heels slowly while giving Junpei a harsh glare.

“Listen—I know I’m not the brightest bulb, and I know there is so many things I’ve done wrong. But, this is wrong! We should never fight each other!” Junpei exclaimed, his hands shooting out past his sides, his palms opened wide. He took a step forward.

Fuuka gasped as the others reached Junpei seconds later. “Junpei-kun—! Watch out!”

Junpei moved a couple feet backwards as he saw Chidori’s ax slashing past the front of his face, barely avoiding him. He panted, his eyes wide with surprise and fear.

“Whoa! Hey!” Junpei kept his eyes trained on Chidori, making sure she wasn’t going to pull the same trick on him again. “You could have killed someone!”

Chidori tsked, grabbing her ax and shifting the weight in her hand. Junpei looked at her with soft, worried eyes. “Chidori… why?” Junpei asked, his voice aching with pain and frustration, wanting to know the reasoning behind her attack.

Shinjiro reached for his ax, knowing that this wasn’t going to be good. “I have a feeling she isn’t going down without a fight.” Ken looked up at him and slightly frowned.

“Why do you say that, Aragaki-san?”

“She wants to eliminate the one person who has caused her pain. …she wants to get rid of Iori because she is feeling something she never wants to feel. And it’s bringing her back to the harsh truth of reality.”

“Love.” Fuuka answered, even though Shinjiro never brought up a question. Shinjiro tsked lowly and shook his head. Fuuka looked up from Chidori and Junpei to Shinjiro. She opened her mouth and closed it quickly.

Does Shinjiro…regret feeling like this with me, too? Does he have so much hatred inside him too? Will he attack me to get rid of me—?

Akihiko began to run forward which ushered everyone else to follow him. Fuuka pushed her thoughts down again, definitely not ready to confront them, and follow swiftly. Because speaking them out loud might reveal the truth.

“Junpei, you got to back down. Chidori isn’t going to listen to anyone, including you.” Akihiko put his fists up, which made Junpei turn to face him and the other members of SEES. His lips were trembling, as he turned to face Fuuka, her eyes soft and full of worry. Junpei looked as if he was going to cry and panic. And Fuuka knew she had to jump in and be a doting friend.

“I know how you feel, Junpei-kun. I do. But your safety is of utmost importance! Please, stand down!” Fuuka clasped her hands together, her voice begging for him to back away, to not get involved. Even if it was already too late.

In the blink of an eye, Chidori yanked her evoker from behind her back and held it out for everyone to see. Shinjiro cursed as he hated that he was right, again. “Minako—” He turned to the crimson hair fool and eyed her. “Get Iori out of here!”

“Right!” She quickly nodded as Yukari and Minako tried to pull Junpei away as Chidori brought the evoker to her chin.

“Medea…” Chidori spoke, her voice raspy as she was trying to keep up her appearance—not wanting to cry and get upset.

Shinjiro, along with Akihiko and Minato, took the forefront of the group. Mitsuru joined hesitantly, with Aigis, Ken, and Koromaru behind them for back up. Chidori was strong, but knowing what she was capable of this was going to be difficult. Fuuka called Lucia out in the background while she began to sense what Chidori was weak to, if anything.

“This isn’t where I belong. I’ve known that from the very beginning!” Chidori called out, moving her ax from her right hand to her left, and then shifting it back. It didn’t feel comfortable and she started to sway slowly.

“Chidori!” Junpei cried out as he gripped his fists, trying to fight back Minako and Yukari’s grip on him. “What in the hell has gotten into you!?”

Chidori began to cast maragidyne on the members of SEES that stand before her. Mitsuru was barely able to dodge it, sweating rolling down her face as she didn’t realize that Chidori was quick to find weaknesses. Mitsuru bit her bottom lip and knew she would have to be careful.

“You okay, Mitsuru?” Akihiko called out after he threw a punch at Chidori that her Persona blocked, even if she did move back a few feet.

“Y-yes—she seems to be regenerating her energy quicker than I thought.” Mitsuru replied, pushing herself up from the ground and back on her feet. Chidori caught this moment of weakness to send an Agidyne towards Junpei, Yukari, and Minako.

Junpei stared at the fire, his lips trembling as Yukari called out Isis to block the attack. Once the smoke cleared, she quickly used a Mediarama on everyone as she turned her attention to the Magician.

“Junpei, are you okay?” Yukari asked, noting that Junpei was just staring at Chidori and he nodded, but then shook his head after letting Yukari’s question repeat in his head over and over. His eyes were wide and staring in pure disbelief.

Chidori huffed as she swung her ax towards Shinjiro as he took his own two handed ax and swung to hit it back towards her. Shinjiro watched as she pulled it back into her hand with the chain in the other free hand. It looked like she was barely breaking a sweat. “Fucking hell—what’s going on in her head!?”

“Ha. Takaya was right. You all are a nusiance.” Chidori reached for her evoker again, attempting to call Medea out once more.

“Artemisia!” Mitsuru cried out, using her evoker to call her own Persona out to do a Bufudyne on Chidori. It was one of the spells that were going through but barely making a dent on her. Chidori winced as she almost dropped her evoker. “Ice spells are going through, but it isn’t strong enough.”

Minato pushed some hair out of his face, trying to sense if there was anything he could see as a weakness. The ax wasn’t heavy or strong—just fast like a dagger. “If we take out the ax, we can handle her Persona. Or, we could just attack her…”

“Then we brute strength the common sense back into her!” Shinjiro pointed out, taking his ax and running up towards her, swinging his ax at her and doing a good amount of damage to her.

“Hermes!”

Shinjiro turned on his heels to see Junpei’s Persona coming after Shinjiro as he had to leap to the side and slide out of the way. He gritted his teeth and glared at Junpei. “What the fuck man?!”

“Don’t hurt her!”

“What the hell do you want me to do, Iori? Stop babying her and let her fight—!”

“I don’t know…” Chidori put her hands to her ears and dropped her evoker. Her hands shaking and her eyes wide as tears began to drop down her cheeks. “I don’t know what to do anymore…! Junpei…!” Everyone stopped and stared at Chidori for a brief moment while keeping their guard up.

“Chidori…” Junpei whispered her name as Minako looked back at Chidori, noticing she was barely able to land attacks on anyone. Agidynes being absorbed by Minato, her ax barely going far enough to hit anyone, as if she just lost the will to fight. Minako pulled Yukari’s hands down from Junpei as he just stood there. Chidori was breaking down and losing her mind.

“Th-this hurts…! I can’t breathe—I’m scared…!” She cried out, watching as everyone was putting down their weapons as she fell to her knees. “Jun…pei…!” Chidori’s Persona disappeared as she dropped her evoker.

Junpei pushed past Minako and Yukari as he ran up to Chidori and landed on his knees. Junpei carefully put his hands on her shoulders and gripped them gently. Fuuka recalled Lucia and moved up to the group and watched as Chidori was doting on her. Her heart ached badly—Fuuka closed her eyes, flashes of the memories those two spoke, as if a silent film was playing in her mind. She moved her hand to her chest and gripped it tightly.

“Don’t touch me…” Chidori’s words were soft and breathless.

“Chidori…please tell me why you are doing this.” Junpei asked tenderly, trying his best to stay calm even though he was feeling anger and disappointment. Like he was chiding his child for doing something bad.

“What I fear most…isn’t death. What I fear most…” Chidori looked up at him, panting and desperation in her eyes. “…is attachment . When I do, I become horrified by the thought of loss. My life, possessions, everything! That is why we lived in the moment. Junpei…” She reached for his hands and gripped them tightly. “…you have brought me pain I NEVER wanted to feel.”

“Wh-what…?”

Chidori looked around at the members of SEES watching them. She didn’t care as she only wanted to see and be with Junpei. Attachment was her one weakness. She eyed Shinjiro and Fuuka. A hint of remorse and a hint of jealously.

“Junpei, when I’m with you, I fear everything. I fear loss, I fear death…I fear that my time with you will end! That’s why I—!”

Fuuka gasped as she turned to look at the entrance of Tartarus. “Oh no. I sense—!”

Shinjiro knew what that meant. He gripped his ax as Mitsuru turned to look at Fuuka, asking her: “What is it?”

“It’s the other members of Strega!”

They appeared out of the entrance of Tartarus, which made everyone become more aware of them as Junpei focused on Chidori at the moment. Takaya began clapping his hands and stopped the moment his eyes made contact with Chidori and Junpei.

“Fucking bastards! You can’t get the hint to give up!” Shinjiro called out, shaking his head. Everyone knows of those two being eyesores and a thorn in their sides.

Takaya crossed his arms and shook his head. “You know, I refrained from interfering, as you requested.” He pointed at Chidori as if he was punishing her for her behavior. “And now look at the mess it’s cause.” He tsked and rolled his eyes. He moved one of his hands to his gun. “It is too late now, Chidori. You have been poisoned by them.”

Junpei gritted his teeth and pushed herself up from the ground. “What the fuck is that suppose to mean, you damned ghost!?”

Takaya laughed as his other free hand moved to his forehead, gripping the sides of it like he was trying to squeeze a headache away.

“I’m not a ghost. Despite my detachment to life, fate has decided to let me live. You can say I was… chosen .”

“You bastard… I am not letting you do this to her anymore!” Junpei screamed and put his gloved hand on his chest. “I will protect Chidori with my life!”

Chidori gasped and tilted her head slightly to look at her lover at an angle. “J-Junpei…”

“Chidori, come with me—come with us ! You don’t need them anymore. I am scared to be alone, too. We have to care for each other and keep that from happening!” Junpei turned his attention to Chidori and smiled. All anger and frustration left his face immediately.

“Hmph.” Takaya huffed and reached for his pistol, drawing it out and angling it towards the members of SEES.

Akihiko heard the noise of the revolver and that quick intake of his breath made Shinjiro look over at Takaya. “Junpei, look out!” Akihiko called out as everything started to blur together.

Shinjiro dashed in front of Fuuka, instantly protecting her, and her eyes widening as the pistol went off. Fuuka turned her back as she felt Shinjiro’s arms tightly wrapping them around her torso. She covered her ears and felt her breath becoming lost in the same moment the pistol was shot. Her eyes squeezed shut as she breathed loudly and tried to block the noise of the pistol. Fuuka began to hyperventilate, panicking and awaited to be shot dead again. A moment passed as she didn’t feel no pain, no blood on her, and she dropped her hands from her ears. She turned to face Shinjiro as his eyes were wide.

“Are you—!”

Shinjiro shook his head to respond to Fuuka’s question. And while they were both relieved, it clicked with them at the same time as they realized who Takaya aimed for. A body hit the ground as Shinjiro moved his body to reveal Junpei was the one who got shot. Fuuka’s lips trembled as Chidori was frozen to ground while she looked at Junpei. The blood was seeping through his shirt as Fuuka’s eyes grew as she screamed and began to go after Junpei as Mitsuru, Yukari, Minako, and Akihiko were already surrounding his body.

“No! NOOOOOO!!! ”

“Fuuka!” Shinjiro called out as he reached for Fuuka’s body and tried to hold her back. “You need to stay by me! Takaya can shoot you or me again!”

“I can’t! H-he needs help! Someone heal him!” Fuuka cried out as she felt her body fighting her back and exhaustion hitting her. “Junpei—! Don’t—!” She sobbed as she fell to the ground and Shinjiro pulled her closer to him. Fuuka gripped her fists as they laid on her tights. “I can’t… do this again!”

Chidori watched as the others around her tried to check Junpei’s pulse as Minako began to order Yukari to try to heal him. Chidori gulped, something clicking inside of her, and knowing what she has to do. Her Persona gave her this power…and she will use it to save Junpei’s life.

“Give him here.” Chidori moved Yukari and Mitsuru out of the way, reaching for her lover and holding him in his arms. The way Chidori’s were at peace, noting Junpei’s face was getting bluer by the moment, she shook her head and got rid of her doubts right then and there. Grabbing her evoker, she shoots it under her chin and smiles. “Medea…”

The click of the evoker went off as she dropped the evoker next to her and put her hand up to his wound. She closes her eyes and focuses her energy onto repairing his wound. Fuuka looked up to see the small light emitting from Chidori’s hand. Wiping tears from her face, Fuuka reached for Shinjiro’s arm and gripped it tightly. At this moment, she was surprised Takaya had not bothered attacking them. Maybe he was awaiting this—wanting to see what Chidori was going to do.

The light grew brighter and bigger as everyone that was surrounding Junpei gave him space. Chidori was focusing on reviving Junpei—Fuuka gasped as she knew what Chidori was doing. Everyone just watched with cautious eyes. After a few more seconds of silence, Junpei’s eyes open up and gasping for any breath.

“What…the hell…?” He whispered, as he turned to face everyone and then looked at Chidori.

Fuuka gasped as she smiled and wiped away more tears. “Junpei-kun!”

“Junpei!”

“Junpei-san!”

“Junpei-kun!”

Everyone felt a lot of weight shifting off of their chests as Chidori moved Junpei off of her body, looking a bit proud of herself and her job well done.

“It’s her Persona…” Fuuka stated as she looked at Chidori and Junpei looking lovingly into each other's eyes. “Does it have the power to bestow life?”

“I can’t believe it. She brought him back from the dead…” Shinjiro whispered, not knowing Chidori had a power like that. “No wonder she kept that power to herself.”

“W-wait… if she goes as far as resurrecting someone, the cost for that means she would—”

And before Fuuka could finish her statement, Chidori’s eyelids closed and her eyes began to roll into the back of her head. Junpei gasped, calling out to Chidori and catching her before she fell to the ground. Gasps escape some of the members of SEES as they carefully surround the couple.

“It worked. Thank goodness…” Chidori softly spoke, one of her hands on his chest and Junpei cupping Chidori’s cheek, brushing stray hair away from her face. “So it worked…” Her hand delicately gripped Junpei’s sleeve, a soft smile appearing on her lips.

Fuuka subconsciously gripped Shinjiro’s sleeve, knowing that Chidori was going to die. She could easily sense it with Lucia and she couldn’t speak up to tell anyone–would it even be appropriate to do so?

“I can hear… …the sound of…your beating heart. Badump. Badump.” Chidori whispered, relief flooding her face and her eyes closing tightly once again. As if every time Junpei’s heart beat, hers ached in return. “That is all I needed to know. …so that I can live on in you, forever. I’ll… …always be with you, Junpei.”

Junpei smiled weakly, nodding slowly, but then a hint of confusion appeared on in his eyes. “Huh? Wh-what do you mean? Hey–Chidori–!” He could feel her slipping out of his hands, lightly shaking her to wake her up. “Stay with me. The hell’re you even talking about?!”

Chidori closed her eyes, as if trying to rest once more, and she opened them slowly to look at Junpei. Koromaru quietly whined in the background as the members of SEES were slowly connecting the dots. Yukari silently reaching for Minato’s hand, gripping it tightly; Akihiko reaching for Minako’s hand and felt a heavy sigh leaving his own lips; Shinjiro looking at Chidori and feeling absolutely nauseous. He knew he had to tell Fuuka about his own issues–Chidori was dying right in front of him, someone whom he made a promise with and yet…couldn’t even look Fuuka in the eye, even as she was gripping his sleeve tightly in fear.

“This is how it has to be, Junpei. …But, I promise that… …I will always protect you. Always…” Chidori looked up at Shinjiro, watching silently as their eyes linked up. A slight breeze pushed past Shinjiro's face, as if it was a gentle reminder to not forget his promise. He looked away, his eyes shooting down to the ground and biting his lip from saying anything.

Junpei quickly nodded and felt tears stinging his eyes. “Ye-yeah, same! I’ll always have your back! I’ll do everything in my power to protect you! So–”

A small chuckle left Chidori’s lips as she closed her eyes again. Even looking up at her lover was exhausting her. “Hehe… …this might be all I will ever need. This is nice… …being in each other’s arms.”

Tears swelled up in Junpei’s eyes, calling out to Chidori softly. His voice going soft and high pitched, as if he was trying to withhold the crying. “Chidori…!”

“I…love you, Junpei. …thank you…” Chidori murmured, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek and flashing him a small smile. Delicately, she wiped the tear in his left eye away before it fell down his cheek. “...for everything.”

Her hand fell down to the ground, going limp, as Junpei watched her hand fall. He froze, unable to say anything, as if speaking would hurt his throat.

“Chi… …dori…?” He whispered, trying to find his voice that seemed lost to him. “Y-you…have to be joking, right? … …Chidori…!” Junpei pulled Chidori’s limp body up to his chest, holding her tightly and cradling her head in one of his open hands. “S-say something–! Please!!” He begged, shaking her gently as tears began to fall down his face.

Shinjiro’s eyes grew as he froze in his spot next to Fuuka. Fuuka covered her lips with her free hand, hearing Junpei screaming out in pain and sadness, losing his beloved. It brought back the memories of October once again. The pain of the gunshot, trying her hardest to hold onto life, and wanting to see Shinjiro again–she felt tears threatening to fall from her face, too.

We…this could have been us. I could have been the one to die and Shinjiro would have to be in a world of grief. I… …oh, Junpei…

“Pitiful. What a meaningless way to end one’s life.”

Junpei gritted his teeth and turned his attention to Fuuka. “Fuuka. Protect Chidori for me.” Fuuka turned her attention back to Junpei as she nodded and raised an eyebrow.

“Junpei?” Fuuka pulled Chidori into her lap as she could see Junpei trying to hold his anger back and failing horribly. Pushing himself up from the ground, Junpei glared at Takaya and gripped his fists.

“Meaningless?!” He reached for his evoker and screamed. “AHHHHH!” He brought the evoker to his head and pulled the trigger. “Aaaaarrrrgggghhhh!”

In front of everyone, the fusion of Medea and Hermes created a new Persona, something that no one had ever seen or heard of before. And before anyone could even respond to the new Persona, even though Takaya’s eyes grew in surprise and he backed away in fear, Junpei screamed as loud as he could to let out all of his frustration.

“BURN IN HELL!”

“Medea?!” Jin stated as he saw an Agilo heading towards Takaya. He quickly jumped in front of him, to take majority of the fire damage, and gritted his teeth. “Gah!” He fell to his knees as everyone watched Junpei falling to his knees. The combined power of two Personas merging into one exhausted him as he panted, trying to find his breath.

“Y-you won’t get away with–! Gah!” Junpei screamed as he lost grip of his evoker as Akihiko and Ken moved towards Junpei. Ken thrusted his spear out towards Takaya and Jin.

“Junpei!” Akihiko called out, making sure to keep out for Strega and any shady moves they were going to try.

Takaya chuckled and shook his head. HIs hand shot down to his revolver and grinned. “My my my. What a spectacle! Now, watch as I respond to you kindly.”

“Takaya, wait!” Jin cut through Takaya’s thoughts and words. The leader looked down at his friend and frowned. “Do not forget your mission. Don’t waste your time on them!”

Takaya let those words stir in his mind as he nodded slowly. Junpei gasped as he could watch them slowly retreating away. “I have a much greater purpose to fulfill. Since the Dark Hour is not going anywhere for a while, there is no point dealing with you all any longer. Enjoy what ever time you have left.” Takaya glared at everyone as Jin nodded and pulled something out of his pocket. Before anyone could blink, he reached for a smoke bomb in his pocket and threw it out in front of them. The smoke blocked everyone’s vision of each other as Ken coughed and withdrew his weapon.

“Get back here!!” Junpei yelled as he was still on his knees, catching his breath once again as the smoke cleared.

“Junpei!” Akihiko called out as he watched the momentum that Junpei got and watched as he tried his hardest to go after Strega.

“GET BACK HERE!!”

Akihiko reached for Junpei, slipping into his arms as Akihiko was holding on tightly as he could to Junpei. He definitely didn’t want to let him go, even if he could feel Junpei fighting him for an inch.

“Let me go, Akihiko-senpai–!”

“No! She entrusted this life to you! Do NOT waste this second chance she gave you!” Akihiko shook him, hearing a heartfelt whine leaving Junpei’s mouth as he gasped, choking back a sob and felt Akihiko loosening his grip on him as he sat on his knees and sobbed.

Slowly, he turned his attention back to his friends, especially to Fuuka holding Chidori, and the arrow that struck Fuuka’s heart to see Junpei crying–she had to try her hardest to not cry in front of him. It was like yawning–once someone does it, everyone does it. But, Fuuka had to be strong.

“Chidori…!” He murmured as he crawled to Fuuka. Carefully, she transferred Chidori to Junpei’s arms, making sure she was safe and sound, and her shoulders sank twenty feet into the ground. “Chidori…I… I… …dammit, this is…this is so hard . But, this is NOT my life anymore.” He whispered as he pulled her closer to his chest and laid his face into her hair. A hint of flowers in her hair made Junpei sniff his nose into her hair, wanting to not let anyone see his face full of tears.

“...Junpei…” Minako whispered as she saw Akihiko had his back turned towards everyone. As if he was hiding his face from everyone, too. She turned her attention to Minato and bit her bottom lip. “...let’s head back to the dorm. Mitsuru-senpai–”

She was already at Junpei’s eye level and nodded. “Let’s go, Iori.” Mitsuru helped Junpei up, even while he was holding onto a lifeless Chidori, and Akihiko ran his hand through his short hair. Akihiko slowly turned to face Minako as everyone began to walk back to the dorm. “Arisato-kun, mind coming with me?” Mitsuru placed a hand on Minato’s shoulder, watching as Junpei seemed to be so far away in his mind, as if he wasn’t able to focus on the path in front of him. As if he was zoned out. “I think Iori needs a friend.”

A quick nod from Minato and turned his attention to Yukari. “I’ll be back later. I promise.” He kissed the top of his girlfriend’s head and she nodded, waving him away.

Fuuka and Shinjiro were the ones staying in the back of the group, watching as Junpei, Minato, and Mitsuru walked towards the opposite direction of the and towards the hospital. Fuuka turned aroundto look at the school, surprised that the blood that shot out of Junpei was non-existent. Was Chidori the reason? She turned her eyes forward and lowered her head. No one could say anything to Junpei before they split up–Fuuka wouldn’t know what to say to him, knowing that this could have been her and Shinjiro.

She reached for his hand and gripped it tightly. Fuuka looked up at Shinjiro carefully, noticing he was looking down and away from Fuuka. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was at that moment. However, Fuuka could only say, “I love you, Shinjiro,” to him, wondering what was on his mind.

Shinjiro looked down at Fuuka, flashing her a small smile and whispering “I love you, too” back to her as she smiled and gripped his hand a little tighter. Deep down, Shinjiro was trying his hardest to not get sick. The thought of telling Fuuka that the suppressants he took for years is now killing him would break her heart. But, the thought of breaking Chidori’s promise made him feel sicker.

Being stuck between a rock and a hard place and unsure if he was able to talk to anyone about this issue except maybe Koromaru and Miki.

…a part of him wishes he was dead as confronting this part about him to Fuuka might be worse than being alive. Shinjiro hated how he could already see the look of disappointment in her face with not confiding in her about this deadly secret. And disappointing Fuuka was going to tear him apart.

[divadivine13]

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[birdsviewblog]

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[infoglitch]

Branded dogma

(power system, characters, species, areas and cities)

In the world of branded dogma (or as its world is called, camakol (Ka-Ma-Coal)) each being is born with a sigil on a part of their body, the sigil takes the shape of a circle with a capital Y in it. This sigil allows a person to access the flow of magic which is composed of three primary forces (destruction, manifestation, and melding)

The flow of magic can itself not be tampered with, the amount of access a person has to it can be, this is done by a contracting with spirits, beasts, or dragons due to their higher amount of magic emitting from them. 

The Species of camakol Are divided into 7

Igniants. Spirits of smoke and ash that are volatile in both temper and personality. They use modified mechanical skeletons that are able to transform into rockets to contain their physical form less they get blown away. Constantly seeking the thrill of fire and destruction they have mainly abandoned any form of monarch and become pirates of their home land. The golden sea, mors desert.

Draknians or dragons. These beings look similar to humans minus their charcoal black skin, white hair, and their magma blood. These creatures have mastered each form of magic and have been able to merge with anything they desire to merge with. They are truly marvelous beasts of magic which is why a group of humans worship them.

Humans. Humans are said to be the children of elves after their fall. Humans are tenacious and able to grow and adapt quickly, perhaps due to the loss of their longer lifespan. Humans despite this have rather small reserves of magic, only enough for one type of their choice. Humans have made many kingdoms and some have made peace treaties with certain species. 

Jewymphs. These are spirits that compose of ice water and jewels, are species that are able to weave the flow of magic via songs. Depending on the tone they could bring ruin or joy. Hence why humans have sealed them to the bottom of the vast green sea of jadus as the queen diamux seeks to freedom from their watery tomb.

Raimei’s. These beings that descend from the ever gray clouds of their home, Atlasia are tricksters. They are led by their “gods”. Thungaking, lighragking, and inferguking. These three brothers leader species to seek out their desires of bringing joy and worship to their gods. Which has led to their friendship with humans.

Regulisers. Beings that are consumed by a permanent lycanthropy their matted fur, fangs, and claws, make them absolute beasts of might as their souls are permanently left with the power of destruction. These creatures despite their appearance, are still allied with humans.

Lyonius. These are humanoid creatures that have feline features and range in variety, from lynx, tigers, lions, all the way to calicos. These beings are rather friendly with humans and regulisers as they mingle with each species and are incredible at many forms of arts, ranging from painting, to dancing.

Characters.

Ryuga: age 100 (or 20 in human years). a Draknian with amnesia. He has no memory of his last only knowing how to use his sigil as he can immediately merge with anything he desires by pumping his magic into melding as he enters his true dragon state with a enhancement due to the combined material.

Emilia: age 23. the first person to encounter ryuga as he landed in her peoples home city ashcadia. She is one of the 10 commander battle priests. She is a master of manifestation magic as she has learned how to heal her allies aswell as make her signature great sword.

Brigar: age 150.  the captain of one of the igniants fleets of desert pirates, leading the pirate crew called “the marauders” before he and his fleet parted Ways as he joins the party. A large mass of hulking Mech suit that is able to fire missiles from its hands and back as well as allowing the combustion of of brigar to be turned into a flaming shock that can be released without destroying the suit. The second form is a much smaller Mech that transforms into a rocket. Despite these two forms he actually has a myriad of the latter saved inside the former suit.

Kathy: age 21. a tiger Lyonius who's fiery passion for machinery has led her being able to create new suits from the leftover remains of brigar’s much smaller Mech suits. Her deep understanding of machinery has allowed her to use the power of the igniants to create living weapons that ryuga can use as well as fuse with. She is also the most… inept person of the party as she lacks social skills which her older sister frigit tried teach her but Kathy constantly refused. She also does cat and explosion puns… to mixed results.

The regions of camakol And their respective establishment.

The black forest, ashmia.

Description: it is unknown why the forest has its black color, what it is said that here stands the Pinnacle of human civilization. It bears many fruit ranging from bloodberries all the way to tromelons.

City: Ashcadia, the shining white citadel. 

Description: Ashcadia is if not one of the most populated cities, and home to the Church of dragmati. Over 85% of the city are participants in this religion of worshiping dragons… but the priest. He should not be trusted.

Atlamia. the collective cloudlands.

Description: of white and gray clouds that is constantly moving across the sky, some mistake the sounds that emerges from it as the call of Angels in the heavens when in truth it is from its only City Atlasia

City: Atlasia, the city in the clouds.

Description: the city of atlamia formed of the collection of Grey thunderclouds. This is home to the raimei's. It is said that the sound of thunder is in truth the drums of the nation beating their song of joy.

Mors desert, the golden sea.

description: despite this title Mors desert is nothing but a vast Sandy expanse as well as it's deep crevice filled with boiling lava. this desert holds many fossils of monsters that dare contest with its primary predator. Gorga the red wyrm.

Establishment: the marauders clutch.

Description: home to the Marauders faction of the many igniant pirate factions. Disestablishment can be found under a large fossilized claw that they use as a barrier of their permanent territory.

Establishment: the karga’s pit.

Description: found just above the deep lava filled crevice this is home to the karga’s pirate fleet as they have found a way to harvest the lava as a form of fuel to help out an extra kick to their destructive power

Establishment: the Rogers Maw.

Description: home of the Rogers pirates their base of operations can be found in the maw of a large fossilized skull. This area can be used as a safe spot due to how the routers pirates are less aggressive than their three counterparts.

Establishment: the break armadas arse.

Description: home to the Marauders rival pirate group The break Armada, their home establishment can be found under the large fossilized pelvic bone which has sadly LED them to be given many crass but well deserved nicknames.

Margmia. The forbidden expanse.

Description: a completely volcanic area but also contains extreme Flora such as the redglass trees, or the red river “margmia’s wine”.

City: vanguard, the illustrious red city. 

Description: the home of all Draknian’s. As well as the home of the study of magic. The large black spire is the centerpiece of the city as all the magic is pulled into one large white sphere of radiant magic.

The emerald sea. Jadus.

Description: this large green sea divides the lands and is home to all forms of sea beasts and leviathans. And at the very bottom lays the tomb of the jewymphs. The amethyst cradle.

prison: the amethyst cradle.

Description: forged from the large amethyst geodes is the amethyst cradle prison of the Jewymphs. it is only able to open by the hands of a human mage. And so with this the helpless people that jewymphs are locked in for eternity.

/// You have reached the crossing point. All of information from this point is beyond the understanding of the world.\\\

The unknown life of camakol.

Hidden deep inside this world there is a pit, dubbed “magnum omega”. This pit seeks nothing more than to consume everything and so hence it's children have arrived to allow it to feed

Karma's. demonic entities that wield a form of magic unknown to all which has been dubbed “fate magic”. These beings have the ability of changing the luck of a person however they see fit. Their white horns and red scales make them a clear threat to all.

Rasers. Angelic entities that wield a unknown form of magic that has been dubbed “eraser magic”. These beings are able to erase certain concepts or things out of reality, note this is NOT destruction magic, destruction magic simply damages or deconstructs things, this form of magic just.. erases things… almost as if they never existed. The Red wings and white skin causes those to Bear witness them to believe they are friendly when in truth they will erase you.

Then there is the ring master, the being who is the most “subservient” to magnum omega.

Lupin: a Draknian twisted by the power of Magnum Omega. The ones white hair has turned crimson as they're black charcoal like skin has turned ivory. They have mastered both the known forms and the unknown forms of magic allowing them to do far more than expected. Lupin may serve Magnum Omega but seeks a prize. His “other half”. None know who is referring to but he is dead set on finding him.

“Dark, darker, yet even darker. To describe such a void is to describe an abyss. An abyss that seeks to swallow everything whole. An abyss that seeks nothing more than to devour and then regurgitate. An abyss that within its stomach lays a behemoth that is fed. This void has a name… magnum omega”

////////

I... I...

I really do, do too much. Jesus Christ

READ THE BOOK FUCKERS.

[anitabyars]

Playboy

by Marni Mann is now live! The

A sizzling, grumpy-sunshine, boy-obsessed, one-night-stand romance from USA Today best-selling author Marni Mann …

Spade. People know what to expect when they hear my last name.

Billionaire. Alphahole. The forever bachelor. Heir to Spade Hotels, one of the most luxurious brands in the world.

Want to know what they would never call me?

Boyfriend.

Until her.

With one glance at her in the club, I’m ready to claim her for the night.

Dark, flowing hair. A smile that causes my heart to pound. Eyes that pierce my soul. And a perfect body that makes every part of me pulse.

She’s addictive. Electrifying. Consuming.

I’ve never wanted anyone more.

Our eyes meet, but she looks right past me. She isn’t here for me. She’s here for the music.

For the first time in my life, a woman makes me work for it. Her indifference fuels the fire inside me.

The result? One night. No names. No introductions.

Just pleasure.

The way I’ve always liked it.

But now, I find myself fantasizing about this gorgeous stranger, and I swear I can still feel the softness of her skin and taste her on my lips.

The minute I saw her, a switch flipped inside me. Now, how do I stop this raging … obsession?

When our paths cross again in the most unexpected way, I’m on a mission to make her mine. But what happens when she wants nothing to do with me?

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Audio Narrated by: Savannah Peachwood & Tor Thom

Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3OybFED

Meet Marni

USA Today best-selling author Marni Mann knew she was going to be a writer since middle school. While other girls her age were daydreaming about teenage pop stars, Marni was fantasizing about penning her first novel. She crafts sexy, titillating stories that weave together her love of darkness, mystery, passion, and human emotions. A New Englander at heart, she now lives with her husband in Sarasota, Florida. When she’s not nose deep in her laptop, working on her next novel, she’s scouring for chocolate, sipping wine, traveling, boating, or devouring fabulous books. 
Want to get in touch?

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