#it’s the way i still took the time to do my little archiving thing

[bitethedevil]

If you’re taking writing prompts consider-

Raphael reacting to Tav/Durge confessing they’re in love with him

I made it a Durge because I haven't written a lot of Durge stuff (fun fact: the first longer fic I ever wrote was with a Durge warlock that had Raph as a patron, but I never released it). Raph is being a bit of a manipulative dick in this one, but what's new. Also, I'm slow as fuck at replying to my asks (especially prompts)

Love

Clack clack clack clack…clack clack clack clack…clack clack clack clack.

His office was deadly quiet except for the sound of his claws tapping on the hard mahogany of his desk, a dangerous rhythm that she knew immediately what meant the second she heard it. The rhythm echoed her heartbeat as she waited for her patron to say something. She was in trouble.

He was leaning against his desk, looking at her and keeping her in suspense. A cruel smile stretched over his face, as he saw how she was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She had defeated monsters, mindflayers, gods…even the biggest monster of them all, her father. Still, nothing made her stomach churn more than the thought of Raphael’s wrath.

The feeling humiliated her as much as it thrilled her and drew her closer to him. She had been a god in her own right with all the lives she took under Bhaal and the cult she had led in his name, but this mere cambion brought her to her knees.

She was like a moth to his fiery flames. Everything about him excited her: his cruelness, his gracious mercy at times, his power plays. He felt like home. There was something safe and known in that cruelty that drew her closer. It was something she understood the rules of.

Click clack…

“I have always questioned your loyalty,” he finally said and moved his claws up to his face to look at them as he spoke. “It is no secret that I am prone to play favorites, but perhaps I made a mistake when I took you in…”

His yellow eyes looked up at her. His comment hit her like a punch to the gut and she knew as well as him that that was the intended effect. She hated the feeling of disappointing him. She hated that she felt that way about it even more. She cleared her throat.

“What is this about?” she asked quietly.

That was the wrong question. She could see it from the way his tail flicked in irritation. She had taught herself every one of his physical cues. They were subtle sometimes, but easier to read in this form. The man had total control over his body, but the devil was just a tad less composed.

“What is this about?” he repeated his question in a smooth, even tone. “Many things, my dear.”

That was another thing she had learned: it was never just one thing. Raphael held grudges. He archived every little mistake in his head in neat files, so he could throw them in your face when you stepped out of line.

“You came crawling to me after your father spat you out, after defying me at every turn and without a crown for me. You begged me to take you in, and yet I question your devotion to my cause. You owe me a grand debt when it comes to loyalty. A debt you have not yet paid back with your services, and one that I now question if you will ever pay back if you keep associating yourself with the wrong people.”

She had wanted to give him the Crown of Karsus. She had liked him even back then. Her companions had fought her every step of the way, and with her dealing with Bhaal, she had too much on her plate to fight them on it.

“It wasn’t my choice, Raphael,” she pleaded. “You know—”

“Yes, yes,” he cut her off impatiently with a wave of his clawed hand. “I have heard all your endless excuses…and I graciously forgave you, didn’t I? You would have been a bloody stain on my carpet long ago if I had not. What I cannot forgive is disloyalty.”

“Raphael, please,” she pleaded quietly. “Just tell me what I have done. I’ll make it right.”

Another flick of his tail. His nose wrinkled and his eyes narrowed, but he quickly schooled his features back into one of indifference.

“What were you doing in Waterdeep?” he asked slowly, each word as heavy as a brick.

That was what all of this was about. She had visited Gale. Gale who had been the very reason that the Crown of Karsus did not go to Raphael. Gale and her had started out as friends, but it evolved to something more along the way. It did not work out. Gale was too perfect, too functional for her. She broke his heart, and she would be lying if she said that this fact wasn’t taken into consideration when she gave up on trying to give to the Crown of Karsus to Raphael.

“I was just visiting,” she admitted. “Nothing more.”

“Just visiting,” he repeated with a hint of venom in his voice. “Just visiting an old flame that snubbed your patron of what was rightfully his, is that right? Is he well, our dear Gale? Does his new unburdened life suit him?”

“We are friends—”

“Friends,” Raphael said with a cruel laugh. “How awfully sentimental of you, dear. How soft you have become. I remember a ruthless woman who murdered her way through Baldur’s Gate. That woman, I could have used. It seems that your father has stripped you of everything that once made you interesting.”

That comment made her furious. It made her blood boil, but then why was she on the verge of crying instead? Why did she find herself pleading instead of yelling?

“Gale and I have been through hell and back,” she said. “It doesn’t change my loyalties for you. Please, Raphael.”

“I will NOT be made to look a fool!!” he roared with a sudden fire in his eyes.

The sound boomed through his office. She flinched. His tail flicked from side to side now. He looked her up and down. It seemed to please him how she was turning pale at his words and tearing up. He returned to his calm and collected demeanor as quickly as he got angry.

“Why are you crying?” he asked without a shred of sympathy in the question.

She tried to stop, but she couldn’t. She just wanted him to understand that she was devoted to him, and that this was all a mistake. She had not meant to cross him or make him angry, but merely to visit an old friend. His nails started tapping on the table again as he waited for her to speak.

“Can’t you— can’t you see that I’m only loyal to you?” she sobbed. Clack, clack… “I made a contract with you because I wanted to work for you. I’m yours, and only yours.” Clack, clack, clack. “Can’t you see how I only want to please you? How much I love you?”

Clack.

He froze for a moment at the oddly heartfelt confession that escaped her lips. She had not meant for that to come out, but he was great at pressuring her into saying things she didn’t want to admit. It was a humiliating confession. She hated being so vulnerable and weak. She wished that she could stuff the words right back down her throat. He wasn’t supposed to know.

A smile spread over his otherwise frozen face. He looked her up and down and let out a small huff of laughter. He looked like a man who had just been handed the perfect weapon. His hand left the table and beckoned her closer with a finger.

She walked over to him, unable to look him in the eye. He tilted her head up with a claw under her chin. He towered over her in that form.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

She looked into his yellow eyes. He was smiling at her.

“Say it again.”

“I love you,” she repeated.

The humiliation in the confession was more apparent this time, and he was eating it up like it was the best meal he had had in centuries. He laughed her straight in the face.

“Oh, dear,” he said with a chuckle. “A creature of habit, aren’t you? You poor girl…”

She swallowed hard. She should have just shut up. His thumb ran over her jaw and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The touch set her aflame, despite the excruciating embarrassment she was feeling.

“Do I remind you of your dear old papa?” he asked, still smiling like the cat that got the cream. “Is that what this is about? It is always the fathers, isn’t it? Still searching for the approval of a cruel master, even now. Perhaps you haven’t changed at all, my dear…”

She kept quiet. He leaned closer as if sharing a secret. She could smell wine and tobacco on his breath. His thumb rubbed circles on her jaw.

“Tell me,” he whispered to her. “Where did your dear Gale fit into this picture? I’m awfully curious.”

Her eyes flicked to his lips for only a second, but he didn’t miss it by the way his smile widened.

There was only one acceptable answer and she prayed that she would choose the right one. She shrugged.

“He didn’t,” she said quietly.

That was the right answer from the way his smile widened.

“No, I would imagine not,” he said. “Too…boring…wasn’t he? He was not enough of a challenge for you, so you discarded him.”

There was a hint of guilt in her eyes at his words. He tutted gently and caressed her cheek.

“Who could blame you?” he cooed. “People like us won’t concern ourselves with boredom. You were right in choosing to focus on greater things. Gale was easy. Pleasing him was easy. He would not make you fight for it like I will.”

That promise made a shiver go through her. Raphael grabbed her arm and tugged her even closer, until she was standing between his legs with her chest pressed against his. His hand came to rest on her hip. He pressed his forehead against her, his nose touching hers. He was tantalizingly close.

“You are mine then, aren’t you?” he asked. “Only mine.”

She nodded. He gave a dangerous smile.

“You want to please me,” he said. “To make me happy…”

Another nod.

“You love and adore me.”

Another nod. His lips were so close she could almost taste them. His thumb was rubbing circles into her hip. His tail was flicking side to side, but not in rage. It was more like a cat that is ready to pounce on an unsuspecting prey that it had been sneaking up on for a while.

“You will write a letter to Gale Dekarios and say that you are unavailable for any future visits,” he whispered against her lips. “That you have already done plenty for him and that you never want to see him again.”

His lips brushed lightly against hers before he pulled away, stealing her breath. She chased his lips, but he only smiled and pulled away further. She knew she had to earn it.

“Go. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you?” he said with a smile and let go of her.

[joeymerenset]

My CG titles on my main account normally: character names, brief description of what’s going on, chapter numbers

My CG titles when I’m sleepy and playing on my 2nd account:

[skitskatdacat63]

2009 Chinese Grand Prix - Parc Fermé - Sebastian Vettel & Mark Webber

[agentromanoffsir]

neocities guide - why you should build your own html website

do you miss the charm of the 90s/00s web where sites had actual personality instead of the same minimalistic theme? are you feeling drained by social media and the constant corporate monopoly of your data and time? do you want to be excited about the internet again? try neocities!!

what is neocities?

neocities is a free hosting website that lets you build your own html website from scratch, with total creative control. in their own words: "we are tired of living in an online world where people are isolated from each other on boring, generic social networks that don't let us truly express ourselves. it's time we took back our personalities from these sterilized, lifeless, monetized, data mined, monitored addiction machines and let our creativity flourish again."

why should I make my own website?

web3 has been overtaken by capitalism & conformity. websites that once were meant to be fun online social spaces now exist solely to steal your data and sell you things. it sucks!! building a personal site is a great way to express yourself and take control of your online experience.

what would I even put on a website?

the best part about making your own site is that you can do literally whatever the hell you want! focus on a specific subject or make it a wild collection of all your interests. share your art! make a shrine for one of your interests! post a picture of every bird you see when you step outside! make a collection of your favorite blinkies! the world is your oyster !! here are some cool example sites to inspire you: recently updated neocities sites | it can be fun to just look through these and browse people's content! space bar | local interstellar dive bar creature feature | halloween & monsters big gulp supreme peanutbuttaz | personal site dragodiluna linwood | personal site patho grove | personal site

getting started: neocities/html guide

sound interesting? here are some guides to help you get started, especially if you aren't familiar with html/css sadgrl.online webmastery | a fantastic resource for getting started with html & web revival. also has a layout builder that you can use to start with in case starting from scratch is too intimidating web design in 4 minutes | good for learning coding basics w3schools | html tutorials templaterr | demo & html for basic web elements eggramen test pages | css page templates to get started with sadgrl background tiles | bg tiles rivendell background tiles | more free bg tiles

fun stuff to add to your site

want your site to be cool? here's some fun stuff that i've found blinkies-cafe | fantastic blinkie maker! (run by @transbro & @graphics-cafe) gificities | internet archive of 90s/00s web gifs internet bumper stickers | web bumper stickers momg | gif gallery 99 gif shop | 3d gifs 123 guestbook | add a guestbook for people to leave messages cbox | add a live chat box moon phases | track the phases of the moon gifypet | a little clickable page pet adopt a shroom | mushroom page pet tamaNOTchi | virtual pet crossword puzzle | daily crossword imood | track your mood neko | cute cat that chases your mouse pollcode | custom poll maker website hit counter | track how many visitors you have

web revival manifestos & communities

also, there's actually a pretty cool community of people out there who want to bring joy back to the web! melonland project | web project/community celebrating individual & joyful online experiences. Also has an online forum melonland intro to web revival | what is web revival? melonking manifesto | status cafe | share your current status nightfall city | online community onio.cafe | leave a message and enjoy the ambiance sadgrl internet manifesto | yesterweb internet manifesto | sadly defunct, still a great resource reclaiming online social spaces | great manifesto on cultivating your online experience

in conclusion

i want everyone to make a neocities site because it's fun af and i love seeing everyone's weird personal sites that they made outside of the control of capitalism :) say hi to me on neocities

[copperbadge]

Hey Sam! Since it's currently AO3 donation time, I'm wondering what your thoughts are on it? I'm asking because you've written RPF and it's one of many "anti-AO3/anti-AO3 donations" people's favourite things to bring up when they're complaining about AO3 getting so many donations that it continuously obtains an excess of its donation goal whenever donation time rolls around? (Wow, how many times can I say "donation" in an ask?) Sorry if this question bothers you! I don't mean to offend or annoy.

Hey anon! Sorry it took a while to get to this, I don't even know if the drive is still going on, but the question came in while I was traveling and I didn't really have the time for stuff that wasn't travel-related. In any case, let's dig in! (I am not offended, no worries.)

So really there are two issues here and as much as some people who are critical of AO3 want to conflate them, they are different. While some criticism of AO3 may be valid, rhetoric against AO3 tends to misinterpret both in separate ways.

First there's the issue of what AO3 hosts -- RPF, yes, but more broadly, varied content that some people find distasteful or think should be illegal, which is a misunderstanding of the purpose of the archive and more broadly a dangerous attitude towards the concept of freedom of expression.

Second, there's the issue of AO3 generally outpacing its fundraising goals while not allowing monetization, which is a misunderstanding of the legal status of AO3 and to an extent a misunderstanding of philanthropy as a whole.

The longer I watch debates about content go on, the more I come to the conclusion that I was fortunate to have a teacher who really wanted to instill in us an understanding of free speech not as a policy but as an ongoing dialogue. It's not only that freedom of expression "protects you from the government, not the Justin" as the meme goes, but also that freedom of expression is not a static thing. It's an ongoing process of identifying what we find harmful in society and what we want to do about it.

Should the freedom to shout "Fire!" in a crowded theater be restricted? Should the freedom to yell slurs at drag performers? Should the freedom to teach prepubescent kids about gender, sexuality, and/or safe sex? Should the freedom to wear a leather puppy hood at Pride? Who gets to say, and why?

I was nine when my teacher did a unit on freedom of speech and the intersection of "harm prevention" and "censorship", which is (and should be) a discussion, not a set of ironclad rules. This ambiguity has thus been with me for over thirty years, and I'm comfortable with the ambiguity, with the process; I'm not sure a lot of people critical of AO3's content truly are. Perhaps some can't be, especially those affected by hate speech, but RPF is not hate speech. It's just fiction. Or is fiction "just fiction"? This is a question society as a whole is grappling with, although fandom seems to be a little out ahead of society in terms of how explicitly we discuss it.

The idea that prose can incite violence or cause harm is both valid to examine (witness the rise of fascism on the radio in the 20s, on Facebook and Twitter in the past ten years; they're very similar processes) and a very slippery slope. Because again: who decides what harm is, and what causes it, and what we do about it? Our values align us with certain beliefs, but those are only our values, not universal truths. So AO3 is part of the ongoing question of harm and benefit both to society and individuals.

AO3 itself, however, has a fairly defined policy that it is not meant to police content; it is an archive, not a bookstore or a school board. AO3 refines its TOS and policies as necessary, but the goal is always open access and as much freedom of expression as possible, and if that's uncomfortable for some people then that's a discussion we have to have; ignoring it won't make it go away. But it has to be a discussion, it can't be a unilateral change to the archive's TOS or a series of snaps and clapbacks, and I don't see a lot of people ready to move beyond flinging insults. Perhaps because they were taught a much more binary view of freedom of expression than I was.

So, self-evidently, I support AO3 and I don't have a problem with RPF. Whether other people do is something we're going to have to get to grips with, and that's likely to be a process that is still going on when most of us are dust. I'd rather have a century of ambiguity than a wrong answer tomorrow, anyway.

But whether AO3 hosts RPF is truly a separate issue from its donation drives, because it's a criticism some people level at the site which exists whether it's fundraising or not. So people can criticize AO3's open policy and they can give it as a reason not to support the site, but it's just one aspect of the archive and the fundraising as a whole should be examined separately.

I think AO3's fundraisers are deeply misunderstood (sometimes on purpose) because even people who are anticapitalist get a little crazy when money gets involved, and this is, to fandom, a lot of money -- a few hundred thousand, reliably, every fundraiser. To me, a fundraiser that pulls in three hundred grand is almost quaint; my current nonprofit pulls in better than ten million a year and my previous employer had an endowment of several billion dollars. At my old job I didn't even bother researching people who couldn't give us a hundred grand.

On the other hand, AO3 is an extreme and astounding outlier in the nonprofit world, because basically it's the only one of its kind to work the way it does. It is entirely volunteer-run on the operational side (ie: tag wranglers, coders, lawyers, etc) and has no fundraising staff (gift officers, researchers, outreach officers) as far as I'm aware. To pull in three hundred grand from individual one-time donations, without any paid staff and without even a volunteer fundraising officer? That's insane. That doesn't happen. Except at AO3.

What people misunderstand, however, is the basic status of a nonprofit, which is a legal status, not simply a social one. (I'm adding in some corrections here since it gets complicated and the terminology can be important!) The Organization for Transformative Works, the parent of AO3, is a nonprofit, which indicates how it was incorporated as an organization; additionally it is registered federally as tax-exempt, which carries certain perks, like not paying sales tax, and certain duties, like making their financials transparent to a certain extent. (Religious nonprofits are exempt from the transparency requirement.) If you're interested in more about nonprofits and tax-exempt status a reader dropped a great article here.

Nonprofits, unlike for-profit companies, cannot pay a share of their income to stakeholders. Nonprofits don't have financial stakeholders, only donors. They can have employees and pay them a salary -- that's me, for example -- but if a nonprofit pulls in $10M in donations, my salary is paid from that, I don't get a percentage and nobody else does either. That's what it means to be a nonprofit -- the money above operational costs goes back into the organization. The donations we (and AO3) receive must be plowed under and used for outreach, server maintenance, further fundraising, services expansion, et cetera. You can see this in the 990 forms on Guidestar or ProPublica, or in their more accessible breakdowns on Charity Navigator. Nonprofits that do not put the majority of their income towards service provision tend to get audited and lose their nonprofit status. So nobody's getting paid from all that money, and the overage that isn't spent goes into what is basically a savings account in the name of the nonprofit. (I'm vastly simplifying but that's the gist.) Using that money for personal purposes is illegal. It's called "private inurement" and there's a good article here about it. The money belongs to the OTW as a concept, not to anyone in or of the OTW.

So the biggest misunderstanding that I see in people who are mad at AO3 fundraisers is that "they" are getting all this money (who "they" are is never clearly stated but I'm pretty sure people think @astolat has a special wifi router that runs on burning hundred dollar bills) while "we" can't monetize our fanfic. But "they" get nothing -- nobody even earns a salary from AO3 -- and you can easily prove that by looking at the 990 forms they file with the government, which are required to be made public. You can see the most recently available 990, from 2020, here at Guidestar. Page seven will show you the "highest compensated" employees, all of whom are earning zero dollars or nonmonetary perks (that's the three columns on the right).

Either AO3 is entirely volunteer-run or someone's Doing A Real Fraud. The money the OTW spends is documented (that's page 10 and 11 primarily) and while they may pay for, say, the travel and lodging expenses of a lawyer going to DC to defend a freedom-of-expression case, they don't pay the lawyer for their time, or give them a cut of the income.

Despite what you've read, the reason "we" can't monetize our fanfics on AO3 has nothing to do with the site being the product of volunteer handiwork or AO3 having it in their terms of service or it being considered gauche by some to do so; it's because

IT'S ILLEGAL.

I cannot say this loudly enough: It is against the law for a nonprofit to be used by its staff, volunteers, or beneficiaries to earn direct profit from the services provided by the nonprofit.

You can be paid to work at one, but you cannot side-hustle by selling your handmade friendship bracelets for personal gain on the nonprofit's website. If the nonprofit knowingly allows monetization of its services, it can lose nonprofit status, be fined, be hit with back taxes, and a lot of other unpleasant bullshit can go down, including prosecution of those involved for fraud. If you put a ko-fi link on your fanfic, you are breaking the law, and if AO3 allows it, they are too.

Okay, that was a sidebar, but in some ways not, because it gets to the heart of the real complaints about AO3 fundraising, which is that people in fandom are sick or unhoused or in some form of need and other people in fandom are giving to AO3, a fan site that is financially stable, instead of giving to peoples' gofundmes or dropping money in their Ko-Fi or Paypal. And while it is a legitimate grievance that there are people who are in such desperate need while we live in an era of unprecedented abundance, that's not AO3's fault. AO3 doesn't solicit actively, there's no unasked-for mailings or calls from a gift officer. They just put a banner up on their website, and people give. (Again, this is incredibly outlier behavior in the nonprofit world, I'd do a case study on it but the conclusion would just be "shit's real, yo.") You might as well be mad that people give to their local food bank instead of someone's ko-fi.

You cannot lay at AO3's feet the fact that people want to give to AO3 instead of to your fundraiser. That's a choice individuals have made, and while you can engage with them in terms of why they made the philanthropic choices they did, to blame an organization they supported rather than the person who made the choice to give is not only incorrect but futile, and unlikely to win anyone over to supporting you. We know from research that guilt is not a tremendous motivator of philanthropy.

It is also not necessarily a binary choice; just because AO3 gets a hundred grand in $5 donations doesn't mean most of the people giving don't also give $5 elsewhere. I support the OTW on occasion, and I also fundraise for UNICEF and the Chicago Parks Foundation and BAGLY and others, in addition to giving monthly to several nonprofits that I have longterm relationships with -- my alma mater, the animal rescue where I got the Cryptids, my shul. And I give, occasionally and anonymously, to fundraisers that pass through Radio Free Monday, which are mainly individuals in need, because I was once in need and now I pay it forward. These are the choices I have made. Nobody twisted my arm. I respond poorly to someone making the attempt to do so by attacking places I've given.

I think the upshot is, after all of this that I've written, that we cannot begin to come to grips with questions of institutional inequality in philanthropy, or freedom of expression and censorship, until people actually understand what's going on, and too few do. So all I can do is try and explain, and hopefully create a forum for people to learn and grow when it comes to charitable giving.

Archive Of Our Own and the Organization for Transformative Works are products of our community and as that community changes, we will necessarily continue to re-evaluate what aspects of it mean and how AO3/OTW express the community sentiment. I hope that the ongoing discussion of support for AO3 also leads to people learning more about their philanthropic options. But criticizing AO3 for fundraising by attacking it for fulfilling one of its stated purposes is silly, and attempting to guilt people into giving in the ways one thinks they should give rather than how they do give is just going to make one extremely unlikable.

As members of this community, we have to be a part of the push and pull, but it's difficult to do that competently in ignorance. So, I do my best to be knowledgeable and to educate my readers, and I hope others will do the same.

[xamag-draws]

BBR thoughts 2024

Since I mentioned that I finally dusted off an old project of mine and was ruminating on how I'd remake it, I thought I'd elaborate a little, now that I've solidified some concepts. For funsies

This is gonna be a bit of a long and unfocused one, but I don't share my personal thoughts here often, especially the stuff about my projects I always marinate in. And for once it's something that people have existing context for, so hey why not

So for anyone who hasn't been following me for a gajillion years, The Black Brick Road of OZ was a webcomic that I posted around 2013-2015, back when I was in highschool going on college (which is kinda crazy to think about). It was sort of a darker twist on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, although I definitely leaned a lot more into dark humor more than anything in those first few chapters

I don't think it's available to read anywhere anymore, and I know people have been asking me about it. So here's the full proper archive of BBR, as full as it can be with deceased Flash

I totally used it as an excuse to shamelessly and self-indulgently experiment. It had interactive pages and GIFs and was wayyy too overproduced for what I could handle or what was necessary, but I did have great fun making it while it lasted

Unfortunately, that excess and the fact that I've changed too much as a person by the time I was in college is what ultimately killed it. The direction I wanted to go in was practically unrecognizable from the original idea started back in 2011, so there were many old hold-ups that I felt ruined it

At the time I kinda wished I could start/rewrite it all over, but considering that I pretty much had the entire script done at that point, it felt like a pointless sisyphean task. So I just put it on a shelf and didn't look back for about 8 years, because I didn't know what else to do

Now to be fair, the nature of my art has always been iterative and cyclical; when I feel like my creative juices have run dry I prefer to leave a project to marinate and move on to something else; cycle through other old things and bring in new skills and perspectives into the mix when I'm ready again. Not very productive, but it is what makes me happy to work on my OCs; I'm doomed to hit a wall with them eventually and I need some time to be able to find a new direction

So that said, I'm glad that BBR was left to marinate for that long. I don't think I was prepared, emotionally or intellectually, to tackle it again until now. The Wizard of Oz book (and the entire series of them, really) has always been near and dear to my heart, but there's a lot of context around it that I'm only unpacking now that I'm older

I think I always inherently feel negatively about the stuff I've made in the past, like its faults always jump out to me more than the positives, especially the more time passes. I've never liked that, and I do really appreciate the kind things people have to say about BBR to this day. The fact that it still can be recognized and remembered is very sweet

When I left it, I already found it "kinda cringe", and that feeling only deepened with years. When I took my first look back at it, asking the question "how would I rewrite it now?", at first I took a very cynical approach, as in "everything would have to be torn down"

But the more I sat on it, the more I found that I still see some merit and charm in the ideas I was putting out; I just didn't know how to execute them at the time (not to pretend that I know what I'm doing now, but I certainly know more at least). Turns out a lot of my old concepts could be changed substantially with just a few small tweaks. So I'd say that's a nicer way to think about my previous work

If you haven't seen yet, I posted a first draft of my new designs for some of the characters (the main group, the Goods and the Wickeds). Definitely subject to change, but more or less how I see them now

I'm just playing with these concepts; by no means would I attempt to remake BBR right this moment. Call it a pipe dream among my other ones. But just for fun, this is the direction I'd like to take:

Nowadays I'd probably make it a visual novel, with more emphasis on the visual part than the novel because I'm no English prose writer by any means. It'd still let me play a little with the interactivity while helping cut some corners on the drawing part (only some, I imagine I'd go hog wild anyway)

I've always intended for some events inspired by the sequel books to take place in BBR's past. Stuff like Jinjur's revolt or Ozma's rule preceeds the main events here. So I think it would be fun to follow the past of a few key characters alongside the main story. One chapter focusing on the present quest to see the Wizard, then one focusing on the past events (that are maybe reflective thematically); rinse and repeat

I'm also sticking a little closer to the original text in some regards. Not everything that I enjoy from the books would be translated here, it's still just a very loose fantasy on the material; but I'd like to be closer in spirit at least

I like mature, wise and powerful Glinda, I like kind and vulnerable Tin Man, I like the Wizard being a pathetic yet loveable liar, so I'm sprinkling in more of that for example

I'd like to keep some whimsy, but make it more grounded and a bit more serious to be coherent in tone. I think the original TWWOOZ book was a more realistic fantasy in some ways, even for the standards of the time; I like its simple but vivid tactile descriptions and details like bringing attention that Dorothy needed to eat and sleep

I find it funny that Baum specifically was averse to making his books scary or unpleasant, finding that unnecessary for telling a compelling kids story, but they still can get pretty dark and disturbing, at least for our modern sensibilities. Let's just say that I intend to use the Evoldo and Chopfyt storylines for my purposes. In that way, I feel like a "darker" Wizard of Oz retelling can still mostly be tonally in line with the original and balance it with enough heart and occasional humor

I slowly grew to appreciate the quaint old-timey quality of the original series, as well. The first book is both timeless and very much a product of the 1900s. Originally I tried to give it a little modern or at least anachronistic spin, but it was moreso because it's what I knew best, so these days I'd rather intentionally lean into the time period. Still not fully historically accurate by any means, but at least directly acknowledging the influence

The events of the story span across 40 years of these characters' lives, so I'm drawing inspiration from the entire so-called La Belle Epoque: the time period around 1880s-1920s. Basically I'm cooking, and my soup is old Victorian fashion morphing into Edwardian fashion and slowly inching towards flappers

Some new Dolly outfits

Lots of crazy things, political changes and innovations were happening at the turn of the century, which I think is noted and reflected by Baum in the books as well; the character of Tik-Tok might not blow any minds now, but he was one of the first robot characters in literature at that point; and don't even get me started on Jinjur, etc. Plenty of really interesting stuff one could lightly ponder in an Oz adaptation these days

Aesthetically, art nouveau has always been a big artistic influence for me, and it'd definitely be its time to shine here. John R. Neill's illustrations of the Oz books often keep me company as well. Nouveau architecture in particular fits that fairytale whimsy extremely well imo

I'd allow myself a little bit of art deco here and there, but ultimately its intimidating geometrical splendor is an antithetical to the flowery nature of nouveau and I associate it with a completely different era. Definitely fitting some characters like my Wicked Witch of the West, but shouldn't be overused

One of my main problems with the original BBR was that eventually I lost track of what it was even about; and the original ending felt too mean and unfulfilling to be worth it. Now I'd like to stick to the theme of home and family as my main theme, but in a different, more bittersweet way than in the book

An interesting connection I made is that a lot of my aforementioned older key characters (the Witches, Jinjur, the Nome King, etc) all came from the same reformatory as kids, that's how they know each other. In my recent research I learned that in those reformatories it was usually frowned upon to release the children back to the families, which were seen as the original corrupting influence regardless of the circumstance. The reformatory did everything in its power to cut that connection and make itself the only family those wayward kids were supposed to know and love. That's an unexpected tie into the theme of home that I'd like to explore as well

So yeah that's the current state of it. I have a bunch of outfit concepts I'm slowly cooking, although I'm now sure whether I'd post them... But I do miss these funny guys, and I'm glad some people still do as well :)

[yeokii]

⌗ ADORE YOU ﹕이희승 (TEASER)

꒰ synopsis ꒱ all hopes were crushed when you realized there was no way to get close to your crush, choi beomgyu. your advances to get close to him never seemed to work. so, you decided to get closer to his best friend, heeseung, by joining the broadcasting club. but as scripts change, so do crushes, and you end up falling for his best friend instead.

▸ auditions are open . . . !

ㅤ❕MATCHMAKER ── crush bsf ! heeseung x reader

fast forward  ⃕ [ genre ] : written, fluff, angst, 90s au, unrequited love

meet the members ! beomgyu, gaeul, jungwon, taehyun, juyeon [more tba.]

warnings 𖧷 [only in this scene] unrequited love, yn kinda uses hee, thats all I think

ㅤhe's a real catch ▹ est. 2OK ❨ 이희승 ❩ ⌗ catch adore you here!

⌕ [ archives ] one result found . . . hi (still on hiatus kinda) js came here to post the fic teaser :D (im prolly gna post this after mocks or after my igcses) also ty @yenqa sewlmate for writing the synopsis (ly dookie) send an ask or comment to be added in the taglist !

THE FALL OF NINETEEN-NINETY SIX MARKED A PIVOTAL MOMENT IN YOUR LIFE. Ever since you came into the world, you never really could grasp the concept of love.

You wrapped your head around the myths and tales your mother would read to you every night. You thought that every princess would have her own shining knight in armor. So, after thirteen years of living, where was yours?

Your knight in shining armor, or knights in shining armor, existed within the pages of the comic books you read. You often wondered if they would magically pop out of your books and transport you into their world. Similarly, you wondered whether any of the characters from your adored TV shows would step out and bring you into their lives.

So, it wasn't a surprise when your jaw dropped to the ground as you saw the most beautiful man in your life (well, technically, boy). If the epitome of beauty was a fourteen-year-old boy, it would be Beomgyu.

But it wasn’t just his face that made your thirteen-year-old self swoon over him, it was also the way he acted. You loved the way he conversed, his smooth way of talking at a young age and the way he smiled at you every time he made jokes with his friends. You loved how his eyes lightened every time he’d pull a silly prank.

But the problem was, he never talked to you. You admired him from afar. You never actually had the guts to talk to him, as if. You were content with watching his funny actions from a distance.

There were some moments when you pushed aside your nervousness and talked to him. You remember having butterflies in your stomach the moment you first talked to him. There were times when you both were paired up as project partners for a biology assessment and at that moment, you swore you could’ve worshiped the floor that your biology teacher walked on due to her giving you an opportunity like this.

You knew this was an opportunity to make your move. And you did. You brought him small snacks with little notes on them. Gave him gifts regularly. Maybe even took lessons from your best friend on how to subtly flirt with him. You really thought you had him. Because whenever you used to play out these little acts, you saw the subtle smile on his face. You were so close. It’s like the universe laid it out for you. Gosh, how lucky you were!

Luck. The luck that you thought you had. If luck was a person, you would’ve tackled it to the ground already. Because the day you were about to confess to him was the day he announced his new girlfriend. 

His first girlfriend. You doubt you called it ‘love’ since the only thing she cared about was that he was popular and pretty. That’s it! All that girl could get from Beomgyu was his looks and his reputation. You could’ve scoffed at the sight.

Beomgyu was so much more than that. He was loyal, kind, and trustworthy. And she went for his looks. Even though she had him, you felt as if she was missing out on so much. You were partly sad due to them getting together and also due to Beomgyu getting used to his looks.

So, you were practically prancing when you heard the news of their breakup a month later. Did you care that Beomgyu was absolutely heartbroken? Well, yes, but you felt relieved that Beomgyu was finally unleashed from that mean troll's wrath.

And as he got older, he grew more handsome. And God did you love it. When you entered high school he was a completely different person. He had gotten more flirty and way more pretty. He was way out of your league. 

Out of the years you were in this crappy high school, you made absolutely no improvement in your and Beomgyu’s relationship. Beomgyu, who kept getting new flings every summer and tons of situationships seemed to discard your existence. One could only say ‘What the fuck?’

Your thoughts swirled, and you had a collection of emotions roaming around your head until your best friend jolted you back into reality with a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

“Are you even listening?” Seori’s voice cut through your thoughts, annoyed, since she had to explain what she was talking about in the first place.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” You blinked, focusing your attention on your best friend.

She sighs, “I was saying that I think Doyoung is going to ask me out.” Seori pouts “Why does he not get that I don’t like him that way, jeez.”

Her ramble about her current boy toy washed out in the background. You were once back in your thoughts until you saw him heading into the cafeteria. Beomgyu entered the cafeteria, his smile widening at something his best friend said. 

Lee Heeseung, Beomgyu’s best friend. His ride or die. As long as you can remember, they were attached to the hip. They were basically the package deal. If Beomgyu was the life of the party, Heeseung would hold up his hair while he threw up in the host’s toilet. While Beomgyu was the exact depiction of a social butterfly, Heeseung remained aloof, keeping people at arm’s length. You could only wonder how he dealt with Beomgyu’s outbursting personality.

“Earth to Yn!” Seori snapped her fingers in front of your face which once again, brought you back to reality.

“Sorry.” You sheepishly smiled looking at your best friend's annoyed face. Your friend followed the gaze you had fixed before looking over to her. And her eyes followed the trail of your alleged ‘man’–– Beomgyu.

“Him again.”A sigh erupted from Soeri, having enough of your rambling over your four-year-old crush.

“I’m sorry, alright!” You pouted, your back hunching over the disappointing development between you two which was nowhere to be found. “He’s just so cute, God!”

Your sigh was followed by your best friend. Not long after, your best friend’s fed-up expression converted into a rather eager one.

“I got it!” She exclaimed, her hand hitting your back while she practically screamed. You winced in pain as a few fellow students gave you judgemental stares.

“All you have to do is be close with his best friend, Lee Heeseung.” She slowly said, almost like a mastermind coming up with a villainous plan–well, you would consider your best friend to be some sort of evil criminal.

But this, this opened new angles in your head. It felt like the universe–or more like your best friend–laid it out for you again. Your once unsolvable puzzle showed a new direction, and the missing piece was all in front of you. 

Okay, maybe you felt bad that you were going to use Heeseung like that, even looking forward to it. But, you were really desperate. To the point where you would actually be eager to attend Sunday mass just to ask God for Beomgyu to like you back or even spare one glance at you. Well, what could you do? 

Out of excitement, you pulled Seori in for a hug with a squeal while giving her a kiss on the cheek which she in return, yelped. “Seori, you’re a genius!”

“Yes, I know.” She laughed a bit, escaping your tight grip on her before wiping the spot you kissed her hastily with her hands.

“I mean, how hard could it be?” 

You smiled and your gaze wet up to the boy you loved for most of your life, then slowly to the equally handsome boy.

Jackpot.

adore you tags . @wonsbaer @isoobie @armydrcamers @heegyuwrld @nxzz-skz @txtlyn @enhastolemyheart @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @sumzysworld @eleanorheartschishiya @petalsofink @bluujeans @jvjsssnaa @iamliacamila @m3chigo @oldjws @kyrjnie @heartswonn @aeminju @en-dream @yeahsspider @imstupidcheesecat [closed]

tags . @flwoie @zuyairus @bubblytaetae @yenqa @haknom @redm4ri @hanniluvi @haechansbbg @taejaysreads @shinunoga-iie-wa @teddywonss

[pauli-writes]

Could I request Dan Heng getting jealous of his tail because his s/o keeps hugging it instead of him?

warnings: people talking about feelings, hints of self esteem issues, so much affection, hurt/comfort?, suggestive ending

pairing: dan heng x reader

author’s note: this is sort of connected to this, but can be read on its own. thank you so much for requesting anon! i changed it up slightly, i hope you still enjoy it though. not proofread :,)

when you first saw him in his full vidyadhara form you could not stop gushing about how pretty he looks.

you already thought regular dan heng was the prettiest person you’ve ever seen, but then you saw him and march 7th had to make sure you were still breathing by how red your face was turning.

“reader, please calm down,” he had said red tinted cheeks as you gushed over him, with most everyone present and watching the two of you in amusement, especially the general.

you only continued, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, “but you’re so pretty!”

this conversation continued until the stay on the xianzhou for the astral express was over.

now, dan heng didn’t want to accuse you of loving his other form more, but he also couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy every time you complimented it. it felt as if his regular self wasn’t enough for you anymore. it also didn’t help that you started messing around with his tail whenever it appeared.

another quiet night on the express and you carried all of you blankets and pillows to the archive, as you walked in dan heng was busy with the databank like usual.

you build your little blanket nest and sat down in it, waiting for him to join you. “dan heng, come on.”

he only sighed at your whining, “just a moment. i’m almost done.”

you pouted, something was off. it’s not like him to dismiss you so brazenly, when he dismissed you it was usually more on the playful side. you got up and tiptoed over to where he stood, you wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him from behind. “are you alright? did you have another nightmare? you can talk to me, you know.”

he let out another sigh, touched by your concern for him, and turned around to face you. “it’s stupid.”

“march says stupid things all the time,” you countered with your usual upbeat smile, “come on, humour me.”

“do you-“ he paused, squirming a little nervously, “do you like my other form better?”

you looked at him confused, “why would you think that?”

“it just feels that way when you keep complimenting me and being all touchy.”

“i’m touchy all the time.”

“i know. i told you it’s stupid-“ you cut him off by giving him a short kiss, as you pulled away you were smiling softly at him, while he was a little stunned by your action.

“it’s not stupid,” you started to intertwine your hands with his, “i’m sorry i made you feel that way.”

he smiled back at you. he always appreciated how serious you took everyone’s feelings. he properly intertwined your hands and pulled you down to sit on your blanket nest. he sat down and leaned against the wall and you immediately sat down next to him and put your head on his shoulder. dan heng automatically wrapped his arms around your shoulders. “it’s alright. i guess with everything that happened on the luofu my emotions got a little… weird.”

you nodded understandingly, “you don’t have to explain yourself. i’m glad we’ve talked about this.”

dan heng nodded as well, “me too. now, what do you want to do tonight?”

you thought for a moment, before a mischievous smile appeared on your lips and you went to sit on his lap, startling him a little.

“how about i show you just how much i love you just the way you are?”

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Belle Mort || LN4

AN: this was deep in the archives of abandoned fics but figured I’ll just post it anyway.

Pairing: Lando Norris x vampire!fem!reader

Summary: Your paths weren’t meant to cross - he was a famous driver and your brethren were the thing of myths and nightmares.

Warnings: smut, major character death

He didn’t belong here.

You could only surmise Vinny let him in the club because he knew an easy target when he saw one. Rich, young and handsome - he was ripe for the taking. A part of you knew not to get involved but, unlike your brother, you had a small conscience, especially when it came to the pretty, blue-eyed man who had shared your bed.

Making your way across the busy dance floor of Belle Mort, you snaked between the women who were selling themselves to the richest man one sway of their hips at a time. You slapped away roaming hands that tried to pull you into their laps and glared at the men until they looked away with wounded egos.

Your brother spotted the target and you stepped lightly in your high heels as you dodged the revellers, finally making it in front of the handsome man. “Qu'est-ce que tu fais, garçon perdu?”

Lando smirked as he cast his eyes over your body, the tight fitted dress hiding very little of the body he knew intimately. “I don’t speak French.”

“I know.”

His hand caught your waist and pulled you closer, his lips brushing your cheek. “You didn’t call me.”

You rolled your eyes at the need that laced his words, but it would have been a lie to say you hadn’t thought about it. You had even kept his number when you should have deleted it. Your worlds were so far apart you didn’t see the point in making it more than a one night stand, it was safer that way. “I know. Find another bar.”

“I like this one.” His hand tightened and his thumb brushed over your ribs, tracing the curve under your breast. His smirk grew as he felt your ribs expand with the sharp intake of air you took.

“You’ve never been here before.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I own it.”

“Co-own, dear sister,” Nix added as he stepped to your side. “And if Lando wants to party then who are we to deny him.”

You narrowed your eyes at your brother. “It’s bad for business.”

“Why? Because you mixed it with pleasure,” he laughed as he ruffled your hair, cracking your neck as he pushed you away to leer at the man himself. “I can see the appeal. No one can deny you have good taste, it’s just a shame you always leave them broken.”

“What’s he talking about?” Lando asked as he helped keep you steady from your brother's push.

“Nix has always been jealous of me, haven’t you?” you taunted him. “Always wanted my dolls for himself.”

Nix’s jaw ticked and if the music wasn’t so loud you probably could have heard a tooth break. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

“I’m on a break,” you stated, catching Lando’s attention as you grabbed his wrist and started to drag him to your office before freezing. Your hand met bare skin and you held your hand out to your brother. “Give it back. Now.”

Nix rolled his eyes but reached into his pocket to return the watch he had easily lifted from Lando. The glass and diamond face slapped into your palm but you curled a brow at him and cleared your throat, waiting for the rest.

“You really used to be more fun,” he grumbled as he returned Lando’s wallet too. “Don’t worry, the condom is still in there.”

“And the cash?”

“I don’t think that is really your worry, but yes, cash too.”

Nix disappeared into the crowd and even you found it difficult to trace his movements but he was one of the fastest vampires you knew.

“Interesting family you have,” Lando commented as the music was cut off with your office door.

“You should be more careful,” you warned as you slid the security chain onto the latch. “This side of town could get a guy like you killed.”

“A guy like me?” he asked as he accepted the whiskey you poured, neat. “Handsome?”

“Well known,” you corrected, despite his knowing smirk. Of course you found him handsome, or else you wouldn’t have let him fuck you in the bathrooms of another nightclub in the city. You had a business meeting, with a wolf no less, and the owner had left you displeased, so you found another form of pleasure in his den. “Where you go, pictures are taken. That is bad for my business.”

Who knew what illegal activities those pictures or videos might capture and be uploaded. Voices had been silenced for less in the dark alleys around the club - but the bodies were never found.

Lando took a sip as he weighed your words of warning, but it didn’t stop him wanting to go another round with you. He knew you were different from the moment he saw you. Determination and strength rolled off you as you stalked through the club to a door labelled ‘staff only’. A different look of determination had been seen when you emerged, scanning the crowd for someone to use - he had come to the club for the same reason.

“I can be invisible, when I want to be,” he promised as he followed you to the desk you leaned back on, crossing your heeled ankles in front of you. He placed the glass on the wood beside you and smelt the smooth spirit on his breath when he kissed the corner of your lips. “But I wanted you to notice me, again.”

His hand ran down your thighs and your ankles uncrossed. He took the space given and parted your legs so he could step between them and steal your moan with his kiss. His tongue parted your lips with the same confidence he parted your legs and he hummed when your hands slipped under his shirt, your nails dragging down his spine.

“I’m going to fuck you on your desk and every time you have a meeting here you will think of me.”

Desire pooled between your thighs at the promise and when his fingers found your body bare beneath the dress he felt it slick and warm. “You like that idea don’t you?” he chuckled in your ear, the deep timber of his gravelled voice making you clench around his fingers before they withdrew from you. “Turn around.”

For a woman who considered herself to be the bossy one, you were quick to follow his instruction and it didn’t go amiss from the smirk on his face. “I don’t remember you being this demanding last time,” you said over your shoulder, feeling the air on your skin as he pushed your dress up over your hips.

“That’s because you looked like you needed it more than me.” He flipped his wallet open and pulled the condom out, tearing through the foil packaging before rolling it down his hard length. With one swipe of his arm he cleared space on your desk and started to push you down before he changed his mind and spun you to face him. “Actually, I want to see your face when I make you come.”

The mahogany wood was hard under your ass and you spread your knees for Lando to step between. His cock pressed to your entrance and he watched your lips part as he slowly began to stretch you, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside you.

“You’re going to call me, aren’t you?” he asked with the teasingly slow retreat he made. He stopped just short of leaving you empty and made no move to fill you again. “I’m not going to fuck you until you answer me.”

You tried to shuffle your hips closer but he held them tight and your feet were off the ground so you couldn’t move, not without revealing your unnatural strength. Finally a frustrated sound left your lips and he smiled triumphantly when you agreed. “Now would you please fuck me?”

He answered with the snap of his hips and you moaned in unison as he filled you completely. The computer screen came to life and the mouse moved with the rocking desk and the cup of pens tipped over, scattering among the mess he had already made. Stars danced across your vision and your body pulsed with the deep bass that made it through the soundproof door.

“Lando,” you moaned as you tipped his head back, baring his neck as you felt your canines elongating behind your lips. The throb of his rapid pulse invited you to taste him and you dragged your nose over the vein, inhaling the rich scent hidden beneath his cologne. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

He shivered as your teeth grazed his skin but he was too far gone in his pleasure to question the sharp points. Just a little sip, you told yourself.

Lando gasped as pain flared, but just as quickly as it came it bled to a burn that felt better than any high he had ever had. He couldn’t breathe as you sucked at the puncture wounds, filling your belly with the same need you had for his cock.

He couldn’t explain how he found himself sat on the couch in your office with you on his lap, he had only blinked. You were high on him, making silly errors like using your speed and strength carelessly. You weren’t new to this life, but you were acting like it with him.

“Why did you come here?”

His head fell back and his eyes closed as you took your pleasure in riding him. He couldn’t think, there was only the tight feeling in all his muscles as his orgasm threatened to shatter him beneath you. “Just wanted you,” he choked as he bucked his hips up to meet you. “Again.”

You cried out as your climax peaked and Lando followed, unable to hold back with how tight you felt around him. Your head spun as the high receded, but you wanted more - it was the curse of immortality, you always wanted more.

You turned his head and struck again, lapping at the twin lines of life blood running down his collar. Cursing inwardly, you realised you were taking too much, you always took too much when you played with your food. Lando’s eyes fluttered shut and his breathing laboured, his skin fading before your eyes. Nix was right, you always left them broken.

“Fuck,” you growled at the thought of losing another man. Tearing the skin from your wrist you made what was possibly the second biggest mistake of your life, the first would always be asking for this life. Your blood was thicker and darker than his, staining his lips as you squeezed it out before the wound could heal.

“Wake up…” You prayed you weren’t too late, the seconds ticking by with quiet reassurance that time would continue to move on even if Lando never did again.

—

Nix crashed through the office door as dawn approached and the club closed. His black eyes found Lando’s body on the couch and a sneer carved across his lips. “What a waste.”

You barely lifted your head from your hands as you sat at your desk. You had felt lethargic from a full belly and drained veins. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You never do,” he snickered. “There will be people looking for him, I’ll have Vinny dump him in the marina - another rich boy who partied too hard.”

Lando gasped as he jolted upright, his eyes ringed red from the transformation, and a war waged within you. Rage exuded from Nix as he realised the danger you had put the entire coven in and his features sharpened as his fangs pierced his lips. “You would bring the Council down on our heads, sister?”

“I said I didn’t mean to. I just couldn’t stand to see another die because of my weakness.”

“I would rather you have just killed him.” Nix pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. To change a human required petitioning to the Council, and permits were rarely given this century - and certainly not to those well known. People tend to notice when someone doesn’t age at the same rate: Jennifer Anniston, Cillian Murphy, Paul Rudd, Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Those half breeds could get away with it for a little longer but they would soon be faking their own deaths to keep the secret of their heritage.

“Take him to the mountains,” Nix said as he crossed the room to where Lando writhed in pain on the carpet, the transition destroying his delicate human cells for something much more robust. “I’ll tie up the loose ends here.”

Nix took the car keys from Lando’s pocket and checked his watch. There was still enough time before dawn came to wreck the car off the cliffs and into the French Riviera. When the car was found empty they would assume his body was carried out to sea. Lando Norris was dead. Lando de Belle Mort had risen.

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 4

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Mentions of Cannibalism, Choking

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Ok, so clearly I'm a big fat liar. I'm sorry this chapter also took ages. I think I'm just a slow writer lmao. Anyway, it was fun writing this so I hope you guys enjoy it. As always, thanks for all the lovely comments I appreciate them a lot. Take care and have a good one!

"Where is he?" you snarl as you march through the halls gripping Iassa's choker. "Where is the na-Baron?" Your voice a threat.

"He is doing his morning drills, my lady," Zora, your new servant chases after you, growing increasingly panicked, "he trains with the Warmaster."

You pick up your pace, "Take me to him." When Zora hesitates, you yell, "Now!"

When you arrive, Feyd-Rautha is sparring with who you assume to be the Harkonnen Warmaster in a shallow recessed pit in the center of the training room.

"Where is she?" you call from the doorway, your voice filled with vitriol.

Your unexpected presence catches Feyd-Rautha off-guard and his sparring partner manages to cut his right abdomen through his shield. He growls at the Warmaster and snaps his head to you, "I am preoccupied at the moment, my lady."

"Where is Iassa?" your glare pierces through him.

"Who?" he asks genuinely confused.

Your grip on the choker tightens, "Don't pretend. The servant girl assigned to me. You left this in my room, didn't you?" The realization he had snuck into your quarters while you were asleep quietly creeps on you. "What have you done with her."

"Ah," he tilts his head, ignoring his bleeding wound, "I thought about just cutting her tongue out." A smirk grows on his lips, "but my darlings were hungry."

It was only then you noticed his concubines in the room, lounging in a corner of pillows. Their sharp-toothed grins only stoked your fury.

You scoff in anger, "because she revealed your farce? Are you so insecure?"

Is cocky expression evolves into a glare. "Leave us," he orders, eyes staying on yours. Servants flood out of the room asking with the Warmaster but it seems his pets were exempt from this command. "Why do you cry for a girl you knew less than two days?"

He was right. Why do you care so much? You were hardly 'close' with Iassa. You've had servants on Caladan and you were never particular with any of them. Would you anger for them the same way? Why must you suddenly be a paragon of justice? And at the risk of the Harkonnens' contempt?

When you remain speechless, the na-Baron continues, "You may not be familiar with slaves but here, their death is inconsequential—save for the economics of it all."

"Is that so?" You look at his pets then back at him. Your breath is dragon-like and your tone hardens, "then relieve your concubines."

"What?" Feyd-Rautha's low voice echoes through the room. His concubines hiss at you from their raised platform.

You stand taller, shoulders back, still clutching Iassa's choker in your hand, "If I am to be your wife, I demand you take no other women."

He takes a moment to determine how serious you are being, then decides it doesn't matter. He walks up the steps surrounding the pit and you aren't given time to react before he has your neck in his grip. "You are in no place to demand such things, Atreides." His black gritted teeth at the last word match the darkness of his voice.

Your hands fly to claw at his wrist, "How dare you lay a hand on me." You struggle against his unrelenting grip, "Let go of me!"

He leans down to your ear, "You're a feisty one, aren't you, little hawk?" You feel his hold continue to tighten and panic rises in your chest. Before you can be rendered speechless, you make a decision.

"UNHAND ME."

The Voice echos from your mouth seizing Feyd-Rautha's mind and his hand releases your throat. As you gasp desperately for air, he attempts to recover from the haze of the mental intrusion. When he finds his bearings, you see the thrill in his dark eyes. Witch, you can almost hear him say.

"Aren't you just full of surprises," he smirks.

"And I will have many more," you say bitterly. Straightening your dress, you regain your self-assured stance and meet his eyes with a cold stare, "Be rid of your harpies before we are wed or I will kill them myself."

You don't spare his concubines a glance as you turn to leave. You don't see the way Feyd-Rautha looks at you, head tilted, as you storm off.

You dismiss Zora and lock yourself in your chambers. Sprawled out on your bed, you stare up at the dark gray ceiling and question what could have possibly possessed you to challenge Feyd-Rautha the way you did. You go back and forth on whether or not it was an overreaction but eventually chalk it up to the Atreides' fiery defiance. Certainly, it wasn't the brightest decision but you sense that your father and brother would not have condemned it. Your heart is still pounding from the encounter. And the flicker in Fey-Rautha's eyes—you dismiss the idea that he might have enjoyed it.

You had hoped to hide your mother's training for longer. She had trained you and Paul in The Voice and Prana-Bindu. As a high-born lady, you could have been sent to a Bene Gesserit School in your formative years, but it was decided against due to Baron Vladimir's thinly veiled aversion to The Sisterhood. So, Lady Jessica resolved to teach you in secret. You were grateful for it anyway as you didn't have to be separated from your family. You think about how your mother would be able to continue to train Paul without you. You had always been more adept at The Voice than him. Now, he has the opportunity to surpass you. The thought triggers your competitiveness against your sibling but the feeling quickly melts into melancholy. You miss him. You miss all of them.

Is this to be your life? Married to a twisted psycho who feeds his concubines human flesh and kills people you care about? You sit up and place Iassa's choker carefully in the drawer of your nightstand. You hoped she didn't fear you as she did the Harkonnens.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door. You had really hoped no one would bother you for the rest of the day but then you feel the emptiness in your stomach. You had skipped breakfast that day to confront the na-Baron. When you open the door, Zora is holding a covered tray which you assumed, and hoped, to be lunch.

"Would my lady like to eat in solitude?" she asks after she sets your meal at the small table in your quarters. Your heart sinks. She is so young.

"Ah no, I would like you to stay if that's alright." You sit at your table and cut into your food while Zora stands politely to the side. "I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier. The na-Baron—my fiancé—he has caused me some aggravation."

"It is quite alright, my lady," she says, her head bowed low.

After your meal, you ask Zora to fetch you various projections on the planet of Giedi Prime from the Harkonnen archives. You were hesitant to make the request considering the fate of your last servant but you hoped you managed to convince Feyd-Rautha you were not to be trifled with. Besides, what harm could you do by learning about flora and fauna.

You spent the rest of the day watching informative holograms about your new home's ecology and biodiversity. Apparently, one of the planet's greatest exports is wood from the Pilingitam tree which is prized for its pliability when freshly cut but sturdy hardness once aged and dried. It was also anti-fungal and naturally fire-resistant. It was a surprise you didn't see much of it. Everything in the fortress was cold stone and concrete. You wonder how beautiful furniture made out of Pilingitam must be when carved by a skilled artist.

That night, you make sure to lock your door and fall asleep to images of sprawling landscapes.

The following day was similarly spent, watching projections about Giedi Prime's geographical features. You were left undisturbed save for Zora's quiet knocks on your door to serve your meals. Your life as a baroness is days away so you might as well educate yourself. Although, you suppose you should probably focus on politics and history more than the planet's Obsidian Planes but you weren't really in the mood to learn of the Harkonnens' gruesome past right now. You would cross that bridge when you got there.

Come evening, you hear an unfamiliar knock at your door. Zora had already brought you dinner earlier so you are wary as you crack open the door.

"Hello, little hawk." Feyd-Rautha's tall figure looms past the doorway.

You stare him down, making no move to let him in.

He tilts his head slightly, "Would you really kill my darlings?"

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove

[figsnpassionfruits]

Confessions

a/n: this is basically a chapter from my now deleted fic. the reader here is an artist; but this can be ignored if you wish so :) word count: 3.1k tags: arthur morgan x fem!reader, smut, angst, kinda fluff?, 'what are we' - trope warnings: smut, unclear rs status, age gap, creampie, 18+, mdni dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive pictures are from pinterest

“Horses are taken care of.” You said, taking off your shoes and coat before throwing yourself down on the soft texture of the mattress in the hotel room. With the relaxation of your body came the torment of your mind. Now all there was to do was to think. Think about what to say; think about what to change and think about what to do. “What’s the plan now?” You asked, breaking the silence.

Arthur peeked up from the table he was standing by, stopping the action of writing into his diary for a brief second. “Don’t know, sweetheart. Dutch keeps talkin’ about money. They want to get Bronte out the way to rob somethin’ bigger. Somethin’ that’s worth all the shootin’.”

“And then what?”

“Camp wants to get away. Dutch is talkin’ about some place called Tahiti. But I just don’t know any more what I want.”

Hearing those words were painful. After all this time, it seemed like his camp was still what was the most important thing to him. If they all left after getting the money they needed; he would follow. You were not present in those plans. How could you be? Arthur had refused to let you meet them for the longest time now. It was not like he was in the wrong. Yet, it still hurt. No matter what would happen he would be with his camp. And you? You were insignificant.

Noticing your silence, Arthur let out a sigh before putting down his diary. He slowly walked over to the bedframe, letting the weight of him drop down to the mattress. After still not looking up at him, he took a finger to place it underneath your chin, guiding your face up to create eye contact. “What is it that ya want, dove?”

“I want a lot.”

“Tell me then.”

“It’s stupid.”

“It can’t be.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you moved your frame to the middle of the bed, creating space for him to sit on.

Arthur placed a hand now on the side of your head, gently pressing down on it to make you lay your head on his shoulder.

“I want a farm.” You started. “And a gallery, made out of glass, just for my paintings.”

“That so?” Arthur smiled, placing a kiss on your temple.

You hummed to confirm your statement, playing with your fingers, being a little embarrassed after saying your wishes out loud.

“And where exactly would those things be?” Arthur questioned, taking a hand of yours to stop you from fidgeting with them. He had recognized your nervousness. Now again, the age gap made itself be present. You had dreams and a goal in life. For him, that was already over. All he could do was be a servant to the ones who were still fighting. His loyalty was set on the gang. That did not mean that he would simply abandon you for them. Yet, he was torn. Life had given him too many things to balance. It was on him to decide what to throw out of the equation to move things forward.

“Big Valley, maybe? I always tend to go there.”

“Big Valley, huh?”

“Yea, why?”

Arthur let out a chuckle before answering. “That’s the place we first met.”

“Oh.” You giggled. Another silence occurred, forcing the both of you to wrestle with your thoughts again. There was a certain tension in the room; as if things were left unspoken. You had so much to ask him: ‘What about me? What about us? When will you leave? What will I do once you do?’ But where were you supposed to start? Collecting your courage to confront him, you sat up, leaning your body weight on the hand that was propped up on him, earning you a puzzled look from Arthur. “Arthur, I- what are we doing here?”

“What?”

“What is this? We’re always together. We hug and cuddle but what are we doing?”

Arthur continued to stare at you, scanning his eyes all over your face, unable to read your emotions as you questioned your relationship with him. “I-“

“I was hoping you wanted me the way I want you.” There it was. The confession you had bundled up in your chest for weeks. There was no turning back now. You had poured out your heart to him in a single sentence. All that was left for you to do now was to listen what we would say. By looking at him, you could see the wheels in his head turning. He was trying desperately to think before talking.

“I do want ya, sweetheart.” Arthur confessed, placing a hand on your arm, rubbing it affectionately. “It’s just-“ He closed his eyes for a brief moment, smacking his lips once before continuing. “How could a pretty little thin’ like you get out of an old man like me?”

“Arthur, no.” You moaned, moving your body closer to his to place your palm on his brunette beard. “Why would I care about you being older than me?” You knew about the concerns Arthur had about the two of you from his diary entries. Yet this was the first time he confessed it to you verbally. “Arthur you’re the sweetest and kindest man I have ever laid my eyes on. When you asked me before what I want- I wanted to say ‘you’. I wanted to say ‘us’.” You roamed your hands all over his saddened face now, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose, making him look at you. “I want us to happen, Arthur. I wanna be yours.” As your voice got quieter but needier, you moved his arm away from his torso, gathering your courage to sit on his lap, your hands still placed near his face. “Please.” You begged, starting to slowly move your hips on his groin. “Call me yours.”

Arthur clenched his jaw at your words, slamming his eyes shut for a second before giving into your devotion. He places his rough hands on your face, pulling you down to him to slam his lips onto yours.

His harsh handling alone made you moan into the kiss, moving your lips to the rhythm of his. It did not take too long for the both of you to roam each other’s mouths with your tongues, the act getting more frantic as the milliseconds passed.

Arthur placed his hands onto your rear, squeezing it tightly and pulling you closer to him to release the tension that had now formed in his tight black pants. He sat up fully, moving his hands now to grasp your hips, flipping you over onto your back. For a second, he broke the kiss, looking into your eyes, scanning you for any hesitation. Not finding any, he dived back into the kiss, causing your heart to beat faster and faster in anticipation.

“Arthur…” You whimpered against his lips, thrusting your lower body in an attempt to get more friction to your heat.

“I know, darlin’.” He whispered, moving his hands down your body, the calloused skin feeling like rocks against your soft frame.

Being displeased about the fact that you were both fully clothed, you took matters into your own hands, leaning on your elbows to pull Arthur shirt over his head after you undid the first few upper buttons.

After mirroring the same action, Arthur slid his hand to your now exposed neck, sucking on skin next to it. He opted to slide his other down to your pants, bringing you closer by gripping the thin fabric, pressing your naked chests closer.

“Take off your clothes.” You managed to whisper in between hungry kisses.

A quiet chuckle rumbled through his chest before he obligated to your request, pulling down his pants propping himself on one arm that was placed next to head on the mattress.

While he was occupied with his, you took off your own, leading to the both of you exposing all of your skin. Placing your hands back on his neck, you pulled him down to you, your lips not being able to get enough of his.

Unhurried, Arthur slithered his hand down your stomach, moving it closer to your cunt. Once there, he cupped it gently, making you moan quietly as you thrusted your hip against it.

“Easy, sweetheart.” He grumbled, the feeling of his hand on your heat sucking the air from your chest.

Your lips brushed against the shell of his ear as he started to move his head down, a shaky groan rolling through his chest as a response.

Setting his hands on the back of your knees, Arthur flipped your legs up, moving an arm of his to hold them up with a single limb. The fresh air hit your warm cunt, causing you to bite your lip at not only the feeling but also on the sight in front of you. “Please.” You begged, tilting your head at the man who was keeping you in place.

The pecks he delivered to your inner thighs travelled closer and closer to where you wanted him, his eyes on you like a predator stalking his prey. He had never heard sounds as pretty as the ones you were giving him, begging to be touched. A thick finger of his swiped through your wet folds, wanting to hear your melodies again. “You’re already soaked for me, dove.” He rasped before putting his face closer to you, his beard tickling your delicate skin. It did not take his tongue long to find your bundle of joy, flicking it continuously, making you close your eyes and lean your head back into the cushions.

“God, Arthur.” You moaned, your voice getting higher from the way your nerves were getting tickled by the sensation.

“Ya taste so good.” He murmured, crawling back up to you to engulf you in another heated kiss, demanding you to taste yourself on his tongue. Arthur began to sink his middle finger into you, deepening the kiss for only a split second before he propped himself back up, staring into your eyes to make sure it felt okay. “This alright, sweetheart?”

You nodded, letting out small gasps in a pathetic attempt to respond to him.

Arthur cooed at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as you squirmed. “Don’t gotta talk. That nod’s good enough. Lemme take care of ya.” His voice got lower and lower with each word, the lust in his body taking over. The finger inside you was curled now, pulling small moans from you. For him, the sounds you were making came straight from heaven. Why did the two of you refuse this for so long?

“I need you inside me.” You cried softly, moving your hips faster against his hand.

“Easy, now.” Arthur rebuked, pulling his hand out of you, causing you to let out a whine. “Ya wanna take me already?”

Giving yourself a small moment to think about his question, you shook your head, making Arthur tilt his head. “I wanna taste you as well.” You demanded, pushing his body off you to put yourself on all fours.

Arthur was now on his knees, allowing you to take control for the meantime. His already hard cock was in front you, throbbing and asking to be touched in any way. As you put a hand on his dick, Arthurs hands travelled to your hair, holding it back and out of your face to allow himself to have no blockage of the view. With eyes set on his blue ones, you licked a trail from his base to his tip, causing Arthur to let out a low moan as he leaned his head back. After all the years of torment and stress his body has been going through, this was needed; badly.

You wrapped your lips around his cock, focusing on the tip when you swirled your tongue as you bopped your head. Your hand was travelling along on his cock, making sure to stroke what you were not able to fit into your mouth.

“You’re a pretty little thing, ain’t ya? Good girl.” Arthur cussed, the breath in his voice hitching as you kept sucking him off.

As a reply you hummed around him, Arthur whimpering at the sound of it.

“Just lemme-“ Arthur noted, placing a hand on the back of your neck while the other found his way below your chin. “Keep yer mouth open for me, darlin’, alright?”

You looked up at him, nodding once to let him know whatever was coming was okay for you. You noticed the hesitation in him. Arthur required your approval for every single thing he wished to do. The poor man had been through so much in his life. This was a way for you to let him release it all. If anyone deserved it, it was Arthur.

With your permission, he started to thrust into your mouth, the action creating vulgar sounds that filled the hotel room.

“Got the prettiest little throat.” Arthur groaned, saying the words in between the fast thrusts he was doing. He licked his lips once before moderately slowing them down, only to push your head further into him, letting go of you once you gagged. A trail of spit remained glued from his cock to your lips when you pulled back, his eyes darkening with craving at the sight of it.

After collecting your breath, you looked up at the man from your hands and knees, flashing a big smile and biting your bottom lip.

“Ya really like this, don’t cha?”

You hummed in approval, a hand of yours pumping his cock, refusing to leave it without any attention. “Now, I want you inside of me.”

As a reply, Arthur flipped you onto your back again, one single hand holding both of your legs up by the back of your knees. He first placed a thumb on your clit, skillfully rubbing a figure eight against the sensitive patch.

The eye contact you both remained could turn anyone primal. Sucking air in between your teeth, you moaned his name, needy to feel his cock in you.

Once he removed his hand from your heat, Arthur soaked in the view from your wet folds, this angle allowing him to take in each pore.

In protest from the lack of touch, you slid your own hand down your body, rubbing yourself with three fingers.

Instead of fighting for the control, Arthur simply watched your hand, enjoying the sight of your delicate fingers rubbing against your glistening body. “No art of yers is gonna be able to touch the beauty of this.”

You giggled at his words, your heartbeat speeding up as he propped himself up, licking his own hand for some lubrication to rub it on his tip before pumping his shaft a few times. Once he contacted your skin, he rubbed himself against your soaked cunt. As he sank himself slowly into you, you hissed at the feeling of being stretched out by the man you were in love with. To get him closer to you, you put a hand on the back of his neck, forcing him to lean his forehead against yours as he disappeared in you, inch by inch, letting out a long and low groan as he did.

“Atta girl,” He breathed out, the large hand he had placed on your legs now gripping tighter onto the thin skin there. “Takin’ me so good already.”

“You feel so good.” You moaned out, pupils wide and mouth hanging open at the filling feeling of him inside you. Your pulse was now at its high, your heart feeling like it could burst out of your chest.

Arthur placed several light kisses on your legs, hip hips now slowly going back and forth, watching his cock get more soaked with each time he pulled back of you. After a while of repeating this, he struggled with holding himself back from gaining speed, asking you if it was alright for him to take things faster. With a nod and still the deep stare into his eyes, he began to pick up pace to a more relentless one, pumping his cock into you, setting a pace that was rough, yet not animalistic.

The pressure in your abdomen continued to boil, the speed of his thrusts being exactly what you needed. The desperation in your moans and whines built themselves up, your legs squirming more and more, causing Arthur to grip your body painfully now to keep himself steady and to not crush your frame with his weight.

A hand that Arthur previously had on your breasts, moved down to your clit once more, rubbing the spot gently, yet rapid.

Your thighs began to shake, a hand of your own now shutting your own mouth, trying to keep yourself quiet from the amount of pleasure Arthur was giving to you.

“You’re okay.” Arthur groaned, a hint of desperation behind his voice, nipping at the skin on your calves as you continued to shake.

Loud cries escaped your mouth as his thumb rubbed the circles faster and faster. With a whine of his name your walls clenched around his cock, tightly wrapping it.

To allow you to come down from your high, Arthur stopped his thrusts, letting go of your legs to lean down to kiss your closed eyelids which were fluttering. “Ya alright?” He asked, doing his best to keep his movements as minimal as possible while being buried deep in you.

You nodded, smiling at him. “Want you to come inside me.”

Arthur smirked at you, moving his body in a way that allowed you to spread your legs only for you to wrap them around his core. The feeling of your legs tight against him caused him to go back to his relentless speed in a matter of seconds, eliminating the quiet moment you just had, filling the air again with the sound of skins slapping and your frantic cries.

“W-want you to fill me up.” You managed to say in between your euphoria, and that was all that Arthur needed to convince him.

With a couple more bruising thrusts he buried himself to a halt, emptying himself in hot intervals into you, groaning loudly. Arthur lazily leaned his forehead to yours, smiling at you with his eyes closed. “Jesus.”

“Not quite.” You giggled, making him roll his eyes at your comment. When he tried to remove himself, you shut your legs tighter around him, silently asking him to stay buried in you for only a little bit longer.

Arthur wrapped his arms around you, puling you closer to him, lingering kisses all over your face.

You brushed your nose against his when he travelled his lips from one side to another, forcing a bigger smile from him.

🍯

[ellana-ravenwood]

“I HATE YOU !” - Batfam/Batkids x fem!reader/Batmom

Synopsis : Not everything is always made of sunshines and rainbows. Sometimes, things go wrong. Sometimes, your children lash out at you, and scream : “I hate you !” before storming off...A story about how you handle those burst of anger from each of your kids, over the span of a few years.

Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form. Do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you.

My masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives​

_________________________________________________

DICK 

"I HATE YOU !!” 

He screams, running off and closing the door behind him violently. 

BANG !!

You’re not sure that “bang” is the sound of the door slamming, or your heart breaking. 

This was the first time your child said something so hurtful to you. And it was quite a shock. You weren’t sure how to react. 

As if moved by instinct, Bruce immediately moved next to you, and put an arm around your shoulder, as if to shield you from the hurt. It was only a little bit comforting...

When he was younger, Dick struggled greatly with his anger. He had trouble managing it, and it’s only after a big fight with Bruce, and some times apart, that he truly started to understand himself, and become the man he was now. 

The reason he left with the Titans, and then later, left for Bludhaven...was his mismanaged anger. And it was also yours and Bruce’s fault. You were still new parents, you were still learning, you didn’t always have the best reactions. 

Bruce would react with anger too, which he knew now was the worst thing he could do. But to his defense (and you would always defend him), he was also just processing his trauma, and trying to navigate how to “tackle” his son’s own traumatic experience. He wasn’t sure how to act, with that kid. 

He was too strict, he expected too much, because he wanted Dick to NOT reiterate his own mistakes. He wanted his boy to feel better, to be able to be happy...something he thought he could never be again, before meeting you. 

It took a very long time for Bruce, to get out of this dark pit he buried himself in. He didn’t want Dick to take the same path. He wanted him to NOT be a second “Batman”. He wanted him to be his own man. 

Which lead to a lot of mistakes. But hey, you couldn’t be a perfect parent all the time. And let’s admit it, Dick wasn’t always easy to handle. Especially during his fits of anger, which he sometimes had when he was young, and which slowly disappeared during his teenage years (although even today, if you truly managed to make him angry, he could get quite scary...Ah, but like father like son). 

You didn’t even remember why he told you “I hate you”, it was all a blur now, years later. But you remember how you felt. 

Heartbroken, like you failed as a parent. As if you weren’t enough for that little boy, who had lost everything and was “forced” to become part of your family. 

That simple “I hate you” had triggered so many questions in yours and Bruce’s mind. How could you react ? Not like he gave you the time to, as he left the room right away. 

What was the right reaction ? What if he did truly hate you ? What could you do to salvage this relationship ? What-

You were both so lost. 

You would do many more mistakes as parents, but that day-

That day, things got resolved on their own, as Dick came back a few moments later, with an apologetic look on his face. 

It was clear he wanted to pretend nothing had happened. Yet, that child had already a lot more emotional intelligence than most, and instead of ignoring everything, he just said : 

“You know I love you, right ?” 

And that was the end of it. And a first step to understand an important, and key thing about raising a child : sometimes, they WILL lash out at you. And say they hate you. But they never truly mean it. It’s just a way of processing an overwhelming amount of negative emotions. A way to protect themselves. 

“I hate you.”, often comes from the opposite feeling. They love you so much, but they’re angry, and they think of the first thing that could hurt you and-

Dick never said it again after that. In fact, it was almost a biggest traumatic experience to him, than it was to you. Because he hated feeling this ugly things, and he hated hurting others, especially not those he loved. “I hate you”, were words he never meant towards anyone. He felt so bad, about telling them to you and Bruce, who took him in as your own child. 

But beyond that, what made him entirely stop even thinking about saying that again. Beyond that, he never said it again, even when he fought with his dad, because he knew. He never crossed that limit again, because he knew. Him most of everyone, knew. Life was so short, and what if the last thing he told you or Bruce was : “I hate you ?” 

He could never forgive himself. And for him too, this was an important step. One step closer, to controlling his anger, to understand himself, to let himself feel, and explain his feelings. 

Yes. This first “I hate you”, was an important moment for all of you. Parents, and child. A first stone set upon a building, that would grow each year. A first experience showing that not everything could be perfect, and that mistakes would be made. 

But as long as you were there for each others, and as long as you knew that no matter what, you would always love one another...You’d pull through the hardest times. 

JASON

Talking about the hardest of times. 

Jason was a good kid. He never once told you he hated you, before his death. On the contrary. The boy never shied away from expressing his feelings. 

He would outright tell you and Bruce, that he loved you. He would show you by countless kind acts towards you two, that he was the happiest he’s ever been, since you adopted him. 

Finally. Finally he felt safe and loved. Finally he had an actual family, people who cared about him...Why would he tell them that he hated them ? 

No. Never would it have come to Jason’s mind to use those words towards you. 

Oh, oh but after his death ? After his traumatic resurrection ? After he came back to Gotham City, only to find out you not only “replaced” him (his feelings towards Tim at first were...complicated), but you also never killed that hateful clown ?? 

Jason hated you. He hated you so much. 

But it was because he loved you. He always worshipped you and his dad, viewed you as those perfect beings who saved him from a life of misery. This was probably “his” first mistake...Nobody was perfect. 

But in Jason’s eyes, his mom and dad were. You and Bruce. 

And so when he came back, and neither of you avenged his death, he felt so hurt that- 

“I hate you.”

Those words, he said them a lot. In total contrast of him before the “incident”, before it all went to sh-. 

“I hope you know I hate you. So much. I wish I had never met you.” 

He wasn’t “half-assing” it, Dick would say. No. He definitely went “full ass” on you and Bruce, not hesitating for a second to express his high level of anger towards you two. 

And the worst ? Neither of you were mad at him for it, on the contrary. His words summed up years of your life. Years of you two hating yourselves for not being able to save your son, and not having the guts to go through with it concerning “The Joker”. 

You didn’t even think about defending yourselves. You understood how hurt he was. You-You deserved his anger. You deserved his hate. 

Ah, but Jason never really truly hated you. Deep down, his harsh words were born from feeling hurt and rejected. 

You two were the only persons who ever made Jason feel safe. When he came back, and saw you “moved on”, that you weren’t mourning him anymore (which wasn’t true, it might’ve appeared like that for the sake of Dick and Tim, but neither you nor Bruce could ever heal from one of your children’s death, the wound would always bleed), and that you didn’t take revenge-

He felt like it had all been fake. Like you never loved him. Like you lied to him, all those times you called him your son, or when you told him you loved him, and that he meant so much to you. 

Jason hated you, because he thought you never loved him. How ironic, right ? 

Thinking back to it, maybe you should’ve been more obvious with your feelings. Tell him since the first day you realized he came back, that you loved him, and that living without him was torture. 

That losing him was unbearable, and that you and Bruce almost broke for good (but had to be strong for the rest of the family). 

Maybe, you should’ve told him everything right away. And not let his anger fester. Not let him say more and more “I hate you”s. Maybe...

Ah, but it was easy, to look back at an event and think : “what if ?”. 

Unfortunately, it didn’t go that way. You were so shocked by Jason’s anger towards you, and thought so much you deserved it, that you didn’t immediately tell him how you truly felt. 

And it took all of you so much time, to finally talk. To finally understand each other. To finally forgive. Jason, to forgive you. You and Bruce, to forgive yourselves. 

So much wasted time...

Jason would always regret how he told you many times he hated you. Because it was never true. What he wanted to hear, in answer to those words, was : “I love you.”...He just didn’t know how to process all his emotions. 

And you would always regret that it took you so damn long to finally chase after your son, and make sure he knew you loved him. Make sure he knew he meant everything to you. 

It wasn’t a work you did alone. Thanks god for Alfred, Dick, and even Tim. 

And thanks god for Jason’s strength, for how he was able to forgive, even as he-

Yes. This would be a great source of regret for all of you. Maybe that was why, nowadays, Jason would NEVER shy away (once more) to say “I love you mom”, and why you made sure you told him, and showed him your love, every chance you got...

TIM

Even the most loving, sweetest kids, sometimes say hurtful things. 

Tim was one of those adorable children, who always wanted to help, whom you could always count on, but who would hide away his feelings too much for his own good, and would eventually break. 

“When coming from a child in whom there is generally a love-based relationship, ‘I hate you’ is a normal part of emotional and psychological development”, said a psychotherapist to you once (mental health issues were given a very important place, in the Wayne’s household...None of you ever felt ashamed of needing a little professional help at times). 

You experienced it with Dick and Jason. You knew it would eventually happen with Tim. Especially since he could be a little emotionally stunted at times. 

Tim wanted SO MUCH to help, and to save everyone, and to be there for the one he loved...he would often burry his own feelings, and pretend everything was ok. And sometimes, like a volcano, he would explose. 

Like today. But you were expecting it. 

It hadn’t been long since, unfortunately, Conner passed away. 

Conner Kent was an important person for your family. You always adored the kid (and he was the source of the very few fights you had with Clark, as you hated how he initially treated the boy). But he was probably the most important to your Tim. 

Although he never admitted it by then, you were pretty sure your son was in love with Superboy. That they weren’t only the best of friends. And you were pretty sure Conner shared his feelings...

But now, now they could never truly talk about it. 

Because Conner was gone. And he wasn’t coming back (A/N : yeah you know, comics, so we know he’ll eventually come back, but for the drama of it all, it seemed at the time that he wasn’t going to). 

It was hard for your son to process that. He became even more obsessed with his “work”, skipping school to spend all his time on his vigilante cases. 

And that day, he had skipped school once too many, and you and Bruce decided you would ground him. Forbid him, for a little while, to go out as Red Robin. And-

And that probably wasn’t your best idea. Probably wasn’t how you should’ve handled that at the time. Punishing him wasn’t the way to go, you knew that now. Oh, but it was easy, when you had the few steps back years later, to realize your mistake. On the moment though, it seemed like the only thing to do to save your son from dying out of exhaustion. 

His reaction was both expected, and unexpected. 

You knew he would snap at some point. You just didn’t expect him to snap because he was grounded...

“I HATE YOU !!” He screamed, truly angry, throwing a book across the room. 

But you knew. You knew he didn’t hate you. He was hurt, and sad, and he didn’t know how to handle all his emotions. 

He didn’t hate you, he hated himself. 

He hated himself for not being able to save his friend. To save the man he loved. To-

Tim always made it his mission, to save everyone. Especially those close to his heart. And so this, was a failure he had a hard time handling. 

It translated in that “I hate you” he threw your way. 

But you knew. You knew how he felt. 

“Well, it’s too bad, because I love you.” 

You answered, and you could see he was taken aback by this. You could see he was struggling with himself, and wasn’t sure what to say. 

“I love you, Tim. I love you so much.” 

Tears. Welling up on the corner of his eyes. And then it was another kind of volcano erupting...

All sign of anger disappeared, as he collapsed in your arms, and finally- 

Finally let himself mourn the death of his best friend, and first love. 

DAMIAN

It happened not long after your youngest boy came into your life. 

Damian had disappointed his dad. He knew it. He had killed a man, because he thought it was the only way to stop him from hurting his family. 

It came from a good intention. He wanted to stop someone from arming his loved ones. He wanted to permanently make sure that person wouldn’t come back one day, and kill his dad, his siblings, or you (he hadn’t yet came to call you “mom”, but it would come soon). 

It came from good intentions. 

He wanted to protect. And the only way he was taught how to do that, while in the League of Shadows, was to kill. Because, what was more permanent than death ? What would assure your safety, but to kill the danger ? 

But your son knew. He knew he wasn’t supposed to do that anymore. He knew his father expected him to do better. He knew...Yet he hadn’t been able to control himself. And he was feeling really bad about it. 

Of course, Bruce would forgive him. Would not give up on him. But still, Damian disappointed him. He disappointed you. Or so he thought, at least. 

He was feeling so bad about himself...And here it came.

Instead of expressing his feelings about all of that, instead of putting into words, or in drawing form for example (his go-to way to express himself), he lashed out. 

And unfortunately, you were in his way. He turned his negative feelings towards you, but you weren’t about to let him run with it. 

Damian wasn’t your first child. You had dealt with the “I hate you” phrase before, hell you even had to go through the very painful “You’re not my REAL mom” one (you can read this in that story : “You’re not my real mom”)...You more or less knew how to handle it now. 

An immediate emotional response would only make it worst. And so, as Damian yells : 

“I HATE YOU !!” at you, after you tried to talk to him about what he did (you wanted to comfort him, he took it the wrong way...which could happen with anyone), you took a deep breath. 

You stayed silent for a few seconds. And then you looked at him right in the eyes, and said : 

“No, I’m sorry. You may not speak this way to me. Let’s try to calm down first and then get to the bottom of what is going on. I can tell you are feeling very stressed, angry, overwhelmed. I can imagine a lot is going on and it’s making you feel such strong emotions inside, emotions of 'hate.' You probably feel you hate everything, all the things you need to do and all the stuff 'we' make you do. It’s hard. I know. Let’s talk about it.” 

Damian was stunned. He did not expect this response. He thought you would hate him in return, or be mad at him. 

“Hating me or using those words to express your anger is not going to help you fix how you’re feeling. It may make you feel 'good' in the moment of saying it, but not later. You will likely feel regret, feel sorry, feel bad. That doesn’t feel good. So, no saying that. But let’s talk about all the stress you feel. Let’s talk about your feelings, Damian. Please. Tell me what’s wrong, and how we can fix it."

Damian wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t. 

He had never been taught to accept failure. Nobody ever told him it was ok to not feel well. Nobody- Nobody ever expressed understanding towards him. 

He felt his throat choking up. He felt tears coming to his eyes. He felt-

He turned away from you, still use to hide those feelings. Still used to not show any sign of weakness. He turned away- But you delicately caught his chin in your hand, and turned his face back to you. 

And in your eyes...In your eyes, he could see that you wouldn’t give up on him. That you wouldn’t turn away, even as he made mistakes. That you were here for him. That you- 

That day, you received from him a hug. The very first hug he ever gave you. And of course, you answered it by wrapping him in your own arms. 

And Damian felt safe. Wanted. Loved. And he heard himself spill everything to you. He heard himself talk to you about his worries, about how he hated himself, about-

Everything. 

He told you everything. And most of all, he told you that of course, he didn’t hate you. He could never hate you.  

CASS

Cass wanted to hurt you. She was so angry, frustrated and upset, that her next few words were specifically aimed at hurting your feelings : 

“I hate you.” 

She says flatly, yet in a very definite tone. She knows what she’s doing, and she knows she’ll most likely regret it later. But right now, blinded by rage, she says those dreadful words anyway.

Unfortunately for Cass, by now, you knew that when one of your children lashed out at you in that way, they didn’t truly mean it. You and Alfred came to an analogy, for when your kids would suddenly want to hurt you with their words : 

They were like a tea kettle. 

In that way, that when the water's boiling, the kettle sings, and is too hot to handle. It takes time for the water to get back to room temperature. Right ? Well, when their water was too hot, they simply couldn’t think clearly anymore, as they entered fight or flight mode. Which is why they reflexively use the hate word, to "protect" themselves from their vulnerable feelings.

Right now, Cass’ water was way too hot, for reasons that honestly wouldn’t matter anymore in a few hours. And so she said : “I hate you.” 

Step by step. A deep breath. A small silence. And then you say : 

"No, you don’t hate me. But I know that at times we don’t see eye to eye or it feels I am in your way or that I don’t understand. You’re right, I don’t always understand, but I want to. Sometimes, I am in your way, simply because I am still raising you. It’s OK if you don’t always agree with me. My job is not for us to agree on everything but to hopefully provide you with what you need for a few more years until you’ll take care of yourself all on your own."

This seems to fuel her rage even more. How dare you be understanding, while she’s trying to hurt you ? How dare you answer her bile with kind words ? 

"I get that you’re angry but hate is not the way to label that or express that. I want us to be able to discuss our differences and even teach each other things. I also want to hear what you have to say. So, no more saying, 'I hate you’, regardless of how angry, frustrated, or stressed you feel. From now on, you will just tell me about your feelings and I will listen. Alright ?'

Not alright. At least for her, in that moment. Instead of talking, she glares at you, turn around, and leaves, slamming the door behind her, with all her might. Too angry to listen, or to talk. And you know what ? It was ok. 

It was ok, if things weren’t immediately resolved in the moment. You had learned that, over the years. It was ok, if right now, she was not willing to talk it out. To explain. To release her anger. She just needed time. And that was ok. 

And so you let her storm off, and waited. 

You didn’t have to wait for very long. A few hours later, she came back to you. Looking ashamed, and sad. 

Ah, but you made sure she had nothing to feel ashamed off. It was ok to be angry, it was ok to not know how to handle one’s own emotions. It was a good learning process, wasn’t it ? 

“Sorry.”

She told you, and what else was there to do, but to take her into your arms ? 

DUKE

“I hate you..”

Duke whispers, and although you know he doesn’t mean it, your heart still squeeze in that very uncomfortable way...

But you understood. You understood. 

You and Bruce just signed official papers to make him your son, as his parents weren’t getting any better, and it was clearer and clearer they would never heal from what the Joker did to them. 

But Duke still had hope. He still thought they could be saved. And he held onto that hope, even as he slowly settled in his life at Wayne Manor. Even as, despite himself, he slowly started to see you and Bruce as his second parents. 

And here you were, sighing adoption papers, making it official that his parents would never be the same ever again. 

To him, you were representing his shattered hopes. He had truly lost his parents...

Of course, he would “hate” you in that moment. Of course. But by then, you were used to your children not being well, and lashing out their negative feelings at you. So you start by saying : 

"There is a lot going in your life and I can understand how sometimes you just want nothing to do with any of it, and that-”

“DON’T ACT AS IF YOU UNDERSTAND !” 

He does not let you finish, and his whispers turn into screams. He feels so angry, so lost, so desperate. His last hope of having his parents again is gone, and you’re trying to comfort him ?? 

Proof that, even after decades of being a parent, you don’t always have the right words, or you don’t always do the right thing to soothe your child. 

You take a step back, a deep breath, and-

You don’t say anything. This wasn’t the “I hate you” screamed because you told him “no” about something. This was the “I hate you” born from utter desperation and sadness. He still didn’t mean it. But he needed to say it. 

So you let him. 

You feel Bruce’s hand on your back, as per usual, your husband is always near for you. You’re stronger, together. He’s your rock, you’re his pillar. 

Together, you can face this. You can go through it because you know you have support. You know he’s going to be there for you, and you for him. It makes things so much easier, to know there’s at least one constant in your life...

You don’t say anything, and you let Duke tell you a few more times that he hates you. You let him leave the court, and run off on his own. You’re worried, of course, but you know-

You know he needs the time alone. You know he needs to process things, alone. You know he’ll come back to you, once he’ll feel ready. 

And so for now, you and Bruce wait. His arms around you, yours holding him. Comforting each other with your mere presence. His fingers massaging your scalp, your hands running soothing circles on his back. 

You’re not alone for this. You’re parents, together. And you’ll figure that out, together. Worst things come to worst...There’s always Alfred, to run to for advices, right ? 

But you got this. You got it. 

And Duke does too. Right now, he needs to be angry. But he’ll come around. And he’ll realize that truly...He’s not actually alone in this. 

_________________________________________________

A short bonus story, as I only managed to write this today (feeling a bit under the weather). I hope you liked it nonetheless ! As per usual, comments/reblogs always greatly appreciated, motivating, and welcomed <3. Thank you in advance, and see you soon with a longer, more fleshed out story.  

[fever-project]

I’m not DEAD, Daniel (2904 words) by FeverProject Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, Danny Phantom Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Danny Fenton & Wild (Linked Universe) Characters: Danny Fenton, Wild (Linked Universe), the rest of the LU gang are also there but they aren’t important Additional Tags: This isn’t crack but it sure is silly, very much so for me, Ghost King Danny Fenton, Tired Danny Fenton, Wild (Linked Universe) is a Little Shit, might be ooc hopefully not, Misunderstandings, just a little bit Summary: DPxLU crossover because I couldn’t help myself. Surprised I didn’t do this earlier considering gestures at my everything Wild has an encounter with the Ghost King. It is definitely an experience.

Uhhh fanfic, yeah. I’m going to explode. Art

Enjoy 👍

▼

Wild was bored. Which wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, but it was one that he hated. It was night time now and he was supposed to be asleep, just like everybody else in the inn. But he wasn’t like everybody else, he already slept for 100 years straight, sleeping was only useful to him if and when he wanted to be more healthy. And sleeping every night was generally considered to be healthy, but Wild didn’t care, he needed to move.

Out the window he went, quiet as a mouse. Hopefully no one would notice he was gone, and that he would be back before morning came. But there was an entire forest nearby to explore, and he felt like he could-no, should explore to his heart’s content. The wilderness called to him, beckoned him in. That’s what he kept repeating to himself in his mind anyway, as a way to reassure himself, that as a hero who had saved Hyrule, sneaking out at night and potentially worrying the other heroes wouldn’t be a stupid thing to do. Zelda would’ve thought otherwise, and he knew that, but tried not to think about it too much.

The forest was mostly quiet, save for things like the chirping of birds and crickets. The faint rustling of trees was like music to his ears. There was a light breeze, which felt nice against his face as he ventured further into the forest. He tried his best to walk in as straight of a line as he could, to more easily find his way back. He really wished his Sheikah Slate worked properly in this time, maps made everything much easier. But then he would have to go searching for those towers, and while as fun as they were to activate, took up far too much time, much more than he and his group were currently willing to spare.

Wild was suddenly on edge. That odd shapeshifting, Lizalfos-looking, portal opening thing was still out there. Not to mention the black-blooded monsters that thing infected. Wild sighed as walked, now paranoid and frustrated. After a few moments of that, he finally gained enough brain cells to figure out that he should probably head back. With another sigh, which was more of a groan, he spun on his heel, turning around to make his way back to the inn.

Soon enough, something in the air…shifted, he couldn’t tell what. An oddly familiar yet unnatural feeling enveloped his senses as the sky started to turn into an odd shade of pinkish purple. The few clouds up in the sky, only a slightly lighter shade than the sky itself, swirled around above him, as the space in front of him split. Wild felt his heart drop and his breath leave his body as the rift continued to grow. Green glowing light bleed out from it, lighting up the trees and grass and him. Something was happening, something bad, and it was targeting him. He stumbled back, he had to, he had to get away and yet. And yet. It was calling to him. It was scaring him, the world behind the rift hated and loved him all the same.

Wild had to escape.

Wild tried to breathe, in and out, slowly, calmly, he looked for a way out. Trees, there were only trees and more trees and bushes and grass and even more trees-slowly, in and out, his breathing, his breath. He was alive, and he was going to make sure he would stay that way, bright green portal notwithstanding. The portal was growing bigger, quickly, but not as quick as Wild’s mind was when it was panicking. Maybe that meant that panicking was a good thing. Wild almost stopped panicking completely once he realized how stupid that thought sounded. His panic swiftly returned when a white boot stepped out of the portal. When matching white gloves also came out, Wild went to get out his sword and shield, fumbling with his slate as the person emerged from the rift, it closing behind them soon after.

“Excuse me?” The person asked, their words 

echoing, despite the conditions for that to logically happen simply not existing here. Wild stiffened, having only gotten his sword out. But he knew deep within his soul that it wouldn’t be very effective against the higher being standing before him. Yet his grip tightened despite that. He wouldn’t run away, not now, he would try his best to fight this being off if he had to. And if that failed, he would retreat, tactically.

The being was dressed in an odd black and white outfit, having tan skin and white hair. Their bright green eyes, glowing body, and their crown that was literally on fire were very clear signs that this person wasn’t anything he’s seen before. Not to mention the hovering. And the portal they just came out of. And the weird voice-and Wild needed to start focusing on the situation at hand.

The being raised their hands up defensively, “Hey, put down the sword, I’m not looking for a fight,” they said, “I’m just. Looking for someone, yeah.”

“Uh huh,” Wild dumbly nodded, keeping his eyes on them.

“Right, okay, let me just-“ they looked around, suspicious at their surroundings, “-okay, don’t tell anyone you saw me, or that you saw this. Actually, it doesn’t matter, forget what I just said.”

Wild nodded again, watching as a ring of light came out of their waist, enveloping them as they donned a more hylian appearance. They had even odder clothes on in this form, baggy and worn. Their skin was paler and their hair was pitch black. They looked like death in the form of a teenage boy.

“Are you Death?” Wild asked blatantly. Listen, he was curious, he need to know this. The being raised an eyebrow at him, confusion evident on his face. “Like,” Wild scrambled to rationalize his less than rational thought process, “I don’t know, you seem scary? And corpse-like? Are you dead? Am I dead-well, no, I can’t be dead, that would be silly, ha. But are you?”

“Well I am the Ghost King, king of ghosts,” they said plainly, with a shrug, “Name’s Danny, Danny Phantom, and that’s really all you know about that. Listen-“

“Aren’t you like, twelve?” Wild knew they probably weren’t twelve, but this ‘Ghost King’ guy looked pretty young.

“What? No! I’m not twelve, I’m like-“ they pouted, like a twelve year old, snapping their fingers in thought, “older than you!”

“Oh yeah, I’m-“ Wild stopped, wondering if it would be smart to tell the Ghost King that he’s technically one hundred and seventeen years old. “I am at least seventeen! And I look like it as well.”

“You’re the same height as me.”

Wild looked at the ghost, glared at them, walking a bit closer to them. He placed his hand on top of his head and moved it forward, towards the Ghost King’s head. His hand brushed against their hair, but it clearly didn’t reach the top of their head. Wild grinned, well, wildly at the sight of being taller than them. They looked unimpressed.

“You’re the one acting like a twelve year old you know,” Danny scoffed, pouting.

“Says the pouter.”

“Look, can you just help me find this guy, since you’ve clearly calmed down now.”

“And why should I?”

“I’ll make your afterlife terrible otherwise.”

“Fine, I’ll help, gosh,” Wild was probably going to help anyways, he liked helping people. He just wanted to be annoying. “So, who and why?”

“Great! So, I’m looking for this guy named Link,” oh no, “Clockwork-he’s a time ghost, don’t worry about him-told me that he was hoping around other times with other guys also named Link.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well-okay, you’re annoying so I’m just going to ignore that-“

“Time isn’t real.”

The two stared at each other, and Wild both wanted to punch himself in the face, and thought he was the funniest man alive. Danny seemed to think the same way too, with their bewildered expression suddenly turned into one holding back a lot of laughter.

“Al-alright, that was good I’ll give you that,” they chuckled, “Anyways, I’m looking for this specific Link because they’re supposed to dead, and I’m supposed to like-do something about that. I think I have a picture of this guy that Clockwork gave me, hold on.” They stuffed their hand through their goddess forsaken chest, and rummaged around like their own body was a mere storage container. Wild was instantly jealous of them. Sure he had his Sheikah Slate, but it wasn’t a part of his body.

Wait, Danny had a picture of him. Oh no, they were going to kill him. He didn’t need them to say word for word that they were going to kill him, but Wild didn’t know what else they could do to him. He needed to be on his toes and hone his quick reflexes in order to survive this ordeal.

“Annnd-nope, that’s my thermos-here it is!” They pulled out a piece of folded paper, and just as they started to unfold it, Wild snatched it from their hand and shoved it into his mouth.

“Wha-WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!” Danny shrieked, hands on the side of his head, horrified.

“‘Cause,” Wild responded in a muffled voice, chewing the paper. Tasted inky.

“Okay, you are definitely the weirdest person I’ve ever met, an I know a ghost who whole personality is boxes, just boxes. Actually, I don’t think he’s that weird compared to some other fruitloops I know of-but that doesn’t matter, spit that out!”

“No.”

“You are acting like a twelve year old-no, even twelve year olds wouldn’t do this, you’re five.”

Wild gasped, photo smushed to the side of his mouth, in between his cheek and teeth so it wouldn’t fall out.

“You’re just mad I’m right.”

“Nah uh!”

“Then how about you spit that out, like a normal, seventeen-you’re seventeen right?” Wild nodded, “Right, like a normal seventeen year old would, or I’ll phase it out of your mouth by force.” Wild did not like sound of that. So he spit out the photo, the slobbery mess falling onto the grass. Even Wild was grossed out by what he had done. Danny clearly was.

“You’re going to have to unfold that yourself, I’m not touching that,” Danny looked sick.

“Yeah, that’s fair, I’ll do that,” why wasn’t the paper metal, then he could use his Sheikah Slate to pick it up. Good thing he had some spare gloves stored in it, so it was fine, it’s fine. He started to unfold the paper, Danny peering over his shoulder, both with matching disgusted expressions. Wild was right about the contents of the drawing. His face, blast scars and all, was right there. Wild looked at Danny. Danny looked at him. Wild wanted to punch them in face and run off, but they are a ghost. But Wild still slowly raised his free hand into a fist, retaining eye contact.

Danny began to speak, “So-“ Wild swiftly punched them in their face, and skittered backwards, trying to look for a way back to the inn safely. The ghost had stumbled back, clutching their face in pain.

“Huh, so you can punch ghosts,” Wild noted.

“You can definitely punch this ghost,” Danny rubbed their hurt nose, “Didn’t even get me a chance to speak.”

“Please don’t kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you, that’s not what I’m here for.”

“Oh.”

“Bet you feel stupid now, don’t ya?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

Danny sighs, pinching their nose, not in pain this time, but annoyance. “So,” they started again, “what I’m trying to do is get you on the ‘Supposed to be Dead but Came Back Anyways’ census. Basically, the name’s a work in progress.”

“And…I’m supposed to do something about it?”

“Kinda? Look, just sign here, and I’ll get out of your hair.” They pulled out another piece of paper out of their chest, with already had a few other names on it in neat little boxes. Wild couldn’t read any of those names, but Danny probably could.

Wild’s face scrunched up, trying to think about what he should do next. They hadn’t really explained their reasoning for any of this, so he still didn’t trust them too much. Maybe this was some elaborate ruse to kill him.

“Will me signing this ‘census’ give me any benefits-will it give you any benefits?” Wild pointed accusingly at Danny.

“Well, are you dead?”

Wild groaned, “I’m not DEAD Daniel,” Wild threw his hands into the air in frustration, “Just use your stupid ghost words to explain to me what I need to do and why.”

“Okay,” Danny squeaked out, “But first off, name’s just Danny.”

“Uh huh.”

“And secondly, I’m doing this because there’s a bunch of ghost legal jargon where your name was already listed on both the ‘dead,’ and then also the ‘not dead’ list after you came back to life. You signing this will help fix that.”

“…Aren’t I time traveling right now?”

“Yes, but it’s still good to note down who had came back to life. Please just make my life easier, this is themost stress inducing part of my job I’ve ever done.”

Wild was starting to feel a bit bad now. So now, with a better understanding of the situation, he took the paper from Danny’s hands.

“Here’s a pen to write with,” Danny gave him a pen from their chest.

“Can all ghosts store stuff in their bodies?” Wild asked as he wrote down his name in the next free box, adding on his title of ‘Hero of the Wild’ in the same box, just to specify things.

“No, but I sure can,” they said with a big smile.

“That’s so cool.”

“I know.”

The two laughed a bit as Wild returned the paper and pen to Danny.

“Well, sorry for not explaining my motivations fully, I’m a bit…tired, ha ha,” Danny rubbed the back of their neck, clearly embarrassed.

“Yeah. Sorry for punching you.”

“Now I’m going to go take a nap. Or sleep for once.” A ring of light enveloped Danny yet again, returning him to his more ghostly form. Then he turned around and held out his hand, before cutting the space there, opening the bright green portal.

“See you in the Ghost Zone, Link! Eventually!” They waved as they stepped into the rift.

Wild waved back, “That sounds pretty ominous, but okay!” Danny laughed at that as he went all the way through, the portal closing soon after. Now Wild was left all alone in the woods.

He needed to get back to the inn.

It took him some time, but he eventually found his way back to the inn. In through the window, as quiet as a ghost, he was back in his room. He flopped down onto his bed, mentally exhausted. He would’ve rather been bored than have had dealt with…whatever that was. Not really, but Wild was certainly ready to go to sleep now, and pray that he wouldn’t have to meet that Ghost King ever again. Not because he was scared, but because he was a bit embarrassed about what happened. He acted a bit stupid there. But none of that mattered now. All that Wild had to do now, was to sleep.

ー

“Has anyone seen the champion yet?” Time asked, looking over the group that were all hanging around the inn’s dining room.

“Nope,” Warriors said with a pop, “He’s likely still asleep.”

“But I’m hungry,” Wind whined, “Captain, do you know how to cook?”

“I know how to make things edible and nutritious,” Wars plainly answered, receiving a few groans from various Links.

“We could just have the food they serve here,” Twilight suggested.

“Champ’s better,” Four retorted.

“How about we all wait a bit longer,” Time said, “It hasn’t even been half an hour since we woke up after all.”

They all muttered their agreements, and choose to occupy themselves with taking count of their resources for the time being. A few more minutes passed before Legend noticed something.

“Hey guys, I think I see the champ coming down right now,” Legend pointed at the staircase, and the other heroes scrambled to see their resident chef stumbling down the stairs.

“Are you doing alright?” Hyrule asked.

“You seem exhausted,” Sky added.

“Ye-yeah,” Wild yawned, stretching his arms, “Ghost problems and all that stuff.” He set out to make some food for his companions, who were looking at him with confusion and concern.

“Ghost problems?” A few of them asked at once.

“Is this place haunted?” Wind looked around with an excited grin on his face.

“Nope, but I sure got haunted in the woods out there,” Wild waved in the vague direction of where the forest was, “Now I’m going to make something to eat, want some?”

Of course they wanted some, food was important. They continued to ask questions about the ghost, but Wild didn’t answer, he didn’t feel like it. Maybe in like, two days he would. But for now, he just wanted to eat some Vegetable Risotto, maybe with a few Endura Carrots thrown in as well. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to deal with that Ghost King again anytime soon. At least, hopefully not before this time traveling adventure ends.

[lewkwoodnco]

You look like shit - Lockwood x Reader

One time you told lockwood he looked like shit and four times he told you you looked like shit

“You look like shit.”

“Oh, I see how it is. You’re in a hospital bed but I’m the one who looks like shit.”

“Exactly, you look spectacularly terrible. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I tried, but my sorry excuse of a boss got his ass kicked by some Type Two, so here I am.”

“Doesn’t your sorry excuse of a boss write your cheques?”

“Have I mentioned how fond I am of my sorry excuse of a boss?”

a/n: just a little drabble i typed up having been inspired by this post :)

tropes/warnings: mostly fluffy, some mentions of grief, slight description of injury, smidge of flirty-ish banter 🙈🙈

wc: 1.5k!

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

“You look like shit.”

Lockwood froze with his mug halfway to his mouth. He gaped at her briefly before setting the mug down once the shock passed. She was Lockwood & Co.'s newest employee and it was only recently that the ice had been sufficiently broken for their interactions to evolve into something more than a passing smile or greeting. This, however, was more than he had expected. He was possessed by a sudden overwhelming urge to laugh.

"It's like, 10 in the morning, and you already look exhausted. Do you ever sleep?"

He struggled with his words for a moment. "...yes. Sometimes."

"Not enough, clearly."

He did look especially worse for wear that morning. Only just recovering from a mild flu, his insomnia was at an all-time high and the lack of sun over the past week had his skin looking nearly transparent. He was a frail, washed-out thing flitting restlessly between rooms, bemoaning all the cases he was missing out on while cooped up here.

He smiled for what felt like the first time in days. She coughed, embarrassed, feeling like she had grossly overstepped.

"I mean...you don't look that horrible."

Fortunately, Lucy chose that exact moment to walk in and sufficiently distract Lockwood with the details of their newest case and she took the opportunity to duck out of the room. What the hell had she been thinking?

"H- oh, you look like shit."

She emerged from behind the counter through a cloud of steam, her hair resting on her shoulders like a large, frizzy, brittle rat. While he and George had spent the morning at the Archives, she had spent it at Portland Row preparing Fesenjān for their lunch as part of some stupid bet she had made with George.

"Oh, good, you're back. You took your time."

"George is still there so Lucy's going in to hel-"

She cut him off by shoving a spoon of hot stew into his mouth.

"Taste."

Lockwood spluttered around the spoon, mouth working furiously to cool the scalding food while she watched him intently.

"Well?"

"It's...it's good."

"As good as George's?"

He grimaced. "I don't think I should be taking sides in this." He didn't even want to think about George finding out.

"This isn't taking sides. But also, if anyone asks, you weren't here. So...?" She fixed a desperate look on him. Lockwood sighed.

"It could use a little more salt."

"Angel." She turned around, pulling out the salt while he watched her with a flicker of amusement in his eyes. The crazy hair suited her in some odd way.

“You look like shit.”

He had meant for it to come out as teasing but at the sight of her tearstained face, it sounded terribly mean. He had found her sitting on the front steps late one evening when he was about to turn in, only a thin hoodie insulating her from the harsh cold. Her head whipped around at the sound of his voice, a hand carelessly dragged across her face. He took a seat next to her, dropping his voice.

"Everything alright?"

She swallowed, eyes trained on their shoes. Her voice was hoarse with disuse.

"One of my friends moved away a couple of years back. She's been in an accident."

"How bad of an accident?"

There was a tightness in her chest that made it difficult to go on. "The worst."

In a rare moment of weakness, she crumbled, sagging against Lockwood like she had no spine left to hold herself upright. He wrapped a warm, comforting arm around her, and the simple gesture was enough to break her down. She cried into his shirt, cried for the friend she would never see again, cried for the part of her childhood that had chipped off and floated away into some abyss. Cried while he held her.

"I can't -" she hiccuped, unable to hold back a poorly concealed sob. "I can't even remember the last thing I said to her." It felt like an awful thing to admit, something sinful and evil, something that made it impossible for her to shake the tremble from her hands. His hold on her tightened a fraction, like he was holding her shattered pieces together, and she clung to his shirt with all the despair of a shipwrecked passenger.

Maybe it was selfish, but she didn't want him to leave. And so he stayed.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

They had just returned from a job at some old, abandoned building set to be torn down in a few months. George and Lucy were handling some other case at the other end of the city, so the sounds of them shucking off their coats and gear echoed through the empty house. Between the two of them, she was always more prone to going ham on their cases. Today, it was in the form of her barrelling full tilt through a series of cobwebs to serve as a distraction. The case had ended with Lockwood hurriedly bagging the Source and her pink-faced and speckled with the grey strings.

Back at Portland Row's kitchen, there was still a lingering tinge of warmth to her cheeks. Lockwood paused by the cupboard where she was pulling out some mugs and plates, idly picking off the remaining strands still loosely clinging to her hair and shoulders. As his movements slowed, fading into something more gentle and meticulous, she glanced at him. He looked back. The cobwebs now littered the little space between them, but still he did not move away. The back of her neck prickled under his wretchedly attentive gaze. She did not know how to look away.

"Tea?" she croaked out, throat embarrassingly taut with choked-back emotion.

Whatever spell that had settled over them broke. Lockwood reeled back, almost noisily busying himself with fishing out the biscuit tin, forcing something nonchalant into his voice.

"Sure."

They spent the rest of their night operating with an invisible bubble between them, neither of them daring to get too close to the other lest a brush of the hand shattered the pallid illusion they were play-acting in. The house was far too quiet that night, filled with the unbearably soothing sounds of their cutlery, the rain and their breathing. Lockwood fiddled with his mug. She scratched at a particularly obscene message etched into the thinking cloth. He dragged a shoe along the scuffed kitchen floors. She drummed her fingers restlessly, watching the seconds tick by excruciatingly slow on the clock.

Where the hell were George and Lucy?

“You look like shit.”

“Oh, I see how it is. You’re in a hospital bed but I’m the one who looks like shit.”

She was in a gleaming, sterile hospital room, painfully twisted into some uncomfortable plastic chair after a night of fitful sleep and checking to make sure Lockwood was still alive. Lockwood had gone out for a solo case and she had been waiting up, expecting him to return any minute when the hospital called. Luckily, it was nothing fatal, but enough to keep him out of commission for a while. Enough to make her worry.

“Exactly, you look spectacularly terrible. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I tried, but my sorry excuse of a boss got his ass kicked by some Type Two, so here I am.”

“Doesn’t your sorry excuse of a boss write your cheques?”

“Have I mentioned how fond I am of my sorry excuse of a boss?”

He quirked a smile at that, then immediately winced. She lightly tilted his bruised face just as he raised a tentative hand to the stitches on his lip, their fingers brushing against each other for a fraction of a second. He looked at her questioningly, unable to see how it was healing himself, and she thought it was extremely unfair to have eyes as disarming as his. She shoved down the stab of sympathy at the unexpectedly vulnerable sight. Hospital gowns really did a number on how strong, or lack thereof, a patient seemed.

“Poor baby. Do you need someone to kiss it better?”

“You could kiss me better.”

“You…are clearly still concussed. Where on earth is your nurse?”

She stood and busied herself by sticking her head out the door and looking for his nurse, which was most definitely not an attempt to hide the flush creeping up her neck. After a few minutes of futile searching, she returned, alarmed at how wan Lockwood was starting to seem.

“I don’t remember getting a concussion,” he murmured, closing his aching eyes.

“Of course you wouldn’t. That’s how concussions work. Idiot.” She tried to keep her tone light, but he cracked an eye open as if he had heard something in her voice. He slipped her fingers through hers casually and she felt the tension in his stiff shoulders ease.

"You should sleep," she tried gently. His thumb slowly traced hers drowsily. Still, he forced his eyes open with considerable effort. Looked at her like she was all he wanted to see for the rest of his life.

"In a minute."

It was the first of the lifetime of minutes ahead of them.

TAGLIST: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @cielooci @midnight--raine @mohinithoughts @neewtmas @snoopyluver20 @ahead-fullofdreams @elenianag080 @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits @avdiobliss @dangelnleif @mitskiswift99

[emotionalmotionsicknessxx]

So you want to see the 1988 Phantom of the Opera proshot at the New York Public Library...

If you know one thing about me on this internet it's that I love when things are spelled out and easy. This weekend my friends and I went to the New York Public Library (NYPL) Theatre on Film and Tape Archive (TOFT) located at Lincoln Center to watch the Phantom of the Opera proshot. I saw some how-tos and asked friends who have already seen it, but it was still a little confusing and I wanted to clarify how my experience went:

Bottom line: if you can make your way to NYC, you too can see the Phantom proshot from 1988 starring Michael Crawford, Sarah Brightman, and Steve Barton and lose your mind :)

Here's how I did it:

I showed up to the New York Public Library Library of the Performing Arts located at Lincoln Center with my two (2) also phanatical friends. We were vibrating. We went when the archive opened at noon. Hours can be found here.

We were directed to the third floor where the archive is. We had to check our bags (but were able to bring whatever in - I brought my phone, a pen, and a notebook for notes)

We met the sweetest librarian who was so helpful - he got us on computers to apply for NYPL library cards AND special collections cards. If you live in NY, you can get a regular NYPL card. If you are from out of town, they will give you a NYPL visitor card (good for 3 months!) We filled out applications you can find here and here if you are curious about the questions asked. Many questions are optional! Note: there was some scuttlebutt about needing to be a student or researcher or even an expert in the field - you don't need to say why you're there unless you want to! I kept it brief: said I was an independent researcher and there for personal interest. They are just happy people are using our libraries! Sign the letter here to stop the mayor from closing our libraries

Once we had our cards (NYPL Card AND a special collections card/number) we were told to head to the archive, where we met a second, lovely librarian who was excited we were there. You can ask for any show that isn't currently running (sorry Hadestown nation). You can find a list of what they have here. All titles available at TOFT begin with the call number NCOV, NCOX, or NCOW. Note: we did not make an appt ahead of time, and luckily no one was watching Phantom but our friend wanted to watch Great Comet and someone already had it. To avoid this, make an appt. To make an appointment, call (212) 870-1642 or email toft@nypl.org.

We signed off to use the archive and were off to the races! That's it! We were put on three monitors and I controlled the pausing and replaying of the tapes. You can replay as much as you want, and can even ask for other plays/musicals that you want to watch during your session there. I took notes in a notebook, I saw other people taking notes on their phone. There are cameras to make sure you aren't doing any recording or photo taking. Note that you can only see this proshot once without special permission, so if you want to come back you'll need to look into what that permission is.

If you're interested in what was actually IN the beautiful, spectacular, amazing, never before been done proshot (it's from May 25, 1988 by the way) listen to my/our podcast, Leroux Less Travelled!

My inbox is open if you have more questions! I hope this clarifies how easy it is if you're ever in NYC!! We will get through phantom-drought together :)

[apple-salad]

Rose Ribbon Embroidery "Mini" Projects (for BABY NYFW) Part 2: Embroidered Bonnet

I decided semi-last minute to attend BABY's fashion show at NYFW!

BABY had mentioned in their NYFW brand description that their newest collection would be a return to their origins, as well as presenting archival items.

You have to dress to impress for NYFW, right? So of course, I had to pull out all the stops and wear my Rose Ribbon Embroidery.

Also at the last minute, I decided to make a few extra complementing items...

A matching RRE kumya JSK, and a bonnet.

What follows is more of a sew-along/journal rather than a tutorial or guide, mainly for my own memory's sake. But if you enjoy looking at my process (sometimes sloppy), I'm happy!

Also feel free to take a look at the more romantic process video I edited.

Part 1: Kumya JSK

Part 2: Bonnet (you are here)

This post will be my process pictures and notes for the bonnet, as well as a matching mask as a bonus.

I don't believe BABY released matching headwear for Rose Ribbon Embroidery, although I've seen an unknown velveteen headbow with rose lace sold with RRE before.

BABY usually coords RRE with the bunny ear bonnet since Ichigo wears it this way in Kamikaze Girls.

I do own this because I wanted to wear an Ichigo-like outfit at some point, but for this occasion I decided to do something different and make a "matching" embroidered bonnet.

I originally wanted to make a hard bonnet with a very defined brim that could show off the embroidery clearly as I don't really like soft bonnets, but when looking at existing BABY bonnets as a reference, it doesn't look like hard bonnets were a thing back in 2004 (and as it is, BABY rarely releases hard bonnets). So to keep with the oldschool theme, the bonnet is a soft one, although I later make some decisions to make it slightly more structured.

The next decision to make was full bonnet vs half bonnet. The bunny ear bonnet is a full bonnet and I think this is technically more "period accurate", but I am not a fan of how they look like a weird hood from the back so I opted for half (plus, that makes construction and patterning easier for me).

I still used my own bunny ear bonnet as a reference for approximate brim dimensions!

The kumya JSK was a little easier to carelessly sketch out and embroider since I was copying 1:1 from an existing design, but I felt I needed to do at least a bit more careful planning for the embroidery on this. I'm quite bad at creating embroidery designs from scratch, but with the mental image of the rose clusters and swags of vine, as well as referencing the embroidery from the film, I came up with this:

I wanted to emulate the embroidery style of the Momoko's (well, in reality likely the embroidery designer Onoe Megumi--unclear if she did the actual embroidery, but it's likely) embroidery, which I figured wouldn't be too difficult if I was also embroidering by hand.

For material, I am using the same velveteen I used for kumya's JSK. Not my first choice and I actually purchased some thicker looking 100% cotton velvet that I thought would be more similar to the original JSK material, but was worried it wouldn't arrive in time and wanted this project out of the way in case things went wrong/took longer than I expected (it did arrive about a week before the event, but it was totally wrong IRL so I'm glad I just went with this acceptable option). I also bought some more torchon lace, so I used that and another lace from my stash.

The colours of the embroidery in the film also seem to be quite different than BABY's dress. I'm not sure if the pink of the roses has faded over the years, but it has a slight salmon tone whereas the film's roses seem to be more of a pale cool/neutral pink (hard to tell with the yellow tint of the entire film) with some variegation. I love the colour scheme of the film's embroidery, but to keep things coordinated I try to opt for the same colours as the actual dress I have.

I only have white silk ribbon in the width I wanted, so I opted to attempt to dye it to match. Previously I have used alcohol markers to colour the embroidery afterwards, but I find the colour hard to control and it tends to bleed into the fabric. I've also tried colouring the ribbon with the marker before embroidering, but without heat setting the colour transfers onto the fabric as well (and it seems like trying to do so with the amount of ribbon I need would be a waste of ink).

I don't have a lot of experience with it, but since the ribbon is silk, acid dyeing seemed like the way to go.

Very interesting photo of ribbon in pot (the pink ribbon gets eaten up by pinwheel roses much faster than I expected so this is the second batch I had to dye--not ideal as they are definitely slightly different in colour but it's not too noticeable). In total, I think I had to dye 3 batches of ribbon and 4 for the pink ribbon as I just barely ran out near the end, and they are all slightly different colours. Thankfully the undertone is the same so it's difficult to tell unless you are really comparing up close.

I thought I would take this opportunity to use the "peach" acid dye that I bought years ago for another project, but this ended up being a mistake as the colour was totally off (maybe the red dye was too expired). I ended up using my regular fiber reactive procion dyes (with heat/acid), because I have many more colours I could mix together, and that was much better. I really should have done this from the start as I wasted perfectly good silk ribbon by making it too dark/off for my purposes (I ended up overdyeing it in pink so it's a usable colour now, but not for this project).

The silk seems to take on dye extremely fast--even just heating up the dyebath will colour it. In some cases I removed the ribbon before adding any acid at all because I felt the ribbon was already getting too dark.

I managed to get a fairly usable mossy green colour for the leaves and vines, however the pink still ended up being a little off/dark compared to whatever BABY used. It's not too bad here as one strand of ribbon, but when many layers are on top of each other in a rose it seems pretty dark. While not ideal, I think it's still okay, especially considering the embroidery colours used in kumya's JSK match nothing else (many pinks will be going on in this coord).

After dyeing and drying, the ribbon is super wrinkled so I ironed it and wound it on some spare card so it's ready to use.

And now I can start the arduous process of embroidery.

Like before, I mainly use a combination of ordinary ribbon stitches, pinwheel roses, and french knot roses. However, this time I try harder to duplicate, or at least evoke the appearance of the embroidery of the film.

It's interesting how plain and somewhat boring the roses look on their own, especially with this monotone colouring. The varied colours of the film's embroidered roses are lovely, but I decided against it here because the BABY dress has monotone ribbon roses.

The roses definitely seem to just be pinwheel style which is very easy and doable, however I am a bit more confused about the leaves. They look like a number of straight stitches in various lengths and directions that fill in a leaf-like shape. I have no idea if this technique has a name and if there is a proper method for it, because I am a silly beginner who is very uneducated in embroidery.

Anyway I do my best and hopefully I got close enough. Ribbon embroidery is really all about the texture, which is really lovely to look at. Except I have trouble looking at my own work for too long because I start nitpicking all the mistakes I made...

Adding the green and leaves really helps the embroidery come to life.

I took even fewer pictures of the embroidery process than kumya's JSK this time because it's not that interesting. I was definitely getting sick of doing the same pinwheel over and over...

I stupidly decided that aside from embroidering the front of the brim, I also wanted a little bit of embroidery on the back of the brim for interest, as well as on the side.

The designs I drafted out for these two pieces is much simpler, but still, more work....

Almost ready for construction! Hopefully a lot faster with the handwork out of the way.

I iron on some interfacing onto the back brim panel and the bonnet band for slight extra stiffness.

The bottom part of the brim is plain cotton sateen because I was worried that the part that touches the head would get dirtier more quickly it if was velveteen.

I wanted some lace gathered around the brim and an extra velveteen ruffle on the back of the band, so I prepare that now. The lace is gathered with a single gathering thread and sewn down before sandwiching between the two brim panels.

Brim sewn and topstitched (and band is ready for attachment).

The upper flowers ended up a little closer to the top of the band then I intended, but I think it's okay.

Gathering brim and attaching it to band. Because the velvet fabric is so thick, the usual "sew one line of stitching with a wide stitch length" not only made the fabric incredibly difficult to gather, but the thin polyester thread also continually broke when trying to do so. Therefore, I opted for an alternative method I think I'd remember seeing in my sewing machine manual of all things--a zigzag carefully stitched over a central gathering thread. This worked much better, although I probably should have used a thicker/extra strong thread as the central gathering thread because it did break the second time I had to gather the brim due to a mistake.

I also add a bit of lace to the inside of the brim. I think this adds some luxury and frilliness between the head and the bonnet's brim, so I wanted to add a small width. I probably could have used even more of the lace's width since it turned out very subtle when worn. But I still think it adds a small amount of interest to the innermost part of the brim and was worth adding.

Unfortunately here after sewing on both brim parts I realize that I gathered both using an incorrectly marked centre line, so I had to rip it out and do it again ;_;

Next, I can carefully align and pin the bottom of the brim to the bonnet and sew it down. I tack this down by hand because I'm not skilled/accurate enough with a sewing machine to topstitch both sides nicely at once (look closely, and my messy stitching is quite visible...)

I also fold in the raw edges and finish the sides of the brim by hand, leaving some openings for ribbon ties.

At this point I spray almost the whole bonnet with water to disperse and fade my markings. Unfortunately, some of the earlier batches of ribbon that I dyed (Can you tell the variance in the 3 dye batches I needed to do?) were probably not washed well after dying and seem to have bled into the fabric from the water...but hopefully it's not too noticeable.

Next I topstitched all around the brim and attached the ribbon ties.

I bought some double sided velvet ribbon in my last minute supplies shipment and made some bows from it. I think the material is a little thick and petersham would have worked alright as well, but the consistent velvet material feels more luxurious, doesn't it? I also think as an added benefit (?) the ribbon being plush and double sided made the bows more puffy looking.

I add some clips to the sides and a toupee clip to the top for security. I opted for a toupee clips because I think it's really the way to go if you don't want the head item to move at all, no matter how thin or slippery your hair.

Finished.

Bonus 1: rose accent pin

I was in a bit of a rush at this point as it was near the end of the week coming up to the show, so I didn't take any photos of the process here but the technique and templates I used were identical to my handmade faux rose rosettes I made for UM (and the bonus corsages). I have a post with all the details of this sitting in my drafts that I will post eventually, and I will update this post when that happens.

The brooch was just meant to add a bit of 3D faux flower accent to the bonnet, bringing in the rose motif even more. Partially inspired by the faux flowers BABY adds to their bonnets sometimes, like on Milk Tea Doll.

The fabric was "custom dyed" with the same fiber reactive dye I used for the silk. The fabric was further starched, cut out by hand, and shaped with flower iron tools before gluing together.

Bonus 2: matching embroidered mask

I wasn't sure about whether or not I wanted to wear a matching mask, but decided to do so for situations when I would want my face at least half-covered in public. I didn't really expect to be visible in fashion show pictures as someone in the back, but just in case. (I think this decision was worth it, although my makeup transferred all over the thing and in most pictures my face was even more unflattering. eh well)

I forgot to take a lot of pictures of my process for this, but it's very uninteresting and not dissimilar from every other mask sewalong from 2020. I draft out a design similar to the bonnet motifs on both of my mask panels (cotton sateen), and embroider.

I should have embroidered closer to the centre of the mask because when worn the embroidery is not very visible/covered by my hair at the sides. What can I do since the panels were already cut though...oh well!

The lining material is some Japanese CLEANSE Ex fabric I had bought previously to make masks during the pandemic. It's supposed to be antibacterial and antiviral, as well as washable, but I have no idea how well supported those claims are.

Sew together normally on both upper and lower sides, turn inside out, add a channel for nose wire and side channels for elastic.

I also have some mask elastic on hand so I use that.

And the finished outfit again with all my items~

Thank you for reading! If you ever feel inspired to take up a similar project, such as the kumya JSK, I'd love to see it!