#them and the tie clash horribly

[pinkravat-art]

i cannot keep my identity secret anymore. I am harrier du bois

[girlboypersonthingy]

Was inspired by bambygourl’s fanart and a TikTok I saw. Dressing up as Roger and Jessica Rabbit for a costume party with Lucifer. I think he’d be all pouty and grumpy about dressing up as such a silly character and not a suave charming character. Tho his mood is sufficiently uplifted when he sees the reader dressed up as Jessica Rabbit. Pulling on his suspenders or bow tie for a kiss, getting lipstick on his mouth and face, and cooing over how adorable and handsome her honey-bunny is.

BYE I WENT AND LOOKED AT THE ART TOO THIS IS SO GOOD!!! Thank you for the request! And enjoy 😘

Notes: fem!reader, suggestive themes, just a short little drabble

Lucifer x reader- Honey Bunny 🤍

“(Y/N)…I look stupid.” Lucifer grumbles through the bathroom door to you, looking at himself in the full length mirror in front of him. He hated the way he looked in red pants and suspenders?! Like come on…and this ugly blue bow tie that clashes horribly with the rest of the outfit. “I’m not wearing the bunny ears. I’m not!” He complains loudly, pouting a bit when he hears you laughing on the other side of the door.

“I’m sure you look adorable, babe! Come on, it’s a costume party. Everyone will be in silly costumes!” You call out to him as you are finishing up your makeup. “Yes, but I’m the king of hell. I don’t want this to make me look bad. I dunno…just haven’t been out in a while. I’m feeling quite anxious, love.” Lucifer confesses in a soft and worried tone, still staring at himself in the mirror. He usually wasn’t such a poor sport when it came to these things but it’s been way too long since he’s attended a party, especially one thrown by one of the deadly sins. Luci is feeling the pressure.

A few minutes pass as you perfect your lipstick and check your hair in the mirror. Finally you slip your heels on, layer on a couple sprays of your favorite perfume and exit the bathroom. As soon as you pass the threshold of the door way, all of Lucifer’s worries dissolve away in seconds. A wicked smirk finds your lips as Lucifer feels himself becoming nervous for a whole other reason. He couldn’t get any words out, not one little whimper would even leave him. He was star struck by you in that gorgeous low cut dress with all that glamorous makeup on. Fuck, he knew it would be impossible not to stare at your chest nearly overflowing from your dress all night.

“Aww, baby! You look so cute.” Lucifer huffs at your cooing. “Pleeeaasssee put the ears on, I wanna see.” You plead as you slowly close the distance between you two. “Come on, Luci. Wear ‘em for me~” You continue your advance on him, getting so close that he has no choice but to stumble back onto the bed behind him. Putting on your best pout and prettiest puppy dog eyes, you lean down to get nice and close to his furiously blushing face. Without saying a word, Lucifer puts the white fuzzy bunny ears on his head, still staring up at you with stars in his eyes. Immediately, you perk up with a bright smile.

“Yay! Oh my goodness, you are too cute! Ugh, I love you.” Quickly, you lean in and kiss his lips, lingering there for a second before pulling back. “Oh, my dear, you are so beautiful. Wow.” Lucifer mumbles quietly as he looks you up and down. You couldn’t stifle your giggles as you admire your lipstick stamped so perfectly on his own lips. “You know…” You start before slowly slipping your fingers under his suspenders and gripping them tight in your fists. “We don’t have to go.” Teasingly, you crawl into his lap, now straddling him on the bed as you use his suspenders to get him closer. “We could just…stay home.” You kiss his cheek. “I could ease your anxiety.” You kiss his other cheek then his forehead. “And you can mess up my makeup all you want~”

You sit up straight now and Lucifer looses all his self control as his hands come to your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he finds himself perfectly face to face with your busty chest. His entire face from neck to ears is rapidly turning darker shades of red as a dopey smile widens across his cheeks. Bitting your bottom lip, you shimmy your chest in his face. “Whatdya say, my little honey bunny~?” Lucifer becomes weak and flops back on the bed, laying on his back as you straddle his lap still, enjoying seeing him in this state of desire and embarrassment. He puts an arm over his face in hopes of hiding from you but of course, you pull his arm away and look down at him with a loving gaze. He looks so precious right now- in this silly costume just for you, blushing and sweating and speechless all for you, and covered in your lipstick too.

“No, no…” With a loud and exaggerated sigh, Lucifer sits up and gives you gentle hug, now letting his head rest on your plush chest. “We should go. It’ll be good to make an appearance, catch up with some friends.” After a tight hug, you happily hop off his lap and grab his hand, pulling him to his feet. “Great choice, my love. This will be fun! And I’ll be with you the whole time.” You assure him before leaning over and straightening out his bow tie. Without warning, you use the fabric around his neck to pull him into another heated kiss, this time Lucifer’s hands come to your hips as he hums against your lips.

“Fuck, you’re so cute. Promise you’ll mess up my makeup later then?” You nuzzle your nose against his face as you await his reply. He hesitates, obviously flustered and trying to keep his dick under control. “Anything you want, my love.” And now you’re giggling again, pulling him by the hand out the front door. “Oh! I forgot, lemme get something to wipe your face. You’ve got lipstick every-“

Lucifer pulls you close, wrapping his arm around your waist as he smirks devilishly. He continues to pull you along out the door. “I already look silly, right? Eh, just leave it. It’ll let everyone know that the babe in the black lipstick beside me… Yeah, she’s mine and I’m hers.” It’s your turn to blush and oh boy, do you turn red.

And the whole car ride there, you’re just covering him in more and more kiss marks, even leaving a hicky or two on him as he fondles your chest and slowly becomes drunk off your lips. You two walk into the party looking disheveled but happy, Luci covered in lipstick and sweat while your hair is a bit of a mess now and your lipstick is almost completely wiped off. Hes really glad he decided to wear the bunny ears after all because he loves the way you keep looking at him tonight.

[doromoni]

Clash of Champions | LH44 , MV1

Act 1 . Part 3 : Beaten Black and Red Bull Blue

Ships : Lewis Hamilton x Engineer! Reader , Max Verstappen x Engineer! Reader

Genre : Drama , Angst , Romance

Warnings : Morally Grey Characters

Summary : The rivalry between the titans of Formula 1 go off track and only one will reign victorious.

< Previous Act 2. >

Never in your days in Formula 1 would you even consider leaving everything behind and disappearing from it all. But staring at you was your resignation letter, fully written out and waiting to be sent.

Everything felt torturous. Your mind was eating you alive, it felt like your entire body was pushing you to cut every tie with the motorsport world. You felt sick to your stomach and bile was pushing out your throat. You just wanted to disappear.

It was the year 2021. No one had predicted the sudden rise of Red Bull in the form of Max Verstappen. The Mercedes dominance was now on the brink of dethronement.

Toto’s promise of an 8th championship to Lewis was under the threat of insolvency. The entirety of Mercedes is at its wit's end, with so many questions and no answers to give.

Nothing was solved, and people are now starting to point fingers at who’s at fault. Blame was being passed around from all parts of the motorhome. No one could accept that there was a driver that could challenge Lewis Hamilton and it was time for an actual battle on the track, except you — and because of this, just because you acknowledge the talent of Max Verstappen, you were branded a traitor. Suddenly, they finally had someone to blame. Y/N L/N, the Red Bull ally.

Your time at Mercedes had brought you hell and back. Every race week was as horrible as the previous one. When Lewis won a race it was a team effort, but when he lost, it was entirely your fault as an engineer. Your every action in every hallway felt like you were walking on eggshells.

The stress and tension had muddled every part of your life. However, you pushed through and took every hit, all because you wanted that 8th championship. Because it was all for the man that you gave your heart to, Lewis Hamilton. You are willing to give up everything for the sake of him.

No one saw that you were slowly dying inside, not even Lewis. It had been a while since the two of you had properly spoken, ironically you see each other every day. Yet everything revolved around racing and the championship, even on off weeks, Lewis was either training or out of the house for events he couldn’t bring you to.

Your shared apartment felt empty and icy. But everything felt alright when at the end of the day Lewis pulls you close, his arms tight against your stomach and you drift to sleep. And yet you wake up in an empty bed. It was a vicious cycle and one you cannot seem to let go of. All because you love him, even now, even when it hurts.

Yet, hurt and all emotions are set aside when your headphones go on and the roar of the engine goes off. You were still a race engineer and a damn good one at that. No matter what everyone said , they cannot argue that you were the best there was.

In all circumstances, when the lights go off, the goal is to win and win at all costs — but you were no monster. You didn’t want Silverstone 2021.

“Ok, Lewis. Radio check”

“ Loud and clear”

You feel the air change around you, the thick tension of eagerness seeped out in every corner of your side of the garage. The crew wanted to win, BADLY — the Mercedes side of the paddock was filled with desperation.

Red Bull had been winning for 5 straight races, and Verstappen owned 4 of them. Everyone from your garage was desperate for p1.

“I know that you want this win, Lew. Just keep your head low and focus on the goal” You suddenly felt the need to remind the British driver.

“ I know, Y/N” Lewis bit back. You didn’t like the tone of how he said your name. But you pushed that aside as you felt the hostility behind his voice.

“Lewis, don’t do anything rash please” you murmured hoping to peace with the British champion. Lewis had nothing else to say, and in all honesty, you were more than worried.

There was a growing pit in your stomach as if you knew something was about to happen.

And as Crofty announced the start of the race, there at lap 1, Max Verstappen had faced a horrendous crash. And it was caused by your driver. At 51Gs , Max Verstappen had hit the wall. The crash was caused by Lewis.

“He just turned on me,” Lewis said. Bull fucking Shit. You knew that what Lewis said was not close to the truth and you knew that Lewis did as well.

You were frozen from shock as you looked at the degree of Max’s crash. You didn’t realize that you were holding your breath till you saw that Max was out of the car. Your heart broke when the audio replay of the initial impact played, Max's voice held copious amounts of pain.

You were not well acquainted with the Dutch driver, but every interaction with him was pleasant and bafflingly soothing, considering that you were in opposing teams and his short temper. And you did keep your distance to respect your employers, even if you did enjoy talking with Max .Nevertheless, even when he is the “enemy” he didn’t deserve to be hurt.

Lewis had won the race and you refused to go on the podium and celebrate with the team. Even with your already dubious morals , you cannot swallow celebrating someone’s pain.

When you refused to go on the podium celebration, your boss threatened your job and stability with the team. So you did, and you watched your boyfriend celebrate without a care in the world.

Then at the sight of champagne being sprayed , everything came crashing down and an epiphany washed over you like scalding hot water.

The person you were looking at was not the same person that you once loved. It was as if you were looking at a stranger. He was not the same Lewis Hamilton that you have your heart to. No, this was just the 7 time World Champion from Mercedes.

At that realization, your whole body became numb. You started to walk away even before the end of the ceremony, people from your garage calling out your name.

You cannot find yourself to care as you beelined towards the circuit’s hospital wing. And there you found Max still groaning in pain.

You slowly went towards the Red Bull driver’s bed. Max opened his eyes to the soft noises of your shoes.

As he made up your form, his eyes shone with recognition. You weren’t supposed to be here, not when you were already tagged as a traitor by your team.

“ Hi Max, long time no talk huh? How are you feeling?” You asked with a soft smile, a smile that he mirrored back.

“Well, you never did return my handkerchief, now did you Y/N?”

And there started your friendship with Max Emilian Verstappen.

Before you could even bid goodbye and greet Max with a get well soon, your short visit to the clinic was already widespread in the Mercedes motorhome.

You were then called to Toto’s office. The news of your demotion to assistant race engineer left a thick silence between the two of you.

Every emotion you bottled up had reached the surface and that one last straw toppled the scale.

You took your phone out of your pocket and hit send on the resignation email, you were now certain that you didn’t want any part of this team and anything within it.

With no words, only a smile adorning your face and a finger stuck to the air. You left Mercedes, not once looking back.

“ Hello, Christian? I think I am interested in that meeting after all”

End of Act 1

Taglist : @vicurious28 @xoscar03 @barnestatic @stelena-klayley @sopheeg @imagandom @4-20-21-12 @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @minkyungseokie @d3kstar @kimialaia @mrsmelinda @cosmicwintr @younxii @ssrcsm @paigem00 @seokjinkismet @wcnorris @jayjay11122 @embersparklz @its-elias-world

Anyone interested to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or DM me!

A/N : Y/N baddie era coming in the near future 😮‍💨

[bibibbon]

It's especially disappointing that All Might and Hawks rarely interact, despite having contrasting views of their ideal hero world (one wanting heroes to be self-sacrificing and hard-working, the other wanting heroes to have endless free time).

The only time they interact is to indirectly talk about Endeavor (because of course). However, it's not to discuss their connections to and disapproval of him, instead it's to lament about how Endeavor of all person was harmed by the hero society.

Hero society needs to change, and Hawks will help. Only regarding Endeavor. Only for Endeavor.

All might and hawks don't really have proper interactions where we see both of their beliefs clash. Yes, we see all might and hawks interact outside of endeavor but the interactions where we do see them talk about the state of hero society (specifically seen in the latest manga chapters 427 and above) are incredibly vague and shallow.

It's a shame that the only proper discussion these two seem to have about heroics is about the hero popularity polls or billboards which hawks change about them (to me) is a horrible idea since I believe that they should of just been taken down in general instead of being expanded since they done more harm than good.

(That aside why does all might looks so gloomy?he looks weird)

Yes enji is a character that ties these two closely but even that isn't explored to its fullest potential. Hawks never seems to react negatively to finding out that his hero who saves him from his own abuser is also an abuser and a terrible human being in many ways and all might never seems to react to enji also being a terrible being and him being a terrible being all because he wanted to surpass all might. The lack of build up and reaction is so irritating

Beyond the enji connection for all might and hawks you also have their personal lives and thinking. The current hero system is something that all might built and the hpsc (even if by accident) is something that all might influenced the creation of and contributed to building. All might even if he never meant for it is the creator of the current status quo and all of its problems and positives tie back to him.

Now this is interesting because you can explore the guilt all might can have with this issue and how hawks someone who has suffered and benefited from the status quo reacts and Interacts with all might. We already see that all might and hawks have clashing views specifically when it comes to heroics with all might putting his entire life into heroics and using all of his strength to make sure he creates a perfect world where people can rely on someone (ultimately creating the massive bystander effect in mha) this is all contrasted to hawk's own beliefs where he wants heroes to have a ton of free time and we can see that this belief stems from hawk's own experiences of working and it could be argued that this maybe a wider criticism that horikoshi holds towards the toxic work culture there is especially the one in Japan.

However, both of these ideologies are flawed by themselves and would have a lot of negative consequences if implemented. This is why it would be even more interesting to have hawks and all might come to a conclusion where yes heroes need to work properly but they also need to have proper breaks and support while also allowing other members of society to play their role.

The more interesting thing is that you can have all might and hawks both come to this conclusion in the vigilante arc with hawks learning how valuable other members (who aren't heroes) to society which is something he can learn with tokoyami checking up on him and contacting him. All the while all might can learn that heroes cannot overexert themselves or they will snap and may even die in battle which is something he can learn from seeing izuku his successor almost go too far and get himself killed from pure exhaustion and reckless behaviour.

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

Day 2 -- Solitary Confinement

Modern AU where young Wild is a feral forest child, raised by Wolf Twilight. He is captured, separated from Twilight, and put under observation. Confusion, claustrophobia, loneliness.

Wild missed the Wolf.

Well, he missed a lot of things. He missed his own clothes—his cloak, soft blue tunic and khaki trousers, even his shoes—which had been taken from him and replaced with a scratchy, backless gown that seemed to slip off his shoulders every time he dared to move. Even his hair tie was gone, and his long blond hair hung loose around his face. He missed the forest he’d lived in ever since that portal had snatched him up and dropped him in a world he didn’t recognize. He missed his cave that he called home and shared with the Wolf, and he missed the little trinkets the Wolf had brought to him he kept on the shelf next to his bed—his sketchbook, his few pencils, his stuffed replica of Wolf that he slept with every night that Wolf was away. He missed the sounds of the wind blowing through the trees and the birds singing from their branches and leaves rustling beneath his feet on the forest floor. He missed the sky, bright and blue above him.

It was all replaced with silence and this dim white room. Eerily steady lights hummed and flickered overhead, making his ears ring; the cold tile floor nipped at his toes anytime he ventured from the low bed in the corner of the room; the white walls burned themselves into his vision; the air itself, stale and heavy, weighed heavily against his chest with each inhale and exhale; and the one-way mirror on the opposite side of the room antagonized him worse than anything else, taunting him with his own bedraggled reflection.

Wild glared at that mirror, loathing it with all of his being. He imagined driving his fist through it and shattering it to pieces. He focused on a section of the glass, and he hoped that he was managing to stare down whoever was behind it, though he couldn’t tell. Those people hiding behind its shield—people with rounded ears and blinding lights in their hands and rough voices, that talked in a language that he didn’t understand—had been the ones that brought him here. That kidnapped him.

Wild hugged his knees close, curling smaller into himself where he sat on this unfamiliar bed, wedged in the corner of the white, sterile room. Even the bed itself was an odd thing, with dark blue covers covered in cartoonish shapes and the walls around it surrounded by faded, peeling stickers of stars and rainbows as far as one could reach. He thought it might have been meant to brighten up the atmosphere of the room, but the odd splashes of color clashed horribly with the white of the rest of the room, and it only made him all the more anxious. 

Guilt and fear waged a battle in Wild’s chest. It was all of his fault that he’d been kidnapped by these strangers, he knew. The Wolf had warned him, with sharp nudges and low growls, from getting too close to the people of this world. People with rounded ears and language and machines outside of his comprehension, similar to the Divine Beasts, but also so different. They’d had a few close encounters—each time, Wolf had signaled for Wild to hide and driven the interlopers away with his fierce stature and glowing blue eyes—and afterwards, Wolf would move them deeper into the forest. He would drive it in, with his expressive glances and exasperated huffs, that these people were to be avoided, at all costs.

In his curiosity, Wild hadn’t listened to the warning. Last night—had it been last night? There was no sun by which to tell the time within here—he’d snuck away from the Wolf to explore one of those nearby villages, with its bright lights and tall buildings and roaring machines. 

He’d only meant to have a little expedition, not even crossing the hard roads that crisscrossed the thinner parts of the forest. He’d only wanted a glimpse. But they spotted him, and before he could get his wits about him, he was surrounded. A group of them—all older than him, stronger than him—had run him down through the forest, cornered him against a natural cliff, caught him and wrestled him inside of one of their roaring beasts even as he kicked and screamed, crying out for the Wolf to save him all the while. He’d been too far from home by then, and the Wolf hadn’t heard. 

Something had stabbed into his neck, an unnatural sleepiness had overcome him, and he’d woken up here, under the thin covers of that bed in the corner of the room.

Completely alone.

Wild wondered if the Wolf knew where he was. If he knew that he’d even been taken. Perhaps the Wolf was sitting at home, his head on his paws, as he wondered when Wild would get home to cook dinner from whatever he’d hunted during the day. Maybe it hadn’t been long enough, and he didn’t even know that anything was wrong. Wild’s heart clenched at the idea, and he turned his mind away from it, towards action.

Wild knew, rationally, that he had to escape and get back to the Wolf on his own, somehow. But he’d run through the scenarios a thousand times, and there was nothing in the room to help him get out. The door that trapped him here was thick and windowless, its handle stiff and guarded by some glowing square that the strangers hit little buttons on to open and close. He’d already crept over to it, and despite how much he fiddled with the contraption, it only flashed red and beeped at him unrelentingly. Both chairs in the room, as well as the metal table around which they sat, were bolted firmly to the floor, so he couldn’t use their edges to break that cursed window. The flap in the door through which they delivered food—which he had ignored earlier that day—was too small for Wolf to fit his muzzle through, nevermind for Wild himself to shimmy his way out. 

And besides, those strangers were still watching him through that window. He couldn’t see them, but he knew they were there, observing his every move. It made his hair stand on end, to know that they could see him while he couldn’t see them in return.

And suddenly, frustration and anger seized Wild so fiercely that he was shooting to his feet and crossing to the one-way mirror before he even realized he’d moved. 

“Let me out! Let me out of here!” he demanded in a yell. His reflection shouted back at him, wild-eyed and pale, its shoulders drawn up in defensive anger. He banged his fist against the glass, and it bowed slightly underneath the weight of his blow, but it didn’t break. “What do you want? Who are you people? Where am I? Where’s Wolf? What’s going on? I want to go home!” 

There was a cup on the table, it had been there since he arrived. It was filled with some syrupy, sweet smelling liquid that Wild was sure was poison. In an instant, Wild had snatched up the cup and thrown it at the mirror. It bounced off of the glass with a brilliant spatter, then rolled along the floor, emptying the rest of its contents in a wide arc across the sterile white tiles.

“What’s going on? Where’s Wolf! I want to go home!” Wild’s voice rose to a hysterical shriek. “Let me out! I want to go home!”

Wild’s chest heaved with fury as he glared down the mirror, his ears pinned back and his teeth bared in animalistic anger. The mirror, as always, gave him no response. 

And suddenly, the room seemed to be growing smaller, and the air thinner. This was it, the walls would close in and the ceiling would lower until he was crushed into a little tiny box. The room would run out of air, and he would suffocate. He’d be trapped here forever until he died, and he’d never escape those eyes that he couldn’t see, and he’d never find Wolf again.

Wild stumbled away from that cursed mirror, choking on air. He had to get away from those eyes, to get away from the white walls so that he could breathe . But how could he hide, when there was no way to escape this room? Somehow, he found his way back to that bed in the corner of the room, and a semblance of an idea managed to rise from the panic consuming his mind. 

Wild threw himself underneath the bed, dragging down the covers of the bed to the floor like a curtain to hide himself, and wedged himself into the far corner of the small space. With the eyes finally off of him, his breathing eased, but not by a lot. He hugged his arms around himself, breathing in and out with a count of eight just like Wolf had taught him.

He longed for Wolf so much that it brought tears to his eyes. Wolf would have curled up next to him underneath this bed, poking him with his cold, wet nose until Wild uncurled and buried his face in his thick fur instead. He would’ve walked him out of here and taken him home, where his surroundings had color and sound and natural light, where he wasn’t watched and where things made sense. Instead, he was here all alone, and it was all his fault.

Hylia, he missed Wolf.

Visit me on ao3! Day 2 -- Solitary Confinement

Yeah so basically this is an AU i've been sitting on for a few years that's like Pete's Dragon but instead it's Wild's Wolf and also he gets taken to freaking Area 61 because he's from another world and got those long elf ears. Listen, I don't really have this thing fleshed out. Anyways let me know what you think :D

First Chapter >> Next Chapter

[beast-towers]

Final of Clashing Worlds.

From the last post and now we are on part two and final of my comic. Thank you all for the read!

Previous Part of Clashing Worlds

Warning: Some Blood and brighter colors will be shown, I do apologize about that.

Wish to continue? Alrighty then!

Hunter’s Report:

Time: 8:36 AM

Region: England

Area of Sighting: Alton Towers

As I explained before in the beginning of my last report of Uri’s sighting, Uri and her fellow Guardians felt an uneasy sensation in the air, and she has found one of the pieces. It was hard to believe that whatever this was, it has placed a Twisted “Blessing” onto Otsana Risa, Guardian Beast of The Smiler. Uri had done everything in her power to at least weaken Otsana and bring her to be purified… I’m afraid that was proven to be a difficult task.

As I and Alton discuss this situation, we’ve heard an explosion created by Uri. With no hesitation, I ran to the location, as a grandmother, I do worry for my grandchildren… but with this Darkness looming over the land, I didn’t want it to take another victim.

I thankfully reached my granddaughter in time before whatever was watching can make a move… I know it’s not Melanthios… the very demon I defeated so long ago. This is different, but not in the same threat level as him… well, it’s close enough unfortunately. Which it is concerning enough for Alton and the beasts. Whatever or whoever this was, he fears it still has enough power to do the very same to the other beasts… just like the poor Werewolf.

I have sent a band of hunters to track down Otsana’s blood trail and her whereabouts… This was my mistake. This darkness didn’t leave, and since it didn’t get their claws on my granddaughter’s soul, I’m afraid it grabbed them instead… UNFORGIVABLE. I and my family went out to search for them… nothing. Except claw marks and a scent of Otsana’s blood, and… unknown smell of someone and a horrible chemical smell. I’m not sure it was this dark energy or her…. My only prayer now is that the hunters are alive and fighting to escape…

Unfortunately, I will need further proof and an identification to launch a full hunt, capture, and rescue. I will be sending close Allies, my fellow Huntress, and my Grandson: Sycorax, Edric, Calypso, and Zyran to aid Alton with the beasts’ worries, while in the hopes to capture Otsana… if my and my dear friend’s Sight is correct and played right, perhaps one of them can help Otsana see through this polluted darkness, and return her to the light.

End of Report.

-Wolf Van Helsing, Lady of the Abyss Watchers.

—————————————————————

Thank you all so much for reading! This has been very interesting experience for me, and I hope I’ll get better at it in time ^^;

So! What really inspired me to make this? Once a fucking again, Darbi. Mostly Season 3 Ep. 42 Clensing (IV) or #117. (If wrong let me know so I can edit this) I HIGHLY recommend reading it! While it was on hiatus, I decided to read Season 3 and I forgot all about that scene of Dolla fighting Darbi, and it didn’t leave my mind until I finally caved in and created this! Was it fun? Yes. HOWEVER; my only mistake here is this: I should of planned it better. This all came into mind and that alone, so hopefully next time if I ever thought of this again, I’m grabbing my Note Book to write for ideas….

And lastly! And I’m still gonna thank you for this again! @twistedtowers for the incredible redesigning of Otsana! (And I’m sorry she didn’t get a W ;w; but the two got a tie… I know, still not a W ;-;) I wanted to experiment and have of the idea of “Otsana wants and has to prove she can Control the park, but there are those who would step up and forbid her from doing that.” A.K.A, Uri and perhaps now some future characters.

Okay, off to what was going on with the two having glowing lines! Welp, that’s not only a self regeneration, but also a way to charge up their attacks. Example: Otsana’s Flash attack. (Welp, looks like it’s been powered up now… thanks Regan.) with enough energy she can unleash it to an whole group, but pretty sure after this scuffle… she may want some training 😬 but she felt a bit proud for forcing Uri back into human form while stunning her.

As for Uri, why did her eyes changed? Welp, if pushed WAAAY in her limit, a deep Primal Instinct will be awakened. Her grandmother calls it: Primal Spirit. Basically it boosts up the power of the individual, and they are easily set off into a rage. But don’t be fooled, just because the person is mega angry, doesn’t mean they’re fully blinded, this will make them more focused and unleash their rage on the weak spot. Downside however, it will drain the person HEAVILY, causing them to be knocked out for awhile as seen from Uri.

Finally, Wolf Van Helsing herself. What or who is she? Well, for short. She is Uri’s Grandmother, and a Shiftwalker woman who survived a horrific war and carnage from a demon named, Melanthios, The Dark Flower who Blooms in One’s Heart. And that massive star like shape on her chest…. That’s a scar. Girl took in a deadly hit just to seal Melas away for 150 years. While dying, her allies and deceased old friend separated Melas’s life energy, and transferred it to her. Reborn as a being of Light, Creation, and Life. And to make things complicated for Melanthios, she transferred the same Energy to her children, and they passed it on to their children… like Uri. Explains why her transformation looks like a piece of an orange nebula. (Look man, I love space.)

Extras: Who are Sycorax, Edric, Zyran, and Calypso?? Two out of the four are my old ocs that I decided to bring back for fun! That being: Sycorax a battle scarred man and user of Alchemy Magic and a wolf side that might surprise Otsana, and Edric the adopted son of an Ice Queen (she belongs to a close bro of mine) and a man with a secret identity (Hint: he is NOT human.) he also uses Ice and Space magic as well for combat, but it’s the Black Ice that should be concerning IF pushed to his limits.

Zyran is Uri’s big brother (like 4 years older) and pretty sure after this incident… yeah home boi will unleash his thunder. As for Calypso, a fierce huntress well known in the Hunters World, but what role is she gonna play here? ;3

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Was wondering who's your favourite Jason Todd writer. (Maybe least favourite too)

Oooh this is a tough one! In part because I'm not entirely sure who to count as a Jason Todd writer, and in another part because I'm trying to pick someone other than Winick bc saying it's him feels too obvious lmao

The joke answer is Bruce Jones, because I genuinely adore Nightwing: Brothers In Blood, though I uhhh- look I GET why other people do not xD

But really maybe I should just bite the bullet and say it's Judd Winick. I do love what he did with the character and I can say with confidence that I'm not just listing him cause of Under the Red Hood. Seeing Red in Green Arrow (2001) is like my favorite comic run ever. Jason's appearance in Outsiders (2003) is great. Streets Run Red in B&R was solid. Lost Days remains my favorite interpretation of the time after he came back, despite the fact that I have some criticisms.

That being said, I do think I mildly prefer him in an anti-hero role rather than Winick's sympathetic villain who can sometimes be reasoned with, and I quite like what Rosenburg has been doing with him.

It feels like Rosenburg has a really solid idea in his head of who Jason is and why/how he clashes with the other bats. I enjoyed The Man Who Stopped Laughing way more than I thought I would. Taskforce Z has definite merits. Gotham War was a complete clusterfuck and horribly organized, but I do think I see what he was going for there and was interested even though it clashed badly with what the other writers were doing.

So yeah, I guess that's my answer. Rosenburg is my fav modern Jason writer so far and Winick remains the heavyweight champion of Jason writing overall.

My least favorite on the other hand isn't any of the usual suspects (Starlin, Morrison, and Lobdell)

Starlin seemed to want to write vicious, seedy thrillers about realistic serial killers and the worst that humanity has to offer and was instead stuck writing Batman and Robin lmao. Should he have just found other employment instead, or knuckled down and written to the tone of the material at hand? Probably! However, putting Batman and Robin in a world that was patently unfit for their type of heroics was interesting to read for me, and frankly, most of what I love about Jason wouldn't exist without it.

Morrison was certainly unfavorable to Jason, but using Jason and Dick as opposing ideas of what it means to be Batman is honestly really cool, and idk I think if you can get passed the aesthetics this version of him works.

Lobdell... might actually just be bad at writing entirely? But! Lobdell has a lot of good ideas and can write something that's fun. There are several more competently put together stories that I can't say the same of.

So yeah, it's none of them, because Cavan Scott was the one who wrote the worst rendition of Jason I've ever had the misfortune to read.

Even mother fucking Battle for the Cowl did a better job with Jason! Just by giving him character motivations and a reason to be in the plot! Titans United Jason is a complete asshole to everyone around him despite having reasons not to be. Like, not even for no reason! For negative three reasons!! There are many different roles he could have taken in this comic that would have been interesting, but instead he is "thug who insults Connor Kent and is generally useless and incompetent".

Though to be fair to him, Titans United was a tie in for a TV show that has very, very different histories for all of the characters involved. It was basically a commercial and as far as I can tell this author wasn't involved in the show or any of the characters outside of this one comic. It might honestly be unfair to call him a Jason Todd writer at all.

And if we don't count little one offs like that then... yeah I don't really know who my least favorite would be *shrug*

Anyhow I feel like I've rambled more than long enough, hope this was an interesting read and thank you thank you for sending the ask :3 !

[thepinkwriterr]

Capricorn Season Chapter Thirty

Table of Contents

Word Count: 3.6k

She liked the beard. He looked rugged, in his own special way. The appeal of his beauty was always the defiled innocence of his smooth face. When he told her that he was growing it out she thought he would look horrible. But when she saw him she didn't think that at all.

She was laying on her stomach on the bed, feet in the air, and kicking them like a schoolgirl. He was sitting on the floor in front of the mirror, doing his hair and getting ready for the day.

"Have I ever told you how much I love the beard?" She asked, locking eyes with his reflection.

He smiled and turned to look at her. "No, you haven't. I was getting a bit nervous that you hadn't said anything about it yet." "Well, I love it," she kissed the top of his head, "Now I've said something." "I'm glad you do. I think it looks nice." "You look like a sexy professor like that." She was referring to his outfit. He wore a white dress shirt, complete with ruffles, and a nice pair of trousers. "That's kind of the look I was going for. Scarf or no scarf?" He held up a green silk scarf. She thought it complimented his outfit well and told him so. He nodded and began to tie it. "You should try it like this." She reached her hands around his neck.

His breath hitched as her hands brushed against his skin. The scent of her filled his nose, an unmistakable smell that only she possessed. It was floral and vanilla. He always thought it was wonderful. He thought it could be a mix of her shampoo and deodorant.

"That looks marvelous, thank you." He spoke breathlessly.

They had been together for eight months and she still made him dizzy and fumbling. He couldn't deny her effect, didn't want to. She smiled sweetly and sat back on the pillows, continuing the reading of her book. How could she be so unceremonious, so laid back, when she was absolutely breathtaking?  She was stunning, certainly the most beautiful woman he had seen, but didn't seem to care. She thought this way about him too. She often thought how he didn't seem to be cognizant of how wonderful he really looked. Sometimes he was even insecure, which was always a laugh for her. The only time he looked poorly was when he chose a bad outfit, which she always had something to say about. "You need to change. A red scarf clashes with a yellow top and the plaid printed pants don't match anything you're wearing!" "No, the red scarf matches the red pants. There is yellow in my pants and yellow on my top. It goes together." "Fine, but you're the one who is going to look bad." "I don't look bad!" "That outfit is a disaster. I don't want you to leave the hotel like that." She was mostly joking, ending in a laugh. But it was true! He looked terrible. "Is this criticism or care?" "Care, I promise. Trust me, Jimmy, it looks bad." "I disagree." He shrugged, "And I'm wearing it to the show." "Alright, but it's your fashion funeral." His outfit today looked much better. His colors matched and he was presentable. "Love, I think you should start getting ready. We have to leave soon." "I think I'll just go like this." "Can I give you some fashion advice?" "Oh, no. Does my outfit look that poor?" She laughed.

He grimaced, gesturing to tell her "a little bit". "Fine, I'll change. What is the weather like?" "Hot. It's August." "Good point." 

She chose a pair of shorts and a short top. The shirt she wanted to wear was in Lorelei's possession. She didn't mind, because she had asked. Robert and Jimmy never did. Yesterday she caught Robert sifting through her clothes! "Um, what are you doing?" She had been watching him rifling through her things like a rat. He jumped at the sound of her voice.

"Oh, Jesus, you scared me!" "I ask again, what are you doing?" She shifted her weight and put her hand on her hip. "Looking for something to wear." "Can you at least ask? Jeez. What do you want?" "That flowery blouse you wore last week." "Robert, you can't fit in that!" "Yes, I can! I'm slim." "Fine," She threw the balled-up shirt at him, "but if you stretch it out I'm killing you." "I won't, I swear." He did. She looked at the blouse now, wearing a frown. It still fit, although now loose and frumpy. Perhaps she'd just have Richard do her laundry and he would shrink it for her. He was a lousy tour mother.

He took more of a liking to her than Grant but still didn't cater to her, but Jimmy did not enjoy the way he looked at and talked about her. He had made it clear from the first day she joined that he found her attractive. He first justified the uncomfortable interaction with the notion that she was a lovely girl and he would just have to get used to people finding her fit. But Richard took it too far-- as he often did. "Jimmy, you got the best out of all the guys. Don't tell them I said that." "What does that mean?" "She's a photographer, so she's good to keep in your back pocket, she's a looker, and sweet. The way she takes care of you...Man, I need to get one of those." "And what does that mean?" He asked with a raised brow. "Y'know, I need to get a girl like that. And with her figure-" "Rich! That's his girl." Bonzo spoke for Jimmy. "My bad." He laughed. Jimmy tried his best to shuffle his anger away but it didn't work. He could feel the ugly hands of jealousy creeping in. This wasn't helped when they went to a club and men seemed to overlook him, hitting on Gwen even when they were holding hands. He was getting angrier and more jealous by the day.

He brought this to her attention, telling her it was getting hard to handle. She laughed and scoffed, and shook her head. When he asked what was the matter, the bitter bite of anger rearing at her reaction, she told him, "I have to deal with women literally trying to tear your clothes off. Do you know how many women I see literally asking to sleep with you and shrugging me off? And they're not sloppy men in a club, they're beautiful women scantily dressed. Thousands of people cheer and scream for you every single night. Women pray to god for a chance to even touch you. You know how hard that is for me?" He had thought about this, of course, but he couldn't see how that was relevant at this moment. When he told her this she seemed angry.

"You're not listening to how I feel." He exerted.

"I am, I understand. But I'm telling you that you have to get over it. I have to."

"It's not the same." He crossed his arms and pouted.

"You're right, it's worse."

"I'm a celebrity. You agreed to date me. You knew what you were getting into."

"And I'm a pretty girl. You knew what you were getting into." She crossed her arms now. They were both pouting. They'd given up trying to have an adult conversation, instead resigning to childish behavior and scoffs.

She thought about this interaction as she put on her shoes. His logical fallacy was amusing to her now, simply a musing that was pushed into the past. They'd both learned to get over their silly feelings of jealousy. At least

she

had. She hoped he had, but didn't know how untrue her thoughts were.

That night, after the show, another fit would strike. The concert had gone well, not having any interruptions or issues. Gwen took some nice photos and had a great time. Their energy always inspired her and spurred her to take wonderful photos.

As they were entranced by the music flowering from their fingertips they struck natural poses. They tried their best to face the audience, partly for her frames, partly for the audience. It was hard, though, they were so tight-knit and worked best when it was just them. Their shows felt like jam sessions when they first started, but as the audiences grew, so did the space between them.

After the show, they went to a club, as was becoming usual. Some towns didn't have good clubs or parties and those were the nights they partied together. But this was Texas and the parties were

superb

, as Robert put it.

Gwen wore her shorts and top from earlier in the day and Lorelei was in a pretty dress. The guys had showered and changed, a short detour on their way to the club. She was not excited to be packed into a sweaty lounge with loud music. They'd just been in the same environment and she didn't know why they had to go back. She wanted to wind down with a nice shower and a good book after a show.

Perhaps they were too filled with adrenaline to be that calm. She knew about this rush, not only because they'd detailed it to her before, but because Jimmy was wired after a show. He was borderline manic, his eyes wide and his mouth going a mile a minute. It was a natural drug, one that gave his reserved personality a spark.

He was charged after a show, particularly his sex drive, which was insane when the lights went out. He had detailed to her how carnal performing was. And he proved it. They weren't even back to the hotel and he would be trying to rip her clothes off. She would protest, telling him they were in public. He would shrug and continue to kiss her. She pushed him back, further exerting that he was sweaty and stinky and would need to shower before she would even consider sleeping with him. Tonight was no different.

He wanted her more than ever. His eyes drifted to her exposed legs, long and taut. He transfixed his eyes on her chest, considering it as a resting place for his tired hands. When he attempted this she slapped his hand away.

How could one person get so sweaty? He was dripping buckets! He could perform stark nude and he'd still come out slippery and stinky. He was like a caught fish.

After he was fresh and cleaned off, she allowed him to kiss her. He gladly devoured her lips in a hungry display of virile fervor. She could rise a dead man from his tomb with those lips, he thought. He was grateful she let him kiss her. He was desperate for any kind of contact with her.

She laughed and told him to get that thing down before they got to the club. She stopped kissing him, despite his whimpering protests. He was staring at her as they walked into the club. She looked wonderful. Never before had she looked this way. Although, he thought that with each passing day. Her beauty grew, swelling until it reached a sweltering heat that choked him. She was far too beautiful to be real or to be his. He'd found an angel amongst men. Someone had begun to threaten this beauty. A man, a bumbling fool, was grabbing at her. They were on the dancefloor and Jimmy was not sharing. He saw Gwen's face, scared and wanting to hide away. Still drunk on adrenaline and filled with jealousy, Jimmy pushed the guy aside with heavy force. "I'm sorry about that, Darling. But you are mine once more." He smiled. This victory was short-lived. The man came back around quickly, angry with Jimmy. "She's my girlfriend. Fuck off." He did not mince words. He was drunk and malice dripped from his tongue. She could smell the whiskey from where she was standing. It was not an attractive sight.

"My apologies, man. I didn't know she had a man." "So you'll respect me now? Just because I have a man." She spoke loudly as to be heard over the music.

He looked at her with a disgruntled expression.

"Well? Are you just going to look at me like you're stupid?" She widened her eyes, looking at him with a furrowed brow.

"You're a bitch." He said simply, sneering with disgust. He couldn't believe she would be so brazen.

Jimmy sobered with those words, now stricken with fury. He was not a physical man and would not often resort to violence. "Don't speak to her that way. You need to leave, right now." His words were cutting, his eyes lowering into menacing slits.

"Are you going to make me, cheerios?" "What? That doesn't even make sense. And never mind that. I won't, but he will." Jimmy pointed him in the direction of Peter. Gwen now understood why having him in your corner was a good idea. When things got ugly you needed a guy like him. "You can leave on your own or his accord."

Jimmy's gaze got Peter's attention and he headed over to them in short strides. "This guy bothering you?" He asked, his voice was sharp and intimidating. His size was suddenly noticeable, his voice as round and sonorous as his body.

"Yeah," Jimmy said.

Without hesitation, Peter picked the guy up and threw him over his shoulder. He looked like a child, so small and defenseless in his grasp. This made Gwen laugh, loosening her grasp on Jimmy's arm. She had been clinging to him in fear. Random drunk men approaching her wasn't any less uncomfortable for her than it was for him.

"Are you alright, love?" Peter asked when he was back in their presence. He had thrown the guy on the pavement, placing him down haphazardly. He hadn't even broken a sweat.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Thank you." She smiled appreciatively. Who knows what would have happened if Peter hadn't come to her rescue? Jimmy wasn't exactly the burly type.

"Don't worry, girl, I'll always be here if that happens again." Peter clapped a surprisingly gentle hand on her shoulder and went back to his place next to Bonzo.

Jimmy turned back, gloating with a smile. Gwen was not as happy. She was filled with bitterness. A mixture of her discomfort and a general disdain for her environment was making her unhappy. Her mind couldn't help but wander to all of these uncomfortable places. Her discomfort was palpable as she stared into space. The familiar feeling of strange hands made her insides cringe. She pushed her feelings down and tried to get through this unbearable night. The club was not a place to fight.

-

The next morning her anger erupted. It must have been building all night, stacking up while she slept. She could feel the weight of her dread when she woke. It was a metric ton of bricks on her chest. She didn't want to bother Jimmy this early in the morning. Not only was she angry and bitter, but anxious about letting it out. She didn't want to bite his head off but also didn't want to suppress it.

She could still feel those terrible hands on her body. It made her skin erupt into a flaming rash of anxiety. Her breathing was heavy and labored. Her limbs could not stop fidgeting. What seemed like a small advance lead to a shattering of her mental state. That man was not trying to flirt, he intended to shake her.

And she was shaken. She trembled like a leaf throughout the night and into the light stretch of the morning sun. Breakfast did not help. Bonzo was especially nasty that day. Before she'd even gotten down to eat he was talking shit. She heard him talking to Robert, saying one of the worst things she'd ever heard about herself. "She's a carpenter's wet dream. Flat like a board and in need of a screw." He bellowed with a guttural laugh. She could hear the smile in his voice.

Her first instinct was to pounce. But she didn't. She waited. She wanted to hear what everyone would say. Robert spoke first, "Bonzo, that is horrible."

Jimmy and Jonesy said nothing.

Last night was bad enough, to be treated as an object and only defended for some cheap honor. Jimmy wasn't defending her, he was defending his manhood. How dare someone touch his precious doll that sat on his little shelf? His reluctance, rather than his refusal, to defend her in a meaningful way was shown to her. He said nothing when it mattered.

Her face contorted with the weight of betrayal. She wasn't so hurt by what Bonzo said, but more so by Jimmy's silence. This had far surpassed a few teasing comments. Bonzo hated her, hated Jimmy's girlfriend and he didn't seem to care.

They turned at the sound of her shuffling feet in the doorway. They saw her pained expression. This pleased Bonzo. He was content to know his shot had landed on the target.

He got a twisted pleasure from hurting her. It was a special treat for a lone audience. On the days that he imbibed early in the morning, he attacked her.

She turned away with hot tears brewing on her lashline, quiet steps rushing from the scene.

The room was quiet now. They shuffled their eyes, passing awkward glances around. Robert broke the tension, as he often did. He found it hard to always be the peacekeeper, the jester, and the pretty one. But these roles needed to be filled, and he was multifaceted.

"You should go talk to her."

Jimmy grimaced and burned in hot anger. Who was Robert to tell him what he should do with his own girlfriend? He knew what was best for his relationship! But he stood with a huff and went to their room.

When he was out of their sight he broke into a fast-paced walk. He knew he was in trouble, he knew he was in the wrong. Perhaps that's why things played out the way they did. He didn't want to be wrong. He would rather die than apologize.

He was on her heels, in the room before she could even shut the door.

When he entered she just looked at him. She was overcome with feelings.

She just wanted to scream at him. "Gwen-" "Don't. Just don't. I don't want some half-assed apology." "I'm sorry." "I said I don't want it. I'm sick of you not standing up for me. Do you know how embarrassing that is? I heard what he said." She tried her best to remain calm. "I just don't know what to say." "You sure knew what to say last night." "What does that mean?" His expression was causing anger to churn inside her. It was a poorly plugged drain. The stopper was beginning to lose its seal and she soon would explode. "You can defend me when your honor is in question. This has never been about me, it's been about your ego. When your ego is concerned, you will say something. You don't care about me! You only care about yourself." Her voice raised in pitch as she spoke. "We're having this conversation again? That is not true! And you know it isn't. It's not the same when it's your friend." "Robert stood up for me. It's clearly not an issue for him." "What are you implying?" "Nothing." "Oh, c'mon, you were so brazen before. Don't be so shy now." "No, I didn't mean anything by it. He stood up for me and you didn't." "I think you meant something entirely different." "Like what?" She prodded.

She had waded into dangerous territory. No longer was this an argument about the topic at hand. They were taking jabs at one another due to unspoken feelings. She could feel the energy shifting to something nasty.

"I used to think Robert was just flirting with you because he's a whore, but now I see the truth. He's in love with you!" "In love with me? Jimmy, was just sticking up for me. You couldn't even do that." "No, you don't get it. Men don't do nice things for women unless they want something from them. He wants to take you to bed." "You sound crazy!" "I'm crazy? You're the one yelling at Bonzo and getting an attitude with me!" "Well, I think you have a problem with Robert because you feel inferior. You think he's more of a man than you and you're worried he's going to take me from you." "Maybe if you didn't dress that way he wouldn't be throwing himself all over you. Maybe Grant would take you more seriously." "I cannot fucking believe you. You've reached a new low." Her tone dropped, laying flat where her emotions lie.

She was hurt. She knew this wasn't how he truly felt, he was trying to hurt her. With nothing left to say, she left the room. Their room was no longer a place where love could be facilitated. She had to escape.

She left Jimmy's grasp immediately and directly to Robert's room. She placed three sharp knocks on the door.

It revealed a damp Lorelei. Her curls were stringy and wet, dangling down at her cheeks. Her face and arms were flecked with drops of water.

"Hey, girl, is everything alright?" She asked, scrunching her hair with a white towel. She had another one wrapped around her torso.

Gwen stepped in with apprehension. "Lore, there's something I need to tell you." She stood in the doorway, a look on her face that scared Lorelei.

----

Taglist:

@anothercanyonlady​ , @jonesyjonesyjonesy​   @paginate54 , @seventieswhore , @jimmypages , @jimmys-zeppelin​ , @jimmysdragonsuit13    

[nerdyvocals]

I'll Cut My Hair (To Make You Stare)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/F

Fandom: Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies (TV)

Relationship: Lydia/Cynthia Zdunowski

Characters:, Cynthia Zdunowski, Papa Zdunowski, Jane Facciano, Olivia Valdovinos, Lydia (Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies)

Additional Tags: Fic Exchange, hair cutting fic, cutting someone's hair can be so sapphic, The Pink Ladies know, Sleepovers, closet makeouts, they deserve normal high school experiences dammit, minor language, meet the parents, first "i love you's", Cooking Dinner Together, what if I shove a bunch of tropes into one fic, who would stop me, hair is an important part of Cynthia Zdunowski's identity, Fluffy, Cynthia Zdunowski has sensory issues, Betaed

Language: English

Collections: Lynthia Fic Gift Exchange 2023

Stats: Published: 2023-10-02, Words: 7,610, Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Your appearance is the ultimate expression of who you are, and something as simple as a haircut can change your life.

(Title from "This is Home" by Cavetown.)

Notes: For penguinwritesbooks.

My only instruction was to have fun, and boy did I! Penguin, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

When the ends of her hair touch the base of her neck, Cynthia knows it’s time for a haircut.

To be fair, there are other signs as well, many of which that come well before this point, but haircuts were a tedious chore, and the problem with these early signs was that they were easy to ignore. Cynthia liked her hair cropped short; a little shaggy around the ears, with bangs that fell just to her brow. Whenever her bangs encroach on her vision, it was a sign she needed a trim. But she could steal grease from the boys to push them back, and she wouldn’t notice. The next sign came when her ears disappeared fully under the mass of strands. But she could tuck the wayward locks behind her ears and forget their length.

The back of her head, however, was hard to ignore when overgrown. She didn’t pay it much attention at any other time. She couldn’t see the back of her own head, so why should she concern herself with what it looked like? But overgrown was another story. Overgrown meant itchy strands creeping under her collar, brushing across the nape of her neck, scuttling across her skin like phantom bugs, and sending horrible little shivers down her spine.

So when she woke to that familiar, creeping scratch, she knew it was time. But of course, the thought came along with the realization that she’d forgotten to set her alarm clock the night before, and now had a mere ten minutes to sprint out the door if she wanted to make it to school on time. Somehow, she didn’t think she could fit a haircut in that window.

Cynthia jolted out of bed with a start and flew to her closet, grabbing and shimmying into the first shirt and skirt her hands touched; a horrible clash of color and pattern that Nancy was sure to give her shit for later. From there, she hopped down the hall to the bathroom, pulling socks she hoped were clean over her feet as she went, vaguely aware of the phone ringing and her dad’s voice answering. In the bathroom, she squeezed a drop of Ipana onto her toothbrush from a tube that was long past the point of needing to be replaced. She scrubbed at her teeth for approximately three seconds before spitting the foam down the sink. Reaching for her comb, she spared herself a glance at her reflection in the mirror, and yeah, she definitely needed that haircut.

The sides of her hair almost reached her chin. Or at least the right side did; the left side was sticking straight up where she slept on it. Her bangs were long enough to be ruffled by a particularly strong huff of breath. She didn’t want to think about what was happening in the back at this point. If she had a hair ribbon, she wouldn’t be surprised if she was able to tie at least part of it up in the world’s worst ponytail. This was, without a doubt, the longest her hair had been in years. How had she let it come to this?

Continue reading on AO3

[aliensunflower-fics]

CHANGING FACES Chapter 4: Breaking The News

[ Prefer to read on Archive of Our Own? Link HERE! ]

[ Previous Chapter - Next Chapter ]

After years of dealing with each other Lila Rossi win’s when she  convinces Hawkmoth that Marinette is Ladybug. In order to throw off  suspicion and keep the Miracle Box safe Marinette and her supportive parents leave Paris and head to Gotham of all places. In this new place  away from her friends and her unhealthy routines Marinette is forced to  confront herself and change for the better. Helping her on her journey  is a surprising new friend and potential ally. When Alya missing her  friend learns about the chance to win a free trip to Gotham she  convinces the class to work hard to qualify. When her new life clashes  with her old one will Marinette be able to hold on strong to her new  confidence or will she crumble under the pressure?

( This fic will be for the most part comedic, fluffy, and sweet, with only a bit of seriousness to tie it together. With only the mildest salt  because I don’t think the class or Adrien are bad people just that they  can be naive and selfish thanks to the canon writing. I hope you enjoy  reading this work and have fun with me on this journey. )

CHAPTER 4:

Breaking The News

Marinette had not felt so hopeful in years. Glancing up from her phone and cheap hotel breakfast she watched Tikki rub her tired eyes as she perched on the burnt and blackened metal sewing machine that acted as the hiding place for the miracle box, Tikki noticed her watching and shot her a warm smile that set the teen at ease and she returned to her phone call with her dearest  ‘Gotham Family’ as they planned out her new room together.

 Marinette had not spoken of them often in public but Tikki knew of them from the phone calls Marinette had throughout the years. Alfred was Marinette’s godfather and honorary grandpa; he was a close friend of her grandparents and had a secretive past. He was kind and wise with a knack for reading people. He had practically helped raise Tom and the family had remained close regardless of the long distance. And when Marinette was born he had been there just the same, and through the years he had come for visits and phoned often enough that Marinette called him family.

 Alfred had many honorary grandchildren having never settled down himself but he loved them just the same. Out of his ‘brood’ however Marinette only knew 2 of them from when Alfred was still able to visit regularly. They were her ‘big brothers’ Dick and Jason. Alfred had taken them to Paris several times when Marinette was younger, they had held her when she was a baby, played tea party and dress up when she was a little girl. The visits had stopped when Jason got kidnapped and was presumed dead but Dick and Alfred still stayed in touch through emails and frequent calls. And when Jason was finally found and his memories recovered he also started phoning again too. 

 Marinette loved her Gotham family (even if she was a little annoyed they never told her about her parents' time living there or her being born there) and she often talked about meeting the rest of Alfred’s grandkids and his ‘kid’ Bruce but the 3 of them always had an excuse. 

 Jason would often talk about his old man being horrible and Marinette worried that maybe this ‘Bruce’ wasn't as nice as Alfred said he was. When she asked however Jason denied it stating that it was more a disagreement of principles and that they were working on it in therapy. She knew it was a sore subject and dropped it instead choosing to chat about their other points of interest. They'd binge watch bad tv dramas together through video call and Jason would send book recommendations. On bad days where his past trauma resurfaced he'd send Marinette clown emojis to signify it was a ‘clown day’ and she’d send him pictures of ugly clothing being sold and they’d text back and forth tearing the cheap designs apart. 

 Dick would counter her questions by whining that Marinette wanted to replace them and that he and Jason didn't want to share her. He’d pout and tease and joke and soon Marinette would forget about meeting the rest of the family until their next phone call. Eventually Dick DID cave to Marinette’s puppy eyes and introduced her to his girlfriend who eventually became fiancee then wife (who Marinette happily designed a dress for when asked) and now Marinette got regular calls with Dick his wife and their adorable little daughter Ma’ri. She loved being called “Aunty bug” even if the nickname had originally given her a heart attack (Tikki had said it was her fault for making Ma’ri a giant plush Ladybug) and she grinned when Dick told her how her gifts always won over all the rest of the families' pricey presents. 

 Alfred should have been the reasonable one of the bunch and Marinette often tried to ask when she’d meet the rest of his family only for him to skillfully dodge the subject and distract her before she could properly ask. After the hundredth time of him dodging she finally managed to ask and Alfred had sighed before finally telling her honestly that after Jason’s kidnapping things had only gotten more complicated with the family dynamic and many new additions had made things delicate. If he ever introduced Marinette to the rest of the family he hoped it would be under better terms and in person. That conversation had been when Marinette was 10 and 6 years later she made sure to never ask again trying to respect her Gotham family's privacy and emotional needs.

 But things were changing soon because in a month's time Marinette and her family would be American citizens. The old bakery her parents still owned in Gotham was getting a fresh coat of paint and some updates and repairs to make it Dupain-Cheng worthy. Gina had moved to Gotham temporarily to see to the renovations personally with Alfred. When Jason found out he volunteered to help fix up the ‘home’ portion with new paint and appliances though it was clear he was showing his favoritism when he jokingly texted the group chat a picture of paint options for the living room all various shades of pink. From Jason’s blatantly suspicious behavior, Dick and his family found out about the big move and they ALSO insisted on helping. 

 Which led to Marinette and her poor overworked cell phone handling many calls about furniture paint and more. It was chaotic and messy but somehow it was also fun and relaxing and the pictures she got of a paint war aftermath with both Dick and Jason coated in pink paint with a victorious and spotless Ma’ri and Kori grinning in the background made Marinette all the more certain of her decision to leave Paris. 

 Her parents were glowing as they planned their new larger and better bakery. Sure Marinette’s mom occasionally broke into hate filled violent rants about the exact gruesome ways she planned on ‘punishing’ Hawkmoth (because death was apparently to merciful an end) and her dad still sighed at old pictures of there home but they were both ready to take on this new journey and regalled Marinette with tales of there life in Gotham and the friends they made.

 The kwami were also delighted by news of the move, talking about the safety hiding in a new place would provide and how their guardian was glowing with new energy and positivity. Kalki was preening at the news they would be getting out more often. But out of them all Wayzz had been a bit more cryptic saying that Gotham would welcome her as much as she welcomed it he then insisted they begin teaching her magic. Now THAT had been a surprise. Sure she was already training with Amazonians but actual magic?! 

 Marientte was skeptical at first, sure that training her in magic would only end in destruction and failure, her anxiety ridden mind sabotaging her before she even tried. But The kwami were buzzing about the idea and so Marinette gave it a try, surprised at how natural it felt to her once she started. She had not done anything big yet, just simple things like locating talking to the kwami with her mind instead of her voice and changing the appearance of some of the miraculous to look more modern and easier to hide. Well Marinette thought these things were pretty major but according to the kwami it was simple for a guardian of her caliber.

 But amidst all the phone calls, excitement, hotel living, magic training, Hawkmoth cursing and more Marinette had been pushing aside one rather ugly little task that she wanted to avoid for as long as she could.

 She had yet to tell her friends.

 With how busy she was it should have been easy to forget about it, but she hadn't if anything it was a thorn constantly pressing into her side. Every phone call about paint and furniture, every joke with her Gotham family and excited happy smile they shot her, every conversation or decision Marinettemade, she felt the sting. She was scared. She was terrified. She was guilty.

 There was of course the fear of losing her friends but more than losing them she feared DISAPPOINTING them. She feared their upset faces, their teary eyes, their pleading voices asking her if she really had to leave them, asking her to stay, asking her to be there everyday ladybug forever. 

 Marinette loved her friends, really she did. They were good, kind, honest people. But they always made her feel so GUILTY. So trapped by her own anxieties and their expectations that the word ‘no’ felt like a sin on her lips. They relied on her expected of her, they depended on her and each attempt to turn them down had them drowning her in guilt while Adrien looked at her with disappointment and Lila grinned and whispered words that only made the guilt worse. 

 Marinette loved her friends, but she knew a part of their friendship had become toxic.

 Worse, she knew that it wasn’t entirely Lila’s fault. Certainly the fox-like girl had not helped matters with how she wielded guilt like a weapon of war. She had perfected the art of whipping the class up getting them to ask her questions that tore into her tender heart.

 “But why can't you help Marinette?”

 “You know how much this means to me?”

 “You know how much I need help?”

 “Don't you care about us Marinette?”

 “Real friends would help.” 

 “Lila offered to help so why can't you?”

 Marinette had worn herself to the bone helping her friends. She was use to saying yes without a thought and when she inevitably crashed or needed help herself Lila was there again whispering words that made her friends doubt her. But her classmates and Lila were not the only one responsible, so was Marinette. She had never tried to talk to them, never tried to sit them down and tell them honestly about her own feelings, she let them use her and called it love and friendship because she was so scared that saying ‘no’ would mean losing them all. 

 With only a month left until she got on a plane and started a new chapter of her life, Marinette knew she owed it to her friends to tell them. Sure she would still see them regularly as Ladybug since Hawkmoth loved targeting her school and classmates but it would not be the same. She could not hang out with them as Ladybug. Tikki had even asked if she wanted to tell Alya about her being Ladybug but Marinette was not ready for that just yet. Especially not when Hawkmoth clearly had an interest in Marinette Dupain-Cheng. 

 As Marinette alarm rang she ended the call with Jason telling him in no uncertain terms that he was NOT to buy her the stupidly expensive pink laptop he found and that she would get herself a new one once she moved to Gotham with her own money. He gave a devious smile and Marinette groaned in frustration as she hung up the call and shoveled the last of her cheap hotel breakfast into her mouth and gathered her things to go to school. Her parents were already out that morning to get paperwork sorted and arranged for the big move. 

 Tikki zipped into Marinette’s bag and she left the hotel room locking it safely behind her before jogging down past the receptionist who she waved to eagerly and out of the hotel to catch the train to school. On her way to school Marinette’s mind raced as she thought of how to break the news to her friends. She knew Mme. Bustier would not keep quiet about it forever, it was frankly a miracle that the teacher had not exploded keeping the news to herself for so long. 

 Getting off at her stop and then walking to school Marinette saw several of her classmates arriving to school including Adrien who shot her a smile as he got out of his car. The sight of his dazzling smile made Marinette’s stomach flutter briefly before those butterflies got squashed by Lila exiting the car right after Adrien and latching herself to the blonde's arm with a happy giggle. 

 Marinette didn’t really like Adrien anymore. Sure she still thought he was the cutest guy ever and felt flustered by his bright green eyes. But the past few years had created a massive gap in their relationship and there were some things Marinette could not forgive him for even if the blonde himself was utterly oblivious. Shaking off her thoughts, Marinette focused on her mission and stole her heart for what lay ahead ignoring the feeling of eyes on her.

 As Marinette made her way to class she heard the chattering of her classmates and her heart rate increased. She felt like she was going to be sick and the only thing keeping her grounded was the feeling of Tikki’s warmth pressing into her side from the purse. Stepping into the classroom Marinette stopped at the front and waited for everyone to be there. This was common for her as she was the class president and as her classmates noticed her one by one they stopped talking to look at her expectant smiles plastered on their faces. 

 Was she going to be announcing a fundraiser to rebuild her family's bakery? Or maybe a fun new trip for the class to go on? What if it was news about the back to school fall bash? Or maybe Lila’s petition to save the polar bears had been approved by Damocles? As the whispers and hushes of excitement grew and the last of Marinette’s classmates scurried into the room and quickly took a seat Marinette took a shaky breath and focused on the back wall unable to look any of her friends in the eye.

 “Good morning guys.” Her mouth was dry and she tried desperately to swallow. “As I’m sure you're all aware, a week ago my family's bakery… Burned down. In an accident.” 

 A ripple of whispers went through the class and Marinette put on a fake smile to try and put her friends at ease as she licked her dry lips nervously.

 “My family has been living in a hotel and after a lot of thought we decided to move-” 

 A loud bunch of chattering cut Marinette off mid sentence as her classmates all chittered excitedly about the move. Would they get a bigger bakery? Would they further out into the city? Marinette cleared her throat, regaining her classmates' attention.

 “We decided to move… To America.”

 There was a brief few moments of silence before the whole room exploded into a cacophony of noise. Between the screaming and screeching of chairs and tables and people, Marinette could just barely make out questions of ‘why’ and ‘where’ and ‘she can't be serious?’. In the chaos before her Marinette could not help but notice the look of horror frozen on Adrien’s face. The utter shock and disbelief on Chloe’s as she yelled and argued with those around her arguing it was her fault. The betrayal and near tears of Alya. The confusion and disbelief of Nino. But most of all she could not help but notice the smirk on Lila’s lips and the way her eyes looked down on Marinette in that moment. It sent a shiver of cold up Marinette’s spine and she quickly looked away biting her lip as she filed the information away for later.

 For now Marinette knew she should try to regain control of the class and she tried several times calling for them to listen only for her voice to drown in the sea of confusion she’d helped make. As her desperation mounted so did her frustration until finally she pursed her lips and whistled LOUD. The high pitched sound cut through the confusion and her classmates clapped their mouths shut to cover their ears instead. After the last voice died Marinette took a deep breath and lifted her head ready to face her friends and all the guilt they could throw her way.

 Rose struck first teary eyed and wailing. “T-This isn't a funny joke Marinette!”

 Ouch a tough one right off the bat. Swallowing her guilt and stealing her heart, Marinette faced Rose honestly and openly as her friend. 

 “It's not a joke, Rose. It was a hard choice to make but it's what my family decided was best for us.” 

 “But why?” Marinette’s heart clenched as she turned to face Alya the girl was looking at her like Marinette had just torn her heart out and stepped on it. 

 Marinette bit back her tears and took deep calming breaths reminding herself to be strong as she answered her best friend. 

 “My parents… They wanted to move to America even before Hawkmoth arrived. But they stayed for my sake because I have friends here. But now Hawkmoth is getting more dangerous each day and then the fire… It was just the last straw. They don't think I’m safe here anymore.”

 Silence filled the class as everyone considered her words. None of them wanted Marinette to leave but none of them could argue with such a reason. Many of their own families had thought about leaving Paris at one point in the last few years thanks to Hawkmoths reign. The fact that one family had finally been pushed to do just that was inevitable really. 

 “B-but.” Alya stood from her seat fighting back tears. “But… But… We're going to miss you.”

 Marinette felt herself suck in her breath as her face went hot and her eyes began to burn with fresh hot tears. As she tried to get her feelings under control she saw Alya wipe her eyes and that was all it took for Marinette to let out a sob. 

 “I… I'M GOING TO MISS YOU GUYS TOO!” 

 As Marinette desperately wiped away her tears and rubbed her eyes she felt her resolve break a little. 

 “I-I promise to phone a-all the time! And we c-can do movie nights o-over Discord! A-and I will s-send you guys gifts all the t-time! W-We can still be friends!” 

 Suddenly strong warm arms wrapped around Marinette breaking her out of her spiral as she removed her hands from her eyes she saw Alya holding on to her tightly.

 “Of course w-were still gonna be your friends! Paris, America or the North Pole, you're not getting rid of us that easily!” 

 Marinette felt her breath hitch and fresh tears fill her eyes as she hugged back within seconds most of the rest of the class joined in on the group hug and they held each other and made promises of how they would all stay in contact and continue to hang out. It was enough to certainly stop any of Hawkmoth butterflies before they had a chance. 

 As the hug broke off Marinette wiped her wet eyes and smiled shakily at the class. No one was happy but they also were not akuma bait anymore so it was a win. As the class chattered more about ways they could hang out with Marinette through a computer the good vibes were suddenly interrupted by Lila subtly clearing her throat. 

 “Oh i'm so sorry for interrupting guys I’m just desperate to know WHERE In America you're moving Marinette? Being a diplomat's daughter I lived there for a bit myself!”

 Marinette felt her body stiffen at Lila’s honey covered words. The Italian had been strangely docile since the fire. Marinette was torn between trying to decide if Lila was taking pity on her or planning something and now with the strange smile and glint in her eyes Marinette was sure of it. As the class urged Marinette to tell them more, the baker girl focused on building her alibi; she didn't want Lila to have any room to turn things around and somehow make things about herself.

 “We're moving to Gotham actually. Apparently my parents met there and I was even born there. They are very excited to be moving back after all these years.” 

 The second the words ‘gotham’ left Marinette’s lips Lila’s eyes widened and her body went rigid. But it only lasted a second and when Marinette blinked Lila was smiling again and looked relaxed. 

 “Gotham? Oh I spent a few years there actually! But Marinette, are you sure your family will be okay? It's sooo dangerous there.”

 As the class excitedly asked Lila for more information Marinette felt her brows furrow. The details Lila was able to give as she answered the eager questions was more than she would normally ever give when she lied so Marinette felt inclined to believe it. Her strange reaction was another clue. But it was all very strange and something about Lila’s overall attitude since the fire had her instinct flaring up.

 As Mme. Bustier finally entered the class and the students all scurried to their desks. As Marinette took her seat in the back she let out a deep breath. Things had gone better than she could have hoped. And while her heart still weighed heavy in her chest, the fact that her friends were ready to make an effort to keep her in their lives was good. Lila had also been strangely merciful. Marinette had expected the girl to try and spin Marinette’s move as being a result of the grudge or to try and make the class turn on Marinette with feelings of betrayal. But if anything Lila’s restraint was only more suspicious, her obvious joy at Marinette leaving, and her reaction to Gotham all of it just raised more questions.

 As Bustier called on Marinette to help pass out papers for the class the girl let her thoughts slip away. She’d think more about it later. For now she wanted to enjoy one of her last days in Paris with her friends.

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[korrasgonefishing]

On fem!Mako and femininity

Some things that every girl seems to get just don't stick with Mako - makeup smudges easily and perfume clashes horribly with her firebending (you wouldn't want to know how it smells when it's lit). She decides to grow out her hair. It seems pretty simple to do and to take care of, and maybe when it grows long enough she could tie it up in a top knot to connect with her fire nation heritage just a little bit more.

This goes pretty well at the station, no one comments much. The rudest collegues who want to point and laugh that "the rookie finally remembered that she's a girl" feel chef Beifong glaring at them miles away and stop, settling for a neutral compliment or nothing at all. She is nicely surprised to know that her hair is actually curly. Nothing bad. That until her hair reach shoulder length. Mako catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror and gets a horrible unexplainable feeling. It's so strong she can't bear to look at herself. She rushes to the hairdresser (she would usually cut it herself, but not after Lin has recommended her a hairdresser - she can't not respect that) and tells them to cut it short but keep it a little bit longer in the back. This works and she doesn't think about growing her hair out again. The next time she and Asami meet on their lunch breaks, Asami is shocked that a fashion choice this bizarre actually looks good on Mako.

When grandma Yin shows her and Bolin a photograph of their parents, she finally gets what exactly that feeling was.

[santaresistencia]

Some highlights and notes from my sea of monsters reread:

This is so sad to me. Poor Tyson 😔

Not Olympus profiting off CHB 😂 I’m choosing to believe the ban on Cokes is from Dionysus specifically. Also love to think of the whole black market the Hermes kids have going on in there.

Love that they're all just one giant brutal dysfunctional immortal family.

More Perseus parallels!!

The Thalia/Percy parallels are immaculate. I really like that both of their journeys run parallel to each other. Thalia was a forbidden child of the big three, Thalia was intensely loyal to her friends (so much so that she died for it), both Percy and Thalia hold justifiable anger and an irreverence for the gods. But Thalia denies the prophecy and chooses to become immortal (to save her friends) while Percy purposefully chooses the prophecy and denies immortality (to save his friends). It's one of the reasons they clash so much in later books - they are way too alike.

I like to think about what monsters are linked to what chains in the Riordanverse. Do demigod kids have to fight off sirens everytime they go to Starbucks? What horrible monstrosity is McDonalds tied to?

Little does Percy know how badly he screwed Reyna and Hylla over.

I love this whole theme of demigods straddling both worlds and how it makes them more powerful than the gods even - they have a freedom that gods don't, they have the ability to choose.

This whole quote is like the basis for Rick's worldbuilding going forward - monsters, gods, and heroes all stuck in an endless cycle of death and rebirth, order and chaos. With heroes as the ones bearing the brunt of it, having to kill or be killed by monsters, having to go on quests for the gods as their champions. And the idea that gods can be changed after a millennia of stasis is truly radical, that Percy makes them swear to change and believes that they can - it's a nice bookend to the series and a nice way to tie the overall theme of the story - that then gets lost when every book set after TLO muddles the message and has the gods falling back into their destructive patterns - and ultimately making the idea that they can be better read hollow, but more on that later...

And just how great is that one line - "You carry the hopes of humanity into the realm of the eternal."

Over all SoM is in my opinion the weakest of the five books, but its also the shortest and establishes a couple of scenes that are pivotal to the plot down the line (the fleece, Thalia, Annabeth's siren vision, Hermes + Luke).

rating: Sea of Monsters⭐3.5/5

[popawritter12]

I am curious can I request this scenario. What if all the darlings in the blood moon au meet.

Author's notes: Don't ask, I explain the reason for so much absence in another publication.

Dreams

The world of dreams; so deep, lost, and even confused in their own essence, they were lost, searching for something specific. Something that should never have been seen in itself.

The clash between claws and flesh along with the terror reflected in the faces of others; Is this ostentatious, at the same time disgusting dream, a simple memory of the group's misery?

—So… he's the new one, right? —The question escaped from the one who arrived second —, it doesn't look very… Good.

—I heard that the one who was chasing him was the same one who brought the demons to this world.

—Poor man. —The second hunter mentioned, observing the first, distant memories of his childhood take him back to the day when his demon condemned him.

—He had the worst fate of all. —-The dancer whispered, taking the porcelain cup between his delicate fingers.

—Who would have thought that he would have to become that demon? — Whispered the second arrived, before taking the plate in his hands.

The inveterate fight, stained by the strong emotion suffered by the first hunter, caused, in part, a great surprise on the part of the first.

—Seriously, you're a damn bastard… —The first one whispered, the edge of the blade barely managing to collide with the demon's skin—, not even Talon was as savage as you in fights.

The demon growled, a mitigating memory crashing into his delicate, corrupt mind.

Talon…that name, that nickname, that demon. Why was the hunter mentioning it?

—It seems you recognize his name, huh? —The hunter pushed the demon with a thrust, finally managing to cut his cheek, causing the demon to recoil—you must know a lot about the cult to recognize it.

The demon screamed something unintelligible, before taking his head; wounded, he remembered the countless books he read, the sleepless nights turning each page and researching with as much passion as that of an expert butcher tracing newly arrived calf meat.

—That… damn motherfucker. —his own demonic voice reminded him of what Pyke did to him, causing a scream to escape his lips.

—He's already remembering what he did to him.

—It must hurts him a lot. —the dancer whispered, sighing.

—Especially when someone he trusted ended up doing that to him. —The second hunter mentioned, his gaze traveling over the detailed outline of the demon's body, a grotesque vision for his eyes and a coarse memory of what today was the perpetrator of it.

Was this a simple punishment for them for their previous life or for the sins they had committed? They are not going to know, Or at least none of them know it and much less will the demon who was still committing with claws and teeth looking for an answer looking for a result to what he foolishly thought will end well to what some once he called a friend, now it turned out to be a super nightmare, it turned out to be the person who condemned him to this horrible life and now even in his dreams, which were the only moments in which he could remember his life as a traveling salesman who was guided by singing, it turned out to be a memory. more than what he now was: a demon, a creature that lost all connection with his human side and desperately searches for some trace to become himself again to find that lost side that was taken from him and cruelly killed by that demon.

—I guess we all make the same mistake, —the second whispered, before sighing with some pain, nostalgic, so to speak.

—Don't make me into your mistakes —the first one shouted, before managing to take the chain in his hands, with subtle preparation, he managed to tie the demon, although receiving a scratch on his left eye —, Talon chased me because he's a selfish bastard, if he decided to trust a Blood Moon demon, then he must have paid the price.

The dancer looked at him, a hint of disgust appeared on his face.

—How great did the price have to be, that took even his humanity with it? —The young man questioned, before lowering his gaze. The loneliness he felt throughout his life was such that it forced him to invoke a demon, to look for some humanity behind the superficial life of the stage. The dancer turned around when he saw the hunter, and only had that brave look that few others had. times in his life — and you know well that none of us thought that a demon could fall in love.

—You dealt with cultists —the first hunter complained, before kicking the body of the bound demon —, both he and I dealt with fucking demons.

—And that's why I thought you had a little more empathy —the third whispered, before continuing to drink the tea —, but I was wrong."

—Brave of you to assume that I will have empathy for a moron. —the hunter responded abruptly.

—What did we say about saying bad words?

—Talon lets me say them.

—We are not demons.

—AND?

As the argument between the first hunter and the dancer intensifies, the second hunter approaches the demon, who, in pain, tr

He tries to push him away by growling, but the second hunter settles down in front of him, ready to speak.

—Don't tell me you're going to try to talk to him.

—Stop being unbearable.

—Only when you stop acting like a mother.

—Shut up —the second hunter complained, before seeing the demon again—, hello, you must be the singer of that religion.

The demon growled, showing its pointed teeth, yellowish and with traces of fresh blood.

—I saw you once, you were known as “the angel of the Andes,” right? —The second hunter asked, his serene voice invading the mind of the corrupted singer —. Truth be told, it seemed like every place you went in Runeterra was unique because of your presence alone.

The second hunter brought back bitter memories for the poor singer, from the first places where people first heard his voice, to the last place he had visited. Bitter smiles on his face countless times, tears from the emotion of each visit, even anger at seeing the state of the people whose leaders were as selfish as that demon, like that son of a bitch who ruined his life.

The more he mentioned it, the more he elaborated or his way of telling what it was like for the hunter to listen to the jugs of pure love for music brings to life the bitter return to the past; knowing that he couldn't come back. And his soul begged to return, to return even for a small second to that place that had brought him so much happiness.

But he only managed to sob; His voice seemed to return slowly, but the clock in the distance announced the time of his farewell; the mental break was over, and now they all had to return to that comic tragedy of life.

And yet, in the distance, a man with a leather backpack on his back and a smile of happiness spread in his eyes as he hummed songs from his childhood, looks at the clock, a rustic shape reminds him of his home, of his city. , but, even more importantly, it reminds him that his search for his destiny was still in the midst of development,

And the farewell began; with a look of some anger, but a certain affection —which the few present there knew how to differentiate—was reflected in that look. They still remember how comforting it was to know that even for a second of their lives, they could rest, they could give their tormented souls a little break from their stressful and painful lives.

While the perpetrators slowly approach their victims again, misnamed "loves", they do not even manage to give words to the poor humans who woke up again.

While the dancer returned to see the burly man with a serene but at the same time always annoyingly calm face, a bitter but resigned grimace spreads across his face full of dark circles. The first hunter wakes up violently because he feels an extra weight on his chest; The demon had jumped like a puppy towards his owner, and when his cursed laughter reached the hunter's ears, he only clicked his tongue, annoyed, but helpless. And the second hunter observed the swordsman, the question of his dream comforts him a little; He knew that of all of them, he had gotten the least invasive of all.

And the last of all, the poor last of all, only woke up to see that, once again, the mysterious demon that had caused him so much pain was almost on top of him, asking again and again how he was doing, or why he was asleep.

It was strange, especially knowing that the dream seemed to revive the human side of him like he had never seen before.

And in a fit of forceful rage, the singer leaped again at the demon, his claws appearing again. And the cooker, the only one who didn't seem to understand the reason for the dream, woke up with a letter next to him; blood stains giving the shape of a heart while a smell of excellent quality perfume adorned with a bouquet of well-cared-for flowers send a chill down your spine.

Who would have put that there?

[chellyfishing]

So I’m on the last book in the villains & virtues trilogy by AK Caggiano which I am absolutely loving and I just real quick wanted to talk about something the author has been doing that I think is so cool and I’m putting it under a cut mostly because it’s sexual in nature (oblique references to SA also):

The conceit of the book is that we have our villainous bad boy, “Damien Maleficus Bloodthorne” (these books are VERY self-aware) and a good girl named Amma, and they are forced together by The Circumstance and despite initially clashing they end up developing feelings for each other.

In the first two books we learn about a villain Amma knew in her previous life before meeting Damien, and while it’s never discussed explicitly or any amount of detail, the two had a sexual relationship that was dubiously consensual at absolute best (that’s the “person who treated her like an object” mentioned above), and there’s a scene in which he outright attempts to force himself on her. That guy is from the jump unequivocally a villain. He is charming to others but in private he is cruel and violent with Amma and we want him gone.

With Damien, however, she’ll frequently find herself in situations where he has to boss her around or tie her up (honestly one of my favorite scenes, it’s so funny) and she realizes she’s actually super into it. And here finally the author really highlights why this is surprising and puzzling to Amma: why is it okay with Damien when it wasn’t before?

And the reason is because by the time Amma has become attracted to Damien, she knows she is safe. She knows, for example, that when he ties her up he’s not really tying her up, she’s not in real danger, but illusion of it is there, and that’s what she finds thrilling. A man actually being controlling and domineering, a man who disregards her boundaries and lack of consent, is terrifying and horrible. A man she knows by this point is actually kind, will not hurt her (…not like that anyway), will not force himself on her, is actually very appealing even (especially) when he’s being a little rough with her.

Damien has the ability to literally force (via magic) Amma to do things but when he does this, it’s a violation. She doesn’t like it at all and the closer they get the less and less he uses it until he stops all together. But if he tells her what to do without the magic word, with her knowing she can refuse without being retaliated against, then it becomes fun and sexy.

Anyway I’ve just never seen an author really do something so deliberate and pointed like this before when it comes to ideas of danger and control in romance! She likes being dominated but in a safe and consensual way and when it’s not those things it’s portrayed as bad and horrible because it is! I love it!!

I recommend these books very much, they are so fun and funny, but I hasten to add that you shouldn’t expect explicit sex. Just as The Circumstance brought them together, it also keeps them arm’s length apart. The tension is real but there’s very little acting on it, though they get close occasionally. Mostly it’s just been a little kissing. I guess it would be classified as a slow burn? But I’m just realizing maybe I don’t know what that means? They haven’t smashed by the beginning of the third book is what I’m getting at, just a little kissing and some PG-13 tension and longing. He did say the word cock and where he’d like to put it at one point.

[junewild]

Okay ask game! if I was a perfume what would my top notes, mid notes and base notes be? And for extra credit what would the bottle look like? 🤍🌀 So I did an absurd amount of (amateur) research to answer this. For the base note we're going to want to use Oakmoss. Oakmoss is derived from a type of lichen that grows on oak trees. It has a deep, earthy and woody aroma with some leather and moss undertones. I chose Oakmoss out of the 10 most popular base tones because I was searching for something woody, but a majority of the bases were woody-smoky, woody-sweet, woody-spicy, or not woody at all! Obviously we are angling for woody to represent that autumn complexion and to represent the PNW. The base note is the note that lingers the longest, so once the top and mid notes fade out, the scent lingers woody and earthen and natural like the woods around you.

For top notes, your choices are largely some-variation-on-citrus, mint, or basil. I discarded mints and basil immediately as being too on-the-nose with the wooden and earthy base notes. Too green. From here, it's decided on which flavor of citrus. I landed on Neroli.

Neroli is derived from the flowers of the bitter orange tree. It's sweet and floral, with delicate citrus and honey-like notes. It's considered soothing and calming! I chose this for a couple reasons. I think the honey note probably best fits you out of the multiple citrus-adjacent fragrances, since it has a touch of that deep, grounded scent to mix with the woody and earthen tones of the Oakmoss, but it's still bright and sweet for a first impression that matches your bright first impression. For middle notes, we're looking for something to tie together the woody, earthen mossy Oakmoss with citrusy, honey floral Neroli. Middle notes seem to be largely comprised of two categories: Flowers and Spice. I dismissed the flowers out of hand, most of them are extremely delicate scents I don't think fit you at all or clash with the vibe we already have going on (geraniums? lotus? nah.). Plus I have a hateboner for lavender in general because people sneak it into everything and it's HORRIBLE for your skin.

From here we have spices to select from. I think it'd be pretty easy to go with cinnamon or cloves or ginger, but those didn't feel quite right. They give me the impression of homey-ness (and pie, obviously) although I think the warm tones from spice are definitely in the right direction to tie together the honey-sweet and earthen scents already going on here. What I actually chose was Cardamom.

Cardamom is derived from cardamom seeds (shocking, I know) and it's considered slightly floral, woody, and has a hint of citrus. Perfect for tying in the woody Oakmoss and the floral-citrus Neroli! Cardamom is also sweet, spicy, and warm, which I think is the perfect extra layer to carry this fragrance. It's also considered invigorating and energizing, which I think merges well with the calming top and base scents to give depth and complexity and keeps the mix from being one-note. I also think the spice fits much better for you as a person since it's a little less run-of-the-mill than pie spices, while still being warm and spicy.

So here we have a scent that transitions from flowery, citrus-honey Neroli into flowery, citrus-woody Cardamom, to woody-green, earthen Oakmoss over the duration. Inviting and sweet, invigorating and spicy, and calming and down-to-earth overall.

(If you want to find perfumes that match this description you can go here: https://www.fragrantica.com/ingredients-search/ and input the specific ingredients. The perfumes it generates however likely include additional ingredients and more investigation would be required.) As for the bottle for this, I'd think something tall and slim, clear with a honey-gold topper, with an embossed leaf or vine along the side with the name. A more elegant version of something like this

tiffany i would be on my knees proposing rn if you hadn't already been so clear that you do not want in on my group marriage. but i just need you to know that you are my favorite person in the entire world bar none & my best friend & a genuine fucking delight to everyone who knows you & your research skills are extremely fucking sexy. i am genuinely considering having this made up into a perfume.

to specifically respond:

oakmoss is absolutely Thee correct base scent, thank you. woody-soil is EXACTLY right.

mint & basil are wonderful scents, but they aren't MY scents. i absolutely tend toward citruses. neroli is def one of my favorites, right up there w lemon.

you are 110% correct on the middle notes. i despise floral scents with an absolute passion. they aren't allowed in my house.

(ps: these are exactly the scents that max picked, pretty much word for word. so if both of you say it, then i can't imagine how anyone could disagree)

[fuszulykaleves]

Act 3. The pagans come into the limelight.

This is the shaman. UGGGHHH. These costume design choices are not great. It look like every close member of Koppány's is just carrying around a fucking guitar. I guess he is using to pray... I hope this one at least stays intact.

Also, the voice? Its worse than Koppány. Its like Koppány but scratchier. Horrible, horrible, horrible.

No more pimp outfit for Koppány, THANK GOD.

Now for the second most useless song in the whole opera: "You are our most beautiful dream". Again doesn't add anything, other than showing us that Koppány fucks. He has 3 wives.

Now here? He has at least two dozen. Im going to stop questioning the choices they made here, cuz i am not going to get answers. Skip.

Nobles again. They are great.

Koppány and the shaman have a talk, the people are, again, missing from the stage. God why does Koppány look like he is regretting going after the throne????? He should be sure of himself, he wants the throne, he wants to rip it from István, he wants everyone to see what a great leader is. Why is he doubting himself??

The shaman's prayer. Another favourite of mine.

Uhh, i guess there are 2 shamans? And one of them is a woman? That's definitely a first.

Ok, i LOVE her voice. Her whole performance is great. But, its so strange seeing this woman in these more "traditional" clothes after we saw the other shaman in a fucking leather jacket and a tie. The two clashes horribly.

The whole trance scene is done nicely, i like it.

Réka's dream.

Is he constipated? He certainly looks like it. He sounds like it too.

Also Réka is writhing on the floor for some reason.

István tries to reason with Koppány. But he looks like he is trying to reason with a fucking child. Honestly at this point this is ridiculous.

The male shaman comes back with his guitar singing "I brought a bloody sword". As i said, ridiculous.

Ohoho, tha shaman forgot to make his voice scratchy and deep, and lo and behold, it suddenly becomes better sounding! Woah, who would have thought? Aaand he goes back to scratchy and fake deep...I guess he is tiring cuz he is switching between the two modes.

Fight scene woooo! The weird banners are back. Comical.

End of act 3.