#source; in plain sight 2

[abyss-boxes]

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Part 2 of 3 requests for @thevinylshop !! Enjoy

[incorrect-bhaalspawn-quotes]

Anomen: You think pretty high of yourself.

Viconia: Not at all. Just lowly of men.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

do you have any tips for a character who's initially seen as a comedic relief/not taken seriously character, and then at the end, BAM they were the villain all along and were pulling the strings from the shadows? thankss

Writing Ideas: Hidden Villains

some related tropes

Examples: Comedic Relief Character Tropes

Bad Liar: Someone who is terrible at telling lies.

Beware the Silly Ones: Character who acts silly but is also quite dangerous.

Born Unlucky: Bad things happen to this character on a daily basis.

Cannot Convey Sarcasm: A character who tries and fails to be snarky.

Cannot Tell a Joke: Someone who tells really lame and unfunny jokes.

Casanova Wannabe: A would-be womanizer who thinks they're great with the ladies, but are anything but.

Lovable Coward: A cowardly character whom one still wants to root for.

The Prankster: Someone who plays practical jokes on others for their own amusement.

"Hidden Villain" Trope

A situation where a Story Arc contains a villain whose identity is not known until much later.

This could be a result of the heroes going against The Faceless, requiring only a look under the mask to understand everything.

In most cases, this is an inversion of the Hidden Agenda Villain, where we know that something bad is happening and the Driving Question is the one behind it all.

The Reveal may involve a dramatic Emerging from the Shadows.

"Hijacked by Ganon" Trope: If the Hidden Villain turns out to be a previously known antagonist.

"The Dog Was the Mastermind" Trope: If it was someone who was never suspected at all. The Hidden Villain turns out to be about the least conspicuous person possible.

"Evil All Along" Trope: A seemingly good character turns out to be evil.

"The Man in Front of the Man" Trope: If the villain was Hidden in Plain Sight.

"Laughably Evil" Trope

The villain that makes you laugh.

It might be because they’re an idiot, it might be that you empathize with them, it might be because they’re quick with a quip, or it might be simply that their actions are so unexpected.

Funny does not always equal weak.

Some villains can cause a chuckle from the audience, right before viciously thwarting the hero's best efforts.

If done correctly, the very things that make a villain qualify can make them downright disturbing once they begin crossing the Moral Event Horizon.

Villain laughing at faking someone out with a gun with a "BANG!" flag coming out? Funny. Same villain doing the exact same laugh when shooting them for real a few seconds later? Creepy.

A truly well written one can manage to pull off both at once.

Just because a character qualifies, it does not prevent them from being completely evil and there are many villains that manage to be both. In these cases, what makes them funny also makes them very unsettling because of how much fun they have committing the most horrific acts possible.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

You can use tropes as a guide to initially develop your character. For example, choose one of (or combine/modify) the above Comedic Relief Character tropes (a longer list is in the source to provide you with more ideas) to portray your villain prior to The Reveal, and slowly incorporate characteristics of the Hidden Villain and/or Laughably Evil tropes until they are revealed as the villain. You can find examples of media portrayals of these tropes for inspiration in the links. All the best with your writing!

More: On Writing Villains

Villain Archetypes ⚜ Notes: Villains ⚜ Villain Motivations

An Unforgettable Villain ⚜ Anti-Villain ⚜ Villain Monologue

Sympathetic Villain ⚜ Your Villain's Evil Plan

[carminechrollo]

Hey! Can you please write for Yan!Chrollo with a morning hard-on x Fem!Reader? :3

CONTENT WARNING: dark content (read at your own risk), yandere!chrollo, non-con, somnophilia, smut (mdni), implied killing (brief), implied stalking (brief), implied drugging (brief), dry humping, unprotected sex but no creampie, p in v, porn without plot.

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

NOTES: hi hi nonnie!! i had fun writing this one, thank you for this :3 i do hope its up to your standard! lmk your thoughts <3

It was another peaceful early morning; birds sung upon the first rays; skies tinged with rosy hues; streets were devoid of any individuals. It was perfect—well, no, almost perfect for two reasons: 1) you weren’t beside Chrollo, instead, he was greeted at the sight of his plain ivory beddings, and 2) he could feel a rather intense throbbing at the apex of his legs.

Each idle second spent had his cock growing with pure lust that only you could satisfy—not his own hand, definitely not a cheap little sex toy, you.

Who was he to devoid himself of that pleasure?

A tired groan escaped his velvet lips as he rolled off the bed, Chrollo was a naturally patient man but not when it came to satiating one’s carnal desire.

So, to take matters into his own hands, he quietly stepped out of his apartment, the metal door behind him closing with a soft thud as the cool morning air engulfed his warm body. He was still in his pyjamas, the ebony strands on his head sat dishevelled, revealing his sharp brows and the unique tattoo between them.

Chrollo walked down the open corridor, the soles of his slippers padding along the concrete beneath. You only lived next door to him, making it a very convenient trip for the latter—though, it wasn’t a mere coincidence, no.

After months of keeping an eye on the apartment building you lived in, Chrollo had seized the opportunity of living right next door but of course, that wasn’t without having to get rid of the sweet, sweet couple that once stayed in the apartment he now resided in.

He stopped before your door, an unreadable expression plastered on his face as he keyed in the code to your door, it emitted a soft hum before the lock became undone. You had invited Chrollo over the night before for a friendly dinner and he made sure to keep track of everything in your apartment, including the password to your door.

Chrollo entered without hesitation, carefully letting the door close with a light click before proceeding to take his slippers off and head straight to your bedroom. It was dim inside, the curtains were drawn and the only source of light were the ones that peeked through the small gaps of the curtain.

It had only been a few minutes since he left his own apartment but god did his cock fucking hurt, it was practically straining against his cotton pants, begging to be let out. He wasn’t usually this excited when it came to sex but he assumed it must’ve been his hormones going completely off the rails knowing that he was about to have you for the very first time.

Those nights where Chrollo furiously fisted himself at the mere thought of you were long gone because now, he could have the real thing. Was your cunt as tight and soft as Chrollo imagined it to be? There was only one way to find out.

He could almost whimper at the sight of your defenseless body—so vulnerable; so peaceful; so beautiful. You were on your side, legs tangled in the duvet, torso hugging a pillow, and ass on full display. Chrollo stood at the foot of your bed, onyx gaze shamelessly wandering up and down your body. He traced your soft lips with his eyes before slowly going down, down, down to your exposed legs.

Oh, you looked even cuter with those skimpy shorts on.

Chrollo wasted absolutely no time to hop on the bed with you and start grinding his clothed cock against the curve of your butt. The initial contact sent heated pleasure all over his body, driving him deeper into his lust-clouded state; he wasn’t even inside you yet but he could almost cry at the sweet sensation your body gave him.

Broken moans and breathy sighs in the shape of your name slipped past his velvety lips as he rutted his hips a little faster, one hand rested atop your hip to hold your limp body in place. He let out a breathy chuckle as he noticed your lower half subconsciously pressing back. What a dirty little slut you were.

Chrollo entertained your actions for a while by pressing himself further into you and grinding harder but soon enough, a little dry humping could no longer satiate the immense thirst his cock desired. With a sense of urgency—or rather, impatience, Chrollo stripped his and your lower halves naked, flinging off any article of clothing that could get in the way of his ministrations.

His cock stood proudly against his pale abdomen, raging scarlet and coated with a thin layer of pre-cum, he teased the tip along your slit which earned him a low mewl, he shuddered at the innocent sound. Chrollo wasn’t afraid of you waking up and catching him doing all this because he knew the drug he had slipped in your drink last night was potent enough.

He lifted your leg a bit to allow him some room before giving your nape a chaste kiss as he slowly entered your warm cunt. Chrollo let out a shameless moan against your ear as your cunt practically swallowed his tip, greedily sucking him in like the cock-hungry slut you were.

The tips of his fingers dug into your naked skin, breath turning shallow as he sank deeper and deeper into you, and as he bottomed out, he released a low moan of your name accompanied by his bare palm roaming all over your body,

“My love . . . you’re so perfect.”

Chrollo’s imagination was right, you were as tight and soft as he had imagined, and even more so. The way your wet, greedy cunt enveloped his hard cock was enough proof that you were solely made for him and even at the mere thought of other men being inside you left a bad taste in his mouth. They would only taint and bring shame to your sacred temple but not Chrollo, he’d worship you as though he was your devout follower.

Without wasting any more time, he slowly pulled his hips back—eyes almost rolling to the back of his head at the feel of your bare walls dragging against his shaft—before pushing in. Both your legs were closed which amplified the tightness of your cunt, albeit a little hard to move in, he couldn’t care less.

“Mhm . . . You like that, don’t you?”

Chrollo curled into your body, burying his face at the crook of your neck as he maintained a slow, deep pace; he wanted to relish the raw connection between your bodies; memorise the way your wet cunt quivered and responded with each thrust; how your subconscious mews sounded like absolute music to his ears.

Chrollo wondered if you dreamt of him, too.

Soon, his slow, sensual thrusts turned into erratic ones—pure desperation and lust were prominent with every sharp thrust of his hips. Your moans became louder too, interlacing not only with Chrollo’s low groans but also with the sound of skin slapping and lewd squelches. Everything that was once quiet grew in volume which filled your room with all kinds of sounds but Chrollo wasn’t ashamed one bit, instead, they fuelled his drive even further.

Your bed sang a rhythmic song, creaking with each shameless thrust of Chrollo’s hips, his heavy balls slapped into the skin of your ass which was sure to leave a burning sensation once you’ve come to. Chrollo tried his best, he really did, he tried his best to handle your unconscious body with the utmost gentleness but god, your sweet cunt felt way too amazing for him not to pound you into the sheets like a mere fucktoy.

Was he sorry? Not really but he’d make it up to you one way or another.

“F-Fuck, darling—ngh! I’m close . .” He panted into your neck as if you could hear him. As the knot deep in his core tightened with every pleasurable second, Chrollo roamed his hand beneath your shirt, roughly palming at your breasts and pinching your pebbled nipples. He couldn’t see your bare torso yet he could conclude by touch alone that you were perfect.

Chrollo peppered your neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses—careful to not leave any evident love bites—even the taste of your skin was heaven-sent.

Chrollo bit his lip hard enough to draw crimson, vision going white as he neared his impending orgasm, he gave a few more short thrusts before quickly pulling out to fist his cock furiously and shoot his load on to your exposed back.

He moaned your name as thick ribbons of his essence coated your back, they glistened beneath the morning rays that leaked into your room. Chrollo violently shuddered at the electric pleasure that engulfed his body; he laid there next to you, scarlet-faced and completely fucked out but nonetheless more than satiated.

Maybe next time, Chrollo would be able to see your lustful expression as he mercilessly fucked you into the mattress but for now, he could settle for your dainty moans.

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Come Have a Bite with the Vampire Bat!

Desmodus rotundus, better known as the common vampire bat, is a species of leaf-nosed bat native to Central and South America, as well as parts of the Caribbean. They are found primarily in tropical forests, particularly rainforests, but can also roam into scrubland and agricultural areas. Common vampire bats roost in hollow trees, caves, and abandoned buildings, making them a common sight in or near urban areas.

As their name implies, the common vampire bat feeds exclusively on blood, particularly those of mammals. In the wild they will feed on large animals like tapirs, but they more frequently go after domesticated animals like cattle, goats, and horses. However, when ideal prey is lacking they will also feed off lizards, turtles, snakes, toads, and crocodiles. Like most bats, D. rotundus uses echolocation to find prey. Then, special heat sensors in the nose help it to detect blood vessels close to the skin; it then bites open a small flap of the skin and drinks its fill. Its saliva contains both painkillers and anticoagulents, so victims seldom notice their host until after it has fed. Predators of D. rotundus include owls, hawks, and eagles.

Common vampire bats live in colonies of about 100 individuals, although colonies consisting of up to 1,000 individuals have been recorded. Within these colonies, males and females roost separately; females cluster in groups of 8-20, while males roost individually and guard territories against other males. However, D. rotundus is highly social, and males and females will both groom members of the same and opposite sex. This grooming can even extend to homosexual behaviours like genital licking, which is thought to reinforce hierarchies and strengthen social bonds.

D. rotundus can breed year-round, but females only raise one pup per year. Males typically mate with females in or near their defended territories. Afterwards, females carry their pregnancy for about 7 months before giving birth to a single pup. These young feed on their mother's milk for their first month; during this time, other adult females will often provide the mother with excess blood as she cannot hunt for herself. Once the pup is weaned they begin recieving blood from their mothers, and at four months they begin accompanying her on hunts. At about five months they are fully independent; females will remain in their mother's roost while males will leave to establish their own territories. Young become fully mature at about a year old, and adults may live to 12 years in the wild.

The common vampire bat is relatively plain looking, as far as bats go. They are generally gray or brown, with darker fur over their backs and dark brown or black membranes along their wings. The nose has a distinct triangle shape, which houses special heat-sensing organs. Likewise, the ears are large and triangular, used for echolocation. Adults are rather small, about 9 cm (3.5 in) long with an average wingspan of 18 cm (7 in) and a weight of 25–40 grams (2 oz).

Conservation status: The IUCN lists D. rotundus as Least Concern. In fact, populations of the common vampire bat are increasing due to the abundance of livestock as a food source.

If you like what I do, consider buying me a ko-fi!

Photos

Jose Gabriel Martinez Fonseca

Sheri & Brock Fenton

Nicolas Reusens

[zooliminology]

Some questions (sorry for so many lol):

can one turn on the faucet of golbo's bathtub? If so, what comes out? If not, is it compatible to be able to hook it up to a water source, or is its engineering non-compatible with our devices?

Does there appear to be any water or water 2 in the pseudoflora of the greenhouses? If there is water 2, this would help explain why one is incapacitated upon eating them (or any extraplanar pseudoflora).

We can see princes touching some liquid in the greenhouses, what is that? Is it water 2? Since water 2 can't be brought back to HQ, are princes OK with touching normal water?

Do princes take place in any other enrichment besides booping the water?

Do princes sleep?

What was that section in the training video where Tau got jumped by the glitter cloud ("Oh shit we gotta r-")? Where was that, what was that thing, how did the researchers escape or did it, like, teleport them?

Near the beginning of the training video, where it says that entities may randomly appear in our world only to disappear a few days later, what is the entity pictured?

Golbo's bathtub, if you are asking about the one that is used as its current enclosure, is a normal bathtub. However, if you are speaking of bathtubs in the Far Plane, whether or not they work is highly dependent on its locations. No bathtubs in the Greenhouses work. Bathtubs found outside that area dispense water 2.

Any water-like substance seen in the Greenhouses is water 2. The presence of water 2 in pseudoflora is part of the reason eating them is inadvisable.

See above. Princes do not seem to detect any difference between water and water 2 and thus H2O is used in their enclosure.

Princes will "patrol" the parameters of their enclosure along with digging in the dirt of potted plants. There is not a known reason for this action, but it is theorized that it is due to dirt being an uncommon sight in the Greenhouses. Whether moss or another ground covering would stop this behavior has not been tested.

Princes do not sleep. They do, however, periodically rest on the ground for relatively long periods of time.

The phenomenon known as the "Glitter Storm" is seen on rare occasions in certain parts of the Far Plane, particularly in areas with large amounts of pseudoflora. Think of the Far Plains and the Greenhouses. Aside from strong winds, it seems to not be harmful other than the large amount of glitter it despoits onto researchers. Strangely, this glitter does not stick onto any farplanar material- including entities.

That was Sigma's attempt at a Strider.

[cosmerelists]

Renarin Gets Advice About Being A Main Character

"Renarin gets help" list requested by anon. :)

[Stormlight Spoilers, including a WOB about Stormlight 6-10 in the Intro Paragraph!]

According to a WoB, Renarin won't be a main character until the back half of Stormlight (source). So, in preparation for his presumed ascension to Main Character Status (which I'm sure he knows about through his future sight), Renarin is going to get advice from the characters around him about how to be the best main character he can be.

...It made sense in my head, okay? Let's do this!

1. Shallan

Shallan: I think complexity is key. Renarin: In what sense? Shallan: You've got "weird guy" nailed down--really solidified that back when you were crouching in the corner saying ominous things during the onset of the Everstorm--but of course, you can't JUST be the weird guy. Shallan: You need, like, a tortured past and various schemes and a deeply faceted and nuanced characterization--just keep the readers guessing! Renarin: I don't know how you define "tortured," but my dad did kill my mom. And I am canonically the one piece that even the Diagram cannot account for. Shallan: Yes, yes. That's good stuff. Now you just need to put those tortured flashbacks and maverick energy on the page! Shallan: Honestly, I cannot wait to hear what's going on in that head of yours. Renarin: ...thank you?

2. Kaladin

Kaladin: Cool entrances. Cool one-liners. Kaladin: Remember when you followed me, Shallan, and Dalinar up like the entirety of Urithiru just so that you could step from the shadows at a dramatic moment and announce yourself as a Knight Radiant? Renarin: I, uh, do remember that, yes. Renarin: It was a really long walk. Renarin: I can't believe none of you spotted me that whole way. Kaladin: Readers don't need to know the details.

3. Dalinar

Dalinar: Your journey is your own. Dalinar: You don't have to be the strongest fighter or the most charismatic leader to be a main character. Dalinar: You can do it in your own way. Renarin: All right but I might want to do some of the fighting though. Renarin: You've seen me rush heedlessly into the fray multiple times now. Dalinar: I'm just saying you don't have to. Renarin: ... Renarin: Now I kind of want to do it more.

4. Eshonai

Eshonai: You might expect me to say "don't die." Eshonai: But I actually got a lot of character building post-death. Eshonai: ... Eshonai: I think it's still better not to die, though. Renarin: Yeah.

5. Lirin

Lirin: Do you care if fans like you? Renarin: [considering] Renarin: I would not say it's my highest priority, but I think I'd rather be liked if possible. Lirin: Sure, sure. Lirin: Then just don't be mean to Kaladin. Lirin: Trust me when I say that is the one thing you cannot do if you want to still have fans. Renarin: I'll...keep that in mind, I guess.

6. Jasnah

Jasnah: Being a main character simply involves having a lot of plot, yes? Jasnah: You are a Knight Radiant. Insert yourself into the most important matters of the day. Jasnah: Your accomplishments will drive the narrative, and then you will be the narrative. Renarin: You make it sound very...simple. Jasnah: But not easy. Jasnah: But that is all right--I know you can handle it.

7. Moash

Moash: Good main characters are a dime a dozen, frankly. Moash: Have you thought about going evil? Really makes a guy stand out from the crowd. Moash: You can even thin out the competition by killing other main characters. Moash: Ups your evil quotient and makes you even more of a main character. Moash: It's just math. Renarin: ... Renarn: Why did I ask you again?

8. Navani

Navani: Just don't let anyone stop you. Navani: Oh, people want to leave me off-screen in Kholinar? Too bad. I'm coming to the Shattered plains. Navani: Oh, one of the view point characters is trying to avoid me? Too bad. I'm dating him. Navani: Oh, I'm too human to be the second Bondsmith? Too bad--I'm all you got. Renarin: I'm not sure--that sounds awfully forceful. Navani: Let me put it in your terms. Navani: "Oh, people think my condition means I can't fight? I'm going to jump into a 4v1 duel while holding a sword that psychically damages me, just to help my brother." Renarin: ... Renarin: Thanks, Aunt Navani. Navani: Any time.

9. Adolin

Adolin: Advice about being a main character, huh? Adolin: Well! I know that readers like three things: romance, cool swords, and epic fights. Renarin: ...Aren't those things that YOU like? Adolin: Yes, exactly! Readers are just like me! Adolin: And that's why I know you'll be a good main chacter. Adolin: You got potential romance with another fan-favorite character and you have a living Shardblade (which is inherently cool). Just get a couple of on-page fights and you're good to go!

10. Wit

Wit: Readers just want originality. Renarin: All right. Renarin: Do you have any advice about how to achieve that? Wit: [puts a hand on Renarin's shoulder] Wit: Trust me, my friend: you can just do what comes naturally.

[honestsycrets]

brujería i: inhuman | ceo!miguel x succubus!reader

❛ pairing | ceo!miguel x succubus!reader

❛ type | doubleshot, explicit

❛ summary | since taking over his bio-father's company, miguel just can't seem to sleep. there may be someone behind that though. or, a succubus wants miguel.

❛ tags | some sacrilege, succubus!reader, ceo!miguel, sex-dreams, sleepy sex, dub!con: miguel is asleep during many encounters, exhibitionism outside of a church, f!reader, some mention of blood and wounds, au with deviations from canon, slight hurt miguel, slight caretaking peter, excessive bodily fluids, some mindgames.

❛ request fulfilled | Was wondering if i could request ceo!miguel x succubus! reader? whether he’s spider-man is completely up to you but reader is basically like a demon hiding in plain sight, toying and feeding on the sexual energy of people. maybe she’s a new hire and then she visits him in his dreams or smth. miguel becomes her target and he finds himself falling in love with her and wanting her so much it brings out an intense carnal desire inside him (1/2)

❛ sy's notes | i based some of miguel's sleep paralysis on my own experience. the catholic religious connotations are not very heavy, but if you're sensitive to that sort of thing, i'd probably skip this one.

Miguel O’Hara was never a superstitious man.

He grew up in a deeply Catholic home thick with superstition. His grandmother’s rosary still sat on his desk, enveloped in a spherical glass alongside stacks of organized paperwork on the latest drug his not-so-dearly held biological father left before he kicked it. Corruption was fiercely rooted, a fact that Miguel was not so subtle about. The papers he rifled through that morning revealed the stupidest account of Brujería among reports of Rapture.

“Brujería-- what bullshit,” he murmured as he dropped a stack of papers back onto the oak desk. He glanced at the glass tabletop and found his reflection therein. His eyes, crinkled at the edges, carried the reflection of countless days of his dark exhaustion. “Si no es una cosa es otra.”

“Miguel?”

“What, Lyla?” Miguel threw a glare at the ceiling at the AI that sang at him. She seemed far too happy with her position as the resident terror of his new office. New was an overstatement. It was his father’s before he croaked, reflected in some of his tacky taste in the things Miguel had immediately thrown out. Why else would it have a picturesque, but grandiose view of Nueva York but for a great view of the people he was destroying? The bright windows also did a bang-up job of burning his eyes

“The psychiatrist is here,” she chirped. “Are you going to tell her about your wet dreams?”

The flutters that danced over his skin at night at the strike of three. Foreign warmth caressed his skin like a warm blanket over his skin. His heart rate raced, and pleasure burrowed under his skin. It never failed that Miguel would wake to a rush of pleasure, cum painting his sheets sticky, his heart soaring into his throat. With such pleasure, why would he tell anyone but Lyla about his pathetic, ruined state that came night after night?

Miguel waved his hand in dismissal. He instead checked the chunky watch on his wrist. You're just on time. He appreciates a punctual professional given how much work he had to complete. In lieu of the report of spiritual abuse, he picks up the pile of sexual misconduct. That was a more pressing matter to address. The actual victims were far more important than some bruto’s complaint of ojos based on a huevo in some water. He should send these idiots to any middle schooler’s chemistry class. The bruja who was coming to visit him today could hardly be a source of concern.

“Why would I do that? Let her in. You listen in and I’ll unplug you.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Lyla teased, but he knew she was right. Lyla was one of his only friends and by far the one he spent the most time with. She has patience for him. He slips his reading glasses out of their holster as the lock on his office door hisses apart, welcoming in the strange woman whose name he could never find but in Stone’s personal records. A chroí, my love, like Stone could love anyone else but himself.

“Dr. O’Hara.”

Miguel slipped the lenses on. Not only was the woman before him, not the sort of hippy-dippy woman he expected, but you were… familiar. Oh, so familiar. He’s never met you before. Yet, he finds himself inexplicably pulled to closing the gap between your bodies.

You extend your hand for him to take.

“Dr…” You finished his sentence by offering your name.

“Have I met you before?” His large hand clasped your own. A blanket of warmth blossomed from your small hand in his grip. Gentle at first, your very same small hands laced in his. The sudden realization of where he’d seen you hit him like a bullet through the head: unexpected and instantaneous. The image rippled across his mind, Miguel’s hand collared on your nape, his fat dick splitting your cunt against his office’s wide windows. Another pulse of heat soared through his hand--

Miguel jerked his hand back. What in the hell?

“¿Estás bien?” You were so close that he could smell the perfume on your skin. A dark cherry, sultry, and so good. He was swimming in the vague delusion that was your skin against his. There was something delicious about the way you looked at him, tracing the outline of his tie that sat tightly behind a constricting vest. He was hazy, clumsily falling back into his office chair. Moving was tiring with the sudden vial of desire that flooded through his veins. You were at his side in an instant.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “It’s… the heat.”

“Oh! Stone's office is always hot. Here, I'll help you,” No-- he tried to argue. Against his wishes, you slipped his suit jacket off his shoulders and down his muscular arms, loitering a bit too long along his pumped biceps. “Though, I guess it’s all yours now, isn’t it? We all are.”

Miguel has no energy to fight you, lost in the haze that was last night’s forgotten dream. He’d never met you before, that much he was sure. Yet he swore, on all that was scientific and right, that he dreamed of your body on his, emptying him of any worries as he came into the nothingness of his sheets. It wasn’t just pleasure, it was a sea of rapture, and he drowned in it.

“According to your AI, you’re burning up lately.”

How do you know? You walked around his chair, your slender heels clicking over the hardwood floor. His eyes traced the curves of your velvet red pencil dress up to your bust as you leaned in, the back of your hand taking his temperature on his forehead. Your bust had delicate black lace detailing that enhanced your natural beauty. It scorched his ability to be a decent gentleman. Every man had their limits. He’s nearly at his, and you’ve only just arrived.

“You're so warm,” you gasped, but it's strained, a crack through stained glass. “Let me help you.”

You reached for the knot of his tie. That’s enough-- Miguel shoves your hand from his neck. He tugs the charcoal tie away from his throat, drawing it away from his white button-up. You wet your lips, drawing a sheen across your perfectly applied lipstick. You came in here with a plan and purpose to inflame him-- and did just that.

“Careful.”

A pause-- your eyes challenged him, seemed to know how weak he was in resisting the strain of lust that came with your mere presence. He was losing the fight quicker than he’d like. Miguel has to focus. “Your findings on Rapture’s… trial run. Where are they?”

“Destroyed,” you answered curtly.

"Project 2099?"

“Under seal. Oh, don’t look at me like that, hermoso. It wasn’t my choice.”

Hermoso. A flicker of anger shot through him as you reclined on his desk and ran your hands across the rim. You seem to notice the rosary on his desk, eyes lingering on it for more than a few seconds. You dipped so comfortably between propriety and looseness. The distance between your easily accessible skirt and his hardening erection is the entirety of only a few steps. “Stone’s orders, not mine.”

“There are no copies?”

“Why would there be? Stone was always very persistent with what he wanted.”

You? He doesn’t ask.

Something in him doesn’t want to think of it, what his father could have done to you that would make you so willing to stand so close to him. Your gaze faltered. You bore at his groin, his sleek dark slacks straining against his length.

“Now you want to know if I fucked him, que no?”

That's a yes. The way you slip onto his desk, legs slightly apart, tells him all he needs to know. His gaze falters, down then up again, an irrational amount of envy welling low in his belly. He found himself wondering what you’ve done in this very room. You bat your long lashes, far too pretty. He isn't easily dissuaded.

“I've barely met you and you want to know everything about my work and personal life. You’re so greedy. So like him.”

“I am nothing like that man.” At that very moment, his eyes locked with yours. A distant rage filled his belly. No one, he meant no one, compared him with that maniac. His tongue twisted in his mouth, ready to make some sharp remark, but you snatched his words by leaning forward, pressing your lips to his head. Your fingertips combed through his dark hair, a warm comfort. A kiss? His hands felt heavy, weighed down by an impossible weight, one he couldn’t push off no matter how much he strained.

"Hasta luego, Miguel.”

The door closes behind you with a clap. Back in the chair, Miguel was heaving heavy breaths. The restriction on his body loosened up and allowed Miguel to grab the black mirror stashed in a drawer below his desk. Your sticky lipstick left a stain on his forehead, strained with stress lines. He wiped away the red stain of your lipstick and rolled the remnants between his thumb and middle finger.

"Like Stone," he repeated with a hiss. "Mierda."

He wracked his hand around his swollen cock-- panting as he beat himself off, ecstasy claiming that he had to have you. The insatiable need to have -- his father’s whore-- overrode any of the papers on his desk. He came into the cold nothingness that is the air, his hands coated in his own essence. Miguel untucked a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped himself clean.

“Lyla? Who?” he gasped a breath, “Who is that woman?”

“Beats me,” Lyla thought she was so funny. “She’s not in any electronic records.”

“Really.”

Even if that was the case, Miguel would be damned if Stone got the better of him in death. Miguel cleaned up his hand and whirled open the sexual harassment folder-- he was nothing if not a determined man.

You shouldn’t be here. No, really, you should not be employed here.

He doesn’t know your qualifications because he cannot find them. In the electronic documents, your file is bare bones. The suggestion of your education is non-verifiable but signed off by Stone himself. If it were only him, he might chalk it up to corruption. But there were others-- other dead bodies-- who signed off on your highly amended report on Rapture. The board claimed your employment was not a subject for discussion. Even if he were the face of the company, you were untouchable.

He left his office to the small coffee shop on the third floor. The man who ran it, Peter, was a refreshment from the stress of the day in his own, weird little way. It was probably the high quantity of caffeine that kept him awake.

On the surface, Miguel’s dreams are unoffensive. Light things, like fingers brushing veins that creep along his muscles, soapy breasts dragging along his chest. Using your body like a sponge to clean him after a heavy session at the gym. You are always on your knees, suckling the cum free from his cock with an angelic little flutter of your lashes and those sultry, cat-like eyes. He was in a state of constant arousal with nothing to show for it but a consistently swollen dick. At his age, he considers it a feat.

“You’re so sexy, Peter.”

There it was again. Your giggle over top of the sound of the hiss of a coffee machine. Peter was laughing, shy, or uncomfortable, he couldn’t quite tell. Miguel slips off his wire sunglasses, looking along the bar for the source.

“Hey, Miguel!”

He paced around the corner, then back. There are a few work couples and colleagues speaking with one another. Their tables are fresh with coffee and tea, tiny wrapped sandwiches a poor lunch. You’re conspicuously absent. The lack of sleep was fucking with his head, it had to be. He settled the glasses into the lining of his suit pocket and withdrew his wallet.

“Miguel! You'll never guess who came by. Uh, the usual?” Peter bounced over, leaning over the cash register with a glitter in his eye. He was more upbeat than even usual. Some girl must have made his day, he decided. Sí, he rumbled. Miguel dipped his fingers into his wallet to pull out his card only to be stopped short of the action.

“Nope,” Peter pushed Miguel’s hand away. “Someone paid for you.”

“For me?” Miguel settled the card in its proper slot. “Who?”

“You know,” Peter whispers. "The bruja."

“She was here?” he repeated, following Peter across the side of the bar as he began to make his coffee. Peter is an airhead, a wonderful airhead. Some part of him is infectious on days when he’s not being stalked by a woman with no traceable name. It was as if you were wiped clean. “When?”

“About two hours ago? She said you looked spooked and left me some money for your coffee. I think she likes you.”

You were doing more than liking him.

“And why would you think that?” Miguel pulled out a chair at the bar, humoring the scrawnier man. Peter frothed some milk, a fluffy cloud of relaxation on top of his usual coffee dusted with cinnamon and nutmeg. Miguel takes the mug from Peter, wrinkling his nose at the addition of nutmeg.

“Well, she turned down some dude from marketing,” Peter mentions. “I've been here for a while and-- she rarely turns anyone down.”

You rarely turn anyone down?

It bothered him long after he finished the coffee. You’re so sexy, Peter. You weren’t there. Peter told him that you’d been gone for two hours. He should not have heard the wisps of your caramelized voice in the coffee shop.

It’s the exhaustion, Miguel convinced himself. He just needs the weekend, to rest.

By Saturday night, he hit his last nerve.

Restful sleep would not come. He lay in his large, empty king-sized bed after searching through files for another project that had no other name but 2099 for the entirety of ten long hours. Any information-- redacted-- but your name slapped over the top and bottom of countless documents was like a great, big fuck-you O'Hara. The more he read about you, the angrier he became. You enraged him, but he was positively enthralled with your presence.

He lay in bed listening to should-be soothing jazz that now grated his ear. Night after night, his torment never failed. When he finally found an instance of peace, his muscles locked up. Not quite awake, but not quite asleep. Heavy pressure overtook his chest and arms forced him to remain still. The world fazed in and out, doom on beating alarm bells in the back of his mind. Then he felt it, the phantom pressure on his neck that slid over his tawny skin, from his belly to the dark happy trail that dipped below his silky pants.

Miguel gritted his teeth and ripped himself from his trance. When his eyes popped apart, he was greeted by his shock. Hunger flowed through him in warm waves, piercing underneath his skin. Miguel’s fingers twinged, your phantom figure on top of him. It looked like you, but misty, as though an illusion. In the darkness, he can only make out the shadows that bounce off what little light is in the room.

“Motherfucker--”

Though he said that, your teasing fingers freed him from his cozy pants, ripping them around his hirsute thighs. His length lulls against his body, a shameful drool of cum gathered at his cock. A night of phantom touches has done him in. Miguel lurched back onto his flat pillows when he was abruptly shoved down by an outrageous amount of force. With his arms thrown up by his head-- he whimpered, frustrated with tonight's-- dream, delusion, dare he say-- reality. His joints were locked by invincible chains that forced him to stay in place. The more he fought, the hotter his need became for what came next. His body was pitifully trained.

He wasn’t certain that it was you-- but it smelled so deeply of your perfume, rich and cherry, flooding his nostrils. So familiar. He glanced down at the opaque figure, grinding over his hard cock. A pair of hands crashed onto his shoulder, claws curling into his broad shoulders. Blood seeped forth. A growl gathered in his chest, ripping up when something warm and tight sunk down on his bobbing dick. Miguel gritted his teeth: it had been a long time since he’d been with anyone. Not for a lack of viable partners, but his annoyance with them all.

Despite his immense muscle, he was too weak to do anything about it. Even if he could, what would he do? Throw off the sex-crazed hallucination on his dick? You rolled your hips over him, suckling him right back up. Hypnotized by the smoky illusion, Miguel gazed on begrudgingly, grunting as you rolled over him, his dick straining your insides. He was a toy, nothing more and nothing less, used for his fat cock that split your airy body apart. His hips jerked, frustrated as he found he could go no deeper. You punished him by dragging your claws over his swarthy shoulders, over his collarbones. Blood ripped free, sliding down his deltoids.

“Chingado,” Miguel’s lips parted for the word, hips juddering up like a hungry slut. It wasn’t normal, the warm tickle of your lubricant over his shaft, exquisite in its nature. His heels dug into the bed, balls tightened. He was so damn close to his relief, he could taste it on his tongue, bordering somewhere between immense pleasure and decadent pain. Your need for his pain won out, dipping down over his chest and latching your fangs over his chest-- then up, hooking on the front of his throat. It was going to bruise, badly.

You shook loose his orgasm, ripped free with the need to fill you, own you-- as though he were not the one being owned. His hips staggered, sticky whips of cum coating your walls in waves. More than he’d cum before before. His eyes shut hard, tears pricking the sides of his eyes. Then, as if it never happened, the hold on his hands was released. He struggled with his freedom, his hands slack, softening cock worthlessly weeping over his thigh. The pain-- oh, the pain, it washed over him moments later.

“Woah,” Lyla interrupted, “Miguel! What happened?”

She couldn’t see you. His eyes were like two dark coins, staring up at the ceiling, wide, and unseeing. He can hear her frantic questions, the ligature marks left behind from invincible chains, and the all-too-real blood and bruising that left him utterly ruined.

“It,” he choked out, heat biting at his well-chiseled face. “It hurts.”

He doesn’t remember what comes next. It was five in the morning when he finally rolled out of bed, and onto the floor, gripping the growing headache that grew miserably behind his head. Bitterness bubbled in his stomach, exhaustion in his eyes. The aberration that was his poor sleep was irksome more than anything. He felt someone’s eyes on him, soft and worried, rushing to his aid as though he were an old man who fell off a bed.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Peter said with an undercurrent of concern soaring through his words. “No, wait. I got you.”

He helped him sit against the frame of his bed, a frame that looks small as shit with Miguel’s large body against the frame. He’s unsure of what to say, assuming that Lyla called him in desperation, and let him into the house that Peter most definitely did not have a key to. Miguel’s chest ached. “What happened? Are you… are you okay?”

Everyone seems to ask him that lately.

“I’m fine,” he was alien to the feeling of care. He knew when Miguel dug himself into a hole. Miguel didn’t want to think about what happened only a few hours prior when his exhaustion took over his body and knocked him out. He dreamed of nothing. An abyss of unsettled nothingness, the ache low in his belly to fuck you until you were soaked in his cum and Miguel could finally, finally rest his tired eyes. Miguel pulled on a fluffy white robe Peter supplied, dragging it over thick strips of gauze and medical tape.

“You don't look fine.”

They both know he’s lying, but what else could be said? That the state Peter saved Miguel from was a rarity? That he’s used to being preyed upon by his own delusions? He needs a fuck, maybe that’s it.

“If you’re going to stay, be useful and get me that file.”

“Oh-- okay, this one?” he doesn’t look surprised. He padded across his room to his desk, kicked a chair that was falling apart aside, and picked up the folder on Brujería. It was buried behind more useful folders such as sexual harassment and inter-employee workplace violence. A fact that Miguel wasn’t exactly proud about in the first place.

“Brujería? Like witch stuff, right? No way. You think work is haunted too?” Peter says with a choked-out, nearly forced laugh. Miguel doesn’t pay himself enough for this. Of all the files at hand, it was nearly untouched. It included such things as ancestors, spirits, demons, and curses.

“I don’t. But the workers obviously do.”

Peter was soft and kind, but not stupid. He plopped down next to him and crossed his legs one over the other.

“The ones that say she’s a bruja?” Peter tapped on your photo. Your photo offers emptiness. That though you have a bright smile in the photo, it is undoubtedly fake. He never saw a woman look so innocent and sweet, but dangerous.

“You’ve heard?”

“Well, the men she hangs around always end up dead. They get all successful and rich then, bam, dead. But you can’t believe that right?” Peter reasons. “She’s not cursed, she just has bad luck. She’s always been nice to me.”

“A curse?”

“Yeah,” his warm breath wavers into a sigh. “Stone wanted company, found her in Sacred Heart-- you know, the one they say is cursed?”

“A cursed church? Give me a break. The only curse at Sacred Heart are the exploitive priests.”

“I’m just saying what I heard,” he’s whispering, shivers wracking up his arms at the mere mention. He tries not to push him anymore. Peter stood up and walked to the coffee stand in the corner of his dark room. For the days that he couldn’t be bothered to leave his room, he’d make a hot coffee in the corner and keep working just as he always did. “She’s always been nice to me.”

“Maybe you’re not her taste.”

“Yeah well, probably not. I don't look like you-- but she did call me sexy, so that's something right?” Peter laughed, “Want a cup of coffee?”

Sexy. That's it, he's so fucking sick of this shit.

“No, I don’t want a cup of fucking coffee,” Miguel bit back, shoving the bed several inches as he pushed his hand off of it, storming into his walk-in closet. “Lyla. When is mass at Sacred Heart?”

“Sacred Heart?” Lyla laughed. “You’re kidding--”

“Lyla,” he snarled, chucking his bag across the closet. It connected with his tall, black safe with a loud boom. She was quiet for a moment, undoubtedly momentary confusion for why non-believer Miguel O’Hara wanted to go to, of all things, a Catholic mass.

“6:30,” she answers.

“I’ll go with you,” Peter calls out.

Don’t bother, Miguel returns from the next room.

It’s been a long time since he dressed for mass-- some dark brown slacks and a warm, vanilla button-up. He snaps a chain necklace around his thick, bruised throat and his favorite watch. As he grabbed the manilla folder on brujería he felt like a child, lectured by his grandmother to not be like his bad man-loving, alcoholic mother and go to church. Despite very much not believing in any of this shit, it was frustrating, annoying even, that he had to go back there.

He didn’t want to go but his spirit was unsettled. Something told him that going to his grandmother’s favorite church would give him a sense of illumination, that it would make sense of the things that made no sense.

Sacred Heart stands on a hill, both physically and metaphorically. It takes offerings off the backs of the poor and sits atop a lush hill. Its stained-grey architecture is only beautiful by virtue of its stained-glass murals. He doesn’t care for the saints that loom overhead, unseeing eyes judgemental and cold. Viejitos and the truly devout are the only ones in attendance. Based on Peter’s account, he should expect you there. It doesn't take long to be proven right.

“Bendición.”

Is he hallucinating again? Despite the many rows of unspoken burgundy benches, you sit by him. Miguel is disconcerted as you slide your thick hips by, sandwiching him between the side of the bench and your chunky, beautiful thighs. He worked his words in his mouth for entirely too long.

“Dios te bendiga,” he said, the words chalky and thick in his throat, drawn up from the bottomless abyss of his fluttery stomach. You sat with a black lace veil pinned to your head. The only sort of women who wear a veil are very old or not Catholic at all. He veers on the latter. “You’re Catholic?”

“If you want me to be.”

“Why else would you be here?” he reached over and plucked up a cheap bible from a pouch behind the bench before him. Your eyes follow pupils dilating in a way that isn’t human at all, staring at the many words on the page that spun under his thumb.

“I think you know why,” you said with soft and pliable words. He felt himself melting.

Of course, Miguel thought, you always seem to show up during the most inopportune times.

"You didn't bring a bible," he offers it to you. Your eyes, dilate wide and bright at the sight of the thing, flicker a look down to it, then Miguel again.

"I prefer to listen." You turn away from it. He flipped it in his hand before returning it to its rightful pouch. For some reason, you did not want to be close to the book. He thinks he knows why.

“So you are stalking me.”

"Stalking is such a mean word, Miggy. Haunting, I like haunting better." Miguel throws open the report. He doesn’t want to read it-- but it is the last folder that may hold the information he needs. Your eyes fluttered to the footsteps of others filling their spot, an archaic song on the lips of the practitioners. Wrong page, Miguel.

"What was that?" he asked you.

"Nada."

He looked down to his lap where the report sat. The voices of those present, their lips forming an off-tuned song, itched at his already exhausted mind. The more he fought, the worse it became. You flipped open a black fan and cooled yourself with long flicks of your wrist. He doesn’t think it’s so hot.

“The rosary on your desk is from here, isn’t it?”

How would you know?

“You’re hiding something.”

Page 76. His fingers thumb on the pages on their own accord. Your eyes traced the movement, looking down at the pages before him. On deaths of company men.

I just do.

The thought entered his mind without prompting. He scanned names on the page. Aaron Delgado… asphyxiation. Tyler Stone… myocardial infarction. There were photos pinned there, photos that shouldn’t be so graphic, but somehow are. The men are as naked as the day they came into the world.

“If you say so, Miggy.”

“What are you hiding?”

You brought your hand over the file, closing it shut on top of his hand. He turns his hands over the top. Your fingers run over his knuckles, in misleading circles. “Are you sure you want the truth?”

“I don’t hide from the truth.”

“The truth,” you leaned in, your words husky against his ear. “The truth is I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m a good girl, Miggy. You have to believe me.”

Something about the way you spoke enraged him, prickling him enough to force him to stand in the middle of the priest’s words. He snatched your wrist with his thick hand, gripping you enough to leave pepper bruises across your skin. Your heels clicked after his boots, out through the foyer, past the bath of holy water, and down the discolored steps.

“Miguel?” you sang like a siren.

He’s hit his limit, throwing you against the discolored church wall. A gasp punched out of your lungs, aggravated by Miguel’s large hand strangling the breath from your throat. He felt warm as he kicked your legs apart and took up that space. The heat doesn’t feel like it is his. His bulge against your skirt certainly is. Now, he seems to expect pleasure when he is in your presence.

“You want me to fuck you, sí? That’s why you’re tormenting me every fucking night.”

“I thought you liked cumming,” you relinquished with a harsh giggle. It grates his last nerve. “You finally look relaxed when you do.”

“Qué mala eres,” Miguel snatched the bottom of your skirt, ripping it up the slit to expose your warm skin. He found no panties there, just smooth skin. He cupped your sex for emphasis. “No panties in church. You're filthy.”

“¿Y qué? You’re proving why I didn’t need them.”

He stared, lingering for a moment, challenging your insistence on control. Since he took over this god-forbidden company, you had been defying him with your devilish smile. Miguel slapped your cunt, eliciting a groan that was half of the pain that he’d had only a few hours ago. You liked it, scratching lines up his arms to his broad shoulders.

“You’re so big,” you balanced his abuse with your overwhelming worship. “So big and pretty.”

“Shut up,” he bit out and slipped his middle finger inside of you, unconcerned for your pleasure. Your muscles tightened around his finger, drawing him deeper. He slides another beside it, his hand leaving your cunt to slap your jaw, forcing you to keep focus. Your tender flesh is hot and red, a wonderful tenderness radiating throughout your jaw.

“And you're dripping, do you have no shame?” He grips your chin to look at your face. Raw defiance was slapped across your face. You rolled your hips onto his hand, forcing him to caress your walls in the right spot. He perked his brow, listening to the priest lecturing in the background. Your sweetness drooled over his curled wrist, dripping from his squelching fingers.

“For you,” you whined. “I want your dick. Give it--”

“You’re a brat.”

He said that-- but he was amused. Miguel slipped down onto his knees, knocking your legs rudely apart. His mouth encircled your puffy clit, bringing it into his mouth and suckling it fat. His rhythm was quick, making a point that he could make you cum too. You weren’t debating him, your hands tight in his hair, loud little moans beating free from your lips. His tongue was warm and soft, kissing and nipping.

The priest went quiet.

“You’re being too loud. Do you want them to hear us?” Miguel’s brow furrowed, slipping up from your vulva.

"Why is that my problem?" You whined in distaste after he stopped pleasuring you, your pulsing cunt beating like an open wound. Asshole.

"You could care for someone other than yourself." Miguel tilted his head, turning you to face the wall. He pulled himself free of his pants-- his thick cock fat against the curve of your ass. That’s what you wanted, he decided, gauging by your whine that came with his action.

"How does that get me what I want?" You shook your ass at him, waiting for him to rear back.

“This is what you wanted, hm? Fine, have it. Just shut up."

He leaned over you, your scratchy black veil catching along his stubble. He doesn’t wait for a response, pushing inside. He wasn’t just thick, he was long. But he knew you already knew that-- you knew every curve of his body, loved the thick veins on his cock that filled you so well. You scratched at the wall as he crushed you into the wall, his hips stuttering with your walls tightening him, drawing him further, impossibly deep.

Estúpida, he thought-- and knew you’d hear it. Whatever you were, you weren’t human. You were somewhere between a human and desire itself, evident in the way you looked at him, pleasured by his rutting hips against the church. The priest went back to his lecture-- the churchgoers enraptured in their worship. The only thing Miguel was enraptured with was the way your pussy tingled, the fluid soaking his cock, and the stretch in your lower belly. His hand clasped over your mouth, index finger poking into your mouth. Your tongue drew him in, fangs nipping his finger.

It earned you a hard slam, stuffing you full, your strange body catching his thrusts beautifully. He slipped his hand over your soft cunt, working your clit for your orgasm, though you deserved no such thing. Habit, he supposed. Gloria a Dios-- the churchgoers clammed with one another. Nearly out of time, your pleasure won out, gushing over his fat cock. Miguel suckled a breath, his ego demanding him to hold out, batter your sweet cunt through your orgasm.

“I’m hungry-- Give it to me,” you bit on his finger, breaking the skin and urging blood to flow into his mouth. Your body twitched violently around his cock, drawing bright pleasure forth. “Give me your cum.”

"Stay out of my dreams."

"I don't want to," you reared your head back at him, your nose tight with wrinkles. He drew you fully onto his dick, the final thrusts were sloppy and immature-- but he held out, making you angrier by the second.

"I'll cum on the floor right here, I don't give a shit."

"No, no! Fine! I promise-- I'll let you sleep," the threat of going hungry is enough that you concede, punching your fist against the wall. He grunts in response and feeds your body with whips of cum that felt far heavier than his usual. A pleasure, far sweeter than any orgasm he could give you. Miguel soaked your sweet little body with his sticky cum, chest swelling heavily against your little back. He finishes and pulls himself free. To his surprise, your cunt doesn’t leak. Miguel staggers back with a perk in his eyebrow.

You look far better for wear than he does, clumsily zipping himself back into cum stained slacks, running his hand through his sweat-soaked hair. You recline on the wall, inspecting him. He knows how he looks. He's bruised, long gashes down his chest, and properly fucked-- a mess. The manila envelope sits forgotten by your heels, your skirt-- perfect, as though he never tore it in the first place.

“You’re not human.”

Miguel bends down, picking up the folder. Not like he needs it anymore. He does, however, need that information on Project 2099. I can help you, he hears. He catches your wide, toothy smile. You've grown fangs. He isn’t surprised.

“Not even a little.”

[lilly-onthevalley]

Earrings & Jewellery

I'm incredibly privileged to have grown up with a grandmother who loved high-quality ear piercings. When I was a child, I would always gawk at her diamond collection and her deep emerald studs, which she would keep safe and secure. Prized gifts from past lovers.

One of my favourite things is my jewellery. I would go broke for a good real black pearl. I would fly back to Bridge of Allen to meet the family jeweller who crafted my silver and pink-purple fresh water pearl bracelet. I would run to Poland to find another Torah necklace to remind me of the dear old lady who I would source my vintage jewellery from and my pleasurable years of studying Judaism.

Whenever I walk around, my stack is always a conversation starter because of how it stands out, all rings, earrings, and bracelets. I wear on average 3-5 rings and 4 bracelets, all silver, some with diamond or zirconia. I wear the silver cartier wedding band I got as a gift every day, depending on where I'm going, lol. I also have a signature symbol, which I'll gate keep.

I implore everyone to have a signature charm. It could be a shell design, a flower, a sea horse, a star, anything that feels lucky to you or blessed. Whenever anyone sees the symbol, they will automatically think of you, and whenever you'll see it, you'll remind yourself of the luck and personal significance it has to you. My middle finger ring has my symbol, and so does my everyday necklace. I'm about to get studs with the same.

When you get jewellery, I always recommend finding someone with a passion for it. I don't see the point in going to a mass market jewellery store that will sell you fake jewellery that tarnishes the second summer hits or if you swim. Invest in the metals. 90% of my jewellery is from random old men with a long-time passion for craftsmanship. It's not always pricey. You will not be charged $100+ for starter hoops or a plain stud. Take the leap, and you'll never have to do it again. Furthermore, with these types of jewellers, if you ever need maintenance such as shining, anodising, oxidation, cleaning, repairs, etc, they have your back. The secret to shiny white icy silver and white gold is in the shining, it's necessary. Google is your friend, if you start now you'll be sorted till 60!

Having multiple piercings is thought by the tiktok wealth gurus to not be classy, and quite frankly, I disagree. There's an art to creating a good piercing stack, which adds to your allure.

As a woman of colour from a country with a very proud history of adornment and multiple local high jewellers who's hearts ache to capture Africa into a singular mental piece, I cannot subscribe to that narrative in good faith.

Currently, I have 2 piercings on each ear, which will increase to 5 on 1 and 4 on the other. I have scheduled my piercing dates and contacted all my jewellers to let them know what's up and that I want to come in to see what they have going on for the new season. I'm terribly excited.

When it comes to a good stack, you can never go wrong with diamonds, zirconia, or diamanté. Play with different cuts. Marquise cuts are trending right now in the piercing and engagement ring communities. Furthermore, pearls are something that never goes out of style. I love a good real pearl because of lustre. A fresh pearl will have multiple colours at times, which are enhanced based on the angle of the light around you. Similar to diamonds or clean zirconia and diamanté. Diamonds and stones like it are cut with different facets to play with the brilliance. A certain cut can cause a fire, not in the literal sense but the effect whereby multiple colours are seemily present within the stone because of the refraction of light. This is especially important with engagement rings.

When it comes to individual earrings, I would recommend these types.

Very dainty, very light, very sweet. A stack of these is a sight to behold. Especially on dark skin. I absolutely love how Anok Yai and Adut Akech style their piercings.

A good account on Instagram to get inspiration on what a good classy stack looks like is Maria Tash. I'm utterly obsessed.

When it comes to pearls, here is a colour guide. I believe in jewellery shopping from different countries. My favourite places to get my hands on some pearls are the coasts of Scotland and the UK online markets. You will find the cheapest, pinkest, fresh water pearl jewellery. My friend loves a deep dark pearl and stalks Asian jewellers to find some to add to her collection. I admire her tenacity. They aren't as easy or cheap to find as pink and purple pearls.

🪽

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Second lot of requests for @thevinylshop ,hope these work!! Enjoy! (Original request image under our banner

[allmyocsarebritish]

Please write more for ahkmenrah I beg 🙏🙏

Okay Anon, here's part 2 of ahkaeology :)

Ahkaeology part two

Pairing: ahkmenrah X reader

Warnings(?): more grave robbing, Carnarvon being Carnarvon, not much ahk but he will be featured a lot more later :)

A/N: sorry for the long wait!!! So many people have asked for this so I hope it finds you if you did! Truth is my NATM hyperfixation died out after a month lol, but I hope this is still what y'all were looking for!

It felt as though not a minute had passed before you were awoken with the sounds of shouting. Carter's voice echoed through the chamber as he called your name. Despair began to seep into his tone; surely he could not have lost you?

Behind him trailed Carnarvon, looking utterly bored with the whole situation. His half lidded eyes cast over the sandy dunes, a slight frown appearing at the sight of what appeared to be a large ditch.

"I say, Carter? Do you see that?" The lord asked, pointing to the gap in the plains. He visibly perked up, eyes glistening like a child at Christmas.

"Do you think it could be some kind of hidden burial site?"

Carter frowned at his business partner, frustration bubbling over.

"Lord Carnarvon! I do not understand how on Earth you could manage to think only of finding riches at a time like this!" He snapped. "Y/N is missing, and she has been for quite some time so I suggest we focus on the matter at hand."

Hearing the commotion caused by the two men, Ahk began to shake you from your daze. They seemed to be calling your name, and he'd hate to think they moved on without you.

Greeted with the sight of your new friend, the events of the previous night came rushing back to you.

"Oh, is it morning already? Not to cause offence, but, how are you still alive?. I mean, I thought-"

"It's quite alright, but to answer your question, no it isn't morning yet. My apologies but I believe I heard some shouting outside, and it sounded like they were saying-"

"Y/N!" Ahkmenrah was cut off by the sound of Carter's yell, reminding you that you were, in fact, still lost.

"I'm down here!" You attempted to shout, voice muffled by the distance. Still, it was enough to catch the attention of Howard, and he raced over to the source of your call.

Straining his eyes to see inside the dark, dingy grave, Carter dropped to his knees to get a better view.

"Mopsy? Is that you? Are you really down there?"

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, as Ahk stiffled a giggle.

"Yes, I am!" You responded, eyes trained on the ancient pharoah before you.

"Is there anything down there?" Your blood ran cold as his words sank in.

What would they do when they discovered you had been hanging around with a reanimated mummy all night? Even you weren't entirely sure that ahk wasn't a hallucination, induced by that nasty concussion.

You trusted Howard, he was kind to you and your family; he always had been, even since your early childhood. As shown in your rapid warming to the Pharoah, you were unsuspicious, wearing your heart in your sleeve for much of the time. However, you weren't naïve, and knew Carnarvon was someone to be wary of.

You had no doubt that the conniving man would whisk away all of Ahk's belongings without a second thought, guiltless despite the undoubtedly devastating effects that would have on the pharoah. The magical tablet would be a pot of gold, only viewed as financial gain, and you would never see your strange little king again.

Hesitation only delayed the inevitable, however, and you did need to respond to Howard.

"Uh, yes there are a few, uh, things down here."

"Whatever do you mean, young one? Hold on, I'll send a rope." A symphony of shuffling followed, which you were quick to put an immediate stop to.

"Wait! I think it's best if you join me down here, sir." You winced hearing the sentence out loud, knowing how ridiculous it sounded.

"Whyever would I do that, young one, what has gotten into you?" He asked, apprehension understandable given the situation.

"I'm sorry, Carter, sir, but there really is no other way I can explain this to you."

You heard his reluctant sigh, yet after a short bout of cursing, Carter made his way into the grave.

Shock and horror etched their way onto his face as he took in Ahkmenrah. His terror only grew at the sight af all the other creatures in the tomb, who had now directed their justified concern for their master against Carter.

"My word!" He exclaimed, awe echoing through the cave, and up into the outside world. Hearing the confused, raised voices, Carnarvon dipped his head into the inky blackness of the open grave, voice calling out to the two of you stranded inside.

"Carter, my good fellow? Did you find any gold?" You rolled your eyes at the expedition leader's muffled voice.

"Much greater feats than a stash of gold, lord Carnarvon."

In hindsight, Howard should have been more specific as to what these feats were, knowing how greed could easily cloud Carnarvon's judgement. But, if hindsight is 20/20, current insight would have a prescription of around -2.00, considering not even a moment later Carnarvon had scaled down into the tomb, leaving no-one but the camels on the upside.

"Are you a blasted imbecile?" You couldn't help but chide the man the moment his feet hit the ground. "Now where's our everloving chances of getting out of here?!"

"You wish to leave me so soon?" Ahk asked, disappointment evident on his face.

"Sorry? Oh, no I don't wish to leave you, but I certainly can't stay here forever."

"My apologies. I suppose I just thought- well, naturally, it's not as though I see many people down here. As a matter of fact, this is the first encounter I have had, since my death."

"Oh, no no no." Carnarvon was quick to interject as guilt and sympathy washed over you like a bucket of ice water.

"We most definitely won't be leaving you." Carnarvon swung an arm around Ahk's shoulder.

"What?" You questioned, earning yourself a sharp glare from the self appointed group leader.

"No, of course not my boy! You're much too valuable to be left to rot down here. You're coming with us!"

You frowned, eyes flicking over to Howard, whose face betrayed his discomfort at uprooting the pharoah from his peaceful, if lonely, afterlife.

"Carter, my good man?" Carnarvon called to his partner, who responded with reluctance.

"Yes, sir?"

"Send a letter home. Tell them to pack as many airfreight crates as possible. We have a lot of cargo to transport home."

[buggywiththefolkmagic]

Only YOU Can Prevent Witchy Fires

Hello witches, workers, and all in between! Your friendly neighborhood Granny is here to teach you a few things about fire safety!

Yes, yes, I know. “But Buggy, this is tumblr! And you're on a boring witchcraft blog! What do we need a lesson on fire safety for? We aren’t in kindergarten!” But trust me! More than one witch has accidentally singed their hair or set their own altar on fire before! Sometimes we get so into the spiritual that we forget to be mindful of the reality around us.

I’m going to go over a bundle of good tips to keep in mind for making a wax seal over that spell jar or burning a few bay leaves or ingredients to release that nonsense into the air! Even a section for the kitchen witches!

Indoor Safety:

*Those annoying fire alarms? Make sure they are operational okay? Change those batteries at least once a year, preferably twice. (If it is something you are in control of.)

*Always use a fire-safe candle holder for candles! Trim down that wick before lighting! I know it seems silly to use a pair of scissors or a wick trimmer, but trimming down that wick will always make that flame much easier to manage. And that flame? If it gets big enough to cause black smoke ALWAYS put it out.

*Always keep the candle in your line of sight, no meditation with an open flame going okay? Also if your candle is big enough to burn for more than four hours...put it out at the 4 hour mark.

*The longer a candle burns the more carbon gathers on the wick itself and that can make the flame get bigger and more unstable. Those ultra-wobbly flames that flicker and waves like one of those wacky inflatable arm flailing tube men? That is something you don’t want.

*Putting out a candle: We don’t recommend putting it out with your fingers no matter how cool it looks. Use a candle snuffer, or blow it out. I promise blowing out a deity candle won’t insult them!

*Another crucial tip is to keep anything that could catch fire a minimum of three feet or 91 centimeters AWAY from the fire source. That includes carpeted flooring, cloth, hair, rugs, altar cloths, papers, books, all sorts of things! Always wear your hair back when working with fire, and wear close fitting clothing that won’t hang or drape into the fire with your movements.

*Another tip given straight from the NSC is to NEVER use candles or other fire sources while tired or inebriated! That means no 2 am spell jars if you are half asleep! ALSO never EVER leave a candle WARM or actively BURNING! Same goes for any items you are burning down like bay leaves. Burn them in a fire safe bowl that is much bigger than you think you need. Toss the debris around and soak in water to ensure they are safely doused.

*IF you are using wax to seal off spell jars I highly suggest getting a wax sealing kit! Wax sealing kits come with a little spoon that you drop bits of wax into and ‘melt’ them down over something like a tea candle. An example is this: Which you can find on Amazon for roughly $10 USD!

The spoon is perfect for pouring and there’s less likelihood of the candle you would sit on top of the jar from falling off because...there is no candle! If you only have a candle to work with...please don’t burn the candle on top of the object you are sealing, put the candle in a safe holder and hold it over the object once warm to let the wax drip down. Have the object you are sealing sitting on top of a safe ceramic plate or bowl in case of drippage!

But what do I do if a fire starts?

Good question! That depends on the type of fire it is! Here’s a breakdown of the types and methods to put them out: Ordinary Fire: An ordinary fire is caused by candles, papers, cloth, plastics, that sort of thing!

The good news is these types of fires respond amazingly well to plain old water! It’s always advised that you keep a bucket or pitcher full of water within reach whenever using candles just in case!

Electric Fire: Electric fires are caused by a source of electricity, like wires getting crossed and arching.

NEVER use water on an electrical fire! If you do, you'll just electrocute yourself. If it’s safe to do so...unplug the object from the outlet. Turn off the electricity in your house’s electric breaker box. Smother the flames by pouring baking soda onto them.

Chemical Fire: Chemical fires have a chemical as a fuel source, like rubbing alcohol, nail polish & polish remover. Even your nails near a candle can produce a small chemical fire if you aren’t careful! (Dry those nails up good before using candles.) These fires can only be put out with a fire blanket OR pouring a LARGE quantity of baking soda or sand onto the fire.

Cooking Fires: Cooking fires are the most common form of household fire. It can be caused by grease, burning food, or burning cooking oil. Water will NOT work on any fire oil or grease based, it may seem like a first instinct to grab the pan and toss it into a sink with water...DON’T.

That will cause the oil to splatter and can injure you and make any flames spread further! It the fire is small enough and contained within a pot or skillet, have a lid or baking sheet handy and throw that onto the top of the fire, this will smother it out. A fire blanket can also be used for this. Do NOT swat at the flames, this is just a fanning motion and will give the fire more oxygen to grow with! Pour a large amount of salt or baking soda on top of the fire. MAKE SURE it is not flour, as flour will cause the fire to grow quick enough to even explode! Turn off any heat source.

And if the fire is in the oven or microwave? Leave that door CLOSED. It seems super scary but the fire will smother itself out when trapped in a small box. (Of which both cooking items are.)

Outdoor Safety:

Never burn outdoors if it is windy or extra dry! Do not burn general trash, only burn natural dry vegetation/herbs. Always check your local ordinances and make sure there are no burn bans in your area currently active!

If you are going to burn outside, clear away a circular space for the burning items. Far enough away from overgrowth, houses, powerlines, and other such things. The burning site should have plenty of dirt or gravel around it, usually around 10 feet, 304 centimeters circular if burning a campfire-size burning space. Make sure the dirt and gravel is well doused in water to prevent any spreading.

Always stay around the fire until it is completely out. Turn the debris from your burn a few times and douse it hard with water. NEVER leave dry ash on the ground, embers could be still warm enough to catch on the inside of the ash! Keep checking on that burn area for a few days or a few weeks to make sure nothing is left, especially during warmer or dryer months. Don’t toss matches or other lighting instruments just anywhere! Those can still be warm and still catch grass alight.

And there you have it! A crash course on being safe with fire while doing your thing and slinging your spells!

[migalloyuji]

I have to give it to Red Bull, they are very good at marketing

It’s been confirmed that Checo is staying for the next two years, not once an official source said otherwise, There are lots or deals on the line, specifically with Ford coming in 2026, in case you don’t know Ford has the biggest market in the America (continent)

So unless you can give solid prove there’s no evidence saying otherwise.

HOWEVER, I’m pretty sure RB themselves love these rumors, while Checo’s nonexistent exist is the main focus for some reason we don’t talk about:

1) how the RB20 is shit

2) how ever since Adrian Newey left everything RB built is slowly crumbling down

3) How Jonathan Weathey, a genius in engineering left

4) Horner’s accusations suddenly disappeared in plain sight

5) Joe Verstappen beefing with Horner

6) how Checo is stuck with an engineer that can’t do his job for shit

7) how not even Max is safe anymore and his championship is at risk

8) how RB suddenly doesn’t care about the constructors Championship, gimme a break

But OMG Horner was seen leaving the Williams hospitality room that means Colapinto is replacing Checo (it’s not happening guys I’m sorry to burst your bubble, he’s doing great tho)

But omg let’s keep feeding this rumors and leave our second driver to his luck, racism, threats and xenophobia aside

This GP solidify it for me, this team is beyond toxic and has no shame whatsoever

Sucks cause I love the Brazilian GP specially cause there’s always some homage to the legend Senna

I wished the Teams had more transparency

I wished the drivers mental health was prioritized

I wished the were better protecting their own driver agains death threats and racism

I’m just dumbfounded that’s all

[nrilliree]

https://www.tumblr.com/nrilliree/744400046656831488/i-saw-tg-posts-where-they-were-happy-that-at-the?source=share

Well, bad things happen to those who deserve it and to those who don't deserve it. Viserys's decisions created a situation in which civil war was inevitable, and Aegon's only fault was that he wanted to protect his family. I guess that's why it's easier for the greens to empathize with him and hate Viserys. In general, the blacks should hate him too, because Rhaenyra's problems are also his fault.

Yeah… Aegon didn't deserve bad things and his only fault was protecting his family? But… which Aegon, because certainly not Aegon II? Maybe Aegon didn't get much done before he ended up as a half-burnt ham, but as I remember:

Upon learning that Aemond had murdered Lucerys, Aegon threw a great feast.

He hanged all the rat catchers in the Red Keep.

He murdered Maester Gerardrys and hung the remains of his corpse in plain sight, even though the maester wanted to help him and was by definition loyal to whoever ruled the castle.

He planned to play Ramsay and castrate Aegon III and send his testicles to the Black generals in a show of force.

As king, he did absolutely nothing to stop Aemond from burning the Riverlands, part of "his own" kingdom, and to use him and Vhagar in the fight.

He ordered Aegon III, the child, to watch as Sunfyre killed Rhaenyra.

There aren't many scenes showing his despair for his sons and Helaena, but there are scenes in which he happily accepts the idea of marrying again and having sons, and quickly plans to hatch a new, better dragon that will be Sunfyre 2.0…

When there was famine and poverty because of the war, he decided to build great golden monuments in honor of his brothers: Chief War Criminal 1 and War Criminal 2, who burned and plundered this war-suffering kingdom… You know, the war that was caused by the kinh-usurper coronation.

AND

9. The show makes it clear that he was a goddamn rapist who liked watching kids fight and didn't care that his bastard ended up in that place.

Meanwhile, Viserys:

He appointed Rhaenyra as heiress and stuck to his decision for 20 years, making the lords pledge their allegiance for her.

He was a shitty husband and a crappy father.

Well, I don't know, but for me Aegon II has a little more on his conscience.

I'm a weak person who gets provoked by anonymous shit, I know.

[geekgirles]

The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 2: Make Yourself at Home

Word Count: 11703

Read on AO3

Previous/Next

Chapter Summary: "Ever since she was welcomed into the Eliatrope palace, Amalia has taken to wandering around the halls, even when left to her own devices. Tensions run high as not all members of the Council of Six have come to truly trust their unexpected guest, nor do they believe her intentions to be pure. And so, it is up to Yugo to find out the truth.

But, just what is the actual cause for the Divine Doll's little excursions around the palace? Could this just be a huge misunderstanding?"

Despite the limited amount of time Amalia spent there, she was sure Sadida’s realm in Inglorium had to be the reason behind the divine dimension’s idyllic nature. A lush paradise where all kinds of plants lived together in perfect harmony, no matter how different they were. Tropical jungles and rainforests showed off the vibrant green of their leaves and palm trees thanks to the constant rains they enjoyed. Grassy plains extended as far as the eye could see, with all sorts of flowers and herbs sprouting over the most beautiful canvas imaginable. 

Mighty oaks, firs, pines and all sorts of trees stood proudly on top of the lands’ mountainous territories. There was even a small, but not any less important, arctic area where rare, exotic plants that could only survive in cold temperatures thrived. Wherever she looked, she could see sources of water everywhere: from the constant rains showering the tropical species, to streams and rivers of all sizes and lengths going down the mountains and plains, to beautiful cascades located in their own secret gardens…

It was simply far too beautiful for words. It was nature in its purest form.

And Amalia could feel how each and every single living being there was a part of her, just like she was a part of them. 

It was such a stark contrast to life inside the Eliatrope palace. She understood her visit was sudden, so much so, it was a complete surprise for the portal-making people. They really hadn’t seen her arrival coming. Which was something her father had warned her about, how it might take her some time to endear herself to the Eliatrope King and his people. 

As expected of a god, her father had been right. Yugo, as he wished to be called if they were to be ‘friends’, had certainly been taken aback by the sight of her when they first met. And it only worsened once she took on her more human form. So much so, the Eliatrope remained quiet and motionless for an awkwardly long amount of time upon the sight of her. 

She truly feared she made a terrible first impression and that was the reason why he didn’t seem so keen on taking her as his bride. Amalia had yet to make sense of the weird wave of sadness and melancholy she felt whenever she thought about it—was that what people called ‘disappointment’? However, despite their unconventional first meeting and Yugo’s apparent disinterest in that thing called marriage, he didn’t seem to be opposed to the idea of the two of them fostering a positive relationship. So, even though she had been ready to abandon his home and return with her father, the Eliatropes seemingly welcomed her in and guided her to her new room.

That had been two weeks ago, and Amalia couldn’t help the melancholic, suffocating feeling that enveloped her. 

It wasn’t as if Yugo hadn’t kept good on his word. He was perfectly kind and cordial towards her; always asking how her day had been, indulging her curiosity a little about his, showing her around the palace, and gifting her with some very nice living spaces that were relatively close to his. 

She had yet to decipher what the odd comments his sister Nora made at that meant, or why they elicited a deep blush from Yugo, too. 

And yet, despite knowing she should be grateful and thank Sadida for the kindness and care she was being treated with despite being an outsider, Amalia couldn’t help but feel trapped. She had yet to be allowed to leave the palace premises and venture into Oma Island, especially if she was on her own. Without Yugo by her side, she really didn’t have anywhere to go. So she remained in her room.

That in itself shouldn’t have been so bad. After all, before being sent to the World of Twelve, she spent most of her time in Inglorium either at Sadida’s hut as he put the final touches on her or in her room. But there was something about this place that made her feel restless. No matter what she did, she couldn’t ignore the constant calls of the world outside, beckoning her to step out of the palace and inside the jungle.

There was a whole other world beyond the castle’s walls, she could feel it in her bones. A world the twelve gods themselves had helped create and replenished with wondrous splendour and experiences. Her whole body just itched and tingled at the thought of going out and exploring. 

But alas, that was but a pipe dream. The Eliatropes and their dragon siblings kept a close eye on her, probably because she had been sent by the gods and, therefore, they felt the need to treat her with care. And seeing as she was specifically there for Yugo, as long as he wasn’t available, there were many things she couldn’t do, so she remained confined to her room. 

She truly didn’t understand why that didn’t feel like enough, after all, her room was spacious and beautifully furnished. Her bed was comfortable and soft. Her closet was big and could hold many pieces of clothing. There was a large vanity with a mirror surrounded by bulbshrooms where she could preen herself all day long if she so wished. And her walls were tastefully decorated with more breath-taking murals depicting the Eliatropes’ history. 

But the more she spent inside those four walls, the more she yearned to get away from them. No matter how much she tossed and turned at night, she just couldn’t fall asleep. As of right now, she really didn’t have more outfits than the one she currently wore she could stash in her closet. The more she looked at herself in the mirror, the more Ibago’s words haunted her and made her feel inadequate, her eyes tracing the lack of stitches on her skin and making her feel like an outsider among her own kind. And, beautiful as they were, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the room’s stone walls were closing in on her the most she remained inside with nothing to do. 

Her one saving grace was the large balcony leading outside. Amalia wasn’t exaggerating when she said she spent most of her time there, leaning against the railing and staring off into the distance, wishing she had a Cra’s gifted sight to see what lay beyond the limits of her chambers. The most she could do was connect with the plants surrounding the castle to feel what they felt, but that only increased her yearning. 

The other thing she discovered her balcony allowed her to do and one she felt quite mesmerised by was seeing Yugo train. Just like she was doing at that very moment, her eyes followed his every move.

She truly didn’t understand why, but the sight of him gracefully jumping in and out of his portals reminded her of the time she witnessed her father dance at moonlight. It was so hypnotic, especially when he took things up a notch and combined his portals with his swordsmanship and hand-to-hand training. Hard as she tried, Amalia found she could not take her eyes off the Eliatrope when he executed complex moves and manoeuvres. Parring an imaginary enemy’s attack with his wakfu shield while he charged forwards with his sword. Or the way he would command dozens of portals to shoot energy beams at once towards a specific target. 

The spectacle was such, her eyes remained glued to it, to him. Even with her limited understanding of the world around her, Amalia understood Yugo was attractive. Very attractive. In a way, it was funny. Her father told her Yugo was her suitor, and as such, it was his intention to make her fall for him. And yet, she couldn’t help but think she was Yugo’s suitor instead. After all, she seemed far more captivated by him than he was by her…

Shaking her head from such thoughts, she got a hold of herself  just in time for Yugo to take notice of her and send her a friendly wave, which she returned with a small smile. Amalia couldn’t help but find it sad that such a small exchange had become the highlight of her day, for that usually meant Yugo was beginning to lose focus on his training, which at the same time meant he would be done for the day soon. 

And sure enough, not even five minutes later, he entered yet another one of his portals, only this time he didn’t reappear from another; at least, not within the doll’s line of sight. 

With a heavy sigh, Amalia’s body slagged forward, her head resting against her arms on the railing, wondering if today would be one of those days where Yugo showed her around the castle some more and entertained her for a bit or, if otherwise, she’d be on her own. If it was the latter, seeing as that was her home now as well, she could always wander the palace halls on her own, trying to sate her curiosity and wanderlust the only way that was available.

However, even after enough time had passed for Amalia to know she wouldn’t be seeing more of Yugo today and therefore she was free to explore the palace grounds, the Divine Doll couldn’t shake the feeling the rest of the Eliatrope Council had their eyes on her…

......................................................................................................................

“She spends a lot of time wandering around by herself. I don’t like it.” Efrim emitted a low, warning growl, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

“She is allowed to move freely around the palace, Efrim. She is our guest, not our prisoner.” Shinonomé countered, her golden eyes never leaving the orb right in front of her. 

“An uninvited guest, you mean.” Glip corrected pointedly, his chin resting over the handle of his cane as he held it with his hands. “The gods just sent her to us with no warning after months of silence. For all we know, she could be here to spy on us!”

“My point exactly. Thank you, Glip.” Efrim acknowledged his brother with a grateful nod of his head, right before sending his eldest sister a pointed look. 

The female dragon simply exhaled from her nose, puffs of smoke coming out of her nostrils even in her humanoid form. “From our research, Qilby and I have learned that Divine Dolls are difficult to classify and, therefore, to predict. They don’t share the same limitations as other demigods; for all we know, she could be acting independently from the gods’ will.”

Much to her shock and chagrin, this time it was her own twin who refuted her point with a rueful shake of his head. “My dear Shinonomé, you know the dolls’ unique circumstances also mean they’re closer to their creator than most other demigods—in fact, while Divine Dolls get to live in Inglorium alongside Sadida, most demigods have never even met their divine parents!” 

“Which I’m afraid could also mean she will always have his best interests in mind, rather than her own, or ours.” Chibi pointed out without looking up from the small contraption he and his dragon brother Grougaloragran were currently working on, a small wakfu hammer and chisel in his hands. 

“So you mean to say she’s always looking around in search of weaknesses to exploit?” Yugo urged his siblings to voice the thoughts and questions on their minds, growing impatient. He could not believe he had just got back only to be informed his presence was required for an urgent meeting with the Council.

They were all currently gathered at the council room, where the Eliatropes’ leaders met up to discuss urgent matters concerning their people, such as new buildings in need of construction, shortage of food, impending war, or anything that might put their people’s safety in jeopardy. Likewise, seeing as they all had very different duties and talents they used to serve their subjects, another and much more recurrent reason for gathering together was to update their siblings on their advances and struggles in their respective fields. 

The council room was one of the largest spaces inside the palace, second only to the throne room and the communal spaces meant to house large groups of people or protect their civilians when under attack. And with good reason, too. After all, it was supposed to be able to hold both six Primordial Eliatropes and their dragon siblings, even when the latter weren’t in their more humanoid forms. Meaning, it was imperative twelve people, half of them capable of turning into giant, draconic beasts, could be there comfortably. 

Although there were large windows carved onto the stone precisely for the purpose of them being able to join a meeting whenever, the room’s biggest source of light came from the very centre of it, sticking from a round table around which every council member usually sat at. Bathing everything around it in soothing blue, was a giant crystal orb known as the Eliaculus, one of Chibi and Grougal’s greatest inventions. While at first glance it reflected a sea of stars—an impressive feat in itself—, its main purpose was to keep an eye on their territory and help them strategise. All you needed to do to know what was going on on the opposite end of Oma Island was ask the Eliaculus and it would reveal the events unfolding at that very second. 

Another useful feature was that it also projected holographic images to better visualise whatever concerns troubled the Council.

From where he stood in the middle of the room, Yugo’s gaze swept across the council room, landing momentarily on each and every one of its occupants. At that very moment, the only absent members were Baltazar and Phaeris—the former was covering up for his twin in teaching the young ones as the meeting was taking place, for they would have an important exam soon and they couldn’t afford to lose any study time; and it was the latter’s turn to oversee the island and make sure the Twelvians didn’t try attacking them again.

Having just recently arrived, Efrim was seated leisurely against one of the window frames, his long, serpentine tail swaying back and forth in impatience. As Nora’s twin was the smallest of the Eliatrope dragons, he, unlike his siblings, chose to spend most of his time with his true appearance. His body was composed entirely of vivid periwinkle scales, from maw to tail; the only exceptions were his snow-white hair, matching his twin sister’s; his indigo eyelids; and the equally white underbelly and tip of his tail. His eyes were the most unusual out of all of them: instead of white, his sclera was a deep cobalt, and his slitted pupil a bright turquoise, not unlike the wakfu their people manipulated. Nora liked to say that reflected his special connection to their mother. 

Efrim stood out among the other dragons for not having any legs, only arms and a long, snake-like tail, although it was true his natural shapeshifting abilities allowed him to sprout a pair of thin yet strong limbs if he so wished. Even though he preferred to keep them tucked away for most of the time, the youngest dragon also possessed the most beautiful pair of wings out of all of them, thanks to their crystalline quality. 

Much like Nora, the battle with the Mechasms had turned the once joyful and optimistic Efrim into a jaded version of himself, quick to suspect outsiders if it meant ensuring his people’s safety. And, unfortunately, Amalia was an outsider for several reasons. 

Shinonomé, on the other hand, was Qilby’s twin sister, though listening to her retellings of their past lives was much more enjoyable as she never really acted nowhere as insufferable as her brother. Truth be told, even though both of them were technically the oldest of their group, Shinonomé was clearly the most rational one between her and Qilby which, coupled with her sweet demeanour, was the reason their siblings tended to go to her when they needed help. She was seated close to her brother at that very moment, in fact, her eyes going back and forth between Yugo and the Eliaculus.

Given her enormous size and her and Qilby’s natural talent for medicine, the red dragoness was the polar opposite of Efrim, choosing to remain in her humanoid form most of the time as to not frighten her youngest patients. 

Even so, she was far too proud of her origins to suppress her true nature. Such was reflected in her humanoid self. Much like her scales, her skin was ruby red from head-to-toe, with gold markings lining her body along her limbs, sides, and cheeks. Her waist-length hair that she kept in a loose braid—not unlike what her twin did with his beard— was platinum blond and scruffy, highlighted by the four long horns sprouting from her head, with a yellow diamond plastered on her forehead. Beyond her unusual skin colour and horned appearance, there were more details hinting at her true self, like her clawed hands, sharp teeth, and pointy ears; or her eyes—breath-taking and golden, with slitted pupils. Given she had no real use for modesty, she simply covered herself with a simple, sleeveless, yellow silk robe, with no need for shoes for her skin was thick enough to withstand practically anything. 

Glip, leaning back against his own chair at the table, opposite from the eldest twins, was the shortest Eliatrope by far. Always had been. Even when Yugo himself was still in the adolescent phase of his life and his body was that of a child despite his adult mind, back then he was still slightly taller than Glip. A fact he was wise not to say aloud lest he risked getting whacked in the head by his brother’s huge cane. 

Despite not possessing Qilby and Shononomé’s gift for remembering every single reincarnation, or the fact that he was quite ill-tempered, Glip’s passion had always been teaching the younger generations, which he always accomplished admirably thanks to the sheer amount of energy he put into each and every lesson he taught. The fact that, between the two, Baltazar was the most sweet-tempered also helped, as both siblings formed the perfect Firm Hand and Gentle Touch duo—Glip made sure the kids all stayed in line and behaved, while Baltazar was always there to listen to their problems, however small they might be, and encourage them to keep working. 

With a square face and an ever-present scowl, alongside his dark chesnut-coloured goatee, Glip always wore a green and beige tunic over a long-sleeved white undershirt and dark brown pants and pointed slippers. His tunic was tucked around the waist by a leather belt, ancient scrolls he used to keep track of his classes hanging from it. The use of headwear was a huge symbol in Eliatrope culture, and in Glip’s case, he wore a relatively simple hat the same colour as his tunic, though his had a small stump on either side of it. The one thing the shortest Eliatrope was never without was his cane, twice his height and forming a spiral at the top, decorated by three white protrusions. 

Chibi and Grougaloragran were hardly seen apart, and today was no exception as they occupied their respective seats at the table, hunched over their latest invention. In fact, the duo were the most formidable inventors their people had ever known. Although their ingenuity also meant they tended to be quite laser-focused and single-minded when it came to their goals. 

Chibi was the Eliatrope twin, and although he was usually much calmer and more laid-back than Grougal, he tended to be a tad more impulsive as well, especially when it came to battle. Much like his dragon brother, he preferred to wear black, as evidenced by his long cloak, covering his entire body. However, he still felt a fondness for gold that he exhibited in his chest plates and shoulder pads, a body-suit similar to Yugo’s but in black going all the way down from his abdomen. 

His white hair was trimmed into a bob cut and, much like his own goatee, created a nice contrast with his deeply tanned skin and hazel eyes. Despite his love for science, he was the most muscular Eliatrope sibling, and his features—a Roman nose, a strong jawline, an aloof yet cheeky glint in his eyes—only hinted at his hidden depths even more. When he wasn’t covering half his face with his hood, that is. 

Grougaloragran was his brother’s opposite in many ways. While more feisty and quick to anger than Chibi, he also knew when to keep a cool head better than his twin did when faced with aggression. Unlike Chibi, who preferred to keep going until the end, Grougal knew when to take a step back and make a strategic retreat.

Their contrast manifested in their appearance as well, especially when the black dragon decided to take on a humanoid form. As equally muscular and tanned as his brother, given his body was covered in scales, he felt no need to cover himself beyond a white robe, though his wasn’t form-fitting like Shinonomé’s. But that was where their similarities ended. Grougaloragran’s features were sharper, fiercer, befitting a dragon of his power. His cheekbones were sharp, his ears pointy, his golden eyes had slitted pupils and glowed even in the darkness, and he sported a long, silky, dark mane. 

Yugo and his siblings formed a very colourful group. They all had their strengths and weaknesses, and they all complemented each other by seamlessly working together, like a well-oiled machine. Except when they disagreed on something.

And they were all looking at him, their attention drawn by his comment. 

“It’s… a possibility.” Efrim finally said carefully, acknowledging the king’s previous comment about the Sadida Doll looking for weaknesses to exploit. 

“We can’t deny her mere presence on our island is quite suspicious.” Glip added, sharing a nod with the youngest dragon. Then, gesturing at Yugo, he went on, “Don’t forget, dear brother, two weeks ago you weren’t exactly happy with the news of her arrival either.”

Much to his chagrin, Glip had a point. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been fuming when he found out about the gods sending him a bride. Especially when what he needed was for his people to achieve a peaceful coexistence with this world’s natives, not some eye-candy to take his mind off his problems. 

Still, he tried to remain impartial. Even though it was true Amalia’s actions were suspicious, as king it was his duty to give people the benefit of the doubt until proven guilty.

“That’s true, but Amalia said she was sent here by the gods as a sign of good will between their people and ours. We can’t just accuse her of being an undercover agent!”

“One thing is what someone says, and a very different thing is the truth.” Efrim warned ominously, his eyes narrowed. Then, he fluttered open his crystal-like wings and, with one mighty flap, came to meet Yugo face-to-face. “We know nothing about her, for all we know, she could have been trained precisely to get us to lower our guards!” 

“Maybe, but what we do know is that she was both created and sent to us by the gods.” Adamaï countered, making sure to stress that last word so it got through Efrim’s skull as he pushed him back and away from his twin’s personal space. “If we want to be accepted by the Twelvians, the last thing we need is to offend their gods by mistreating one of their own. And considering Amalia is here precisely because of Yugo, he is the one who should be the most careful.”

Yugo flashed his brother a thankful smile at his unyielding support, who returned it with a nod. 

“Exactly, we can’t afford to act rashly and accuse Lady Amalia without tangible proof.” Shinonomé concluded, turning around in her seat to watch the interaction, and even Qilby nodded along to his sister’s assessment, though he was mostly just watching the show. 

“Why are you taking her side?!” Efrim demanded, his eyes flicking back and forth between his siblings in betrayal. Then, he zeroed in on Yugo, jabbing a claw at him. “What, a few days together and you’re already so blinded by lust you fail to see reason?”

A loud gasp echoed around the room, aghast expressions taking hold of their occupants faces. Even Glip and Nora were looking back and forth between their brothers worriedly. In fact, the only ones who didn’t react much were Qilby—who limited himself to rolling his eyes at the unnecessary melodrama—, and Chibi, his eyes fixated on his work. At least Grougal had more tact and actually looked up in alarm at the exchange.

“Efrim, that is quite enough!” Adamaï growled in warning, taking a step closer to his younger brother. He would have got right in his maw if it weren’t for Yugo stopping him by placing his hand on his chest.  

His face hardening into a scowl, his brown eyes narrowed in on his brother, the Eliatrope King tried to keep his voice cool and even as he said, “This has nothing to do with lust. There’s nothing going on between Amalia and I.”

“Oh, so now we’re supposed to believe you aren’t the tiniest bit attracted to her?” The dragon taunted, tilting his head to the side mockingly. Then, he scoffed, smoke coming out of his nostrils. “Please, we all know your brain stopped working the moment she changed forms; Nora had a blast retelling that to us.” 

From the other side of the room, watching the tense exchange with unease, Nora couldn’t help but wince, cursing her mischievous and teasing nature. Luckily for her, everyone’s eyes were on her twin instead.

It was hard to tell if it was on purpose or if he’d meant to mutter to himself, but it didn’t matter, they all heard him loud and clear when he said, “Obviously, your brain has yet to reboot itself…”

In the blink of an eye, Yugo and Adamaï adopted offensive positions, ready to charge, while  Efrim had dropped on his tail, waiting for when his brothers decided to pounce. However, just as it seemed a confrontation was imminent, a clear, authoritative voice cut through the tension: 

“That’s enough, you three!”

Everyone turned towards the origin of the voice. Leaning against the wall, her arms folded over her chest, stood a tall, elegant woman whose sharp, intelligent brown eyes were settled on her siblings. Her features were soft, the only indication of her silver hair being the two strands falling from her Eliatrope hat and delicately framing her face; unlike her siblings’, her hat pointed upwards and was tied in the middle with a piece of robe. She wore a long, sleeveless turquoise dress and armlets—all the same colour as her hat—, another rope tied around her waist as a belt. 

Normally, Mina was the most level-headed and collected member of the Council. But right now, her eyes were blazing furiously. 

She focused on Efrim, her hands on her hips as she adopted a reprimanding posture. “Efrim, enough of this! That is no way to speak to your brother, let alone your king!” 

“But he—!”

“I don’t want to hear it!” She cut him off, raising one hand as if to empathise her point. Her ears perking up at the sound of the other two’s muffled laughter, she swirled on them at lightning speed, causing them to yelp in surprise. “And that goes for you two as well. This is a place meant for debating and reaching compromise; what would our people think if they caught wind of infighting between their leaders?!”

“Tell that to Mr. Accusations over there.” Adamaï jerked a thumb Efrim’s way, who scowled. 

“I simply don’t understand why Yugo’s so quick to defend someone we barely know even when she’s exhibiting suspicious behaviour.”

Yugo was about to open his mouth, a counter on his lips, when Mina beat him to it. “Because Lady Amalia is not here right now to defend herself. It’s not right to accuse someone of something as serious as spying with malicious intent when they’re not even here to explain themselves.” As she said that, she also sent a glare Glip’s way for encouraging Efrim’s behaviour, the shortest Eliatrope shrinking even further in his seat under the heat of her gaze. 

 “Thank you, Mina.” Yugo sent his sister a nod, silently thanking her for intervening when she did as well. Thanks to their gifted wisdom, she and Phaeris were excellent conflict mediators; they always knew how to de-escalate an argument and resolve a dispute the fairest way possible. Be it among their subjects, or their siblings. He turned his focus back on Nora’s twin. “Efrim, I understand your concerns, but we can’t just brand Amalia as a traitor, not when there’s so much on the line. Do you see that now?”

But the furious flickering of Efrim’s tail and the low growl he emitted were signs of his agitated state. To him, it was plain to see they intended to let the doll’s actions go without a proper investigation, and that was a risk he knew they couldn't take, for it might lead to them losing everything. After all, they left the Mechasms to their own devices for millenia, convinced their bond would always remain symbiotic. And yet, next thing they knew, they had inexplicably lost their home at the hands of the very species they once trusted as their own.

Who was to say the Divine Doll, having been sent by the gods the very people that despised them worshipped, would not lead them to a similar outcome? It had only been two weeks since she arrived, that hardly counted as enough time for someone to prove themselves as trustworthy. 

How could his siblings not see that? Did the Mechasm War really mean so little to them? Hadn’t they all experienced the same horrors? Then why were they so willing to put their people’s safety in jeopardy like that? Why—?

A warm, comforting hand he was intimately familiar with made contact with his skin, rubbing soothing circles on his back. Eyes widening slightly, he turned his head to look back at Nora, his twin sister flashing him a small smile to remind him she would always be there. As always, her presence worked like a charm, allowing his shoulders to lose their tension and his mind to think a bit more clearly. 

Now that he wasn’t so overcome by anger and grief, he chanced a look around the room, and noticed everyone’s uneasy eyes on him. Realising what he might have done if he had lost control, the young dragon forced himself to take one deep breath and let it out slowly, the fog in his mind finally clearing.

“I’m sorry. I… I don’t know what came over me. I-I just…”

This time, he was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. When he looked up, Yugo was smiling kindly at him, Adamaï mirroring his expression, although his position remained slightly more guarded.

“It’s alright, Efrim. We’re all just tired from having to fight for the right to exist. It’s not your fault.”

He let out a mirthless chuckle. “Yes, I suppose you’re right, my King.”

“I think your bride’s presence has left us all a little rattled, Yugo.” Chibi commented idly, finally putting his latest invention down. “I propose we take a few minutes to decompress before tackling the subject again.”

“She’s not his bride, remember?” Nora recalled, some levity returning to her voice as she chuckled impishly.  “They’re just ‘friends’.” She made sure to air-quote exaggeratedly. 

She let out a loud yelp when Yugo shoved her not-so-playfully in retaliation, almost knocking her to the ground. After a beat, laughter filled the room, some of it more reserved than the rest, but the Eliatrope family finally began to relax despite the tense meeting they found themselves in. 

Still, Efrim’s words echoed in Yugo’s head. A part of the Eliatrope King had a hard time believing Amalia could be gathering intel on them per the gods’ request. And it wasn’t because he was attracted to her—because he wasn’t! Acknowledging an objectively attractive person was attractive was not lust, just mere facts. But because, despite their limited time together, her childlike wonder for the world around her and slight awkwardness when dealing with him made it plain to see the Divine Doll didn’t have much experience with the outside world. 

Or, at least, she didn’t know much about the Eliatropes. Which made sense, given they hadn’t even been on the same planet until less than a year ago.

Maybe she was just curious and wanted to learn more.

However, she was also quite reserved and courteous. Even when he took notice of the way her eyes glimmered in fascination at some of the things he showed her, she never asked anything about them unless he talked about them first. Which could be her way of throwing them off her trail. If she didn’t appear overly interested and eager to know more, then they would have no reason to believe she was spying on them and trying to learn their weaknesses. She could just be playing dumb.

Just as Yugo was beginning to question the Sadida Doll’s true intentions, Adamaï’s words made him realise how unfair he was being. 

“I understand your concern, Efrim.” He began, sliding up to the younger dragon and snaking his tail around his shoulders for comfort. “It's too soon to claim we know everything about our guest. But if it makes you feel better, when she arrived and we showed her around a little, I took the chance to read her wakfu.”

“You read her wakfu!?” Shinonomé exclaimed in surprise, her eyebrows shooting up to the ceiling. “But, Adamaï, didn’t you learn from that botched meeting with this world’s rulers? That is something extremely invasive here!”

“I know, I know.” The white-and-blue dragon raised his palms up placatingly. “However, I figured it was justified given an outsider would be living with us from now on.”

At his words, the red dragoness paused, seemingly reflecting over what he said, before she finally calmed down with a nod of assent. 

His sister placated, he continued, turning his focus back on Efrim. “What I saw was a clean aura. While it might be too soon to lower our guards completely, at least we can trust we’ll be able to tell if there are any changes.”

“I… suppose that’s fair.” Efrim acknowledged, his claw holding his head pensively. 

“Nevertheless, I could try getting to the bottom of this and figure out why she wanders through the palace alone.” Yugo said, his tone light, but the meaning behind it was serious. 

“But Yugo, what about offending the gods? Won’t accusing Amalia of having ulterior motives for being here cause trouble for us?” Nora asked, her brow furrowed in concern. 

The king just rolled his eyes. “I’m not saying we lock her up in the dungeon and refuse to give her food or water until she fesses up; I’m just going to ask her nicely but directly for an explanation.”

“Uh… Not to be rude, but what makes you think she'll just up and tell you just because you ask nicely?” Glip arched an eyebrow, staring at his brother like he’d grown a second head. 

Blinking in confusion, Yugo could only shrug helplessly, as if the answer was obvious enough. “Um, because I’m clearly the one she’s closest to around here? If she’s gonna be comfortable opening up to someone, that someone is me.”

Silence fell over the council room, the Council looking back at their king and blinking slowly at his thought process. And then, after a beat…

“Yeah. Are you sure there’s nothing going on between you two?” Qilby asked, his tone dripping with ill-veiled amusement. His smirk only grew at the blush colouring his king’s cheeks. 

Oh, who knew having a Sadida Doll around would be this fun!

“There’s not!” Yugo squealed, before realising how his voice sounded and clearing his throat. Purposely making his voice sound deeper, he insisted, “Seeing as she is here because of me, I’m the one who’s been spending the most time with her, meaning she’s bound to feel more comfortable talking to me than any of you.”

“I don’t know.” Nora commented idly. She came to lean against a column, looking disinterestedly at her nails, although the amused smirk on her lips didn’t help hide her true feelings. “I was there when she introduced herself. And she’s just my type; I’m sure I could get her comfortable real quick…”

“Nora, down.” Mina said flatly. With an almost bored flick of her hand, she conjured up a portal directly connected to the sea, causing some of the water to be sprayed straight into her younger sister’s face. 

Nora hissed in displeasure. 

“Thank you, Mina.” With that taken care of, Yugo turned his focus back on the conversation at hand. “The point is, she’s here because of me, so I should be the one talking to her about her daily walks around these walls…” After a beat, he couldn’t help but wonder aloud. “It is a bit odd how often she’s out of her room even when I’m not taking her anywhere…”

“Maybe that’s the problem?” Mina suggested. 

“What do you mean?” Adamaï asked, tilting his head in confusion. 

“Maybe she’s out and about so much precisely because she doesn’t like her room.”

“Oh, no. That’s impossible.” Chibi waved the mere notion off at the same time as Grougal vehemently shook his head. “Girlie got one of the best rooms in the entire palace; she’s got nothing to complain about!”

“Grougaloragran’s interior design is flawless.” The black dragon leaned back in his chair stubbornly. His mere body language was challenging everyone gathered to try and contradict him. 

The thing about genius inventors and master builders was their ego. And when you had literal lifetimes to perfect your creations and master new disciplines like Chibi and Grougal did, your ego was the size of Amakna. 

“Well, whatever it is, I’ll get to the bottom of it. I promise.” Yugo said quickly, not really in the mood to listen to another long-winded spiel about the intricacies of architecture and interior design, or how long it took them to realise the perfect shade to paint their walls in was eggshell white instead of cream white because cream white was too dark for the overall look they were going for. 

“Yes, it’ll be for the best.” Finally leaving her place beside the wall, Mina made her way to her seat, ready to get this meeting rolling and to present her and Phaeris’ latest findings to their siblings at last. As she did so, however, she couldn’t help but mutter, “For all we know, she’s just as much of an adventurer as you two and just wishes to explore a little.”

Yugo and Adamaï exchanged glances at their sister’s comment… and immediately afterwards had to stifle down their laughter. No one was as much of an adventurer as they were. Their wanderlust was insatiable. Part of the reason they were so eager to reach an understanding with the Twelvians—besides their subjects’ safety, of course—was so they could finally go see this whole new world without fear of causing a commotion. 

“If she turns out to be as much of an adventurer as Yugo and Adamaï, she’d better not clutter Grougaloragran’s beautiful room with her knick-knacks. Grougaloragran did not spend thirty-six hours painting those walls only for a pile of souvenirs to hide them from view.” 

......................................................................................................................

Amalia found herself exploring every nook and cranny of the palace yet again. Even though the Council’s residence would technically be her home for who knew how long, meaning she believed she had a right to know where she lived, a part of her couldn’t help but feel like she was doing something wrong. Especially when she encountered some of the council members besides Yugo. 

She shuddered subconsciously when her mind traced back to a few days ago, where after turning a corner she’d come face to face with Nora and the Eliatrope dragon she introduced as her brother, Efrim. While Nora had remained as polite as when they first met—though the meaning of some of her comments flew right over her head—, her twin was a completely different story. 

His loaded gaze was fixated on the Sadida Doll the entire time. It was so intense, Amalia couldn’t help but feel scrutinised, curling over herself for comfort. She vaguely remembered gulping involuntarily in his presence. For some reason she couldn’t explain, the doll had a feeling Efrim didn’t like her much. 

Fearing she might get the same reaction from the other Primordial Eliatropes and their dragon siblings—the little one, Glip, if her memory didn’t fail her, didn’t seem very nice—, Amalia tried not to get too greedy. In other words, whenever she ventured around the palace walls on her own, she made the conscious effort to always discover new rooms one place at a time, and to never remain away from her room for long periods of time. 

Her first little adventure had been a simple walk from her chambers to the throne room. Deep down she was mostly just making sure she’d be able to remember where her room was even without help. She was just retracing her steps, really.

The next logical step was to include the dining room to her slowly-increasing list. Most of the time her food was actually delivered to her room by some servants, be it breakfast, lunch, or dinner. But sometimes, her time together with Yugo would either start or culminate in the two of them sharing a meal as they made civil conversation. Thinking back, she had yet to have dinner with the entire Council of Six at once. Although Yugo said that was mostly because they were all so busy and had such different schedules, their dining together was a rare occurrence these days. 

Then she considered it best to know where all the delicious food she got to enjoy each and every day came from, so she made her way around until finding the kitchen. Just her luck, she stumbled upon it just as the chef and kitchen staff were getting ready to begin making lunch. 

To say they all had been mutually startled by their presence would be an understatement. 

Even so, as soon as everyone’s heartbeat was once again under control, they all shared brief interactions as they introduced themselves. Amalia learned many things that day, but the one that stood out the most to her was the fact that she didn’t see herself cooking any time soon. 

She had been understandably amazed by the way Chef Telif and his staff transformed raw ingredients into culinary delicacies; it was almost magical. But something about the process—the patience it required, all the cutting, slicing, and chopping involved, how dirty one could get—just didn’t sit right with her, for some reason. 

Today, her usual exploring had led her to the palace school. While she didn’t dare open the door, as she vaguely recognised Glip’s voice and she didn’t want another encounter like the one with Efrim, Amalia couldn’t bring herself to stop listening to his lesson from behind the door. 

She couldn’t quite catch everything he said, but the few things she did understand were incredibly fascinating. The more Glip spoke, the more Baltazar added or put things into context, the more Amalia wanted to know. In the end, she stayed glued to the door for the entirety of the lesson, only tearing herself away from it when she heard the teaching duo dismiss the class, causing Amalia to yelp as she hurried to get away and back to her room. 

It was precisely on the way back to her chambers, that an unexpected but increasingly familiar voice cut through her thoughts. 

“Amalia.”

Gasping in surprise, she turned around, her face breaking into a wide grin at the sight of the one person she could call her friend here. She didn’t really understand why the sight of him made her so happy; she just relished the warm feeling she got whenever he was close. 

“Yugo!” She exclaimed in delight. Skipping closer to him, she couldn’t help but beam, “What a surprise, I didn’t expect to see you today! Normally, you come looking for me in my room shortly after you’re done with your daily training.”

Clearing his throat at the reminder of their daily routine, a small blush coming to his cheeks, the Eliatrope King tried to redirect the conversation where he wanted to without arousing suspicion. “Well, yeah. That’s true. But there’s something I want to ask you and the sooner I do it, the better.”

Then, he gestured for her to follow him as they continued their walk, their pace unhurried.

“Oh.” She could only blink at that, surprised by his reason for seeking her out. Pulling herself together, she shrugged. “I see. And… what is it you wish to ask me?”

“This is just like ripping a band-aid off. The sooner I say what’s on my mind, the sooner we’ll be done.” Yugo told himself, steeling his resolve even as he noticed Amalia’s big brown eyes staring back at him expectantly from the corner of his eyes. He gulped.That made it slightly more difficult. 

Taking one deep breath, he decided to just go for the kill. “Amalia, is there a reason why you’re always wandering around the palace halls on your own?”

Eyes widening at his question, she couldn’t help but avert her eyes, ignoring the way the action caused the Eliatrope to narrow his own eyes at her. Yes, there was a reason for her daily little excursions, but she couldn’t tell him what it was! Her arrival had already shaken them off quite badly, from what she’d gathered; she couldn’t make things even more difficult for them. 

Besides, admitting she just felt lonely while Yugo and his siblings were busy ruling their people just felt childish and selfish. 

“No, there’s no reason.” She said instead. “I just want to know more about you and your people, I guess.”

Unfortunately, saying that had been the wrong move. Alarmed that Efrim and Glip might have been right, and knowing the Divine Doll was lying because of her elusive response and guarded pose, Yugo pressed on. 

“Amalia, I’m not mad. If there’s something bothering you, you can just tell me.” He tried to keep his voice even and reassuring, but nothing could keep the tinges of irritation from leaking through. 

The Divine Doll, of course, picked up on it. “You don’t really sound like you’re not mad… Quite the opposite, really.”

“And it definitely doesn’t look like you have no reason to wander around on your own.” Yugo bit back accusingly, before wincing at how easily he was losing his temper. 

Startled by his words, Amalia bit her lip and averted her eyes. She contemplated on coming clean, but decided against it. It really was nothing, so she told him as such:

“It’s nothing important.” With a flick of her head, she walked ahead of him, hoping that would put an end to their conversation. She was abruptly stopped in her tracks, however, by Yugo’s hand firmly taking hold of her wrist and bringing her closer. 

Seeing the surprised expression on the Divine Doll’s face and worrying he might have gone too far or caused her harm, the King of the Eliatropes let her hand go with a sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, “Amalia, please. Just tell me what’s wrong. I promise, whatever the reason, we can talk things out, but I need to know why you’re always walking around the halls on your own.”

He chose to keep to himself how her actions were rather suspicious and putting his siblings on edge, the fear of a potential betrayal lingering in the air. He had the feeling that would only rattle her even more. 

For a while, Amalia said nothing. She just kept looking down to her side, her lips pursed and one hand rubbing the wrist he grabbed absentmindedly. For some reason, that irked him. That irked him beyond belief. 

Here he was, doing everything in his power to give her the benefit of the doubt, to allow her to prove his brothers wrong and clear things out. Great Goddess above, he was actually putting a stranger’s feelings over his siblings! And here she was, not even trying to make things easier for him, doing everything in her power to appear as guilty as possible instead. 

Narrowing his eyes, he opened up his mouth, “Amalia, were you sent here to—?”

But just as he was about to flat-out ask for her true intentions and risk offending the gods with his distrusting nature, the Divine Doll unknowingly saved him when she blurted out, “I just hate being in my room, okay?!”

Mouth dropping in disbelief at her words, his brain struggling to process what she just said, he caught a flicker of blue from the corner of his eyes. Blinking in surprise, his eyes travelling fleetingly to Amalia’s form as she hid behind him with a squeak, Yugo could only look on as two very agitated Chibi and Grougaloragran jumped right out of a portal and in front of them. 

“What do you mean you hate your room?!” They bellowed in unison, incredulous. Their imposing figures only intimidated Amalia even more. 

Taking notice of the Sadida Doll’s discomfort and feeling a surge of protectiveness rising within him even despite the previous tension, Yugo cleared his throat to get his brothers’ attention. Once their eyes settled on him, he discreetly motioned with his head for them to take a step back. 

As soon as they obliged his silent request, he glanced down at Amalia, meeting her gaze. “Is that true? You just don’t like your room?”

He almost felt a vein pop at the way Chibi and Grougal were ‘whispering’ among themselves about how it was a much bigger deal than he made it out to be. 

Amalia, however, was undeterred. Emerging from behind him, despite the fact that she had her arms around herself, hugging herself for comfort, her voice was loud and clear when she said, “Yes, that’s the truth. I spend so much time around the palace because I can’t stand being there.”

“But why?!” Chibi demanded, before a warning look from both Yugo and Grougal forced him to take a better look at the doll and realise he was making her uncomfortable. He sheepishly cleared his throat. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, my Lady, but yours is one of the finest rooms inside these walls.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I just…” The words got stuck in her throat. She still felt so silly for complaining about this after the Eliatropes had been so kind to take her in, even when they had informed her she might not be able to fulfil her original goal. But just as she was biting down on her lip, willing the words to leave her mouth, she felt a hand on her shoulder. 

Looking up, she saw Yugo smiling comfortingly down at her, encouraging to speak up without fear of retaliation. She felt her cheeks grow hot. 

“Amalia, it’s okay. We just want to help, that’s all.”

Recovering from her momentary shock, she gave a determined nod and took one deep breath before explaining herself. “Back in Father’s realm, I could feel everything. Everything was a part of me and I was one with it all. It was like I was never alone and, I don’t know, I guess that was very comforting. 

“But here, in my room… Everything feels so sterile. I know there’s so much more beyond my balcony, beyond these walls, but I can’t connect with it like I did in Inglorium. At least, not when I’m in my room. Everything feels so cold in there, so stifling. The more I spend inside those walls, the more I can feel them closing in on me… I hate it. I only feel better when I’m away from it, like when you come to spend time with me.”

As she admitted how she felt, she looked up at Yugo, hoping to convey what she was saying to him in particular. “I guess I’m always going around the palace to escape that feeling, to escape that loneliness…” She said that last part with a voice so small, Yugo, Chibi, and Grougal had to strain themselves to hear her properly. 

Yugo was taken aback by the waves of sympathy he felt towards Amalia at that moment. He, too, hated being confined to one place, that was the reason why he and Adamaï were always adventuring, just like it explained why he’d been feeling so restless ever since they arrived at the World of Twelve and they’d been more or less confined to Oma Island for months. Thinking back to these past few weeks since the Sadida Doll arrived, he realised with a start he hadn’t been feeling quite as on edge since she arrived. 

Apparently, Amalia was good at taking his mind off certain things, after all.

And seeing her now, so despondent… It just didn’t sit well with him. He had to help her somehow.

Sending a meaningful look his brothers’ way, the three of them silently convened on what to do. With a nod of agreement upon deciding on what course of action to take, he turned his focus back on Amalia.

“Would it help if we tried to make your room feel less lonely?”

She perked up at that. “Can you really do that?”

“Please.” Chibi scoffed playfully, matching smirks on his and his twin’s faces. “Grougal and I designed this whole place’s layout.” He said, gesturing at the palace around them.

Grougaloragran finished for him. “There is nothing we cannot do.”

.....................................................................................................................

After a grateful nod from Amalia for their offer, the four of them made their way back to her room. Thinking back, Yugo had never paid it much mind. Back when it was still unoccupied he, realistically speaking, had no reason to be there, and once Amalia did arrive, the few times he picked her up he would just wait for her by the door, never stepping foot inside. 

But now that he was here, he could sort of see why Amalia would feel so down—though he would never admit it to Chibi and Grougal out of self-preservation. Yes, the Divine Doll’s room was pretty, spacious, and had everything anyone could ever need, but it definitely didn’t feel cosy or lived-in. Maybe it was because it had barely been two weeks since Amalia lived here, or maybe it was the fact that Yugo and Adamaï’s room back in their homeworld was filled to the brim with souvenirs from their many adventures, but this place was just bare.

If it weren’t because of Amalia’s unmade bed and crumpled sheets, the place would look as immaculate as if it didn’t have someone living in it at all. With a quick look inside her empty closet, Yugo momentarily wondered if he should summon the Royal tailor and have some clothes made for the Sadida Doll. She couldn’t just wear the very same outfit forever, no matter how good it looked on her—.

Shaking his head in an effort to dispel those thoughts, Yugo made a show of clasping his hands that momentarily startled the other people present. If he was being honest with himself, however, he was doing it more to get his own attention than his companions’. 

With forced cheeriness, he turned to the doll, “So, Amalia. Do you have any idea on how you’d like your room to look?”

“If you permit us, my Lady.” Chibi cut in, stepping deeper into the room. With a snap of his fingers, he opened a portal from which several papers fell into Grougaloragran’s awaiting arms. “While we insist you don’t change the murals—I’m sorry, but we really did spend a lot of time on those—, we have some suggestions that should really help liven up the room. Don’t we, Grougal?”

The dragon nodded. Picking up what to Yugo and Amalia looked like some random paper, he opened it with a flick of his wrist and pointed at its contents with his claw. “A warm-coloured carpet is a great choice; it can make anything feel more homey in no time at all, as well as help warm things up in winter. Chibi and Grougaloragran can also help you pick any poster you like to add a little personal touch. Not to mention, adding some home décor is another great choice. Personally, Grougaloragran believes you can never go wrong with a little gold.”

“But that’s mostly because he is a dragon and they're known for being such hoarders. Just ask Enutrof.” Chibi whispered to a bewildered Amalia, purposefully ignoring the way his twin huffed at him in annoyance. 

“You say that as if you weren’t wearing gold-plated armour right now.” Yugo pointed out flatly, raising one eyebrow sarcastically. 

Blinking in surprise at the revelation, Amalia tried to steal one quick peek under the muscular Eliatrope’s black cloak and, lo and behold, Yugo was right; he really did wear golden armour underneath!

Chibi made a psh! sound with his mouth as he crossed his arms in mock offence, rolling his eyes. Looking back down at the Divine Doll, he put an arm around her surprisingly small shoulders and brought her closer—and secretly but thoroughly enjoyed the way that small action seemed to ruffle his king’s feathers, judging from the irked grimace on his face and his left eye, twitching every so often. 

Two words: in denial. 

Stowing that for later, the white-haired Eliatrope turned his focus back on the conversation at hand. “Anyway, my Lady, it’s your room. What would you like it to have?”

Glancing back and forth between Chibi’s hand on her shoulder and back at his face, Amalia could only blink for a while, her brain struggling to catch up with the rapid-fire conversation they had just had over things she didn’t understand. She didn’t really know anything about carpets, or home décor, or whatever; but she did know what she wished her room had. 

“I was thinking about adding some plants?” She finally admitted. 

Her response caused the three men in her room to just blink at her for a few seconds, then at each other, astonished, though mostly for not being able to figure that out themselves. After a beat, the Sadida Doll had to do a double take because Chibi went from standing by her side to rejoining his twin brother through a portal. 

She wondered if she would ever get used to that. …or even go through one herself. What would that feel like?

“I mean, technically, she is a Sadida. It makes perfect sense she’d want some plants in her room.” Chibi reasoned, a hand to his hairy chin. 

“Plants do add a lot of life to a room.” Grougal concurred. Then, he pointed at a corner of the room, near her vanity. “We could put a nice ficus there.”

Chibi’s whole face just lit up. “That’s a great idea! Or maybe, we could put the ficus over there,” he pointed at the opposite side of the room, “and place a flower vase on her vanity!”

“Grougaloragran believes Qilby has quite the nice selection of specimens. We could always ask him.”

“Oh, you’re right! And you know Qilby, always eager to show off his entire collection. Though that could also mean he might get a bit cranky if we ask him to lend us some of his plants ‘just to decorate a room’”, he air-quoted with a roll of his eyes his twin couldn’t help but mimic. “Maybe if we told him—”

As they discussed things, Amalia just stared at them while they went at it, feeling a little lost. She might not have spent much time on Oma Island or got to intimately know its residents, but somehow, those two were some of the most eccentric people she had ever met. Suddenly she felt a presence slide up to her, though by then she had a pretty good guess as to who it was. And, sure enough, looking up, she saw Yugo staring down at her with a tentative smile on his lips.

“What do you say, Amalia?” He asked. “Do you think that’ll be enough to make you feel better?”

Instead of answering right away, Amalia bit the inside of her cheek, thinking long and hard about what she wanted and, more importantly, what she could do to get it. She was obviously grateful to Chibi and Grougaloragran for offering their help, but she honestly didn’t see how their suggestions could accomplish much. Especially when she believed she had a much more effective way of doing things…

Her mind made up, a determined glint in her eyes, she called out to the inventors. “Um, excuse me?” When she had their full attention, she continued. “While I’m very grateful for all your help, I think I actually have a better idea?”

Exchanging intrigued glances and a shrug, the white-haired Eliatrope and his dragon twin simply crossed their arms over their chests, giving the Sadida Doll the silent ‘go-ahead’. “Well, let’s hear it.”

However, Yugo, Chibi, and Grougaloragran could only look on, perplexed, when, instead of answering, Amalia simply turned her back to them and walked a little deeper into the room, placing herself just in between her bed and closet door. Jabbing a thumb her way, they tried asking their king for an explanation, but he could only offer a helpless shrug in response, just as lost as they were. 

Taking a deep breath, determination and power coursing through her veins, Amalia slammed her hands down against the floor, a current of green energy leaving her palms and travelling all around the room. 

For a moment, the three men present looked around the space, waiting for something to happen. When after a beat nothing seemed to have changed, Chibi opened his mouth to speak:

“Well, it was a nice try, but don’t worry, we’ll take care of this in no—!”

His words were interrupted by a yelp leaving his throat as a sudden tremor enveloped the room and almost sent him crashing against the floor. It was only thanks to his twin’s quick-thinking he didn’t fall flat on his butt. 

While Amalia was beaming, Yugo and his siblings could only look on, holding onto each other for dear life and their mouths agape, at the events taking place right in front of them. 

From seemingly out of nowhere, countless vines sprouted outside the room and cascaded down the balcony; they were so long they almost formed a rope that reached the ground outside the palace walls. Inside the room proper, a torrent of flowers of all colours bloomed all over the walls—though, Yugo noted, they were careful enough not to cover any of the murals painted on them. As far as met the eye, the few spaces that weren’t covered in flowers or murals had huge, thick vines and ferns forming spirals, be it on the walls or on the floor beneath their feet—Grougal actually had to jump up to avoid one that was literally growing underneath him. Even her vanity’s bulbshrooms shone brighter. Their heads snapped in alarm at the sound of something breaking and, sure enough, a giant, red flower had blossomed right beneath Amalia’s bed, replacing it, and sent the piece of furniture flying in a dozen tiny pieces.

Thinking fast, Yugo conjured several small portals to catch all the broken pieces and deposit them down safely right outside the palace grounds, forming a pile of garbage that raised a few eyebrows among the passersby.

The end result was as if nature had overtaken the Eliatrope castle after centuries of it being uninhabited. It was both breathtaking and a little sobering. And to think this was but a fragment of what a Divine Doll could do with nature…

After all that, the only thing they could say to Amalia’s display of power was:

“Grougaloragran stands corrected. We could not have done that.”

Laughing in delight, Amalia threw herself at her new bed, squealing happily as she rolled back and forth over its petals. Despite his awed state, Yugo couldn’t help but smile fondly at the scene. Seeing her so happy for once was just precious. 

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” She exclaimed, propping herself onto a seated position. Opening her arms wide, she gestured at the space around her. “This is so much better. It finally feels like my room!”

“No need to thank us…” Chibi said, partly because they literally had done nothing. This was all her!

“It was our pleasure.” Grougaloragran agreed with a nod. 

And with that and kind wishes for Amalia, they exited the room, leaving their king and the doll alone. 

For some reason, while Amalia was on her bed, staring back at him expectantly, Yugo remained rooted to his spot. Suddenly, seeing her get comfortable inside the flower was bringing forth all kinds of thoughts he should not be having about her. It was best he remained as far away from her and her new bed as possible. 

“Thank you, Yugo.”

Amalia’s kind words broke him out of his trance. Looking back at her, his breath hitched. Once again, the sweet, warm, genuine grin she had on when they first met and he welcomed her in was curling at her lips, her brown eyes flashing with appreciation and gratitude. It was stunning. She was stunning.

He was starting to really hate Sadida and his prodigious craftsmanship. 

“For what?” He heard himself ask back. 

Amalia tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, almost shyly. “For… for worrying about me. For listening to me even when it was silly. You really didn't have to.”

“Hey, now.” He admonished her gently, subconsciously closing the distance between them. Almost without realising it, she took her by the hand. “Don’t say that. It wasn’t silly.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I mean, you’re our guest. The least we can do is make sure you’re comfortable.”

“I suppose you’re right. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He told her, a small smile growing on his lips. Then, he said a bit more seriously, “Amalia, if you ever feel uncomfortable or like you need anything, don’t hesitate to tell me. It’ll be much better if you’re just upfront about whatever’s bothering you, trust me.”

He chose not to tell her it would also make it easier for him and his siblings to come to trust her if she didn’t act so suspicious all the time. 

“I-I see.” She stuttered. “I-I’ll try to work on that.”

“I’m sure you will.” And with that, he let go of her hand and was about to leave her room when, just as he reached the door frame, she called out to him:

“Yugo, wait!��

Looking at her over his shoulder, her outstretched in his direction, he raised a curious eyebrow. “Yes, Amalia?”

“I-I was just wondering…” Amalia stammered, her hands fidgeting with her dress nervously. Pursing her lips, she couldn’t help but avert her eyes as she admitted, “I’d also really like to leave the palace.”

“Oh.” Was all Yugo could say to that. He rubbed the back of his head in discomfort, though he didn’t take his hood off, the doll couldn’t help but notice. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea…” 

“I just want to explore Oma Island!” She rushed out to clarify. “I… I just…” She hesitated. Frustrated with herself, she took a deep breath and started over. “Do you ever get the feeling that there’s so much more out there? Like your world is too small and you can’t wait to broaden it? That’s how I feel, I just can’t help it. Don’t get me wrong, the palace is beautiful and its staff very kind, and you’re always so nice to me but…! But I can’t help myself from wanting—.”

“More.” Yugo finished for her, unbidden. He could only stare at her in awe, his eyes glimmering with something foreign and powerful. Everything she said resonated with his very core. Everything she was expressing was the exact same thing he felt all the time! That pull to see what lay beyond his home, the need to live new experiences, the call of something new, and exciting, and unfathomable luring him in!

The feeling that you were constantly outgrowing what you already knew. 

That was precisely what he and Adamaï always felt, what pushed them to travel the world in search of adventure…

“For all we know, she’s just as much of an adventurer as you two and just wishes to explore a little.”

Mina’s earlier words echoed through his mind. Combined with her call on Amalia’s opinion on her room, it was a little unnerving how on the mark his sister could be sometimes. It was almost as if the prophet was her, instead of Chibi. 

Once again, Amalia put an early stop to his thoughts. 

“That’s right.” She chuckled softly. “My father helped create this world, Yugo, alongside the other gods. I just really want to see what they did.” Then, she grew nervous again, fiddling with her fingers. “So I was wondering if perhaps you could show me around?”

Almost involuntarily, his expression softened. Before he could even register his lips moving, he said, “Of course, Amalia. Let’s go out on an adventure together soon.”

The smile she rewarded him with was blinding.

It wouldn’t be until hours later that Yugo would come to a very unsettling realisation:

“Wait a minute, did she grow all that from stone?!”

[sillyfreakingstrings]

Going with the trend!!!

i FINALLY got some inspiration to draw my oc again!!! well, a relationship chart at least. more detailed explanations are below the cut :3

oh yeah if you DOOOO want her ref it's right here:

https://www.tumblr.com/sillyfreakingstrings/771210759353073664/i-finally-did-it?source=share

And text reference! ↓

🌊 "You can also use her name or any water related emoji too btw!!!"

okay im just gonna say this SHE IS A HATERRRRR so that's why she dislikes so much people lol

Main Game:

Lil Mac ⭐:

I mean, other than the fact that she met him after one of his world circuit matches she doesn't really know who he is. She is proud of him for keeping up his wins though- She's a bit.. jealous of how he's only 17 and already set to become champion. Now if only she could reach for the stars too..

Glass Joe 🥖:

Ah yes, the latter of the bunch. They've never met, but she's heard of him. Sometimes she imagines herself with the persistence to keep going though.

Von Kaiser 🇩🇪:

Yeah, they've met. No, she doesn't plan on seeing him anytime soon. They've interacted, but she just doesn't vibe with the whole "dictator" vibe going on. Infact it's a little weird to be honest.

Disco Kid 🪩:

Hell yeah! Finally someone that matches her vibe. They're..friends? Sort of? There's a weird tension between the two that's just. Off. Occasionally she comes to the club to meet up and dance, especially when she wins her own matches! She's really only there because her friend..(ANOTHER OC will make a ref...uh later-)

King Hippo 👑:

She just thinks he's mad ugly LMAO

(In all seriousness they've met but she does not like to keep up a conversation with this man. Not like hippo can speak much in the first place.)

Piston Hondo 🍙:

Hondos like a father figure to her. From his wisdom, his honor..even food tastes! They both talk often both in and out of the dumb collabs both the leagues make them do. Guess there was some good coming from these in the first place.

Bear Hugger 🧸:

Great guy to hang around! Other than the smell of what seems to be like fish and tree bark she doesn't mind striking up a conversation once in a while. Pretty chill if you wanted to fish with him. Maybe in the future she'll show him how to catch an alligator...

Great Tiger 🐯:

Never met before and probably will never go out of her way to talk with him. She is not so keen about him as well, Disco or anything.

Don Flamenco 🌹:

Had to talk with him at least once while being on a girl's trip with Carmen, and let's just say..she isn't a big fan of him. She just doesn't get how sooo much people fall for him. Would never tell Carmen about that..it's probably for the best.

Aran Ryan 🍀:

The crazed Irish himself. Honestly she sees some of herself within him, which is why they both are friends. There's something about him that makes her feel..different. She can see the glances he does every so often when it looks like she's distracted, but it's probably to get a better look. Right?

Soda Popinski 🍾:

Jesus Christ dude chill with the red. Is that your whole color scheme? Hates on him in secret just because he sounds very insane. Probably blind sighted by Aran however.

Bald Bull 🐂:

He's just plain scary simple as that. It's the main reason why she stays away from him. Well, as much as she can anyway.

Super Macho Man!!! 🕶️:

She does NOT like how douchy he is. Like, at all. Just cause hes famous doesn't mean you can push another around like some dog toy. They argue on social media lol.

Mr Sandman ⏳:

One word, 2 vowels. Scary. I think that sums it up.

EXTRA CHARACTERS!!!

Doc Louis 🚲:

Who? All she knows is that he trains Mac..seems like a cool fellow to talk with.

Carmen 🌺:

The both of them are like, the bestest friends ever!! They go on girls trips every weekend and party together. She feels comfortable enough to actually vent to her about issues as well, which is pretty nice considering how closed off Tide is. She also might have a little.. affection towards her.

The Ref 🎤:

Appreciates how he has to deal with crazed fools all the time. I'm not looking at anyone, I swear! (🍀)

I just got 10 years taken off of my lifespan doing this PLEASE LIKE THIS PLEASE!!!!!!!! AHHHHH

also if you guys want you can link your ocs and i can make some interaction chart thingy for them too lol, lmk what u think 😆