#Signa Answers

[signatureartsblug]

Pretty sad Luffy

Kinda mad Law, together

I love how they turned out to be so fucking for real-

Here's the Chart If you guys want to Request One Piece Characters (Or even OCs)

[thehighcommandersignas]

Commander Headcanon

It's of no surprise that the Commander of the Hunters is a gentleman. But, it depends on which sex encounters him. Male humans do not like Signas. Some believe him to be quite a prude, distant, and even arrogant. However, female humans find him to be charming, kind, and handsome. This is because Signas has a philosophy that all men have certain standards to keep, such as being disciplined, level-headed, and centered. He finds men that get too easily riled up, have a temper, and/or are quick to retaliate as weak-minded at worst. At best, they're just having a bad day, but they need to stand tall and brush off the annoyances.

When it comes to women, Signas is much gentler and more soft-spoken toward them. He even displays certain mannerisms around them. For example, if there is a conference and women are attending, he will remain standing until they finally take their seats. Even if he has to enter their offices to give an assignment, he will take off his helmet out of respect. He also opens doors for them.

Male humans have observed his behavior and they dislike it. As some of the younger males disdainfully gossip about the Commander, they say that he's "raising the bar" and is making the dating scene harder for them. However, some married women share with one another that they wish their husbands were as polite as Signas. Younger women admire the Commander and tend to seek his behavior in other men.

Basically, Signas treats men as if they were soldiers, and Signas treats women as if they were royalty.

[answers-of-the-heart]

Signa here! Me and The Heart Pirates are not dead, things are just complicated right now

BUT Good news, I finished moving and I got an interview from my old job. So, we'll see how well that goes. Hoping to get it, I just want income again.

I've got a somewhat horrible set up right now so drawing schedule will be weird until we get an apartment. Because I'm already killing my back just from doing the Huevembers on my Art Blog.

I'm trying my best trying to draw replies but I got overwhelmed. (Not just the ask blog thing, just IRL type stuff and huevember) But I do have most of the replies planned out.

ALSO I hsve a Kofi!! If you're interested in supporting my art, just treat Kofi as a tip Jar or a Request Tip Jar and I'd post the result on my art blog.

@signatureartsblug <- Art Blog

But for now, on this ask blog, ASK BOX IS CLOSED UNTIL I AM CAUGHT UP!

Please be patient with me _/Zo

Love, Signa.

PS: I'm so sorry for being a ghost, @ask-straw-hat-luffy

[fannedandflawless]

The Uniform Was Armour

An attire analysis of Severus Snape, as portrayed by Alan Rickman

What does it mean to wear forty buttons every day? To choose black not for fashion, but for function? To wrap yourself in discipline and precision while others wear colour and comfort?

I’ve been studying Severus Snape’s wardrobe across every film—and what began as curiosity quickly turned into full analytical obsession. Because beneath that iconic silhouette is an entire philosophy stitched in wool, linen, and silence.

Let’s talk about it.

👔 The Buttons, Layers, and Surprising Realism of Snape’s Wardrobe

Yes, I’ve zoomed in. Repeatedly. Across every film, from Philosopher’s Stone to Deathly Hallows, I’ve counted his buttons—frame by frame, button by button, layer by layer. Let’s just say—I’ve become very familiar with this frock coat’s construction.

And darling, here’s the breakdown:

3 unbuttoned at the collar

9 buttoned down the front

10 per sleeve

4 per leg

🧮 Total: 40 buttons.

Forty. Let that settle in your bones.

On set, most were decorative—Alan Rickman wasn’t fastening all forty by hand. Hidden zippers, snap closures—clever costume design. (This is based on standard film costuming practices—where elaborate garments are often modified for ease of dressing with hidden closures. No official quote confirms this for Snape's outfit specifically, but it aligns with how similar costumes are constructed.) But in-universe? If the real Severus Snape wore this...

It’s safe to assume he used a spell. Realistically, no one’s spending fifteen minutes every morning fastening forty buttons—not even Severus Snape. He had essays to mark, potions to brew, and a corridor presence to maintain.

And oh, that presence.

—

🧥 The Full Layer Breakdown (Based on Alan Rickman’s Film Costume and Button-by-Button Image Zooming)

1. White high-collared shirt – stiff, sharp, and always buttoned to the throat. Clean. Severe. Scholar-coded.

+ Black cravat or neckcloth – visible in several key scenes (notably when inspecting the cursed necklace and seated with the Dark Lord). Likely silk or satin. It adds formality and structure, anchoring the layers while communicating a quiet, old-world elegance.

2. Inner black buttoned layer – possibly a waistcoat or inset panel. Tailored close. Minimal.

3. Frock coat – double-breasted with 14 visible buttons. Structured. Commanding. The real statement piece.

4. Long open-front robe – that iconic swirl. When he enters a room, it follows like a shadow.

5. Straight black trousers – clean-cut, no nonsense.

6. Tall black boots – polished leather, confident heel.

7. (Possibly) sewn-in underlayer for structure – subtle but significant.

—

🪡 What Could the Fabrics Be?

Shirt: Cotton or stiff linen—light but architectural. Holds the collar high.

Inner layer/waistcoat: Lightweight wool or twill—close fit, breathable, efficient.

Frock coat: Wool blend or gabardine—thick, silent, unmistakable.

Robe: Wool or silk-blend—fluid with weight, designed for drama.

Trousers: Soft wool or worsted—no embellishments, just utility.

Boots: Black leather—lived-in, lacquered, ready to move.

The entire ensemble whispers: do not underestimate me.

—

🔥 How Did He Survive the Heat?

All black. All layered. All day. In July? (Or August, depending on the school calendar—but we’ll get to that heatstroke later.)

The answer is geography. He lived in the dungeons.

The Slytherin common room sits beneath the Black Lake—stone walls, filtered light, the occasional squid gliding past. Cold enough to preserve potions and secrets alike.

So yes—he wore forty buttons and never broke a sweat. Because the walls were colder than any seasonal breeze. And honestly? So was he.

—

🧼 How Many Did He Own?

We never see his wardrobe, but let’s be honest—he’d need more than one. You don’t brew over a cauldron daily without carrying the scent of asphodel and burnt fluxweed for hours. Add parchment ink, dust from centuries-old tomes, a hint of candle soot—and you’ve got a potion master’s signature scent.

And let’s not forget: Hermione Granger literally set fire to his robes in Philosopher’s Stone—whether it was the hem or that slightly fluffy bit at his ankle, the damage was real. There can’t have been just one. Not in a school full of reckless students and volatile substances.

These garments weren’t just iconic—they were functional. And surely duplicated.

Three, at minimum. Five, if he allowed himself the luxury. All identical. All immaculate. Possibly with a charm or two to keep the folds crisp and the fabric warded.

—

🧣 The One Exception—His Layer for Weather

Across eight films and countless scenes, Severus Snape’s uniform never truly wavered—except once, perhaps twice.

In Philosopher’s Stone, during the infamous Quidditch match where he counter-cursed Quirrell’s jinx, he wore something different:

A high black scarf

Fingerless black gloves

A heavier, textured outer cloak—draped and more tactical

It’s the only time we see his silhouette altered so clearly.

Still black, still formal, but slightly more utilitarian. Weather-appropriate, perhaps? November in the high stands of the Quidditch pitch must’ve been brutal—wind cutting, robes whipping. Most students wore house scarves not just for pride, but to survive the chill.

So yes, that scarf and heavier cloak weren’t just stylistic flourishes. They were practical, protective, and quietly prepared.

Either way, it stood apart—and not just in costume. In that moment, he was cast as the villain, misunderstood and brooding in layers.

And I must wonder—where did that cloak go? At first glance, I assumed it had been lost to the flames of Hermione’s accidental sabotage in Philosopher’s Stone. A dramatic end to a singular garment.

But then—rewatching Goblet of Fire—there it was again. During the Hungarian Horntail trial, Snape sits beside McGonagall, and if you look closely: folded cuffs, denser weave, a broader drape over his shoulders. The silhouette is unmistakable.

The scarf and gloves are gone, but the cloak’s presence speaks volumes. Not flashy, but deliberate. A return not for spectacle, but for utility. Its weight, its shape, the quiet precision in its fit—nearly identical.

So no—it wasn’t destroyed. Not gone. Not forgotten. Simply reserved. Practical. Intentional.

Another glimpse into how even the rare deviations in his attire still follow a purpose. Nothing is ever random with Severus Snape.

Still all black, still stern—but there’s something in the added structure that reads more formal. Less dungeon-brewer, more event overseer. It’s functional, wind-resistant, and dignified in a cold, open-air setting.

Perhaps it was kept for outdoor events—or those requiring a touch more presence. It reminds us that even the most stoic wardrobe had its layers—and that nothing Severus Snape wore was ever without intent.

Even when the silhouette shifted slightly, the reasoning didn’t. Whether reserved for specific events or dictated by weather, every layer had purpose. He was always watching. Always calculating. Always protecting.

—

🖤 What the Uniform Meant: Endurance as Identity

The choice to wear such rigid attire wasn’t just style—it was declaration. It was discipline. It was Severus Snape, sealing himself into something he could control.

"It is endurance. Conditioning. Discipline—of body and mind. This attire is not meant for ease. It is meant for containment."

That’s how I imagine he would have spoken of it, if ever asked. With restraint. With precision. With the same measured control that shaped his every movement.

He didn’t wear black because he liked the colour. He wore it because black absorbs. It doesn’t reflect, doesn’t shine, doesn’t distract. It takes.

And if someone ever questioned the heat? The weight of so many layers?

"If I wear less… I feel more." "And for someone who has spent most of his life bearing what others cast off, that is… not always bearable."

It was never about temperature. It was about endurance as aesthetic. About turning vulnerability into fabric. A way of saying: I will bear what others shed.

To wear layers was to keep the world at a distance. To button forty buttons was to remind himself: control is chosen. Every day.

"There is a certain power in being the only one who does not wilt under pressure. Let them sweat. Let them squirm. I remain."

Snape didn’t need robes that breathed. He needed robes that held.

Because the man beneath them had spent a lifetime feeling too much. And hiding it all in plain sight.

And somehow, it worked.

He endured.

And never once did his silhouette flinch.

[goddessinnerglow]

Become Your Best Version Before 2025 - Day 23

Personal Style & Self-Presentation

Hi Goddesses! Let's talk about something that can be both super fun and slightly overwhelming, developing your personal style. This isn't about following trends or completely overhauling your wardrobe. It's about discovering and expressing who you are through how you present yourself to the world.

You know that feeling when you put on an outfit and just feel like you? That's what we're aiming for, not just occasionally, but every day. Whether you're a minimalist who loves basics, a maximalist who lives for patterns, or somewhere in between, your style should make you feel confident and comfortable in your own skin.

Let's break this down into areas where your personal style shines through:

Your Physical Space: Notice how some people's homes or workspaces instantly tell you something about them? That's personal style in action. Start by choosing one small area, maybe your desk or bedside table, and arrange it in a way that feels uniquely you. Maybe you love minimalism, or perhaps you're drawn to cozy chaos. There's no wrong answer!

Communication Style: Some people tell detailed stories, others are direct and brief. Some use lots of gestures, others are more reserved. Your communication style is part of your personal brand. Pay attention to when you feel most natural in conversations, that's often your authentic style peeking through.

Digital Presence: Whether it's your social media, emails, or work presentations, your digital presence is an extension of your personal style. Does your online presence feel aligned with who you are?

Body Language: Your posture, gestures, and how you move through space all contribute to your personal style. Try this: When you're feeling great, notice your natural body language. That's your authentic style in motion!

Alright, now for the fun part you’ve been waiting for: bringing your inner self to life through the way you dress! Your style should feel like an extension of you, not a costume you put on. When you choose clothes that reflect how you truly feel and who you are inside, that’s when everything aligns. Your confidence, your energy, and your authenticity will shine through, and you’ll feel more like yourself than ever before.

First steps to finding your style:

Notice what catches your eye

Pay attention to compliments you receive

Think about your lifestyle needs

Consider your comfort level

Remember your favorite outfits

Finding Inspiration to Create your style vision:

Make Pinterest boards by category

Save Instagram posts that inspire you

Notice patterns in what you save

Look at your favorite influencers' style

Take photos of outfits you love wearing

Understanding Your Style. Ask yourself:

What makes you feel confident?

Which colors brighten your mood?

What fabrics feel good on your skin?

What's practical for your daily life?

What represents your personality?

Building Your Wardrobe:

Choose a core color palette

Invest in quality basics

Find your perfect fit

Know your power pieces

Identify gaps to fill

Smart Shopping Tips:

Create a wishlist

Research before buying

Check fabric quality

Consider cost per wear

Sleep on big purchases

Keep your style accessible:

Group by category

Color coordinate

Make everything visible

Keep a donate box ready

Maintain seasonal rotations

Mix and Match. Creating endless outfits:

Learn your outfit formulas

Use the rule of three

Play with proportions

Experiment with layering

Accessorize thoughtfully

Beyond the Clothes. Complete self-presentation:

Develop a skincare routine

Maintain good grooming

Practice good posture

Keep clothes well-maintained

Pay attention to details

Growing with your style:

Adapt to life changes

Try new combinations

Update key pieces

Experiment safely

Trust your instincts

Quick ways to feel put-together:

Plan outfits ahead

Have go-to combinations ready

Keep shoes clean

Maintain accessories

Press key pieces

Creating Your Signature Look. What makes you, you:

Choose signature accessories

Find your perfect silhouettes

Know your best colors

Identify your style words

Discover your signature scent

Practical Style Tips:

Pack a backup outfit

Keep an emergency kit

Master quick fixes

Know your best angles

Plan for important days

Your Challenge for today:

Create a style mood board

Try a new combination from your closet

Remove three items you never wear

Take photos of your favorite outfits

Write down your style words

Remember these key principles:

Your style can evolve as you do

Authenticity trumps trends every time

Comfort and confidence are non-negotiable

Small tweaks can make big differences

Your style should support your goals and lifestyle

See you tomorrow for Day 24! Don't forget, the best style is the one that makes you feel like your most authentic self.

♡ ☆:.｡ Keep glowing, babes! ♡ ☆:.｡ With love, Goddess Inner Glow.

[animemangasoul]

Why Me?

Summery: Boris and Kai are stuck together in Hiwatari Enterprise trying to not get themselves killed by hired mercenaries. Boris so did not sign up for this.

Chapter: 2/2

Kai doesn’t answer right away.

And frankly Boris doesn’t expect him to, but damn it, he needs him to. Finally, the other teen’s lips part slightly just to press into a thin line, brow furrowing like he’s struggling to hold onto something just beyond his reach.

Boris resists the urge to shake him. Barely.

''Hiwatari,'' he grits out instead, voice sharp, urgent, because they really don’t have time for this. ''Come on, focus.''

Kai inhales sharply through his nose and lets it out slowly. Fingers twitching against Boris' sleeve; that he's still holding onto Boris thinks. 'He's still holding onto my sleeve,' and he tries not to focus on that, as Kai forces himself to sit up straighter, teeth clenched.

''We’re in the lower east quadrant,'' he says, voice raspy, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing spit and sweat and God knows what else. ''Maintenance tunnels run parallel under this level.''

Noding sharply, mind already spinning through possibilities, Boris furrows his brows. ''And the access point?''

Kai’s throat bobs as he swallows, the words slower this time, like it takes effort just to keep them coming. Fuck, fuck fuck. How is this happening to them? ''Should be… two halls down, west corridor. Ladder access.''

'I can work with that,' he thinks, dragging a hand through his sweat-slick hair, fingers threading into knots he doesn’t have the luxury of caring about right now. ''And where do those tunnels lead?''

''South exit.'' Kai sways slightly and Boris' grip on his arm tightens before the idiot can slump forward completely. ''Near the docks.''

He pulls himself away from Kai, putting a  bit of distant between them to think, but not too far. He needs to catch the idiot if he falls over after all. ''And you’re just telling me this now?”

Arm falling down at his side, palm up, almost as if his body didn't fully understand why Boris was no longer there; it makes Boris throat dry, Kai slants him a glare, but it lacks the usual heat, tired and worn down at the edges. ''Didn’t think it would be useful until now.''

Oh for the love of everything---- Boris resists the urge to curse him out, really truly, with all the power in the world resists. And maybe half the reason is because they don't have time for that nonsense right now and maybe the other half is because…….fine, whatever, at least they have an actual escape plan now. A way out.

If they can make it that far that is.

He shifts in place, his knee throbs in protest. He barely manages to swallow down a wince.

''Whatever Hiwatari,'' he mutters, clenching his jaw and pushing himself to his feet, ignoring the way the room lurches dangerously around him. He’s running on fumes and pure spite at this point, but it’ll have to be enough. ''Let's just get the fuck out of here.''

''For once,'' the other says, blinking slughly up at him. ''We agree.''

Asshole.

''Shut up, Hiwatari,'' he says, crouching back down to sling one of Kai’s arms over his shoulder. ''Up you go.''

Kai barely stifles a wince but doesn’t resist, though the second he’s vertical, his entire frame trembles against Boris’ side.

Boris swears under his breath. ''You’re fucking dead weight, you know that?''

Kai huffs a weak laugh. ''And yet… you’re still here.''

He flushes red at that, refusing to dignify it with a response because fuck him. Boris is only still here because Yuriy wouldn't ever let him hear the end of it if he abandoned the jerk and made a run for it on his own. Instead, he puts all his energy of violently wanting to dropkick Kai, into getting them to the damn door without either of them keeling over.

When they finally get there, and damn it all, why does everything take so much effort all of a sudden. He presses his ear to the metal again, listening for any movement beyond it. Footsteps, voices, anything that might signal an immediate threat.

Nothing.

For now.

He exhales, shoulders sagging ever so slightly in relief, and he shifts Kai’s weight against him, free hand reaching for the handle. ''Alright, we move fast and quiet. No bullshit.''

Kai makes a vague noise in response, but Boris isn't waiting for a confirmation and is already pushing the door open, leading them into the dimly lit corridor. Ignoring the churning feeling in his stomach that Kai really really does not look good. The man is practically deadweight at his side. Fuck, if he dies---- He violently shoves the thought off a cliff and keeps moving.

Each step is an exercise in patience and pain. Boris can feel the strain in every movement, the way his knee protests the added weight, but he ignores it. They just need to make it to the tunnels. As long as they make it there, their chances increase exponentially. Just make it to the tunnels. They could do that. They had to do that.

Like that they pass one intersection, then another. The halls stretch ahead, eerily silent, too much like a waiting trap for Boris’ liking. It makes his skin crawl to the point he wants to rip it off. They make it about three-quarters of the way there; so far so good, when Kai stiffens at his side.

Boris doesn’t ask. Doesn't have to ask, he knows the other too well. So he just ducks into the nearest doorway and presses them both flat against the wall, his pulse hammering in his ears. Face bent down, only hairbreadth from Kai's ear, listening to his wheezing exhales, the hammering off his heart against his ribs, they wait it out. For a long while they don't dare to move, still as a mouse. The weak grip Kai has on his elbow the only indication the other was still conscious which despite his best efforts, gave him a modicum of relief.

Seconds later, the sound of boots echoes through the corridor.

Boris holds his breath. Feels the minute tremble of Kai’s muscles against his own.

A pair of voices filter through the hallway, close, too fucking close.

''Boss says to sweep this level one more time. Make sure the Hiwatari boy hasn't come this way.''

Boris meets Kai’s gaze and sees the same thing reflected back at him.

Shit.

But also, hold on. Hiwatari boy? The fuck? Disrespectful much. Man he hates Vitaly and his dumb crew.

Kai's grip tightens on Boris’ sleeve then, his breathing shallow; breaking him out of his musing. Ah right. He shifts just enough to glance around the edge of the doorway, heart hammering as he counts the shadows moving down the hall.

Two men. Armed. Focused, but not expecting trouble.

That could work in their favour. Or get them killed.

Boris clenches his jaw, weighing their options. Running is out. Fighting? Even worse. His knee is shot, Kai’s barely standing, and there’s no telling how many more of these assholes are lurking nearby.

He turns back to Kai, keeping his voice low. ''How close are we to the access point?''

For a second there is no response. Kai staring blankly at a spot to his far left. 'He looks half dead,' his mind whispers to him and Boris none too gently tells it to shut up before tapping the other on the forehead, harshly. ''Oi,'' he hisses. ''Hiwatari, how close are we to the access point?''

Finally, finally the gaze shift to meet his own and Kai blinks back to reality. ''Next turn….. Ten, maybe fifteen meters?''

Okay, that is not good. It might as well be a mile with the way his knee is decidedly on a break for the foreseeable future. They need a new plan and fast. Maybe he could leave Kai here and run out to distract them? If push came to shove he could probably take the two of them before they did too much damage or called for help. Make a run for it after? But the question left then was, could Kai make it to the access point on his own without him? Glancing back at the lulling head dangerously close to hitting his chest, nope, that was not going to happen.

Back to square one then. Hide and pray for a miracle. Yay. Didn't help with each second he's wasted, the guards kept on drawing nearer.

Eventually they come to a stop, a stop just short of their hiding spot, boots scuffing against the concrete. One of them mutters something about checking the basement, Boris is just about to leap out and tackle them when---

A static crackle. A voice from one of their radios. ''We’ve got movement near the stairwell. West sector.''

Oh thank God. Boris doesn’t know who the hell just saved their asses, but he could kiss them right now.

The two mercs look to be exchanging a few words before one clicks his radio in response. ''Copy that. Moving in.''

And just like that, they’re gone, footsteps fading as they move down the hall. Boris lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, waiting a few more seconds before nudging Kai. ''Come on. Let's go.'' They stagger forward, moving as quickly as their battered bodies allow. Every step sends a jolt of pain up Boris’ leg, but he grits his teeth and keeps going, half-dragging Kai along with him.

How fucking far is this stupid, annoying, life-saving-----

An, there it is. The access point is exactly where Kai said it would be; a rusted metal grate in the floor, bolted down but old enough to pry open with some effort.

Boris crouches down, biting back a groan as he wedges his fingers under the edge, muscles straining. ''Any day now, Hiwatari, tell me this thing actually opens.''

Kai drops beside him, breath hitching as he fumbles for the edge, missing it completely before giving up and leaning against the wall instead. Likely smearing it with blood too, the asshole. ''It does,'' he grits out. ''Just… needs force.''

After some effort and Kai's incessant whining, he manage to wrench it free, the metal groaning in protest. Cool, stale air rushes up from below. Fucking finally.

"Follow me," he grunts, beads of sweat plastering his hair, nearly covering his line of sight. He couldn't be bothered pushing it back. Instead he swings his legs over the edge and climbs down the ladder halfway before pausing. "Come on," he urges, reaching up.

Kai doesn’t argue. Boris wonders if he's even there enough to argue. But keeps his mouth shut, watching as the other swings his legs over the edge, movements sluggish but resolute.

As he lowers himself, Boris steadies him, gripping his waist to make sure he doesn’t slip. Only when Kai has a firm hold on the rungs does Boris release him, keeping close as they descend.

'This is taking too long,' he thinks but doesn't rush. Rushing will just result in them both falling and if they did---

Boris drops to the ground, biting his tongue not to hiss as his knee jostles before reaching up, ignoring Kai's protest and hauling him down. The other is already leaning heavily against the damp stone wall, breath coming in short, uneven bursts, by the time he's gone up and sealed off the access point again. Boris slides down the wall and drops down next to him, wheezing, trying to blink away the dark spots dancing in his vision.

For a second, they just sit there, trying to put themselves back together.

Then Boris pushes himself up with a grimace. ''Alright, Hiwatari,'' he says. ''Let’s get the fuck out of here.''

Kai nods, a beat too slow, rolling his shoulders as if that alone will keep him upright. It won’t, but Boris doesn’t point that out. They don’t have time and his nerves are too shot at this point to be anything but high strung. He rather not make that obvious.

The tunnel stretches ahead, damp and narrow, the air thick with the scent of rust and stagnant water. Boris fights down a grimace, adjusting his grip on Kai’s arm. ''Which way?''

Kai lifts a shaking hand, pointing south. ''Follow… the main line. Should open up near the docks.''

Nodding once, he starts moving, dragging Kai along which was seriously becoming a habit he was growing to despise. The uneven ground makes his knee scream in protest, but he grits his teeth and forces himself forward. One step at a time. One breath at a time.

Somewhere above them, muffled voices echo. The mercs, still searching.

Fuck.

Boris picks up the pace, keeping his breathing even despite the fire spreading through his muscles. The tunnel is mostly straight, but every so often, pipes jut from the walls, forcing them to weave around obstacles. It slows them down. Every wasted second sets his nerves on edge.

Then, up ahead; a junction. Three paths.

Boris tightens his grip on Kai’s arm. ''Which one?''

Kai doesn’t answer right away. His head tilts slightly, like he’s listening, thinking, before finally rasping, ''Left.''

He immediately turns that way leading them down the left tunnel. It slopes downward, slick with condensation, and Boris barely manages to keep his footing. Kai stumbles once, twice, but Boris yanks him upright before he can go down completely.

''Stay with me, Hiwatari,'' he says, more to keep himself focused than anything, voice echoing against the walls.

''Trying,'' is the response he gets and fuck if a nonargumentative Kai seriously is starting to freak him out.

The tunnel stretches on, but then, finally, the outline of a heavy metal grate comes into view, a faint breeze whispering through the gaps.

An exit.

Relief surges through Boris like few things have ever done before, but it’s short-lived. The grate is rusted, bolted down just like the last one.

Fuck.

And behind them, the distant sound of movement.

Boris doesn’t hesitate. He leans Kai against the wall and crouches, 'Ignore the pain, ignore the nausea, ignore the vomit crawling up your throat. Ignore everything. Focus, focus Boris. You got this.' He wedges his fingers under the edge. He pulls. The metal groans, resisting, but he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let himself stop.

Kai drops beside him then, and since when had he moved? And why was he moving, he was hurt the fucking idiot. Hands bracing against the damp stone as he adds his weight. Their combined strength is just enough for the bolts snap, the grate jerking free with a final screech of protest.

Boris exhales hard, shoving it aside. Beyond the opening, a narrow spillway leads out into open air. The docks.

A way out.

Fucking finally. Finally. He might have actually cried if such nonsense hadn't been beaten out of him a long time ago.

Instead he turns to grin at Kai, pushing him forward, ''Out.''

Kai doesn’t argue. Just hauls himself through, landing unsteady but upright. Boris follows, gritting his teeth as he pulls himself out, lungs burning with exertion.

The night air hits him like a shock; cool and sharp, thick with salt from the harbour. In the distance, the glow of city lights flickers through the fog, barely visible past the looming warehouses.

And then; a voice. Familiar. Urgent.

''Boris! Kai!''

Boris’ head snaps up just as a figure breaks through the shadows. Yuriy, moving fast, flanked by two officers with weapons drawn. They're making their way down the farthest staircase west of them and---

Relief crashes over Boris so hard he almost sags in place. Almost.

They are safe. They made it. Kai wasn't going to die and he---

Kai’s fingers curl against the back of his neck then, not pulling, just pressing. It startles him. The touch. It's brief, barely there, but it lingers, thumb brushing the scruff of his hair, fingertips almost patting his nape. It brings back memories of the past, of silent gratitude in a way Kai will never voice. 'Oh,' he thinks, eyes suddenly irritatingly itchy. 'Oh.'

He doesn’t shrug him off. Just lets it happen, allows the moment to settle as they watch Yuriy's figure draw closer, before finally exhaling and muttering, ''I'll never be backup for you ever again.''

A sharp laughter that descends into a coughing fit follows and Boris hates how Yuriy arrives just as he's pleading with the asshole to breathe, rubbing his back like a fucking mother-hen.

Fuck, he's so not going to live this down. Especially since this time Kai fucking Hiwatari decides he's done coughing a lung rather quickly, not like before when he'd given him a scare of a lifetime. Wiping his mouth and giving Yuriy a ghost of a smile.

Fuck him.

''Took you long enough,'' he snaps at his friend, shoving Kai into the nearest officer with a scowl that could scare the dead. Ignoring the startled protest.

His friend grins, all sharp teeth and amused eyes. ''Looks like you were handling yourself just fine.''

''Fuck you.''

1, 2

[theladyhibiscus]

Commander Headcanon (probably 2!) Time

Signas wears cologne.

"Why? Why?" The Hunters ask.

"I want to smell nice." Signas answers and they're so confused because it sounds like their Commander didn't quite answer their question.

Signas was the only Reploid built closest to X. In other words, he underwent a similar testing phase as X did, but it wasn't as long as X's. His was only about 10-13 years when X's was over 30. So, Signas acts more "human" than most of the other Reploids in comparison. This means he also developed some quirks, such as taking a liking to some scents, human foods (he prefers sweets), colors, and activities. In addition, Signas and X almost act similarly in some ways, and they get along wonderfully, nearly matching X's friendship level with Zero.

So, due to his quirks that resulted from his extensive diagnostics testing, Signas likes certain scents that he associates with himself. He enjoys aromas of cinnamon, sandalwood, cloves, cotton, rainfall, vanilla, and sugar.

So, when somebody is working alongside the Commander, they will detect a faint note of autumnal cinnamon sugar or the clean, brisk scent of linen and sandalwood. It really depends on how he's feeling that week.

[hopefulvittori]

Kindled emotions

Pinocchio (Lies of P) x OC/Reader

Angst/Fluff

So this is my very first fanfiction... To be honest, I was kinda afraid to post it at first, but every starts are always the hardest. Sorry about my english in advance, I'm not a native speaker. I only created this blog as a placeholder because AO3 has a pretty long inv queue nowadays. As soon as I have an account, I'll post my upcoming fics here and there. :)

As his journey goes on, the puppet of Geppetto starts to experience fear and doubts about his circumstances. Luckily, a certain helpful falcon helps to take that despair away.

──────────

Pain wasn't foreign for the puppet of Geppetto. At least not anymore. He noticed a few changes ever since he started his journey. It hurt him when the frenzied puppets hit him with a candle holder or a shovel. Or when the monster-turned infectees latched themselves onto him. 

Yet, this kind of pain was different. It came from his chest area. It was suffocating. 

Ever since he dealt with the Black Rabbit Brotherhood and saw that painting, he's been thinking a lot. Every time he was close to shutting down, the woman in blue always stayed time's hand from claiming him. And despite his struggles, he always saw his father - his creator - watching that portrait with melancholic fondness. Oh, how he wished that his only family would've looked at him with similar tenderness...

He started to feel fear. Fear from the uncertainties of his time-manipulating circumstances. What if the next of his perilous endeavours will be the last? What would his father think of him then? Will he be sad? Disappointed, maybe both? Questions, yet no answers.

"Are you okay, pal? You've been spacing out a lot lately." Gemini asked him with a worried tone. His green light flickered in the dark streets of Rose Isabelle.

It was all true. He has been extra cautious when it comes to his stalking. Krat was certainly a dangerous place to live by, especially with these frenzying puppets and monsters around. Despite that, although slightly, his non-legion hand was shaking. He couldn't feel the sword in his hand the way he held it before. His cerulean gaze was glued to the ground. 

He felt cold...

"H-hey! Watch where you're going or else we'll be--!" Even though the puppet guide in the lamp tried to warn him, the encounter was inevitable. A large number of frenzied puppets fell from a storeyed house. Screaming like wild animals, they were lunging themselves towards the puppet of Geppetto. He reacted as quickly as he could and turned his back on his desired destination. Although he avoided getting clobbered by the puppets, he couldn't stop one of them latching itself onto his leg. Trashing against his captor, the boy managed to get himself free and cut it down with a single powerful strike. Then he ran away with the feeling of hopelessness and confusion.

He didn't even notice that lack of the lantern's green glimmer. The hostile puppet managed to grab Gemini and drop it to the ground. It couldn't see where the puppet boy ran off to nor warn its partner in crime as the impact managed to turn it off.

───── ⋆ ─────

The Falcon felt quite tired after spending the night on the streets of Krat, getting rid of the maddened puppets. With each strike, her indigo dress was painted with oil. She felt the taste of iron in her mouth. It sickened her. 

Separating her lance into two blades, she finished her work on the last two or three automatons. Electric sparks lightened the darkness as her enemies lifelessly fell into the cold stones. She sighed in relief while sheathed her swords. She saw no other puppets on the streets. None, except one. The Falcon noticed a familiar lanter lying on the ground. Its side was kinda battered.

"Cricky? What happened?" She asked as she picked up the lantern. No response. The lack of his peculiar green light worried her. Then she suddenly remembered how its owner turned it on and off. She looked for a button on its side. With a "click" and its signature green spark, the lantern turned on. 

"T-t-tori?" Though her distorted voice surprised the stalker, she was more annoyed about calling her that silly nickname.

"What happened to you?" She asked. 

"I-i don't know. There were... so many puppets and... and..." He said with fearful hesitation.

The Falcon looked around, searching for the signs of Gemini's owner. Did the puppets get him? He was pretty much inseparable from his lantern. Something bad must've happened.

"Where is Speckles?" She asked slowly. 

"I'm... n-not sure. One of the puppets grabbed me a-and... and..." Even though it felt kinda impossible, Gemini sounded like it was in despair. Its entire purpose was to guide its owner. Without him, no wonder it sounded so lost.

The Falcon grabbed the lantern and strapped it on her belt. Her hand rested on its form as some comfort of sorts. She didn't say anything but started her search for the puppet of Geppetto. She knew his nature. He was pretty much an Ergo-harvesting automaton. She always felt the sweet scent of life on him. It was both of her blessing and curse to being attuned to those souls, feeling their desires as her own. She followed that odor of the puppet's Ergo. She always found his scent quite nostalgic. Like settling around a fireplace after getting away from the cold rain or snow. It was warm. 

She stalked around Rose Isabelle streets for almost an hour. Luckily, she felt it. The scent of Ergo got a lot stronger inside of an abandoned storeyed house. She was careful though. Her steps were light as a feather when she started searching through the home. There she heard it: a quiet but hasty heaving. It came from a bedroom. The Falcon doubled her steps, carefully opening the door. Then she slightly gasped at the sight that awaited her. 

The puppet of Geppetto sat before a bed. His frozen expression was lightened in the fireplace's gentle gleam. It was subtle, but his eyes were staring forward in shock. Lips parted and gasped for air. 

It seemed that he was searching for some sort of solace. To remind himself of the comfort of his home. Yet despite his endeavors, he clearly failed to calm his nerves. 

"Speckles? What are you doing here?" The Falcon asked gently. She hoped for a response, yet the boy couldn't even look at her. The woman got closer and crouched before him. Even like that, the puppet failed to notice her presence.

Judging by his body language, he had a panic attack. The stalker didn't know that this was even possible. He was a puppet after all. Yet even though she had questions, she needed to wait for answers. 

"P?" The woman tried to call out for the boy once again. Only this time, her hand found its way to the puppet's human one. To the Falcon's surprise, it felt wet. His hand was drenched in sweat. She placed her other hand on his freckled cheek, forcing him to look at her. Despite tilting his head towards the woman, his eyes were unfocusing. 

"It's alright, P. It will pass." She said gently, stroking his cheek. "I'll stay with you until this is over."

Then she felt it. His human hand gently squeezed hers. He showed her appreciation in a way he could in this situation. She warmly smiled and sat beside him. She petted his fluffy chestnut brown hair while holding his hand.

"Try to control your breathing. It will help you calm down." She continued on as she showed it to him. "Take a big breath... keep it in for a bit... then breathe out."

She kept doing it until the puppet of Geppetto tried to do something similar. Even though he couldn't look at her, he tried to do his best to calm his breathing. His shoulders rose and fell in a more rhythmic manner.

"That's it, P. You're getting better at this. You're going to be alright." The Falcon said in an encouraging way.

His chest heaved less and his eyes became more focused. He needed a few minutes before he could finally look at her. He tilted his head a bit slightly to the right, eyebrows raised in a questioning manner. 

The Falcon smiled at him, unstrapping Gemini from her belt in the meanwhile. The boy was surprised to see his puppet guide in the hands of the stalker woman. 

"Some puppet must've snatched it. I found it after you hid here." She explained quietly, handing over the small puppet to its owner. The boy gave her a small smile as his appreciation. 

"What happened?" As she asked, his simper disappeared. He tried to avoid her stare, but the Falcon searched his gaze curiously. 

"I..." His lips were parting slowly, but no more words came out. She knew now: these feelings were beyond his comprehension. He wasn't ready yet.

The Falcon shifted and sat before the puppet boy. She grabbed his automaton arm and gently squeezed both of his hands.  

"I see now. You can't tell me, can you?" She asked quietly. 

The boy nodded curtly. 

"...Because it's something you can't exactly explain." She continued. 

He blinked a bit before nodding again. The woman averted her gaze and looked at the fireplace. 

"The flames partake in such warmth. To wash away the pain."

The puppet raised an eyebrow curiously. 

"Oh, just a phrase someone I knew used a lot..." She said with a tint of melancholy. The Falcon shook her head. "Anyway... if you have any doubts, you don't need to be afraid. I know how these new feelings and doubts can burden one's heart. But..." She gave him an encouraging look. "When you're ready to tell me about them... you know where you can find me. You can always partake in this warmth." 

This woman - this girl - intrigued him to no end. Sometimes she was witty, yet showed kindness to others. Even strangers. She was willing to sit with him, helping to understand these new emotions without asking anything in return. His doubts were washed away in those sea of flames she spoke of. As he held onto her hands, clutching them like small, fragile things, he felt... safe. Like a warm blanket, this new feeling covered his entire being.

He felt warmth...

Without hesitation, he leant towards the Falcon and gently pressed his forehead to hers. Her breath hitched as her entire body froze. His human hand shifted to stroke her long ashen brown hair. His eyes were closed as he tried to express the gratitude he had felt. Then a small smile appeared on his lips as he felt her being relaxed in his grasp. Her hand found its way to his arm as a way of support. This situation was also new to the stalker. Her kindness was appreciated. Her words didn't fall on deaf ears.

It wasn't in vain.

Realizing this, she gave out a sigh of bliss. The Falcon felt a bit light-headed from the content she had felt... or maybe from the tiredness. Her head slowly slipped from the boy's forehead onto his left shoulder. He gave her a mild puzzled look as his arms encircled around her form. Each time she sighed, her shoulders were rising. The puppet of Geppetto could've sworn he heard her snoring. He felt his gears moving a bit faster as he looked at her peaceful form. The Falcon completely tired herself out, yet she found the strength to help him. He carefully scooped her up and laid her down onto the bed. He watched her serene face as a content smile appeared on her lips.

"Geez, she is completely tired herself out. Just to look out for you." It was a genuine surprise how long Gemini has been quiet. Its voice was kinda raspy from the damage it sustained, but it survived worse situations than this. The boy was fully convinced that it was fine when the puppet guide suggested to draw a mustache and a monocle on her face. With a deadpan face, he reached for his lantern.

"Imagine her reaction, that would be price... Wait wait! I was kidd--" With a loud "click", Gemini was turned off. The puppet of Geppetto quietly sighed as he sat down next to Falcon's resting form.

Morning wasn't coming any time soon. He could wait until down to make sure she gets some rest. As he watched her defenseless form, his hand reached for hers. He gave her a last squeeze before standing up and reaching for the door.

"Sweet dreams."

──────────

In the original storybook, the Falcon was a minor character. It was the Blue Fairy's helper who rescued Pinocchio from hanging. I thought it would be a neat idea to put P in a similar but symbolic situation. He was literally suffocating from his fears and doubts until the Falcon tried to make those feelings go away. :) Btw my OC just loves giving nicknames yet she hates being called Tori (her real name is Vittori, her nickname means "bird" in japanese).

Once again, sorry for any grammatical errors. I hope you enjoyed this story filled with angst and fluff!

[mossyscavern]

Home? A place where I can go…

___________________

“… I’m upset but I’m glad you convinced me to get in the speed demon.”

“It’s a truck, not a speed demon.” Edwards says, shutting the truck door closed on the drivers side, before walking the side of the… back passenger? Definitely back passenger.

“Aight, c’mon now.” He said, lifting me out before placing me back down on the foot path. ���Right, here we are, the police & ranger station.”

He gestures, pointedly at the small building with the police & rangers sign out front… the building made me a bit uncomfortable for some reason.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be just your signature and thumb print on some forms, I’ll do the rest.” He said, ruffling my hair. When we entered…

It’s not as overwhelming as I thought it would be, there’s a couple of men in blue.. and women? What??

“Edwards, how much has changed exactly?” I quietly ask. “A lot, women got rights and now have jobs.. reason for that is they’re more strategic and organised than boys.. I-it’s complicated really.”

He answers just as quietly as well, guiding me to one of the chairs outside what I assume is an office. “Ok, stay here and I’ll be out to get you in a minute, ok?”

“Ok but.. you don’t have to lie, just tell me the truth.” I suggest, surprising Edwards. “Hm… ok, it’ll be at least 10 minutes or more. I brought this to pass the time.” He says giving me another books to read. “Stay here, ok?”

I nodded, Edwards nods as well, knocked on the door and disappeared into the room with the occasional greeting from another voice.

I read through this surprisingly interesting book which kind of has an error in it… a lot. So I assume the other ‘she’ is actually a ‘he’. Halfway through the book heard a ‘hey.’ With a tap on my shoulder.

I turned and saw another boy. Sandy hair, blue… hoodie? Was it? Dark jeans and sneakers. Thank you modern books. “What’re you here for?” He asked, crossing his arms.

“… what?” I ask. “What’d you do to get in trouble with the fuzz, here?” The kid asks, pointing with his thumb at the two police offers talking. “Uh… nothing, I’m here for Identification and citizenship paperwork.” I told him.

“Oh.. they still do that here? You’re new..?” He asks, tilting his head. “… no, I lived here my whole life.” I said to him. “Really? Then how come I haven’t seen you at school?” He asks once more, squinting his eyes at me.

“I… wasn’t aware there’s a school here.” I said to him, not sure what to say.. in the end he shrugs and slouches in the chair. That can’t be comfortable. “Homeschool?” He asked me. “Um… sure?” I shrug, then another thought crossed my mind.

“What did you do to end up here?” I asked, arching my brow under my mask. “Nothing too serious… stole evidence.” He mumbled the last bit, side eying the officers.

“Nothing serious?! Are you kidding me-?!!” I shout before having his hand where my mouth was supposed to be. “Shut up, it took me 3 weeks to get these!” The boy whisper shouts. “Besides, I need them.” He reasons, finally speaking a bit louder.

“Yeah but-! Wouldn’t it be easier to ask for it for your school project?” I asked. “What school project? I don’t-.” His eyes widened, looks directly at me as I pointed to my masks nose.

“Y-… you’re not going to rat me out?” He asks, arching his eyebrow. “I’ve saved my siblings many time whenever they got in trouble. Even kept secrets from certain family members.” I whispered to him, the boy smirks and nodded.

“Ok, fair response. I’m Duncan.” He introduced, hand stretched out. I smiled, widely. “Tomothy, weaver.” I said, shaking his hand. “You’re kidding.”

He says, eyes widened with an almost unnoticeable smile. “What’s there to kid about?” I ask. “Well- it’s just… man.. a weaver descendant. Crazy really.”

Duncan shrugs, hands in his pocket as he sat up in his chair, clearly less board now. “How much do you know of the disappearances in mount Todd?” He asks arching his brow at me. “Uh… Uhm.. well-.”

“Aight’ I took care of the harder parts now it just needs your signature and-.” Edwards stopped, staring down at Duncan blinking before asking. “Ok, what’d ya do now son?” He asks, Duncan sighs and rolls his eyes.

“None of your business old man.” Duncan said, resting his hands behind his head. “This is why I like to be alone… no offence Tom.” He told me, waving his hand in concern.

“None taken.” I told him, shrugging my shoulders. “You know him?” Duncan wonders, pointing towards Edwards. “Yeah, he’s a family friend… of my dad.” I said to him, cringing at the hight of my voice it went to when I lie.

“Late dad.” Edwards intervened, Duncan stared at Edwards, then me, then Edwards again before finally looking at me. “You’re one mysterious kid, Y’know that right?” He asks, arching his brow.

“… no, I didn’t know that.” I told him shaking my head. “Well, nice to meet you Tom. Hope this stupid town treats you well.” Duncan said, giving the two a salute before walking out of the room.

“C’mon, the sooner we get this done the sooner we can get that medicine and get you a new leg brace.” He reassured, I nodded, got up and handed his book back.

“Thanks for the book. But it had one too many errors.” I told him, Edwards gave me a look. “What errors?” He asks, fist on his hip. “It had two ‘she’s’ when the main character caught the eye of his love interest.”

“What are you talking about-.” He stopped. Looked at the cover, then inside the book and the slammed it shut.

“I uh… I got you the wrong book. I must’ve grabbed it when in a rush.”

He told me, scratching his head at the cover. I shrugged and smiled, giving Edwards my mask before entering the office.

“It’s ok, I enjoyed reading it.” I told him, entering the room. While shutting the door I heard him curse and saw him facepalm before sitting down.

… wonder what all that is about.

___________________

Sorry for the delay… and the long story post.

I am still continuing this story and no one can stop me! Not until Tom finally meets Sam.

Also.. a bit of context with that story Tom was given by Edwards. Old man Edwards accidentally gave Tom a book about lesbians. I don’t know which book it is I based it off of… I just want to confuse Tom before he gets the idea.

(Previous/next)

[signatureartsblug]

My wife requested a Pretty Flattered Eustass Kid uwu She helped me with the mouth-

[incantatricedibalene]

Belladonna's series

First some tecnical information that nobody is really interest in

Title = Belladonna, Foxglove, Wisteria Author = Adalyn Grace Reading period = February 2025 (7 days total)

I won't put anything else because I find this terribly boring

Overral rating

3.5/5 = an enjoyable read, each book made me want to read the next, but nothing that deeply shook/shocked me or made me think about life

Spoiler-free review

Somewhere between fantasy and horror (with a strong romantic streak) in a sort of gothic setting, these three books appear to be easily readable, with a very smooth flowing. They present some nice plot twist, especially in the first book (which is my preferred one, with what I consider the best mystery plot out of the three). In terms of romantic relationships, I preferred the second couple (third book) over the first (first book), because of the couple dynamics. Nevertheless, I did not dislike either of them and I really enjoyed the growth of the characters. Erotic scenes are present despite the fact that they are never 100% explicit (the act itself is never directly described, only implied).

WARNING, THERE MIGHT BE SPOILERS FROM NOW ON

In-depth commentary

I read the first two volumes in Italian (my native tongue) and the last one in English (as it has not yet been traslated). I found the English one much easier than expected, so I suppose that the way the book is written might be okay also for younger people, for this reason I would consider it a Young Adult.

The main characters are nice, I wouldn't go out of my way to say that I liked them all, some of them where a bit flat and uninteresting, for exemple paradoxically in the first book I preferred the secondary characters (such as Percy, Sylas and Bhlyte) over the main characters (Signa and Death).

In the second book the situation already changes, because we see a well placed growth in Signa's character, making her more enjoyable.

(FunFact about me: in the first book my favorite character is Percy, from the second Fate, and I appreciate them with immense fervor, especially Fate.)

The relationships between the characters are very varied, I do not deny the presence of some toxic bonds, but they are all shown for what they are and tend to never be romanticized.

I personally enjoyed some immensely and despised others.

Concerning the plot, I think it is very prominent in the first book, but in the second and third it gradually loses importance to give way to the characters, by which I mean that in the first volume story and characters are balanced, there is a plot underneath, a mystery that has to be revealed, in the second volume this aura of mystery disappears a little, to give way to interactions between characters that drive the story forward with their complex relationships, and in the third book this aspect of mystery is lost altogether to give way to the evolution of the two main characters.

I really enjoyed the first and the last volume (expecially the first one), the second left me a bit puzzled, as if the author did not know whether to focus the story on the event or the characters, eventually ending up making both plots a bit disappointing.

The one thing I really didn't like was that there was no answer as far as the very first mystery that is mentioned, the one that happens in the first chapter of the fist book and it's the start of everything, Signa's parents death. I honestly thought it would just be a plot device, but then the topic was brought back in the third book and then... ended up in nothing, there was no explanation as to what happened and how, the author just raised MANY questions and answered none.

Another element (character?) that I didn't appreciate is Solanine(?? sorry I can't remember how to spell her name), she appears, raises doubts and disappears. Sh doesn't do anythig, she is a pure plot device, and of this I am very disappointed because she had a lot of potential since she was connected back to the unsolved mystery I mentioned in the previous paragraph.

On the other hand I really liked and enjoyed the setting, from beginning to end, I cannot say anything negative about it. This haunting presence of plants and flowers (especially toxic/poisonous ones), these gothic/decadent descriptions of the environments, the clothes and the social rules in which the characters of the book are framed, make for somewhat enjoyable reading (I actually loved the settings don't be fooled by my bad english that tryes to stay somewhat formal)

Final ratings

plot = 3.5/5 characters = 4/5 setting = 4.5/5 relationships between characters = 3.5/5

On a personal note, the overral rating should have been 3.8, rounded up at 4, but I think it's too much for those books because they didn't really left me anythig if not the sensation of reading a good book, so I think that saying that I liked 80% of the book would be too much, 70% is more accurate

Would I recommend this book?

For anyone who wants a light, unpretentious read that doesn't go to make you think too much, absolutely yes.

On the other hand, if you are a person who is looking for suffering, despair and all those things, I wouldn't recommend it much: sure, the third book made me cry, but nothing much, I stopped crying as soon as I finished reading that part and thinking about it doesn't make me feel anything.

So I don't think those are books made to feel strong emotions, but are perfect to just pass the time with an enjoyable read.

[dankzombiereviews]

Book thoughts: Belladonna

1.5 ✰

"Life, she believed, would be much simpler if one had the answers all laid bare before them."

No shit.

spoilers ahoy (art from the author's twitter)

Idk how this author managed it, but she made the personification of death boring.

Since the beginning of oral stories, the balance of life and death is key. Death isn't inherently evil, but just a force that requires and is required for every birth. Death CANNOT be fucking around and just killing people because he wants to. That is... just wrong. It annoyed the shit out of me and I couldn't believe that the author would have a force as strong as death act so irrationally.

I adored the first 25%. Then literally nothing happened until 72% in, when Signa just (out of the blue and unjustified, imo) boned death. At the 84% mark, things fell apart as the revelations came to light. The ending was so stupid. I can't emphasize how much it bothers me when an author makes a mess of their own plot and story for the sake of a "shocking" twist. The motivation didn't even make sense! I was still so confused!

I guessed the twist that (spoilers) Sylas was death, even though it was heckin stupid. She had every right to be mad... and simply got over it? with no conversation? no communication? sure, at this point, whatever. Also, Death had the audacity to call signa smart??? when did she display this? or any characteristics that death seems to be in love with? the only way I see death attracted to her is because she can communicate and touch him, which is cool but you don't need to be making up fake reasons for why death likes her.

Since there was negative amounts of worldbuilding, I have no idea what the rules are, how death's powers were Signa's, and just in general the limitations and reasoning behind her powers. I'm fine death not being explained (obviously) but I wanna understand why she randomly gets his powers, randomly survives as a bébé, etc. It's frustrating that very little was explained. I don't care that there's a sequel, I want to understand at least a little of what's going on now, leave the plot as the sequel, not the basics of the world.

I really enjoyed the first quarter and wanted to enjoy all of it, so I am very disappointed. I shall recover, but barely.

[answers-of-the-heart]

I loved it.

Things will not be normal for a while, especially since the Big Move is happening next week. And I came home to no internet, so I drew this while that happened.

I also drew some things on paper during my vacation so, you might see those on my @signatureartsblug later or something. Debating on digitalizing them. Idk.

Please be patient. I'm dying over here, the stomach flu still has me in a chokehold, I JUST broke out of my fever.

[ao3feed-xzero]

The Question and Answer: Part 1

by dplusjluv21

After years of hunting and taking down Mavericks, X and Zero are inseparable friends, especially after Zero's death while protecting X from Vile and Sigma. However, when X finds himself in that same situation like so many years before, Zero decides he has a new trick up his sleeve, something not even X has ever heard of before: fusion

Words: 4111, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Rockman X | Mega Man X, Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M

Characters: X (Rockman Classic Universe), Zero (Rockman Classic Universe), Dr. Cain (Rockman X), Alia (Rockman X), Signas (Rockman X), Lifesaver (Rockman X)

Relationships: X/Zero (Rockman Classic Universe)

Additional Tags: this is sort of a fusion of SU and MMX?, haha get it...fusion? because it's a fusion AU? LAUGH, fusion au, why has no one ever thought about it when gems and reploids both have...gems?, this took way too long man, like im glad i finished pt 1 but goddamn

from AO3 works tagged 'X/Zero (Rockman Classic Universe)' https://ift.tt/kpwGJ97

[bllsbailey]

A Reporter Asked AG Bondi About the Signal Story During an MS-13 Presser. He Didn't Expect This Answer.

Attorney General Pam Bondi and FBI Director Kash Patel oversaw a successful law enforcement raid that captured one of the nation’s top leaders of the gang MS-13. This person, 24 years old, had been in the gang for ten years and quickly sharked his way to the top. Based on the documents recovered upon his arrest, he was one of the prominent leaders of this criminal operation. This individual was arrested by federal agents yesterday morning in Northern Virginia.

During a press conference, however, Attorney General Bondi was asked about the Signa story involving top Trump officials, including CIA Director John Ratcliffe, Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth, and National Security Adviser Michael Waltz. The latter accidentally added The Atlantic’s Jeffrey Goldberg, who claims this chat on the encrypted messenger app that’s government-approved discussed top-secret war plans against Houthi terrorists. 

Why Bondi asked this question during an MS-13 presser is anyone’s guess—you already know why, though. It was to get a soundbite, maybe knock her off message, but she’s seasoned liberal media. You’re not going to stump her. Bondi noted rightly that the information in those chats was not classified, that we should be celebrating the successful strikes against the Houthis, and offered no further comment. 

“If you want to talk about classified information, talk about what was at Hillary Clinton’s home that she was trying to bleach bit, talk about the classified documents in Joe Biden’s garage that Hunter Biden had access to—this was not classified information,” she said before ending the press conference. 

Ms. Bondi rehashing all of the Democrats' egregious breaches and disclosures of classified information, which never led to any charges, was fantastic.

Perfect response, general.

Trending on Townhall Videos

[charlenasaxen]

“The ballroom was too hot, cramped with dancing bodies ignorant of what was happening”

“Byron had gathered Charlotte and Everett to watch over Eliza”

“the only person Blythe still recognized was Aris. Even the way he sipped his champagne was too smug”

“He didn’t need to ask who she was talking about.

“He is Death, Miss Hawthorne. I’m sure you can answer that question yourself.”

“Of course I will.” Aris extended his hand, and Blythe took it on instinct.”

“real love that Blythe was going to rip from her. All because of Aris. All because of Fate.”

“Because in that moment she knew why she hadn’t cried, knew why Signa had taken Percy”

“Blythe shoved away as the music crescendoed”

“before Aris could argue, Blythe fled the ballroom”

“know that she could have prevented Elijah’s death when he was only just beginning to truly live”

“The light cleaved Death’s shadows as Fate matched his brother and took him by the throat”

“I’m so sorry,” Blythe whispered at once, mindful of her uncle and the Wakefields still sleeping”

“I only ever wanted what was best for your family”

“I never wanted to hurt Percy. I loved him, Blythe”

“clear he was debating making a dive for the tapestry”

“Blythe gave no warning as she sliced her palm across the iron poker”

“turned to stare Fate dead in the eyes. “Because you never specified who had to be your bride.”

“I believe I’ve just fulfilled an oath. Are you not proud of your wife’s cleverness?”

“wound her fingers into his blond hair”

“When Fate laughed, the sound was manic. “You’re going to regret this.”

“Don’t worry, darling.” Blythe laid a kiss upon his cheek”

“Signa stared at her cousin, uncertain whether she was meant to shake her or hug her”

“Everyone will even believe I’m a princess.” Blythe may have dazzled with her smile”

“Don’t worry about me. I appreciate you being so willing to save my father, but I’ll take it from here.”

“It’s time that I go pack. I don’t want my father coming home to an empty house.”

Elijah, home. Never had there been words more magnificent.”

“I do wish you’d stop bringing them. The light is bothersome on my eyes.”

“yet despite all the blood she’d spilled, there was not a drop of it on the wood”

“From the vines in Elijah’s study, to the foal in the stables, and again with Eliza… Blythe had been a constant”

“After all these years, you truly found her. It would seem, Little Bird, that fate always has a way of working itself out in the end.”

“You once tried to kill me, and look where that got us.” Death’s eyes beamed”

“why don’t you show me around this house of ours?” He offered his hand, and with a heart so full it could burst, Signa took it.”

“EVERETT WAKEFIELD AND CHARLOTTE KILLINGER MARRIED TWO months later”

“between the bride and groom as he drew her in for a kiss”

“in that sea, she’d dreamed of velvet laughter. Of a faceless man who spun her in his arms, dancing to unfamiliar music”

“she watched Everett cup his hand around Charlotte’s face, reminding Blythe of a time when a faceless someone had held her like that”

“Elijah stood a short distance behind Signa, animated as he spoke to a laughing Eliza”

“And I daresay Charlotte has never looked happier.”

Blythe’s chest swelled as the couple held each other”

“It was good to see Everett with a light in his eyes”

“A lie, of course, but one Blythe knew she and Signa would take to their graves”

“Or at least she would. She wasn’t certain whether Signa would even have a grave.”

“though casual for Byron meant that he might as well have been shouting from the rooftops”

“The baby is a Hawthorne and should be raised as one.”

“one of the few who could have ensured that it wasn’t Elijah who drank the poison, but Lord Wakefield”

“For the sake of Percy’s child, it was Byron who’d poisoned the duke”

“what would it matter? They’d chosen to protect Eliza. Now they’d have to do the same for him.”

“it was the ring of golden light around his finger that Blythe struggled to peel her eyes from”

“he scanned the crowd, one corner of his lips twisting upward as his gaze settled upon Blythe”

“Then she’d shove them back into their sockets just so she could pluck them again”

“She lifted her own flute of champagne and threw on her brightest smile”

“Blythe could have sworn she heard Death’s laughter in the rustling trees”

“smug grin sinking from his lips as Elijah brushed past Blythe, heading for the prince himself”

“as Aris braced himself, Blythe offered her condolences with a sweet wave”

“Again the rustle of laughter sounded, and this time Blythe saw Death’s shadows ensnare Signa as he whispered, “And now the show begins.”