#tawny Los

[xxspellbloxedxx]

Tawny Vacuo idea! I’m in debate if I like it or not

[da-ill-spot]

Music Video: Murderdatt- Outta Sight

Vibe out to the new heat from Murderdatt on “Outta Sight.” The track was produced by Solowedo and Chef Keyz.

The video was shot by Tawny One Love, Hollow Visions and Caaturday.

[empthy1]

robinhood!tashi x sheriff'sdaughter!reader,, the tashi brainworm is crazy and consuming me day by day. i love her. young!tashi, awkward and isolated despite her determination and cunning. don't quite like the ending but whatEVER. i love describing shit!! if you couldn't already tell. 1k words.

Wanted posters were smattered across the town—that was nothing new. Petty criminals and mercenaries were always getting cycled through the jail and the gallows. With your father, the sheriff's, seemingly-unlimited supply of young, skilled boys who groveled for a chance to join his cadre, most posters were in the fire in just a week or two.

This woman, however, was a long-standing frustration for your father. Most would only catch a whip of a curling ponytail or a flash of tawny skin, their fascination with the mysterious girl overshadowed when they realized their drawers were haphazardly emptied and their jewelry boxes raided.

It drew more importance because it was the people that lined your father's pockets—weeping wealthy ladies and their indignant husbands; portly merchants passing through finding a raided tent when they returned, fine fabric jaggedly cut by a hunting knife and their wares pilfered; reports poured in from the town's upper echelon, demanding that the sheriff do something about this rampaging thief.

The worst part about it? She was getting better. There was more time between heists, sure, but she'd be more knowledgeable with the extended planning period. They'd barely catch any glimpse of her anymore. Drawers that were once thrown open were strategically chosen and emptied gracefully. Eventually, it started to look like no one had been there at all—only the disruption in the dust a clue. By the time they noticed, she was long gone.

Your father rejoiced for a period of time. A full moon cycle had gone without her striking.

Maybe she stole enough, was spread, gossip about the woman rampant like wildfire in the markets and homes. Maybe she's content with what she has.

Instead, in the deep darkness of the inner woods, she's planning to steal the village's finest jewel.

You.

The sheriff's daughter was sought after. A powerful father and a beautiful face made for suitors lining down the streets. Being accosted by marriage proposals was not pleasant, especially when they interrupted daily goings-on. You couldn't even go to the market without being halted by a passing merchant or a noble son, looking to cull your favor—and, therefore, your father's.

You take to the backroads after that. They wind through the light woods, where the grass is untouched and springy. You've started carving a small path for yourself, the leather of your boots slowly wearing down the earth to mark your trail.

You didn't know it intersected with a special someone's hunting grounds.

It's a normal Saturday when your paths cross. You're headed to the weekend market, shall around your shoulders and fine dress skimming your ankles. The fabric almost catches under your feet when you stumble back—interrupted by an arrow shooting across the path, a few feet in front of you, to pierce a grazing buck.

It's a masterful shot. You suspect it's one of your father's men hunting for their families. You're proven wrong when delicate footfalls sound—much too light to be any hunter you know.

"Hello?" Rings your uncertain voice. The footfalls pause, before a face peeks out from behind a tree. Familiar tawny skin and loose curls enters your view, thin eyes widened with curiosity.

She looks much more innocent than she does in her wanted posters. Younger, too—she doesn't look any older than you do. If you thought hard enough, you could remember a spring market with that exact face passing by, ten years younger and thin with hunger. It stuck with you, that face. You never did find out what happened to her.

Seems she's doing well for herself. Her face has a healthy flush, her cheeks fuller than you remember. She shot up like a weed, the form once curled building-side long and lithe. Her thin fingers rest on a slim birch, her eyes darting between you and her kill—the buck limp and still in the underbrush, it's velvety horns awkwardly angled and caught in a vine.

"...hello." She sounds wary. It's an appropriate response, considering who you're related to. Any other would expect you to turn tail and bolt, skirt billowing and voice high with a plead for help, like the perfect damsel.

Your eyes fall to the deer. She'd hit it right in the shoulder, the sharp arrowhead piercing through flesh to strike the heart. A perfect shot, one done from behind the animal while it skittishly fled.

"...do you need any help carrying it?" Your murmur is soft, your words unexpected. It's not yet summer, the buck not fully grown yet. It wouldn't be pleasant for her to lug back to where ever she'd made camp, but she'd surely be able to on her own.

Instead—

"Yeah. Yeah. I'd like the help."

You helped her carry the beast, strung up on a long stick, deeper and deeper into the darkening woods. The leaves crunched under your leather boots, and the plentiful chirps of birds lowered the further you travelled.

Her camp isn't sparce. There's a firepit set up, rocks surrounding the still shouldering kindling. She has a tent set up, quilted together from scraps of green—some fine squares of fabric, cut from the merchants' tents. Other pieces are tweedy and threadbare, some with buttons and others with rough seams.

Despite it, the camp has a charm to it. Her personal items (stolen possessions) are placed around the small clearing.

There's a knife at the makeshift butcher's table with a jewel in its silver hilt, sitting next to the old, yet well-sharpened butcher knife with a recently oiled wooden handle.

Through the peek in the tent, a pile of all assortment of blankets lays over her bedroll. Some are animal hide, others finely spun wool that look suspiciously like the ones traded by Mr. Abraham. He wouldn't miss the money, surely—he could fill a silo with gold and still have a fortune for his children.

Your observation is cut short, however, when she directs you towards the "butcher's table"—really a thick piece of wood balanced on two adjacent stumps. Her breath rushes out of her when the buck is finally placed on the block, back curving with relief. The motion makes a few loose curls brush her exertion-flushed cheeks.

"Where were you headed?" Her murmur is low, her voice soft and smooth. A dark gaze flickers to yours—deep, like the ash that pools from your father's cigars, but warmer, like the umber stain that dyes your carved bedframe.

"To the market. We're out of tea." It sounds so domestic, the "we" you hum. Like a companion, you hover over her shoulder, peering curiously at the buck laid over the table.

"...you should get back to that." She's awkward, not cold, her bottom lip slipping under her front teeth. Her expression is all fluttering lashes and consuming eyes, devouring you before flitting away. Her fingers tap against the wooden slab. "Unless you want to stay."

You ended up bundled around her now-roaring fire, meat and a few vegetables she found (stole) roasting on the iron grill above it. A goblet sat in your hand, half-full of some of the best wine you'd ever had—surpassing even the foreign bottle your father brought from a distant lord. It was snappy and fruity, sliding easily down your tongue and staining your lips a fine maroon.

It was strong, too, making you both laugh at the slightest thing, swapping stories back-and-forth like you were best friends at a sleepover.

"So—" she exhales a breathless giggle, laughing before she can even tell the story— "there's this knight and his squire that keep following me around whenever they can. The knight wants to join my "merry band of thieves," or whatever he called it."

That comment sparks a high laugh from both of you, echoing over the crackle of the fire. It's easy, talking to her. With the alcohol flowing through your veins and relaxing your muscles, it's easy to forget that you're meant to be mortal enemies.

Maybe if she wasn't so damn pretty.

You're sat close to her, a foot or two apart on the wide, thick log. A moment of silence fills the night air, her breath exhaling audibly.

"...I'd thought about taking their offer, no matter how unsubtle they were.

I mean... I'm by myself. Could be good to get some more hands on deck."

Even through the alcohol meddling with your brain and coaxing it into mush, you can hear the somber note to her words. She's lonely, you realize. She must be. She's on the run, isolated in the woods, with seemingly no family. A hush falls over her small camp, only broken by your words.

"Maybe I could help you with that." Your hand falls to cover hers, fingertips gliding over the warm, tawny skin before settling and curling under her palm. The wine made you bold, itching to touch and comfort the unfolding mystery before you. When your gaze flickers to hers, her eyes are pleasantly glazed with surprise.

"You'd..." Her apprehension is obvious, and warranted—you're the sheriff's daughter, the jewel of the town, the perfect wife-to-be. Most wouldn't think you'd do anything that'd dirty your frock, much less your hands and your gleaming record of virtue. Stealing? With her? It seems implausible. Yet, you remain earnest, causing her lips to tick up into a gentle smile.

"I'd like that. If you'd stay with me."

The fire slowly burns down, the near-silence comforting and only broken by small, nostalgic anecdotes. With the warmth slowly seeping from the air, the distance between your forms closes gradually until you're past even shoulder-to-shoulder. Your sides mold together, the soft wool of her tunic folding under the press of your body.

With drooping, wine-drowsy eyes, you rest your head on her shoulder. You're pressed so tightly, your brow slots against her nape. Her neck is soft. The skin smells clean and, faintly, of pine. Her chin drops to your crown, nose lazily nuzzling at the strands of your hair.

"We should rest." Her low murmur is fairly quiet, but with the silence of the woods it curls around your ears easily. Her hands are strong and calloused from her bow as she helps you from the log. Yet, they're infinitely gentle as they support your back, helping you into her tent.

She guides you down onto the mass of fabrics. You're first cradled by soft sheepskin, and then fine satin. The last dredges of daylight allow her to help you with your dress. Her fingers work the ties more efficiently than yours ever would, especially under the influence of such potent drink. They ease the fabric from your shoulders, adding it to the nest of cloths. Her tunic followed soon after.

She lies back on the bedroll with a exhale of breath, gently guiding you down next to her. Her lithe arms curl around your form, snaking robustly. The warm press of her bare skin against yours is more intoxicating than the wine. Her chin retakes its space on the crown of your head.

"Sleep." Is the last thing you hear. Her calloused hands knead and caress the bared flesh of your back, soothing the soft skin. Your joined body heat is trapped under layers of blankets, keeping the environment under the pile toasty and warm. As the weak rays of the dusk putter out, swallowed by the dark trees, your eyes fall shut as well.

Her lips press to your forehead. The leisurely, gentle drag of her lips is a promise for the morning. Her heartbeat slows to a crawl beneath your ear, the rises and falls of her chest deepening. She dozes off after you, lips pressed to your hairline and arms snug around your form.

You never did get the tea.

[katerinaaqu]

Odysseus and Menelaus

So saying he drew the mighty spear of wise-hearted Socus forth from his flesh and from his bossed shield, and when it was drawn out the blood gushed forth and distressed his spirit. But the great-souled Trojans, when they beheld the blood of Odysseus, [460] called one to another through the throng and made at him all together. But he gave ground, and shouted to his comrades; thrice shouted he then loud as a man's head can shout,1 and thrice did Menelaus, dear to Ares, hear his call, and forthwith he spake to Aias that was nigh at hand: [465] “Aias, sprung from Zeus, thou son of Telamon, captain of the host, in mine ears rang the cry of Odysseus, of the steadfast heart, like as though the Trojans had cut him off in the fierce conflict and were over-powering him alone as he is. Nay, come, let us make our way through the throng; to bear him aid is the better course. [470] I fear lest some evil befall him, alone mid the Trojans, valiant though he be, and great longing for him come upon the Danaans.” So saying he led the way, and Aias followed, a godlike man. Then found they Odysseus, dear to Zeus and round about the Trojans beset him, as tawny jackals in the mountains [475] about a horned stag that hath been wounded, that a man hath smitten with an arrow from the string; from him the stag hath escaped and fleeth swiftly so long as the blood flows warm and his knees are quick, but when at length the swift arrow overpowereth him, then ravening jackals rend him amid the mountains [480] in a shadowy grove; but lo, God bringeth against them a murderous lion, and the jackals scatter in flight, and he rendeth the prey: even so then did the Trojans, many and valiant, beset Odysseus round about, the wise and crafty-minded; but the warrior darting forth with his spear warded off the pitiless day of doom. [485] Then Aias drew near, bearing his shield that was like a city wall, and stood forth beside him, and the Trojans scattered in flight, one here, one there. And warlike Menelaus led Odysseus forth from the throng, holding him by the hand, till his squire drave up the horses and car. Hom.Il. 11.456-488

This is probably one of my favorite moments in Iliad for it shows the brutality of war and at the same time the power of comrades and forgetting one's differences.

For starters I love the fact that it shows how strong Odysseus is in battle. Modern media tend to picture him as a generally not as good warrior that has to get down to tricks to win the battle but that is far from it as in Rhapsody 11 he is seen wounded by a spear in the stomach and fighting off around 20 Trojans by himself and holding on pretty well against them. At the same time though shows the difference between Odysseus and other characters. Odysseus is not stupid. He knows his limits and he knows he won't hold out forever so the way he yells three times for ANYONE to hear him and send assistance shows the desperation of the situation

And Menelaus is the one to hear his cry and actually call for the most powerful warrior in their army to come to his assistance and he clearly states that if they lose Odysseus then things would be tough for them. He recognizes both his strength and his value in the war. He knows that people like Odysseus are irreplacable and the way he actually helps him off the battlefield by supporting him is literally one of my favorite moments! The way we also see that he later on is one of those who speaks with the most outmost warmth for Odysseus and names him as his dearest friend and comrade when he speaks of him to Telemachus (Even Aias who is not particularly fond of Odysseus and vice versa, forgets his personal grudge and rushes to his assistance)

I think that the friendship between Menelaus and Odysseus is not talked much (obscured maybe by the scenes between Odysseus and Diomedes and for good reason maybe) and I think it is a shame. And it is another reason why I loved art such as @thehelplessmortals depicting some tender moments between Menelaus and Odysseus. And also this is another reason why I made them interract in my fanfiction Guilt given that Menelaus is probably the one who appreciates more than many the capabilities Odysseus has; both his brain and mind and his battle abilities

[nyan-nyax3]

˚₊‧ hatsukoisou id pack ☆

names ꒱

abel, adam, ambrose, amos, archer, astor, august, baker, barclay, basil, bishop, caden, camden, cecil, cody, cosmo, cyrus, davey, declan, denzel, devon, dion, eddy, eli, esme, everett, forrest, fraser, grayson, harry, jackson, jasper, joel, joseph, layton, leon, liam, louis, lucian, merlin, milo, monty, nicky, peter, porter, rolo, samuel, silas, sterling, teddy, tommy, virgil, woody

addy, alice, allie, amber, angel, april, ashley, asia, autumn, avril, azura, bambi, barbie, becca, bella, birdie, bunny, callie, cammie, camryn, candi, chelsey, christi, cleo, coral, crystal, cyndi, dahlia, daisy, demi, diamond, dixie, dolly, ella, erin, ethel, flower, ginger, halo, hazel, heather, iris, keira, kestrel, lilac, lily, lola, lotus, lucille, lulu, marie, meadow, mercy, mia, misty, molly, mona, noelle, nova, olive, opal, petal, poppy, princess, promise, rosy, roxy, spirit, tempest, topaz, velvet, violet

alex, ashton, aspen, azure, billie, blessing, bobbie, brandy, bronte, cedar, celeste, charlie, cherish, clover, cyan, dannie, denver, dusty, easter, eden, favour, fortune, francis, frankie, harper, haven, heaven, ivy, jackie, jewel, joey, jordyn, journey, july, kasey, lacey, laverne, lennon, lucky, lyric, maple, navy, oakley, ocean, palmer, pepper, phoenix, raven, riley, river, ronnie, rory, royal, sawyer, silver, sparrow, sunday, tawny, windsor

pronouns ꒱

ae / aer, shi / hir, vae / vaer

abandon / abandonment, addi / addict, alco / alcohol, bla / black, bri / bright, dea / death, dre / dream, drink / drinking, entrap / entrapment, fal / falsity, first / love, flo / flower, free / freedom, fuzz / fuzzy, ha / harm, hatsu / hatsukoisou, ho / hopeless, lie / lies, lo / love, mise / misery, ne / neon, pai / pain, pi / pills, pi / pink, pro / problems, pro / prostitute, pur / purple, red / light, re / regret, sui / cide, trouble / troublesome, wish / wishful

titles ꒱꒱

[x] who turned to a life on the streets, [x] with regret in [x] heart, [x] with rotting organs, [x] who forces a bottle into [x] mouth, [x] who wishes to share [x] secret with you, the neon-lit street walker, [x] who walks into death's arms, [x] who misses [x] first love, the incarnation of the addiction of one's first love

genders ꒱꒱

alcohollexic, alcoholpathetic, anoure, cheraic, dasamerz, decayedgender, hotpinkpoisic, inviheartpillgender, inviibuprofen, liquorlexic, medimasc, pillcoric, vodkalexic, whiskeyaromic, winething

usernames ꒱꒱

pinkxprincess, drunkenmistake, b4relysurviving, wishfordeath, cy4nide-c4psule, alcoholickitten, miheadfuzzy, forevertr4sh, negativelove, falsewish, troubledxkitty, hatsu__love, selfharmstyle, meow_in_misery, fallenkitty, cutieincarnate, moemoecyanide

system names ꒱꒱

the poisoned kittens, drunken collective, those living in misery, the less than likely survival collective, slicer system, those who stopped fighting, the burnt love letters of a by-gone time, those who pass out in the street, the unfixable collective, those who were manipulated into a worse life

whoag ,, super cool id pack for a song i like =^-^= could u hav seen that one coming ???? lolz

[shy-nightmare]

The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths

Chapter Seven: Judge Doom and the Toon Patrol

Summary: Eddie Valiant and Twisted Twyla Toonz meet Judge Doom, the sole jurist of Toontown, and his law enforcement group called the Toon Patrol. Twyla learns that they’re here to investigate, but they’re working on the other side of the law.

Credit for inspiration goes to @imaginarytoon1, author of “The Birchwood Twins: Toontown Investigators” and @its-metal-mistress, author of “Bendy and the Ink Machine: Learning How to Live”. Please check out their own wonderful content ^^!

Special Guests Tags 😊: @marinerainbow, @slashingdisneypasta, @weaselnerd and @lastofautumn

WARNING: This chapter contains unlawful Toon execution, abuse of jurisdiction and authority, death of an innocent Toon shoe, Doom being an absolute terror, and a certain green zoot weasel trying to put the moves on Twyla

“Is this man removing evidence from the scene of a crime?” the man asked Twyla sharply. His voice was harsh like graphite, whetted sharp enough to cut leather.

Thankfully, Santino came to her rescue. “Uh, no, Judge Doom. Valiant here was just picking it up for you.” He pulled Eddie up, “Weren’t you, Eddie?”

The man, Judge Doom, extended his gloved hand. “Hand it over.”

“Sure,” Eddie said, taking the buzzer and slammed it on Doom’s hand, making the pale man shake and convulse from the effects. Twyla raised a brow; humans don’t shake exaggeratedly like that when they get shocked. Eddie took his hand away and smiled, “His number-one seller.”

Doom returned his smile, but it sent chills down Twyla’s spine. His smile was ominous and foreboding. Good thing she was in control of her composure, otherwise her tail would’ve frozen off. “I see working for a Toon has rubbed off on you.”

“I wasn’t working for a Toon,” Eddie replied harshly, “I was working for R.K. Maroon.”

“Yes, we talked to Mr. Maroon,” Doom agreed, “He told us he became quite agitated when you showed him the pictures. The rabbit said that one way or another, he and his wife were going to be happy. Is that true?”

“Hey, pal. Do I look like a stenographer?”

Eddie, I swear to God, Twyla rubbed her temple.

“Shut your yap, Eddie. The man’s a judge.” Santino said.

“That’s all right, Lieutenant. From the smell of him, I would say it was the booze talking,” he lightly sneered at the smaller man. “No matter, the rabbit won’t get far. My men will find him.”

Men? Twyla’s rose her brow.

As if on cue, the doors burst open with the blaring sound of a siren. A black 1937 Dodge Humpback panel truck, otherwise known as a paddy wagon, drove into the factory, nearly running the officers over. Twyla dodged it before it could hit her and ran her claws across the stone ground to ease her pose. The car swerved to the side and knocked a few boxes over. Twyla read the logo on the side of the car.

City of Los Angeles Toon Patrol.     

“‘Toon Patrol’?” she read, feeling uneasy.

“You all right, Twyla?” Eddie called out.

She responded with a thumbs-up and dusted off her suit.

“Weasels?” Eddie exclaimed.

“Yes. I find they have a special gift for the work.” Judge Doom answered.

“All right, you mugs! Fall out!” a familiar old-style Brooklyn voice barked.

Twyla’s eyes widened. It’s that voice from last night!

Five Toon weasels stepped out of the car. The first one, obviously the leader, was a lean mean-looking bastard. Like James Cagney kind of mean. He had tawny brown fur and tangerine painting his ears, muzzle and neck, palms and underbelly with a long scruffy tail tipped with black streaks. Although he was slender, his muscles were firm and solid and between proud, broad shoulders displayed a wide, masculine chest. His style of choice consisted of a light pink double-breasted James Cagney zoot suit sewn with four gold bronze buttons, and a matching fedora branded with a hot pink band. He also wore a hot pink bejeweled tie over a crisp white dress shirt and white spats adorned his clawed feet in an attempt to make him appear classy and sophisticated. A shining gold chain hung from his left breast pocket, matching the glint of his sharp golden eyes. His very presence sent an unpleasant shiver down her spine.

The second weasel, obviously the second-in-command, stood a head taller and almost towered over the whole group. He must have been some sort of Spanish descent. His eyes and fur were dark chocolate, accented with light mocha warming his ears and muzzle. Oiled black hair curled above his nape, slicked with greasy flamboyance. Unlike Cagney Weasel, whose muscle was apparent behind a lean form, the Latino weasel’s form was slender with a bit of a pot belly, though it looked natural and well in proportion to his size. He wore a zoot suit, too, referenceable to the Zoot Suit Riots. He was shrouded in a jade green trench coat trimmed with black lapels and baggy sleeve cuffs, high-waisted pants hiked up to his chest held with a narrow black belt and his head was hatted with a wide-brimmed fedora that matched his suit’s color. His fashion style was complimented with a white dress shirt and a hot-pink tie that stood out from his attire, and he wore pointed spectator shoes. Behind him, a long furry tail swayed, coated in ink and dark chocolate. His clawed hands tucked in his pockets as he followed his boss in a suave, near serpentlike saunter. Twyla took a whiff and recognized the strong, heavy cologne.

Standing on the leader’s left was a tall, scrawny weasel skinny as a pencil. His arms were long and spare, but hard like stone. And they were packed with steely muscle. Unlike the pack, his fur was an ashy blue streaked with light blue and just reeked of cigarette smoke permeating his body all the way down to his unkempt tail. He wore a stained bowler hat, dress shirt with half-rolled sleeves, an undone black tie and an open black vest, decorated with cigarettes. Cigarettes, some fresh and some old, poked out from his lips, and he hacked, revealing rotten yellowed fangs. He left a massive, nasty cloud of smoke in his wake, and blinked against the smoke as if he didn’t care about the toxic plume burning his bloodshot cobalt eyes.

Jesus, it’s like looking at a walking roadkill that died from smoking, Twyla’s little nose twitched in concealed disgust.

The fourth weasel was small, scrawny, and kind of cute. He had caramel fur with a light tan muzzle and spiked hair like he had a headful of porcupine quills sharp, untamable and serrated without mercy, and his tail lashed out like a barbed whip. His vibrant blue eyes were wide and maniacal, yellow swirls wildly dancing around his pupils with demented glee. He only wore a straitjacket with open restraints, and large baggy sleeves covered his paws. The looney-looking weasel’s lips pulled into a creepy, yet derpy smile adorned with small razor-sharp fangs that can probably tear off your fucking face and chew on your cranium flesh. But still, he was kind of cute.

And the last of the boogle, who looked more like a potato than a weasel, was just absolutely adorable. No seriously, he was so damn cute! His fur was scrumptious gingerbread, though his apricot-painted snout wasn’t lean and a single fang popped out. Soft, fluffy gingerbread warmed his thick, meaty arms dominated with comically concealed muscle. He only wore a blue and white striped T-shirt which barely fit his teddy bear gut, and a red beanie decorated with a yellow propeller. His blue tennis shoes were untied on both feet, and he nearly tumbled over his tail layered in a coat of massive fluff. He held up a large baseball bat dented with a sharp nail. His hazel eyes shone bright with pure innocence, presenting him as more childlike than ignorant.

It was like looking at a McDonald’s chicken nugget that can bash your skull with a baseball bat. And only one thought came across Twyla’s mind upon seeing this adorable walking teddy bear.

She internally gasped.

BABY!!!!!! Twyla’s eyes sparkled as she took him in her sights, unable to hold back from digging out her phone and taking quick pictures of him.

“Did you find the rabbit?” Judge Doom called out.

“Don’t worry, Judge! We got ‘deformants’ all over tha’ city! We’ll find him.” the leader said, his lips pulled in an evil glimmering grin.

Don’t you mean ‘informants’? Twyla mentally corrected him, digging down her purse to pull out a black Cigaronne case.

“You there!” Judge Doom called out.

The female hybrid nearly dropped her tin. Then, she raised a brow and pointed at herself.

“Yes, you. Do you have any idea where the rabbit might be?”

Her gut on Roger was still strong, so she gently shook her head with a silent, feigned apology. She heard the Hispanic weasel in the jade-colored suit chuckle.

“Not much of a talker, is she, Boss?” he smirked. His voice was low and husky like bourbon-soaked velvet and sinister as poison-kissed knives with a strong Puerto Rican accent.

Twyla went back to her own business and pulled out a long sleek black cigarette. She placed it on her soft lips and reached down her pocket to grab a lighter.

“It would be a damn shame if the flames of a fire burnt the petals of a flower as beautiful and delicate as you~”

Startled, Twyla nearly jumped and whirled around. Only to see the green-clad gangster standing a bit too close to her comfort. He held his hands up nonchalantly.

“Heh-heh. Lo siento, hermosa. No quise asustarte.” He apologized.

Twyla raised a brow, tilting her head confusedly. She didn’t understand Spanish very well.

“He said,” the blue weasel stepped in, his voice hoarse and scratchy and hacking up a fit of smoke. “He didn’t mean to startle you.” 

She glanced at the Spaniard, then gave him a slow, grateful nod.

Then, the pink mobster shoved the two out of the way. “Lemme talk to tha’ broad.” He barked harshly and lit up a cigar. He faced Twyla, “What are you doin’ here anyway? And where are ya from? You dress funny.”

The taller Toon rose a brow, giving him the once-over. Says the guy dressed up in a fuckin’ pink zoot suit, she thought while addressing his attire with her eyes.

He didn’t probably like what she was gesturing at and blew a ring of smoke in her face. “Ain’t you gonna ‘slay’ somethin’? It’s rude ta’ ignore your superiors.”

Superiors? Oh, you wanna do this now? Bet. Twyla opened the lid of her diamond skull-encrusted lighter and ignited a small flame, creating a thin silver smoke. She took a soft inhale…and blew out a large puff of black smoke shaped like a skull at the three weasels.

They coughed against the plume heavily, and even the blue weasel who probably smokes his packs religiously, swatted off the smoke. “What da hell was that for?!” the Brooklyn weasel snapped, coughing.

Dominance and personal space, asshole, Twyla smirked and walked off towards the humans. She stopped when she heard a red-and-white Toon clown shoe squeaking. The little guy was snuggling against Doom’s shoe, as if he were looking up to him for protection. Twyla’s heart froze with a newfound sense of dread and fear for the shoe.

“Since I’ve had Toontown under my jurisdiction, my goal has been to rein in the insanity.” Doom explained, putting on a rubber glove. “And the only way to do that is to make Toons respect the law.”

Insanity? Twyla visibly flinched. Make Toons respect the law? 

Doom picked up the shoe, shaking his head before he walked over to the back of the Toon Patrol vehicle.

“How did that gargoyle get to be a judge?” Eddie whispered to Santino.

“Spread a bunch of simoleons around Toontown a couple of years back. Bought the election,” Santino replied.

“Yeah?” Eddie motioned to a large barrel in the backseat. “What’s that?”

Twyla watched Doom open the lid…and what she saw next made her fur stiffen. Green boiling liquid. Is that…Dip?

Her eyes darted back to the judge. Wait…no.

Oh God, please no.

“Remember how we always thought that there wasn’t a way to kill a Toon?” Santino asked, trying to keep his voice hushed but Twyla’s ears never failed her. “Well, Doom found a way. Turpentine, acetone, benzene. He calls it the Dip!”

The Lieutenant noticed Twyla and silently jerked his head back, as if he were motioning for her to get behind him. Unbeknownst to her, the Latino weasel had been standing next to her with a flirtatious grin. But his smile faltered when Santino caught Twyla’s attention, and he growled at the human official.

Twyla caught up with Santino and he gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Ma’am, you might want to look away. And cover your ears.”

Oh God, she mentally whimpered as she did so. Santino shielded her, as if he were trying to protect her from the impending horror.

“I’ll catch the rabbit, Mr. Valiant.” Judge Doom spoke. “Then, I’ll try him, convict him…and execute him.”

Twyla pressed her palms hard against her eardrums as relentlessly as she could to muffle the shoe’s screams. But it wasn’t enough. She could feel the shoe’s excruciating pain as he was slowly dissolved, and her heart sobbed for his tragic end. Every nerve of her body winced and tensed as the shoe’s painful screams echoed the walls, haunting her to the core. It was agonizing, so painfully and unbelievably agonizing she felt herself dying with him. Eddie watched the horrific death with eyes shot wide and jaw-slacked frozen terror.

The silence was deafening, save for psychotic giggling. Doom lifted his gloved hand dripping with red blood of the shoe.

“That’s one dead shoe, eh, Boss?” the weasel in the jade zoot suit chuckled.

“They’re not kid gloves, Mr. Valiant,” the tall, dark-clad bastard smiled with a toothlike grin. “This is how we handle things down in Toontown. I’d think that you of all people would appreciate that.” He flexed his fingers, rubbing the leather as he were flexing his knuckles.

I’d think you’d appreciate the last moments of your life before I’m done with you, Twyla’s blood boiled with red-hot rage and vengeful murder as black as the void. She’s going to kill him. She’s going to KILL him!

The horror Toon rubbed her temple, inhaling as much nicotine as she could to sate her rage. But she had to leave now, before she loses control and destroys the goddamn factory with everyone in it.

However, the head weasel somehow got a hold of the rubber glove used for the execution and thought it would be really fucking hilarious to torment her even more. He slowly walked towards Twyla, curling his lips in a sadistic bloodcurdling grin. “And just where do ya think you’re goin’?” he snickered.

Twyla’s fist clenched. Her fangs pinched her gums.

“Hey! Lay off, will ya?!” Eddie barked.

“Sergeant, no!” Santino shouted, but his voice fell deaf on the pink-clad weasel’s ears. He continued his stagger, and each step only intensified Twyla’s wrath.

“Well? Ain’t you gonna answer me, broad?” he sneered.

The chain just fucking snapped.

Twyla whirled around, nearly hitting him with her whip-like locks. She bared her lips in a dark, resonant growl, and revealed rows of fearsome fangs as she lifted her right hand, extending massive claws far sharper than any blade in the world. And she swung down.

Slash.

The little bastard watched the fingers slip off the rubber glove with wide, shocked eyes before he resolved and tried to pull a move—

And then Twyla punched him in the face.

Everyone else watched him fly across the factory until he crashed onto three giant wooden crates containing other Toon shoes, and they all burst out of the cage and ran around the warehouse like pieces of splintered wood. Laughter erupted clamorously, even the other four weasels as they watched him break through the debris, his eyes swirling with dizziness as he coughed from the dust.

Twyla stormed out of the Acme Factory, growling curses under her breath as she smoked heavily. That little fucker!

“Still in shock?” Santino asked from her right, breaking her out of her furious trance.

“Oh, gee, I don’t know,” she snarled sarcastically. “What the hell do you think?!”

“So you do talk,” he replied incredulously.

Twyla gaped at him indignantly. “What is this, a shock to everyone? Of course I can talk! I’m like fuckin’ Wile E. Coyote in Operation Rabbit!”

Santino took pity in the young lady’s state. “Look, ma’am, I understand your case, but you need to be careful. That’s the leader of Toontown’s highest police department.”

“Fuck.” Twyla cursed, crunching her cigarette.

“Um, ah, call me if you need anything, Eddie.” Santino glanced at her boss nervously. Then his eyes steeled, “Stay out of trouble this time.”

“Can’t make no promises.”

Just as they were about to part ways, the Dodge drove up and immediately stopped near Twyla’s right. The window rolled, and the driver was the Hispanic weasel.

“Don’t mind the boss, querida.” He purred. “He thinks that business comes before pleasure, like yourself. Well, adios! We shall see each other again…” he reached out and gently grabbed her hand before giving a kiss. “…real soon.” He winked at her, rolled up the window and drove away.

Twyla watched the car, then looked at her hand. Dumbstruck. “What just happened?”

“Well, he’s got eyes on you.” Eddie remarked.

A long awkward silence was broken by a chirping Toon cricket. Two pairs of eyes stared at the smaller man.

“What?”      

[fio-of-the-fae-realm]

Car Troubles, Madam?

Sit down and buckle up, if you dare- this is the story of the worst math teacher I’d ever had.

Picture the scene. It’s high school. I had just gone through a breakup that had left me desolate and insecure. My home life was deteriorating for separate reasons. Basically, my life was kind of in shambles.

And then this woman entered it.

For decency’s sake and that alone, I will not give her true name. But if she reads this, she’ll know it’s about her. For now, we’ll call her Satan.

Now, Satan was a Geometry teacher, which should have been a red flag from the very start. And yet, I was determined that this- this would finally be the year in which I got along with my math teacher. After all, she couldn’t be any worse than my Algebra teacher. Right?

Wrong.

She had committed many sins that set her apart from math teachers of past years, but this story is about the time she truly went above and beyond to make herself known as Satan.

Now, the car ride to school that day was not a delicate one. As I was driving, I saw the limp form of a dog- a soft-looking, tawny pitbull mix- laying on the side of the road. It was still. Regardless, I had to stop and check on it to make sure. After seeing that the dog was gone, I cried on the drive to school. How could anyone be so cruel as to kill a dog and leave it there? Dogs are precious to humanity! Needless to say, I was already in a bit of a mood by the time I arrived.

Then, as I walk into the classroom, I hear Satan talking with another teacher. Being a nosy sort, I can catch the conversation from my desk.

“Yeah, my car insurance company is being really annoying about it…I mean, that dog got in the way of my car! Can’t believe…costing me so much…”

My jaw dropped. Her. No way. I must have misheard her. My Geometry teacher could not be the same person I’d mentally condemned to a thousand hells on that turbulent drive to school. I told myself I must be incorrect, then got back to my work. Satan walks into class, late. A student asks why. And lo and behold, this woman says “Oh, yeah, a dog got in the way of my car on the way to school this morning…I had to sort things out with insurance. It totally messed up my car.” The class was silent for a moment. Now, listen, 14-16 year olds are not known for their sense of right and wrong, but every person in that class knew that what she was saying was deeply fucked up.

A brave soul spoke up. “Is…it okay?” he asked, uncharacteristically timid.

“Yeah, I guess,” Satan responded. “Really expensive, though. Apparently my insurance doesn’t cover-“ She spoke as though it was the dog’s fault.

“No, I…I meant, is the dog okay?” the brave soul clarified, flabbergasted. Satan snorted with derision.

“No?”

We lapsed back into a sort of shocked silence. Ah, poor Satan and her insurance. Nevermind the innocent dog she’d run over.*

My ex-math teacher, assorted beings.

*During her story, she clarified where the incident had taken place- sure enough, same road where we found the dog’s body.

[holly-natnicole]

[Image Description: Leo Valdez from 'the Heroes of Olympus' (2010) and 'the Trials of Apollo' (2016). A Mexican dyadic cisgender boy who is 15-17 years old. He has tawny skin, dark brown eyes, and dark brown hair. His face is round, his eyes are narrow, and his very short hair consists of 3A curls. Leo is sitting on the non-existent floor, a white sign held down in front of him. The sign has in red text: '¡DESCANCE EM PAZ!' He wears orange trainers which have straps instead of shoelaces, white socks, and a black outfit with 6 white rib bones, 2 medium pink roses, and a white fancy shirt collar thing.]

(Sorry for the low quality of the digital drawing!! Día de los Muertos isn't yet, so I'll try to get an average quality digital drawing of Leo celebrating done by the time 2nd November 2024 rolls around.)

[rockislandadultreads]

Happy National Hispanic Heritage Month!

Mango, Mambo, and Murder by Raquel V. Reyes

Food anthropologist Miriam Quiñones-Smith's move from New York to Coral Shores, Miami, puts her academic career on hold to stay at home with her young son. Adding to her funk is an opinionated mother-in-law and a husband rekindling a friendship with his ex. Gracias to her best friend, Alma, she gets a short-term job as a Caribbean cooking expert on a Spanish-language morning TV show. But when the newly minted star attends a Women's Club luncheon, a socialite sitting at her table suddenly falls face-first into the chicken salad, never to nibble again.

When a second woman dies soon after, suspicions coalesce around a controversial Cuban herbalist, Dr. Fuentes - especially after the morning show's host collapses while interviewing him. Detective Pullman is not happy to find Miriam at every turn. After he catches her breaking into the doctor's apothecary, he enlists her help as eyes and ears to the places he can't access, namely the Spanish-speaking community and the tawny Coral Shores social scene.

As the ingredients to the deadly scheme begin blending together, Miriam is on the verge of learning how and why the women died. But her snooping may turn out to be a recipe for her own murder.

This is the first volume of the "A Caribbean Kitchen Mystery" series.

Our Share of Night by Mariana Enríquez

A young father and son set out on a road trip, devastated by the death of the wife and mother they both loved. United in grief, the pair travel to her ancestral home, where they must confront the terrifying legacy she has bequeathed: a family called the Order that commits unspeakable acts in search of immortality.

For Gaspar, the son, this maniacal cult is his destiny. As the Order tries to pull him into their evil, he and his father take flight, attempting to outrun a powerful clan that will do anything to ensure its own survival. But how far will Gaspar’s father go to protect his child? And can anyone escape their fate?

Moving back and forth in time, from London in the swinging 1960s to the brutal years of Argentina’s military dictatorship and its turbulent aftermath, Our Share of Night is a novel like no other: a family story, a ghost story, a story of the occult and the supernatural, a book about the complexities of love and longing with queer subplots and themes.

The Haunting of Alejandra by V. Castro

Alejandra no longer knows who she is. To her husband, she is a wife, and to her children, a mother. To her own adoptive mother, she is a daughter. But they cannot see who Alejandra has become: a woman struggling with a darkness that threatens to consume her. Nor can they see what Alejandra sees. In times of despair, a ghostly vision appears to her, the apparition of a crying woman in a ragged white gown.

When Alejandra visits a therapist, she begins exploring her family’s history, starting with the biological mother she never knew. As she goes deeper into the lives of the women in her family, she learns that heartbreak and tragedy are not the only things she has in common with her ancestors.

Because the crying woman was with them, too. She is La Llorona, the vengeful and murderous mother of Mexican legend. And she will not leave until Alejandra follows her mother, her grandmother, and all the women who came before her into the darkness. But Alejandra has inherited more than just pain. She has inherited the strength and the courage of her foremothers—and she will have to summon everything they have given her to banish La Llorona forever.

Vanishing Maps by Cristina García

Celia del Pino, the matriarch of a far-flung Cuban family, has watched her descendants spread out across the globe, struggling to make sense of their transnational identities and strained relationships with one another. In Berlin, the charismatic yet troubled Ivanito performs on stage as his drag queen persona, while being haunted by the ghost of his mother. Pilar Puente, adrift in Los Angeles, is a struggling sculptor and the single mother of a young son. In Moscow, Ivanito’s cousin Irina has become the wealthy owner of a lingerie company, but she remains deeply lonely in the wake of her parents’ deaths and her estrangement from her Cuban heritage. Meanwhile, in Havana, Celia prepares to reunite with her lost lover, Gustavo, and wonders whether age and the decades spent apart have altered their bond.

Cut off from their Cuban roots, yet still feeling the island’s ineluctable pull, Ivanito and his extended family try to reimagine where - and with whom - they belong. Over the course of a momentous year, each will grapple with their histories as they are pulled to Berlin for a final, explosive reunion.

[ratritz]

Winter Wonderland

Icing sugar twilight Dust sparkled ground Dawn chorus debuts Blackbird, Robin, Wren sound

Reynard lopes along Flaming fleet in dark Frosty footpads declare Too cold for this lark

No flittermice afloat Home hanging safe, snug Hibernal hiding, frozen Awaiting Winters shrug

Yet lo!

Old owlish awe drifts down Glides dreamlike into sight Great feathered flake alights Bursts me with delight!

Hoots to me a warning ‘Freeze! Statue-like, alright’ Flight swift, snowy, silent Tawny melts once more to night

Sol floods horizon Beams of cool wrath Bejewelled trees tinselled Twinkling grass and path

Nutkin brisk bright eyed Bushy bounds iced blades Bobs silver shivered greeting Skates away to shades

Blue Tit, Thrush, Sparrow Frenzy! Flurry! Alarm! Felix! Felix! Flee! Fly! Klaxons end the calm

Engines set a-growl Crystal solitude shattered Crisp voices biting chill Wild friends scattered

Nature’s show sublime Performers disengage Players surrender spotlight Humans invade stage

Thankful once again Private privilege I’ve found Perfect Winter Wonderland When other humans aren’t around

[thethistlegirlwrites]

Name: Sierra Aguirre (legally changed her name to Aguirre-Stoker when she found out who her birth father was) Species: Human Age: 24 Powers: None, but she's agile and good with a variety of weapons, as well as being a highly skilled pursuit driver. Physical description: She's 5'7, petite but not fragile. She's got dark brown hair, usually braided or pulled back in a bun, and at the time of the story has one side shaved and growing back from where she had to have stitches put in after a fight with a vampire. She has dark brown eyes and tawny skin, and a thick rippled scar on the outside of one forearm where she burned it on an engine block working on a car. Her nails are always cut short and her fingers have permanently ground in grease and oil. Personality: Snarky, aggressive, and driven. She's got a chip on her shoulder and a family name to live up to. Background: Sierra grew up in Amarillo, Texas with a single mom who was an underground street racer in her spare time, and has been working on cars since she was old enough to hold a wrench, and driving them since she could reach the pedals. She was going to her local community college to become a mechanic when she found some of her father's journals, and learned that he wasn't killed in a car accident like her mother always told her, but had been part of a vampire hunter agency and was killed on an operation. After learning the truth about her father, Sierra started researching the secret underworld of vampires and hunters and eventually joined a rogue vigilante hunter group, looking to rid the world of what she felt were the monsters that took her father from her. After she was captured by the members of a real, legal hunter agency, Sierra was offered a choice, help them bring down the vigilantes and get a second chance, and an offer to join the agency and do things the right way, or get sent to an off the books prison. She chose to help, and joined her father's old agency in the aftermath, although after initial training she transferred to the Los Angeles "Chimera" agency, where her uncle John Stoker was working with a team. After her training probationary period, she was partnered with Pete Jemison, a forensic accountant, and they work together taking down a variety of vampire-related illegal businesses. Other: She has a 1967 Chevy Camaro retrofitted as a hunter patrol car. It's got a holding compartment in the back seats to transport a vampire prisoner (which isn't a great fit for Shane but he's going to have to deal) and it's painted silver with dark blue pinstripe details that make the front look like a stylized wolf's head. She's nicknamed it 'Lobo'.

Taglist:

@nade2308 @catwingsathena @the-one-and-only-valkyrie @telltaleclerk @floh673

[xxspellbloxedxx]

Red or White? 🤍♥️

[untilthenextencore]

Of Hopes & High Grace Pt. 1: Clearly: Up in the Canyons~...

~

~

Laurel Canyon, 1965~

Walking up the driveway into the house, from his tour around the grounds by the house's owner, Jimmy let his eyes scan the room. Turning left, he saw his date for the evening Jackie sitting in the pit - a sunken floor & seating area - chatting with one of their friends. He had come to the party with her that day. Jackie had been something of a regular or semi-regular presence in his life. They'd been on & off for a few months since working together both on her music, songs for others like Marianne Faithfull, or even his own attempts at solo work. Though the less said about that single, the better he figured now.

Turning right & taking a sip of his drink as he tried to clear that from his mind, he saw a bunch of kids dancing in the center of the living room. They weren't really kids, actually. Most looked about his age from what he could tell. They twisted & moved in front of large double glass doors that looked out on quite a view of the city below. The setting sun streamed in through the windows, starbursting over the dancing kids. One in particular caught his eye.

She was in a slim fitting sheath dress with a scoop neckline & a mottled shimmery watery blue & lagoon green print. The dress skimmed what he could surmise was a very alluring figure. Long dark hair flowing loose around her shoulders, tawny skin, a hint of cat's eye eyeliner framing two deep brown eyes. Full rosy cheeks. Even fuller berry rose lips. She laughed & clapped & spun about with an older male friend as the guitar in the song trilled.

Try as he might, Jimmy couldn't tear his eyes from her. She was lively. Spirited. Drop dead gorgeous. He simply had to get her name.

Nudging his host for the evening, he motioned to the dark sylph dressed in siren's blue & asked. "Who's she, mate?"

His host Tony turned to peer in her direction before smiling. "Ah, her? That's Mariella. She lives up here. Bought a house on Appian Way not too long ago. Made a few papers. Rather young for being a homeowner, she. Teenage homeowner. You know how papers eat that stuff up."

Jimmy nodded at that. He knew all too well. So she was a teenager, was she?

Tony explained further. "But she's more known for her music."

"Sings, does she?" Jimmy asked with a sip of his drink.

"Like an angel!" Tony nodded. "Though she sings mostly in Spanish. Mexican music & the like. Her father is a singer, too. A famous one in his field. Carlos Ignacio Alamilla. She sometimes used to tour with him. Now she goes between performances with him & her own local club gigs."

"I see..." Jimmy nodded, mulling over the many ways their similar lines of work might give him an in with her. "Mind introducing me then?"

To his surprise, Tony laughed.

"What's so funny?" Jimmy asked, half annoyed, half confused.

"Nothing. Except I feel I must warn you. You being new here & all you probably don't know. She's not too forthcoming with new people. Her father is extremely protective of her, with her being his only daughter. And even if you get past him, there's no promise you'll get anywhere with her. The running joke is that while most everyone's first word was "mama," hers was likely "no."

Jimmy snorted.

"It's true. Not to say she's mean. Just very careful in meeting new people. Wary even. Once you get to know her... If you get to know her... Once you get close... If you get close... You'll find she's a delight... Sweet girl... Just very shy I guess... Impossible not to love her, that one..."

"I see..." Jimmy breathed those words in a dragon's puff of cigarette smoke.

A delight...

Sweet girl...

Shy girl...

Indeed...

What's not to love?...

Jimmy contemplated everything he was told with another puff of his cigarette before asking it & announcing with a wry grin in yet another dragon's puff. "Well, now I have to meet her now don't I?"

"Alright." Tony drawled, placing a hand on Jimmy's shoulder. Don't say I didn't warn you. And don't be surprised if she's not as forthcoming with you. It takes her awhile to warm up." With that he led the way as he & Jimmy weaved their way through the crowd.

Each undulating body seemed to serve as a fluttering curtain. A momentary eclipse. All of it making it so as they neared Jimmy saw her move in sections. In snapshots. Rotoscope images that burned & swirled in his brain, searing themselves into the grey matter. Each fleeting glimpse only serving to intrigue & tantalize him more. The time it took for them to cross the few feet's distance they had to traverse, feeling like one long scene in slow motion. The music falling into silence. The silence cut only by the sound of his blood thumping in his temples. His heartbeat pounding like a drum of war.

Jimmy's mouth went suddenly dry. He swallowed hard. He could be wrong but he swore that lump he felt in his throat, if it wasn't his Adam's apple, might've been heart-shaped.

Just then, Tony's voice cut into his train of thought, slicing through the thumping silence. "Hey, Mariella."

Black hair fanned out as she whirled to face them cutting her dance short, before coming to rest framing her face as she turned.

Lovely face, Jimmy thought.

A look of confusion crossed her features before her eyes lit up in recognition. "Tony! There you are! I was wondering where you had gone off to!" She spoke in a bright voice colored with an indeterminate accent. "I knew you were here but I didn't see you. How are you?" She asked with a hug.

Perhaps, this would be easier than Tony said it would.

"Just fine, doll. And clearly you seem to be enjoying yourself too. Great mix of songs you brought this time as always!" Tony smiled & returned the hug warmly. "I've been looking for you too by the way. I have someone I want to introduce to you. He's a friend of mine."

"Oh?" She looked up at him with a curious pout.

"Mariella Alamilla may I introduce one of the latest English imports to hit our shores, A Mister James Patrick Page." Tony motioned to Jimmy, snickering at his own overly florid introduction.

She, Mariella, turned to face Jimmy, regarding him with the same curious pout. Indeed there was a touch of wariness edging those eyes as they scanned him guardedly. The young girl stayed close to Tony, anchoring herself to him amidst this stranger before her.

Now was the time.

Jimmy gave her his best disarming smile & extended a hand. "Pleasure to meet you. Call me Jimmy. And may I say you have a phenomenal taste in music. What's the name of the song if I may ask?"

"Pleasure's all mine I'm sure." Her voice was cool & soft as she placed her smaller hand in his lightly. Feathersoft. Fleeting, hesitant contact. None of that brightness & effusiveness that had been so evident in her chat with Tony. "And thank you. It's one of my favorites. It's called "El Boogie de la Guitarra" by Los Crazy Boys. Mexican Rock. Tony likes me to bring some music by artists he and the gang might not have heard of." She explained in a polite yet matter of fact tone.

Mariella had undergone a sudden transition. She went from alive & incandescent to hushed & removed. Her light still shone but now it flickered like a candle in a breeze. A light in the window of a tower, or at a high altar. Still burning. Still present. Still bright. Yet just out of reach. So near & yet so far.

So Tony was right after all! He WAS gonna have to work with this one. Interesting...

Bringing her hand to his lips he kissed the back, eliciting a jolt, soft gasp & the slight widening of eyes.

At least he could get some kind of reaction out of her. A delicious one at that.

Fighting a grin at the sight of her trying to reel in her reactions so & giving a soft curtsy in semi-formal / semi-playful response to his florid actions, he continued. "I hear from Tony you're in the music game too."

"Yes." She replied, still soft yet pointed. "I sing with my father at times & at other times do my own thing."

"Which is?..." Jimmy asked, maintaining his hold on her hand despite the momentary soft pull he felt. She attempted to retract her hand after the kiss, clearly expecting that to be it. Clearly, it wasn't though. And so her hand remained in his, his thumb rubbing the kiss-printed back as the rest of his hand swallowed hers whole & kept it there. Jimmy meanwhile did his best to distract her from this fact by adding. "Tony told me you sing Mexican music?"

"Yes." She nodded, swallowing hard herself. Clearly she was trying to ignore her nerves. Trying to ignore or quell the tremble in her hand that was locked in his. A fact he clearly reveled in. "I sing Mexicana with my older brother, father and his band. Banda. Boleros. Mariachi. That sort of thing. When on my own I sort of mix that with an indie kick. Maybe a little jazz. Maybe a little rock. Maybe something else. It all depends on my mood." Lifting her gaze from her hand in his & pinning him with a look that was at once both curious & cutting, she asked. "Do you sing too, Jimmy?"

He & Tony shared a knowing laugh. "Not really I'm afraid. I plan to stick to the guitar & maybe my art otherwise."

Tony nodded, explaining simply. "Jimmy went to art school before things really kicked off for him. He's now one of the most in demand session guitarists there is, doll!"

Jimmy did his best not to blush at the compliment. He didn't want to be too conspicuous. Though he had been content to remain silent up to this point, Jimmy saw that Tony's eyes had volleyed from Jimmy himself to Mariella and back like he were witness to the most captivating tennis match ever.

"Really now?" Jimmy heard the first lilt in her voice in what had been quite awhile. The light in her eyes flickered anew. The corner of her sweet mouth lifted as she asked. "That seems to be quite a frequent occurrence. Tell me, Mr. Page, do all you Englishmen flock to art school before you hit the music scene?"

Both he & Tony laughed again. "Boy if it don't seem like that sometimes, huh?" Tony nudged Jimmy, grazing him with an elbow to the ribs.

"Yeah it does. A lot of us sure seem to but it's not like a dead set rule or anything." Jimmy smiled as he met her gaze. His laughter crinkled eyes were met with a gaze that was still just as inscrutable as it was penetrating even as little flames of mirth danced in her eyes & in the corners of her soft, wry smile.

Where had he seen such a look before?

He couldn't put a finger on it.

Shaking out of that thought, he added with a soft pat to her hand, still locked in his, with his free one. "In any case I do hope I'll get the honor and pleasure to hear you sing while I'm here."

"Maybe you will." Tony smiled.

Though Jimmy's gaze hardly left Mariella, Jimmy could still catch the barest glimpse of him signaling to someone off to the side.

Another soft curtsy by the young lovely in the blue dress followed, recapturing Jimmy's full attention. "I hope you still find it such a pleasure afterwards if you do."

Jimmy was sure he'd indeed find her such a pleasure.

In more ways than one.

Just then Jimmy found his attentions pulled to his side as a certain familiar blonde, curled her way around him, linking arms with him.

It was Jackie.

"Jimmy..." She drawled, snapping her gum sharply. "Where've you been. I've been looking everywhere for you. And who's this?" He saw her eyes scan Mariella warily.

Mariella for her part barely flinched. Her features hardly changed. One eyebrow lifted in the barest perk as her head tilted slightly. "Nice to see you again, Jackie. How've you been? Haven't seen you since the last music show we did together. Hope you've been well." Her voice was as ever cool, controlled & polite. Where some would fight fire with fire, she clearly preferred to ice out the flames entirely. And rather aptly at that. Smooth.

"Oh hi, Jackie. Tony was just showing me around & introducing me to people." Jimmy explained as coolly as possible.

"I see..." She cast a nonplussed look his way before turning to regard the dusky brunette once more. "Ah, Marie-Ella..." Jackie cooed, breaking her name up in some sort of southern double name special like her own government name was. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize it was you!" Her voice was super sweet as she laid it on as thick as honey. Though try as she might she still came off as something a little short of genuine in her apology & attempts to ingratiate.

Had she always been this cloying?, Jimmy thought.

"Long time no see indeed!" Jackie giggled. "How's the eighth grade? Or is it ninth now? It's been such a long time I just can't keep track."

It was then that Jimmy & Mariella's hold on each other broke.

Eighth grade?

Ninth?

What was that in terms of forms again?

Jimmy cast a stunned look at Mariella who just shrugged.

"Actually I'm in high school now, thanks for asking." She replied matter of factly. Calm. Cool. Collected. Sweet & smooth. "How's the school of life treating you, Jackie? Well, I hope." There went that soft yet inscrutable stare.

Jackie just scoffed & smacked her gum again. "Well enough thanks." Then tugging on Jimmy's arm, she announced. "Jimmy let's go. I have some people I want you to meet."

Before he could think to respond with more than a mere. "Wait, Jackie. Wait..." Mariella gave him a playful salute with two fingers to her temple.

"See you around then. Bye you two."

And with that, she & Tony disappeared into the crowd as Jackie pulled him away.

~

As ever this is forever under construction~!

Hope you guys enjoy~!

[encephalitis-on-sundays]

Chapter 1

The way if War

An Avatar fanfiction featuring most if not all of the characters and more. Taking place around 8 months after the second movie.

Perplexed and unusual were the only set of bound emotions that came rippling through the crowds, a whispering of Navi and hushed wonders filled the once playful and easygoing atmosphere. Tonowari alongside Ajake swam effortlessly out against the reefs to investigate the floating Navi body in the swells.

"It's a girl!" Tonowari called over his broad shoulder as Ajake helped pick her up out of the bubbling sea,"Not Metkayina... human in Navi skin, perhaps we should get our guys to interact?" Ajake spoke low and cautious, he knew far too well the damage that could be done by saving this girl, nonetheless he held her close to his chest, cradling her as he stalked his way out onto the sandy beaches.

"Kiri! Lo-Ak! " He whistled and called for his two eldest to come to his side.

"Get Warr-Ak and meet at the bungalow" He commanded softly now turning to Tonowari whom seemed as pale as a ghost fish. "not too worry... yet, we need to wake her up slowly as if not to put her into shock" he added, turning after the other nodded in approval and carrying her weightless body back to his temporary home.

Warrick was amongst the waves on the farther side of the islands, and with it came peace in the freshness of the water and air. Sighing he dipped his head back into the water to cool off from the relentless sun waves piercing down at his blue skin. It started off as a slight distortion through the boundless sea water, but began to become a louder and more crude muffled cry. Warrick snapped his head back up and quickly made out the voices of the Sully's kids in the close distance with hands over mouths as they hollered for him to return, and that he did.

They filled him in on what had presided on the southern side just nearly an hour ago, "Was she injured? any dog tags or ID of any kind?" he drilled the two as they all made their way back to Ajake and the girl. "Nor have I seen Spider.. sorry, Kiri, your dad must have sent him to gather the scientists" He explained as she inquired of her assumed lovers whereabouts.

Once they all had arrived back to 'base', Warrick immediately found Ajake and two human scientists checking on the almost lifeless beauty washed ashore. He whispered quietly of her profound allure before nuzzling in to get a closer glimpse. Her long dark hair fell cascading over her tawny shoulders and wrapped together near her right wrist.

"Have you ever heard the story of sleeping beauty?" He questioned and got a playful hit behind his head from Ajake whom simply muttered for the other to shut up. "Geez, okay- but did she come with any identification? " He raised a brow while watching one scientist hook up a small machine to her head and heart.

"don't you worry, sleeping beauty; were gonna figure this whole thing out" he mumbled and leaned in to evaluate the numbers processing her vitals.

Spider sat back with Kiri and Lo AK watching and whispering amongst themselves about who Warr- aks mystery sleeping beauty was, laughing at the hopeless romantics' antics. Lo- Ak jabbed Spider in the side before mumbling about Tuks new boy friend who stood by the entrance soaked and with prying eyes; curious in the Sully's newest adopt.

"That's enough" Ajake spoke up and turned back towards the forming group of bystanders and stood up showcasing his dominance in his towering semblance.

"Spider, take the bucket and fill it with fresh water from the stream, keep eyes on the sky, and be back within the hour, comm me if the mission changes in any way" He ordered, and gave the young man a nod of appreciation as Spider gave a " Yes Sir!" and scrambled out of the home.

"Everyone else can find work to do otherwise I will gladly give you something productive to waste time with" He announced sternly and shooed his other kids away.

"Stay with her, I need to talk to Tonowari once more" Ajake told warr-ak before pushing the curtains aside and stepping out of the home he's grown to have a fondness for.

Warrick nodded absently as the scientists began to explain she was in fact human, but using a navi's consciousness. For what reason they had no clue, yet something about this girl seemed magical. Once everyone had left the two alone he crouched close by her side and put his nose to her cheek; breathing in her sea filled scent with a small huff before sitting back again with a lopsided grin. 'This is the closest I've ever been to a female' He thought slightly embarrassed by his obvious adoration for his mystery sleeping beauty.

Spider didnt drag heels as he carried himself easily past the other Navi; grabbing a hefty wooden bucket along his way. Holding with both arms he found himself thinking yet again of their former home back within the forests' caves. Grunting when he leaped clumsily over a broken tree and almost dropped the empty jug once landing amongst the sandy dirt on the other side. Spider clutched the water container with more might before slinging it under his right arm pit with a hushed huff.

"Damn it" He cursed, remembering another more difficult memory of the sudden past he would of rather left burried in the sea. His thoughts were cut short when the sound of trickling water found its way into the air's stiff silence.

'Its too quiet, somethings up' He found thoughts slamming the alarm bells in his head as he ducked and crawled under a broken tree to get to the rivers soft flow. This way he was well hidden from sight, or so he would have given to hope to be true, but the alarms only grew to a wailing pitch.

"shit shit shit" Muttering quickly and hushed by the rivers null, Spider hurriedly sank the bowl into the water and watched as the liquid filled to the top. His eyes wandering over the landscape as he sat ready and camouflaged to the best of his ability. A soft call caught him off guard and he fell sideways into the slow moving river with an audible splash. As soon as he hit the waters cold surface hands were on him and securing him in place.

"Just the kid ive been looking for" A voice grumbled out not but inches away, Spider hissed loudly and tried to free himself before being ushered back to land.

"now now, no reason to kick and scream, I aint here to cause any harm, call it more of a.. curiosity " Quaritch reasoned with his son, letting him go and holding up his hands to hopefully change the intensity of their second or now third introduction.

"You tried to kill Kiri!" Spider yelled and balled his hands into tight fists, "i shouldve let you drown!" He hissed, amusement flickering on the olders features.

Quaritch felt his chest drop to his stomach over bearing the weight of being 'the bad guy', and now even dubbed so by his only kin.

"I didnt though-how about we put the past behind us and go from there, eh kiddo?" He hoped that maybe this would bond them close enough to not keep 'secrets', and Quaritch would no doubt find all of the Sullys' Gossip if his son would fall into his plan. 'if'

Spider shook his head fast and with panic knocking on the door to his inner mind and he bit his lip trying to compute what the other was saying, and how to react. He reached up to grab at his head and dug fingers into his scalp while with elbows up turned in a complete circle before crouching down to hear the other out. "Butthole" he speaks out in Navi so the other might feel double the attack.

"What do you want?!" Spider yelled in frustration, taking to standing and swaying his balance in preparation to get the hell outta there and that situation. 'call it in' He fought back the urge feeling sorry once again for the colonel.

The sudden show of emotion ran its course within the youngers body and soul although he was still very on edge, and that the colonel understood.

"Anyways!" He calls to him with a shrug and momentarily puts his hand on his gun before releasing his grip. "I just wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday.... That was very brave of you so- Spider. you couldve let me drown" He meets the others gaze. "but you didnt " he finished with a frown.

"Why are you doing this?" Spiders voice harsh and yet wavering. "why are you telling me this? !" His voice raised in strength and octave as he gripped the strap to his small duffel bag in any attempt to cool his head, "I don't know you, so leave me alone, dumbass!" He shouted the last insult and stood his ground, glancing back behind him every few seconds.

Quaritch knew he had hit the jugular in the kids way of expressing his 'energy', though with the insult the man furrowed his brow.

"careful now, I didn't say I couldn't bite..." He warns before clearing his throat and crouching down to the boys level. "Miles, you don't belong here with 'them'... boy, you belong with other men and woman of your kind... aren't you at least curious as the world you've been taught to hate?"

Spider flinched when his birth name was used but continued to hold his stance ready for a fight if it were to ensue. "No! I hate them!" He declared loudly as if trying to scare the man away before anything escalated. "Just go, I have to go, I'm not going with you, 'Sir'" He mocked, making an effort to contort his face in the look of disgust.

Spiders comm went off indicating he had been gone much longer than him or any other had foreseen. He pressed the button to halt the timers alarm and turned back annoyed now with the other and less afraid.

"Mr. Sully... " He looked at the other as he slowly began to gather his jug of water and used wound vine to tie it to his side.

"See ya, loser!" He yelled before giving a loud and dramatic hiss towards the man, and fleeing as fast as he could go back towards the village. He looped around the south side of the island to check if the colonel had been tracking him, which he found no evidence of such and with a heavy defeated sigh carried on with a heavy heart and complex situation.

The light from the day seemed to fade as easy as an ink smudge, the clouds shifting and turning dark against the purple skies. Ajake heard the commotion of his kids calling out to their very late companion, sighing in annoyance he flipped the curtains back and frowned while stepping out from where the girl slept.

"Do I not recall giving you a stressed time approval... Two hours ago" Sully raised a brow down at the human boy, his hands on hips, and with a stare that could freeze molten lava.

Spider felt uncomfortable being stood so small next to someone so fierce that he nearly refused to meet the man's eyes.

"sorry, Sir" He spoke and quickly offered the jug over with a glance towards Kiri who stood back but stayed alert in their conversation. It sucked being disappointing to anyone, and Spider was going to make sure not to slip up again.

"Recheck your comms, dismissed" Ajake spoke now a bit softer as he did not want to take his frustrations out on the kid before him. He took the water and returned to where Warwick and the odd Avatar we're inside.

"Dude, are you going to cry?" Lo Ak teased once his father was away, getting a harsh elbow jab from Spider in return.

"you wish" the boy taunted back with a scrunched-up face to show his displease.

"It's not funny, some of us were worried... I thought they'd taken you again" Kiri said through a cracking voice and eyes focused only on her soul mate.

"Kiri..." He looked her up and down before pulling her slowly into a tight hug, body to body.

"I'm right here" He added comfort to his words by tapping right where her heart would be and chuckling as Lo ak made fake vomiting noises.

"Lame, bro" Lo ak laughed out and shook his head. "im right here~" he continued to mock fun of the other as the three each headed towards the other side of the bungalow home.

-----------------------------------

[violettesiren]

No winter twilight chills us now, but rather The night is waning, and the day is near; For to the northern distance, and yet farther Fades the unheeded splendor of the year. No flower, in truth, may cheer the eager sight, No lonely bird is calling for its mate; We have the sense of earth’s forthcoming light, Spring broods above the hills, and we can wait.

The meadow does not heed the warmth returning, The starry coltsfoot still withholds her buds, The wishful eye, far-sighted and discerning, Can choose no spot of green amid the woods; There is no winsome odor in the winds, But with a pulse of living strength they blow, Though in some hollow still the traveler finds Half-sheltered from the sun, the lingering snow.

The Spring reveals herself in secret only, Thro’ hidden signs we guess her mystic power, The fields are bare, the woodlands wild and lonely, But lo! beneath the earth she hides the flower. The willows quicken at the river’s brim, The eager alder breaks her tawny buds, The upland hills are wrapt in hazes dim, And sweet, impulsive life has stirred the woods.

March by Dora Read Goodale

[i-meticulous4life]

I-meticulous4life Cemetery sign 1937

Painted sign for the LA. Pet cemetery, located at 2500 N. Highland Avenue. Advertising that the cemetery includes a crematory and mausoleum and that visitors are welcome

AKA LOS Angeles pet memorial park.

The LOS Angeles pet memorial park was founded by celebrity veterinarian Dr. Eugene jones on September 4th, 1928, and became the final rating place for such animals stars as Tawny, one of the MGM lions jiggs- “Cheetah’’ from Tarzan, Pete the pup from our gang and Topper- the trusty steed of hopalong Cassidy.

Not only celebrities animals, but the Animal of celebrities Rest In Peace at these enduring , revered ground.