#this is so cool and so ivy coded

[sukunasteeth]

The Pleasure's All Mine - Chapter One

Based on this post from @winterrbluess

If Shibuya had a pulse, it would be at the rate of a hummingbird's wings.

The human race operates at a speed that oftentimes seems too quick to catch up with. It had been that way ever since you moved to the city for work about three years ago.

You came for a corporate job made up of ink black suits and pencil skirts, smiles that felt more on the side of uncanny valley than they did of genuine kindness, and handshakes from skin cold with carpal tunnel. You lived a corporate life. Everything is muted tones of tan and relies heavily on the concept of "modernizing". You wake up, go to work, go home, work on what you couldn't finish at the office, fall asleep on your colorless coffee table, and wake up to your alarm going off what feels like hours too soon. It was a cyclical cycle.

And the day you broke it, happened to be the day you met Sukuna.

~

You noticed the new shop on the end of the street maybe three weeks ago. It was so out of place, after all. The building was the only non-skyscraper to be seen on the block. It was a shriveled up little thing, built out of chipping brick that seemed to teeter on the edge of dilapidation from the inability to meet building codes. Overgrown ivy crawled up the sides of it and it still had plots of dirt in the front for planting as opposed to concrete and metal benches. 

When you had first seen the For Sale sign a few months ago, you were sure they were going to tear it down and pave over it- happy to be rid of the only spot of character left in the business district. Then a new sign appeared over the door, one that looked hand carved out of wood and haphazardly painted over so that you could make out the words "Carnation King".

It’s funny, flowers had never been much of an interest to you. You had seen them as just another task to take care of when you returned home after a long day. Even filling a vase with water always sounded like more effort than it was worth. But as the days blend together from monotony, you find yourself desperate for color.

You changed your walking route to work so that you can pass by the shop everyday. You knew nothing about flowers. You could barely tell a rose bud apart from a tulip, but that didn't stop you from ogling at the new bouquets and potted plants that lined the sidewalk every time you passed them. Signs made out of toothpicks and painters tape said words like “Butterfly Ranunculus” and “Brown-Eyed Susan” and learning their names became one of your favorite things to do. You never stepped foot inside, and yet the flower shop was now one of your happy places. 

You would meander by on your lunches and watch the butterflies play. You would walk by in the morning and smell freshly watered earth still hanging in the air. On your way home, when the sun was at its fullest shine, you would walk beneath the misters hung under the lip of the roof, and the coolness of the water droplets left behind on your skin saw you all the home. 

You hadn’t realized how important the flower shop was to your daily routine until the day it was interrupted. 

It happened to be one of the only days you had been forced by your workload to stay past sunset for overtime. You didn’t do it for the money, you did it because your boss had asked you nicely. But as you finally exit the office building for the night, you find yourself regretting staying so late. 

You hated walking home in the dark. Even though Japan was notorious for its low crime rates, that didn't mean it was an innocent city. After 9pm, your street was notorious for being a ghost town. The only signs of life were the few work martyrs left in their floor to ceiling window offices- acting as makeshift streetlights. There were only a few lights on the way home, and their solidarity only seemed to pronounce the darkness along the rest of the empty roadside. When you were just an intern, before you got better hours and were finally promoted to the shining 9-5 that everyone dreams about, you used to take your heels off and sprint back to your apartment. Always weary of what you couldn’t see. At the time, you didn’t know that the scariest people don’t have to hide in the dark. 

You hadn’t planned on walking past the shop that night. It was closed. It had to be. Normal flower shops closed well before 7 pm let alone 9. But the moment you touch the sidewalk outside your building, you see light glowing against the dense night. 

The shop at the end of the street was draped in tiny fairy lights. Every square inch of brick was twinkling slowly, glimmering like resting fireflies. It looked almost otherworldly in comparison to the towering pitch black shadows of corporate offices surrounding it. In fact, the effect of the glowing lights against the mirror windows made it look like the shop was hanging in space. 

Outside, the flowers you had walked past in the afternoon had been replaced with new pots, overflowing with buds you had never seen before. The usual delicate smell of Honeysuckle and Roses was now one of the sweetest scents you had ever experienced, so sweet, you could almost taste it on your tongue. Warm golden light floods out of the shop's window and the numerous white and yellow petals seem to gather and hold onto its dull shine. 

You didn’t even realize you had completely abandoned your original plan of taking the shortcut home until you were standing in front of the Carnation King with your eyes entranced on the display before you. One flower in particular had caught your eye, a huge luscious display of delicate tow-colored petals, tall with endless growth and reaching towards the moonlight as though it’s been waiting all day to see it. You can’t help but reach out to touch, and yet just before your fingertips make it, you feel coolness trickling onto your hand, breaking the spell that the lights and colors had placed on you. 

 "Evening Primrose." 

The suddenness of a voice beside you should have put you in fight or flight mode. It should have been a cold bucket of water to the face. Adrenaline spiking, you should be sprinting in the opposite direction. Instead, you found the tranquil trance that the flowers had put you in to have a lasting effect. 

You blink at the man who seemed to appear out of thin air standing next to you, and the first thing you notice are his eyes. Such a dark shade of golden rich hazel-brown, they were nearly shining like two cuts of Cat’s-Eye. They gleamed suspicion. 

He was much taller than you, but where most are lanky you can see strong muscles and broad shoulders. Collared sleeves rolled halfway up his arms revealed skin kissed rich and deep by prolonged sunshine. Tattoos slithered around his wrists and had made their way to his sculptured face, meticulously drawn black lines frame an annoyed expression. When you see the rest of him, you’re certainly not expecting to notice tufts from a head of true strawberry blond hair hang in his frigid gaze.

In one of his hands is a water can, still pouring trickling water onto your momentarily petrified fingertips, and in the other hand is a cigarette, only a third of the way lit. 

The sight of him takes you so far back, if the sound of his voice wasn’t still echoing in your head you might not have remembered that he had even said anything to you. 

"I'm sorry?" You pull your hand away from the water spray, drying it on your slacks.

The man takes half a drag of the cigarette before he answers you. Slow and unrushed. "They're called Evening Primrose.” He speaks through a cloud of tobacco smoke, glancing at the flowers that had caught your eye. His lip twitches slightly, "Need full sunlight but only bloom in moonlight. Fickle bastards." 

Okay. Owner. Mean owner. Unexpectedly rough-and-tumble looking for being the caretaker of a flower shop. You glance at his apron, but you don’t find a name tag. He takes a step back while you’re searching for it, but he only moves far enough to start watering the next plant on the table. 

You look back to the Evening Primrose, and even the smell of the burning cigarettes is nothing in the face of the scent that had pulled you in earlier. The two flavors mix like a tea garden on fire. You caress the petals once more, unthinkingly. 

"They smell incredible." You mutter, mostly to yourself. 

"Not them.” His voice is colder than his eyes. He flicks a bit of ash onto the cement behind him, and tilts his head in the direction of a different bush, one that’s even bigger than the healthy Primrose, with hundreds of tiny buds that flutter in the nighttime air. “That'd be her." 

"”Her”?" You repeat, wondering if you heard the man correctly. 

"Night Jasmine." He answers in return. 

As standoffish as he was, you still found yourself making mental notes of the names he had given you. When you look at the Night Jasmine directly, it’s clear that the wind was sweeping that delicious smell straight from the direction of its honey-hued petals. You’re not sure you had seen plants like this at even the most expensive hotels and events that you had been invited to. Maybe tiny cuttings, but nothing to this size and level of lush. 

"Well she's very pretty." You reply softly, letting out an airy laugh through your nose at his use of pronouns. The man doesn’t even crack a smile in return, his eyes giving you a pointed once over. 

“And invasive.” He adds, resting his gaze on yours once again. 

There’s a thick silence that follows after, during which you consider apologizing. For what? You were unsure, but somehow standing in his towering shadow and feeling his accusing eyes had you feeling like you were in the wrong for merely existing in his presence. 

Before you can think to just turn around, take off your heels, and sprint home like you had years ago, his voice demands your attention again. 

"So,” he says, “you gonna tell me why you’re stalking me, then?"

Now, surely, you were hearing things. 

"E-Excuse me?" 

He seems to take in your shock with some thought while he takes another languid puff, "You come by here every single day,” He lets the smoke go from his lungs, ”but you never buy a thing. In fact, you never even come in." The tone of his voice tilts towards annoyance. “You just stand at the window and pout like some sad puppy.” 

"I-I work in the building next door?" You offer, bewildered by the entire situation. Were you dreaming? Had you fallen asleep at your desk and given yourself some sort of stress-induced nightmare?

"Hmm," The man takes you in without breaking your gaze, tilting his head to the side while he takes another drag of his cigarette. "You don't seem like the pencil pusher type to me."

You’re not sure why that comment makes you defensive. In retrospect, it was even a compliment to you. You hated sitting at a desk all day, watching the sun rise and set over a stack of papers. But you had worked hard to get to the position you were in now and it wasn’t the first time a man had told you that you didn’t look like you belonged. Before you can catch yourself in the name of politeness you find yourself scoffing out, "Sorry, but you don't seem like much of a florist to me."

The silence returns. You watch as the disdainful glint to his eyes shatters, and is replaced with a split second of surprise. He blinks and it’s only then that you realize how much larger this man is in comparison to you. If you had seen him walking down the street, you’d probably think to yourself “I wouldn’t want to be on his bad side” and yet here you were, on his bad-getting-worse side from the moment your eyes met. 

Or so you had thought. But, as the antithesis of anger crosses his hardened features, and an unexpected bitten-back grin takes the place of his glower, you’re not sure what to think anymore. 

He snorts out a laugh, finally releasing you from the cold grasp of his unbreakable gaze. He takes another step back and focuses his attention on watering the flowers again. "Touche." 

The cigarette gets flicked from his fingertips and he smears it beneath his boot into a tiny canal of rocks separating the soil of the garden beds from the cement of the sidewalk. 

"So, you gonna buy something then? Or just stand there with that strange look on your face all night?" He tilts his head to mirror your stance, but the amused grin remains in place of your confused gape. “I close in five minutes.”

“I have to hand it to you, you’re a fantastic salesman.” You’ve never met a stranger more brash and uncaring, so you were giving it a shot in return. It only serves to further his easy smiles.

“Am I not offering the right thing?” Now apparently after confirming to himself that you weren’t a threat, his tone of voice seems almost playful. It only serves to further your confusion. “Hmm, a lock of my hair maybe?” 

“I am not a stalker!” 

“Then buy something.” 

You take a deep breath through your nose. Feeling the need to save face when you haven’t done anything wrong in the first place. Yet, the thought of turning away empty handed had embarrassment threatening to heat up your neck and cheeks. You didn't care if you had to drop a pretty penny, you just didn't want to boost this man's ego.

"Those." You point to the nearest flower, another pot of proud blossoms sprouting from a stem unseen past the abundant greenery of strong leaves. Soft moon colored petals unfurl at the top, and sprouting from the center are tiny, deep yellow pollen covered buds. 

The man follows your pointed finger and graces your choice with all of one second before he turns back to his watering. "Not those." He decides flatly. 

You’ve never made a more difficult purchase. "Why not?" 

"Casablanca Lilies need constant care. A white-collar like you couldn't keep up. And I don't raise 'em so people can kill 'em."

"I think I can take care of a plant, thank you." You retort, sarcasm oozing off your sentence. 

It seems you can only really catch this man’s attention when your tone has a touch of negativity, because suddenly he’s back to watching you. 

There’s a pregnant pause before his next words. He searches nothing but your eyes for a moment, as if to gauge. 

"Wanna bet?" He cocks a brow. 

And it angers you how handsome you find this annoying, pompous, self-entitled stranger. 

"Bet?” You repeat incredulously. “Are you making a sale or trying to fight?” 

Instantly, as if you were offering the two scenarios as possible options, his smile darkens and he takes a step forward instead of continuing his line of watering. 

That was all the reply you needed. You had seen the movies. The documentaries. Handsome men, provoking women, hungry eyes, it never added up to something good. So that was your que to keep walking straight past him and go home. 

“Right, I don’t need this.” You scoff. 

And yet, just before you're able to step aside him, like a true businessman, he says just the right thing to keep you there.

"So I'm right then?" 

The sound of the droplets from the watering can against the cement in place of your footsteps has you cringing in self-disappointment. You force your head to turn and meet his infuriating amusement. 

"What's the bet?" You grind out from clenched teeth. His eyes fall to your mouth, and he takes a pointed second to look at your bite before he steps away from you and back to the place where your interaction began. He reaches beside the huge Evening Primrose bush to reveal a small green potted sapling with the same leaf pattern. 

He holds it out to you and you reach out to take the little thing like you’re scared for its safety. 

"Come back in two weeks. If it's alive, I'll give you the lilies for free." The calmness in his tone of voice doesn't match the excitement glittering in his dark hazel-brown eyes. "And if it's dead, you owe me." He adds, rather nonchalantly. 

"Owe you what?" You squint your eyes at him, maybe then you could see the little horns that match his devilish little grin. 

He shrugs, almost too innocently, "A favor. Haven't thought of it yet." The stranger gives you one last once over, but this one leaves the strangest chill running down your spine. His eyes seem to follow it, as if he can see it rattling through you. "Should I? You're so confident you'll win, I didn't think I'd have to."

Now it was your turn to look him up and down, tattoos, scars and a face that seemed too comfortable with that murderous look he had first given you.

"...There's no way you're just a florist."

The comment is completely ignored as he leans forward, invading your airspace a little too close for comfort, and murmuring the words "Yes or no?" with a thick sugar coating. 

"You're on." You hope your own words convey your complete disdain for him… and not that tiny glimmer of attraction you feel prickling under your skin. 

A surprised laugh seems to escape him, as though he didn't expect you to make the deal. "You're either quite confident in yourself or a damn fool." 

Like a rabbit bearing tiny teeth in the face of a lion, you mirror him and lean in closer until there's only a small space between the two of you. "Maybe I just like showing up cocky men."

"Oh, and I'm gonna love a favor from such a mouthy brat." You're lucky he pulls away from you after he practically purrs his threat. There's another thoughtful pause before he reaches into his apron pocket and pulls out his pack of cigarettes again.

"Two weeks. I know where you work too now." He lights another, and examines the cherry after he takes the first drag, smiling like it just told him a joke. “Don’t forget.” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Let me know if you want more. Didn't get too much on Part 1 but I have ideas so...

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your third week begins in the same place. Before the iron gate, the code unlocking the green maze within. You’re still just as impressed as your first day there. To you, it’s like a fantasy. Entirely unattainable but it’s right there. You can look, but you can’t touch… not beyond cleaning.

You linger outside, not thinking. You admire the tall tulips and the hedge trimmed to resemble some landmark you can’t quite place. You could see a place like this in an Austenian film or perhaps something Victorian. You don’t have an eye for the difference.

You key in the code for the backdoor and continue on. You put covers on your shoes and grab a fresh set of gloves. You’re getting into a pattern, though each client differs slightly. You put your things away and bring your water bottle with you. You bought a cool strap that keeps it against your hip, a small splurge with your first paycheck. The rest went to bills.

As you start on your usual journey through the many rooms of the airy house, you wonder how its sole resident isn’t lonely. Or perhaps he is. He doesn’t seem the type to admit to it. You turn your thoughts back to your work. You try not to think of him, truly, you don’t know much of him.

You take a candlestick and polish it. You move on the small globe; an ivory orb on a silver axes, the outlines of the continent carved into the surface. As you put it back, you notice something. An item you can’t recall being there before. You reach for it but stop as you realise it’s a camera.

You retract your hand and move on to dust the shelf itself. Does he not trust you or was it there before? Of course, somewhere like this would need security. There was a story just the other day about a break-in, but that was closer to your father’s where those culprits dwell.

The second floor is always easier. It seems even less lived-in than below. All but the study and the main bedroom. You flit in and out, checking points off the list until you’re content. You can only hope he will be too.

As you descend, the epiphany tickles your brain. It’s the first shift he hasn’t appeared. It’s easy to assume he’s busy. You don’t expect him to hang around. As if he would supervise you. Besides, that’s probably what the cameras are for.

You pack up and get your single refill of water. You leave the way you came, as you have twice before. The keypad flashes red to signal the lock is in place. You haul your kit higher on your shoulder and tread slowly along the little path along the side of the house.

You look at the gazebo trimmed in hanging ivy. It’s beautiful. You’d like to venture up and sit on that bench. Just sit and watch and smell and feel. You force the thought away and turn back along the stonework.

You’re going home. Not to pollen but tobacco smoke. Not to lush gardens but wilting strands in soggy mud. Not to immaculate floors and pristine decor but to stained walls and broken springs in your mattress. 

Home, to another man that makes you nervous.

🧹

Your father is as he always is, smoking on the couch. You say hi as you come in with a bag of groceries, the prize for what was left of your check. He grumbles and flicks through the channels. You go to the kitchen to put away the food.

You’re almost at the end of your first month, a third of the way through your probationary period. Hopefully after that, you can pick up more clients. You shut the cupboard and go back to the living room. Your father coughs into a crumpled tissue. He sounds horrible. You can’t say so, he doesn’t seem to care.

“I got some fresh produce,” you announce proudly, “I’ll steam some veggies with the chops.”

“You get fries?” He growls.

“Uh, no,” you admit, “I thought we could eat something healthier–”

“I don’t like steamed veggies,” he drops the remote and grabs his pack of smokes.

“Oh, sorry, I was only thinking–”

“Don’t lie and say you were,” he snorts as he pulls out a cigarette and taps the end of the pack. “Go on, I’m tryna watch this.”

He nods at the television and you follow his gaze to the rerun of All in the Family. He’s seen them all before. You take the dismissal and retreat up to your room. Like you always do.

It’s always been like this. You don’t hate your father but sometimes it feels like he hates you. You put your kit and your water bottle on your dress and change into clean clothes. You lay in bed and close your eyes, trying to let go of the tension in your muscles.

You don’t remember your mom but he does. You assume that’s why he’s like this. It’s not you, it’s what happened. Tragic. A loss he won’t talk about.

You rub your forehead and let your arms fall to bend on either side of your head. You only ever saw one picture of your mother. You don’t think you look like her. She was pretty. And young. You were always too afraid to ask about her but you could tell she was younger than him. No one could’ve expected her to go so soon.

You close your eyes. It’s a strange sort of grief to miss someone who is only a shadow in your mind. Not even a voice, just this ghost you know by name. Mommy…

You blow out a deep breath in an effort to bid away the sadness. That was so long ago. This is now and you have a lot to worry about.

🧹

The Laufeyson house greets you once more with its elaborate brickwork. It’s starting to feel familiar, like a habit to put in the new code and walk along the winding path around to the back door. Six more numbers and you’re inside; shoe covers, gloves, bottle, and the list.

You always check the new email sent by the agency. There’s always something small and new squeezed into the bullet points. This week, you notice the first task is laundry. 

‘Retrieve hamper from hallway. When hamper is left outside door, it means clothes must be washed.’

Easy enough. You go upstairs first and take the tall hamper from beside the door frame. It’s heavy and there’s no wheels to aid in your struggle. The laundry room is downstairs. Your descent is treacherous, one step at a time as you haul the basket down step by step. If Mr. Laufeyson is there, he can’t happy with the noise.

You finally get to the machine and follow the instructions about cycle type and separating colours from whites. However, there is only the bedding to be cleaned. You load the linens in and take a moment to figure out the touchscreen. Your father’s machine has a dial that only works on one setting and gives off a dingy stench.

You leave the basket in front of the washer and retreat to start your usual progression through the urban manse. Mop, sweep, dust, vacuum, polish; hallway, kitchen, dining room, sitting room… Nothing unusual or unexpected.

As you cross the narrow foyer to the den, the sunshine glows a warm orange through the slender windows on either side of the front door. The patterning of the glass reflects prettily on the floor. Despite your best efforts, you can’t help but imagine residing somewhere so brilliant.

You sigh and carry on. You’re sure to open the long drapes to let in the late spring sunshine. It’s not so bad working in the light and you can see where the rare spec of dust is hiding. You go to the tall shelf beside the record player and pull out the albums to wipe beneath them. Music would be jarring in a place always so silent.

You slip the albums back into place, pulling out one to admire the cover; Ane Brun. You’ve never heard of them. You read the track list curiously. You know you shouldn’t be wasting time.

“I don’t believe I’d have anything to your taste on my shelf,” the mocking slither has you pushing the album in line with the rest.

You almost apologise but you remember. You don’t speak. You just clean. So clean.

You glance over at Mr. Laufeyson as he struts in, a book held in one hand as his other is tucked in his pocket. He wears his usual pressed attire; a dark button-up and even darker slacks. You note that he has no tie that day. A single curl dangles by his temple as the rest of his black hair is precisely combed back.

You return to your tasks, gently wiping the cover of the record player and along the stand. You  hear the book drop onto the low table before the sofa before his footsteps continue on; closer. He approaches as you get to the next shelf, a collection of EPs in unmarked sleeves.

You wince as he stops near you, flipping up the cover of the sleek record player before stepping back to peruse his selection. You do your best to keep on as he looms. The air is thick and suffocating. Should you go to the next room and come back?

He slips a record free of its sleeve and places it carefully on the players. He moves the needle over and flips the switch, a crackle before the sound drones from the tall standing speakers. Acoustic guitar with a gritty feel to it. The sudden addition of a woman’s voice jolts you; her tone is peculiar but not unpleasant.

When I woke I took the backdoor to my mind And then I spoke I counted all of the good things you are

He backs away without a word. Not an explanation. You finish cleaning the second shelf and dare to glance over. He reads his book on the couch, unbothered by your existence. That isn’t too unfamiliar.

You finish the space but leave the vacuuming for later. You wouldn’t want to ruin the music. You go into what you can only call a sunroom. The french doors peek out onto the garden and a patio set with a large dining set in white iron and glass.

The music drifts in and keeps you company. It almost makes the work easier. You make quick work and go to check the washer to switch over the load. Once you have the dryer figured out, you begin on the second floor.

It’s only as you come out of one of the guestrooms that you notice the silence is returned. You turn down the hallway and near the next door. You enter the study with your usual reverence. Something about the space is intimidating. 

The large leather chair with its dimpled back and the even bigger desk; slabs of marble set into polished ebony. Shelves of a similar material, decked out with numerous volumes and the occasional ornament. Some appear even to be genuine artifacts. The rug at the centre is patterned in Persian style.

Behind the desk are a set of doors that open onto a balcony. The drapes are drawn shut. You find that is often the case. It’s a sombre and dark space hidden from the bright gardens without. Your tasks here are minimal. You use the hand vacuum and dust the shelves. You aren’t to touch the desk at all.

A shadow startles you as you drag the cloth along the edge of the bookshelf. Your eyes round and you look over as Mr. Laufeyson enters. You blanch but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He sighs and goes to the desk, sitting in the chair and wheeling it closer. You narrow your sights on the shelves; focus.

You feel a tremble but quickly shake it away. This is his home, he must be able to exist within it, but this feels strange, almost deliberate. Is he trying to make some point? To scare you? You remember the mention of those who came before you. Did they quit or did he dismiss them? Regardless, you can’t afford either.

It isn’t that difficult to follow the rules. Don’t speak? You haven’t much to say. You get closer as you advance along the shelves to the back of the office. He lets out another long exhale. His chair creaks, once, twice, and again.

“Hm,” he rolls back and swivels, an action you observe from the corner of your eye. He tuts and wheels back to the desk, resuming tapping on the keys of his slender laptop. The glow limns his silhouette sinisterly.

You rustle the drapes as you pass them and cross to the opposite shelves. As you brush over the spines of the books, you nearly drop the cloth. His low hum frightens you as he mimics the same melody that played from the speakers below. His tone is deep and sonorous, even delightful.

You squeeze the cloth and pause before regaining your composure. This cannot be a coincidence. The camera and now he’s following you. Or so it seems. Does he distrust you? What reason have you given him?

You are mindful to wipe down the bronze statue of what you assume is a viking warrior. You place it back staunchly, making sure your work is entirely visible to him. You are honest and you like to think you do your work well. Or at least, you try to. Perhaps if he sees that effort, he won’t be so suspicious.

As you head for the door, he quits his humming. His chair squeaks again.

“You are rather more thorough than the last,” he muses.

You stop and turn your head. You nod. He’s baiting you to break his number one rule.

“And you take orders well,” he adds blithely, “that is rare these days.” He taps a key again, “as you were.”

You take the dismissal in stride and flit off to your next task. It isn’t much, maybe only a statement of fact, but it’s something. He isn’t unhappy with your work. So far, neither are you.

[marzipanandminutiae]

Beautiful Creatures... god that brings back memories, I haven't read it but I did remember when the film adaptation came out as one of many "post-Twilight teen romance" films. Did you ever watch the movie?

(cont.) I had no idea of the weird slavery whitewashing in Beautiful Creatures, but looking back it really doesn't surprise me. Sounds like a classic example of how trying to divorce an aesthetic from its ugly origins makes what you've removed stand out even more, not less.

I did not, no; I was over it by then

and yeah the slavery avoidance stood out to me even as a teen when I still liked the books (I read the first two and didn't get any further). in the Civil War-era flashbacks, there's a servant named Ivy who is fiercely loyal to her "mistress" Genevieve. What race is Ivy? Never specified. Is Ivy free? Is she enslaved, at least until the immediate post-war scenes? Never comes up.

Same with Amma, the MC's housekeeper in the present day. Obviously she's not enslaved, but there's conspicuously no mention of her race- or those of anyone in her social circle, even though the coding is extremely similar to those of Mystical Black Characters in other works (eg going into the swamp to do mysterious ancestor-worship rituals involving animal bones).

But they DO specify that the Cool Badass Magical Librarian Who Has A Master's Degree And Stuff is Black. So the impression you're left with is that they could clarify this; they just don't because they'd rather skirt around outdated tropes and unfortunate implications than have to actually handle them in the text

(Amma was Viola Davis in the movie, for the record. so like...yeah)

[goldbiz]

☎️ my first character i ever roleplayed 🎾 what type of genre of roleplay i prefer to write 🌸 the blog/s that most inspires me

prompt: my experience in the roleplaying community, @amatorial

🌸 the blog/s that most inspires me.

there's a few blogs that inspire me that i have gotten to write with, and it's just because i am enjoying the content that's being put out. there's also a lot of people here who are just so downright creative whether that pertains to character graphics, the way they write their characters ect. @sm4llville (once again sorry for the callout big, is one of those people who really gets that clark kent interpretation, y'know?? also i have only gotten to know them briefly but @loisl4ne with her interpretation of THAT lois lane from that show?? we love smallville here, i will tolerate no hate. jks you can be critical of the show but smallville has importance here.

going over towards the marvel side, it's been really cool seeing all these different takes, the way people have tailored all these characters in a way that's true to them but also adding a touch of themselves. gonna say just say point blank that i am still new to comic books so the mcu has honestly been my gateway to marvel but seeing @startaxian (astro) and @kingspartax (eli's) take on peter quill / star-lord has been such a joyride. i really love peter quill and i'll always get excited about new portrayals that take him further and beyond with what the mcu originally did for him because he such a fun character that deserves the world. @fntstic, @soulbarer and @diam1nd are also always just a positive space on my dash. like i said, don't know much about marvel characters outside their visual media appearances so i have been learning a lot just through their portrayals and dior (i really am loving all the fluffy shenanigans booster and emma are going through even if they are really slow and drawn out from my end)

taking it over to the dc side of things, @rotinto's take on poison ivy is so much fun with all their aesthetics and the prose being used in their writing. there was a lot of thought there with your portrayal and she's just so great, cunning, sultry and all those things i love about her and i do love the little horror you have incorporated all around. i am just having a blast with the little thread thing we have going on. it's campy, and a very booster coded encounter. few blogs that i also follow / have just started following but will get a shoutout because: @supurman, @identitysolved, @themiscira, @bruz3r i actually dont follow many dc blogs?? rip. the fandom is pretty tiny.

and finally these are just the blogs that are just really fun, have characters i really enjoy / have interest from my end but are also just lovely people: @warplanet, @print17, @bdazzled / @serendpitous, @darehearts, @ronins, @cqnna, @strangewonderful, @wldwst / @xitmusic, @f1llgraves / @redcr0ss, @unhalloweds, @amatorial, @bycain, @bychuck, @fireho3s, @fablelike

[alexcors]

Idea for a fanfic

A single monitor glows in the darkness of the trailer. A young man has been sitting at work for almost twelve hours. He rubs his eyelids, driving away thoughts of sleep and cool palms that would easily heal his sore eyes. Always did.

A short beep announces a guest. Rose enters the trailer as silently as always. Damian, for a moment, regrets giving her the access code. And then he dismisses that thought too: he agreed to have a partner himself.

"So this is our maniac?"

"Right," Damian answers indifferently, although this morning he was on the verge of personally cutting this piece of sh*t with a katana.

He hated organ traffickers and hated those who sold children's organs even more. His father made him swear an oath, and then forced Richard, and even Raven to make Damian promise that the maniac would be brought to justice. And not perish in pieces in the nearest swamp.

And only Kyle stood in the shadows, scowling as she demanded that this creature be destroyed. It was Catwoman who brought his father this file, a folder with photos of alcoholics, prostitutes, difficult street children. All with missing organs, most often the heart.

Damian remembered how Kyle... Selina, fighting back angry tears, demanded that Batman find the bastard who did this to defenseless people. With children, even if they were all over thirteen.

The first victims had their chests roughly cut open. Each subsequent one was done more carefully. As if the maniac was learning to use his powers on those who would definitely not be looked for.

It was easy for Drake to create a "contract" for Robin. Todd, Kyle, and even Poison Ivy and Quinn rounded up all sorts of rabble on a private island.

Damian also came there, trying to act like a spineless idiot from the first day.

"You did well," Rose said, peering at the screen.

"I hope you're talking about the investigation, and not my... role."

"Don't grumble, I enjoyed it. Too bad I didn't have time to film your snotty moans."

"Tt. No chance."

The computer found another match - microscopic scraps of muscle fibers from the jacket matched the victim's materials. This is the fifteenth.

"Our maniac is clearly not a fan of cleanliness"

"Loves the smell of blood in the morning. Typical for people with manic psychosis and schizophrenia"

Damian winces, remembering how he identified the maniac. Like a bloodhound, by smell! The black and white clothes reeked of a corpse. Disgusting...

"What do you think is going on in her sick head?" Rose nods at the screen, where a monochrome parody of Harley Quinn is twitching under the influence of the gas.

"I don't know," Damian answers indifferently.

"Judging by her smile, something pleasant. Perhaps she is dreaming that she fulfilled the "contract", defeated Robin, ripped out his heart... And sailed off into the sunset on a luxury yacht." Rose grins.

"Whatever. The helicopter is picking us up in an hour. Be ready."

"Can't wait to get back to the Tower, lover boy?"

"Shut up."

Yes, Damian wants to go back. To a normal life, at least for him, to his team. And to soft, cool palms that can heal his tired eyes.

[mythals-whore]

ASSIGNING THE MEMBERS OF THE VEILGUARD A TAYLOR SWIFT ALBUM BECAUSE I CAN!!!

Harding - Debut

Obviously she’s our Ferelden farm girl so this just makes sense, but let me elaborate anyway. Harding is VERY Tied Together with a Smile/ The Outside to me?? Not to mention i feel like she would love the angrier songs Picture to Burn/ should’ve said no. We know how she gets when she’s angry. And you can’t convince me she wouldn’t LOVE Our Song.

Neve - Midnights

Do i even need to explain this one?? Neve gives such Midnights vibes, vigilante shit/mastermind/midnight rain???? Also SO yoyok coded. i feel like her romance is very Labyrinth/Snow on the Beach. And the woman who pets all of docktown’s stray cats is very “karma is a cat” of her idc.

Bellara - Red (TV)

This one was hard! It was between Red and 1989 to me. I just think Bellara would love the high energy pop beats (22, WANEGBT, Starlight). But i think she would LOVE Treacherous/State of Grace as well. Will help with the fanfic writing 100%. I put TV here specifically bc Better Man & Forever Winter could very much remind her of Cyrian??? And you can’t convince me Bellara wouldn’t be obsessed with ATWTMVTV.

Lucanis - Speak Now

Purple vibes, obvious. But he’s like, very Enchanted to me. AKA loves reading romance novels and the concept of romance but doesn’t know much about it/has never experienced it but wants it badly. Which is also why Electric Touch/Sparks Fly apply here. Don’t think about Lucanis listening to Castles Crumbling when he gets back from the Ossuary to find that Caterina is gone (+ later if you don’t save Treviso). Also Innocent was written about him, Taylor told me.

Shout to passenger princess Spite which i feel Taylor embodied when she wrote Dear John (iykyk)

Davrin - Lover

First of all, he is SO The Archer. “Ive been the Archer, Ive been the prey” “i jump from the train and ride off alone i never grew up its getting so old” “i cut off my nose just to spite my face and hate my reflection for years and years” its so Davrin (also one of my favorite songs maybe ever so this is big news). Also as @pinayelf pointed out, Assan as the Arrow?? Dying. But also Davrin’s romance is so Its Nice to Have a Friend. I saw someone talk about this not that long ago, but he’s very much a friend first?? Like he gives the vibe that as your LI you just hang out and rib on each other. I just i feel like they laugh a lot. + Lover as an album is soft but very anxiously attached?? Which i feel is the whole inner life of “i am a Grey Warden and im not supposed to get to attached bc it can’t last.” Honorable mentions go to Daylight/I Think He Knows/Cruel Summer/ Cornelia Street

Could also be convinced he is Reputation bc Reputation seems hardcore but is secretly very soft.

Emmrich - Tortured Poets (The Anthology)

Emmrich would LOVE the flowery language in this. Would love analyzing the lyrics with his besties. He’d love The Albatross (which, coincidentally is one of my favs, guess he just has good taste) and The Manuscript. Also tbh i don’t know much about his romance but “you know how to ball, i know Aristotle” feels like Emmrich with a much younger Rook (shout out to But Daddy I Love Him as well). Idk i think he’d secretly love it. Also relating Robin to Manfred bc that is his son??? On the sad side i feel like Emmrich is very the Prophecy/Peter because he has that dialogue about how he ‘once thought he’d get married’ like he always wanted love but never found it.

Taash - evermore

This was very difficult but i think the general witchy vibes are very “I’m Rivaini, we’re cool with spirits”. Also Tolerate It feels like when their mom comes to visit and no matter what Taash does it’s not good enough. Laash specifically is Dorothea/Ivy to me. And then of course (endgame spoilers) Marjorie after their mom dies and RWYLM if Harding is also gone. As a fan of the ‘pots and pans’ of Closure, they also get this one assigned to them. Just feels right.

[necrotech-puppywitch]

Intro - whoami

Salutations? I am necrotech-puppywitch aka morrogos aka Morrigan. Currently living the cyberpunk life (surviving off of "contracting" remotely while studying two degrees and running all my stuff off of salvaged and resurrected tech while still barely paying for rent and fighting my cornucopia of demons).

Note: I CANT DONATE IM BARELY GETTING BY MYSELF

TERFS FUCK OFF TO HELL

Blm, 🇵🇸, Trans rights are human rights, fuck capitalism, fuck fascism, fuck right wing bullshit, abolish ALL borders, healthcare is a human right not a business model

I use Arch btw (custom hardened kernel) with Hyprland because GET GOOD

>blog - this blog is my personal blog, sometimes i do horny posting/ reblogging, usually just random pictures and thoughts from day to day life, occassionally an essay or a poem or a snippet of something I am working on (could be art, could be journalling, could be code, who knows)

> pronouns - she/ they/ it

>id - trans femme demisexual poly sapphic leaning nonbinary creature of the night waiting to rip out your throat :3

>autistic? Very

>music - Dazey and the Scouts, Avril Lavigne, Night Tapes, carolesdaughter, GRLwood, Destroy Boys, chloe moriondo, Halsey, Jazmin Bean, KiNG MALA, Leanna Firestone, Paramore, PERTUBATOR, Pretty Sick, Poppy, Mommy Long Legs, Bikini Kill, Royal & the Serpent, Sir Chloe, Skating Polly, TAELA, awfultune, Rare Americans, dacelynn, Mountain Goats, Penelope Scott, wallows, cavetown, ethel cain, Bloodwitch, Atlas Ivy

>intr - fungi, digital art, computers, diy tech, resurrecting dead computers from the dump (every device I own is either one ive repaired from there or something 3rd or 4th hand), capture the flags, args, piracy, philosophy, poetry, cozy horror writing, books, bug bounties, maldev, old books (I love old book smell), FOSS, making synth music, old b grade horror movies, cozy horror, furry stuff

>fvfds - sushi, karage chicken, chicken nuggies, baguettes, cheese melts, mie goreng noodles, brisket

>fvmedia - Scoobey Doo Mystery Incorporated (animated show), Harley Quinn (the 2019 show), She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018), LOONEY TUNES MY BELOVED!, Creature from the Black Lagoon, Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty (I know I know it sucks whatever), Watchmen, literally anything Studio Ghibli, Serial Experiments Lain (she just like me fr), wargames (both movies, the dead code is a comedy and underrated), Lisa Frankenstein, Strange Darling (LITERALLY GOALS), Hilda, Atomic Blonde, TRON Legacy, House on Haunted Hill (the original), Re-Animator (he did nothing wrong fr fr), the Fear Street Trilogy (the lighting is delicious!), Pantheon, ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK? (I grew up on the 90s series, love it), Black Lagoon, Guillermo Del Torro's Cabinet of Curiosities, Dracula (1931, Bella Legosi is amazing), all the scream movies (yes they are terrible, I love them for it), Atlantis (the disney one, I just like the aesthetics of and the submarine is so so cool it just tickles my brain right), gingersnaps, the creepshow trilogy, the owl house, Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, psycho, series of unfortunate events, I am not okay with this, goonies, the iron giant, Ulysses 31, Last Night in Soho

>vgmes - Faith: The Unholy Trinity, Minecraft, CS2 (I miss csgo, cs2 is worse, I also miss the old overwatch), Stardew Valley, Cyberpunk 2077, Orwell, Oneshot, Party Hard, Fallout New Vegas, Fallout 4, Payday 2, Life Is Strange, The Sims 4, Crusader Kings 2, CELESTE MY BELOVED (that made me cry TwT), Mother Russia Bleeds,

>fvprintmedia - courtney crumrin, goosebumps horrorland, the amulet series, the domino comics, the graveyard book, tales of the cthulhu mythos, the sandman comics (the 40s and 50s one, I have a mega edition with all the comics of the old sandman), the phantom of the opera, wuthering heights, the mysterious island, the Fall of the House of Usher, the picture of dorian grey, bodies from the library, psycho, series of unfortunate events,

> ask me about? Anything, i am so so bored please interact with me

> colours - greens, purples, lots of black, pastel pinks, but mainly blacks

>will I break your knee caps? Yes, yes I will. I am a violence enjoyer and a massive masochist

>I reallly hate going to the vet TwT

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Do they keep a diary/a journal?

Mal - yes, actually. But no gross feelings stuff, ew. Just drawings. ...Of various levels of "disturbing". (Peak being begining of D2, of course)

Jay - nah. Better stuff to do. Also lowkey paranoid it'll be stolen.

Evie - yes, technically, multiple. She keeps one journal to jot down what was when done to any potions she's brewing (the correct scientific procedure), her fashion one, of course, for whatever designs she dreams of, and lastly, one to note down orders and payments for her shop.

Carlos - nah. He's got a collection of loose papers with important and "important" info on them. His cousins still keep finding them in Hell Hall. Jay has to move them from his parts of the room regularly. Mal found papers stuck in between her journal.

Uma - no. WAY more important shit to do, and she finds it way too sentimental. She keeps records of stuff important for the running of her crew, but doesn't consider it a journal, rather a public record.

Harry - yes. To the surprise if absolutely no one, the thing he writes most about is Uma. There are several original songs and poems for her as well. He wouldn't mind if she found it.

Gil - I wanna say yes, he tries. He's not very consistent though. The only thing he writes about is his friends and crewmates – he accidentally puts it down in the common space of the ship often, and most of the crewmates picked it up once. Cos, y'know. You see, you take. If they read it, they began blushing furiously under the excited "My friends are SO cool" Gil wrote and gave it back to him without a word.

Claudine - once she stops living with her father, yes, though it took some convincing. She doesn't write regularly, though, because she just doesn't know what to write, and is afraid of putting her thoughts on the paper. Later, she writes poems in letters so small it's illegible, since poetry masks the true self a bit.

Harriet - yes. She writes regularly, though not a lot of feelings stuff. She writes poems and vague stories draws whatever comes to her mind (mostly abstract stuff) and keeps it tightly locked up in her cabin, since that shit is DARK. Smee twins accidentally found it once and Sammy kept complaining they were afraid of her drawings for two weeks straight.

CJ - ...she tries to. It never lasts more than two days in row. But she adds new disjointed entry every time she's reminded that her older siblings do so. It's actually extremely disturbing in different way than Harriet's since she has ZERO ability to self-censor.

Freddie - two. One for music and one for dreams and card readings.

Celia - one. Dreams and Cards and Friends on the other side. Though, technically, both sisters share another one, written in cryptic code and abbreviations and moved from place to place with regularity but without a set schedule. This one is about secrets of the Isle residents, the ones they bother or dare to write down.

Dizzy - I wanna say yes, actual diary, feelings and all. To utter exasperation of all her older relatives.

Anthony - no, keeping tabs on the salon is enough, thank you.

Dulcia - look, my girl deserves a Burn Book.

Ginny - not really. If she absolutely NEEDS something noted down, she tells Anthony. Exception being medical notes at the Escape but she delegates paperwork away any time she can. Also, I feel like her handwriting is borderline illegible to anyone but her and the three people she shares mental disturbances with (Maddy, Anthony, Harriet)

Maddy - she keeps tabs on the Apothecary and like Evie, writes down the shit she's synthetising. It's only correct to do.

Ivy - Yeah she gets a burn book too. She deserves it <3. It's in one notebook with scraps from fashion magasines and and some kaligrams. (Again, that's a form of self-censure. Can't read it, so it isn't there.)

I think I ran out of Isle kids, so AKs (all regarding a diary):

Audrey - canonically she does, I have nothing else to add.

Ben - he tries to, but he doesn't manage to write regularly, what with being a CHILD KING and all. It's healthy for him tho. Took the habit from his mother.

Chad - I refuse to believe this boy has a diary. He views it as "useless" and "too feminine".

Jane - yes, actual diary full of feelings. Starting each entry with "dear diary". She locks it religiously though, since her mother can and will read it if give an oppurtunity to.

Ally - yes and frankly it should be studied and/or published (with different names for the sake of privacy, but i'd pay a lot to read a diary of Ally Liddel of Wonderland)

Lonnie - ...no. she tried to, few times, but never quite managed more than few entries in a row. She doesn't particularly like sitting still, and fancies the thought of someone actually reading what she thinks about certain stuff even less.

Jordan - ...she uses her blogs and vlogs as a diary. The more private ones. Not her Drama Channel.

[up-the-anti]

How do you pick out colors? if you don’t mind me asking! I rlly love ur art, and ik i say this a lot, but gyatt damn it’s so jaw dropping 💕 U fr the goat

oh golly what a question :3

first, let me drop my color history for each piece to show you how chaotic and different each process is + how the initial color choices don't often make the final product:

piece 1 (everyone sleeping) & 2 (jonatello)

piece 3 (april) & 4 (leo)

piece 5 (raph & mikey)

so what you can conclude from above is that:

1) color choices are literally pulled out of my ass. the only SOMETIMES recognizable pattern i have is alternating warm tones with cool tones across the piece to keep it interesting, maintain flow, and prevent an area from being too flat for example:

and more subtly, here

there is no one way to implement this and the oversimplified map i drew above does not completely capture how i use this esp for poor leo and that damn flower field but like u get the gist im sure. for the april one however i planned on this when i started coloring-- the berry bush was initially all middle ground colors, the ivy below it was cool toned to the point where it was looking completely blue, and the grass was all warm toned but that kind of fell apart in the process and became something better so trust the process is also a big part tbh

2) i use SO MANY blending modes (multiply, overlay, soft light, add glow, and glow dodge are my forever go-tos). its always different depending on what i want the mood of the piece to be and whether i knew what i wanted it to look like by the end.

for example, the first piece where they're all sleeping, i had no idea what it would look like by the end and relied solely on one blue multiply layer to bring everything together and make it look like nighttime. i also did this for the jonatello kitchen one and kept on slapping orange/brown multiply layers on the foreground to make sure it was completely distinguished from and didnt fade into the background.

by contrast, for the april piece (i talk about this one a lot damn) i knew i wanted to take inspiration from 2000s digital cameras and as a result made everything more saturated and the lighting more purple (?) from the very beginning to give that effect.

3) curves, contrast, and brightness CARRY my pieces . im never 100% satisfied with the way the colors look until i play with those settings. for more cinematic drawings like this, i always increase the contrast. thats my cheat code especially for the last mikey & raph piece, omg they would have actually faded into the background without that last step. and sometimes when i lowkey hate a "finished" drawing i slap a singular color overlay on the whole thing to make it look more cohesive as a cheat code :P

last example encompassing tips 2 & 3;; this is what it looks like without the orange overlay, backlighting, and multiply layer over the foreground. jumpscare :((

thats all i can think of for now but i hope these somewhat made sense. also by no means am i a professional so take everything i just said lightly, ive never had any formal lessons and am completely self taught so this is what ive come to learn on my own in the past 5 years

[le-sluagh]

#5 Incorrect Batman: Vigilante (My AU)

Riddler: Let me show you a picture from last night that really upset me

Scarecrow: Okay, but in my defense, Mad Hatter bet me 50 cents I couldn’t drink all that shampoo.

Riddler: That’s not what I wanted to- you drank SHAMPOO?!

*****

Penguin: You look nice, I want to kiss you.

Riddler: What?

Penguin: I SAID IF YOU DIED, I WOULDN’T MISS YOU.

*****

Scarecrow, in Harley Quinn’s window: I knew we would find you here!

Harley Quinn: Why didn’t you use the door?

Joker, climbing past Scarecrow: Where would be the fun?

Harley Quinn:

Scarecrow:

Joker:

Harley Quinn: True.

*****

Riddler: You call yourself my best friend, but where were you when my riddle, I post on internet, only had four likes?

Catwoman: Making four accounts.

Riddler, tearing up: Really...?

*****

Harley Quinn, searching on internet, and see “updog” everywhere: Guys, what is an updog?

Riddler: Updog is a long sausage in a bun, often served with ketchup, mustard, onions, and/or relish.

Penguin: Not, that’s a hot dog. An updog is when a new version or patch of an application is released.

Two Face: No, that's an update. You’re thinking of the fourth largest city in Sweden.

Mad Hatter: Surely, that’s Uppsala, where’s updog is the giant spider in Harry Potter.

Scarecrow: That’s Aragog. Updog is a symbol conventionally used for an arbitrarily small number in analysis proofs.

Poison Ivy: You’re thinking of epsilon. Updog is an upward-moving air current.

Harvey Dent: No, that’s an updraft. An updog is-

Joker: It’s a joke.

Everyone: Wh-

Joker: It’s really just a joke. So please, stop destroying the fun here.

*****

Scarecrow: I think Riddler was right.

Mad Hatter: I'm surprised he hasn't marched in here to say 'I told you so.'

Scarecrow: He wouldn't say that.

Riddler: You're right, Scarecrow. For once in your life, you're 100% right. I would never say that.

Riddler: *turns around, the shirt he’s wearing says 'Riddler Told You So' on the back*

*****

Riddler: What if the person who named Walkie Talkies named everything?

Harley Quinn: Pregnancy tests are Maybe Babies

Joker: Forks are Stabby Grabbies

Mad Hatter: Defibrillators are Heartie Starties

Scarecrow: Nightmares are Dreamy Screamies

Two Face, annoyed: You are disappointments

*****

Riddler: You’ll have a hard time believing this because it never happens, but I made a mistake.

*****

Joker: Whaddya call a fish with no eye?

Lex Luthor, not looking up: Myxine Circifrons

Joker:

Joker: fsh

*****

Alfred, driving Bruce and Dick: So how was your day?

Dick Grayson: I almost got surprise adopted!

Alfred: What?

Bruce Wayne: He almost got kidnapped.

Alfred: Oh, okay.

Alfred: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

*****

Harley Quinn: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the items you have lost throughout your life

Penguin: Self-esteem, haven't seen you in years!

Joker: Oh wow, my past memories! Thank you for finding this!

Poison Ivy: I knew I lost that hope somewhere!

Two Face: My moral code, is that you?

Harley Quinn:

Harley Quinn: I was just gonna show you this cool toy trunk of my childhood, but do you guys need a hug?

[fluffytheocelot]

Hello it’s extremely late oops. Did not realize how long this thing would take (28 and a half hours apparently according to procreate lmao) but finally, here it is!

Carmen Week Day 8: La Femme Rouge

Holy crap that was a lot of characters! For day 8 I wanted to draw all the ways I've drawn/imagined Carmen over the last 5 years! There are many I didn't do for one reason or another, but it mainly boiled down to space lol. These 10 (11 including canon Carmen) are (most) of my favorites of my AUs :)

this turned out so cool im putting it in a frame when i get a chance lol

Info and solo drawings for each under the cut! it is. so long lol

as usual, i'll gladly answer asks about em :) i have plans to write a few for sure, but it's gonna be A While for them lol

Cat:

Both a Warriors AU and also just my "_____ as a cat" style!

This ones a lot less fleshed out so just bear with me lol. (ATM there might only be 2 clans, ACME and VILE, idk yet lol. idk what to name em either cos stickin "clan" on the end don't feel right XD)

In the Warriors AU, Sheeppaw grows up learning 2 contradictory versions of the Warrior Code: The true one from Shadowstalk, and the VILE version from older warriors. She gets made an apprentice a couple moons early, but is relegated only to camp duties until shes 6 moons old.

She trains alongside Cracklepaw, Tigerpaw, Molepaw, Goatpaw, and Silentpaw. At her first gathering she meets another apprentice, maybe a few moons older, from the other clan: Jewelpaw. The two hit it off and become good friends (and develop little mutual crushes). Sheeppaw also sneaks out and meets a kittypet: Player, who she also becomes very good friends with.

When her mentor, the deputy, Shadowstalk fails her on her final warrior assessment she pretty much has most of the same reaction as the show, just in the WC style.

After witnessing a murder, she hightails it out of there and encounters the newly named Crackletail. Panicked, she hastily and vaguely tells him she saw something and needs to Leave.

She makes it to Players yard and lays low for a while, and he introduces her to the neighbor cats, a sibling pair named Zack and Ivy. The four brainstorm and Sheeppaw is renamed Carmen. They know they cant let VILE keep doing what they're doing. So rogue Carmen and her kittypet friends start figuring things out from behind the scenes.

Pirate Cat:

Exactly as it says, bipedal cat world. Black Sheep was dropped off at a random orphanage in England, with a small stuffed black sheep (where she got her name). Since everybody are cats, Black Sheep isn't that atypical of a name. Sorta a mix of normal people names and cat names.

She grows up there alongside her self-appointed older brother Graham. When she's about 10-11ish she meets the princess: Julia Argent. Childhood friends to lovers letsgoo (its a recurring theme in these lol. its cute i like it).

The two eventually get together (in secret, yay homophobia and also societal status) It doesn't help that Black Sheep had a habit of getting in trouble so she could see the princess her princess.

The two get caught one night, and Black Sheep is nearly executed for "corrupting royalty", but Julia manages to talk her father down from that. Instead, she is exiled. If she ever sets foot in the kingdom after dawn, she WILL be killed this time.

Julia visits one last time, and Black Sheep promises to return someday when she finds somewhere where they can be together freely. She gives Julia her stuffed sheep to look after while she's gone, and asks her to take care of Fuega while she's gone (on one of their sneak-outs, they found a baby dragon that Julia managed to convince her dad to let her keep). Julia gives her the triangle choker. yay tearful goodbyes ;-;

Black Sheep and Graham (because no way is he letting his little sister go into exile without him) go from place to place, stealing when they need to and end up accidentally stowing away on a VILE pirate ship.

VILE pirate training to avoid death, they escape. Graham appoints the newly named Carmen Sandiego captain of their little ship, and they also pick up Zack, Ivy, and Player along the way. Carmen becomes very well known around the globe: civilians/lower class people see her as a Robin Hood hero (correct), while most royals and nobles see her as nothing but a filthy pirate (incorrect).

A few years go by when suddenly the crew gets word that the King of England is trying to marry off his daughter, who has recently come of age. Cue panicked race home + childhood lover reunion.

Daughter of Poseidon (Carmen Sandiego and the Olympians):

Percy Jackson AU! Replace Percy with Carmen, Grover with Player, Annabeth with Julia, and switch/move around some plot points and that's about it lol. I keep telling myself I'll do some scene rewrites of this one so we'll see. Includes PJO and HOO acting as prequels for Carmen Sandiego. Def wanna do dome rewrites for the canon show for this AU too lol

Dino Squad:

I'm out here combining one obscure kids show with another lol. If you haven't seen it, Dino Squad is this early 2000s animated show about these 5 teenagers that get mutated and can turn into dinosaurs, and go around stopping the bad guy from turning everything into dinosaurs. (I think the entire series may be on youtube lol. its goofy but man i loved it as a kid. i wanted dino powers so bad)

This is basically a high school au but most of Team Red has dinosaur powers. :P

In this, Dr. Bellum is experimenting with bringing dinosaurs back, but instead of just cloning them, she figures out how to mutate already-existing organisms into others.

(in the OG dino squad, the bad guy IS a dinosaur that evolved into a human--long story--and believes everything should still be dinosaurs. hes technically right, tbf, if the meteor hadn't hit they prolly still WOULD be dinosaurs. why does bellum want dinosaurs? because she's Bellum and she Can lol)

Carmen Wolfe and her twin brother Graham (they're fraternal twins. why? bc i thought it would be funny. yes he still has his accent. its my world i do what i want) are raised by Carlotta and Dexter Wolfe in Kittery Point, Maine. Carlotta is a paleontologist/biologist and Dexter is a history and geography teacher at the high school. They do know of VILE and what Bellum was working on and have been monitoring it in secret from the kids.

Carmen and Julia are those friends that met bc they were both hiding under the slide in like. Preschool and just stayed friends lol. They're the kind of best friends that will just. Show Up. usually Julia at Carmen's house because "You have better snacks" also Julia's parents just Don't Like Carmen. (Why? idk bc i said so. idk they think she's a bad influence. she's really not lol) Literally Julia has like a spot on the couch and a table setting. She's basically the third twin these three have known each other essentially their entire lives.

Zack and Ivy joined the group in middle school, when Ivy had the same class as Carmen, Julia, and Gray. Zack joined via association. (Zack and Ivy, on the other hand are not twins. again. bc its funny. each sibling pair thought the other was like them. zack and ivy thought Carmen and Gray were just normal siblings, and Carmen and Gray thought Zack and Ivy were twins. Julia had to explain to all of them it was not the case lol)

Player is Carmen's online friend that the whole group includes. they all game together and he gets ALL the public school tea. hes about the same age as Zack, so about a year-ish younger than Carmen, Gray, Ivy, and Julia.

At the end of their freshman year, Carmen and Julia start dating. Their friends and Carmen's parents know, they keep it secret from everyone else. At the end of the summer everybody (aside from Player) go to the beach for one last day of freedom before school starts. They swim through the mutant goo, and over the next few days discover their powers.

Carlotta IDs each dino: Carmen is a (large/person sized) pyroraptor, Gray is a T. rex, Julia is a troodon, and I still cant decide on Zack and Ivy's dino forms lol. Carlotta and Dexter explain the whole VILE thing and the group just kinda simultaneously goes "welp guess we're superheroes now. cool"

so yea dealing w highschool and also mutant dinosaurs and superpowers. this ones fun bc they can just be stupid kids lol

The Last Wolf:

My werewolf AU. The one that started all this mess and my love for making AUs of this show. It was my first fanfic i ever wrote, and it is very near to my heart. it's also gotten out of hand and become a franchise at this point it's ridiculous. (Seriously i've got a prequel of her parents planned and also a series of shorts set in the universe) It's gonna be a long ride, boys. Hope people still like CS by the time it's done lol

A Thief's Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse:

Zombie apocalypse AU! Talked about this one a bit for AU day, and also as of this post I have ~1k words written of the first chapter! I also have a bunch of the major plot points outlined too ;) I wouldn't expect anything soon tho lol.

She wears a wetsuit under the coat bc it's really hard to bite through, especially with rotten jaws. She's got some boots she probably scavenged or traded for, and of course: the Walkman she probably found looting some abandoned building. She collects cassettes to listen to. Gotta keep sane in the end of the world.

How is this one a literal apocalypse and its still more lighthearted than the one based on FNAF lol

Redd Wolf (Five Nights at Redd's):

FNAF AU. I've truly lost it lol. I have this one completely outlined, nothing written but a lot of things are VERY clear in my mind. This ones uh. a lot more intense than even Thief's Guide. It's FNAF. its immense violence and child death. Seriously, Carmen, Player, Gray, Ivy, Zack, and Julia all end up possessing animatronics at some point. It ends happily, but it is based off a horror thing so if that's not your thing b careful <3

its supposed to be more of a mystery that gets unraveled, but if anyone wants specifics of it u can drop an ask :) i only have animatronic designs for Carmen, Julia, and Gray so far tho. I have ideas for the others too.

This is one I wanna share with y'all at some point. its probably the shortest of the AUs I have outlined so far, so yk. maybe in this lifetime lol.

Carmen and the Age of Wonderbeasts:

Mega Jaguar Carmen. This ones more of a ~vibe~ than an actual plot but i like drawing mega jag carm :)

Plushie Dragon:

This one's not an AU, but actually based on doodles of these 2 plush dragons! Matching red/gold and blue/silver dragons named after carmen and julia lol. I'll get around to posting more drawings of em cause they're cute

the plushies <3 (they have spikes u just cant see em:

ik they look goofy i lov them anyways

Wings of Fire:

Wings of Fire AU! Carmen is a rainwing/skywing hybrid (rainwing dad, skywing mom) She can camoflauge, fly decently fast, and has a prehensile tail. She can't breathe fire or use typical venom, BUT she figures out her venom, while not face-melting by itself, IS in fact flammable. again, more of a ~vibe~ than a story and plot, but I like drawing dragons.

Canon Carmen:

She's front and center, the one that started all this.

Way back in 2019, the autism and ADHD departments in my brain came to an agreement: This show is the greatest show of all time.

It was the first fandom I actively contributed to/interacted with. (I still read fics from other fandoms before, but had never been active in a fandom) Like I mentioned with Last Wolf, I had never actually written fanfiction before, and definitely never posted it. I love writing and telling stories (and boy howdy do I have A Lot of stories rolling around my brain). between all of the AUs ive come up with, I've gotten to practice so much worldbuilding and characterization. English classes usually focused on expository stuff, with like. a brief fiction writing thing. So I've definitely gotten to stretch my creative writing muscles with this show, and hopefully I can put em to use on original projects someday <3

I fell in love with the first season, and got ridiculously excited for every new season and the interactive. (heck, i played every possible option for the interactive the day it came out, and binged every subsequent season the day they aired.)

This show has been a big part of my life the last five years, and the original show will always be special to me. It's the reason I started learning to draw people lol, I have a drawing of Carmen from 2020 that I'm still really proud of. It's hung on my bedroom wall to this day.

So thank you, Carmen Sandiego. For everything.

[catrionaalexandra]

Chapter 11 — The Mirror Bleeds, Part 2/2

Resident Evil: Sable Dawn

“…the monster that watches back.”

The Subterranean Server Room

Red blinked erratically across the room, casting jagged shadows along the steel walls like wounds opening and closing.

The servers hummed—not with mechanical efficiency, but with a grotesque rhythm, like a death rattle stuck on repeat.

Towering machines loomed in graveyard rows, exhaling heat in steady, stifling breaths.

The floor sweated condensation, an old sterile mix of ozone and something vaguely medicinal. Overhead, metal groaned, and something heavy scuttled through the ductwork. It wasn’t a rat; the movement was too deliberate and big.

Leon worked the terminal, fingers flying across the keys. Encrypted logs barreled toward Claire’s uplink, the signal crackling into clarity with one final shriek of white noise before falling silent.

He turned slowly toward Y/n. The emergency lights painted his face in strokes of crimson, “You think this Ivy clone is freelancing?” His voice was low, tight, the kind of tension that coils before it strikes.

It wasn’t fear in his voice, it was colder, harder and protective.

Y/n stared at the screen, her eyes unblinking, as if watching something beyond it.

Years of buried trauma and code-borne memories swam just beneath the surface. “No,” she murmured, “This isn’t instinct, it’s choreography.” Y/n took a small, flustered breath, “She’s not thinking—she’s following. She’s been programmed.”

Leon’s jaw locked, his body angled subtly toward the door, bracing for what might come, “So what’s her endgame?”

Y/n’s reply was quaint, a jagged whisper, frayed at the edges. “She wants to become me, to pick up where Margot failed. Not to defeat me, but to inherit. Umbrella didn’t die; it went dormant, and now she’s its resurrection.”

Leon let out a sharp breath, a sound that caught between a scoff and a curse, “Over my dead body.”

Y/n looked up at Leon, really looked. The red light twisted his features—half in shadow, half in crimson-hue, “I used to think I was Umbrella’s biggest mistake.”

Leon stepped closer, boots silent on the slick steel. His voice was quiet, but laced with lethal conviction, “You’re not a mistake, you’re what survived.”

Behind them, the server’s cooling unit groaned, sounding like something was taking its last breath.

Thornbridge Facility – Below Level Omega

Beneath the surface, in a chamber devoid of human presence, the Ivy clone stood motionless.

A sculpture of intent and cruelty, cold beams of surgical light misting through the darkness.

Her armor was matte black—tactical, anonymous and fitting.

Before her, a hologram flickered—Y/n’s face distorted at the edges, like a ghost trying to recall its identity.

“I know her,” she said, her voice was flat and empty, her lips barely moved, and her eyes unblinking.

“You don’t know her,” came a bark from the platform above, a voice cracked like dried leather. “She’s your target, retrieve the neural core, no complications.”

The clone didn’t even look, “She’s outdated,” she replied. “I don’t destroy the past; I overwrite it.”

In the reflection of the surgical wall, her movements lagged, half a breath behind.

—

The walls seemed to breathe, or perhaps it was just Y/n’s pounding heartbeat echoing in her skull as they watched a green light flicker where no signal should be.

Someone was inside the system, tracking them.

“Leon,” Y/n said, barely a breath. “They’ve found us.”

An alarm screamed into existence—sharp, animal, and guttural.

Red lights flashed as steel doors slammed shut, transforming the hallway into a vertical coffin. Footsteps echoed in the distance—metal on metal—but something was wrong.

The footsteps were too heavy, too perfect.

Leon appeared in the doorway, rifle at the ready, “We’ve got five minutes!”

They ran down corridors that pulsed like arteries, chased by sirens and smoke.

Sparks flew from overhead wiring, and the air stank of rot and blood. Inhuman, engineered soldiers poured in, their faces twisted like memories of pain that never stopped screaming.

Y/n hit the junction and spun to fire. The shot pierced through a creature’s eye, scattering its kin in a jerking red mist.

Behind her, Leon took out a vent column, collapsing the corridor with a howl of torn steel.

Then—stillness. It was brief and fragile.

A sound emerged, not sirens, not metal.

A voice.

“You still running, Ivy?”

It drifted like perfume through the smoke—sweet, familiar and poisoned.

Y/n froze, her veins recognized the voice before her mind did.

From the haze, she stepped forward. The Ivy clone was untouched and unburned.

Her body cut through the debris like it wasn’t real.

Same voice, same face, same walk. But her eyes glimmered with something eternal.

“You can’t be,” Y/n hissed, raising her gun.

The clone tilted her head, her lips curling into something cruel, “I’m exactly what they wanted. You? You were the broken version.”

Leon moved in front of Y/n, rifle levelled, “Get behind me.”

But Y/n didn’t move.

Her gaze stayed fixed on the ghost in her skin, “No, this one’s mine.”

<- Previous Next ->

[saym0-0]

what do you think the mechs would be avatars of? my first thought was slaughter for the group as a whole bc,, duh. but now that im thinking about it, i think they'd be more eye/end aligned. because their whole thing is stories and the part they clearly deem most important is the end right? theres all the blood and gore in the middle but the important bit is everyone dies at the end

individually though, not as a whole group they're all sorts of stuff i think

ashes would be desolation for sure with all the fire and the likes, and hades makes me think web too? they're the one behind the scenes pulling the strings (granted, usually for their own entertainment but who can blame em really)

toy soldier would be stranger, once again for obvious reasons. im not really sure if theres much crossover on this one really.

jonny i reckon would be eye and slaughter, mans cares for two things and its violent crime and a good story (amen!)

brian is SO lonely coded like?? its in the backstory song man,, also vague end-ness probably, though tbf they probably all have that end cloud by virtue of being the mechanisms. maybe vast too

tim would be slaughter too, he loves a good murder spree but i feel like theres something else and ive just forgotten like half the fears lmao OUGH hunt maybe? tim goes crazy is very hunt coded

ivy is SO immensely eye. she's literally an archivist. she gathers and stores aaallll that information but her emotional connection to it is reset every night. thats so eye!!

nastya is definitely lonely, at least towards the end but probably the whole time (from what little i know of cyberian demons) and maybe dark? that ones 100% vibes i have no explanation

marius has very spiral vibes i think. hes just a silly guy ur honour i think he deserves it. i cant really think of any other one for him tbh

and raph is quite stranger coded i think, idk the detachment from humanity that comes with being a mad scientist just feels very stranger to me? more so than the average mechs detatchment from humanity

i dont know why i made this post but ive been rotating end/eye mechs in my brain for a couple days just because i think the idea of s5 jmart stumbling across a domain thats kind of an accumulation of the various album aettings and music that can be heard from anywhere in the domain and victims living/reliving the parts of the characters is very very cool and i needed to word vomit it somewhere

[silkfms]

LENORA “LENNY” VÉLEZ

faceclaim: adria arjona date of birth & age: october 27th, 34 years old (scorpio) nickname(s): len, lenny, your worst nightmare gender & pronouns: cisfemale, she/her occupation: criminal defense attorney by day, palmview's fave problem solver by night length of residency & neighborhood: palmview born & raised (we love a local!), emerald point

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚ Courtroom Calm, Backroom Chaos: Lenny’s Aesthetic ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚

lenny moves like someone who’s always two steps ahead — graceful, contained, dangerous if crossed. standing at 5'7" with dark eyes that don’t flinch and a voice that cuts cleaner than a scalpel, she wears sleek tailoring with the ease of someone born to command a room. her hair falls in loose waves she rarely fusses over, and her jewelry is always minimal but intentional. people remember the way she looks at them — like she’s already figured out what they’ll say next.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚ Two Worlds, One Code: Lenny’s Soul ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚

she’s the kind of woman you never quite pin down. charming in court, chilling when crossed. lenny lives in the grey — defending the guilty, protecting the powerful, and deciding for herself where the line is drawn. her moral compass doesn’t point north, it points inward. pragmatic, intensely loyal, and strategic to the core, she thrives in chaos and never loses her cool. beneath the calm, there’s grit — the kind only decades in palmview can breed. she plays the long game, always.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚ Born of the City: Lenny’s Story ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚

palmview raised her and hardened her — and she’s never left. daughter of a local bartender and a mechanic, lenny grew up watching people try to survive the system. so she learned how to beat it. scholarship kid turned ivy grad, she returned home not to escape her roots but to weaponize them. by day, she defends clients no one else will touch; by night, she cleans up messes for those too rich to fail. her name’s not in the headlines, but it shows up in the right people’s phones when trouble hits.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚ Strategic and Sharp: Lenny’s Skills ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚

legal expertise: one of palmview’s best — quick with a counterargument and even quicker with results. her win record speaks for itself.

discreet operations: need a scandal buried? a witness relocated? lenny makes problems go away quietly, no questions asked.

networked to the bone: she knows everyone — judges, cops, reporters, back alley medics. her power lies in who owes her favors.

emotional control: lenny doesn’t crack. not in court. not when it counts. her ability to stay calm under pressure is what makes her so dangerous.

street sense: growing up in palmview taught her to read danger and opportunity like language. she moves through the city like it’s her own chessboard.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚ Ties That Bind: Lenny’s Relationships ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚

rosie velez (mother): strong-willed and sharp-tongued. she loves hard and fights harder.

luis velez (father, deceased): a quiet man with oil-stained hands and a heart too soft for the city. she still wears his old watch.

inner circle: few and far between, but fiercely protected. if lenny calls you family, she’ll bury bodies for you (or with you).

romantic history: complicated. her lovers often fall too hard, and she never falls at all. she keeps things temporary — easier that way.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚ Words That Echo: Lenny’s Quotes ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚

“no one’s innocent — just unproven.”

“you pay me to win, not to judge.”

“trust is a currency. i just don’t spend mine.”

“some people burn bridges. i build mine with gasoline.”

“clean hands never built empires.”

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚ Behind the Briefcase: Lenny’s Secrets ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚

writes everything in fountain pen — blue ink only. she says it makes her think clearer. it’s also harder to forge.

cracks her neck before walking into court — a small, sharp gesture that snaps her into focus.

keeps her nails perfectly manicured — not for vanity, but control. she believes people treat her differently when she looks untouchable.

never drinks coffee in court — always water. her father used to say: “caffeine makes the guilty twitch.”

has multiple phones: one personal, one for clients, and one burner she only answers after midnight.

leaves voice memos to herself instead of journaling — usually while driving or pacing. never listens back.

sleeps with the tv on low volume — says silence makes her feel like something’s about to go wrong.

touches her necklace when she’s thinking — a thin gold chain from her late abuela.

never apologizes unless she means it — which is rare. if you get an “i’m sorry” from lenny, it’s loaded.

gives people nicknames — always subtle and sometimes a little mocking, but they stick.

uses sarcasm like a weapon — but softens it for people she actually likes.

[ails-of-ardor-au]

The three potential powers sound something sorta to what a leaders “lives” are… so what if, left alone and reeling for some sort of safety, Leafpool takes her heavily pregnant self to the Moonpool? She had a rough kitting in canon so maybe she was dying to. Pleading that maybe in some way the stars she always put over everything else would save her this once. She’d always follow them she swears- as she slides into their holy pool.

Adds another line to the kits having a sort of forbidden birth. Not only from another clan but also only ever breathing because the stars saved them. Some once it’s revealed in whatever way may scream that they weren’t even supposed to be born- others bow and beg for mercy from these miracle children. Idk how to word it but something about the water of the womb instead being of stars sacrifice, the kits breathe and sustain off the “magic” (radioactivity) of the pool. Tho I am now realizing this throws a huge wrench in with Dovewing cuz she’s not of that original litter. Maybe explain Holly’s lack of powers due to her having been delivered before her mother went in. Oh but maybe if some of the clan cats saw the three as great saviors of sorts, when the one disappears presumed dead, they take the actively in labor queen and put her in the pool, hoping it’ll save whatever prophecy they believe they’re going to be doomed by. Dovekit is born this way, giving her powers in an incredibly scary way, but also harming her just as the other two of the three are hurt.

Idk if this works in universe but a possible idea :D

This is a really cool idea… But I’m not sure how much I could work it into the plot… I’ll keep it in mind 👀

OKAY RAMBLINGS:

For starters, the idea of Leafpool’s litter being forbidden not only because of their halfClan status, but also due to the fact that their mother trespassed into holy grounds in a desperate attempt to keep herself and her children alive… So good, so so tasty…

My ideas for how to spread this “magic” amongst the “chosen”, which will not be limited just to The Three, but will likely include a cat from each Clan:

Leafpool and Sol hook up. Sol, shortly after Leafpool discovers her pregnancy, is labeled a criminal and a danger to the Clans’ very way of life…

Leafpool’s pregnancy is long and hard. Expectant queens will sometimes slip off to be by themselves (an irl cat behavior, feeling restless and trying to find the perfect safe space), so when Leafpool disappears, ThunderClan isn’t especially worried. But Squirrelflight, driven by concern for her sister, chases after her and finds her in labor and losing far too much blood near the path of the moonpool; Leafpool had been aiming for the lands beyond, because she was desperate for Sol’s presence and comfort, and her pain was blinding her rationale.

Squirrelflight drags her sister to the moonpool, despite knowing full well what a massive invasion and crime this is. But Squirrelflight would much rather put the lives of her loved ones over the warrior code. Leafpool survives her kitting, and has a litter of three… but rejects most of them, partially due to the power (radiation) of the moonpool within her.

Somehow, Squirrelflight manages to hand two of the kits to two of Leafpool’s (or maybe Squirrelflight’s own, as a final favor) old flames: Mothwing and Crowfeather. Hollykit goes to WindClan, and Lionkit goes to RiverClan; where Hollykit is in such close proximity to the also newborn and very weak Breezekit, some of the moonpool’s power latches onto him in turn.

Meanwhile, in ShadowClan, a pair of kits are born secretly of their leader — and the Clan’s concerns about a leader’s blood carrying magic to taint their kin come true. (Dove and Ivy, OR, Dawn, Flame, and Tiger tho I’m thinking of nixing Tiger entirely)

And then uhhh…… Some outsider also with magic. I’m thinking maybe Darktail possibly being born into SkyClan though...

Depending on the status of BloodClan at the time, I’m also thinking that they follow the other Clans to the lake, so we could get a BloodClan protagonist as well…

But anyway, there’s going to be multiple “blessed” kids running around the lake, but only four of them (one from each of the original Clans) will actually be uhhhh “important” for a lack of a better word; their powers will pose a direct wall against a new, grand threat that rises against the Clans: i.e., the Dark Forest (though I’m still figuring out their whole deal… I mentioned beforehand that I wanted ghosts to stick around, both for the sake of this event as well for the Sisters, so I’m thinking maybe like.. mass possession dealie. The dead unable to come to terms with staying dead, so they haunt and “infect” the living to tear the Clans down from the inside)…

[breakandbuildfiction]

Another Rant About DPxDC Tropes

I didn’t write out all my thoughts on everything in the DPxDC fandom last time, so I decided to write this follow up with some more of them. This time I will primarily be focusing on how people go about using specific characters and their inter-character relationships.

Watering Down and Glorifying Female Characters:

I’ve noticed that this is a theme across a LOT of not only DPxDC fics and prompts, but across a lot of the fanworks for the individual franchises. People will ignore the flaws and shortcomings of female characters and overblow their positive traits purely to make them look more badass or scary compared to the male characters or to make other characters relient on them. Here are some examples:

Poison Ivy: People like to write Poison Ivy as some cool bad girl bent on environmentalism, that she’s pricily but full of ‘cool aunt’ energy. But they ignore the fact that her entire thing is drugging, mind controlling, sexually assulting, and murdering people in the name of environmental terrorism and in some itterations global genocide. She is not by any means someone a hero should be chill with outside of absolutly desperate situations, and even then she should be the second choice after Swamp Thing.

Harley Quinn: She is literally a psycopath suffering from an obsessive love disorder– that she has done a great deal to overcome– who has no problems maiming, crippling, and killing anyone who gets between her and whatever it is she wants at the moment. At her most ‘restrained’ she is working with Batman to hunt down the Joker– with her intent being to kill him– or is on the Suicide Squad taking some weird comfort in being around equally fucked up people and being assured in the knowledge that her murderous tendencies are being used for some level of ‘good’. She was also a very shitty psyciatrist who in many itterations slept her way into passing college and didn’t even last a full year as a lisenced practitioner before joining the Joker. Yes she is trying to be a better person, but she is NOT by any means a good person.

Black Canary: I think the thing I dislike most about how people treat Black Canary is that they hyperfixate on the pseudo-mom characteristics and emergency therapist role she was given in the Young Justice cartoon. I’ll admit that I haven’t read a ton of her comics, but I HAVE read some and I have watched the Justice League Unlimited cartoon as well. With that in mind I feel like people are tragically focusing on the wrong parts of her personality. She is shown to be stand offish, headstrong, confrontational, brash, and manipulative. She isn’t hero-mom coded, she is a femm fatal back street brawler who is fully open to playing off her allies ego to make them do what she wants if she can and leveraging her power and skill at violence to get what she wants. Yes she is a hero and yes she has a softer side, but god damn!

Wonder Woman: This actually goes for all Amazons of Themyscira but here it goes. Wonder Woman grew up in an extremely isolationist, xenophobic, and misandrist (Even if you ignore the run that said the island’s inhabitants are all literal murdering rapists who drown babies. I don’t think that run has been canon for a while anyways.) island nation that was literally blessed by the gods to never have to deal with things like political upheavals, drought, famine, foreign relations, or any other complexaties that real countries have to deal with. Now, to her credit, Wonder Woman isn’t NEARLY as bad as some of her countrywomen, but that doesn’t mean her upbrining hasn’t influenced her worldview and she certainly has never condemned the policies of her nation. She doesn’t treat men as scum outright by any means, but she DOES ignore the shortcomings of women and sees most if not all the troubles of the world as being the fault of the male sex. Just because the woman is empathic does not mean she isn’t a bitch. Also, base Wonder Woman would and has been dogged by base Superman many times. She is maybe the fourth or fifth most powerful JL member goes by base state abilities behind Superman, Martian Manhunter, Shazam, and maybe the Flash. That said, there are forms of Wonder Woman who would make all other base state JL members look like preschoolers pretending to be tough.

Jazz Fenton: Jazz is not a good psychologist or therapist in her teenage years. If you want to age her into her mid-twenties or later after she goes through a proper program, then by all means make her better at helping people with mental and emotional issues. But as a teen she is god aweful at those things. There is a grand total of ONE instance where she showcases actual skill at being able to pin down and identify someone’s issues and that was with Freakshow, whom in that very conversation she admits to having grown up with many of the same feelings he did regarding envy of ghosts and the attention people in her life give them. She never figured out Danny was a hero due to her skill at psychology or determining the cause of his stress, she stumbled onto him transforming after days or even weeks of forcing herself into his business and him asking and then demanding her to leave him alone. Not only this but, and I feel like this should be a very big thing with how much people love to shoehorn in trans-Danny stuff, she routinely calls people by the wrong name even when corrected by others and is told to her face by the people she is misnaming that she is wrong. Some of her names are even dehumanizing like calling Skulker ‘Ghost X’ like he’s nothing but a test subject!

Also, while I’m pretty sure she would qualify as a skilled CQC fighter, I don’t think she ever improved her aim. So while having her judo throw someone or deck them in the schnoz is good, she would probably miss if she had to shoot anyone with a Fenton Blaster at anything further than point blank range. And no, the Peeler doesn’t count, that shit was a full on mechsuit and shots that had a margin of error bigger than a car.

Valerie Grey: This one is a big one for me and probably the big reason I wanted to write this entire section so here it goes:

Valerie Grey ain’t SHIT as a hero.

Now, as a character, she is perfectly fine. She has a full arc with reasonable and understandable reactions to various events that shape her growth as a character. Granted these events make her into a shoot-first, speciesist, possibly slur-throwing, self-righteous, asshole for a while (you know how the ACAB movement sees cops? That was Valerie for a long time, just without government backing and with an oligarch sponsor instead.) but she did eventually get better after the whole thing with Dani and finding out that Vlad is Plasmious. So again, as a character she is good.

As a HERO however, she is really freaking bad. We never really see her do anything major after her revelation with Dani and before that she never actually wins any fights. Danny is always so far out of her league in fights that the only reason she isn’t dead is because he knows who she is under the mask and holds back because he doesn’t want to hurt her. He was capable of blowing up her original suit in a single blast for crying out loud! And even in her second suit he barely had any trouble keeping pace with her WHEN HE WAS ACTIVLY TRYING NOT TO HURT HER! We also never see her defeat any named ghost, I barely remember her even fighting anyone other than Danny, and she is overall just fodder as far as combat goes.

She isn’t scary, she isn’t intimidating, she isn’t the type of girl who could ‘kick Danny’s ass’, she is at best a pissed off woman with a lot of guns and fancy gadgets who thinks she's hot shit despite never winning a significant fight. 

Heroes are friends with all the Rogues… Except Joker:

Just… why? Why do people want the heroes to be friends with mass-murdering nutjobs? Be it Danny with Ivy who is basically Undergrowth with tits and a pulse, or Tucker with Technus, or Tim Drake with Harley Quinn it doesn’t make any sense! This isn’t a case of ‘Oh, when they aren’t on the job they are cool people’ like with Flash’s rogues. Nor do they have admirable moral codes or anything else. That kind of stuff is exclusive to Flash’s gallery. Why does everyone write hero or retired Danny as being friendly with villains and thinking they are cool people?! Killer Crock has a tragic backstory but he EATS PEOPLE. Scarecrow makes stuff you could call ghost drugs but he conducts routine chemical weapon attacks on civilian populations! Deathstroke is a pedo or groomer in at least two major timelines! Ra’s runs a cult that kills its OWN MEMBERS whenever they fail near-impossible tasks! Just because they aren’t as full on 24/7 creepy fucker murderers doesn’t mean they are any better than him!

On that note, why do people insist on having Sam idolize Poison Ivy or Jazz admire Harley Quinn? I don’t have a high opinion of Sam and how she goes about her activism and forcing her lifestyle and beliefs on others, but she doesn’t go around drugging people, stealing their money, forcing them to ruin their families, and then killing them! And I like to think that even if Jazz isn’t a good psychologist she would have better taste than to idolize someone who broke a very basic tenant of mental health professionals by getting too attached to her patient and went on to COMMIT MASS MURDER and help TORTURE PEOPLE in an effort of turning on her psychotic boyfriend! 

Hating Superman on Kon-El’s behalf:

I get that this trope stems from season 1 of Young Justice, which I will freely admit is an amazing season of a very good show, but I think people forget a few things: 1, Superman’s hatred/distrust of Conner manifests in avoiding him at all costs, not being rude or badmouthing him or anything of the sort, he just doesn’t want to deal with him and what Conner represents. 2, Superman grows out of his hatred/distrust of Conner in like, a year. It was an initial kneejerk reaction paired with extreme awkwardness and distress, but his stance on his clone-son with Lex does get better. And 3, the one who actually hates clones is Supergirl, Kara Zor-El. She straight up gave Conner his Kryptonian name and told him TO HIS FACE that it meant ‘Abomination in the House of El’. She basically named him a slur and said that was all he was. And as far as I am aware, she never apologizes for this nor does their relationship ever really improve beyond ‘we will work together if we absolutely have to’.

Dani and Dan call Danny ‘mom’ ((CONTENT WARNING: Mentions of SA!!!)):

Okay this one is a bit weird for this rant because I will freely admit that depending on if certain other tropes are used concurrently to this one, it makes sense, but by default I say it doesn’t. Ignoring how Danny is by default and in most cases male, his contribution to the ‘conception’ and gestation of Dani or Dan’s clone body (if you ignore A Glitch In Time and have Dan in his original body, Danny still didn’t do any gestation or anything, but things are admittingly different) only went so far as providing some DNA. Vlad did the whole cultivation thing and making sure the decanting happened safely and all that good, very important, stuff. So wouldn’t Danny be the dad in this scenario? Since the equivalent to a regular birth here would be Danny hitting and quitting with Vlad (que barfing reflex at the thought of Danny/Vlad stuff) purposely getting a baby made without Danny’s knowledge for his own benefit and desire for a child? Even if you go by the more accurate real life correlation to SA, Danny still played a male role here because he didn’t carry/grow the baby/clone.

The only reasons I can see for Danny to be labled the ‘mom’ in this situation are; Danny is more nurturing than Vlad– which by a sexist standard means he’s the maternal one–, Danny was the victim in the unauthorized baby making and is thus in the female role– again, a sexist standard–, or because people think ‘single parent’ and immediately assume ‘single mother’. (To be clear, I know that statistically women suffer all forms of SA far more often than men, which is beyond terrible, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen the other way around as well.)

Now, to be fair, if you are also doing trans-man Danny, none of this holds weight and them calling Danny ‘mom’ could stem from that, or because saying Vlad had a kid with a teenaged trans-man makes Vlad look SO much worse and by calling Danny ‘mom’ they are trying to imply that kind of narrative. Which is not a terrible way of writing a story where Danny, Dani, and Dan all hate Vlad, go for the throat and make him look as bad as possible if that’s your goal. I’m just saying that in the default state of Danny being male and Vlad being the one who looked over the cloning pods, Danny is the dad and Vlad is the mom.