#I just wanted to draw him in a steampunk outfit and things got out of hand

[blazingjackdaw]

Godot goes back in time just to mess with Phoenix’s ancestor and make his stay in London even worse than it already is <3

[battery-forgot]

Now, I come mid-week to give you all of my DSMP/MCYT headcanons because I have many

Don’t mind if these are repeated, misspelt, or has no logic, it is block game things and I am not checking over them-- and some will be organized, and some will be random, some might not have a Enter space because these are all ctrl c + ctrl v’ed from a Discord server I am in :]

Skeppy headcanons: Skeppy is 4 billion years old as scientists have thought that is how long ores and diamonds existed for

Skeppy's species is pretty rare

Every diamond that is broken or damaged causes Skeppy to feel a physical pain in his body

His species has lamp tail as they don't have night vision, some of them also have tiny wings that aren't usable, though they can kinda glide short distances with them

Because of his small height, he has taught himself magic to be able to change size, it can hurt him if he goes taller than 5'3, but he is able to get to Foolish's height if he tried

Sometimes random crystals grow on Skeppy's face, though they look different from normal crystals and can be used for things like explosives, though he doesn't know about it

Techno has seen Kristen but doesn't remember it well, though Kristen gave him his crown as a gift

Techno has a collection of skull masks that he has worn, he wears the skulls because of nostalgia now but he used to wear them because he thought they were cool and made him look threatening

Technoblade, Skeppy, Sam, Ranboo, Michael(the son- not Michaelmcchill), Phil, Bad, and some others really like shiny and golden objects

DreamSMP theme/"timeline" is kind of like a steampunk like thing

Drista is DreamXD's sister and DristaXD is Dream's "sister", though they aren't really siblings as they are robots

Drista and DreamXD are clones of DristaXD and Dream, though they actually look nothing alike

Callahan is a mute mini-god that everyone knows exists but doesn't really understand they are a mini-god. They kind of just chill and do what people ask them to do

Phil: Phil is more into traveling than anything else

Though he doesn't mind being a father figure, he doesn't think he is a good one especially after he killed Wilbur

He is able to turn into the size of a crow, though since his wings are now unusable, he doesn't do it as often as it is basically useless

Phil sometimes takes bird baths, though I guess they are always called that-

He has bird legs/talons,but they aren’t fully noticeable

joke headcanon I thought of is that Phil's handwriting is chicken-scratch because he is half-crow

Phil has really good memory, as a crow would

-DreamXD is actually pretty weak in powers, but he acts like he is the strongest person in the server

-Tommy's eye is just completely gone from when Dream killed him, but he covers it with an eyepatch

-Tubbo talks about things to Ranboo thinking he'll forget them, but some stories Ranboo remembers but doesn't speak about it because he doesn't want to make Tubbo worry too much

-Philza wasn't willing to kill Wilbur so Wilbur forced Phil by grabbing his arm and impaling himself

-Dream and Techno sometimes share stories about having ADHD

-Phil didn't really know about Fundy, he knew he existed but had no idea to how he acted, looked, or his actual name

-Wilbur had a letter written to Fundy about how he was sorry for what he was gonna do during November 16th, but the withers blew it up before Fundy knew about it

-Fundy doesn't let anyone hold his hand because it makes him remember the past where he would hold Wilbur's hand a lot

-Change of headcanons: Schlatt and Puffy are cousins, Tubbo was just a random kid that would follow Schlatt for hours a day, waiting for him to acknowledge him

-Dream jumps into the lava in the prison as it reminds him of Sapnap

-Bad was uncomfortable when Sapnap married Big Q and Karl because he went on a date with Quackity before but he still supported them (Yes I know Big Q basically had a divorce with Sap and Karl--)

-Skeppy knows a lot about other's pasts because of how old he is, even traumatizing facts

-Skeppy has a fear of fire (Pyrophobia) and he is kind of scared of Sapnap

-Dream used the revivebook on the cat Tommy killed, but Sam killed it thinking Dream would use the cat against Sam to escape quicker in the future

-Dream doesn't *fully* know why he is in prison, ever since Tommy and Tubbo killed him, a wire/chip broke in his body which made him forget a lot of things. Dream does get told what he had done a lot, but it makes him almost have a panic attack because he thought he was a pretty good person

-Ghostbur is Callahan, they were commanded by DreamXD to become Ghostbur so that everyone could feel like he was still there (Callahan can change who they are completely, but they don't actually know how they acted when as Ghostbur, though that doesn't mean he didn't know what happened, when Dream killed/revived Ghostbur, Callahan got to see what it felt like to die for the first time)

-Fundy has the habit of picking up things and using them at some sort of fidget (examples: knives, leaves, grass, wood, pencils, berry stems, etc.

-Ranboo will be writing/saying something about someone and use pronouns instead of their name or just with the person's name (example: "Puffy she/her was--" or "he/him writing down things") [Basically canon-]

-Tubbo used to headbutt people but stopped after around 2 years because he kept hurting people

-Phil used to squawk randomly when he was a kid, but he mainly just squawks when hiccuping now

-Even though Bad used to get really nervous picking people up because he was afraid he was gonna drop and kill them, he now just picks up everyone randomly... except Foolish and Ranboo

-Foolish is able to shrink to around 7ft, and unless he is building a big build, he will shrink so he can get around easier

-Because Ranboo is only half enderman, he isn't the full height of an enderman (He is only 8'5)

-If someone asks Charlie about his pronouns, out of confusion, he just responds with "Bones!" which sometimes leads Las Nevadas members (or just anyone really) calling him by He/it/Bones

-When Bad was being controlled by the egg, it made him get even more flashbacks about how his species was supposed to act which would end up with him panicking because that isn't who he wants to be (bonus: The more a member infected by the egg would panic, the more the egg would be able to take over the person because they can't focus)

-Kristin has taught Phil how to do makeup in their free-time of hanging out

-Kristin is insanely tall, if she shrinks then she turns more transparent, so she ends up looking more like a ghost when at average height

-Skeppy can't cry, though he still can feel sad

-Bad and Eret talk to eachother quite a lot

-When Tubbo was around 11-14, he would make redstone contraptions, though he doesn't remember how to make most of them now

Ranboo doesn't like photoshoots because he feels like everyone is staring at him, though this does mean he just doesn't have a passport photo, his alternative was to draw what he looked like on the passport but they didn't allow it, as well as Ranboo doesn't really remember what he looks like anyway because they don't like looking in mirrors--

I think this is half-canon but another headcanon is where every SMP is just an island far away from others. In this case, Hermitcraft, 30 day SMP, and other SMPs are all linked up, as for people who are in multiple SMPs, they travel around by boat for awhile, now, the thing I've just not figured out is how tf their look magically changes-like- outfit is decently obvious-- but do they magically transform like an anime girl? Idk- 

Skeppy's voice randomly glitches out, is there an actual reason for this? No.

Quackity’s outfit is similar to Sub Urban’s (In Freak)

Skeppy acts as if he is royalty, he doesn't act rude or demanding unless joking- but he does act as if he is the superior person-

-Skeppy and Slime are the only "people" that don't have steampunk styled clothing because of how old they are

-Skeppy's hair grows insanely quickly and no one knows why, he honestly hates it

-Most of Skeppy's outfits have been made by Bad or Puffy

-Skeppy knows DreamXD as if he is a brother, but he despises him because of something that has happened around 3,000 years ago

-Skeppy has a lot of different shades in their hair on the "inside"(like- the side where his neck is is what I mean, I don't remember if it has a name or not-)

-Like I've said before, Skeppy's eyes are crystallized, but they are somewhat transparent, not enough to where you'd be able to see the inside of his head, but they are still transparent

-In the past, Skeppy didn't like their name which is why they called himself "Skeppy"

-He has an attachment to caves

-When Skeppy was a kid, they had the dream of him filling cave walls with houses of their own

-Skeppy goes by it/they/he

-Skeppy joke flirts with Bad all the time to confuse everyone, Bad doesn't like it because then everyone thinks they are dating which makes him feel a little uncomfortable

-Out of boredom, in the past, Skeppy would climb on the roofs of caves, hang upside down, and try and sleep like a bat

-They have no blood in his body, it is literally just a diamond covered with a thin layer of skin and hair

-Skeppy gets stressed out easily when it comes to learning because it just reminds him of everything he had to get used to as the billion of years he lived went by

-Skeppy used to not be allowed out into the open world, the first time it experienced going outside was when it was 2 billion years old

-Skeppy has accidentally caught things on fire during the day because of the reflecting of the sun, but even then, they are nocturnal so they don't really have to worry about it

-Wilbur adapted to hanging out with Sally in the water, he has some gills, but he can only breathe underwater for a bit longer with them

-Skeppy always has the equivalent of Diamond (armor) except when he was infected by the egg, he was equivalent to the strength of a Ruby

-Infected Skeppy has a redstone glow when touched, so when hugged(or hive fived- or- yeah you get the point), he would give a subtle glow around him until let go

-The Eggpire still can be controlled, but they are able to control it unless angered/upset

-Skeppy was 6ft when infected, now he is 3′9 un-infected

-At this point, Dream likes the prison because he sometimes feels safe there, like no one can hurt him

-DristaXD is more of a ghost robot than an actual robot

-DristaXD's hobby is murdering people and has basically been in some sort of jail before, she has broken chains around their ankles and hands, it seems to have been made of a really strong material as wel

-Sapnap used to have fire wings, but when he had to get extinguished, they disappeared, they are still there, they just aren't visible until dunked in lava and Sapnap can't use them anymore

-Infected Bad still took care of Sapnap, but Sapnap never cared

-Sapnap takes the name "lava cake" too seriously... though he thinks the literal lava cakes he makes taste good

-Puffy's hair has been dyed blue by Ghostbur before because he wanted people to remember Friend if they ever disappeared

-Going with my Ghostbur as Callahan hc, when Ghostbur was killed, Callahan kind of glitched between realities and so Ghostburs body glitched from Callahan's body and Ghostbur's then just disappeared. Callahan is still alive but they randomly glitch into different realities, he has glitched into places Karl has gone, including The Inbetween.

-When Ghostbur was glitching back into Callahan after killed, it shocked and concerned Dream

There you go :]

[kazoosandfannypacks]

1, 4, 8, 9 and 14 for asks!!

(Okay sorry this is very rambly)

1. what’s your aesthetic?

Oh, darling, YES! Daisies and stars and piracy is a way to put it? I've got this kind of soft pastel daisies and hedgehogs and ukuleles and campers and punchbugs and fireflies and twinkle lights and dandelions vibe but then I also recently have really liked the stars and space and galaxy and flannels and scrunchies and star wars and steampunk vibe and then I also recently have enjoyed the pirates and flowy coats and swords and boats and sails and rope and unnecessarily extra outfits and treasure and romance and old papers and maps and a thirst for adventure aesthetic? Ik that's a lot and those highly contrast. It's a vibe tho, ig. Here's some snippets of aesthetics of mine I guess?

Sources: Inspirobot·my edit·my design

bogkeep on tumblr·my edit and photos·my edit

my edit and mostly my photos·my edit·my edit

4. what’s the closest you’ve come to dying?

Um. Idk? When I was a kid I certainly thought I was gonna die that one time when I was swimming but I can't swim? And I think my sister pulled me out of the way of a car once? And then I suppose I'm pretty close to death when I zipline or do climbing wall at camp and am 40 feet in the air, but even then I have a harness.... WAIT I GOT IT!

One time at school a group of us all decided to go get coffee at, like, 7:45am. My friend and I couldn't drive, so we got a ride from my friend, we'll call him Jerry. Now, Jerry is notorious for waking up five minutes before our eight am class and getting there right on time for it and being tired all the time, but we didn't think much of it. He got there right at 7:45 when we all met up to head out, we got in the car with Jerry, and drove down to the coffee shop. It wasn't very far, but I think both me and my friend knew that Jerry was so tired he was practically already asleep. I wouldn't say that it felt very near-death at the time, but we were the last ones to the coffee shop and the barista could tell Jerry was tired just by looking at him and made his coffee first, despite that he ordered third to last, because he looked like he needed it and that was when my friend and I looked at each other like "dude, we almost died."

8. describe your taste in music?

If it slaps, it slaps! I listen to musicals a lot, and disney movie and show soundtracks *cough cough, tangled*, and christmas music, and christian music (usually small bands that I've seen in person in some way) and also a few songs I'll hear at work or from friends and be like "oh that's a vibe, I like that." Idk if I have a distinct style though, but I definitley like listening to poppy music that feels fun and bouncy, and/or songs that have really deep lyrics or tell a story that I connect with. I find myself listening to a lot of those videos you can find on yt of ben fankhauser or jeremy jordan singing, and I think my favorite song ever is "who I'd be" from shrek the musical. Ik that's a lot I just can't define my tastes idk.

9. who do you love the most in this world?

My little brother! He means the world to me and whenever I'm away from home, he's the one I miss the most <3

14. describe your tattoos/ones you want to have?

Okay so I don't have any tattoos, but I know what I would get! I like the idea of a feather on my ankle- I draw feathers on myself a lot, because sometimes I'll accidentally just draw a line on myself and then make it look intentional by turning it into a feather. I also draw a flower very frequently that would be cool there! I'm most likely to get an arrow on my wrist, because I like the idea that some things have the most value when you let go, but at the same time wrists hurt for tattoos. I also like stars and think they'd be a cool tattoo, but idk where. The final tatoo idea I have for myself is the quote "if it can be broken, it means it still works" from once upon a time because I love it. I write that one on my arm a lot, because it means so much to me, and it always makes me smile when I see it written there!

Thanks for the asks, teacup!

[fruitysoupy]

Kelliott thoughts

Just some little things from my favorite kelliott AU I talked to @tthankstoyou about 💖✨

They met after the breakup in season 4. Instead of going back home to the loft, Kurt walked off to get away from the situation and clear his head. In the process he got into a random subway and ended up completely lost. Elliott is at the same station and asks him what's wrong, they get talking and become friends.

Turns out Elliott just broke up with his ex too, so they bond over that and cheesecake at a 24/7 place

They don't get together as a couple for a long time, neither of them wants the other to be a rebound

Instead they're just good friends, best friends actually

They come up with the band idea together and go out to the music store regularly

One time Elliott picked Kurt up from Vogue and everyone thought he was Kurt's boyfriend. People would look him up and down, then look at Kurt and give an approving nod

They'd both try and clear up the confusion but it was no use

They first kiss one the roof at a New Year's Eve party Kurt was invited to (by Isabelle) and brought Elliott as a plus one

It's very cute and romantic, Elliott kisses him and then just stares

"... I was expecting the fireworks to start going off at this point."

Kurt's a little confused, then smiles. "Guess we'll have to try again"

And during one of those kisses the fireworks finally go off

After that whenever Kurt brings Elliott to Vogue events as his plus one he proudly introduces him as his lovely boyfriend

They're a very sweet couple, they spend a lot of time together but they also know to keep their own seperate spaces so as to not suffocate each other

Elliott has his own friend group away from Kurt and vice versa. It's not like their friends don't like the other, they just don't hang out as often

Even before they started dating the two always came to the other's performances to support them

Elliott was in a lot of plays and musicals at NYU

They have an inside joke of bragging to each other about the other

"My boyfriend got the lead in last year's show.", "well my boyfriend performed at the winter showcase.", "my boyfriend-" and so on

They watch shows like project runway and drag race together, critiquing everyones looks (as in outfits and fashion, not faces that's mean)

Since they both like to design they sometimes design little things or whole outfits for the other

They go to pride every year and planning outfits is always an event. It takes weeks of brainstorming and designing and prototyping, because they theme their outfits every year and they never wear their parade outfits to the parties following

They're probably known by first name at all fabric shops around, let's be real

One year they designed each other's outfits instead of their own. It was fun but took longer, so they're sticking to making their own (for Pride at least)

They cook and bake together, always trying out new recipes

They go vegan for like a month or two, decide they cannot go without honey and milk and god vegan cheesecake just isn't the same, and go back to mostly vegetarian

I say mostly because they still eat fish

They always come across new cafés and restaurants they simply have to check out. Lots of date nights!

They're very lighthearted, they think of the other as both their best friend and their boyfriend. Not everything has to be romantic, they can just hangout like they did before

They move in with each other for the first time after they both graduated from college and found work

They've had trial runs before which worked out well, they just didn't want to move together before graduation as to not inconvenience the other (since one is always closer to one college than the other, meaning one of their ways to school would get significantly longer)

They're boyfriends for a long time before either of them takes the next step

I'm talking like five years of just being happy boyfriends

One day Elliott decides to buy a ring for Kurt. It just sits hidden in a drawer for quite some time until Elliott finally feels like they're both ready

They plan a little date night together, go out for dinner, come home to watch a movie in comfy clothes, that's when Elliott decides to pop the question

Kurt just stares at him for a few seconds, then in a playfully annoyed tone goes "I can't believe you beat me to it." and retrieves his own ring box from under the pillow next to him

They both have a good laugh, say yes to each other and both wear their ring

Long engagement, they take their time planning the wedding together, making sure it doesn't interfere with either of their schedules (Kurt doing theatre, Elliott doing costume design)

Their wedding is absolutely beautiful, @tthankstoyou made a pinterest board for it, and here's a drawing of them at the wedding

It's very much like both of them. Lots of copper and steampunk esque (but not over the top, very classy) influences from Elliott, and lots of traditional things with an unconventional unexpected twist from Kurt

It's a small private wedding with only their closest friends and family invited, but the part afterwards (reception??? Idk what it's called) is huge

Lots of Elliott's NYU and costume dep friends, Kurt's friends from Vogue and theatre, it's an event

That's all for now! I might make a post just about their wedding at some point ✨

[evilblot]

Hello friend! I need your opinion on a very serious matter: best Phantom Blot outfit? (or at least a top list in case you can't chose, which I deem likely)

Me, staring at the list I made a week ago still unsure it’s good enough:

Jokes and internal crisis aside, I had to basically plunge into my archives looking for any piece of clothing that tickled my interest and lemme tell you: it wasn’t an easy job, esp when it’s your pussy doing the thinking ashsajfjagjg. Anyway.

Full list under the cut, since it’s long af for I got no self control uwu

Leaving aside his iconic look because it feels like cheating and the times he's been shown half naked because,.,, well.., ya know skahkfah, here's my very own ᴍʏ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ꜱɴᴀᴄᴄ ᴄᴏᴍᴘɪʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ - clothing edition and I don't accept any criticism, only cash <3

Number 10. O‘ Macchianera’s costume, an early 1800s historical South Italian outfit from “Topolin Murat e i Misteri di Pompei”. Simple, clean and def flattering. What’s not to love?

Number 9. His super villain outfit from the “Ultraheroes saga”. I know I said I’d not include his usual costume but I do enjoy the little extras on this one. The cape is just *chef’s kiss* despite being a bit unpractical.

Number 8. Black Tunic’s actual clothes in “Topo Maltese - Una ballata del topo salato”. Not the cloak thing ofc, what’s underneath that since he really looks surprisingly good in pastel blues, not to mention I get to see some ankle there aksnfafga.

Number 7. That nice nautical attire he got in “Macchia Nera e la vacanza a scacchi”. Love it, esp the checkered pants.

Number 6. Whatever steampunk Victorian combo he's wearing in the “Il giro dei mondi in 80 giorni (siderali)”. Not to mention he looks grittier than the usual with that 5 o’clock shadow beard he got and I’m *lip-biting emoji*.

Number 5. The u hM,.., the hh h.,. tH A t! Hawaiian pink shirt from “Topolino e il vortice di luce”. It’s not about the shirt itself but rather because Pastrovicchio, sir, this is both a crime against fashion and my already flawed self-control, help girl afhfafkaj.

Number 4.  The smart casual look from “Macchia Nera e il buon vicinato”.  Also, I'd like to publicly thank Mr. Cavazzano for each and every time he has shown PB with his sleeves rolled up because it makes me go AWOOGA without fail sksksk.

Number 2. Those grey and purple gessati from “Pippo Reporter”. Classy stylish bad bitch makes me yearning to do unspeakable things to him on and behind his nice office desk <3.

Number 3. The tucked-in white rugby shirt with black joggers from “Topolino e il Doppio Segreto di Macchia Nera”. Basically every time he wears any piece of white clothing it just sends me, also this story has a special place in my cold shriveled heart uwu.

Number 1. The iconic black submarine jumper from “Darkenblot”. Such flattering minimalism. Flawless. Amazing Thottilicious. Not a casualty it's the outfit I always draw him with for it awakens something in me I can't yet describe but god it makes me go GONGAGA every damn time asmdahsjkfgag.

Also, have an extra list because I’m weak to men in armor and I'm even weaker when it's Macchia 🙈😩💦

Number 5. The Gran-Khan-Gnar costume from “Star Top”. I like the uhh,,. cloak’s color, that uh.. sort of sci-fi anatomical cuirass and the furry neck warmer..? I don’t know guys, it doesn’t really spark with joy but I didn’t want to ignore it either so it’s here I guess 🤷‍♀️

Number 4. The Meteor Master suit of armor from “Donald Quest”. It’s tacky and over the top, but gold suits him and the spike game going on is too strong to ignore. Also it got that fantasy Viking vibes that I simply cannot resist to <3c.

Number 3. The black Roman centurion lorica from “Topolinix”. HE’S SHOWING SOME SKIN AND I’M LOOKING DIRECTLY AT IT 👀👀👀

Number 2. The exoskeleton he wears in the “Darkenblot saga”. If you thought he just got buff like that, then sorry but you have to face the truth and suffer with me :’).

Number 1. His living shadow form in the “Wizards of Mickey” saga. Technically it isn't really an armor, but have you seen the absolute edge? These abs? Pure monsterfucker bait and I'm here for it uwu.

BTW as y’all may have noticed, I didn’t translate the titles because today I woke up and chose violence against americentrism, but I still put the INDUCKS link so y’all can check the stories out for I am not a complete bastard ✌

Anyways, I hope my little self-indulgent gush about my man’s fashion choices (or lack of lmao) has quenched your curiosity and again tènkius so much for your ask! 🖤🖤

[howlingowl-wra]

What has been your favorite event that you've held there, at the Owl? Any particularly memorable ones?

Tanner: "I am fond of the poetry nights in general, but I have also only been around for a little while as yet. And I am, as I am sure certain people would put it, boring. But boring is nice sometimes, yes?"

Aubrey: "So, uh. I joined in like late November last year? So I don't really got a huge pool to draw on, so like, pardon me if people got cooler stories, but not gonna lie, the Hookah night was pretty great. My boyfriend, my precious, sweet little Ara was the brains behind that one, and I was so proud to see him sneaking out of his shell for just a lil bit. I think it went really well, we had a great amount of attendees, and I got to spend the evening with Miss Ellaneous who is always a riot. She's Othiriel's mana fiend and my booze buddy now. 10 outta 10, would do again. Even if, uh.... it means I end up filling a room with pancakes again the next morning, whoops!"

Ophene: “Steampunk night has my favourite event to date by and large because I do not remember most of it, which has historically been indicative of a great night. Outfits were excellent, absinthe was a feature on the menu, and I woke up the next morning engaged. Isn’t that wild?”

Saeil: "Hmm, Owl Fest.  Particularly the first Owl Fest since the second one, I was only back from my sabbatical a few days before it began.  So I didn't really get to help much with it and didn't really feel too much like a host for it. But the first one and I expect the one this year, it feels like a big payoff for all of the work over the year.  It's our anniversary event so it's the biggest event of the year for us. It takes a lot to put together but it just... ends up being one of those things where I let myself feel proud.  Hoping to have the one this year be the best yet."

Ara: "Oh, u-um... is it-is it bragging to say Hookah Night? I-I suppose maybe it is but um... I-I like that one or um... or Poetry Nights.  They-they are more my speed..."

Kon: “Honestly, the Wicked Rave was one of the raves that I look back on fondly. Maybe it was because it was my first since joining the Owls, times were simpler then and the warmth, acceptance and air I felt that night fed my soul better than any other high I'd ever known sober. A strange thing to say for me but it's true, I won't forget how warm and welcoming all were to us that night, to me especially. Perhaps it was only because what Talthorn and I brought to the energy of that rave was something so new that we drew others in. I can't forget how amazing that event was for us, for me.  The Myths and Legends Rave came close second, who DOESNT want to represent such a legend as we chose. And it was the first I didn't have to work since joining the Owls so I did let loose that night and regretted nothing. There is just nothing like good energy waves, heavy beats and letting your soul dance free!”

@safrona-shadowsun 

[askzloyxp]

I like the steampunk-ish feel of your outfit, how did you come up with it?

Oh, my current pastel-ish faux-vistorian look is a story of plenty a plagiarisms and developments! Follow along with me down the memory lane of my look throughout the years!

When I first gotten skin capabilities I would just wear a regular zombie skin from minecraft because you know lazy. It’s only after a year or so I started tweaking it to more liking, and first thing I added was just a bandaid around the top of the head and maybe a slightly different shirt. But by the time I got to Youtubing I decided to spice it all up because I was super into steampunk aesthetic even though I was never really good at it. Naturally, as a creatively gifted individual, first thing I did when confronted with a task of creating my identity, is steal from someone. I just googled “stempunk minecraft skin, grabbed the Steampunk Doctor skin from planetminecraft and replaced human bits with zombie ones

That’s why you can see a whole lot of look alikes such as SystemZee and other “human zloys” - this is an incredibly common skin and I have no idea how I am not being called out on it like ever. You’ll also notice that my original goggles were much more humble than the Steampunk Doctor ones. But if you think they’re just me trying to draw my own to stand out - WRONG AGAIN! Even that bit of black untextured band I couldn’t create myself. Instead I copied them from this skin known as “Steampunk engineer”

Despite my humorous tone, I want to emphasise: This is not something I am proud of. Heck, I should be kinda lynched for this. Not because of “skin stealing” - that’s something debatable and stuff, but more because I unrightfully took someone else’s hard work, modified it slightly (and frankly poorly), and then tried to make into significant part of my branding. And make no mistake - I knew what I was doing back then. That’s why I modified the original skin at all - trying to make it my own. Now, there’s a discussion there to be had about youtubers using common skins for their mc content - frankly, it’s something incredibly silly to do and if you’re thinking about starting a channel based around minecraft least you can do to help your branding is make or commission a unique skin that will be easily recognizeable as your self - which is why I modified the Steampunk Doctor one - but even using an already existing one as anything other than inspiration is gonna be a problem. like, Etho still using a Kakashi skin after all these years makes sense because at this point it’s just what people are used to, but him not changing it over the years despite his channel obviously outgrowing his ambitions is hilarious to me. Like, at no point did it occur to him “hey, I might NOT want to use a copyrighted character as a vital part of my branding”. 

Anyway, luckily, my own story of plagiarism doesn’t stop there! You will notice, that my current skin is much different from the one from back then. here’s a nifty side-by-side:

You’ll notice, it’s much nicer, much more pastel, and overall looks like it was maid by a human who has eyes. It also keeps the original’s aesthetic, in many places being almost direct trace, but adds a bit of unique character too - for examplle the vest is now not a vest but a torn coat cape thing, making this much more piraty. Admittedly, it’s still super close to the original, but at least it’s not one you will randomly see SystemZee wearing. And if you have any good will left for me, this is where you’ll think that I at least paid for this one, but NOPE! This skin was made for me by one of my russian fans - DenisBioFan, whose name I because of it remember by heart. And it was just given to me for free. So in a way, I am still stealing from people, just less directly, I suppose.

And if you think I stopped doing this garbage, you will be wrong(ish). Whenever I need to make a custom skin nowadays, I still just google something up and adjust, which is kinda sad comnsidering I am not that terrible at making my own stuff. At least those skins only show up every now and again in the videos. I really owe it to myself to just take some time and assemble a full wardrobe of custom made skins that I can pick and choose from. It’s just producing mc let’splays on a regular is basically Short Notice Central, and you never know what you gonna need untill you need it.

Anyway, thanks for reading my rant about how I am a terrible person. I’ll try to do better, promise

[nonexistent-anime-echo]

Steampunkshipping AU Info

**First off, I’m asking for better names for this AU. I don’t want to just call it the Steampunkshipping AU because Steampunk is a ship and I don’t want it to be the name of an AU too. I’m asking for suggestions! I’m having a lot of fun developing this though. I was thinking about making Possession and Skybound happen, but I think it wouldn’t have really done well in the AU. Story should be out soon!**

-ToE, Possession, and Skybound never happened. Seasons 1-3 did, as well as 7 up to the beginning of the Fire Chapter. So basically seasons 7-10 happened, plus the first four or five episodes of the Fire Chapter. Jay never released Aspheera (because Echo was with them and cautioned him and Nya not to open the tomb) so the rest of season 11 didn’t happen.

-Echo was brought to Ninjago when Julien went with the ninja and Wu

-Echo slowly started developing feelings for Jay, and Jay did the same with Echo

-Zane is best overprotective big brother trust me he’s way protective of Echo

-Since ToE didn't happen, Zane rebuilt himself and immediately went back to the team

-Although not considered a ninja, Echo helps out in any way he can. Jay made him an ivory ninja suit with Nya's help.

-Echo got a new body (still made of copper) from Jay. Cyrus helped him out a bit, since Jay had a hard time making a body. 

-Echo still has the puppet-like mouth like he did originally. This was requested by him so he looked less like Zane and more like himself. 

-Occasionally Pixal freaks out over how cute Echo is. This makes Zane jealous, of course.

-Usually, Echo's in a hoodie and joggers. His hoodie is the same color as his ninja outfit, and his joggers are dark gray/black. With these he wears brown ankle boots. He also has blue and white pajamas. (I was going to post a reference with Echo’s clothing designs on it but I gave up, I’m not really happy with how it turned out because I don’t usually draw humans)

-Although he doesn't need to, Echo likes to sleep. He almost always shares a bed with Jay.

-The ships of Kai, Zane, Cole, and Nya can vary. Although the story I’m writing that goes with this AU has Oppo in it, you don’t have to write/draw Zane and Kai as a ship if you write/draw them. For example, maybe you want Kai to be with Cole and Nya to be with Zane. This is perfectly fine, I don’t mind. I mainly used Oppo as a filler ship. The only ship that’s I guess “canon” to this AU is Steampunk.

-Echo matured as he spent more and more time with the ninja. He was able to figure out what their jokes meant when they were made, and he also had internet access. One thing led to another, and the only one who knows that he’s not as innocent as people think is Jay. Kai, though, is suspicious of how innocent Echo acts. He’s just suspicious, he doesn’t know anything 

[galaxyna]

Sooooooooooo, here’s a Victorian spoon for y’alls entertainment! Mumbo Jumbo the red stone brain of the Architechs will walk the Victorian catwalk up next!

So I kinda wanna apologize? but at the same time nah cuz like why? I was actually planning to do a second drawing with him in a long top coat as his complete suit, but I got really lazy and art block is a thing that exists so I just finished this drawing that showcases my favorite part~ the little arm belt thingies! I really like them soooo I’m putting them in one of my top favorite hermits :v plus it fits the aesthetic™️

Now let’s be serious (lol) and talk about my inspiration for this outfit! The idea came completely out of me wanting to use the arm belts on Mumbo and those kinda remind me of steampunk bartenders for some reason, so I went ahead and searched steampunk outfits and took some inspiration out of the different vests and coats and decided that as I didn’t had any Hermit with a long coat and it would suit very well the long tail of the vest I would give it to Mumbo! Oh! And I know the Murder Mystery fanfic does say that Mumbo is pretty much dressed in his same outfit as ever but drawing normal tuxedos is boring sooooooo I took a few creative liberties XD

Between those creativities is making a part of his outfit wine red but I am very unsure of what would be, like I’m leaning that it is the vest but then that would mean the coat, pants and tie would have to be black so there is a balance and idk I kinda want the tie to be black, but then while searching inspiration I saw a guy dressed in a wine Red button up with a black tie and a black vest but then it would be too dark and idk, inspiration was short again because of the slight art block I’m going through (slight because I can still draw my chibi-esque style but not my more serious style) so yeah, this design is probably going to change when I do the final illustration soooooooooo

Yeah that’s all for today XD as always I’ll leave the link to the fanfic a Murder Mystery written by @ironngot who is very wholesome and adorable because of the tags they always leave in their reblogs owo, and as always take care~

[qwertythepopstarian08]

JSAB Steampunk AU Fanfic- That’s Not Your Brother

A gift fic for @just-steams-and-shapes .

Both of the muns of that blog pretty much shattered my heart with angst, so I decided to return the favor. 

Also, Happy Fresh Friday!

((Once again, I must say that Feeling Blue is on temporary hiatus. I know how I want the story to end, and I WILL FINISH EVENTUALLY, but at the moment, I have no motivation to continue the story... sorry for the wait.))

Description: Belle comes home to find a Deceora in place of her brother. However, it doesn’t want to hurt her, and it seems oddly familiar...

Warnings for SLIGHT BODY HORROR and canon-typical violence.

Luce’s arm hurt.

It’d been aching all day, from his elbow to his wrist, ever since that accursed Deceora sunk its fangs into him the night before. It’d managed to get in through the window, out for blood and indiscriminately raiding houses. Judging by the amount of carnage done to the foliage outside, it’d run amok for awhile, although no other shapes had been harmed, at least not as much as him.

It’d managed to tear into his arm with its fangs before he managed to subdue it. A few swipes and a devastating bite to the wrist left him reeling, and even now, hours later and running on painkillers, he was feeling the effects.

He’d tried bandaging it, but eventually, the adhesives had just caused more irritation, and the wound needed to breathe, lest it get infected. So the most damaged areas were in full view, looking like shattered glass sticking out of his arm, an obvious allure for a nosy older sister.

He hissed under his breath as Belle prodded at his forearm, looking up to see her sticking her tongue out. She had her lucky wrench in hand, and her outfit was stained with motor oil. She’d dragged herself away from her work to mess with him. How sweet.

“That’s gonna leave a gnarly scar, bro.” She blew a strand of hair out of her face, her purple eyes narrowing. “Next time, just call me for help… facin’ a Deceora’s no walk in the park…”

Luce recoiled, drawing his arm back as his sister reached to poke at it again. His horns lowered, the heart rate monitor in place of his eye starting to quicken in pace, showing his annoyance.

“I shattered it, didn’t I?” He reached for a pen, hoping that he could at least distract himself by drawing up some blueprints; he was thinking of weapons, feeling quite destructive at the moment. “Having an arm cannon comes in handy…” He scowled when he heard Belle chuckle, adding as an afterthought, “No pun intended.”

Belle shot back, “Whatever you say, dork.”

All she got in response was a flustered grumble. Luce’s voice sounded a bit shriller than usual, but Belle amounted that to his irritation, not to mention the pain he was in.

The purple cyclops rolled her eye, one of her cybernetic arms reaching up to brush her hair out of her face again. It was quite messy, and a plain ponytail wasn’t cutting it anymore… she didn’t care much about fashion, but as an inventor who worked around gears and moving parts, she couldn’t afford to risk getting her hair caught.

“Y’know what… I think I’ll go out to town… buy some hair products.” She ran a hand through the purple locks, huffing. “Something’s gotta tame the beast.”

She stood, folding her main pair of arms. Luce didn’t look up at her, his heart monitor slowing to a steady, calm beat as he fell back into focus with his work. A twinge of annoyance hit Belle’s core, but it was quickly encompassed as she watched her brother sketch, a small part of herself marvelling at his intuitive ability.

He was only twelve, nearing thirteen in the coming months. It was a wonder that a kid his age knew how to competently work some of the machinery he lived around, let alone create blueprints for it.

He had to learn quickly, though… without parents to properly teach him, the two of them had picked up quite a few skills just to survive...

Shaking her head to rid herself of the thought, Belle started towards the door, momentarily pausing to run through her list of errands. She glanced over her shoulder, looking over Luce, who was too absorbed in his sketching to pay her much mind.

For once, her schedule was clear, aside from her personal quest. She’d be home soon, and she doubted Luce could get himself into any trouble like this… the likelihood of a second Deceora attack was slim, anyway.

“I’ll be back in a minute, Luce,” she called. She added with a chuckle, “Don’t get yourself shattered.”

He waved halfheartedly, one of his horns flicking up in acknowledgement. He really seemed to be absorbed in his work. Rolling her eye once more, Belle departed, trusting that her brother would be safe…

~~~

~~~

As the minutes passed, Luce found it progressively harder to focus. The once minor stinging in his arm had developed into shooting, burning pain, which pulsed with his heartbeat, as if his veins were pumping acid instead of blood.

He forced himself to ignore it, at least for a while. He was being productive this way, having churned out five whole blueprints in the hour. They were a bit messy, given the pain in his arm, but he was proud of himself, having finally found a way to effectively distract himself.

However, as the time ticked past, the minutes rolling into hours… the pain had become pure agony, and he finally tore his eyes away from the paper to glance at his arm.

He was willing to bet that it’d started bleeding again, given how high his blood pressure was. His nerves were shot, and as his gaze darted from the blueprints to his forearm, he jolted in shock, catching a flash of greenish blue among the pink flesh.

“What… in Paradise?” He turned his arm around slowly, trying to see if the blighted color was a trick of the light. However, instead of going away, the hue only seemed to spread, forming in rough patches around the wounds. “What.”

Luce’s eyes glistened with a confused light, his horns drooping slightly as he stood, dropping his pencil.

“Where’s the mirror?” He paced almost aimlessly, beginning to feel a deep, paranoid fear. “Where’s the Treeangle-blighted mirror?!”

The lagoon tint had begun to infect more of his arm, spreading like a rash up to his shoulder. It burned, and Luce found himself scratching at the afflicted areas, becoming increasingly irritated as his mind buzzed with frantic thoughts.

His claws felt sharper than normal. He was unsteady on his feet… These seemingly minor realizations drilled themselves into his head, and he was unsure when he started to hyperventilate, his balance becoming skewed.

Luce staggered around the house, his mind reeling, each step sending a shockwave of pain through his form. He was terrified to look, but he had to see what was happening to him. He nearly tripped, locating a sizable mirror as he limped into the bathroom, looking himself over in the reflective glass.

His eyes widened, his heart rate nearly flatlining as he forced himself to stifle a shriek.

“Shards…” He hissed under his breath. His eye was flickering between a sickly lagoon and a frenetic pink. Luce choked, laughing nervously, “This is bad… this is real bad…”

He wanted to scream, but he was afraid of his own voice, unsure where his imagination ended and the real change began.

Luce backed away, trying to steady his breathing. He smiled, although an anxious ache made itself known in his core as he realized… how sharp his teeth looked.

“A’right… You’re fine,” he assured himself. “We’re good… everything’s okay…”

He winced, hearing a loud, resounding crack sound from within himself, nearly forcing him to his knees. His legs really, really hurt…  It was clear that he wouldn’t be standing upright for long…

Growling, he shook his head, returning his gaze to his reflection. In just a few minutes… he looked less like a shape and more like… a Deceora…

“You’re okay,” he repeated, snarling. His horns flicked backwards, a growl spilling from his maw as he shook his head, finding it progressively harder to focus. His heart rate quickened, the monitor over his bad eye starting to beep loudly as his core lurched. He ground out his mantra, forcing himself to stay awake, “Nothing. Is. Wrong.”

A sudden, acidic agony roared from the young shape’s core, and he heard himself shriek, his eyes going wide as he instinctively clutched at his chest. His cybernetic hand flew up to cover his mouth, and he shuddered, terrified.

He coughed violently, flinching as lagoon corruption came away on his hand. There was no denying it. That Deceora had cursed him as soon as it sunk its fangs into his arm. Belle was right; he never should have tried to handle things himself… he was just a little kid.

“E-e-everything…. Everything is… is f-fine…” He hugged himself, trying not to focus on what was happening. His voice was a whisper. Anything above a quiet rasp, and he’d be able to hear the growl in his tone. He wanted to tear the corruption out, but it’d already reached his core… all he could do was hope he could fight it off. “It’s…. O-o-o-okay… i-it’s okay…”

It was getting harder to speak… oh honey butter biscuits, his face was a Tree-forsaken muzzle.

“You… you’rrreeee….” He trailed off with a whimpering croon, shaking his head. “Hhh.. you’rreee… o-okayyy… Yo….Rrrr...o-kayyyyyy…”

Tears rolled down his face, and Luce gave one last, defeated scream, hoping dearly that someone, anyone would hear him. For all he knew, he’d lose his mind and hurt someone… if no one came to shatter him now…

But with his current luck… what were the odds of that?

~~~

~~~

Three hours later, the door creaked open. Belle peered inside, looking around in hopes of seeing her little brother waiting for her, as he normally did. A small part of her expected to see him still sitting at that desk, scribbling away at blueprints. Maybe he actually tried to build something for once and set the house on fire.

As she pictured the possible outcomes, she couldn’t help but grin, wondering what amusing predicament her baby brother could’ve gotten himself mixed up in today.

However, when she entered the house, she was greeted with complete, eerie silence. The lights were all out… the curtains were closed. Her smile dropped as soon as she saw the darkness, her greeting dying on her tongue as her eye darted around, trying to find a reason for the seemingly abandoned state of the house.

She hoped that Luce was merely asleep on the couch or something, that he’d decided to be responsible for once and turn out the lights when he left the room. The chances of that were slim to none, and Belle’s anxiety whispered in the back of her mind, sending her into an instant panic.

“Luce?” she called cautiously. She heard her own voice echo through the building, and when there was no answer, she found herself worrying even more. She walked towards the kitchen, concern riddling her features. “Luce? Where are ya, you little demon child?”

Not even his nickname stirred a response. Belle growled to herself, picking up her lucky wrench. If Luce was just tricking her, she’d clock him in the horns for it… and if he wasn’t, she had a feeling she’d have to fight someone.

He’d just been injured, and it was obvious that he was still in pain. If any rogue or feral shapes had broken in, he wouldn’t stand a chance... Belle started off towards the workshop, hissing under her breath.

“This better not be a prank…” As she inched towards the entrance, she heard a sudden crash, her eye lighting up in tentative hope. “I’m warning you…”

She weighed the odds. On one hand, that sound could’ve been Luce trying to hide, what with the little trouble-maker he was. She had poked fun at him earlier, and he was known for getting petty revenge. It wasn’t much of a stretch to say that he was planning to scare her, just to send her flying into a tizzy over nothing. He wasn’t evil by a longshot, despite Belle’s constant prodding, but he lived up to his nickname as the “demon child.”

Belle felt her smile threaten to return, but she shook her head.

Nonetheless, the other possibility send fear rushing through her, quickly eclipsing all humor. It was rare to see a Deceora this far away from the Corrosive Valley or the Badlands… the odds of it coming with a pack were slim, but it was still possible.

Shattering the first creature would just summon the pack, if they were in the area. And in his current state… Luce would’ve been instantly incapacitated… shattered. Belle steeled herself for what she might see, be it shards or her brother. She’d dealt with loss before, and while she never wanted to lose another loved one, she prepared herself for the worst.

“A’right… I’m givin’ ya five seconds to show yourself…” she yelled.

She heard the scrabbling of claws against tile, and she twitched, trying to restrain herself from charging. It was a Deceora alright.

“One… two… aw, blight it… FIVE!”

Belle let out a battle cry, rushing through the entrance in an attempt to startle the monster. Her eye was blurred from the tears that she’d been holding back, but she kept swinging, suddenly glad to have extra arms. If that thing tried to come at her from behind, she’d knock it silly.

She heard a gutteral shriek ring out as one of her fists met scales, and she reeled, her eye snapping open. The Deceora was quite small for its kind, looking pathetic compared to the monster that had attacked the night before. Perhaps the first creature had been its mother. Chances were, this small, unassuming monster had wandered to their home, searching for its fallen parent. It was too young to fight properly, but a single good swipe from those wicked claws could knock out any shape, even if the intent wasn’t to kill.

In any other occasion, Belle might’ve spared it, knowing what it was like to lose a parent, but now that it entered her home, now that it had possibly killed her brother, all mercy flew out the window.

She narrowed her eye, rage filling her heart. It was hard to focus on the thing, her gaze darting around in search of any sign of her brother. The Deceoras were merciless hunters. It was likely that, if he was in shards, they’d either been devoured or trambled, leaving no traces behind.

Even if this one was unwilling to fight, its instincts would have driven it to feed as soon as the blood was spilled. Luce was as good as dead.

“I know ya can’t understand me…” Belle snarled. She lowered her wrench towards the monster’s snout, her tone venomous. “So I’m giving you five seconds to clear out before I shatter you. Limb. By. Limb.”

It suddenly squeaked and reeled back, nearly tripping over its own legs. It was definitely young and probably hadn’t ventured into civilization before, unable to properly maneuver on a smooth, tiled surface.

It stumbled, the spikes around its head drooping as it stared up at her, almost sad. Belle knew better than to falter, her voice ringing out as a threatening yell as she grew more frantic.

“I don’t care that you’re a baby, I’ll shatter you like you did to my brother!”

At that, the Deceora seemed to understand, if only through the aggression in Belle’s tone. It backed away, drawing in on itself, a small, rumbling whimper echoing from its core. Belle had never seen a Deceora whimper, even when injured. They were natural killers, and they never showed weakness. However, this creature didn’t seem like it wanted to fight at all...even to defend itself… It was truly at her mercy.

She grinned, despite herself. A malicious, vindictive urge welled up in her heart, and she advanced, a wicked sneer spreading across her face. She raised the wrench again. While she was sure she had other, quicker means to dispose of this thing, she wanted to cause it just as much pain as it’d caused her brother. Slowly.

“You probably won’t even fight back, eh?” She chuckled as the monster suddenly squeaked, frantic. “Good. That makes it easier for me.”

She swung. Metal met bone as the wrench made contact with the Deceora’s plated back. It was sent flying, shards bursting from the impact as it hit a wall. It scrambled to stand, a constant, pitiful whimper pouring from its jaws. It refused to run, however, staring up at Belle with those melancholy, distressed eyes.

Belle approached it again, laughing almost madly.

“Not so tough now, huh?” She reveled in the fear that blossomed in the monster’s gaze as she held her makeshift weapon high, preparing to strike. “That’s what you get for SHATTERING MY BROTHER!”

This time, the wrench came down upon the monster’s back, near the base of its neck. It crumpled, a hissing screech ripping from its throat as it covered its head, panicking. Dusty shards sprayed from the bludgeon wound, and parts of its shell were dented and cracked.

Still, it refused to attack… it almost seemed to be pleading her to stop.

“Hhhh….” Its breaths were ragged with pain. It tried to make itself seem small, terrified. “Nnnooooo. Noooo… mrrrrrr….”

Belle relented. She could let it go with a warning, but it’d likely just return when it was old enough to fight. She raised her hand again, scowling.

The helpless Deceora cowered, shaking its head as if in disbelief. Startlingly, tears flowed from its eyes, and as it looked up at Belle, she thought she saw a flicker of pink in its foggy, soulless gaze.

She faltered, glancing at its arms. One of its forelegs was cracked rather severely, from the elbow to the wrist. Belle was sure she hadn’t hit it there. She’d only gotten two good swings, and both had cracked against its shell. That wound was strikingly familiar, looking quite recent...

Shaking her head, she prepared to land a final blow, tiring of toying with the monster. If it kept screaming, it’d alert the rest of the pack… and she’d learn just how threatening a group of protective monsters could be.

“Enough playin’ around…” She squeezed her eye shut. Something felt very wrong. “T-time to die…”

However, as she readied herself, she heard a frantic, hissing squeak that made her stop in her tracks.

The Deceora suddenly shrieked, shaking its head in a frenetic attempt to stop her. Its stubby tail was tucked between its legs in its fear, and its entire form was quivering.

“Nooo… mrrr….. No morrreee!”

Belle backed away, watching it. That was the most sentient display of fear she’d ever seen from a feral. She expected it to go down fighting, but in seconds, any fight that it may have put up dissolved into pathetic whimpers.

Its flailing, panicked state reminded her of a child’s tantrum, and the more it screamed, the less guttural its cries sounded.

“Mowww!” it cried. It let out a sharp exhale, shuddering. “Hhhhh…. hhhhuuurrrrt.”

“What?” she deadpanned. She glared down at the creature, waiting for some sort of response. It probably couldn’t comprehend speech, but she supposed that this particular Deceora had more than a few surprises up its sleeve, and perhaps sentience was one of them.

Its teary eyes glimmered with tentative hope as its attacker faltered. Squealing, it sat up on its haunches, wincing a few times as its cracked shell protested. It looked up at Belle, its eyes continuing to flicker with that too-familiar pink hue, which was slowly encompassing the lagoon shade.

It squeaked, trying to form words, “... E-Eeellllee….” It shook its head, trying again. Its maw clicked and rattled with the effort, the gaps between its fangs producing an odd, whistling sound. Its lack of intelligibility frustrated it, and it hissed, “Eeellee…….it meeee...”

Belle tilted her head, backing away. She cautiously placed her wrench down, folding her arms. Something about the sound the thing was making was unsettling, and she felt a paranoid, upsetting fear beginning to settle in her core. It was almost… dare she say...familiar.

“What… what are you trying to say?” she questioned softly. The gruff, threatening tone had dropped from her voice completely. She was filled with a curious, almost fearful collection of thoughts, her mind buzzing. “Are you trying to speak to me?”

The Deceora whimpered, pointing at her with a shaky claw. Belle instinctively flinched, grabbing for her wrench. The thing just cowered, squealing. It drew back, shuddering as it attempted to speak again.

“E-e-elle…” It perked up as it pronounced something coherent, hesitantly pointing at the purple shape. “Elle… Elle!”

Belle’s eye went wide, and she faltered. “Me?”

The Deceora nodded wildly, trotting towards her. Before she could react, it slumped its entire weight against her leg, wrapping its lanky arms around her in a haphazard embrace. Belle nearly kicked it in reflexive action, only stopping herself when she heard the affectionate purr that rumbled from the thing’s core.

This wasn’t an attack… it was a hug. This creature trusted her, even after she attacked it. Not only was it unwilling to harm her; it was fully willing to risk its life to show her… something...

“M… meeee… Luuucccceee…” Its words were slurred, laced with hisses. “Luucceee...Elle… brr-rrooww… brrrrooootheeer….” It trailed off with a mournful croon, its spikes curving downwards.

Belle looked down at it in trepidation. Its eyes had started to glow a solid pink, its voice slowly losing the gravelly tone.

“Are you… are you trying to say… my name?”

It nodded, then tried again. “Luce… me…” It covered its face, wiping away its tears. “Ssscared…. Hurrrrtsss…”

Those few words made Belle choke on her breath. Without further warning, she reached down and picked up the strange Deceora, placing it… him… on the work table.

Voice breaking, she addressed it. “What… what are you?” She forced herself not to cry, her mind coming to a terrifying conclusion. “Why can you understand me?”

He pawed at some blueprints, trying to make the connection between Belle’s brother and himself. As he looked over the papers, his eyes welled up with tears again, and a whimper spilled from his maw. He looked up at the purple shape, holding a blueprint in his jaws as he frantically pointed at himself. Belle shook her head, her mind reeling as she tried to process everything.

Somehow, this was her brother. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and she felt tears welling up again, her expression set in a tight frown. She’d heard tales of shapes mutating into Deceora-like beasts, but in all cases, they lost their minds and became part of the pack. Luce was still conscious, still trying to speak to her, to convince her not to harm him. He didn’t even lash out… and yet, she nearly killed him in a fit of vengeful rage.

As she failed to respond, the Deceora grew frantic, tears falling from his eyes. His jaws clattered as he gave a rattling hiss, pawing at where his name had been scrawled upon the blueprints, until his claws tore through.

“It… me! Yrrr… brro...brroothheerrr…” He whimpered, eyes shining. “Luuuccee…”

Belle snapped out of her trance, backing away a bit as she looked over the beast. He was unrecognizable, save for the pink hue in his gaze. While his form was monstrous, his body language was frustratingly familiar, obviously that of a sentient child… not a predatory beast. He was so frantic, trying to communicate his identity, but the words scrambled, leaving only a guttural hiss, which only aggravated and distressed him further.

No matter how much Belle tried to convince herself otherwise, there was no denying it; the Deceora sitting before her was her brother.

“No. You don’t need to convince me anymore… I know it’s you, Luce.” Her voice shook as she looked him over, feeling quite guilty for attacking him. He hadn’t even put up a fight to defend himself. He was willing to die instead of harm his sister. “How… how did this happen?”

The creature whined, its horns drooping. It held up its injured arm, showing off the bite marks that lined its flesh. The wounds looked fresh, and if Belle looked close, there was still pink blood among the green ooze that dripped from the cracks.

“I… don’t… know…it jussst… hh-hurts...”

Belle shook her head, growling. “That’s not an answer, Luce! Why are you... Why is my baby brother a Deceora?!”

Luce squeaked, then looked down at his arm. The corruption seemed to be centered around the wound. There was no doubt in his mind that the bite had changed him… somehow.

“A-afterrrr...Yoouu… leave. A-arm h-hurt. Change… into this.” He seemed to be getting used to his new mouth, although his words were still labored. He looked down, ashamed of himself. “M-m-monster…”

Tears finally spilled from Belle’s eyes, and she pulled Luce into a hug, hearing his shaky, rasping breaths. A deep, instinctive fear welled up as she heard the Deceora hiss, although her sisterly love overtook that, her embrace only tightening as she realized that… no matter what form he took, this was her brother, and he’d never hurt her.

She pulled away, finding it hard to look him in the eye, not wanting to see his sentient, deep sadness within those predatory orbs. She didn’t want to see her brother staring through her, unable to communicate. It hurt to see him like this...

“Are you okay?” She instantly winced. Of course he wasn’t okay. He turned into a Tree-blighted Deceora. She sheepishly added, “Sorry… standard question.”

Luce huffed, his tail tapping against the desk as he allowed himself to laugh, his chuckles sounding like staccato growls. As soon as he laughed, however, his eyes went wide. He instantly covered his mouth with a paw, whimpering.

“Not… scare… you…” He whimpered. “I… sound  scary… monster...”

Belle sighed, rubbing her temples as her horns drooped.

“You’re not a monster, Luce. Stop saying that.”

He looked away, his voice airy. “You said… it…” He growled slightly as a twinge of pain raced through is back. “Said… I hurt…. Someone.”

Belle followed the Deceora’s gaze to the bloodied wrench on the counter, feeling a swell of guilt settling in her core. Robotically, she reached for the tool, turning it around in her hand. Luce winced, that pitiful whimper beginning to spill from his jaws again. The purple shape faltered, her eye narrowing. Her gaze softened, and she tossed the wrench in the nearest trash bin.

“There.” She folded her arms. Luce tilted his head, perplexed as to why she’d throw away her favorite tool. She scoffed, a tiny grin starting to quirk at the edges of her mouth. “Anything used to hurt my baby bro is trash, as far as I’m concerned.”

Hearing this, the Deceora’s tail started to wag, rapping against the metal table in a series of rhythmic thumps. Frustrated, Luce turned and hissed, trying to stop the newfound appendage. Nothing worked, and he pouted, looking quite silly. Belle watched, stifling a chuckle; this was her brother, alright.

She suddenly reached for Luce, picking him up before he could protest. He was the same weight, perhaps a tiny bit lighter from the energy burned in his change, as well as the shards he was missing. He whimpered, afraid of being dropped, but Belle just chuckled, shaking her head.

“I’m not lettin’ you go again, ya dork.” Her second pair of arms reached to better hold Luce, and he grumbled, his lanky arms dangling. “I see what happens when I leave ya alone… ya go and turn into a Hue-forsaken Deceora, of all the things.”

Luce huffed, and Belle grinned, glad to see him returning to his normal, snarky self. She carried him to the kitchen, dropping him rather unceremoniously onto the tiled floor. The drop wasn’t high enough to hurt him, but he squealed, scrambling to his feet as he was deposited.

“What… that for?” He hissed, arching up. “Rrrr…”

His Deceora instincts seemed to be shining through a bit, yet Belle found herself uncaring of the threat, her back turned to him as she started to search through the cabinets for anything suitable for a predatory animal. Luce would normally eat a bagel or something. In his current state, Belle wouldn’t be surprised if he requested the souls of the innocent, just to mess with her.

“I’m getting you something to eat, ya demon child.” She chuckled, looking over the refrigerator door to see the Deceora snarling at her, his maw agape. “You don’t scare me. I fought off far larger threats before, and you couldn’t even raise a claw to me.”

He halfheartedly swiped at the air, grumbling. He was, admittedly, quite famished. He wasn’t sure if that was to be attributed to the energy lost in his transformation or just the fact that he hadn’t eaten all day. Judging by how empty his stomach was, it was probably both.

He perked up at the smell of steak, tilting his head as Belle grabbed a plate of the rarest meat she could find, undoubtedly the unwanted leftovers from one of her attempts at cooking. While she was a wizard in the engineering field, the same couldn’t be said for her culinary skills.

She set the plate down in front of Luce, who growled softly, pawing at it.

“You need a fork, or…?”

He shook his head, grinning with rows of deadly fangs. Belle raised her hands in surrender, before turning back to grab a half-eaten muffin. Of course, the little snack was pushed all the way back, and so she had to take a minute to dig through old cartons of juice and milk, not caring as she heard tearing sounds around her.

When she looked back, the steak was already in shreds, the Deceora just looking hungrier from the appetizer. He hissed, his eyes flaring a predatory lagoon as he announced his dissatisfaction, arching up a bit.

Belle winced, her eye going wide as she whispered, “Luce?”

The action reminded her of normal Deceora behavior, and for a moment, she thought that he’d finally lost control of himself. Deceoras were prone to tearing their prey into shreds, decimating them like land-borne piranhas. A twinge of worry hit Belle, and she backed up slightly.

However, just as soon as he’d snapped, Luce seemed to regain his senses.

He seemed to notice what he’d done, whimpering slightly and turning away.

Belle’s expression softened, and she kneeled, looking into his eyes. His magenta gaze was fearful, even now, and he drew in on himself a bit, whimpering.

“Not… okay… can’t think…” He held his head, his eyes flickering between lagoon and pink. He couldn’t decide what urge to act on; the will to flee or to lash out.“Don’t want… to be… monster…”

“You’re not a monster-”

Luce cut her off with a sudden, guttural hiss. Belle reflexively flinched, her eye glimmering with fear as she momentarily forgot who she was looking at. The fear in his sister’s gaze only made Luce cover his face, his form shaking with raspy sobs.

“Don’t want… to hurt you…” He whimpered, his breaths labored. “Can’t control… it...wantsss to hurt you…”

Belle pulled him into another hug, and he squealed, flailing. He rested his head on her shoulder, shuddering violently.

“I… scared…” His voice faltered, dissolving into wordless whimpers and sad purrs. “Rrrr….”

Belle sighed. “I know… I’m scared, too…” She looked away. “Don’t worry… I’ll find a way to fix this… we’ll find a way, together.”

Luce crooned dejectedly. “No… I monster… forever.”

“You… you say that as if you haven’t always been… my little monster…” Belle hugged him tightly, her breaths shaky. “I promise I’ll reverse this… somehow. As long as you have your memories, I won’t give up on you.”

Luce let out a low trill, huffing in disbelief. In all the cases he’d heard of shapes becoming feral, none of them had reverted to normal, even after their ultimate deaths. Then again, none of them had retained their minds, either…

“I’m not giving up on you, Luce… just because you’re a Deceora on the outside doesn’t mean you are on the inside. No measly bite is gonna change that, got it?”

Luce pulled away, averting his gaze. Belle huffed indignantly, narrowing her eye.

“You fought off Deceoras before like nobody’s business. Are you really going to let the least threatening one of them all take you down?”

That got her a laugh. The creature’s horns flicked up, and he glanced at her, tilting his head incredulously.

“Me..?”

Belle grinned shakily.

“Who else, ya dork?” She crossed her arms. “Now, what are ya, a cowardly Deceora… or the best baby bro in the universe?”

Luce finally faltered, turning around. His horns folded back, and he gave a non-threatening growl, pouncing into Belle’s embrace. He shook, although he didn’t seem as distressed as before, having been convinced.

Belle stood, holding Luce for what felt like an eternity. She could hear his heartbeat, and from where she stood, she spotted a few broken pieces of metal under the table. Realizing what the metal was, she put the Deceora down, sighing.

“Well, if you’re gonna be like that for awhile, I’ve gotta make ya some new cybernetic enhancements… your old ones don’t fit anymore, eh?”

Luce perked up, his stubby tail wagging. He trilled in excitement, following Belle to the workshop.

While this was in no way the best situation, they had each other, just like always. And as long as they held on, kept trusting each other and clinging to hope, they’d get through anything… they always did.

[thenovelartist]

Second Chances, Chapter 14

First<< Last< >Next

Marinette looked weak. Weaker than he’d ever seen her. It brought to his attention just how strong of a woman she was because he never noticed just how small she was until that moment. It twisted his heart painfully. And considering the way Nino and Alya approached her in pity, it must have twisted their hearts, too.

Adrien turned his attention to the two people Marinette had showed up with. Her parents, from the looks of it. Or at least his best guess. She looked a lot like her mother.

“Thanks for coming,” Marinette said, giving hugs out to Alya and Nino.

“We got your back,” Nino assured, rubbing her shoulder.

She gave him a slight smile before looking over to Adrien. “Thanks for being here.”

He sided up next to her, arm extended with the intent of a side hug, but she twisted, wrapping her arms around his torso and squeezing him tight. Only then could he feel the true turmoil going on inside her: she was one step away from breaking.

Even when she was at he weakest, she was strong.

He admired her so much more than he thought possible.

He settled into the hug, holding her close. “This is really good,” he whispered to her. “I know how hard it was to dig through my mom’s things, and I waited two years to do so. I’m really proud of you.”

She sniffed and squeezed him tighter.

He waited until he was certain she wasn’t going to cry before pulling back. “Now, no more delays. Go open the lock.”

She frowned, her stalling tactics having been caught. She fished her keyring out of her bag, the little ladybug charm hanging from her fingers as she flipped through the keys. Her father gently guided her over to the unit, ready to hoist the overhead door open for her once she removed the padlock.

“You’ve done so much for her.”

Adrien looked down to see Marinette’s mother standing at his side, a smile on her face. “She’s never found so much support as she has in you. I’ve watched her make leaps and bounds in her healing because of it. So thank you. I like having my daughter back.”

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, uncertain yet flattered. “I’m not sure how much I could have helped.”

“Having you walk with her how you healed, it’s helped her so much. There was no way we would be out here today if it wasn’t for you. It seems like she’s finally found a support, and that girl,” she looked to the unit where Marinette was twisting a key in the lock. “When she finds a steady launching point, she soars.”

Adrien turned his attention to Marinette, where she was standing with an open lock in her hands while her father pushed open the door.

The woman patted his arm then walked forward to the now open unit, ready to help her daughter tackle the project.

It was a small unit, but there were a lot of boxes and bins and a handful of furniture. Adrien helped Nino and her father—Tom, he learned, and Sabine was Marinette’s mother—load up the furniture into the back of the van. By the logo on the side, Adrien guessed it was the store delivery van, but it did the job well.

Then to the boxes. Art supplies, Adrien quickly realized. Art supplies and fabric and finished pieces and sketchbooks galore. A few of those were squeezed into the van, but most of it was packed in Nino’s SUV.

And when there was barely any room left, they still had canvases.

“Nathaniel’s work,” Alya whispered in Adrien’s ear.

“All one hundred and sixty-eight pieces,” Nino mentioned, watching as Marinette reached for the first crate of them.

“Hunny,” Sabine said, approaching Marinette. “There isn’t any room left in the vans.”

“I can’t leave them here.”

“We’re not. We just have to come back for them.”

“I can’t leave them here.”

Adrien’s heart broke. He put a hand on Nino’s shoulder. “Go take all that to… wherever it goes. I’ll stay here with her.”

“I can stay,” Alya spoke up.

“No, I’ll stay, Adrien said. “Let me help her through this.”

Alya stared at him wide-eyed for a second before her gaze softened. “Okay.”

Sabine and Marinette were now on the ground, Sabine’s hand on her daughter’s knee while she spoke soothingly.

Adrien walked up to Marinette’s side. “May I?” he asked, pointing to the ground beside her.

Marinette nodded, wiping tears away with the palm of her hand while she choked out a couple sobs.

Adrien sat down beside her. “Alya and Nino are going to go unload all the furniture and boxes, and then they’ll come back to get the canvases.”

“But—”

“We’re going to stay right here,” he interrupted, placing a hand on her knee and giving a comforting squeeze. “Until they come back with empty vans, okay?”

She looked at him a long moment. “Okay.”

He gave her a smile. “Okay.”

Sabine flashed him a grin of her own. “I guess it would go faster if I went to help. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“Okay.”

Sabine stood then bent over to kiss the top of her daughter’s head. “We’ll be back.” With that, Sabine walked to the van, and once she was inside, they soon disappeared from sight.

Adrien was content to sit in silence for a little while, but Marinette stared at the ground, eyes hazy and distant.

“May I?”

It took a moment for Marinette to come back to reality, to lift her absent gaze from the cement ground to him. “What?”

“Would you mind if I looked at his work?”

Marinette stared at him blankly, eyes wide and blinking quickly.

“I mean, we’re going to be here a while,” Adrien continued. “And I’m curious about his artwork.”

“I…” Marinette struggled. “I mean… I guess.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

She paused, gaping like a fish out of water. “I… okay.”

Adrien gave her a reassuring smile, then stood and opened up the closest crate. From there, he saw all the canvases that had been carefully covered in plastic. He opened one to reveal…

Wow.

He had to take a moment to stare at it, to truly appreciate the piece before dragging Marinette into this. He didn’t just ask for no reason. He knew full well that facing these memories was healthy. Maybe it hurt like hell at points, but it was ultimately healing.

“Did he have reasons behind his paintings? Or did he just choose a subject he wanted to draw?”

“It depended,” Marinette answered. She stood from the ground so as to face the painting Adrien held in his hands. Her expression fell. “He loved his superheroes,” she sighed wistfully. “He loved creating characters and coming up with stories for them. But he also loved the old masters. We spent so much time at the Louvre, Nathaniel sketching the paintings and learning from them. His paintings were his way of combining his loves. He called that one Dark Cupid. It was supposed to emulate a cherub, but grown and villainized.”

“It’s incredibly well done,” Adrien commented. He marveled at it a little more before replacing the canvas back in the crate. He picked the next one and was greeted by a stone man holding a strange creature in the same way one would cradle a cat.

Marinette grinned fondly. “Ivan and Mylene. Friends of ours who got married soon after Nathaniel and I did. Nath did another painting of them after they had a baby, only to add another one a year later when he found out they were expecting again.”

“Why the stone monster and… alien?”

“Ivan was large, stoic, and imposing. Nathaniel used to sit behind him because Ivan always hid the fact Nath had his nose in a sketchbook instead of writing notes. But Ivan always had a soft spot for Mylene who played an alien hunter in a short film our class made for a film festival.”

Adrien put the canvas away, only to take out yet another. As the pattern continued, Adrien was realizing that Nathaniel had transformed all of his classmates in one way or another, placing them in some sort of a masterfully painted yet emotive scene.

“Alright,” Adrien said, smile on his face as he put away one depicting a steampunk girl in a clock tower. “Last one.”

By now, Marinette was grinning. Supposedly, that was because she had designed the outfit for the pink-haired girl, but Adrien knew it was more than that. “Okay. I don’t know how he organized them so it will be in—”

Adrien hadn’t even fully taken the canvas from the plastic when she abruptly stopped, her smile quickly fading as her eyes widened and pink quickly flooded her cheeks.

“What is—”

Adrien didn’t finish that sentence. It took only a second to realize why she’d had that reaction.

They stood, each frozen and unmoving as they stared at the canvas.

“Wow,” Adrien eventually said.

“I never saw it finished,” she said.

“It's beautifully done.”

“…Yeah,” Marinette agreed, her voice near breathless.

Adrien couldn’t help but stare. On the tip of his tongue was the question he’d asked for every picture, but at the forefront of his mind, he realized that maybe he should respect Marinette by replacing the picture in its sleeve and place it back in the crate. But he couldn’t. The red in the picture was too bright. Too striking. Flowing every which way around her as though she was weightless. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, not when midnight hair tied with red ribbons floated around a heart-shaped face and blue, blue eyes that were brightened by a sweet, inviting smile were staring up at him.

“It was Valentine’s day,” she whispered, unable to get her voice to come out any stronger. “I was never an early bird, but Nathaniel loved morning lighting. So I set my alarm early so I would wake and have time to put on that dress and do my hair before sunrise. When he asked what I was doing, I told him that I was going to be his model for the day. It was his surprise. He posed me in a handful of ways and went back and forth between a camera he set up and mixing paint colors. He rarely used a camera—he always preferred painting from life when he could—but he said he wanted to capture that moment, the lighting, my pose. Which was nice because I realized just how hard it was standing still for such a long period of time.”

Adrien smirked. “You get used to it.”

He watched her eyes focus back on him, a small gleam sparking in them when she smiled. “Really?”

“No.”

He inwardly cheered when she huffed a laugh, her smile splitting for just a moment before fading back to a small grin.

Adrien returned the painting to its sleeve. That’s when he caught a red scribble on the stretcher bar. Lady in Red. Nathaniel Kurtzburg. Dated two years ago, three days after Valentine’s.

Adrien glanced back up at Marinette. She was still every bit as beautiful as she was in the picture, whether dressed in an oversized sweater and jeans or a form-fitting red dress and ribbons.

“Would you like to see Chloe’s?”

Adrien froze, his mouth suddenly growing dry while his heart slowed. “He painted one of Chloe?”

Marinette nodded. “He did. Chloe may not have been our favorite person, but he did paint her. Let’s try to find it.”

His heart drummed an unsteady rhythm. “Are you sure you’re okay digging through the boxes?”

She looked up at him, her eyes open and vulnerable. “It’s easier than I thought it would be.”

Suddenly, there was a new reason as to why his heart was sputtering and tripping inside his chest.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For being here.”

Before he could figure out how to respond, the rumble of an approaching van called their attention.

“Oh,” Marinette said, her shoulders falling. Adrien suddenly realized just how much of an energy burst she’d gotten. “I… I guess they’re back.”

“It’s okay,” Adrien assured. “You can show me later.”

Marinette fidgeted. “Um… would… would you, instead of game night, maybe… like to come over? I’ll show you the rest of the pieces?”

Adrien’s heart sputtered to a stop, but before he could remotely formulate an answer, Nino appeared at Marinette’s side. “How you holding up?”

“Fine,” she said. “Just… going though old memories.”

Nino stared at the open crate, his eyes slowly widening. “You’re looking through them?”

“Adrien was curious,” she said as an excuse.

Nino continued to look at her, and she gave him a smile. It was dull and tired, but it was a smile. “It’s okay.”

He grinned down at her, looping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her in for a hug.

“Nathaniel was a great artist,” Adrien spoke up.

“For sure!” Nino agreed.

“I told him he needed to show his work,” Alya said, appearing at Marinette’s other side, “but he always turned me down.”

“He should have,” Adrien agreed. “His paintings are fantastic. The style and the subject matter makes for a really interesting mix.”

Nino nodded. “Yeah, but they always looked really cool.”

That’s when the second van showed up, signaling the arrival of Marinette’s parents.

“I think we agreed that these were going to go in their van,” Alya said. “That way Marinette could just head home with them.”

Marinette nodded. “That sounds good.”

They made short work of loading the crates as well as a few other boxes of paperwork. Before long, all that was left to do was for Marinette to go to the office and officially end her lease.

Nino and Alya gave her hugs and bid her well before taking off. Then it was Adrien’s turn.

“Thank you for coming,” she told him. “I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “And for the record, I’d love to postpone game night to look through the artwork. I’m really curious to see more.”

“Okay,” she said. “This Wednesday?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

“Okay,” Marinette said, her cheeks taking on a slight rosy hue. “I look forward to it.”

They stood there for a moment, neither moving. Just as Adrien realized he should just head to his car, Marinette stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his torso. “You have no idea how much I appreciate you being here.”

He felt his face flame and his body stiffen under her touch, yet, he slowly found himself easing into her embrace until he was returning it tightly. “Anytime, Marinette. Anytime.”

She may not be on a date, but Marinette was still thankful that her parents decided to go out tonight. The last thing she needed was them spying on her like they did whenever Nathaniel came over in her teenaged years.

The doorbell rang, and Marinette bounded down the stairs to answer it. She quickly fluffed her hair and smoothed out her skirt before answering the door. “Hey.”

“Dinner,” he said raising up a plastic bag. “And wine.”

“Oh, fancy,” Marinette joked. “Come in.”

“Nino suggested a pasta place, so that’s what I got for dinner tonight.”

“And wine?”

“Actually, this is from my pre-Emma private stash that I haven’t broken into since… well, pre-Emma.”

Marinette chuckled. “Then it’s certain to be good.” She began digging through the kitchen to find utensils. “What did you get food-wise?”

“Chicken parmesan and a penne with sundried-tomato dish.”

“I’ll take that one.”

“Good. I kinda wanted the parmesan anyway.”

With a giggle, she pulled out two wine glasses to set on the table before going back to look for the corkscrew.

Only to not be able to find it.

“She never put it back,” she realized.

“Pardon?”

Marinette tapped the counter. “The corkscrew. My maman hid it away and never put it back.”

“Why would she hide it?”

Marinette felt her cheeks warm as she grinned wide in embarrassment. “There may or may not have been an incident with wine a while back.”

His grin was incredibly smug. “May or may not?”

“May or may not.”

He nodded slowly. “Was Marinette a fun drunk? You seem like the kind that’s gets all giggly—”

“And we’re dropping it!”

Adrien laughed hard.

Eventually, after he calmed down, Adrien resorted to other measures to open the bottle, leaving Marinette impressed albeit curious.

“I taught myself ways to open a wine bottle as party tricks. My father was not impressed.”

“Really? I thought he would be.”

“Not after an incident with champagne and a sabre at a very classy event.”

Marinette snorted.

Dinner was delicious and entertaining to say the least. Halfway through, Adrien was curious about Marinette’s dish and reached across the table to take a stab. He got away with it, smiling with a mix of pride and smugness while Marinette looked over at him with her jaw on the table. She tried to retaliate, only to have him stop her with his fork. This turned into a silverware war that ended when Marinette’s fork was thrown across the kitchen.

The giggle fit they dissolved into may or may not have been influenced by a glass and a half of wine.

By the time they were finished, Marinette did get a bite of Adrien’s dish, calling it spectacular and commenting that she wanted it the next time they ate there.

After they cleaned up, Marinette lead him into the living room where the crates of canvases were.

“Nino bought all the furniture,” she told him. “I just don’t have room for it. Besides, Alya liked it, so he’s storing it in his own unit until he and Alya find a place to move in to.”

“That’s kind of you. I know Alya will appreciate it since she’s told me time and time again how… run down his furniture is.”

Marinette scoffed. “That’s a nice way of putting it. Pretty certain he never replaced the hand-me-downs his family gave him when he moved out on his own.”

They picked a crate at random and began going through the paintings. One by one, Marinette told Adrien the brief backstories of them until they got to a woman with a flute who resembled a fox.

“Alya,” he realized.

Marinette nodded. “Nathaniel thought it fit. Both wild and sly.”

“It certainly fits,” he said, putting it back in the plastic. “Is there one of Nino?”

“Two, actually. One where he makes an appearance as a musician, and one as a turtle hero. After Alya and Nino became a couple, Nathaniel thought it was a perfect match because Nino was slow and steady to balance Alya’s wild.”

“No arguments from me.”

They continued through the crate until Marinette opened the last sleeve and saw the canvas painted in yellow. “I think this is it.”

“Which one?”

Marinette pulled out the painting of Chloe, painted as a queen decked in gold and black stripes. “Nathaniel called this one ‘Queen Bee’.”

She couldn’t read the expression on Adrien’s face as he studied the picture. His hand rested under his chin, and his green eyes were guarded. “He captured her perfectly,” he eventually spoke, his voice quiet. “She very much was a queen.”

Marinette nodded. “Yeah. She was a bit of a diva. But her painting was pretty.”

Adrien nodded, staring at it a while longer before tearing his eyes away. “Thanks for showing me.”

Slowly, she replaced the painting back in its sleeve. “You okay?”

Adrien nodded. “Yeah. It… it’s just still odd. To see pictures of her, that is.”

“Oh.”

“It all just happened so quickly, you know?” Adrien confided. “I’ve come to terms that she’s gone, so much so that I talk about her like a distant memory instead of a woman who was still a very big part of my life five years ago.”

Her heart twisted. It was very easy to forget that Chloe was Adrien’s wife. That he had obviously loved her a lot. That she was the mother of Emma. It was an odd disconnect because while Marinette recognized the similarities between Chloe and Emma, Emma was sweet as her father. And Adrien had been single for as long as Marinette had known him. There wasn’t any connection Marinette made between her school bully and her new favorite people in the world. It was easy to forget that Adrien… Adrien likely felt the loss of Chloe the same way she felt the loss of Nathaniel. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry. It never occurred to me it would be hard for you to see it.”

“It’s fine,” Adrien dismissed. “I wanted to see it. Really. It’s just… one of those things that hits you from nowhere, you know.”

Marinette nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

The somber aura stuck around for a while. Even when they got back to smiling, it wasn’t as bright as before.

“Thank you for this evening,” Adrien said when the time came for him to leave. “It was really enjoyable.”

“It was,” Marinette agreed. “Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome.” After flashing her a smile, he reached for the door handle.

“Wait.” Marinette reached out to grab his hand, turning him back around to face her. “I’m sorry I never realized how hard it must have been for you to lose Chloe,” she started. “If you need anything, I’m here for you.”

His wide-eyed surprise melted into something soft and sweet. “Thank you, Marinette. That’s really kind of you.”

“You’ve done so much for me. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you for it.”

He hesitated, then opened her mouth to say something but stopped. Instead, he closed his mouth and turned his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Anything for a friend.”

She knew that wasn’t really what he meant. She could read it on his face. But she wouldn’t push. “Okay.”

He gave her a smile and squeezed her hand.

And before she could think the better of it, she stepped forwards and engulfed him in a hug. “Just know I’m here if you ever need anything.”

His posture relaxed, and he soon wrapped her up in his arms. He was a good hugger. Steady, supportive, comforting. “Same goes for you, Marinette. I’m always here.”

“I know,” she said against his shoulder. “And I’m thankful for it.”

They stayed just like that a while longer before they eased out of the hug and they repeated their good-byes. With that, Adrien walked out into the cold, November night, Marinette watching him from the doorway.

When he turned to open the driver’s side door, he paused and caught her gaze once again. He flashed her a smile.

“Just returning the favor,” she called out.

His smile grew wide enough to light up the night. “You’re a gem, Mrs. Kurtzburg.”

“So are you, Mr. Agreste. So are you.”

[bimboized]

Oops!

er screen in stunned silence. Running his fingers through his short brown hair, he lowered his hands and pondered sending what he'd found to a watchdog group. The information he'd stumbled across and then pieced together scared him. If he was right, the biochemical company he worked for was in deep with the CIA and MI6. While he didn't know much about organic chemistry, as he was a polymer chemist and engineer, it took some digging, but his research into CRISPR had netted him the information he needed.

The process that Biology Information Manufacturing had come up with, in theory, was decades ahead of what anyone ever thought possible. It had taken some effort, but Andrew had managed to find information: terrorist kept at Guantanamo Bay had been the first unwilling test subjects. Andrews first thought when he'd stumbled over the video files was that someone was browsing porn at work and had been trying to hide it. The time-lapse of the middle Eastern man slowly being feminized, growing massive tits, and then being fucked by two guards had shocked him.

Digging deeper, he found records of people who'd gone into witness protection, along with several missing political figures, most of them running to oppose current leaders. New identities had been forged and post-transformation interviews had clearly shown the full effects of the treatment. It didn't matter how you started, male or female, thin or thick, in your twenties or in your sixties, by the time the treatment was concluded, you looked and talked like some twenty-something bimbo that craved sex in almost any form. It was crazy.

The worst part was that not only did the company had a way to reverse it, they simply chose not to as the governmental agencies wanted those subjected to it left that way. Worse still, while there was information about ways to alter to process to not be so extreme, providing either "natural accelerated breast growth" or complete genetic gender reassignment, the cost wasn't considered "economically viable enough" to provide the treatment to those suffering from gender or body dysmorphia.

Flipping through the files, Andrew wanted to warn the world about this. Had they been willing to offer this to the public, his ethics may have struggled a bit. The way things stood, this was evil. No government should have this ability without steep oversight. Encrypting the files, he pulled the thumb drive from his pocket and slipped it into the machine. He began to copy the encrypted files and tried not to look suspicious.

As soon as the files finished copying, Andrew slid the USB drive into his pocket and closed the windows, leaving the armor weave project information he had been working on in the background along with an email he'd already typed out stating he was taking the rest of the day off. He sent the email, locked the computer and stood up only to see the head of the Biochem division, Jennifer Allister, heading his way. He quickly ducked the other way and, as discretely as he could, he headed toward the exit. He waved at the security guard, Harry, as he made his way out the front door. It was around lunch time, he rationalized, so his leaving shouldn't draw much attention. He got into his car and left the parking lot.

It was a long thirty-minute commute back to Parkview, the village he lived in, his eyes fully expecting that someone was tailing him. When he passed the gas station at the edge of town, he sighed with relief, given the last car that had been behind had turned off a few miles back, probably heading to Fondulac. Thinking about Parkview, he smiled. Andrew liked the people there. He knew most of them, having gone through grade school and high school here. The local bars were decent watering holes and the one restaurant served great comfort food. The small grocery store didn't stock much, but it was better than driving all the way to Springdale.

He pulled into the duplex he lived in and owned, renting out the other half to Isabelle, a Mexican woman in her mid-twenties that often joined him when he'd barbeque on the weekends. She'd outrightly stated she had no interest in men and he'd met one or two of the girlfriends she'd had over in the past. All and all, a nice enough lady, if I bit peculiar in her choice of outfits. Andrew waved at her as she got out of the custom Beetle that she owned. She was wearing a purple and black corset, matching dress, and steampunk goggles that sat atop her head. She waved back, smiling, and waited for him.

"Hey, Andrew," Isabelle said, leaning forward to kiss his cheek, "you're home early."

He shrugged. His hand in his pocket gripped the USB drive. "Yeah, decided to take half the day off to relax," Andrew replied. He stepped back and gave Isabelle a once over, chuckling when she twirled to show off. "Okay, so I have to ask. What's up with the fancy outfit. I'm used to you dressing goth, but this is over the top."

"Had a photo shoot in town," Isabelle replied. "I was supposed to take the day off, but the money was good. You still planning on grilling this weekend."

"Probably," Andrew said, as he really had no idea what his life was going to be like later today, much less later this week. "Look, I need to take care of a few things. Chores, that sort of thing. Let's catch up later, okay?"

Isabelle nodded. "Sure thing," she said, turning toward her front door, pausing there to look back at Andrew. "One of these days, you're going to find yourself a good woman."

Andrew laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, maybe you will, too." Isabelle laughed at that and headed inside. Andrew, in turn, headed to his front door, unlocked it and made his way inside. He kicked off his shoes and walked to the spare bedroom that he'd converted to a personal office. Turning his computer on, he waited until everything was loaded before slipping the USB drive into the USB port. He copied over all the files and mulled over his options. He pondered BookLeaks and a few other sites, finally deciding on one. It took some effort to find actual contact information.

Andrew sent over a few of the files and, as they uploaded, got up and paced. He was going to get fired, that much was certain. Probably sued. He mentally told himself, again and again, that this was the right thing. The upload complete, he sent the email.

He got a reply about an hour later, the person identifying themselves only as Xiang, stating they wanted to see more and were eager to get this out to everyone they could. Andrew replied with several emails, sending the rest of the files. By the time they were done corresponding, it was almost six in the evening. Andrew's stomach grumbled. Sighing, he decided he needed a beer or three along with some food. His nerves weren't exactly shot, but they were close.

Deciding he might be getting fairly sloshed, he chose to hoof it to the local watering hole. It wasn't that far, only about a mile. He waved at Bruce, the one cop that lived in town, as he headed into what amounted to downtown Parkview. Reaching the aptly named "Last Chance", he opened the door and stepped inside, country music playing over the speaker system, the sound of pool being played further inside the tavern. Making his way to the bar, he ordered a pub pizza and a beer from Molly, the woman that ran the place.

As the beer was sat down, Molly smiled at him. "Seems like you got someone's attention," she said, gesturing up the bar to a woman sitting at the other end. He didn't recognize her, but her dark black hair, the overall dress, cute top, and girl next door look of her got his attention immediately. Not to mention her melonous breasts. He raised the beer to her and smiled. She grabbed her own beer and walked down, her hips swaying and her breasts, larger than he'd first thought, bobbing back and forth as she walked.

"Mind if I take this seat?" she asked, looking at the stool next to Andrew.

"Not at all," Andrew replied, "and thanks for the beer."

"You looked like you could use it," she said, sitting down and setting her beer on the counter. "I've seen less jumpy rabbits back on my uncle's farm." She offered her hand. "I'm Kelly, by the way."

"Andrew," he replied, shaking her hand. He took a pull of his beer and sighed. "Been a long day, just not one I overly feel like talking about. Who's your uncle?"

"Leo Smithers," she said, reaching for the menu. "He runs the cattle farm 'tween here and Fondulac."

Andrew was aware of Leonard. He'd heard his brother call him Leo when the two ran into him at the grocery store once. "In town with your pa?"

Kelly shrugged. "Just finished college and looking for work back in Springdale. Uncle Leo suggested this was a good place to get a drink and maybe meet a nice boy." She rolled her eyes then winked at him. "I'm not a big fan of nice or boys, but I like finding a good man who's not too nice if you get my meaning."

Andrew took a pull of his beer. "I might, though I'm afraid my beer is empty and to get all the niceness out of me may take a few more."

Kelly laughed. "Here, have mine as a start. I'll order us a few more."

After a half dozen beers and a couple of shared pub pizzas, Andrew was very into Kelly. She had this charm about her that made her irresistible. It didn't hurt that she'd intentionally leaned toward him and pressed his boobs against his arm when she caught him staring at her breasts. She stood up after her fifth beer and reached for her phone. "I should probably call it a night and call a cab," she said, leaning over to kiss Andrew's cheek and somehow unbalancing herself so that she ended up stumbling against him, her boobs pressing against his chest. Andrew felt himself get instantly hard.

"Or, you know, you can walk me home first," Andrew said with a grin, slowly standing and helping Kelly steady herself. He reached for his wallet before Kelly waved him off and reached into her purse.

"You pay for the cab and I'll get our drinks," she said, her speech a little slurred. She handed her credit card to Molly, who ran it and handed Kelly the receipt. The two made their way outside and started walking toward Andrew's house.

Pausing at the doorstep, Andrew was pushed against the door as Kelly pressed her body against him, kissing him soundly. His hands went around her back before slipping down to her ass. She wiggled against his palms and slowly broke the kiss. "Mmmm, forget the cab," she murmured in his ear. "Why don't you take me inside?"

"Yes, ma'am," Andrew replied, fishing out his keys and unlocking his door before making his way in. They both kicked off their shoes before Andrew led the way to the bedroom. Kelly paused at the door to the bathroom. "Let me freshen up first, okay?" Andrew laughed and nodded, making his way to the bedroom. He was completely naked and laying in bed when he heard the toilet flush. A moment or two later, Kelly walked in, completely naked, holding nothing but a condom. "I like to ride cowboy, if that's okay?"

"Happy to let a woman have her way with me," Andrew replied. Kelly crawled over him and began to lick and stroke his cock before rolling the condom down around his shaft. She then lowered herself atop him and began to rock her hips, causing both to moan in pleasure.

He wasn't sure if it was the booze or what, but Andrew never seemed to grow soft despite Kelly bringing him to orgasm four times. By the fourth, though, he was so exhausted, it was all he could do to pull the light sheet over them both as Kelly snuggled against him.

Andrew woke the next morning to hear the shower running. He lay there for a moment, both dealing with a pounding headache from the hangover and trying to sort out the memories from last night. It was all a bit fuzzy. The shower, at least, confirmed that the dream he had about a woman fucking him silly wasn't some dream. As the shower stopped, Andrew staggered to his feet. He still felt a bit weird, like his balance was off. He staggered to the bathroom just as a pantied Kelly opened the door to it. Her breasts hung freely but she had one hand toweling her hair while the other held the rest of her clothes.

"All yours," Kelly said, kissing Andrew's cheek. "I'm going to get dressed."

Andrew nodded, making his way into the bathroom to relieve himself. He left the door open and lurched in. His foot slipped on a bit of water and he found himself spinning, only to land with his butt on the toilet. "Fuck it," he thought, deciding to pee sitting down. It felt a little odd, to be sure, but he didn't feel like standing just yet.

"I left my number on your nightstand, Andy," Kelly said, pausing at the door to the restroom. "Call me once you're coherent, okay?"

Andrew looked up and nodded, giving a thumbs up. He heard the front door close and decided he might as well stagger to his feet. Slowly pushing himself up, he flushed the toilet and opened the standing shower. He turned on the spray, getting it nice and warm. The shower smelled like coconuts and hibiscus. He realized it must've been the body wash his cousin, Amber, had left behind a few months ago. He grabbed his own body wash and opened it, immediately wishing he hadn't. Something about it smelled off. Closing it, he set it aside and reached for the feminine body wash.

Sighing and rationalizing that it would get the smell of sex off him at least, he put some of the coconut body wash in his hands and began to lather up his arms and legs. His whole body felt week and his eyes stung. He realized he'd never taken out his contacts even as he reached for the similarly scented shampoo to clean his hair. The scent seemed to grow on him, though he was having a hard time focusing. He rinsed his slightly shaggy hair out only to realize he'd completely neglected his crotch.

Lathering up his palms, he reached between his legs to clean his cock, only to realize that it was no longer there. In its place was a perfectly formed female pussy. Rinsing himself clean, Andrew staggered out of the shower, for the first time noticing all the hair on his arms, legs, and around his crotch were gone. Wiping the mirror clean with a towel, he looked at his face and body. Even through the blur, the reflection showed softened features in both his face and body, his waist having thinned slightly while his chest showed the barest hint of breasts. They'd dosed him! He was sure of it.

Staggering back to the bedroom, he found a note along with a pair of panties. The note was blurry until Andrew remembered to take out his contacts. Everything became crystal clear as if his vision had been completely fixed. He grabbed the note and read it again.

"We know what you did and intercepted it, Andrew. We're going to give you a chance to rethink your options. You can either come to work and talk to us about this or you know what the consequences will be."

Well shit.

[y-not-loki]

Performance Night | Original Fic

A/N: Was a request from someone who preferred to go as anonymous. I’ve been working on this for months, which is embarrassing, because it should have been easy for me to write but I always found Original Fiction difficult. *shrugs* Hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Some swearing, siren character swallows shifter character whole, gore (cutting zombies in half and putting them together again), if there’s anything else (probably will be other things), let me know.

Word Count: 6 602

Prompt: N/A

*DISCLAIMER: I DON’T OWN ANYTHING IN THIS, CREDIT GOES TO ANONYMOUS WHO COLLABORATED WITH ME AND GAVE ME IDEAS TO PUT IN, I ONLY WROTE IT AND ADDED IN DETAILS SUCH AS NAMES, POEMS, SOME FILLER-ACTS AND THINGS LIKE THAT, ANY BIG ACTS WERE IDEAS OF ANONYMOUS*

“Gather around, gather around!” Madame Dynamite called out, her French accent standing out in all the riff raff that was the Cirque du Monstrueux, voices and accents from all over the country, and even the world, mixed and blended to make the only noise that would suit their mismatched family.

Vivant stood faithfully at her mother’s side, picking at the stitches that tied her hands together. Madame Dynamite swatted her hand away, and Vivant glanced up with her vacant eyes, before staring at the other monsters, cryptids and mythical creatures that had gathered around.

“Today, we end our tour around Australia.” Her voice carried around the crowd easily, her vampire allure, one of the few characteristics she shared with her Fae cousins, making everyone’s eyes instinctively draw towards her. She swept her long, black hair into a half-bun and turned around, and with one hand easily lights her cigarette attached to her long gothic cigarette holder with the cigar already dangling from her daughter’s rotting mouth. “You know your jobs, but make sure you leave a good impression. We want this to be a success. Now come along, Vivant, we really must get your cannon ready.” She swept away, her black gothic dress fluttering behind her, and Vivant skipped along behind her, her long, black hair floating behind her in a wind that wasn’t there.

Madame Dynamite blew out a long trail of smoke as she left, and it magically shifted into the Cirque du Monstrueux symbol, a fanged skull with two dance batons crossed behind it. A symbol that had been decided upon nearly a millennium ago by Madame Dynamite’s grandmother.

The chimeras were led away by their respective shifter caretakers, usually because they were multiple parts of an animal, they had one dominant animal, and they were paired up with a shifter of that animal.

The vampires got ready, pulling on their acrobats’ outfits.

The bigfoots were getting their pretend stilts ready and grabbing their juggling items.

And the rarest mythical being, a siren, was talking to her shifter boyfriend in the corner, she had lifted her top half above the edge of the pool that had been moved there. Their act was the most popular one, herself being the only siren known in existence.

The fire mages had followed the chimeras and their trainers, getting ready to start their fire manipulation.

Everything was as chaotic as it usually was on performance night. Especially their first performance night with The dragons that currently were hidden in the rafters of the ring that was to be lit by their special dragon-flame.

Everything was going to be perfect. Hopefully. Everyone was layering on their glow-in-the-dark make-up and coating themselves in the special potions that the witches had brewed to resist any flames. Siesta, the siren, had an entire pool of the potion. Or at least a diluted version of the potion, as she wouldn’t be able to breathe in pure potion.

A whistle sounded and everything went quiet. It was so sudden that most believed it to be magic, and it nearly was.

Madame Dynamite’s voice carried out through the crowd, as she gave her customary welcome poem.

“Enemies and friends,

Everyone here has quirks.

Vampires at both ends,” – she gestured to the tight rope high above their heads, with vampires on either end of the rope, and followed up by nodding her head and walking around to each act as she spoke of them –

“and zombies with their perks.

Dragons with their fire,

Sirens with their lure,

Wizards using pyres,

And witches, oh so pure.

Ghosts galore,

And the occasional gore.

This is the circus of the monstrous,

The circus of the devilish,

The circus of the humongous,

The circus of the hellish.

Welcome to the Cirque du Monstrueux!” She shouted the last line, throwing her hands out and head up as the dragons roared, taking flight and lighting the ring around the performers on fire, causing the audience to lean back just as the chimera animated themselves, their respective trainers making them leap through loops of fire, before jumping and standing on their backs as they blew flames, flying around, above the audience, and sometimes into the rafters, weaving through the dragons smoothly.

The wizards and witches used their wands and hands, weaving the fire into flowers, cards, ribbons, even animated animals to impress the audience.

The vampires launched into action, leaping and flipping across the almost-invisible wires, making it seem as if they were flying through the air.

As the chaos unfolded, Madame Dee pulled a skull off her wide-brimmed black hat, the skull of an ancestor, whose name was long lost, and lit it with her cigarette. Wordlessly, she gathered the attention of everyone and threw it up, higher than visible, even though it was a flaming ball.

Vivant was standing off to the side, occasionally going behind the big scene to grab explosives, then coming back out and setting up her cannon, drawing some attention to herself, but not too much attention. The humans were curious about what the little zombie girl with the fat cigar and steampunk goggles was doing with more explosives than they had seen in their lives and a massive cannon that was taller than her.

“I’d like everyone to focus your eyes on the lights above us, slightly below our dragon friends.” Madame Dynamite’s voice cut through all the chatter, even though only a portion of the audience understood her with her thick French accent.

Partially invisible forms appeared, waltzing and gliding through the air, weaving between themselves and the blobs slowly focused. The ghosts swapped partners halfway through the Allemande, then again during the Courante and Sarabande, the looked akin to floating clouds of different colours with flames and sparks lighting up the background. During the Gigue, a new ghost flew through the walls, weaving in and out fast enough that the humans knew that they were there, but couldn’t pin point their features. By then, almost all the music geeks in the audience knew these were Baroque-era ghosts, purely from the music and the characteristics of their dances.

The Gigue (last dance in the suite) finished, and the Baroque-era ghosts bowed gracefully, glancing around almost warily, then the figure that no one could pinpoint suddenly appeared dramatically.

“Hey humans! ‘Tis I, the frenchiest fry!” He shouted. It was almost definitely a he, for he had short hair, triangular form, flat chest, and slightly deep voice, even though it sounded as though he was only 14 or 15.

The other ghosts looked panicked in an almost comical way, but they weren’t honestly all that panicked, just mildly annoyed. “Billy, was this really necessary?” One the older ghosts stepped (or floated forward).

He summoned a dancing baton out of nowhere and started whirling it around, stepping back into a long stance. “Don’t fuck with me, I have the power of God and anime on my side!” He shouted, and the parents in the audience looked horrified as they covered mildly amused children’s ears. The teens who knew exactly what he was referencing were ecstatic that there was something that they had understood or found enjoyment in the circus, as they had only been forced along to accompany families in family outings even though the thought of acrobatic vampires and fire-bending mages had piqued their interest, but they would never tell anyone.

“Billy!” The elderly ghost (named George) exclaimed admonished, and Billy only turned to him with a smirk, before disappearing with a bow as George started to storm (literally, a storm brewed over his head somehow, probably one of the mages finding amusement in their bickering) after him.

The ghosts flew back, bowing and waving at the excited audience, if the first act was going to be this amusing, they could barely wait for the next ones!

Their eyes immediately returned to Madame Dynamite, who gave them a sharp-toothed smile, showing off her impressively long (but still managing to be short by vampire standards) fangs to the audience.

“Now welcome our famously tall bigfoots and our dazzlingly graceful vampires.” She introduced them, and jaunty music began as multiple bigfoots stumbled into the ring with hilariously coloured clown outfits, the famous red nose and juggling items. Each of the 6 bigfoots had a different item, one had coloured bean bags, another had soft balls. One could even be seen throwing loops of fire (touchable fire made by the mages, of course).

They started lumbering around, their clothes emphasizing their already comically long legs to make them look almost like humans on stilts.

The bigfoots lumbered around the edge of the ring, walking around in a rehearsed order and occasionally swapping whatever they were juggling.

The audience began to note the net that was attached to their belts, expanding between them as the vampires occasionally bounced off them, purposefully jumping off their platforms to fall and jump back up as their partner on the trapeze caught them and threw them back up onto the tight ropes, where they danced elegantly in a style that was not of this era.

The audience ‘ooh’ed and ‘aah’ed as they turned their allure on and almost everyone in the room swooned at their smooth movements, momentarily forgetting what ‘monsters’ they were for just needing to drink blood to survive.

The main part of it, was when Aoife came out, drenched in a layer of fire-proof potion and a layer of flammable liquid (thankfully they didn’t cancel out or cause any sort of reactions when they came into contact, so it was a relatively safe show for Aoife), and a chimera swooped down, lighting her on fire, and she looked like an ethereal being, a fire elemental, which were rare, and only known to exist in fire-prone areas (not the Cirque du Monstrueux, or any circus for that matter).

She was the master acrobat and the choreographer for all the vampires and tight-ropers for the circus, and she had come up with the routine herself and was rather proud of it, as it included multiple flips and even a few areas where she turned into a bat and ‘blew’ fire using a technique that the witches had shown her.

The audience clapped and cheered for the vampire, who landed elegantly with a flourish and bowed with grace that could only come with practice. She had, after all, been one of the founding members and a mother figure for Madame Dynamite.

Madame Dynamite cleared her throat, gathering the attention of everyone in the massive tent (which was surely bigger on the inside, how else would they fit the dragons?!) and began directing their attention away from the flashily out-fitted vampires exiting the ring, and towards the chimera, who had their trainers on their backs, their trainers were riding them like surfboards, standing on their backs with their knees bent and their centre of gravity low enough to stay on their chimera.

The trainers waved down at the crowd, happily accepting the attention, and reached down to catch the attention of their respective chimera in their special way, causing them all to roar and acknowledge the audience in a cacophony of growls, purrs, chirps and even a few whistles.

The chimera breathed fire, close enough to the audience for them to feel the heat, but the tongues of flame were suddenly swept away by the fire mages, shaped to be flowers (one particular mage could be seen handing a bouquet of fire roses to another mage).

The audience held their breath as the trainers bounced from chimera to chimera, and breathed out as one when they landed on their original chimera, whilst the mages blew fire, created whips and gave a new meaning to ‘dancing like fire’.

The audience didn’t even notice as the chimera disappeared into the rafters, as their gaze was fixated on the central mage, who seemed to be standing on a column of fire, getting raised up in a spiral with her arms raised and hair life flames. She wore a beautiful cloak that looked like it was on fire and a dress that touched her knees that was covered in jewels that made her look like she was a flame, dazzling and glinting in the light of her flames.

The fire danced across her skin, and when she opened her eyes, it was quite obvious her eyes were orange, a bright fiery colour that was emphasized by her pale skin and the orange freckles that covered almost every inch of whatever the audience could see of her.

She was flame personified.

Her name? Dame Chama. Mistress of the flames, face of destruction and the consumer of worlds.

This was only a small demonstration of what she could do, and she could be out there, destroying other worlds for fun, if she wasn’t blood-bound to Madame Dynamite, or as she’s affectionately called by the performers, Ma’am Dee.

The other fire mages held their breath, praying that the blood-oath to Madame Dynamite was strong enough to keep Dame Chama’s column of flame from burning them to dust as they went through the exit routine. All the lower class mages would walk in first, tossing fire flowers into the crowd, but making sure they don’t make it far enough to burn an audience member, and then the higher class mages would ride their fire familiars into the column of the flame. The column should lead to their trailers.

Too bad Dame Chama didn’t care enough to learn all their separate trailers, so as per usual, some of the mages ended up in separate chambers.

What of Dame Chama? She still stood atop the column of light and heat, the fire growing and dancing under her impeccable control.

She could destroy this circus right there, burn the filthy humans until they were nothing but charred spots on the ground, and the tent nothing but ashes… but she wouldn’t, because she’s a good girl. Mostly.

She bowed, gave the audience a predatory grin, before sinking smoothly into the column of flames, flame-travelling into the candles that currently lit up her trailer, and just as the column of flames disappeared, she decided that she could play along with Madame Dynamite’s little game, pulling the pool of water into the centre of the ring, right where her fire had been.

But pulling the siren with it made it all the more difficult, she already had to pull in a massive pool, filled with water (which dampens her flame game), as well as a tall ladder with a diving board. But pulling a creature not only of a different species, but a creature of the opposite elemental alignment was difficult.

Luckily, she’s a goddess, and if there’s anything a goddess can do, it’s be completely over-powered and manage to do things that aren’t meant to be physically possible. Dame Chama was one of those deities that loved to use their ability to make all others seem incompetent.

The siren leapt out of the water, diving back in as the audience got time to figure out what it was exactly as the ripples disappeared. She dove as deep down into the (charmed) bottomless pool as she dared, before using powerful pumps of her tail to propel her out of the water so that she had long enough for the humans to see what and who she really was.

“Humans, I present to you….” The drum roll thrummed in her bones as her hearts pumped wildly.

She broke the surface, and a loud crash could be heard as a hundred pairs of hands clapped for her.

“Siesta! Our siren!” Ma’am Dee shouted over the din. In the second she hovered before falling down, she flashed all the humans a sharp-toothed grin, saluted and flipped backwards to dive headfirst into the water again. Ma’am Dee was giving the audience facts about her, and her species, although it still was to be proved that there were others like her.

Once she was submerged again, the voices outside of her own little world warbled and muffled, she pulled out a hairclip out of her thick, dark hair. Swimming deeper again into the depths of her tank, she surfaced, threw the clip in the air, and it shimmered, getting brighter until all the humans had to look away. When they looked back, a pipe had landed in Siesta’s hands and she grinned, half out of the water, before blowing into it, bubbles of different colours and consistency, some popping above the audience in a shower of glitter, others formed with snow inside them or a small flame. No one knew now that happened, only Siesta, who thrived in the chaos that the bubble-encased flame caused.

Her favourite trick of all was when her boyfriend, an octopus shape-shifter dove off the diving board, a hundred metres above her. Of course, there was mild discomfort when she swallowed him whole, but it was worth it, seeing the shock of the little, pale, sickly-pink humans. She flipped again, and the bubbles increased in number, Madame Dee had somehow gotten inside one of the bubbles and was now narrating inside of it, voice slightly wobbly and she sounded as if she were underwater.

Surfacing so that she could continue to blow bubbles and watch her boyfriend climb up the ladder to the diving board, Siesta silently willed him to go faster.

The audience was now chanting for Siesta to sing. The sounds of their chants made the water tremble, and some of them were stamping their feet, Siesta could feel it rippling through the water.

Oh no. This was not good.

Madame Dee was trying desperately to get the audience under control. They all knew what happens if Siesta sung; everyone would be enchanted by her melody and instantly be controlled by her mind. The last time she sung, she almost got a fire mage to light Vivant on fire. Madame Dee did not take kindly to any purposeful bodily harm out of performance to her daughter.

She directed the bubbles towards her boyfriend, Damian the octopus-shifter, and he was swallowed up in a massive empty bubble, rising up to the board much faster than he would have gotten there if he had continued to climb.

He nodded in thanks, a small smile gracing his lips and Siesta felt something rise in her. Well, at least she definitely knew her feelings hadn’t fizzled out.

He landed on the diving board with a small bounce, which eventually turned into a bigger bounce as he got ready for the plunge. Nodding at his girlfriend, he jumped upwards, somersaulted, landed on the diving board, before jumping forward, somersaulting and twisting as if he were dancing through the air.

Whilst he had been doing that, Siesta had travelled as deep down into the water as she dared, and as soon as his feet hit the diving board the last time, she pushed upwards with long strokes of her tail. The water rushed past her face, hitting her cheeks and tugging at her hair, and the fins that protruded along her spine and neck, as well as her forearms and the entire back of her tail, flattened as she gained speed. They were only there for direction, and right now, she didn’t need the extra drag if she already had muscle-memorised aim.

She broke the surface with as gasp, as the cold night’s air hit her skin and made it almost sting.

Damian was spiralling head first, like a screw driver, straight for her head, and she grinned as her jaw unhinged unnaturally. The horrified gasps from the audience were music to her auditory sensors, as she swallowed Damian whole.

The sudden fullness took her by surprise, as it did every time, but she swallowed the mild discomfort at swallowing a humanoid and flipped backwards, slipping into the cool water with only the slightest ripple. She felt something inside her shift, and hoped it was only Damian changing into an octopus to get more comfortable. But it’s hardly possible to get comfortable in another’s stomach of all places.

Back-flipping in the water, Siesta rose slowly, so she could lay on top of the water on her back, showing the full length of her tail, almost twice the length of her human portion, and the light underbelly contrasting her darker back. She was almost serpentine with the way that her tail was scaled. Long, large and white scales covered the width of the underside of her tail, and the fins that stuck out on the sides and back were laced with poison. One touch of them could kill a human; two drops of her poison could paralyse a baby zombie or fully-grown vampire.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the zombie child, Vivant, stumble into the ring and throw in a lit bomb. Ah yes, the bomb the size of her torso with a fish skeleton marking etched onto the side. It floated up to her, and she batted it around, the fuse slowly getting eaten by sparks.

Madame Dee started talking again, but Siesta started ignoring her out of habit, it was the same speech, over and over again. Something, something, twin ghost magicians, something, something. Her voice would sound warbled and muffled, then get clear again, then the muffling quality of her bubbles returned.

She had maybe another five seconds, according to the length of the fuse, so she looked up into the faces of the audience. After extensive research and experimentation (a hobby of hers), she figured it was astonishment and curiosity.

A bright flash and a loud bang startled her. Over five centuries of this with Damian and the exact same act, and she was still surprised every time the bomb went off. Sometimes it annoyed her.

When the light and dots that danced in her vision died down and the unnerving feeling of having no gravitational centre dissapitated, she was behind the tent. Of course she was, that’s what the transportation bomb did.

Inside the big tent, Vivant dusted her hands off and disappeared behind the tent to check in Siesta, who regurgitated Damian the octopus some time between the landing and the arrival of Vivant, who could be seen carrying as many sticks of dynamite as her little rotten and stitched-together arms could, before stumbling back into the ring to load up her cannon, which was currently sitting to the far side.

The audience paid closer attention to the little zombie girl now, taking note of the bizarre stitches that covered almost every inch of her, some healed, others still with the actual thread on them. How she healed, no one knew, no one but her mother, the person who had brought her back to ‘life’. They made note of the pale, sickly looking lines of skin on the left side of her forehead, obviously lightning markings, as she had once had to fly through a storm to get to their next destination. Of course, she had similar markings along her body, when she got shot out of the cannon to their next destination as the final act, she often had to fly through storms, and whilst she didn’t carry that much metal, half her stitches were made of thin wire to make sure she held together through the flight. Usually she changed to wire the morning before the final night.

Of course, half the audience’s attention was still on Madame Dee, who was still making her way through all the bubbles. She’d pop one bubble with the end of her cigarette, and then land in another one, before popping that one. Eventually, when she got close to the ground, or at least a safe landing distance for an old vampire such as she (an estimated 20 metres), she took a long drag of the cigarette and blew out slowly, filling the bubble with smoke, filling it until it grew, and grew, and popped.

She landed with a flourished, bowed over, holding both hands out, then pulled herself together and smirking at the audience.

“And now, our magical ghost twins. Trained in sorcery and illusions, these two will show you the true extent of what we can do as what you call… monsters.” Madame Dee made a great sweeping gesture at the audience, then pointed at the little opening to the outside of the tent on the other side of the audience.

The curtains didn’t move an inch, instead, two figures appeared, phasing through the curtains and floating up in sync, opposite each other and an arm’s length away, before back-flipping in the air and floating down to either side of Madame Dee.

“They would like to call for a volunteer! Anyone up for the show of their lives?” Madame Dee called out. There was silence. No emotion showed in the eyes of either of the ghosts, and Madame Dee looked grim behind her show mask.

“I volunteer….” All eyes darted over to Vivant, their back up volunteer for this sort of situation. She fingered at threads keeping the two halves of her hand together, before stepping closer to the twin magicians. They looked rather similar to Vivant in terms of hair length, liveliness, and clothing, but other than that, they were vastly different. Whilst the shared the top hat, long hair and black stare, Vivant’s top hat was pitch black and rather frilly, and had a pair of steam-punk goggles resting on the rim, and the twin magicians were pale, emanating a white aura, all their clothes a blinding white, including their simple top hats, which only had a singular black band around the base, but other than that, their bright billowing capes and striped pants and shirts contrasted greatly with Vivant’s black frilly dress. Vivant huffed out lightly, the smoke from her cigar twirling upwards.

“Well, shall we get started then?” The first ghost, Aidan spoke, voice sounding like the whistling wind that had picked up as the twins made their entrance. Nadia, Aidan’s twin, and Vivant nodded in sync. It showed just how practiced this particular event was, as many humans were too scared of the twins.

“We shall start with the time-weary magic trick, sawing someone in half, first performed by our father, Peter Thomas Tibbles, or more commonly known as P.T. Selbit.” Nadia’s voice sounded airier, as if she weren’t truly there, and her mannerisms further confirmed the appearance that her mind was elsewhere, whilst Aidan seemed alert and very aware of what was happening.

Hurrying her sister, Aidan, swept an arm vaguely to the middle of the ring and a large wooden box on two separate, square tables. “Come on, Vivant. In you get.” Aidan again, proved that she was the more focused one when Nadia nearly walked past the saw that she had been sent to collect. Nadia backtracked quickly, swept the ghostly saw up into her hands, hands with fingertips that dripped what seemed to be mist, but when it reached out to the humans, Nadia’s curiosity getting the better of her and controlling her aura, they felt nothing but cool stinging, a frozen blade that pierced their skin and rippled as they waved it away, only to find that they hadn’t been hurt.

“Rude.” Nadia could be heard muttering as she gave Aidan the other side of the two-man saw. They began working at the wood, it was always a new hollowed out block of wood whenever Vivant had to volunteer. Which was every single time. No one ever wanted to go near the monsters, the cryptids, the creatures that performed for them, and whilst they found it mildly offending, they revelled in the distinct scent of fear that hung in the air every time they got close.

Vivant’s deadened eyes simply looked ahead and she gave no response to behind cut in half. Cut in half literally. Humans started paling, and the adults covered the children’s eyes. Most were thinking: They were going to do that to one of us?!

Of course, they wouldn’t have actually done that to a human, that was only when Vivant volunteers. Otherwise they’d get sued.

The twin ghosts slid the two halves of the table apart in sync, facing it towards the audience to reveal that they had cut at the exact point between floating ribs and intestines so that there was the slightest sliver of flesh that kept her innards inside.

Carefully removing her from the boxes, the twirled around, each holding half of Vivant, before flying around the ring, hovering a few metres above the ground.

Then they started throwing her around. Well, not throwing exactly, they started juggling the halves of Vivant, circling each other in sync. Eventually they became a glowing circle with two halves of zombie flying around between them, and Madame Dee took this as an opportunity to talk a little about her daughter.

“As you all know, the young girl, Vivant, is a zombie. It’s completely safe for this to be done to her, and of course, if one of you had volunteered, we would have used an illusion. Vivant wasn’t always a zombie. She’s my daughter. Was and is. I was already a vampire when she was born, meaning she grew up sickly, prone to all kinds of human diseases. When she was still human, still alive as all of you are, she found great enjoyment in watching the family business,” Madame Dee gestured up at the ghosts who were whirling around, still juggling the halves of Vivant between them.” “But she was too frail and sickly to participate in an act herself. She ended up passing away from pneumonia at around 5, and shortly after, I decided to resurrect her as a zombie to give her a new life. Now she can participate in the circus without any trouble, as she can be reassembled whenever she gets destroyed.” The crowd was silent as the ghosts slowed down.

A slow clap began with a young child, a little boy around the age of Vivant’s physical body, only five years old. Then the audience began to appreciate just how spectacularly talented and unique the circus was. There had always only been one monster circus ever, all the other circuses had been out-competed by the Cirque du Monstrueux, simply because Cirque du Monstrueux was the original and no other circus could quite do what they could.

“And now, you will get a glimpse of just how reparable zombies can be.” Madame Dee gestured at the ghosts, who held each half of Vivant horizontally. Vivant didn’t look bothered at all about her current status of being cut in half at the middle and then juggled, mainly because she didn’t get motion-sickness that easily and her mind was somewhere else at the time (as it always was). They two ghosts slowly put her together again, made sure she was aligned, and then the mist that had been leaking out of their fingertips slowly snaked towards the cut, before sharpening in small threads and acting as wire to sew Vivant together. The strangely ethereal substance made no noise as it slid into Vivant, then out, repeatedly before tying itself together and cutting itself off from where the rest of it connected to the ghost twins’ fingertips.

The glow of the thread slowly leaked into the sealed part of the wound, and the edge glowed brightly for a second, before dying down to reveal just another stitched up scar, a slightly lighter shade of the mottled grey of Vivant’s rotten flesh.

“Finally the ghost girls will show you how indestructible zombies are.” Madame Dynamite spoke softly, so that the audience would quiet down, listen, and watch the show. The ghost girls turned the backs to the audience, and became opaque for a bright second, and when they parted, there was a rocket where they stood.

They pulled out a length of rope, and held a placid Vivant to the side of the rocket, before binding her to the rocket. Soundlessly, Aidan flicked her hand upward and a lit match appeared. Gliding gracefully to either side of the rocket, Aidan and Nadia glowed brightly for one second, seemingly casting one last spell, before Aidan lit the fuse.

Counting together, Aidan and Nadia sounded angelic, their voices mingling perfectly to sound almost human. Almost.

Vivant shot off with a loud boom, and she disappeared through the hole at the very top of the tent, zooming through the ropes that pulled the fabric of the walls together into pole.

She disappeared out of sight, almost comically shining like a little star, just without the little ‘ding’. Aidan and Nadia closed the gap between them so that their shoulders were touching and turned in sync, facing either side of the audience, before waving their arms in identical patterns, glowing lips moving, but nothing but the screams of the damned coming out.

A hundred things suddenly appeared, the displaced air pressing into the audience, then disappearing beneath the canvas of the tent in spirals of wind. A few of them were illusions, the twins being unable to summon such a large number of things – around 200 things – without connecting their power sources. Without looking at the other, the froze, allowing the audience to realise that they had summoned the exact same things in the exact same places to create a mirror image, then the objects started moving, spinning around them creating a mini tornado, like when they had tossed Vivant around.

A few objects flew over their heads and switched sides, an identical objects always passing at the same time, and still, neither twin turned around to see what the other was doing, knowing exactly when the other would send one over and switching at the same time, and the velocity of the objects never wavered, consistent as their bond.

They dropped their arms in sync, and their arms fell at their sides, where they linked their hands and tilted their heads back so they touched and both looked up. Mouths closed, eyes closed and hands held together, they slowed down the objects in sync, sensing something on the edge of the field of energy, and the objects disappeared one by one. The humans began to realise just how much was summoned, after all, humans could only register 50 things at once, and not understands just how much skill it required to summon over a hundred things at once, in the exact same spot as the summoner’s twin.

Right on time, Vivant fell through the gap in the top of the big tent, head first with nonchalance that could only come with patience, practice and time. Halfway to the bottom of the tent, she spat out the skull of an ancestor, name long lost and still burning from Madame Dee’s cigarette.

Catching it with grace, Madame Dynamite put out the flame, brushing off invisible dust, before placing it back on its place on her hat.

Somersaulting, and then planking vertically, Vivant slotted right into the canon that she had meticulously prepared throughout the entire circus.

“Now, it’s time for our grand finale, my daughter, Vivant will be shot out of her canon, but she will not land here, she will land at our next place of performance.” Madame Dee sauntered over to the canon, taking her time as she spoke. “As my daughter is a zombie, she will survive the flight to Shanghai, China. Albeit, she may come out with more battle scars, she will be fine.” Holding the butt of her cigarette against the fuse of the canon, Madame Dee pecked her zombie daughter on the head and in a whisper, wished her good luck.

The fuse was lit and the silence was deafening, the audience straining to see and/or hear what was going on in the ring, but knowing not to get too close. Who knew what they could do? Who knew the true extent of their power? If this was only a show, a display, of their abilities used in a trivial manner, they could kill everyone on the spot without blinking.

Madame Dee’s smooth voice rang out, counting down the seconds, and the audience exploded into action, fear be damned, and leaned forward in their seats, trying to see just how many explosives had been shoved into the canon. “3… 2… 1….” No one said a word, the noise had died down as Madame Dee counted.

A loud boom sounded, sparks flying and what sounded like firecrackers went off. Vivant soared out of the tent for the second time that evening, and Madame Dee grinned up at the sky as Vivant shined for a second, and an almost comical ‘ding’ sound made its way to the ears of the audience. Madame Dynamite turned her long-dead eyes on the awed audience as juggling bigfoots stumbled out, the chimera made a reappearance and the circus seemed to come alive as everyone filtered out slowly, already having seen what they could do from earlier in the show. But a few hung back, a feeling that this wasn’t all to the famous Cirque du Monstrueux.

As the mythical beings trailed out of the tent, Madame Dee, shooed the remaining humans out into the front, following them out. Everyone but the performers were surprised to see a ring of fire mages surrounding the tent.

Raising their arms as one, a spiralling flame, sparking and crackling, formed at the tip of the big tent and at the base of it. Burning the tent up, it collapsed into a flurry of sparks and Dame Chama rose from the flames on a pedestal of flames as the fire mages one by one took a step into the heat and disappeared with the tent.

Last to go was Madame Dynamite, who took a dramatic bow facing the remainder of the audience before the tongues of light licked at her coat impatiently, almost as if it were trying to draw her into the portal. Putting away her cigarette and cigarette holder, Madame Dee grinned, showing off her fangs as she pulled out a big, fat cigar, similar to that of Vivant’s. After lighting it with her cigarette, she pulled out another thing, most of it hidden in her hands, but the remaining audience could still see that it was a bomb. They weren’t going to blow up those who stayed behind, were they?! They weren’t. Well, Madame Dee was going to set the bomb off, but it wasn’t harmful. That much. Lighting the bomb and stepping back lightly, she grinned at the audience, the cigar balancing dangerously on her lips as she took a long drag. Blowing the smoke upwards, it formed the logo on the cigars and cigarettes that Vivant and Madame Dee used, the family sigil, if you will.

“Well, humans of all kinds, this is goodbye… for now.” She threw the bomb up as she backed into the flames suddenly, the bomb hung in the air, a few seconds too long for it to be natural, and Dame Chama could be heard cackling through the pillar of flames that used to be the tent, over the backdrop of whispering audience members and the busy traffic of Shanghai through the portal, but the portal suddenly closed with a snap milliseconds before the bomb hit the floor, leaving no trace of the strange entities that were there just a few minutes ago.

As soon as the bomb hit the grass a few seconds later, it exploded, leaving sparks that formed a massive skull, empty holes staring into the souls of the remaining mortals.

[pinkguacamole]

It’s Impossible to Write About Afrikaburn

But nothing is impossible…

I spent 11 days on the Tankwa Karoo of South Africa, a shale and sandy desert surrounded by flat-topped rocky mountains in the distance. I lived off of museli, peanut butter, apples, and water from a giant jug that tasted of plastic. I slept in a tiny tent, just large enough for my bag and me, and maybe visitors if they liked to be close and cuddly. I sang and I danced and I ran around free as could be. I took it fast and I took it slow and I breathed and I tried new things and I lived in color. I created. I got chapped lips, chaffed thighs, a fever from dehydration (yes, all my fault!), sore feet, broken sandals, and a perspective flipped upside down, then sideways, and maybe it will never be “right-side-up” again. 

I wanted to travel the world and explore events. Burning Man has always appealed to me. An event where a society is built and then burnt away, no trace left behind. A place of radical expression and radical self-reliance. In the desert. Why would anyone want to do that?

Even though I am from California, I was never able to attend Burning Man because my university classes began in August and I had to at least pretend I was a good student! So here I was, years later, leaving Madagascar, traveling through Southern Africa, and there was a regional Burning Man event: Afrikaburn. I had to give it a whirl. 

When I bought my ticket I decided to join a themed camp. I felt that it would be the best way to feel involved in the community. I would be a part of something. I would volunteer my time and be surrounded by artists and maybe some people who knew what they were doing. I joined the Flow Arts Commune. I did not know what Flow Arts was at the time, but I enjoyed each word individually: 

Flow- I was looking for flow. I wanted to relax and go with the flow. I wanted to be in flow. 

Arts- I wanted to immerse myself in art and creativity. I wanted to see colors flying in every direction. I wanted to be inspired. 

Commune- I wanted community. I wanted to be a part of something. 

I asked to join and the amazing organizer, Ryan, took me in and guided me along the way, telling me what I should prepare and do for the event. He was a life saver. I went up a few days early with Ryan and some of his friends so we could set up. This group: J, Ryan, and Monica, all South Africans, became my home at Afrikaburn. We were early to the event so we had a lot of time to bond and watch the city rise as more and more burners arrived each day in another  fiery Sunrise and Sunset. 

It turns out that Flow Arts are fire arts, poi arts (LED lights on the end of a string), and hula hooping arts. All crucial to an event like Afrikaburn. Flow Arts light up the night. 

I was a sham. I was not a Flow Artist. I never even made time to learn how to do any of it in my 11 days. But I got to meet fire dancers and bond with them and learn about their lives and I became somewhat of a groupie. On the vast Playa at night, sparkling party lights and dance floors and colors could be seen for miles. And you can always spot the fire dancers. I followed the fire dancers. They would hop from stage to stage, all night, until the break of dawn, preforming their art. It lit up my life. It made a cold desert night seem warmer. I was in a kaleidoscope of fire. 

All night the world was sparkling and we danced. (Like robots, because most of the music was Trance music). 

Despite the magnificent glow of fire and el-wired humans bobbing around with their own vivid radiance, bringing a dark desert to life each night in an Alice in Wonderland-scape of caterpillar smoke rings, dancing lights, and Cheshire Cat smiles, daytime was actually my favorite time of Afrikaburn. 

Every day was a new adventure. As someone put it, a “choose your own adventure” book. 

To set the scene, there were dusty art pieces, some a few stories high: a shell, a baobab tree, a branched platform, shark fins, a temple, boxes, cameras, and hearts- all made of wood and brought to life. Most pieces were so large you could walk up or in them and see the world below, from the eyes of the creation. And they were all burned in the end. 

There were “mutant” cars passing around. Funky, creative, clever. Whatever an imagination could bring to the table, it was there. I helped paint a light-up zebra car one day. It would “moo” whenever it passed its friends. There was a Spirit Train: a moving dance floor that would select a new home during the days and nights and showcase a plethora of D.J.s- most were pretty good. 

There were colorful bicycles. Kicking up dust as they sped along with their flowers and streamers bopping in the wind. 

There were themed camps of galactic colors. Some serving pancakes and others serving wine. Some with coloring books and some with instruments to play. There were swimming pools and orange juice and body artists.

All of this was lit up at night as well.  

And the people. The people were their full selves. It seemed that everyone was wearing whatever they would wear if they could wear anything. And sometimes that was nothing at all. There were fairy skirts and top hats and steampunk gowns. There were tutus and dinosaur suits and capes. It was self-expression to the max. And apparently self expression to many men is the uniform of colorful leggings, a cowboy hat, a bandanna (to keep dust from the face), high boots, and they would be either vested or bear-chested. I guess this is the “look of the year.” I met a guy at the beginning of the week who dressed like this, and I was always able to spot him, until the weekend rolled around and it was a sea of skinny men all dressed the same. Sigh, the one that got away.

Each day my outfits slowly melted into nothing. I started off my 11 days in the desert, dressed in my usual clothes. I am traveling, so I didn’t have any of my funky costumes anyways. As the days passed, I got more colorful. I wore a tutu and a bikini. And then I took off my shirt and let a man paint a butterfly on my chest. I spent the rest of that day and night walking around as the butterfly slowly began to fly away and there was nothing there keeping me from the rest of the world. It was liberating. 

The next day I just wore a piece of simple fabric. I went to one of the themed camps filled with nudists and it did not take long for the fabric to fall off and for my friends and me to start drawing designs on each other using body paint markers. 

One of the principles of a Burn is “gifting.” All participants should try to give something, in some way to contribute to the community. I collected a lot of sweet trinkets and yummy food from people I met along the way because of this. My gifts were the gifts of volunteering and singing. These are both things I use to identify myself. I am literally a professional volunteer (2 years as a Peace Corps Volunteer gave me all I need). I volunteered in “Off Center Camp,” so I could learn more about the ins and outs of the event. I stuffed bags, painted furniture, greeted new arrivals by making them roll in the dirt. Then I hugged them and welcomed them home. I also tried out Rangering: walking around for a shift, making sure everyone and everything was okay. It was mostly just a great time to chat with my ranger partner who was a 67 year old man who has been to Burning Man 8 times and rangers no less than 65 hours each event. 

Singing was not a hard gift to give. Everywhere I went I met people who wanted to sing with me, or would just sit back and let me go on my own. There was one theme camp with instruments. One day I went with a few friends. I started singing into the microphone some improvised “Afrikaburn Blues.” Throughout the afternoon musicians of all types stopped by to jam and we made improvisational blues for hours. It was amazing. And exhausting. I had to be really creative on the spot, but I channeled my inner Drunk Judy Garland and I think I gave a pretty entertaining show. People were recognizing me for days after this so I must have done something right. 

Each day was a journey. I went to get pancakes at one camp and left with a new friend instead. I met people from all over the world and we talked about life, politics, culture, art- anything. I only had to defend myself against Trump a handful of times. People were sympathetic. We talked about race relations and how most attendees of Afrikaburn are middle-class white South Africans. It was something that bothered us all, especially because the farms surrounding the event were communities of African farmers who would not afford and most likely not even understand an event like this. Ultimately no one had any solutions to this problem. There is a clear cultural divide. It parallels the divide in the States, but it is more prominent and talked about here. 

At the end of the event food and left over water from the giant jugs would be donated to local communities, but ultimately, what does that really do? I know my experience at Afrikaburn was not the “Africa” I was used to in Madagascar. But it was still African. White South Africans are just as African as White Americans are American. It is all occupied territory. And like always, I am conflicted as hell.  

One of my biggest challenges in life is to live in the moment and let go. I feel like I am always planning the next step. My goal at Afrikaburn was to forget that and live. I think by the end of the week I had it down. Through a smorgasbord of new experiences, I was getting better at not putting pressure on myself and just being. Just doing what I felt like doing. There was no wrong turn to take at Afrikaburn. Every environment was stimulating and inspiring in some way.

I spent most of the time hopping between groups of friends I had made. I liked meeting new people, but I always crave a deeper connection (I am alone a lot!) so when I met people I clicked really well with, I tried to keep them in my peripheral. It worked really well!. I had multiple homes at Afrikaburn. There was so much love. I tried to just be carefree and give all the love I had. And make people feel warm and comfortable around me. 

On one of the last nights, I was pooped and I ended up falling asleep early. I think it was my 9th night there and I was starting to get really reflective. It was the Saturday night where weekend partiers had come in and most people would stay up until noon the following day. I went to sleep early and woke up in time for the 5am burning of the Baobab Tree. The Baobab Tree or Tree of Life was a massive tree funded by the Swedish Government. An army of builders came months before the event to create it. The tree had been a wonderful place to hang out throughout the event, to watch the world, to watch the sunset or the sunrise. And it was now time to burn it all away. 

At 4:30 am I heard some of my other friends in camp getting up to head to the tree. It was dark and oddly enough I wanted to go alone. So I slipped away before anyone could see I was around. I crossed the desert and sat on the rocky terrain, surrounded by fellow burners -all strangers this time. I did not talk to anyone. I just watched the fire dancers and waited for the Swedes to take their torches to their masterpiece. 

Once the tree was aflame, the fire grew into an explosion and lit up the whole Playa. I looked around and could see the expressions on the faces of people near and far. It was hot and I felt my face melting but I couldn’t look away as the embers began to fall all around us. 

Eventually I turned around to walk away, hoping to cross back to my tent before the firelight dimmed so I would not have to use a flashlight. I turned around periodically to watch it glow. 

As my sore feet crossed the sandy earth, I had an epiphany. I realized I was completely satisfied with my Afrikaburn Experience. I had done all I wanted and hoped to do. My mind had been widened. I was so inspired. Even though I was surrounded by friends, I felt comfortable being alone (in general I do not like being alone). In fact, I realized what a gift it was that I have spent these last three and a half years traveling and living abroad relatively alone. I felt empowered. I felt like I could do anything. I was reinvigorated to write music and perform more. I was reinvigorated to travel alone in other African countries.

The event wound down over the course of the next few days. I saw the people I cared about and made sure to exchange information. There was no internet in the desert. I watched people dismantle their camps, and I felt a tinge of sadness. Something I’d become a part of was going away. It was over.

For my last night, I tied a string I’d been wearing on my wrist since Madagascar inside the Conch Shell. Hours later I watched the shell burn away with a piece of my past sizzling along with it. 

There was a rainbow the next morning and I left Afrikaburn with my South African friends. I was still high on life. A phoenix of sorts. I was half-dead but I’d never felt more alive.

[frankierising-blog]

Crappy Lair Review for Passenger

-Okay, a few things I forgot about as I haven’t done Lair Reviews in a long time. 

1. I’m terrible at them. 2. I ended up swearing a fair bit. 3. They take me.... AGES. I’m sorry!!

Before I go into it, overal:

LOVE your lore... but there’s not enough! You tease us with the intro and with Crow and then there’s only little teasers. I AM ADDICTED TO YOUR LORE, FEED ME!!

Also, love the subtlties of a lot of your customisations, there seems to always be flecks of blue, green, yellow that perfectly contrast or compliment the outfit!

Okay, onward!

@fr-ari

FIRST IMPRESSIONS:

I love how discrete the Customisations are! At first glance your lair looks quite plain, there’s lots of neautral colours and when you’re just looking at the thumbnails it all looks very simple... but the longer you look, the more details and differences and personalities that you start to see! I thought that was neat!

Okay Individuals:

Luc:

Um.. ex freaking SCUSE ME!? Wine/Cin/Wine is SO freaking amazing! I had no idea! And the Facet/Glimmer looks GORGEOUS with Skink! LOVE THIS SO WELL GENES HOLY CRAP! 

But... are you going to add apparel? ARE YOU GOING TO DRESS THIS BEAUTIFUL MOFO!? IS THERE LORE? IS THIS A WIP!?

Crow:

Crow’s story is awesome! I love the simplicity of his apparel! I imagine having to wear a respirator that ends up giving you your nickname would kind of make you want to avoid drawing any more attention to yourself – so you’re probably try to stay as neutral as possible!

I feel like I want to see him in a trench coat or something, but I guarantee that’s only because of the goggles.

Question, are they part of the respirator or for another purpose?

The artwork though! There’s two broken image links on my end but I can see the top one and it is STUNNING! LOOOOVE CROW!!!

Lovett:

Okay, so I assume Lovett is geared up for flying, but boy you’re not fooling anywhere. Patchwork, leaves and smoke everywhere? Oh, you’re flying alright... Tert: Smoke ;)

But hecking heck, how GOOD does shadow and goldenrod look!? And the little green (*wink*) flecks throughout, hot dayum!

Flint:

Hnnnng.

 HNNNNNNG

 HNNNNNNNNNNNNNG!!!!

 Flint, you sexy m*** f*****!!! Look at this flying steampunk robot dragon!!! I love this so much, holy crap! The cheeky little accent underneath Silver Steampunk Wings is cheeky AF and gives the whole thing a kind of a creepy undertone. Like, Ridgebacks always look like they’re smiling, so I immediately thing this is a jolly pilot, deliveryman or otherwise helpful fellow who loves life…. But that sneaky little hint of red under there…. Suspicious….. BUT ALSO MATCHING FAMILIAR IS YES GOOD… but fuck that Hooded Dodo, they’re always puffed up arrogantly, smug bastards.

 Slaid

Holy crap, I can’t tell if Slaid is rich or poor! HE’S GOT WRAPS AND MISSMATCHING STUFF BUT THEN THERE’S ALL THIS GOLD AND STEAMPUNK! The mismatch kind of gives me the impression that he’s comfortable, but perhaps doesn’t always acquire his goods from the most honest of sources? Does that make sense? Like he’s been collecting his gear as he goes along in his travels.

 CROW’S LORE WAS SO GOOD, I WANT MORE LORE ABOUT THESE GUYS!!

I really like this outfit though, it’s cluttered and miss-matched but everything sort of fits together nicely, nothing is clashing. You’re really good at subtly matching colours! (TEACH ME!)

Cardani

THE HAT SORT OF LOOKS LIKE A FEDORA ON GUARDIANS, I AM LAUGH! But bloody hell, are the Greens intentional? Oh wait, Wind Flight… so probably. WELL EVEN SO CARDANI IS KIND OF BAD ARSE! I’M REALLY GLAD HE DOESN’T HAVE MUCH APPAREL ON HIS MIDSECTION BECAUSE THE IRI/SHIM/CRACKLE LOOKS BLOODY AMAZING!!! <3

Bonemother

 It took me a second to actually see the dragon under all that, dayum. I LOVE the Guise and the Skin together, that looks so dark and kind of ghoulish, but I feel like there’s just a little bit too much going on here. I feel like I’d like to see it with either the Crown of Bones OR the Bone Antlers on their own and maybe with a few less accessories? Mind you, that’s just my opinion and my lair looks like a dumpster so wtf do I know?

 BTW WHO DID THE TOP ART FOR BONEMOTHER AND CROW!?

Fausten:

Subtle greens, Subtle Greens, SUBTLE GREENS! Yaaay! Also loving how much the shoes match it’s Secondary! <3

Vedere

ExfuckingCUSE me right now!? This is perfection. PERFECTION! THE SIMPLICITY, THE INTRICACY! It’s beautiful, delicate, fierce and horrifying, I love it! You have NAILED IT!!! GOD I WANT LORE! MORE LORE MORE LORE MORE LORE!

Kell:

LOVE IT! CREEEEPY AS FUUUUUCK!!! Hopefully that was the intention! The art is effing AMAZING TOO!! Who did it!?

This one is busy too but I feel like it’s the perfect amount of busy - I get the whole Voodoo vibe, but is that too shallow an interpretation of Kell?

Hallow:

OMG I love him and I hate him! I mean, he’s gorgeous and he seems charming.. but on the other hand, look at all that discrete gold. It’s subtle but flashy and he’s waving his Light Sprite around, acting all chill, but you just know he’s mocking you… or is he? Still don’t know if I hate him or I’m jealous of him (in the scenario where I am somehow a dragon responding to his existence, haha).

 The colours though, the accent, the subtle yellows… dayum. He better have a super gorgeous mate when I click next or I’m so freaking stealing him. I’ll find a way!

But I have to ask, Why Hallow and Trick or Treat? IS THIS JUST A COSTUME!? IS HE ACTUALLY UGLY UNDER THERE? OR is that flirtatious?

Shiver:

Bleaurgh, look at this queen! Fire and Ice, BLAAAARGH!!!! BLLLAAAAAAARGH! BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!! I’VE GOT ANOTHER ELEMENT FOR YOU: VOMIT.

 But seriously, you’ve put this together really well, everything compliments eachother perfectly so it looks fantastic!!! I just hate Twilight for using that STUPID ROBERT FROST POEM! BLAAAAARGH! BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!

Liden

OH MY GOD, YES, GOOD! YES! THIS IS FANTASTIC!!! PERFECTION! I don’t have enough to say about Liden because he’s freaking perfect! Per. Fect. I am starting to dislike you as a person over how nice some of your dragons are, purely jealous!!!

 TRULY IS A FINE MINT CANDY BUT WHERE IS THE MINT CANDY LORE MY FRIEND!?

[Okay, I see I have more notes now and I feel like I need to try to get a few more done before I finish work, so I’ll try and get a few more in but maybe with shorter responses]

Ari

Okay, Ari and Liden together are a pretty freaking nice Fire & Ice style thing - especially as you could also see this as Autumny more than Fire, but next to the ice.. yeah. Anyway.

SEE, EVEN ARI HATES THE FIRE AND ICE THING AS MUCH AS I DO! But seriously, I really like the simplicity of the apparel, it makes the accent pop so hard, and Ari looks like he has resting dick face so he’d probably be a little prick if you tried to jazz his outfit up too much!

Lear

NO, STOP, THIS IS SO FREAKING BEAUTIFUL!!! THE LITTLE WINGS WITH THE CROWN - ALL THE CUTE LITTLE PINKS AND PURPLES FUUUUUUUU- 

Lear seems almost out of place in you lair, I like that! She’s so freaking beautiful, holy crap!

Griffin

THIS REMINDS ME OF LINK FROM ZELDA! HOLY HECKY HECK, THIS IS FREAKING AMAZING! PERFECT AMOUNT OF GREEN AND BUSY AND LOUD AND SUBTLE ALL AT ONCE!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAH1!!! Griffin is my favourite! I like how the goggles and the accent sort of tie him to the rest of the clan but he still seems like such an outsider! LOOOOVE!!!

Okay, I’m gonna end this here. I’m sorry if this wasn’t what you were hoping for! Feel free to not pay if it’s offensive or not up to standard!

Regardless, hope you liked it and thanks for your patience!

[moonlightreal]

Winx Club Season 8/5

In which there is a lot more Musa/Riven content than I was expecting.

5 Orion’s Secret

The black hole is drawing Puripla in. Valtor gloats about how he’ll ‘absorb Purripla and everyone on board—into the void!”  does that mean he’ll steal all their powers?  

Love the animation here.

But on Puripla, nobody realizes they’re in danger!  The winx just restored the core and lumens are cheering!

Then, whoops, black hole alarm!  We’re in danger after all!

In their wrecked ship—which is named the Owl!  I love it!--anyway, it crashed.  It’s not going to fly anytime soon.

Orion is wandering Puripla’s halls, keen to steal the ruby before the whole star is pulled into a black hole.

Tecna’s helping the lumens with their computer, plotting how to escape.  Lumens rush around the core, feeding it energy.  Twinkle cheers them on.

It’s not enough!  We’re going in! Valtor gloats!  He’s finally defeated the Winx!

The lumens are too tired to keep powering the core, but Bloom has an idea.  The Winx use their Cosmix power to boost the lumens’ strength.  Puripla glows pink and begins to pull away from the black hole.  Watching on his asteroid Valtor rages and feeds his evil power into the black hole, making it grow bigger!

But good triumphs.  Puripla escapes. All is well!  Bloom comments it’s lucky the ruby was able to ‘channel and absorb all that power.”  so it’s like an add-on to the star core I guess.  And it exists just for Orion to steal ‘cause here he is lurking around waiting to do just that.  

Valtor walks out of a portal complaining that the Winx got away again!  Wait, did he just portal from one room of his fortress to another for dramatic effect? Obscurum tries to cheer him up but just ends up pissing him off.

Valtor: ‘The Winx are still fluttering around happily in the magic dimension!”  there’s a line.

The Winx and lumens giggle, then the captain asks Twinkle for an explanation.  Twinkle says the Winx aren’t just musicians, they’re fairies on a mission.

Bloom: ‘Our mission is to save the stars from Valtor, an evil sorcerer.”  She makes the funniest evil face here.  Lumens gasp in fear.  But Stella says they can still put on a concert, and that cheers everybody up.

Orion is still luirking, which would be tough in a star full of… waaaaaait, this star is the home of lumens who are about six inches tall, but its hallways are wide enough for a group of humans, with high ceilings.  Maybe the halls are like streets, and the lumens each have tiny sized houses somewhere else? Ah, I wanna know everything about lumen culture!  Or make it up, that works too!

Then Orion hears someone coming and uses a really cool power.  His suit has an antigravity thing, he goes weightless and floats up to the ceiling, where he camouflages into invisibility.  Neat!  Unfortunately he dropped a Clue—his telescope that fell out of a pouch on his cool steampunk belt.

The boys are the ones to find it, they’re coming on board.  Riven picks up the telescope and recognizes that it isn’t lumen technology.  But he doesn’t see Orion floating on the ceiling, so the boys go on.

Reunion!  Hugs!  

Riven waves at Musa, who looks away.

Sky has a surprise for Bloom, what could it be?

Orion drops from the ceiling with a cocky grin.  His voice is better than the specialists’.  I couldn’t say exactly how it’s better, it just is. 

Cut to the concert stage where Tecna is talking about how Bloom’s idea saved the ship--”like always.” Self awareness of Bloom’s Sueish status?  Lumens come racing in to get Bloom.  She follows them to… this really cool geodesic dome on the front of the star.  The lumens swirl above Bloom’s head and her clothes change into a ballgown.  And there’s Sky at the door of the dome, dressed in… well it’s not the worst prince outfit ever, I guess.  Purple jacket, the cut isn’t awful, and he’s got a medal.Maybe he won it for defeating a hundred monsters.

They dance in the dome, which has no gravity so they float into the air.  Giggling.  Sky’s laid out the picnic in midair.    They dance some more, with magical-girl lights drifting around them.  Not terrible, for a romantic scene.  Points.

Back at the stage everyone’s hangin’ out waiting for Bloom to get back so they can have their concert, I suppose.  The girls are sitting near their boys.  Riven and Musa are sitting not-near each other.  He’s looking at her; she’s looking at the ground.  

Can I digress again?  Riven needs to quit this and just frankly ask Musa if she wants to give their relationship another try or not, instead of constantly aiming hopeful looks at her while surrounded by their very paired off romantic friends and trying to “prove he’ll always be there for her” without asking if she wants him to be.  It’s not that this is a 100% bad ship forever, but right now all signs point to ugh.  I ship Musa/Orion and Riven/a clue. 9_9

Riven comes to try and chat with Musa, asking if she’s picked the opening song for the concert and if she wants to give it a test run,.  She is beyond unenthused, looks away from him, says, “Fine.” in the most “why are you not reading my go-away vibes?” voice.  

But there’s Orion!  Ducking behind something outside.  Only Riven saw him.  He goes running after the interloper.

Aisha comes over to Musa.  “Are you ok?”

Musa: “I just… can’t understand him.”

I don’t know what that means.

Chase!  Cool design of the halls of Puripla!

Concert!  Happy lumens!  Transforming instruments!  New song!  I think it’s new, honestly they kinda are the same.  Cute but not memorable.  Beautiful visuals though.

But while the lumens are at the concert, Orion made it to the engine room and grabbed the ruby! Riven realizes his quarry is invisible and uses a smoke bomb to smoke him out.  Fight!… only Puripla hits some asteroids and shakes and Riven loses his balance just long enough for Orion to run for it.

Orion can make holograms of himself too.  And super-jump.

And then he throws himself off the side of the ship into space.  Riven freaks seeing this guy basically commit suicide, but of course Orion was jumping onto his invisible ship.  And away he sails!

But we’re in trouble again.  With the ruby gone, Puripla’s engines are down, and the star is drifting into an asteroid field!

Lumens = too dumb to leave anybody to watch the engines?  ‘Cause apparently they’re all at the concert. But I guess if this is only the second time they’ve ever heard music it makes sense maybe.  It’d be a big deal.

More singing as we approach our doom. On no!  Asteroids!  We’re doomed twice in twelve hours!  Without the ruby Puripla is drifting out of control.  

The Owl is fixed and the specialists take off after Orion while the Winx take off in Cosmix form to… push asteroids out of the way I’m guessing.  I like this!  This is a solid plan to fix a problem!

But leave it to Valtor to ruin it.  He enchants some asteroids into a space rock monster.  Battle is joined!   The Winx aren’t having any luck against it.  But Valtor’s running out of steam too.  He’s done a lot of magic today, growing that black hole, and creating a rock monster’s worn him out.  He drops to his knees but pushes through in hopes of destroying the Winx finally.

Bloom realizes they have a chance to attack when Valtor’s magic falters.  They blast the monster at the right moment and it falls apart.

The most powerful sorcerer in the magic dimension is left flat on his back.

The specialists stealth their ship to sneak up on Orion, who’s gloating over his new ruby in a bronze-and-gears flight deck scattered with a bunch of other rubies. He’s really happy to have it, he’s going to… “restore Invidia’s light?”  Is that what he said?  Then the Specialists bust in through the ceiling.

Then we cut back to puripla, which is still in danger.  it’s about to crash into a planet!  The captain calls it… Perlisha?  Doesn’t matter, probably.  Because the boys are back with the ruby!

And Orion!  Yay, explanation!  Orion is an “astroscientist” and the planet below, Perlisha, is his home world.  Its star, which I think is Irridia not Invidia, has gone out and Orion steals rubies hoping to get it going again before all the plants wither.

Musa: “And for that you’d set Puripla and its crew adrift?  Kind of selfish don’t you think?”

Orion says he pretty much had no choice, he’s trying to save the people of his planet from starving.

The girls ponder-- can they trust him? They decide they can.  Bloom says the Winx will help him.  Orion is delighted.

Riven: “You’re willing to help a thief?”

Musa: “Something wrong with giving someone a second chance?”

The gang decamps, the boys to return the rest of the stolen rubies, the girls and Puripla will, I guess, follow Orion to his star.

Riven: “Musa, be careful.  I don’t trust him.”

Musa: “What’s that?  You wouldn’t be jealous would you?”  She looks SO catty.

Riven: “Of a thief and a liar?  Of course not.  But you’ll see I’m right.  He’s no good.  You’re setting yourself up for disappointment.”

Musa: “Don’t worry.  I know what it’s like to be disappointed.”

Soooo much what.  Does Riven think Musa has a thing for Orion?  Because the Winx are just going to help him like fairies normally help people.  I mean I’m making shipping jokes from the other side of the fourth wall but in real life it’s not like an unattached person falls for a new person just automatically.  And what is Musa even talking about disappointment, does she mean Riven’s leaving or the annoying way he’s been acting since he got back? What does she even want him to do?  I railed on Riven for handling things badly but Musa isn’t doing any better!  Don’t make remote hints that you want something from a guy while snubbing him!  Just say he’s got no chance or you need some time or whatever and get things clean between you.

Boy that was a lot of Musa/Riven drama for one episode!  I guess at least it’s better than Bloom/Sky drama!  (though I hear that’s coming later...)