#rose-human-hair-wig

[christinamark]

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[clovenhoofedjester]

jellicle lineups; part 4/4

I FINALLY FINISHED THESE

grizabella | 🌃 🥀 🍂

i really wanted to mix revival and older replica for this one. the thigh-high boots, sparkly, tasseled dress, and generally the wig are all revival inspired, but the curly fur stays and the makeup is old because i really do like the very dramatic, gothic grizabella looks. her coat is also heavily 2019 inspired with the length and stripey purple fabric

i also was not sure how i wanted to do her hair other than it covering one eye (SHOUTOUT TO THE FANART I SAW WHICH HAD THAT. I CANNOT REMEMBER THE URL) esp the color so i did a gradient of light grey to dark brown, which i REALLY liked ! it also helped me decide that shed be chocolate smoke instead of a tabby

idk. ijust like her

i very much want to emphasize the "proud" and "indomitable" of her character in my portrayal of her; think betty buckley. i think shed be 61 in human years.

jennyanydots | ⏰ 🧶 👠

HER DESIGN... is very similar to her replica one because.... i really like it. very heavy emphasis in how her makeup is sometimes done with the HUGE lower lashes and squiggles. she also gets a cute little pink nose and blue eyeshadow

very 2019 inspired also. the hat, tasseled jumpsuit and bejeweled tap shoes stay ...... but i did want to give her the vest and collar from 2019. i just like that. shes also fat because yes

she remains sweet and nice yes. but i think warsaw was onto something when they made her Like That. shed be 56 in human years

jellylorum | 🎨 💐 👒

i ORIGINALLY drew her design a month and a half ago with the headcanon that shes gus' caretaker but bro. that jellylorum & asparagus jr. & gus family angst potential was too great. so i redid her as looking closer to gus. :3

idk why but i decided to go with a 1940s inspired formal look for her.... i quite like the hat and think it helps her to stand out, so i'm comfortable in that decision. her fur design is also mostly replica inspired. enjoy her neapolitan ice cream makeup too

she also gets a pink nose and her collar from the 2019 version. idk why the collars went so hard in that movie

i LOVE one of her 3 words being practical... yes, she is THE practical cat. i think shed be 59 in human years

bustopher jones | 🌹 🤍 🍛

VERY replica inspired.... with notes of other productions. opera populaire had full glasses bustopher which i liked. an older makeup look also had stripes which i also thought looked nice (and makes him look more related to mistoffelees) ! there are also multiple bustopher designs that have the moustache and beard 2 for 1 dealio..... and decided to incorporate that as well

he also gets the fishbone hanky crevat thing and a fishbone brooch. i almost made his rose white but i liked the contrast of the red. enough that i decided to give him lipstick too . and youd best believe that he has a giant fucking pipe that he smokes out of

i love the idea of him being the older generations' tugger in his time. i believe it. i think hed be like 55 in human years

skimbleshanks | 🚂 🎆 ⏳

I COULDNT RESIST BASING HIM OF THE MOVVIEEEEEE im not sorry that was peak skimble. the whistle and chains, the MATCHING conductor hat and pants, the moustache, the tap shoes..... truly, it was too good. my only regret was that i couldnt show the suspenders in this design because i wanted to keep the vest

i did keep the makeup/fur pattern very similar to his replica design though. idk. its just good. emphasis on the brown in his tail, the brown of his clothes, and the bell

anyone else get handsome gay silver fox vibes from him? anyway [being rushed out the door] i think hed be 56 in human years

asparagus jr. | 🧷 🎲 ⛲

lets go babey asparagus jr. inclusion ! i Really struggled with the clothes because i wanted to include the weird yarn poncho but didnt want to make him look hippyish (hippies are cool it just wasnt the vibe i was going for).... so it is reincarnated as this strange tassel-y scarf shawl thing. idk

he also gets a collar similar to jellylorum's because i like the idea of them living in the same house :^3. his makeup is also pretty different from how it appeared in the 98 version because i wasnt really feeling it. i like stripes. so stripes he shall get

hes also wearing a corset thing. idk what my propensity for designing men with a slightly feminine touch says about me (IM A FEMININE QUEER MAN)

not much notes on his personality other than i think he really looks up to his father (enough that he took on his more dignified name). hed be 57 in human years

gus | 📖 🌌 🔭

MUH OLD MAN... i love him. very much based on a bunch of different replica designs for him. he gets a beard and sideburns because i think i really do love the costumes w facial hair, and i think it just fits. he also gets glasses

he gets the coat and handkerchief (now a scarf) that typically hides the growltiger costume... which has a crisp formal outfit underneath. maybe he takes the coat off during his number to signify having moments of clarity and humor during his song

i do think in my interpretation hes well enough to joke around during his number and play the rumpus cat but like. damn you can tell this cat is old. hed be like 93 in human years

old deuteronomy | 🌕 🍮 ⭐

i have fully abandoned replica deut. say hello to haute couture resplendent transgender old deuteronomy. fit with a gigantic white coat, velvet dress, and gigantic fluffy hat. and yes, she did have 99 wives

she also gets the pendant that she was drawn with in the concept art for the 2d animated movie.... what was up w/ that....

ANYWAY YEAH UH. shes very different from the replica deut and other nonrep deuts mostly thanks to judi dench, with her saying that her version of deut was a transgender woman, and her complaining about not looking regal enough in the movie. here you go girly. the nose freckles/dots from some replica makeup get to stay though

she gets a lot of design notes from her children. the grey from munkustrap, macavitys white eyelashes, eye and mouth makeup, and tuggers cheek heart. shes also a light grey to kind of reflect her appearance in 2019

not much to add here other than i love her. i think she would be 88 in human years

AND THERE YOU GO. AHHHHHHH ITS DONE

[twstowo]

Chapter 1-2 [Sorceress!Yuu x OB!Characters]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗SYNOPSIS: Wanting to help the collared people you follow Che'nya's plan and infiltrate the castle to befriend Riddle.

♡︎ Warning: None just Riddle being cute

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The plan was simple: get inside the castle, befriend Riddle, and try to change his mind about the collared people. But nothing really seemed simple to you, especially when you were expected to befriend a tyrant.

So, there you sat, perched on a chair, patiently waiting as the trio rummaged through outfits to find the perfect disguise for your role as the new palace architect. Che’nya, with a mischievous grin, mentioned the disappearance of the actual architect, leaving you with a nagging feeling that the details were best left unexplored. You couldn’t help but wonder how Riddle wouldn’t immediately recognize someone he had recently collared. Ace, unperturbed, dropped a blond wig onto your head, bearing an uncanny resemblance to your own hair, just a different hue—an inquiry you dared not voice. Deuce, on the other hand, overwhelmed you with volumes of the Queendom’s architectural styles. Days stretched into a week, your nose buried in dusty tomes, absorbing everything to brace yourself for whatever Riddle might demand. Amidst your studious immersion, you longed for the day this charade would come to an end.

Grim slept next to your books, he looked so peacefull as you reached for his head giving him some pats, brushing his fur with your fingers. At least someone was having a good time.

"What do you mean I, the great Grim, can't go with my Human?" Grim's voice reverberated in protest as he pointed an accusatory finger at Che’nya. The four of you sat sipping tea before the planned departure, and Che’nya had insisted that Grim couldn't accompany you. The rationale given was that Grim might cause disruptions that would compromise the entire plan. Initially, you had reservations about separating from your feline companion, having never ventured anywhere without him. However, Che’nya’s reasoning began to resonate.

"I also believe it’s for the best, Grim," you said, trying to pacify your betrayed friend. "Your help is crucial here." But Grim's disappointment was evident as he refused to meet your eyes.

"Fine. Go without me. But if you need help, don’t even think about calling for me!" With that proclamation, Grim stormed off, leaving you alone with Che’nya.

"How are you feeling? Tomorrow is the big day," he said, flashing a broad smile that did little to ease your nerves. You'd spent a lot of time contemplating what could go wrong—whether Riddle might recognize you, discover that he had collared you, or find your true intentions.

"Nervous, but I think I can handle it," you replied, attempting to project confidence.

"That's what I want to hear, nya!" He rose from his seat, offering a gentle smile that seemed to reassure you that everything would turn out okay. And you trusted him.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

In front of you loomed the gates of the castle, towering above you like monumental giants. As nervous thoughts raced through your mind, you couldn't help but chuckle, recalling these particular gate styles from one of the books you had studied. Oddly, this recollection gave you a surge of confidence. When the guards ushered you inside, you encountered Riddle once more, this time greeted with a warmer reception. Surprisingly, he seemed pleased to see you. Perhaps your initial encounter had simply been an anomaly, or perhaps he saw you in a new light now.

Riddle took your hand and bestowed a quick kiss upon it/gave you a quick handshake in welcome. "I've heard quite a bit about you, an architect of considerable renown," he praised, elevating your spirits even though these praises weren't intended for you. "But, pardon my frankness, I had envisioned you differently." His comment made you widen your eyes, and you felt a sudden shiver run down your body.

"I hear that often," you replied smoothly, trying to maintain composure. "Before we discuss the building plans, I'd love a tour of the palace, just to gather some initial inspiration. If that's possible." You glanced around the entrance, taking in the surrounding rose-filled bushes.

"Please allow me to escort you around." Riddle's company led you through various rooms and halls within the castle, each adorned in shades of reds and whites. The floors boasted a chessboard pattern in black and white, a pristine and luxurious atmosphere entirely distinct from the dusty tower you once called home. After an extensive tour, Riddle guided you outside, revealing the verdant gardens and a sprawling rose labyrinth, meticulously tended by the royal gardeners. Finally, your journey concluded at a collapsed building.

"Several months ago, the collared peasants rebelled against my mother's regime and destroyed this beautifully crafted building," Riddle spoke, a hint of disdain evident in his voice as he referred to the collared people.

"Rest assured, there's nothing beyond my ability to build. I'll create something that will please the Queen's desires and more," you assured him with a smile, earning visible satisfaction from Riddle.

"Very well." Some guards approached, and Riddle turned to leave. "I entrust the rest to your capable hands," he stated before departing.

With a sigh of relief, you released the breath you'd been holding. Everything was proceeding perfectly, just as you'd hoped. Gazing at the ruined building, you found the guards and workers awaiting your instructions. "I need some paper and a pencil."

Swiftly, you sketched structures inspired by the palace's designs, blending in elements from other styles that harmonized well. After several hours immersed in the drawings, you raised your head to find all eyes on your sketches. A twinge of embarrassment hit knowing they'd witnessed the entire process. However, the awe and admiration in their expressions reassured you that your work was appreciated. Rising from your seat, you began directing everyone around, bracing yourself for the tasks ahead. This month would be demanding, but you were prepared.

Lying on the bed, you relished the comfort of the room Riddle had assigned you. It was quite spacious, and it struck you that Riddle seemed particularly fond of this architect. It dawned on you that you knew so little about this person—if Riddle asked you something, you’d be completely at a loss. Determined to remedy this, you resolved to locate the palace library the next day and educate yourself about the architect.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

You wandered through the palace walls, groggy from the night before, in search of the library. After a long walk, you finally found it and stepped inside. The sheer size of the place left you in awe. The bookshelves stretched like the halls themselves, laden with books of various sizes and hues. Everything was meticulously organized and devoid of any dust. There was so much to read, and yet so little time. For now, your focus was on learning about the architect. You hurriedly looked through the books about this strange figure. Fortunately, their face was never shown, signifying their desire for privacy. Most of the works were stunning, intricate creations, teeming with details you'd never encountered in the books Deuce had provided. You made mental notes about these, realizing that diverging too much from what Riddle envisioned could raise suspicions.

As you returned the books to their places, one peculiar volume caught your eye. It bore your last name, prompting a moment of confusion until you plucked it from the shelf. Inside, you discovered a book chronicling your parents' journey. It vividly portrayed snowy landscapes and recounted how they had earned their place as landowners, working their way into prosperity to establish something in their name. Memories from your childhood flooded back—moments with your mother, interactions with villagers, and the constant presence of a childhood friend who was always by your side. Everything seemed blissful, which made you wonder why they had locked you away in the tower. Questions swirled in your mind, but a strange, unsettling feeling urged you to cease your inquiry, casting a shadow over your thoughts.

Reluctantly, you returned the book to its spot, unwilling to dwell further. With a heavy heart, you moved toward the exit, your head bowed in contemplation. However, just before leaving, you noticed someone else in the library—a surprise visitor. To your astonishment, it was none other than Riddle.

You pondered whether engaging in conversation with Riddle was a wise choice. He appeared consumed by work and potentially quick to collar anyone deviating from his desires. However, before you could depart, your eyes met, and you found yourself captivated by his stunning blue gaze.

“Y/N,” he greeted you warmly, rising to meet you, and you were jolted out of your daydreaming.

“Forgive me, I just—”

“No need for apologies. In fact, I would love your company if you permit,” his tone unexpectedly tender. Was this the same person who had erupted when Grim landed on his head?

“Of course. How may I assist?”

“I’d like to hear your thoughts on my designs.” He gestured toward his table, displaying the most intricately detailed building plans you’d ever seen on paper. Your reaction was instinctual, you had to stifle your amazement. If he saw the design you'd given to the construction team, he might have certainly collared you.

“This looks—” You paused, realizing you were playing the role of a distinguished architect whom Riddle admired. You couldn’t merely fawn over his work. “Pleasant.” Despite the underwhelming choice of words, Riddle’s eyes widened with pride.

“I’ve been studying your designs extensively, attempting to draft the building myself. But my efforts could never compare to the real artist.” He regarded you as if you were his shining star, leaving you to wonder if he realized you weren’t the actual architect.

“I’m glad you appreciate my designs. It’s always nice to find a fan.” You offered a smile, and he reciprocated, clearly pleased with your words. Yet, even as he smiled, you noticed the dark circles under his eyes, indicative of fatigue. “Have you been overworking yourself?” You posed the question, realizing afterward that it might not have been the most appropriate thing to ask.

“Well, I have my duties as the future king of the Queendom of Roses. I can’t simply set them aside,” he responded, a glimmer of happiness shining through as he realized your concern for him. On your end, you grappled with the situation. Your intention was to grow closer to Riddle to facilitate removing the collars from everyone, so you needed a way to break down his barriers.

“How about baking some strawberry tarts?” you suggested, sporting a cheerful smile. He looked at you with a quizzical expression, seemingly ready to dismiss your idea. “If you need to leave midway, I can finish what we started and bring you the tarts when you’re free. So, no need to worry about a thing.” You offered solutions, trying to convince him, though he seemed puzzled by your eagerness to spend time with him.

“If you insist, I could permit it,” he agreed, adjusting his tie in a nervous gesture. “But everything must be done precisely! And the kitchen must be perfectly cleaned afterward,” he stated, almost as an order. You nodded in agreement.

“Follow me, Riddle!” you exclaimed, taking his arm and guiding him to the kitchen, causing him to widen his eyes at your bold actions.

In the midst of baking the tarts, Riddle meticulously followed the culinary book's instructions, determined to use precise measurements. Any deviation seemed to stress him, and he'd restart if things didn't align perfectly. As he focused intently on each step, you couldn't help but feel frustrated by his strict approach.

“Riddle!” you called out, finally voicing your exhaustion with his rigidity. Startled, he dropped the spoon he was holding, his face flushing with a mix of emotions, perhaps anger or embarrassment, you couldn't discern. But you persisted, “This is why your designs aren’t perfect! Things like this aren’t meant to be perfect, they’re meant for the fun of it!” He seemed to freeze, absorbing your words. “When I come up with new designs, I don’t aim for perfection, I draw what I find fun at the moment,” you elaborated. His mouth opened and closed, as if struggling with your point. He rubbed his chin, lost in thought.

“So… I need to have fun? Stop trying to make my designs perfect?” he murmured, almost to himself, but you caught every word. You nodded, handing him the dropped spoon. He hesitated but then swiftly scooped flour, bypassing the measurements this time. You saw him gulp, battling his instinctual need for precision, yet he bravely added the flour to the batter.

“See? You’re getting the hang of it!” You clapped your hands, prompting a deeper blush from Riddle, who let out a sigh but continued to bake. You sensed that he had relaxed, gradually enjoying the process of making tarts with you. Despite his attempts to maintain a pristine kitchen and occasionally strive for perfect measurements, you noticed a significant change in his behavior, and that was what mattered most.

As you grabbed a large bag of flour, you lost your balance and tripped over your own feet, sending the flour cascading onto the floor and covering you both in its powdery embrace. Panic surged through you, as you slowly glanced at Riddle who also had been covered in flour from head to toe, you anticipated Riddle's reaction to the mess, believing that now even Che’nya could not save you from this one, but unexpectedly, he burst into a hearty laughter. You froze, stunned by his unanticipated response. Instead of anger, his laughter filled the room, and he even walked over, extending his hand to help you up from the flour-covered floor.

“I haven’t laughed like this in such a long time,” he chuckled, his cheeks tinted pink from the flour. His laughter was contagious, and you couldn't help but smile back. However, amidst the chaos and his laughter, you noticed something about him that felt strangely captivating, even covered in flour he seemed to have this angelic look to him, wait, what did you mean with angelic? Did he always look this nice? You shook off the thought, dismissing it as a trick of the moment.

“Sorry, I will clean all of this!” You hurriedly searched for a broom, but Riddle placed a hand on your shoulder, a warm and friendly gesture.

“I used to visit a friend of mine when I was young,” he reminisced, an unfamiliar softness in his tone. “One day, he tried to teach me how to bake. That day, I dropped a full bag of flour. I never heard the end of it from my mom, but it was such a nice moment…” His words trailed off, and both of you stood there, flour-covered but sharing a moment of connection. His hand lingered on your shoulder for a moment before he withdrew it, seemingly realizing the gesture's duration. “Sorry…” His demeanor shifted slightly as he began to look for a broom. “We should clean all of this,” he suggested, and you nodded in agreement, grateful for the lighter atmosphere between you both.

The rest of your free time was spent enjoying the tarts and tea, chatting about various topics. It became evident that Riddle was gradually opening up to you. Even if it was initially part of the plan, you couldn't deny that you enjoyed his company.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

After a long day, you finally returned to your room, feeling exhausted. The building constructions were progressing smoothly, even better than expected. As you made your way towards the closet to change into your pajamas, a strange knock caught your attention. It seemed odd for someone to visit at such a late hour, but you decided to investigate. Upon opening the door, no one was in sight. You shrugged it off, thinking it might have been your imagination until the same knock echoed again. This time, you scanned the room, even checking the windows, but found no one, until your gaze shifted to the mirror in your room.

“This is the first time we get to talk properly,” the strange woman in the mirror addressed you, her lips moving in sync with her words, yet she remained motionless, fixated on you. You felt frozen, a chill creeping over you—did ghosts exist? Were you so fatigued and sleep-deprived that you began to see apparitions? “I was expecting this reaction, but relax, I am not here to harm you. Quite the contrary, I want to help you.” Her voice, despite standing next to the mirror, sounded distant and echoed faintly.

“Who are you?” You approached the enigmatic figure cautiously.

“I am you from another universe. I believe your friend Che’nya has already explained most of it.” The revelation stunned you. She had been the one to free you from the collar. Hearing Che’nya's tale of being cursed to live inside a mirror, unable to experience the outside world, evoked a pang of empathy. Having been locked in a tower yourself for so long, devoid of interaction and exposure to the outside world, you could empathize with her isolation.

“How do I set you free?” Your directness caught her off guard, her head bowed to conceal her sorrow. It felt surreal—her facial features mirrored yours, almost like watching your reflection cry.

“Only someone with an immense amount of magical power can release me,” she replied, raising her head to fix her gaze on you.

“But is there anyone out there with that kind of power?” You questioned the possibility. While many powerful wizards existed, like Riddle, you doubted they could intervene in such a situation.

“You,” she responded, and your eyes widened in surprise before adopting a more skeptical expression. “I can grant any wish, but with each wish comes a curse that consumes the wisher, slowly eroding their sanity and driving them mad. Strangely, it also bestows a certain strength upon them.”

Your astonishment grew; the thought of losing your mind over a wish you were still uncertain about was daunting. Sensing your concern, she offered crucial reassurance. “Given that we are the same person, this curse will affect you differently. Your sanity will deplete at a slower rate.”

“Why does it affect me differently, and what happens if I completely lose my mind? What then?” You felt the weight of the seriousness setting in, wondering if helping her was worth such a dire situation.

“This is our curse. It works like poison—the more exposure you have, the less impact it will have over time.” She paused, extending her hand toward the mirror’s surface. “If you do succumb, I’ve discovered a way to undo the curse during my confinement here.”

“And what’s that?” You inquired, intrigued.

“A true love’s kiss.” The two of you stood facing each other in an awkward silence. What did she mean by a true love's kiss? You hadn't found someone who made your heart skip a beat, and as you began to voice these thoughts, the image of Riddle laughing, covered in flour, flashed into your mind, reddening your face.

“W-what? S-so, that means you’d just kiss all those guys you cursed?” You blurted out, still rattled by thoughts of Riddle. As soon as the words left your mouth, both of you seemed to stutter, embarrassed like two high school girls gossiping about their crushes.

It took a while for both of you to calm down and realize the gravity of the situation. Sighing, you took a few steps back and settled onto the bed, facing the sorceress. Emerging from a tower, only to be thrust into this chaos, you wondered if things were spiraling further out of control with each passing moment.

"Can't I just wish for you to be free?" you asked her, as this seemed to make the most sense.

"The power of the wish is connected with the magical power of the wisher." She looked at you with a sad expression. "And for now, you don't possess enough magical power. The only way for you to get stronger is to wish for smaller things for now." You nodded, annoyed with the revelation. Of course, things couldn't be as easy as you wanted them to be. How foolish of you. As you thought about any wish, with nothing coming to mind, you watched as she slowly started vanishing from the mirror. Some sort of magical dust slowly made your reflection show in the mirror as it used to. As you heard a strange voice in the back of your mind, "If you ever feel like asking for a wish, repeat these words.”

“Wish and want in sacred verse, Grant my heart's desire, universe.”

That was an incantation. You rushed to grab some paper before forgetting it, but as you started jotting it down, you realized it had ingrained itself in your mind. It seemed intentional, as if you couldn’t erase it even if you wanted to. You relaxed, lying back on the bed, letting your tired eyes close. Tomorrow promised to be a long day.

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[yukidragon]

SDJ - New Clues, Theories, and Headcanons

So many new pieces of art and lore teasers have been dropped on the Sunny Day Jack twitter, that I simply must make a post to gush about them, as well as the new thoughts and headcanons they’ve sparked for me.

Strap in, folks, this is going to be a very, very long one. I’ll be throwing in a lot of pictures for evidence, including pieces that were on Jambeebot/Sauce’s public twitter before it went down. On that note, please remember to support them and their game by following their twitter or contributing to their patreon or kickstarter. This beautiful game, art, and ideas wouldn’t be possible without all their hard work.

Also, I know I said it in the headcanon post I made earlier today, but it bears repeating - please don’t repost private images from the patreon. Reposting the images elsewhere, even cropped, is harmful to SnaccPop Studios and everyone working there. It’s fine to gush over what was posted there and direct others to join as well, but the money pledged to the patreon is going to a good cause to make this engaging game.

With that said, let’s start with the picture that is just oozing with lore.

There’s so much here, so let’s break it down piece by piece.

Jack is obviously a ghost(?) in his reflection. The blood, glowing eyes, and unhealthy shade of his skin makes that pretty clear that he’s no longer human.

His colors are faded and more in shadow than the rest of the lighting of the room.

He’s midway between being Jack and Joseph, as evidenced by his visible mole, the cigarette, the smudged makeup, his earring, and the tank top he’s wearing.

This contrasts strongly with the autographed photo of himself done up in costume and makeup properly, smiling and happy.

LambsWork Productions appears to be the studio responsible for the SunnyTime Crew Show. It was theorized that might be the case in the mock 80′s horror movie poster that was posted on the official twitter, but this card seems to confirm the theory.

Jack’s eyes, when not glowing, are definitely brown, as suggested by his official merch plushie.

Everything in this room is dingy and dirty. The wallpaper appears dirty, there are spots on the doll, the eye paint is chipped, the flowers are dark as though withering, and there’s a nasty stain on the lunchbox.

The fact that the flowers are blue is interesting. They appear to be roses, and are a shade of blue that is decidedly unnatural (kind of like Jack’s blue wig), which would make a bouquet of them more expensive than regular flowers. Usually white flowers are used for funerals and memorials to represent honor, peace, and innocence.

The symbolism of blue flowers is, as stated by wikipedia, “desire, love, and the metaphysical striving for the infinite and unreachable. It symbolizes hope and the beauty of things.” That first part definitely gives Jack vibes to me.

Symbolism aside, the reason blue flowers were chosen might simply be because of the blue of Jack’s hair. This is a memorial directed more at Jack the character, rather than Joseph the actor. Intentional or not, the memory of Jack is on full display, while there’s nothing of Joseph except what bleeds through in the mirror.

Most likely this is Jack’s dressing room at the studio, as that would be an appropriate place to put a memorial like this for a fallen co-worker.

Since the flowers are still holding their shape despite withering some, it means this takes place not too long after his death... or those flowers are plastic and just got especially dirty.

If this does take place a short while after Jack’s death, this suggests he might have wandered around as a ghost(?) before being trapped in the tape.

Or this could be a dream of Jack’s in the present about the truth of his situation that he’s trying so desperately to bury...

I find the name of the studio that worked Jack to death and buried his memory to be quite ironic. LambsWork Studio. One could say that a lamb’s “work” is to be sheered... or slaughtered.

Jack certainly seems to have suffered both fates, hasn’t he? He was “sheered” by being overworked to play the part, then “slaughtered” when he was murdered while on set.

Then there’s the fact that Hollywood has been rumored to have cults and rituals taking place. What if Jack being trapped in the VHS wasn’t actually an accident? What if his murder was for the sake of a ritual that required a lamb beloved by many to be slaughtered?

The question would be then what the ritual would be for, and why they would need someone so popular and so loved by children? Would their love for the character be part of the ritual? Is the reason why Joseph, a drifter, was chosen for the role was because it would be the easiest way to cover their tracks when there would be no family to look for him?

This picture also gives me an idea for a new scene in Sunshine in Hell, but I won’t spoil it here. Suffice to say, Jack is not going to like what he sees in the mirror...

Interestingly enough, this version of Jack appears again elsewhere.

His hair is brown fading into blue, his eyes are the same distorted sizes while glowing, he’s bloody with smudged makeup, wearing a tank top, and has his tattoos visible. We can also see he’s wearing one of Jack’s gloves and Jack’s pants. It’s very much a transitional state between Jack and Joseph. It’s very telling and so unsettling, especially since his body is decaying.

All four of the male leads have their own animated pictures. They appear in bouncy animation in front of a fun “party” type background, then for a split second we see them in a more horrifying light.

In Jack’s case, there are two horrifying versions of him. Here’s the other one:

Jack is in full costume this time, not only bleeding but also splattered in blood to imply he committed violence of some sort, and his skin is clearly rotting like his other scary image. However, what I find most interesting is the blank white eyes of his that are overflowing with tears. We haven’t seen Jack’s eyes look like that yet.

The fact that there are two versions of Jack feels telling to me. It might represent Jack’s persona as the character he’s trying to be, as well as the actor he was when playing the role, affected by Jack’s presence even in his real life. The empty eyes do hint at this version of Jack being empty. In a way, he has been divided into two, and one half of him is buried underneath his trauma and desperation.

Also, I’d like to talk about the text that goes along with these gifs.

Everybody likes Jack!

The question is, what happens when he doesn't necessarily like everybody back?

This quote is pretty straightforward in what it’s insinuating - Jack is a yandere. He doesn’t like anyone who might keep him from his sunshine. The game is literally called Something is Wrong with Sunny Day Jack. We’ve seen plenty of teasers of Jack being scary and covered in blood, implying that he caused violence to happen.

Jack doesn’t directly cause violence in the teasers. He has issues with breaking character in any sense, that’s why he doesn’t swear and why he panics when he’s reminded of his personal past as Joseph. Instead, he convinces others to hurt themselves, as we’ve seen with Nick regardless of our choices at the end of the demo.

You know, that always confused me. Nick, apparently, is a random customer who asked Sunshine if they had a boyfriend. No matter what option you choose, he gets rejected and goes away without any attempts to push it further. Furthermore, Sunshine doesn’t react positively to Nick asking that question, so there was no hint that they would want to date him.

On that topic, can I just say how uncomfortable what Nick did was? People in the food service industry have a hard time when customers flirt with them while they’re working. The servers literally are being paid to act friendly and smile at the customers, and if they displease the customer, they could lose their jobs. There are plenty of customers who take that to mean that the server is flirting with them or otherwise interested and ask them out or leave their phone number. No matter how uncomfortable or even scared for their safety the server is, they have to keep being pleasant, even if the customer feels entitled to more than just friendly service from their server.

While there are plenty of people who take one look at Nick and are immediately interested in him, Sunshine rejects him in every route, and has this reaction:

Hm. I don’t know whether to be flattered this is happening. Or terrified this is happening.

I’m going to go with terrified for now.

“Well. I mean. I uh…”

Shit. Shit. What do I say?

What am I supposed to DO?

Sunshine is not comfortable with being hit on at their job where they can’t escape the situation. It’s not a fair situation to put anyone in, and a lot of servers lie that they’re in a relationship just to escape a potentially dangerous situation. Fortunately Nick seemed to take the rejection well and went away, right?

While in the “no” route, I can see why Jack would feel bitter towards Nick, as Nick was the catalyst that set off a very traumatic moment. It’s clear revenge and a defensive measure to prevent Nick from being a threat in the future.

The results are vastly different in the “yes” route though. Nick is practically a wingman, allowing Jack to nudge Sunshine into finally making the choice to deepen their relationship. If anything, Jack kind of owes Nick in this route.

And yet Jack still drives Nick to madness anyway.

What further confused me was the timing of it. In both routes, Jack and Sunshine have sex. The next morning, Jack is clingy and doesn’t want to let go of Sunshine. Being so intimate together for as long as possible would be very reassuring to him, especially after such a traumatic incident as the brief rejection in the “No” route and how reluctant Sunshine was to accept him.

So, why then did Jack (presumably) leave after Sunshine fell asleep to drive Nick insane?

Admittedly, the news report about Nick doesn’t exactly state when the incident happens. Maybe this is jumping ahead several weeks or a month ahead of time after the demo ends with Jack asking who Shaun is. However, its presence in the epilogue makes it seem like the news report was broadcast on the day Shaun visited, which would imply that Nick was driven to madness the night before. This implication is strengthened by the earlier incident where Sunshine passed out and woke up Jack’s jacket, and how that suggested to many players (including myself) that Jack did something suspicious that night while Sunshine was unconscious.

I think most of us just assumed Jack’s choice to go after Nick was just yanderes being yanderes - pre-emptive violence and rash decisions in order to keep the one they love. However, Jack is anything but rash. He’s very methodical and clever. Having an impulse to go after a random guy who asked out his sunshine but got rejected and slunk away without a fight seems out of character for him, especially since in the teaser art, Jack would resort to violence when a threat “just won’t go away.”

Granted, these images are not strictly canon, just some great teasers for SDJ in general, but they both have the same sentiment - when someone keeps getting in Jack’s way and is a burden on his sunshine, he’s pushed to drastic measures.

But Nick didn’t do that, right? Sure, he walked into the shop for yogurt the day before he asked if Sunshine had a boyfriend, but he accepted rejection easily and left. How is that a burden or a threat that keeps getting in Jack’s way and just won’t go away?

Unless there was more to it than what we saw.

Our perspective is limited by what Sunshine perceives. We’re inside their head, privy to their thoughts and feelings. When they go unconscious, the story cuts short, as was shown when Sunshine “dozed off” on the couch with Jack. We don’t see anything they don’t witness, and they didn’t witness what Jack did to Nick.

So what if there were things Nick did that Sunshine didn’t see either?

Allow me to turn our attention to a few interesting details that can be gleaned from Nick’s profile and his Spotify playlist.

Nick may keep a cool head, but he's got a lot more going on beneath the surface than most people realize.

A social media influencer by day, and a professional male dom by night,  Nick's seen his fair share of unsavory things, but at the end of it  all, he has his close family bonds and twin Pomeranians (Pico and  Cheese) to keep him sane.

Will that always be enough, though?

I was pretty shocked that Nick, the guy who was shy and took two days to gather up the nerve to ask if the cute person serving yogurt had a boyfriend, was a social media influencer, and a professional male dom. Both those things demand a strong amount of presence and confidence to handle, as the former requires being at the center of attention for many and handling a lot of social media, while the latter is taking charge of other people sexually for money. Kind of strange that someone who can pull off both these things would be so shy, right?

Although, social media influencers and professional male doms can be said to be playing a role, putting on an act for their paycheck. This begs the question then - was the shy customer we saw in the demo Nick’s real face?

Some of the song choices on his playlist further raised my eyebrows. I won’t go too deep into depth here since this post is getting long enough, but more than one song is about obsessive love, drugs, being the bad guy, and loss of sanity.

Sure, Jack drove Nick crazy, and maybe that’s where the drugs come in. After all, Nick’s scary glitch image showed him in clothes one might expect to see a patient wear at a mental hospital...

There’s also the quote given along with the gif.

So close, yet so far away~

What if this quote isn’t referring to Nick’s kickstarter goal being so close to offer a route to save him, or how “close” Nick came to becoming Sunshine’s boyfriend?

What if Nick has been close to Sunshine for a while, and they never even noticed? What if they’ve been coming to the store a long time, but Sunshine never paid attention - after all, he was just another customer. It was Nick’s strange behaviors like asking if the obvious employee worked there that made him stand out.

What if Nick didn’t simply go away when rejected? What if he’s been stalking Sunshine without being noticed? What if on the day he was rejected... he secretly followed Sunshine home to their apartment while they were too exhausted to notice?

What if someone, say, was so obsessed with their crush on Sunshine it bordered on criminal? So many yandere characters break into the homes of those they are obsessed with. What if Nick didn’t actually take his rejection well, and he decided to pay Sunshine a little unexpected late night visit?

What if Nick is a yandere targeting Sunshine?

Well, an immediate threat is certainly a good reason for Jack to leave the reassuring warmth of his sunshine’s embrace, wouldn’t it? He can’t exactly savor the afterglow and how their relationship finally evolved into something deeper when a threat is breaking in to take his sunshine away...

This would make Jack’s actions make perfect sense to me. It also adds a new unsettling context to what Jack said to sunshine after Ian’s phone call.

Remember what I told you…

About…Other people?

Jack was worried about “other people” even before Ian’s phone call and warned Sunshine as such. What if that was his discreet way of warning them to be cautious because Sunshine had a stalker, and he didn’t want to scare them? Jack wants to take care of Sunshine, so he’s going to hide scary and ugly things from them so that their light will always shine... so he has reason not to tell them something that could trouble them. He’ll take care of them. He can provide them safety.

These ideas, as well as the other glitch cut-ins from the other guys, led me to a new theory/headcanon - all of the male leads are yandere for MC.

I mean, let’s just take a look at Ian here.

It isn’t easy to tell due to the animation and distortion, but I can confirm that there is a heart in his pupil. On patreon, there’s a picture of him with this exact same love-struck expression, including with a heart in his eye.

A star is born!

With a face like that, Ian could do a lot of damage in the acting scene!

Naturally, this remark seems to be pointedly referring to his glitched image where he’s covered in blood.

Ian is dressed up as Sunny Day Jack, not just any Jack, but a redesigned Sunny Day Jack... like in a reboot perhaps? His outfit is different in so many ways, including the belt, elbow pads, sun logo, fingerless gloves, general jacket, and even the shape of the makeup on his cheeks.

Is Ian possessed by Jack, who then committed acts of violence in his body? It’s possible. It certainly was a theory in the fandom for a while.

It was also a theory that Ian is a yandere, and as such he might be the one actually responsible for all the bloodshed here.

After all, Jack and Ian do share a common dislike in their profiles - they both dislike being left alone. I find that a pretty interesting coincidence. Not to mention all the other parallels they share, such as taking the starring role of Sunny Day Jack.

Let’s also look at the phone calls from Ian. He constantly calls Sunshine to apologize for cheating on them. His profile confirms that his cheating is why they broke up.

He had you, until he lost you. Formerly your childhood friend, high school sweetheart, and your boyfriend, Ian has fallen from your good graces after admitting to cheating on you while attending performing arts school.

Nothing will stop him from proving his undying love for you, though. And this new job of his as the main character of an upcoming big budget TV show should do nicely as a fresh start for both your lives.

Ian said in the demo that he had something that would “fix” everything. He thinks this new job, presumably starring as a rebooted version of Sunny Day Jack, will somehow undo the damage he did when cheating on his partner. That is a very strange assumption. Why would a new job, even one that offers fame, undo the fact that he cheated while he was away?

Does Ian believe that game and money can soothe away the pain he caused and prove he is worthy of forgiveness? Does he believe that’s enough to make them happy?

Sunshine has been shown to be very poor. It’s one of the big plot points in the story that they’re struggling for money. They work long, grueling hours in a job that mortifies them, their co-worker Carol shoves work onto them to take care of, their boss calls them in on their day off... They can’t even afford to replace their wardrobe.

I’d been looking for clothes at the local thrift shop. 

You know…As one does when their wardrobe consists of 75% stolen and borrowed shirts from their ex.

…And they’re too much of a tightwad to shop for new clothes in an actual new-clothes store.

Not only does Sunshine rely on Ian’s wardrobe to be clothed, they also rely on the apartment they got together. I find it interesting that Sunshine is still living there. Normally, after a break up, wouldn’t you want to move out from a place that causes you so much pain? Sunshine doesn’t seem to like thinking about Ian’s bedroom at all, so that’s even more reason to move. The breakup with Ian is why they’re “recklessly” rejecting all things nostalgic. Plus, if they’re struggling for money so much, why are they still paying for a two bedroom apartment? Can they really afford to pay for it all on their own?

That got me wondering... what if they’re not? What if, like the borrowed shirts, Sunshine is still relying on Ian financially despite being broken up? He could still be paying half or more of the rent. Ian could frame it as an apology for how much he hurt Sunshine. After all, Ian would do anything to make up for what he did, right? Begging, bringing up old memories, constantly calling them, claiming he has a right to know if they’re dating anyone... emotional manipulation...

Ian sounded so shocked when Sunshine said they were trying to move on, even though they were broken up. And why wouldn’t he? They’re still living in their shared apartment, still relying on his money. It’s only natural to assume that they’re not moving on. They can’t.

Let’s not forget the Afterlife moment where Ian was presented as, well, I’ll quote Sunshine here on this one:

He was a nerd, and he was silly, and he was VERY apologetically himself, but…What we had was special.

It seems as though Ian has a habit of apologizing in their relationship. We’ve seen many instances of him being apologetic even before he cheated. Often times when people apologize, they give the person they wronged gifts to represent their sincerity, sometimes really expensive gifts. Ian was jokingly referred to once as “Team has money, will pay ur bills.”

What if Ian has a habit of throwing money at his problems? What if he thinks money can fix, well, everything?

This does lead a new headcanon I have about Ian’s home life, particularly who his father might be. There’s this common theory that Ian is related to Jean Laurent, former co-star on the SunnyTime Crew Show who played the part of Rory Rainberry alongside Jack. Both Ian and Jean have similar orange hair and freckles, which has made this a compelling theory, even if the different surnames pose a wrinkle to the idea. It certainly would make sense how Ian has money and got a job as the new Jack if he was related to a famous actor with connections, particularly to the old show...

Now, I’m going pretty deep into headcanon on this point but I think Jean really is Ian’s father. Ian could have his mother’s last name, but not because Jean took her last name upon marriage. I don’t think there was actually any marriage at all.

This seems kind of strange given how religious Ian’s mother is, right? Obviously someone who was so upset at her son doing something so “sinful” as to live with their partner before marriage would get married themselves right? That’s not necessarily the case. Sometimes people are just plain hypocritical and project their own mistakes and problems onto people they control.

There’s a picture of a woman theorized to be Ian’s mother. The quote from this woman is very telling, even if it’s not strictly canon for the game.

Let’s break the picture down. This woman is in heavy makeup, with styled hair, long nails, and drinking presumably an alcoholic beverage in that martini glass. She is telling someone, presumably a child, that they are so ugly, the only way they’ll get sex is from a desperate sex worker unless they have a lot of money to burn.

Quite the awful woman. If she’s talking to her child, then that’s a sign of an abusive parent. Ian’s mother certainly seems similarly abusive in the afterlife story.

“...My mom called me.”

“Someone gave her our address…Or she might have had one of her friends watching. I don’t know…”

“S-She…Uh…She says that…To live with someone out of…Wedlock…I-It’s a sin? And I’m going to hell?”

“She said I’m only doing it to…To satisfy…My manhood…”

“I-I’m not taking advantage of you by doing this…Am I?”

What if these opinions of Ian are projections his mother had about herself and his father?

My headcanon is that Jean, a famous star, had a lot of sugar babies. Ian’s mother, Ms. Duff, was one of those people who latched onto him for money, connections, and fame. She tried to baby trap Jean into marriage, but that plan failed to work. She still got financial support from Jean, but now she was an unwed mother forced to raise a child on her own. That led her to being resentful and clinging more to religion and control over her son to vent her frustrations at the choices she made.

Ian seems to struggle with wanting his mother’s approval, even though she’s a horrible woman. What if he learned how to be apologetic from not only her abusive treatment, from her apologies as well? Why, she gave him something nice, so it means she really is sorry, right? She certainly could have been given plenty of nice things when her sugar daddy acted out but still tried to keep her on the hook...

Abuse can be a cycle that chains into the next person. Jean has control over Ian’s mother, apologizes when he hurts and upsets her, and gives her fancy stuff to make amends and keep her coming back to him. Ian’s mother abuses Ian, but gets him to keep listening to her through guilt and gifting him money for, say, a fancy college.

Those things might even be reason enough for Ian to unblock her and let her back into his life to keep influencing him. Sadly, there are people who have been abused to unblock their abusers out of guilt... or because they’re afraid of getting cut off.

Now Ian thinks that a new job with fame and money can fix his relationship with Sunshine. Of course it’ll work. It worked on his mom, who kept coming back to Jean despite how many times he cheated to satisfy his manhood...

Again, that is just my own headcanon and there’s very little evidence to prove it for sure, but I think it fits many pieces very neatly into place. Ian can use his connections through his dad to get the job at the rebooted Sunny Day Jack show, which is probably being produced by Jean, or at least Jean still has his old connections to LambsWork...

Of course, if the earlier theory that Sunny Day Jack was a role of a lamb to be slaughtered, what might that say about Jean giving his son the same part that murdered his co-worker all those years ago?

Now let’s finish things off with Shaun, who has kind of gotten the short end of the stick in terms of how much we know about him.

Shaun seems to be the most normal of the bunch, right?

Here, kitty-kitty~

You don't have to worry about anything with friends like Shaun looking out for you~

He might be into horror movies, goth fashion, and come from a family of funeral directors, but he seems pretty normal.

He seems normal.

There was a tweet, unfortunately now deleted, where Jambeebot seemed amused by the idea that the fans believe Shaun is the most normal of the love interests. There’s an implication that he might be just as... not quite right as the rest of them.

There’s not all that much to indicate Shaun is a threat to Sunshine. Even the creepy cut in picture is just him looking shocked/upset/angry while covered in blood. It doesn’t hint at him being the cause of violence. Even his profile and the teaser quotes don’t hint at a sinister side.

I still can’t quite shake the idea that if the other three leads might be yandere, Shaun might be too in order to round off the set.

After all, I had proposed the idea a while back that there are plenty of ways to be a yandere. A yandere essentially means “love sick,” a person who is unhealthy with love. I posited that there could be yanderes who aren’t inherently violent to others, but to themselves.

Remember in the demo the story about Shaun staying up all night then buying Sunshine breakfast the next day? What if Shaun is the type of yandere who sacrifices himself to unhealthy extremes for the sake of the one he loves?

Though there might be other things about him that are more dangerous that we’ll learn in the full release of the game. After all, the demo is short, and there are glimpses of a much bigger story waiting to be told...

Of course, we can’t dismiss the threat Jack poses over the others. After all, there’s this gem from his profile:

Jack is ready to be your best friend until the end in the most literal sense. The only question is-- what to do about those pesky, inferior other friends of yours who came before him and now stand in his way?

A “friend to the end in the most literal sense.” I think we can all get what that’s implying. The question is if Jack plans to speed up that end, or if it’s just he plans to be with Sunshine until the end of their natural lifespan?

It seems unlikely to be the former, as Jambeebot stated that Jack sincerely does love Sunshine and just wants to bask in their warm and happy light. This still seems quite sinister in any case.

Then, of course, there’s the fact that Jack finds Sunshine’s other friends to be pesky, inferior, and in his way. Is it just because they’re friends, or is it because they want what he wants - Sunshine’s love?

We can’t dismiss the idea that Jack really is the game’s one and only antagonist and he could possess and manipulate others into violence. Personally though, I want to go with the headcanon that all the guys are yandere for Sunshine.

Wouldn’t it be such a great twist if the obvious threat of the ghost in the cursed VHS tape was actually the person who is the least dangerous threat to Sunshine? After all, as Jack said, he can’t do anything Sunshine doesn’t want him to... No other yandere would have the same supernatural guarantee of their consent and safety.

Edit:  Oops forgot the obligatory tags for @channydraws and @earthgirlaesthetic. If you want to get tagged when I make the next headcanon post, just let me know!

Also, if you like my writing, consider checking out my SDJ fanfic, Sunshine in Hell and leaving a comment telling me what you think. I just adore hearing from you!

[exquisiteserotonin]

Footsteps to Follow

Part 2: Show Me How

Series Summary: The loss of a loved one lasts forever and every person finds different ways to heal.

Pairing: Romantic Pairing will eventually be Foodtruck Owner! Joel x Alice, but nonromantic pairing is Dave York and his daughter Alice.

Warnings: MATURE, 18+ ONLY, please. No smut here, but A LOT of angst and sadness, death and violence, human trafficking of minors

Word Count: ~2.7K

A/N: This is going to be a slow burn, I have a clear idea of where this is going. I hope you enjoy and hope you are patient and will stick with me for the payout of this story. It's fast becoming my baby <3 Also a HUGE, HUGE shoutout to one of my besties @imalrightllama who gave me an idea for a certain image in this part.

Also I don't know French I only put one word of it in here, Désolé, and it means excuse me.

Thank you so much to my magical sluts for encouraging me with this! <3 I'm so glad you love Alice as much as I do.

@imalrightllama @youandmeand5bucks @legendary-pink-dot @basicoccult @blueheat1-blog1 @redhotkitchen @sparklefarts38 @arcanefox207

The morning light floated softly through the air, touching the apartments, cafes, and offices that stood alongside the cobblestone streets. It shimmered against the fresh, clean morning dew that mixed with the aroma of viennoiserie and coffee from cafes that stood like guards at nearly every street corner. Alice sat in a pretty, metal cafe chair stirring in the small splash of milk in her coffee. She dipped the last bit of croissant she had left into her coffee; part of the blackberry jam she had spread on it fell into the bottom of the cup. She swirled the last bit of coffee in her mug before bringing it to her lips. The last bit was always her favorite. The sweet taste and light tartness from the jam was a perfect companion to the bitterness of the coffee. 

If it weren’t for the job, she could enjoy her time here more. She rose from her quiet spot near the front door of the cafe. She walked along quiet morning streets as market vendors began setting up their different produce, wares, and textiles. The streets were beginning to become less crowded the closer you approached the seedier part of town, the part of town no tourists were ever supposed to visit after dark. Alice glanced at her reflection in the shoppe windows she walked alongside. She could almost pass for a locale, with a pair of sensible, but fashionable straight legged jeans and navy blue and cream-colored striped sweater. The only part that was unrecognizable was the blonde colored wig she donned on her head. But just like her clothes, the style of it blended well with every other French girl who still had shaggy layers and bangs reminiscent of Brigitte Bardot. 

Alice’s strides became smaller as the sidewalk became more crowded with people and refuse. As she walked through the growing crew of pedestrians, she lost her footing when she was jolted off balance by a passerby. 

“Désolé,” she murmured. 

Looking up through her sunglasses, she noticed a girl not more than fourteen, wearing a short form-fitting black dress, disheveled and confused. She was flanked by two tall and burly men with thick, dark hair atop their square heads.

The Corsicans, she thought to herself. 

They were doing a fair job trying to keep her steady but hidden from any unwanted attention. Their attempts were nowhere near the skill level with which Alice blended in with the crowd, unassuming and unthreatening. Alice stole into a small grocery store watching as the two men hoisted the limp girl up the stairs of a perfectly ordinary-looking apartment building across the perfectly ordinary street.

The next part was always the easiest and quickest for her. Floating her way through adjoining terraces and rooftops was akin to taking the lead in a lazy pas de deux, where all she had to do was pirouette, jump, and throw her dance partner around. Their arrogance of leaving a window near the rooftop allowed her to slink in silently. Another girl, not more than fifteen, lay limp on a bed, alive in body but barely in spirit. She wanted to take them away one by one from this life they had been forced into with the promise of comfort and wealth. 

The targets are your priority. She heard her mentor’s voice in her head. Distractions will get you killed. 

A silencer covered gun in one gloved hand and a knife in the other, she danced her way through. Guns to heads and knives to throats, it took less than 10 minutes. For a moment she thought one of the burly thugs had laughed at her size. It was his mistake. He was dead with a stab to the throat before he could even aim his gun at her. One last target awaited and expected her, having heard his associates fall like dominoes before him. He was holding the girl you had seen earlier unsteadily in his hands. 

“One wrong move and her mother won’t even recognize her body to identify her,” the gangster roared at her in French.

She didn’t even need the time it took her brain to translate what he said to English for her bullet to strike him between the eyes. Alice was able to look at the girl’s face as she knelt in front of her grabbing a nearby towel wiping the blood she had spilled gingerly from her face as much as she could. She examined her body for any trauma that might need immediate medical attention. Alice’s inner brows were raised with disappointment and sadness. If she could, she’d stay and tend to the girls to make sure they were safe, but she wasn’t keen on blowing her cover and ending up dead like the mobsters she’d just killed. Instead, she reached into her pocket for her phone and dialed the number of the local police. She gave them the address as she escaped the way she came in, barely a scratch on her. With the agility of a cat, she crept through the open terrace window of a nearby apartment, grabbing a brown sweater from the coat hanger by the door without anyone turning a head or batting an eye. Just in time to hear the two-toned sirens of the police, she was already walking far away from the scene and discarding her blonde wig.

Alice climbed the stairs to the sixth floor of the apartment building to Room 603, her safe house. Rope thin gaps between the curtains allowed threads of light to peek into the otherwise dark and sparsely decorated apartment. 

“You should have been here five minutes ago,” she heard a quiet voice of a woman say. 

“I had to take care of something,” Alice said to the figure hidden in shadows sitting in the lone modern chair tucked off to the left side of the room.

Alice swiftly made her way to the bathroom, yanking off her sweater and tossing it onto the floor. The figure, her handler, followed behind her. 

“Wait,” her handler said as she approached her, “let me look at you.”

Her handler stepped close, placing her hands to her face with a gentle touch as she examined her face and neck. Alice’s eyes shifted to a small tattoo on the inside of her handler’s left wrist. She allowed herself a moment to study its impeccable design. Dots, lines, and shading revealed the delicate design of a firefly. 

“You got nicked,” her handler stated, her eyes narrowing with her examination as her voice quivered with something that sounded like concern. 

“Stop looking at me like you care,” Alice slapped her handler’s hand away. “You’re not my mother.”

“Because your mother was so good at that.” 

“Are we done here?” Alice asked, turning on the shower. 

“Don’t get sloppy, Alice,” Firefly said. “Don’t get soft;  don’t get killed.” 

“Thanks for the advice.” 

“Your father would---,” she continued. 

“Stop,” Alice interjected, the corners of her lips twitching, “you don’t get to do that.” 

“Fine,” she let out a shallow breath before setting down a carefully folded paper sleeve on the nightstand. “Your plane tickets. Flight leaves in 3 hours.”

“Got it.” 

Alice looked at her, her expression unmoving as she strode away to leave. Firefly turned to her one more time before walking out the door. Her eyes were glassy, and her bottom lip trembled ever so slightly before she pressed her lips together. The way her brows had softened, her eyes rounded and open, and the way her shoulders slowly slumped caught Alice off guard. In response, she pressed her shoulders back and knit her brows together wondering what her handler could possibly say next. 

“Don’t get killed…please.”

Before Alice could respond, she was gone. 

When she returned to the bathroom, she looked in the mirror before getting into the shower and examined the scratch. Her breath escaped her lips with a fast huff when she saw a small trickle of dried blood on her neck. With a tight squeeze of her eyes, she turned away from her reflection and found her way to the shower, letting the warm water rain on her. An invisible tightness began to lodge itself in the back of her throat at the realization that if one of the targets had just been able to dig the knife a little deeper or slash at her a little bit closer, she would be dead. 

It would have been easy to dwell further on her tiny errors, instead she focused on washing her kills off her body and getting out of Paris. She moved like being propelled by the fastest and most efficient motor. Without checking her watch, she knew she had made it to the airport and through security with sufficient enough time that she wasn’t wringing her hands waiting for her section to be called for seating. 

A clear voice sounded over the PA system for her section to begin boarding. She sat comfortably in her seat, surprised that Firefly had secured the premium economy section. The hum of the cabin had Alice staring hypnotically out the window. She shook her head, determined not to let sleep settle over her. Fighting against the hypnosis, she buckled her seatbelt and tightened it. She shuffled her feet underneath her and adjusted the air vent, so it blasted her directly with its cold air. Listening intently to the routine safety procedures given to her by the flight attendants couldn’t even keep her eyelids from growing heavy. By the time the aircraft rumbled and ascended into the air, Alice had lost her private fight against falling asleep. 

*** 

A soft, warm haze surrounded Alice as she found herself in an empty room. The walls glowed with gentle orange, coral, and pink light that touched the walls like watercolors on an empty canvas. With cautious steps, Alice breathed in her surroundings trying to make sense of the warm but empty space where she stood. 

A voice called out to her that seemed to be coming, impossibly, from all directions. 

“Hi baby,” she heard a low familiar voice call to her.

With a gasp that leapt from her heart to her throat, Alice gasped and spun around. Tears started to escape from the corners of her eyes. Standing before her was her father wearing a light blue dress shirt and black slacks: the last outfit she remembered seeing him in. A gentle breeze lightly caressed the strands of his soft brown hair. Every feature of his face was imprinted in her brain, from the way lines formed on his forehead when he lifted his brows, to the way a dimple showed itself on the right side of his face when his smile was especially big. It didn’t matter how young she was when she last saw him, his face was impossible to forget. 

A deep exhale rushed out of her mouth at the sight of him. It was all that could come out in place of the words that she wanted so desperately to say. 

“Looking for me, Al?” he said as he studied her with soft, round eyes, his hands resting gently and open at his sides. 

“I’m always looking for you, dad,” she was finally able to say, her voice barely coming out louder than a whisper from the tightness in her chest. 

Her shoulders rose and fell as he reached his arms out to her. With one swift movement, he enveloped her in his arms, and she felt like she was seven years old again. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and tears began to slip continuously from her eyes down the curve of her face. The curve of her parted lips trembled as she clutched the back of her father’s shirt, gripping it tighter like if she did, he might stay. 

“I miss you so much, daddy,” she sobbed. 

“I know Al, me too,” the way he breathed into her hair as he murmured the words was so warm and so palpable. “It’s almost time for me to go again.”

“No please, dad, please don’t go,” Alice pleaded through her tears. 

“Oh Ali-girl,” he sighed as he comforted her.

She felt him drifting further and further away from her like smoke in the wind.

“You’re going to be OK; I need you to be OK.”

His voice became stern for a moment and rough like gravel at those words.

“Please,” she begged as each clutch she made to keep him with her failed. 

“Al, please listen, I need you to take care of yourself,” he said, using his turn to beg with one last kiss to her forehead. “Love you, kiddo.” 

And just like that, he was gone. 

Alice awoke with a wet face and eyes red and puffy from her tears that found a way from her dreams to the real world. She pressed the back of her right hand to her face, allowing your skin to soak in your tears and attempting to hide her face from anyone who might see. She remained awake but lost herself in the hum of the cabin, feeling an invisible haze wrap itself around her body as she stared at the upper left corner of the in-flight magazine resting in the back pocket of the seat in front of her.

“Ma’am…ma’am, excuse,” she heard a shrill voice begin to break through her haze, “ma’am!” 

She turned bewildered, still noticing how puffy her eyes were from her tears. An older woman in the seat next to her turned to the flight attendant---the owner of the shrill voice---and glared at her with narrow eyes and the center of her eyebrows angled downward towards one another. 

“Can’t you tell that she’s not in the mood?” The woman replied to the attendant.

Still frozen inside her own thoughts, Alice watched as the woman next to her and the flight attendant rallied back and forth with a controlled heat behind their respective words. The flight attendant walked away with barely audible huff. When the woman turned back to her the lines around her eyes had softened and the corners of her lips were curled up into a small and gentle smile. 

“Thank you,” Alice said quietly, “that was really kind of you.” 

“Well, I hope someone would have done the same for me,” she responded. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine---I’m just---tired,” Alice sighed. 

“Well, if you need sleep the rest of the way,” the woman added, “I’ll make sure no one bothers you.” 

“That’s alright, I’m actually trying to stay awake,” Alice replied, “I’m just super eager to get home.” 

She could tell the woman was trying to read the emotions that were so obviously written on her face. It was almost laughable to think that she could hide everything and anything she was in a city of nearly twelve million people, but she couldn’t disguise her feelings from a kind stranger in the confined space of an airplane. 

“Well, I will let you rest,” the woman responded, giving her yet another gift of silence and the space to swim in her emotions, “but if you need anything, let me know.” 

Alice nodded as she reached into the pocket of her blazer. Resting in her hands was her keychain. It was lavender in color and in the shape of a vintage motel keychain. Her fingers traced over the sides of it, the tips of it reading the script along with her eyes. “New Hampshire” is what it read before she had scratched out the final syllable and covered it with beige washi tape. She traced over the tape with a light touch, a smile slowly blossomed on her lips, somehow filled with both melancholy and love as she studied where she had carefully written on it with a fine tip sharpie marker. 

New Hamster.

She took one deep breath through her nose and let it out in a slow, quivering exhale. With the keychain safely tucked into the palm of her right hand, she managed to stay awake for the rest of the flight home. 

[bazzybelle]

In These Violent Days, I'll Be Where You Are - 2K - Teen

For Dreamling Week - Day 1: Bar Fight

I'm Baaaaaack! I've been working on longer stories, both for the Sandman and Carry On Fandoms, BUT today is the first day of Dreamling Week. I have been working on some smaller fics, which I will be posting throughout the week. I will also be bombarding my feed with Dreamling posts from the INCREDIBLE writers, artists, and general chaos demons this amazing fandom has produced.

I hope you enjoy the beginning of my journey into writing Dreamling. I've been having so much fun in this fandom and I'm glad to share my joy with you all.

Thank you to the amazing mods and humans from the @mr-sadman server who have been so supportive and kind. You guys are amazing for putting together this awesome fest and for bringing us wild people together.

You can read the story below the line break or you can check out the story on AO3, by clicking the link!

Click here to read on AO3!

“Duck, that really wasn’t necessary.” Hob had been struggling with the lock to his flat above the New Inn. That is, until his overly protective and overly concerned boyfriend, fashioned another key from out of thin air and slid it into the lock with ease. Really, he was fretting over nothing. Sure Hob was nursing a black eye, and a few cuts and scrapes to his face, and come to think of it, he’s pretty sure his nose is also broken. But he can take care of himself. He’d been getting into barfights since he was a young’un, barely any meat on him. 

“I will not have you suffering any more for the remainder of the evening.” Dream slid an arm across the small of Hob’s back and carefully guided him inside the flat. Once inside, Hob kicked off the stupidly high stiletto heels he’d been wearing that night, and groaned at the sight of a dangerously purple bruise covering the better part of his left ankle. 

Right, add a sprained —possibly broken— ankle to the list of injuries he’d sustained tonight. 

Dream carefully manoeuvres the both of them into Hob’s bedroom, and it is at this moment where the adrenaline he’d been feeling for the last few hours decides to fade. Hob winces as he puts too much pressure on his fucked up ankle. 

“My point exactly,” says Dream, as he helps Hob settle onto the bed, before helping him out of his outfit (a skin-tight, sequined fiery red number, adorned with roses of varying sizes in black and shades of red). It’s probably dotted in bigot blood, but Hob doesn’t find he cares too much about spilling blood. He’s more upset that he’s ruined the outfit. He paid a pretty penny for it. Granted, it was well worth it, and he was helping one of the fashion design students at the university to showcase their work. But still, it is rather unfortunate that it had to get ruined. He would have liked to be able to use it again. 

“Love, I’m going to have to stand up again to get this off.” Hob attempts to get on his feet once more, but yelps as soon as his injury makes contact with the floor. 

Dream looks unimpressed. 

“Allow me to help you,” Dream says as he carefully undoes the zippers and clasps, removing the layers that allow Sherry Punch to show the world who she is. It takes a bit of time and a little elbow grease —or possibly, some dream magic— but they manage to get the outfit, and undergarments off. Dream carefully hangs the ensemble on Hob’s closet door, before grabbing a pair of his softest pyjamas. Hob, in the meantime, takes off the large, cherry-red wig adorning his head (styled in perfectly coiffed victory rolls, thank you very much) and hands it to Dream. 

“We still have all this to deal with,” he says gesturing to the mess of makeup, glue, and blood on his face. A corner of Dream’s lips quirks up, before he gently moves some of Hob’s hair away from his eyes. 

“I shall be back with your tools to remove your makeup, as well as your first-aid kit.”

“Third time this month I get to use it!” 

Dream’s not amused with the cheeky grin Hob gives him, but he chooses not to respond, exiting the room like a shadow. Once he’s gone, Hob sighs and leans back against the headboard. As much as he jests about fights in his pub, he had truly believed tonight would be different. 

The political atmosphere in London has been less than desirable— No, who is he kidding? It’s been absolute shit, is what it’s been. Protests in front of libraries, bloody wankers screaming at children and innocent drag queens who really have done nothing wrong. Politicians pandering to the absolute worst of society, by targeting the most vulnerable in his community. With each passing day, more and more safe spaces are removed due to threats and intimidation, and Hob for one was beyond fed up with it. 

The New Inn, from the moment of its birth, dedication, whatever you wish to call it, has been a place for marginalised people. From its poetry smash evenings, to its Fab in Drag nights, The New Inn welcomes any and all who wish to learn more about the LGBTQ+ community, and especially those who wish to explore their gender and sexual identities (or lack thereof) in a judgement-free environment. Hob worked hard to ensure it would stay that way, with the turmoil of life outside its doors. 

But of course, bigotry knows no bounds, and a few months ago, the protests found their way to The New Inn. Tonight was not the first time Hob had been forced to manhandle someone who had gotten too close for comfort. Tonight though, tonight was the first time a few of them had made it inside the pub. The event was ticketed and supposedly heavily vetted (though clearly not enough). Hob had felt comfortable enough to perform tonight as Sherry Punch. Sherry had become an important part of his life since the early 2000s, and she’d come out to play whenever Hob was feeling especially confident. Lately, Sherry had been forced to take a mini retirement, so that Hob could make sure any other drag performers were not harassed, or hurt. 

Tonight was supposed to be secure. For the first time in almost a year, Sherry Punch was coming back to the stage, refreshed and ready to slay. She had barely had a chance to get through her set before the heckling and harassment started. It didn’t seem to be too big a deal at first, and Sherry was used to a bit of heckling. She’d dealt with worse in her hey-day, and was able to shame a few of them enough that they left the pub in a huff (escorted, of course, by some of the bartenders working tonight). 

One particular tosser, a big, burly, monster of a man had managed to get close enough to the stage. Close enough, that when Sherry reached out to the crowd, he’d jumped out at her, attempting to pull her down to the floor. The thing was, Sherry wasn’t the type of queen to allow herself to be dragged down like that. So Sherry fought back, yanking the man by his coat lapels and kneeing him in the groin. 

Things escalated from there, and Sherry had to make a hasty retreat and Hob had to come back, practically tossing the bastard through the window. It would have turned into an all out riot, had Dream not been there to influence the crowd to peacefully, and safely disperse. One of his bartenders did end up calling an officer who thankfully apprehended the man. But Hob would have to go and formally make a statement and press charges (not that it would do anything). 

But all that could wait for tomorrow. For now, Hob slowly eases into his pyjamas as Dream returns to the bedroom. He smiles fondly at him, noticing the full tray. Hob can make out his makeup remover wipes, some peroxide and bandages, as well as an ice pack and a glass of water. 

Gods above, but he does love this man. Being. Anthropomorphic personification of a concept. He loves Dream, is what he means.

“We should be doing the cleaning in the bathroom.” 

“It is unwise to move you. I would like to prevent further injury to your ankle.” Dream places the tray on the bed and grabs a few pillows to stuff behind Hob. And he does like to be taken care of every once in a while. But honestly he feels disgusting and bloody, and he really should have insisted they go into the bathroom instead. 

“You know,” Hob says, moving to the edge of the bed, “this isn’t even the worst of the injuries I’ve sustained in this month alone. Remember that protest in front of the library near the park?” He doesn’t get far, the throbbing pain in his ankle keeping him rooted to his spot. 

Dream doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to. He simply rolls his eyes, while pushing Hob back against the headboards. 

“If you weren’t so strong I would— oh, fuck. Love that feels amazing,” Hob moans as Dream places the ice pack on his swollen ankle. Ice packs, definitely a top invention from the last hundred years. And they only got better as time went on. The ones he has in his flat, for example, can be frozen or heated up. There are days where Hob’s old war wounds make it near impossible to get out of bed. Those are the days he makes the most use out of the several packs he’s got laying around. 

A corner of Dream’s lip quirks. He gets to work, slowly removing the makeup from Hob’s face, careful not to agitate his swollen cheek and bruised nose. Hob closes his eyes and all but leans into the gentle touch. As long as he’s held a torch for the person taking care of him, Hob never really imagined this would be his reality. 

He definitely didn’t expect this to be his future when he was a scrawny, gangly little thing at twenty-two, fighting and killing to survive long enough to either find work in a field, or a war in which to be a soldier. 

Hob’s life, if he’s being completely honest with himself, has been painted by violence. Sure, he could justify some of his actions, especially in the beginning. Some of the murders were accidental, or a consequence of fighting to survive. You had no choice in the “good ol’ days”. Back then, a show of mercy could mean a knife in your back. Back then, it was kill or be killed. Hob could barely remember, after over 600 years, the faces of the men he’d killed. They’ve all blended together at this point, as a generic bloody-faced man that will haunt his dreams from time to time, reminding him of the red in his ledger. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dream applies some gentle solvent over the glue lingering on his face. 

Hob smiles ruefully. “Just admiring my brilliant boyfriend.” 

“Your flattery will earn you no favours, Hob Gadling.” 

“Oh come on. Not even a small one?”

“Hmm. Perhaps.” Dream leans closer into Hob’s space, slowly wiping a smudge of cherry-red lipstick off of his lips. He traces his fingers over their chapped, rough edges, lightly teasing them, before placing a soft kiss. 

“Will you share your thoughts with me, beloved?” He whispers, caressing the side of Hob’s head. He can feel the light fluttering of Dream’s breath upon his face. Forever the greedy, touch-hungry bastard he is, Hob is weak to every sweet intimate moment that Dream initiates between them. He’d give the world and more for a second of Dream brushing his fingers over his cheeks, or carding his fingers through his hair. 

“I was just thinking back to when I was first getting into bar fights. I never would have thought my life would end up like this.” Hob picks up one of the wipes and rubs it distractedly over one of his eyes. Dream places his hand over Hob’s, steadying and guiding it over the makeup still left on his face. 

“You have had the privilege of 600 years of experience. You are hardly the man I met in 1389.”

“Still just as charming though, right?”

Dream huffs a small laugh. “Always, agapi mou.” He reaches for the bottle of peroxide and starts to clean the scratches and minor cuts lingering. Immortal as he is, Hob still needs between a few hours and a few days to heal from injuries (depending on how severe they are) (he once spent nearly a week laying in a ditch somewhere in Ypres after a brutal battle in 1916). 

“My life has been an endless, pun unintended, streak of blood. It seems I cannot help but give into my violent nature. No matter how things change, or get better.” 

“Your penchant for violence cannot be denied.” Dream isn’t one to pull back any punches, and Hob is grateful for that. He doesn’t need empty platitudes, not from the person who knows him better than anyone else. 

Dream brushes a cotton pad over a small gash above Hob’s eyebrow. Hob’s eyes flutter shut, as he exhales deeply. 

So soft. 

So gentle. 

“But your reasons for engaging with the violent facet of your personality have changed, have they not?”

They have. They started changing in the 1500s with the smile of his beloved Eleanor. They changed further with the squalling cry of a precious babe in his arms. Hob had wanted to protect Robyn from any sort of violence, and as such neglected to teach him how to fight. To fight like you had nothing to your name and everything to live for. 

A mistake he carries with him to this day. Though it isn’t as heavy a burden as it was centuries ago. 

One of many mistakes, his brain helpfully supplies.

No, he doesn’t fight for selfish reasons anymore. Not since being scolded for participating in something as dark and disgusting as the slave trade. He will never make amends for the pain he was party to. And he doesn’t deserve to feel better about the mistakes he’s made. He just chooses to keep learning and doing better day by day. 

“I fight for those who can’t,” he says, looking into the sparkling blue eyes of the man he loves above all others. 

“You do,” he says, pressing a small kiss onto Hob’s eyelids. It never fails to bring shivers to his spine, all the while warming his heart right up. 

“It is something I love about you, amore mio. You do not hesitate to protect those you care about. Even if it means you wind up with a broken nose, and a sprained ankle.”

A small, but smug smile makes its way to Hob’s lips. “Can’t deny I looked good kicking a bigot’s arse.”

“I’ll admit, watching you fight is always exhilarating.” Dream leans over, whispering in Hob’s ear “However, after your impromptu performance, I felt the need to restrain myself.”

Hob reaches for one of Dream’s hands, intertwining their fingers. “Did you now? Maybe I should let Sherry Punch out to play more often then, I reckon?”

“She truly is, what you would call, a sexy bitch.”

“You did not just say that!” Hob cries out loud, arms wrapping around his stomach as laughter peels out of him. 600 years he’s known Dream and yet he keeps on surprising him. Dream. The Prince of Stories. Shaper of Forms and the Lord of Dreams and Nightmares. His Dream, just referred to Hob’s drag persona as a “sexy bitch”. 

And in that deep, sonorous voice that never fails to drive him mad. 

He loves him. So fucking much. 

“God’s wounds, duck, if I wasn’t in this much pain, I’d have you here and now.”

Dream waves a hand over the tray and its many contents, vanishing them away from Hob’s bed. His black cloak, grey shirt, and dark jeans change into a soft t-shirt and dark flannel pants. He helps Hob get settled into bed, before nestling behind him, wrapping his long arms around Hob’s waist. 

“Then sleep, and allow me to protect your dreams, as you protected your community tonight. My beloved knight.” 

Warmth spreads from Dream’s fingertips like sweet treacle, coating Hob’s veins and numbing any lingering pain he feels. A part of him still wants to think about the continuing presence of violence in his life. A part of him wants to vent and rage about the way the night was ruined for everyone involved. 

But those are worries for the morning. When he’s not comfortably nestled in the arms of the man he loves. They are worries for when he is able to make it out of bed without howling in pain. When Hob is healed and ready, he’ll pick up the fight once again. He always does. 

But for now, it’s enough to close his eyes, and follow Dream into his Realm for a night of peaceful sleep. 

[scapegrace74-blog]

The Man from Black Water, Chapter 20

A/N  With this epilogue, I’m wrapping up the crazy crossover that was bringing Jamie and Claire into the Man from Snowy River universe.  Thanks to everyone for reading, commenting, liking and reblogging.  It’s been a real joy to introduce many of you to this world that I’ve loved since I was you.

Previous chapters are available on my A03 page.

“Twins?” sapphire eyes rounded with tentative excitement.  “How can ye be sure?”

“If you put your hand here, you can feel one head,” Claire patiently explained.  “And over here is another.”

“Tang dhia,” Jamie offered up a heartfelt prayer of thanks for this abundance of good fortune.

“Ye’ll be able to deliver them safely, Sassenach?” his smile faltered as worry set in.

Claire looked up from where she was crouched on the barn floor.

“That’s really up to this lady here,” she patted the cow on the flank as she rose to her feet.  “But I’ll do whatever I can to help her out.”

Jamie nodded, relieved by his wife’s reassurance.

“That was the last heifer ye needed tae examine, aye?”

“Yes, I’m all done.  With a little luck, we’ll have eleven calves joining the herd come springtime.”

It was better than Jamie could have hoped, and it was all thanks to his wife.

***

After a blissful few days sequestered indoors, familiarizing themselves with the many carnal delights their new marriage offered, Claire finally convinced her husband to don enough clothing to step outside on a crisp, clear day, and show her his ideas for improving Lallybroch.  Excited his humans were no longer abed, Rollo lolloped ahead of them.

“A larger stable would go aboot here,” Jamie indicated a relatively flat piece of elevated ground, “wi’ space enough fer six stalls and a wee storage room fer yer instruments an’ such.”

Claire marveled once again at her husband’s easy acceptance of her chosen profession and his utter certainty she would be successful in pursuing it.

“Around the bend in the river there is a spot that’s sheltered from the northerly wind where I’d build a shed fer the cattle,” Jamie continued, his voice growing eager with anticipation.

“Won’t it be too cold to keep them out of doors all winter?” Claire wondered aloud.

With no little pride, Jamie preceded to spell out his grand plan. By crossbreeding hardy Highland cows with Lowland breeds better known for their meat, he intended to beat the cattle barons like Henry Beauchamp at their own game, albeit on a much smaller scale. The resulting livestock would be far cheaper to over-winter and would not need to be driven back and forth to the rich upland grazing, thus saving time and increasing yield.

“Jamie, that’s brilliant!” Claire enthused.  Her husband blushed beneath his winter tan, delighted by her praise.  Caught up in her excitement, Claire then proceeded to suggest several refinements to his plan.  The most important of these was to purchase slightly older heifers, rather than the one-year-olds he’d planned to procure from her father.

“Wouldna the older mothers ha’ fewer years tae produce?” he asked.

“Some animals bear young that are carbon copies of themselves, no matter the sire.  If you look at a cow’s previous offspring, you’ll know whether she’s going to pass along the longer coat and that Highland hardiness that you’re after.  You lose a few generations of calves, but what you gain are the characteristics you’re trying to ensure.”

Jamie looked at his wife in awe, the cold breeze staining her cheeks the colour of summer apples and blowing her hair amok.  It made him wonder.

“Will our bairns take after their sire’s red hair, do ye think Sassenach?” he half jested.  “Or will they have a mad curly wig like their mam?”  In truth, he rather hoped for a combination of the two.

Still a bit shy about speaking openly of their romantic life and its consequences, Claire bit her lip and looked down the glen, rather than meeting his eye.

“I suppose we’ll have to see, won’t we?”

***

“When do you leave for Inverness?” Claire asked as they walked hand-in-hand back to the main house after examining the cows.

“Day after next, if the weather holds.”

“I’m so proud of you, darling.  Perthshire’s first crofting commissioner.”

The Napier Commission had finally achieved its aims, and Parliament had passed the Crofters Holding Act the previous summer.  No longer could the Campbells or any other landlord turn Jamie or his fellow crofters out of their hereditary homes, so long as they continued to occupy them and used the land productively.  Rents couldn’t be arbitrarily increased.  The various counties of Scotland had elected representatives to a Crofting Commission that oversaw all disputes between crofters and their landlords.  Well-respected, charismatic and intelligent, James Fraser had been a natural choice for their region.

“Will ye visit wi’ yer Aunt Rosemary and Murtagh while I’m away?” he asked as they closed the door against the wind and moved into Lallybroch’s new ground floor sitting room.  A beautiful pine stairway Jamie had crafted by hand led upstairs to the three bedrooms.

“Maybe for the day, but I’m looking forward to having the time to do a little reading, perhaps catch up on some mending.”

Jamie settled into his favourite overstuffed armchair beside the fire, pulling Claire onto his lap before she could sit elsewhere.

“Are ye tired o’ yer husband awready then?” he teased, kissing the velvet skin beneath her jaw.

“You are rather distracting,” Claire purred as she extended her neck to invite further exploration.

“Aye,” he agreed, too pleasantly occupied to feign indignation.  Claire shifted her weight, rubbing her ample bottom against his groin in a move he was quite certain was deliberate.  She looked like an angel, but his wife was an incorrigible wanton, God be praised.

“Jamie?” she interrupted as he began the laborious process of peeling off all her winter layers.

“Hmm?”

“Maybe, by the time you come back from Inverness, I’ll have news for you.”

Even nose deep in her cleavage, Jamie heard the tentative, expectant tone in his wife’s voice.  His heart started to pound like a fist against his ribs.  He looked up into her bright, hopeful face with tears stinging the back of his throat.

“Then I shall rush home wi’ all due haste, Sassenach.”

[sijssjsbssjsnsnnskbskwns]

Carl E X Reader Idea’s for you!

~CARL E~

~Y/N~

CARL E X READER

•Plot For These Ideas: The Stranger (2020) •Episodes: 13 •Season: 1 • Characters: Carl E, Y/N, Clare, JJ And The Rest of The People in the Season

• Carl E X Veronica MayDay!Reader (your Veronica mayday from helluva boss)

• Carl E X Scarlet Witch!Reader (You have the scarlet witch outfit from multiverse of madness, you have the Darkhold and your being corrupted slowly)

• Carl E X Nancy Downs!Reader (your Nancy downs from the craft)

• Carl E X Maleficent!Reader

• Carl E X Enchantress!Reader (Your the enchantress from Suiside Squad)

• Carl E X Raven!Reader (Raven from Titans 2018)

• Carl E X Cruella!Reader (Cruella 2021 Inspired, you wear a dark Scarlet Red wig to hide your real hair)

• Carl E X Ghostface!Reader

• Carl E X Mute!Blind!Reader (your 100% blind and mute, your blindness is not normal it’s a toph beifong kind of blind, as for also being mute Well you can’t speak at all)

• Carl E X Telekinesis!Reader (how strong is your telekinesis?…Well all you need to know is it’s Very Very Powerful, you can fly as well)

• Carl E X Vampire!Reader (Inspired by Abigail 2024)

• Carl E X Gothic!Siren!Reader

• Carl E X Demon!Reader

• Carl E X Jennifer Check!Reader

• Carl E X Zombie!Reader (your the only zombie in world, you can not speak that ability was taken away, you were a experiment gone wrong, you escaped and you are roaming the streets, you wear a mask so you don’t infect others, you have to fight the hunger for flesh everyday which is hard but you manage to keep yourself from doing so)

• Carl E X Pyrokinesis!Hydrokinesis!Reader (you have the power to manipulate Fire and Water)

• Carl E X Cryokinesis!Chorokinesis!Reader (you have the power to manipulate ice and plants)

• Carl E X Werewolf!Reader

• Carl E X Sapphire Witch!Reader (Scarlet witch powers but dark blue, you have the scarlet witch outfit from Wanda vision, you have the darkhold and started using it)

• Carl E X Amethyst Witch!Reader (Scarlet witch powers but purple, your not aware of your true power…yet)

• Carl E X Emerald Witch!Reader (Scarlet witch powers but green not red)

• Carl E X Rose Witch!Reader (scarlet witch powers but dark pink not red)

• Carl E X Golden Witch!Reader (scarlet witch powers but golden not red)

• Carl E X Darkness Witch!Reader (scarlet witch powers but black not red)

• Carl E X Girlfriend!Tourette’s!Reader

• Carl E X Psychopathic!Yandere!Reader

• Carl E X Female!Ink Bendy!Reader (your ink bendy but female version, bendy from bendy and the ink machine)

• Carl E X Murderer!Stalker!Reader

• Carl E X Female!Sonic!Reader (you have Sonic’s powers Sonic from Sonic the hedgehog movie)

• Carl E X Gay!Male!Reader (your Clare’s bestfriend)

• Carl E X Wednesday!Reader (Jenna Ortega version)

• Carl E X Female!Terminator!Reader

• Carl E X Female!Alastor!Reader (your Alastor from hazbin hotel but female version, you have a human disguise so you blend in)

• Carl E X Famous!Supermodel!Reader

• Carl E X Famous!Singer!Reader

• Carl E X Twin Sister!Reader (you and Carl E are identical twins)

• Carl E X Succubus!Reader

• Carl E X Female!Micheal Myers!Reader

(A/N: Hi hope this inspires you! If you want more inspiration go see my other posts it’s recommended!…I also made y/n au’s so you know what y/n might look or be like…you can also use these ideas on Wattpad or just here on tumblr just a suggestion!…Anyways YOUR WELCOME! :)

[phoenixriley]

Body Dysphoria + Leviathan

♡ Pairing: Leviathan x reader

♡ Warnings: angst, body dysphoria about chest, comfort, cosplay, established relationship, feminine anatomy, fluff, gender dysphoria, gn!reader, negative body image, non-binary!Levi, reader with a preference for a more masc. appearance 

♡ Also available on AO3!

Y/N’s body crashed against the Queen sized hotel bed with a thud. The soreness in their feet screamed at them as they lazily kicked off their shoes and tore off the short colorful wig. They sighed in relief as they ran their hands through their hair, their scalp finally feeling the cool air after twelve-plus hours of being shoved under the netted wig cap and the mountain of synthetic wig fibers.

“I love cosplay, but oh my Diavolo,” they sighed. “It just feels so good coming off.”

Levi hummed in agreement, removing the long salmon-colored wig from his head. A similar sigh escaped his lips as the tan netted cap slid from his head. Levi’s sighs grew louder, tearing off the thick lashes from his lids.

“Where did you put the lash boxes?” He asked, gazing around the room, searching the multiple stacks of makeup for the small cardboard boxes.

“Over there.” Y/N lazily pointed, barely moving the muscles in their body.

Levi followed the human’s directions and mumbled “I see them,” when he found the stack of lashes.

Silently, he worked away at putting away parts of his cosplay before dragging out the bag filled with contacts and contact accessories. Y/N watched the demon cross the room and position himself comfortably in front of one of the many mirrors with decent lighting. There the amethyst circle lens came out and the familiar amber irises reappeared. Y/N couldn’t help but smile.

“You have really pretty eyes.”

The human’s smile only grew as the demon’s cheeks flushed. Levi mumbled something incoherent while he attempted to coolly place the lenses back into their containers.

“D-Do you w-want to go first?” Levi managed out once his lenses were taken care of, motioning towards the bathroom.

“No, you go ahead,” Y/N replied, flipping onto their stomach. “I need to just lay here for a bit.”

“Okay.”

With that, Levi disappeared into the bathroom. Only a few minutes passed, however, before the demon reappeared. His head peeked out the door, his pink Ruri-chan top notably discarded.

“Y/N!” Levi called out. “Don’t forget to take your binder off.”

Their binder… right.

“Taking it off now,” they called back, their voice slightly strained at the reminder.

Slowly, they rose from their position on the bed and stood. Their fingers played with the fabric of their costume for a moment before slipping it off. Next was the white undershirt. Their fingers hesitantly slipped underneath the fabric and took it off as well, tossing it onto the dirty hotel floor, knowing it was too smelly to be worn again any more that weekend.

From their peripheral, they caught their reflection in the mirror. Immediately Y/N's eyes went to their bound chest. The white-cropped material taunted them, reminding them of the part of their body that brought them the most distress was just underneath.

If only they were born differently, or surgery was easier to get, they thought to themself.

With a begrudging sigh, Y/N's fingers slipped underneath the material and began the process of getting the compression material off their body. Quickly, they slipped on the baggiest shirt they could find after the binder was off. They went to go lay back on the bed afterward, but their eyes caught themself in the mirror once more.

“Y/N—” Leviathan called out, his voice trailing off when he stepped further into the room and saw the human.

Levi frowned at the sight. The human was now standing in front of the mirror, pressing their chest down to make the fatty area look less plumb like it did in their binder. The look on Y/N’s face was all too familiar to him. It was the same disdainful look he too gave when he looked in the mirror. A look filled with thoughts and emotions he wouldn’t wish on anyone, not even his worst enemy.

“You looked handsome today,” Levi tried, stepping further into the room, not sure what exactly to say as he crept behind them.

“Thank you,” Y/N replied quietly.

“Though, I think you look the most handsome right now.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly.

“…Really?”

They cringed when their voice went higher than they would’ve liked. Thankfully, Levi didn’t let them linger too long in their own thoughts.

“Really.” He softly smiled.

"Thank you, Levi."

[specialshinytrinkets]

(Masterpost)

Week 3: Bleak Light Of Justice

As all stories have heroes opposing villainy, this one, too, has a ray of light, ready to fight those defying laws. The detective agency's goal is to bring down the mafia, currently by getting rid of one of its branches — the casino.

By itself, the casino is a strong enemy for sure, establishing a level of interest in its hoarded wealth by many people. This is the reason as to why leader of the mafia "Silver Bullets" had decided to cooperate with the previous owner, adding extra security to both. As a result, the already noticable criminal activity (such as human trafficking and later added alcohol distribution) only rose up, yet keeping on a veil of prestiege.

The two detectives, interested in restoring justice, were L■■■■■■■ Needlemeyer and Karen Miller. Their method was sneaking into the place and investigating it, helping in later ambush. The two were a wonderful pair, able to blend in anywhere. Despite this, they were considered to be of the lower rank, but they were happy. They were satisfied, playing their roles in the grand scheme.

As the years went by, Needlemeyer had taken on plenty of roles, expanding into more "outrageous" disguises. One such, used outside of work at almost any given time, was Phoebe Kettleware (surname optional, for investigations only). The ginger wig — such color chosen by Phoebe, as her old hair — was often styled to be much shorter, with curls. The dress itself looked less like one of a flapper — she was 43 years old, after all. The pair adored this "persona" with all their hearts and debated against any accusations, mostly Karen.

It's obvious that anyone who has worked with their partner through thick and thin is bound to develop feelings. Ms Needlemeyer and Ms Miller were not an exceptions. They yearned to start a family officially together, but the accidents from work kept getting in the way of the proposal for the former. Decade or so later, she worked up the courage to ditch the ring altogether. The Fortuna was on her side that day.

...

If only it was on her side on the day she decided to inspect the rumours of previous casino owner getting blipped off.

Ms Miller, in her heart a Mrs, still waits for the news of her wondrous wife coming back. Turning up anywhere. Be it held hostage or driven off somewhere.

But not dead.

Not dead...

As of currently, Phoebe resides in "Rolling Dice" as a ghost. Despite her hatred for the place, her interviews of sorts with the workers uncovered that most of them have nowhere else to go. They got attached to this rough, calloused hand that feeds them. So, her plans have changed into bringing down the casino through the current owner — Samuel. And hopefully, his moral compass will get rerouted into a proper one...

[e-m-p-error]

'Take me back'

(Angel to Alastor)

Send ‘Take Me Back’ for a thread where your muse goes back in time to a pivotal event in my muse’s past.

[ Alastor ]

The young man tucked his auburn curls into the crocheted snood, making sure not to miss a single one. He was meticulous and calculated in his movements, smoothing his hair down to make it as flat as he could. He hummed a song from his latest radio show under his breath as he moved for his makeup, starting with his powder. He moved the makeup down his neck and over his chest, cleanly applying it to his almond skin.

As he moved to sing instead, he shifted in his seat at his vanity, reaching for his eye makeup. A beautiful, rich shade of red was applied to both eyelids and a little bit around the edges, painting him a pretty crimson. His lips were next to receive a similar color, and he carefully rubbed his lips together to spread the carnelian lip stain evenly.

Brushing his hands over his

the sequinned red dress he wore, he smiled at himself in the mirror. The see-through lace sleeves only covered the tops of his biceps, and melted into the modest jewel neckline with the black hearts angling down from the shoulders. The beading embroidery was a stark black against the crimson silk, and a beautiful, ornate design.

The bottom hem of the dress was covered in more black lace, and flowy as opposed to the contoured silk over his chest, hips, and upper thighs. When he rose from his seat, the dress touched the underside of his calves, around eight inches between the bottom of the dress and the top of his matching red heels. The last step was to affix the long, curly black wig over his head, setting it in place to look like his natural hair. It was his pride and joy, a real human hair wig.

He clicked on the wooden floor as he moved away from the vanity, finally noticing his company.

"My, my, friend!" He chirped suddenly, his voice a falsetto tone that was convincing enough as a recognizable female's voice, "You really shouldn't be in here! What...ever you are. Haha! I should-- We should... You should leave, and pretend you never saw anything here tonight."

[javaberrychip1998]

Assorted thoughts about fairy textiles/fashion:

Obviously fairies use leaves and flowers and stuff like that as fabrics. They use pixie/fairy dust to make the materials stronger and easier to work with. A single strand of silkworm thread or spider silk is often used to sew things together, with a pine needle or dry, thin blade of grass as a needle. (Porcupine quills are far too long, more likely used for spears and other weapons) For fairies in regions where they can’t farm insects for thread, thin blades of grass can also be used as thread, though the stitches will be more prominent.

Materials are used in accordance to their availability. Because of this, most fairy clothing is green, as leaves of many shapes and sizes, as well as grass, are abundant in most fairy regions. Flower petals come in a variety or rarity that effects their price accordingly. The most common color after green is yellow, with dandelions and buttercups being plentiful. Dandelions in particular are used as fluffy skirts for fairy children, or as hats. There was a brief fad of using dandelions as wigs, for fashionable yellow hair, but the trend was short-lived. (Obviously once dandelions turn to fluff, they are very affordable resource used for stuffing pillows, comforters, and children’s toys)

Next most common is white and then pink. Pale pink isn’t too rare, but brighter pinks are usually saved for special occasions. Rhododendrons are a classic choice for a prom dress. Purples are less common, and blue clothing is very rare, usually reserved for fairy nobles and royalty.

The color rules are of course not absolute, as ultimately it depends on the rarity of the flower itself. Fairies that reside in a garden will often have more of a variety to choose from than those that live in more wild areas. Fairies with a particular interest in fashion will frequently choose to live in a garden for this very reason. However, fairies from wilder areas may even travel a fair distance to secure a rose or lily for a special occasion. Fairies with enough wealth or status can have the rarer materials brought to them for a price. In particular, flowers with a very brief blooming-period (like magnolias) are incredibly expensive, and are a favorite of the highest of royalty. An orchid will likely only be seen on the fairy queen herself.

The common fairies will much more often be seen in clover, grass, dandelions, and the occasional violet. Even amongst the mass of green clothing, there is still a good variety, as there are many different shapes and patterns and shades of leaves a fairy can use. This of course varies greatly depending on the region. Any time that fairy nobles travel long distances for political purposes, a fairies home can easily be determined by what they wear.

The most common armor is made of pinecones as plate-mail, with acorns as helmets. Maple seeds can even be used as wing-covers for protection, particularly for young fairies who’s wings are still developing. Thick blades of grass make decent belts, and any particularly sturdy leaf is used for more practical items like bags or shoes, which need the extra structure. Another use for sturdy blades of grass is as boning for corsets. The fluffy and abundant petals of a clover make for a lovely petticoat. Flowers that are too small to use as clothing will often be used as hats or jewelry, or other adornments.

Insect wings may be used occasionally for fashion purposes, though it is somewhat controversial, similar to human opinions on fur and leather. The ethics of it is hotly debated.

[haunted-house-heart]

tell me about jack b nimble PLEASE

!!!!!!!!!!!!! ok ok ok so !!!!!!!!!

jack b (short for beatriz) nimble is one of my dnd characters (i tried to play her in my first one shot and discovered that i was Not ready for that)

she's a transfem elf bard of the college of swords!

she's tall, with dark brown skin and short hair (half black half white, that goth style, yknow?) gold eyes, and she's so so goth. she's so cool. she wears like a long red and black ringmasters coat, button up shirt, corset, high waisted striped pants and tall lace up boots and always cool goth clown makeup, and sometimes brightly colored wigs for her shows

when jack was young, she ran away from home and joined the circus. at first she was just like a stagehand, helped clean up, etc, but as she got older she learned how to do sword swallowing and sword fighting, and she became a performer, known as "jack the invincible"

when she was around 18 (human equivalent idk elf years) she was doing one of her shows and she saw, peeking in through the tent entrance, the most beautiful girl in the world. she tried to find her after the show but she was already gone. every night she sees this girl watching her perform but can never catch her in time.

after a week of this, she's in her trailer after her show, and there's a knock at the door. she opens it to find the girl, nervously waiting with the most pitiful rose.

her name is althea. a human girl, very butch and very awkward and not attractive in any conventional sense but nonetheless, the most beautiful girl she'd ever seen.

they fell in love, fast and hard. jack decides to leave the circus to settle down and start a life together.

they get married. they built their home with their own hands in a little clearing in the woods, just outside of town. they eventually have two children; beatriz and ambrose. beatriz wants to be a ranger and ambrose is OBSESSED with wizardry. they're like five years apart, so when beatriz is 13 ambrose is 8

around that time, when the kids are that age, jack has to go into town. she kisses thea and the kids goodbye, expecting to see them again in maybe an hour or two.

but when she comes home, she is horrified. while she was gone, so briefly away, her family was murdered. her beautiful wife, her darling children, slaughtered in the home they built together.

she becomes obsessed with finding her family's killer. she rejoins the circus to use as a cover, because she fully intends to kill this person when she finds them, and she uses the travelling circus as means to get around anonymously

also fun fact i came up with her name in the shower and thought itd be funny

anyway i love her thank you for asking about her :)

[cyberneticlagomorph]

Gnomish country is... different to say the least.

You feel like a giant stomping through the diligently maintained paths and cobblestone (p... pebblestone??) streets.

The road to the Gnomish Embassy is wide at least... or wide for a gnome. Its the size of a city sidewalk at best, no Tallfolk vehicles allowed for safety, though they assured you that mobility aids such as wheelchairs don't count as vehicles and are fine so long as they get a heads up first.

Gnome country is like... if all those movies about sapient mice living parallel but nearly identical lives to their human counterparts in the walls and floors of their human's homes had a baby with zootopia and let it be raised by some steampunk Dwarven madman.

Most of Gnome Country is underground, tucked away in burrows and tree hollows and the tangled arms of plant roots, and while you are perfectly willing to make yourself small enough to fit the Gnomes insisted that you meet the Queen on Tallfolk terms.

The Gnomish Embassy is inside a fairly large hawthorn tree with a natural hollow at its base that has been converted into a number of human sized rooms with human sized furniture. It's kinda cute to watch the gnomes bustle around, scampering on all four limbs like mice, the points of their caps bobbing along.

...you wonder if it's racist to call them cute.

You are led to a plain room with wooden furniture carved with impossibly tiny scenes and a multitude of little ladders and ledges for the gnomes to use.

In a plush armchair across the room is a woman all dressed in black armor. Thorns sprout from her neck like spikes on a collar, her skin is milk white and shiny like porcelain.

No... not LIKE porcelain, it is porcelain. You can see the thin seams along her jaw that allow for complex articulation. Her body is ball jointed elsewhere, made of some kind of polished black metal that gleams red in the right lighting.

Her eyes are the all encompassing dark only found rodents, her delicate fingers end in sharp red claws, and her tail lays coiled in her lap like a snake. Rootlike and branching, each tip ends in a blooming rose or a tightly closed bud, its length is spangled with thorns of every size, mirroring the ones growing from her neck and shoulders.

The queen has no hair, not even a wig or a pointed cap like her subordinates, just complex swirling roses comprised of Gnomish text written in blood red ink on her bare head.

"Sit." Her voice echoes, and you realize that the room is shaped in such a way that sounds carry better. Like an opera house or a theater.

You sit, carefully and curl your own tail into your lap.

The gnome queen blinks the way puppets and dolls blink, it makes you uneasy.

You open your own mouth to speak but are silenced by a cold look, the porcelain plates of the queen's face grinding together as they move almost as smooth as flesh.

Almost.

Your discomfort must have shown on your face because she smiles then, just a little, and it is a terrible smile.

"Does this form displease you, dear princeling?"

[more-than-a-princess]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN.

what’s your phone wallpaper : My kitty, Molly. The sweetest and best girl, true princess of the household. She's also my lockscreen. She's seven years old and for the first six months of her life, she was a feral kitten. I'm so grateful she was able to be adopted! She likes watching the electric kettle, sitting by the window, watching British TV shows, getting her whiskers smoothed back, quiet, and cat grass. She dislikes noise, people (especially loud people and children), other cats, any food meant for humans, and all of the cat beds I've bought for her (sofa and my bed are superior).

last song you listened to: 6 Underground - Sneaker Pimps (Cruel Intentions soundtrack, anyone?)

last movie : Guardians of the Galaxy 3 and the Super Mario Bros Movie. Both were...okay? I've never played the Mario games beyond a few rounds of Mario Kart so the lore was lost on me.

last show : Queen Charlotte, The Great, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, XO Kitty, Succession, and a rewatch of the entire Endeavour series are at the top of my recent watch list. I'm also slowly rewatching the original Trigun in order to watch Stampede during the summer. There's also some K-dramas I've started and have yet to finish, but I'm gutted that Mrs. Maisel, Succession, and Endeavour are all ending this year (with two of them ending this week on US TV!). I'm confident they're going to end well, though (no HIMYM ending, or something similar). I watch a lot more TV and read more books than video games and movies these days!

what are you wearing right now : Midi skirt with a 90s/ditsy floral print, silk blouse, light wool cardigan, and my favorite slingback heels with minimalist jewelry. I may be on Zoom calls but I'm still working, and have a few errands to run later. At home though, probably athletic wear as I work on restyling some wigs later tonight.

piercings / tattoos? : Just one piercing in each earlobe! I don't want multiple piercings or any tattoos. Especially at my current job, they are frowned upon. I do use hair color though, mostly as my natural shade isn't that flattering on me and I'm an An Age where I need to start covering the greys. Darker hair just suits my complexion better!

glasses ? contacts? : Neither, and I'm shocked I don't need them (yet). Both of my parents wear glasses. I should get tested again, but mostly my interest is to attempt wearing contacts again for cosplay. And I hate wearing them: I will put myself through various amounts of physical discomfort for my hobby but I tend to draw the line at contacts.

last thing you ate? : Protein bar...yesterday. I do Intermittent Fasting most of the time (though it's nearly time for me to eat again!), alongside some other dietary necessities in order to try to keep myself healthy. I may not need glasses but I've got enough to deal with. I did drink plenty of water and tea so far today, however!

favorite color(s) : Blue! Sapphire blue, navy blue, sky blue...blue. My favorite color as a child was purple and my husband's favorite is green, so we appreciate a cool-toned palette in the house. Otherwise, I'm drawn to colors like burgundy, blush pink, mint, lilac, powder blue, black, white, and cool-toned tans and beiges. I tend to dislike yellows, oranges, and warm-toned browns: autumn colors, mostly. Which is funny because autumn is actually my favorite season: I'm just not a fan of the colors on me or in my home.

current obsession : A Court of Thorns and Roses/ACOTAR (and Crescent City, and Throne of Glass...SJM-verse in general) and Bridgerton, hands down. I absolutely love books and while I need to branch out and aim to start reading some Holly Black and Leigh Bardugo finally, I keep coming back to these two authors/series/fandoms (though Julia Quinn is an okayish historical romance writer. Overall, I liked other HR writers more!).

In short: talk to me about ACOTAR and Bridgerton and I will not shut up.

Otherwise, I'm into: What We Do In The Shadows (SEASON 5 SOON!), a lot of British crime and historical drama shows, mostly old anime, luxury and plus size fashion, cosplay (my main hobby outside of this blog!), skincare, having an entire bar in my house just for tea, historical/horror/romcom movies (I have a few things in common with Sonia, yes), fixing my health issues/healthy lifestyle/staying active/losing weight, cats, fashion and travel vloggers (especially if they visit Europe. it's very niche but there's a few Japanese lifestyle and travel vloggers I love because they don't spend the entire video talking and it's just...more ambiance with subtitles, I guess? Super soothing!), and traveling in general. I miss traveling so much and am slowly starting to plan my honeymoon for 2024.

do you have a crush right now? : My husband, my cat, and whenever it gets finished, the custom closet and the custom cosplay room that will be built in my house. We did my husband's new computer and video game setups first so it's my turn for house upgrades and I really need a separate closet: what came with this house only fit my husband's clothes so my wardrobe is all folded in baskets or hung on rolling racks right now and it is driving me crazy.

We've saved for the past few years in anticipation for this but it's still stressful to get a designer in to measure, chat with us about needs, get the plans approved, etc. And I still need to purge some things just for my own sanity.

No human kids, just two adults with a cat and plenty of hobbies

favorite fictional character : Rude question, how dare you. But I'll try anyway. Sybil Crawley (Downton Abbey), Nesta Archeron and Bryce Quinlan (Sarah J. Maas books/verse/etc), Penelope Featherington and Francesca Bridgerton (Bridgerton), Endeavour Morse (Inspector Morse/Endeavour), Misato Katsuragi (Evangelion), Spike Spiegel (Cowboy Bebop), Fujiko Mine (Lupin III), and Sonia Nevermind (what, did you think I'd forget her?).

That's such a small fraction of my faves but it's a mix of older and newer ones at least.

tagged by: I absolutely stole this from @dcviated for Munday purposes.

tagging: Steal it. I wish I had something witty for this but between work, replies, and getting convention ready I've got nothing.

[beauty-by-tyy]

It’s Almost Christmas Again (ft. DDSNNT Store of Amazon Wig) Unboxing & Review

Can you believe it? It’s almost Christmas again! In this video I will be unboxing and reviewing a unit that was sent to me from the DDSNNT of Amazon.

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If you are looking for a new do and want to check out, what I’m putting down, watch this video.

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***

Contact email: Babs362436@icloud.com

***

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PLEASE CLICK HERE IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THESE VIDEOS: 👇🏾👇🏾👇🏾

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It’s Almost Christmas Again (ft. DDSNNT Store of Amazon Wig) Unboxing & Review: https://youtu.be/ZfYt8sLkJA4

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Gorgeous Ginger 4C Afro (ft. Maforsoon of Amazon Natural Wig) Unboxing & Review: https://youtu.be/s_9LHh1c5RA

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This Wig is “Game On!” 22” Straight Human Hair Lace Front Wig - (ft. DDSNNT of Amazon): https://youtu.be/nu_8xbdxtBs

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Products used for this video:

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Featured Brands:

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Brand: DDSNNT Store of Amazon

Material: Highlight Ombré Human Hair

Density: 180%

Length: 24”

Texture: Straight

Hair Color: 4/27

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Nails:

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Black Press on nails

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Sally Hansen Salon Miracle Gel Top Coat

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Beauty 360 Resurface Base Coat

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Makeup:

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Face

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@Elfcosmetics Poreless Face Primer Shade: Clear

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Fenty Beauty Pro Filt’r Setting Powder Shade: Hazelnut

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Fenty Beauty Pro Filt’r Setting Powder Shade: Cashew

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Fenty Beauty Pro Filt’r Setting Powder Shade: Banana

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Fenty Beauty Pro Filt’r Hydrating Longwear Foundation Shade: 390

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Fenty Beauty Sun Stalk’r Bronzer Shade: Mocha Mami

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Milani Eye Pencil Shade: True Black

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MAC Cosmetics Studio Finish Concealer Shade: NW45

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Measurable Difference Blush Shade: Rose

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ELF Cosmetics Poreless Putty Primer

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Maybelline Master Chrome Metallic Highlighter Shade: 100 Molten Gold

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Eyes

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Fenty Beauty Sun Stalk’r Bronzer Shade: Mocha Mami

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Ioni 3D Faux Mink Lashes 100% Hand Made Style: Wispy Natural Flare

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@Lagirlcosmetics HD Pro.conceal Shade: Tawny

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ELF Cosmetics Liquid Eyeliner Shade: Jet Black

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Urban Decay 24/7 Glide-on Eye Pencil Shade: Zero

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Cheeks

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@MeasurableDifference Baked Face Blush Shade: Rose

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Lips

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Milani Lipstick Shade: 68 Matte Iconic

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Milani Lipstick Shade: 29 Teddy Bare

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