#gosh that cropping strikes again

[art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament]

SET FIFTEEN - ROUND ONE - MATCH FIVE

“Capriccio of a Mediterranean Seaport” (1936-38 - Rex Whistler) / “Zodiac calendar for La Plume” (1896 - Alphonse Mucha)

CAPRICCIO OF A MEDITERRANEAN SEAPORT: It’s this huge long mural (+ side walls!) with tromp l’oeil effects and lots of little details and it makes me soooooooo. always that painting is in my brain. (@knocking-on-peoples-non-doors)

ZODIAC CALENDAR FOR LA PLUME: mucha is just the ICONIC art nouveau artist. ugh so inspiring. who cares that he hated art nouveau it makes me want to learn how to draw (@kaerran)

(“Capriccio of a Mediterranean Seaport” is a trompe-l'œil, oil on canvas painting by Rex Whistler which is 58 feet (17.7 m) long and covers an entire dining room wall of Plas Newydd, a building owned by the National Trust.

“Zodiac calendar for La Plume” is a colour lithograph by Alphonse Mucha that was distributed as a calendar for La Plume magazine. It measures 65.7 x 48.2 cm (25.9 x 19 in) and can be seen at the Mucha Museum in Prague.)

[andmyvape]

"Please tell me you're not wearing that."

Elayn looked down, then back up with a wide grin. She tugged at her bright rainbow suspenders with her thumbs. "What, not tacky enough?"

Serana gave the ensemble another slow scan. "No, it's… definitely tacky. The combat boots with the khaki shorts is a nice touch."

The grin got wider as she stuffed her hands into her pockets. "They're going to be throwing candy, and I wasn't anywhere near prepared enough last time."

Serana rolled her eyes, but softened it with a smile. "You're ridiculous."

"Isn't that why we're dating?" her girlfriend asked as they headed out the door.

She took a moment to lock up while Serana laughed. "'Careless Whisper' on a boom box outside my window. I can't believe my dad didn't kill you. I know you stole that, by the way. We both went to see that movie when it came out."

"They marketed it as a romcom!" Elayn protested.

They were in the car now. It would be a trick to find parking, but they were running early thanks to Serana's habit of scheduling everything. Elayn was more the type to go with the flow, but living together had her adapted enough that the flow she went with was largely dictated by Serana's schedule. As a research chemist, she worked interesting hours at times, but Elayn was a good roommate, she cooked and cleaned, mostly because she had the time. Lacrosse wasn't a well paying sport compared to something like soccer, but the off seasons gave her plenty of time to maintain their loft. 

"Five dollars an hour?" Elayn griped as the machine printed out their ticket. 

"Homophobia strikes again," Serana said with mock solemnity. 

She snorted and wrapped an arm around her girlfriend's waste. "Which park did you say this thing started in again?" 

It was a little place surrounded by tall buildings, but it was a green patch in a city largely made out of grey. It being Pride Month, the grey was broken up by rainbows. The two wandered around as they waited for the parade to start. 

Well, at least, they started to wander when Elayn caught sight of a dog and all but dragged her girlfriend over to say hi. 

"What's his name?" she asked, so full of enthusiasm she practically floated. "Can I pet him?" 

The dog's owner, someone with a short haircut in a crop top that was orange, yellow, and white striped, nodded. "If he lets you. Sometimes he's not so-- oh gosh," they said, eyes wide as they watched Elayn kneel down and offer a hand to sniff that was immediately accepted. "You must have good vibes." 

"She's a dog person," Serana said with a laugh as the dog put its front paws on Elayn's shoulders so he could lick her face. 

"What's his name?" she asked through slobbery kisses. 

The butch grinned. "That's Duke, I'm Cas. It's nice to meet you!" 

The two introduced themselves just in time for a volunteer to come up with bottles of water. "Our city got voted best water in the state," she said cheerfully. "Take a few, it's gonna be a hot one." 

Before the march, there were speeches. The first was an introduction to the city's first pride parade since the 80s. The second was from a drag queen inviting everyone to the show later that night. Finally, the speeches were closed by an Episcopalian pastor trying to make up for the rest of Christianity's sins. 

"It's starting!" Elayn said excitedly when the crowd started to funnel out of the park. 

The march went down the sidewalk for a few blocks. Traffic was halted and the waiting cars honked while passengers waved. Elayn waved a lesbian flag, Serana had a bi flag, and the two of them dragged a rainbow striped cooler. 

"Mom! Mom!" Elayn heard behind her. "Look, it's two cicadas going at it!" 

She glanced behind her. There was a set of twins, about twelve years old, one of them draped in a trans flag and holding the cicadas that were indeed trying to reproduce. Elayn snorted and hit herself in the face trying to keep a laugh contained. "You like bugs, huh?" 

The girl in the trans flag beamed. "They're my favorite! Well, except for tarantulas, but Mom won't let me have one." 

"The rabbit gets out of its cage enough." The way the girl's mom said it, this was an age old argument. "I don't want to squash it when it ends up in my shoe."

"I had a snake when I was growing up," Serana chimed in. "A corn snake that never got out." 

The twins turned out to be part of a family unit. One twin was trans, and their older brother was too, and as Elayn found soon, was very excited to start HRT. "Get a Gc2b binder," she said. "When I'm feeling like a flat day, it works really well." 

The boy, a younger fourteen, practically floated with excitement. "I will!" 

Serana chatted with the parents while Elayn occupied the kids. "Have you folks been to Pride before?" 

Their mom, a woman named Chelsea, shook her head. "Nope, both kids came out last September and they've been talking about the festival ever since." 

"You seem like really supportive parents," Serana said. It carried the weight of one speaking who has not had contact with their parents since high school. 

Chelsea could tell, and she opened her arms for a hug that Serana was more than happy to accept. 

The march was only about a mile long, and it ended in another park. Elayn craned her neck and said, "I think I see the beer line, wait here?" 

"We will!" said the girl, who was very proud to be named Luna now. 

Serana and Chelsea shared a grin. "I guess we'll wait here," the mom said. 

It was a bit of a line, which was probably not a good thing, but apparently people were restricted on how many drinks they could buy, so at least there was that. While Elayn waited, she was joined by two people wearing pronoun pins that said "she/her". 

Elayn's jaw dropped at the sight of one of the girls' dress, which was a flowing, fae like ensemble. "Holy shit!" she said. "You look amazing!" 

She blushed and ducked her head as she smiled. "Thank you, I got it from Amazon." 

"It's her first Pride," her friend added.

That just amazed Elayn more. "With the sparkles and the green eyeshadow, I wouldn't have guessed. Everything you've got going on is just amazing."

"Thank you!" she squeaked. 

Elayn wasn't alone in thinking the dress was gorgeous. Another person came up to compliment it, and they had such dope tattoos that Elayn could not help but comment. 

"The guy that did them is great," they gushed. "He does blacklight work too!" 

So she got a website saved on her phone for the next time she really wanted to get a tattoo on top of the three she already had; scrollwork on her bicep, a wolf on her shoulder blade, and a small date on her wrist that was the day she met Serana. 

When she got back to her girlfriend and the others, an IPA in hand that was frankly piss, she told them about the girl in the fae dress. 

"I saw her!" Serana exclaimed. 

"Amazon." 

"No way." 

Next was food, especially if she was going to drink a beer. Assuming she actually drank it. "There's some food trucks," she pointed out. "I could go for a corndog." 

"I'm going to get some mac and cheese," Serana said. 

"Mom! Mom!" Luna's twin brother, Ian, tugged at his mom's sleeve. "Can we get pretzels?" 

Chelsea sighed good-naturedly. "I suppose. Do you two want to meet up after?" 

"Over by the stage?" Elayn suggested. 

The group separated. She found the line for corndogs and funnel cake. While she was waiting, the woman ahead of her glanced her way, so Elayn said, "Howdy!" 

"Hey there, hun!" She clapped her on the shoulder. "Having a good time?" 

"I am," she said with a grin. "Everyone here is so nice. There were some moms back there handing out hugs!" 

"Well, I'm a mom, would you like a hug?" 

"I would love that." 

It was a lovely hug, the woman was warm and smelled floral. When they separated, she said, "I'm Elayn! It's good to meet you. Can I get you a corndog?" 

As she pulled out her wallet, the woman waved her money away. "It's Nessa, and actually, I'd like to buy you a corndog." 

"You don't have to--" 

Nessa laughed. "I miss my daughters, you'd be doing me a favor." 

They chatted while the line went down, about lacrosse and about university. It turned out Nessa's two daughters went off to college in other cities, so it had been a while since she saw either. "I had a son," she said. "But now I have a very happy daughter, and I'm so proud of her." 

"I wish I had a mom like you," Elayn said, thinking about growing up foster care. 

Nessa grabbed her in another hug. "Now you do!" 

When she got back to Serana and the others, they were listening to the music booming from the speakers. She had to yell to tell the group about her new mom. 

Chelsea looked a little sad, because she could connect the dots, but Luna and Ian were too busy freaking out over the cotton candy Nessa had bought her too. 

Not long after, the stage was occupied. Elayn was chatting with Luna with her back turned, so she missed it until Serana tapped her shoulder and turned her around. 

"Holy shit!" She hollered and clapped at the sight of a gorgeous, sequin clad drag queen in four inch heels doing a backflip off the stage and onto grass. "Holy shit!" 

As it turned out, the drag queens took tips, and it was at that point that Elayn knew she was about to spend a lot of money. Each queen that performed, and there were many, got a five in exchange for the sheer joy Elayn got when the queen before her touched her hand. 

When there was a break in the performances, she went back to Serana, who had a smirk on her face. "Should I be jealous?" 

Elayn cupped her face, and in a fit of sheer enthusiasm, kissed her girlfriend soundly, to the delight of the twins who hooted. "Don't worry, babe," she teased. "You're the only queen for me." 

"Flatterer." Serana swatted at her chest, but the smile on her face was pleased regardless. 

It was all a blur from there. Fair food, loud music-- and Elayn found beer that wasn't piss! She taught the twins a new vocabulary of cuss words the moment she found out their mom was fine with foul language. They parted around five in the afternoon, when a voice through a megaphone warned attendants that the festival was about to start catering to adults. There was a concert with more drag queens, this time in much more risqué outfits that Elayn would have given a kidney to see on Serana. 

When she said something, her girlfriend got a light in her eye. "Really now?" she purred. "Maybe for your birthday." 

By 11pm, Elayn was high on the party atmosphere and a few beers. The festival was over, and the walk back to their car would be a trick. "Did you have fun?" she asked Serana as they walked hand in hand. 

She got a kiss on the cheek. "I'm so glad I have you. When are we getting married?"

"When I figure out how to surprise you with a ring." 

[inkabelledesigns]

So anyone that’s been chatting with me in the past week knows that I’m on a bit of a kick for Balan Wonderworld. A friend of mine has been livestreaming it, and I finally got my hands on it!...Only for my brother to kind of monopolize my Switch and play it for himself. ^^’’’ I don’t mind too much, but he’s probably gonna beat it before I do, the kid’s almost made it to World 7, just needs a few more statues for the train. Meanwhile I’ve only gotten to touch the game for the second time tonight, which has landed me searching for statues and beating the World 3 boss. But I’m glad he’s having fun, it’s awesome to share this game with him. He dances along to all the little celebration sequences, it’s adorable. 

Today he went back and beat the boss for World 4, and he told me it had the same music for that dance sequence as World 2 did. I double checked just to be sure, and he’s right, it does! That strikes me as pretty interesting. I knew they reused the dance tracks for different bosses, but I never paid much mind to the order in which they’re repeated. Because it’s not a straight “123,” it jumps around a little more. It makes me wonder about the ties between the game and the novel. (This is where we get into spoiler territory.)

So I haven’t finished the novel yet (I get the sense I’m right before the final boss, much like my friend is for her game playthrough), but in it, every character has a different name. So our World 2 stage master, Fiona, is called Seagazer, and our World 4 stage master, Haoyu, is Skygazer. It’s established that these two have a close friendship since coming to Wonderworld, and they’ve got a lot in common. So the fact that their sequences share music makes me wonder if the others do too. So now I need to check. If you guys want to look too, here’s the other friendships:

Watcher and Sentinel (World 5 and World 8)

Clocktower Kid and Pensive Pierrot (World 6 and World 9)

Madam of the Mansion and Checkered King (World 10 and World 7)

If they have the same dance music, I’m gonna chuckle, that’s a really clever note game developers. I’d also like to say, dammit devs, some of the stories of these characters are so much darker in the book. Like, we find out Checkered King, the chess guy, lost his wife to sickness while he was too focused on trying to keep his title. Like oh my god, way to make me cry! Not all of them get fleshed out like that, but a lot of them do. Skygazer over there? He almost gets paralyzed in an airplane accident. Scarecrow, our good buddy Farmer Jose? He’s got a family, his home and crops are destroyed in that storm, and he’s afraid he’ll never be able to send his son to college. Madam of the Mansion has some serious issues with imposter syndrome as an artist (that hit me). Bugsy, our sweet little bug loving girl? I already loved her in the game, I identified with her as someone who had weird interests growing up, but when they go into detail about her laboring over these bugs for a class project, and everyone making fun of her for it, oh it hurt, it hurt a lot. And Lady of the Midnight Sun? Oh my gosh I cried the most over her. Her parents loved her dearly, and while going out to get her a Christmas present, they died in a car crash. She feels responsible for their death, and that hurts, that hurts so much. While I still have both of my parents, I can’t help but empathize a little with her and Clocktower Kid on the subject on death. I’ve been afraid of losing my dad since my 17th birthday, and I’m now 24. I know that even when his death does come, while I’ve been expecting it, it’s going to hit me harder and a lot worse than I think it will, and mind you, my imagination is scarily vivid. It all hits very close to home, all of the things they go through are very human problems.

That’s the thing I really love about Balan Wonderworld, but it’s also the biggest contrast between the game and the book: It’s a story about healing. In the game, everything starts out bad but ends up happy, but in the book, it starts off happy and turns out really sad. Honestly, you read the book for the angst and then play the game for the good vibes, ‘cause like, you can’t NOT smile at least a little bit while seeing these characters! In the book, everyone is so upset when you snap them out of their monstrous forms, angry and grieving now that they have the memories of their human, Earthly lives back, because they didn’t want to have to go through any of the pain and trauma again. Lance locked it all away, let them be happy, but it wasn’t real happiness. And it’s the moments where Balan pops in and tries to comfort some of these characters that really hit me. (Y’know, besides the lore point of him taking off his hat.) He sounds like he feels bad that this has to be done, but he knows that if he, Leo, and Emma continue to let Lance manipulate things, Wonderworld won’t be alright, and neither will any of the people who live there. Balan makes it very clear that Wonderworld isn’t about being happy all the time, it’s about finding balance within your life, within yourself. Even though we go through difficult times, we have to keep going, we have to believe that there’s something better on the horizon, that we can move forward and make things better for ourselves, be it by charting our own path or working together with our friends. That’s a really positive message. We have to balance the positive and the negative, otherwise we won’t know joy for what it really is. While I may not know how this whole thing ends, I have to say, I haven’t had this much fun with a game in a long time. 3D platformers are usually not my jam, I’m really bad at being precise (which has been a problem a few times so far), but this game goes at a slower pace, which is exactly what I needed. It’s so cheery and bright, super colorful too. Not gonna lie, I have a fanfic in the works already. ^^’’’’ Hope to share a lot of love for the maestro with all of you!

[salandition]

hello I would like a MiloxReader story please. (we need more milo content in this world) Maybe reader is helping Milo out on the farm, it starts to thunderstorm, so they take shelter in a barn. There's some hay, they figure they could be there a while, where it goes is up to you 😎

A/N: milo is so pretty and i love milo very much so I'm very glad to write him........... thank u .,,, also i hate this i wrote it terribly but take it anyway

--- --- ---

As you lift another bale of hay, the hook sunk deep into the soft straws and helping you heave and carry it over your shoulder, you look up at the sky and start to think that there are more clouds than you remember when you last looked. 

“Milo!” You call out, and from the other end of the field, Milo’s head raises to attention as he looks over. The two of you are surrounded by the vast fields of long grass and various crops, and beyond that is a fenced area with an abandoned barn that you and Milo are in the middle of trying to clear out. It’s old and dingy and needs several things fixed with the foundation and whatnot. “There’s only a few bales of hay left. Is there anything else that needs help?” 

Milo smiles, “nice work!” And then he stands up straight, hands on his hips and under his chin as he ponders. “I think that’s the most of it. Maybe look for any stray Pokémon hiding around and tell them it’s time to move out if you can?”

You give him a thumbs up. “On it!” You shout, and you let the hay fall off your shoulder and onto the pile with the others you had moved out of the barn. 

It was too much work to fix up something that’s old and moldy, Milo had decided. It was best to just clear it all out, get the materials that were still useful, and build a new barn somewhere nearby. It was a lot of work, so you (eagerly) decided to help him out. And it definitely was needed- with just the two of you, it’s already been several hours, and the sun that was blaring earlier made you sweat right through your shirt. The clouds that shifted by the past hour provided nice shade, though, so that was nice.

As you wander back into the barn, you swear you felt something drop on your neck and your eyebrows furrow as you look around, but you don’t see anything around you. So you shrug it off, walk in the barn and towards the few bales left sitting inside. Right as you sink the hay hook into the bale with a firm slash, a rumbling clap rings out in the air. 

Your eyebrows furrow once again, lips pulling into a frown. When you look at the open barn doors, you gasp- 

Because it’s raining in sheets outside, the clouds from earlier now an angry dark grey as they encompass the sky completely. How could the weather change so quick? You suppose the sun had disappeared a bit ago, but this was a bit excessive. You drop the hook and dash toward the doors, into the rain- “Milo!” 

Your voice can hardly be heard over the sudden rush of storm, thunder clapping and thunder echoing as the rain pours, but you can see a flash of pink from ahead. And sure enough, it’s Milo- looking just as shocked as you as he runs toward the barn. Nervous laughter bubbles out of him once he makes it to your side and you quickly wrap your arms around his back, quickly leading him inside before you move to shut the barn doors so the storm doesn’t make it’s way inside. 

But as the building creaks and sways, you have a feeling it’s really up to fate if you’re going to stay dry or not. You, at least- because Milo is already looking like a drowned Rattata as he stands in the corner and wrings out his sun hat. “Gosh, Milo,” you walk over to him and bite your lip as you take in just how drenched he is. 

The Gym Leader meets your gaze and simply shrugs with a smile. “Pretty out of nowhere, huh?”

Another rumble of thunder with a bolt of lightning rings nearby, and both of you jump. You nervously laugh.

“My mom always told me to expect something unexpected every day,” you take Milo’s hat from his hands, moving to hang it up on one of the hooks in the wall meant for horses water buckets, but none are around, so it works just as fine as a hat rack. “So I guess this counts as today’s unexpected event.”

“Wise words,” Milo nods, crossing his arms at his chest. He looks like he’s probably trying to get comfortable, but it’s not really working. You can only be so comfortable when you’re in heavy, wet clothes. 

Averting your gaze, you look at the dripping ceiling. “Do you know how long these storms usually last?” 

“Considering how we weren’t supposed to have a storm today... It shouldn’t be that long. An hour or two at most,” Milo sighs. You trust his intuition and nod- an hour isn’t really that long, but at the same time, it kind of is. 

Because it’s just you. And Milo. Alone in a barn. And did you ever mention how cute Milo is and how he’s really nice and you like him a lot?

Hm. A feeling like dread settles in your stomach as you cough. 

“At least we still have some hay bales in here,” Milo breaks through your thoughts as he heads toward them, but hesitates to sit on it as he looks at his situation. You hum. 

“You should probably- uh. You don’t want to get sick.” 

Milo looks at you, but you’re too busy looking at the floor and kicking the dirt. 

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says, and your head quickly snaps up.

“I wouldn’t be uncomfortable!” You quickly tell him, “plus, that hardly matters. You’re soaked to the bone and I doubt it feels very good.” Milo averts his own eyes now, hardly looking convinced as he furrows his eyebrows. It’s definitely not ideal to strip yourself in front of someone else... How can you make this better..? “I bet there’s an old blanket or something like that in here. I can look around for one- but. Seriously. While I look around, you should at least take off your shirt. You don’t want to get a cold,” you give him a concerned look- definitely not blushing as you tell him to remove his clothes, because why would you be blushing- and then quickly turn around to look around the barn. 

Since the entire building was in the process of being cleaned out, you doubt you’ll find much. But you have to at least try, for Milo’s sake and for yours. The first thing you do is climb the creaky ladder to the area up above. There was various items laying around, none looking promising. 

But as you scout around, you find a chest that’s been shoved into the corner and hidden away. You quickly trot over to it and, crossing your fingers, dust off the latch and open it. 

Laying inside is a bunch of old, miscellaneous items like candle sticks and even some pokeballs (all empty), and farming equipment too. It’s not until you get to the very bottom of the chest that you find- yes- a blanket! 

“Milo!” You call out in glee as you take the old cloth out, standing tall and letting it unfold as you whip it through the air several times to get all the dust off. You cough as some of it gets in your face. “I found one!” 

“Really?” Milo asks from below. “Where was it?” 

“In some chest up here. So I guess I found some more stuff to move,” you quickly move down the stairs- as quick as you can, actually, without fearing that you’re going to break it from how loudly it groans under your weight. As soon as you’re back on the bottom floor with Milo, you open your arms proudly with an end to the blanket in each hand as you showcase your find. 

Milo is very much not wearing a shirt, but you don’t focus on that part. Instead you focus on how Milo’s green eyes light up. “Oh! Would you look at that- I haven’t seen that blanket in years!” 

“You recognize it?” You ask as you wrap the cover around his shoulders. Your fingers brush against each other for a second as he grabs the ends and tugs it around him. The simple action surely didn’t make your heart skip a beat- not at all. 

Now that his shirt is discarded and he’s at least a fraction more dry, Milo sits on the hay bale and you take a place next to him. In the back of your mind, you’re grateful that it’s hay and not straw- straw is a lot more uncomfortable than hay is. 

“The barn’s been around for awhile,” Milo comments as he gets comfortable. “And so have I. I’m pretty sure this used to be the old gym leaders, I’ve seen it once or twice as a child. What else did you find?” 

“Some empty pokeballs, old candlesticks... a bunch of random stuff, honestly,”

“Sounds like him,” Milo huffs a laugh through his nose. “He was a bit of a hoarder. Not bad, though, considering it’s helping me now.”

You nod in agreement. Another strike of thunder and lightning is heard above- you and Milo both warily looking up at the ceiling as the building sways unsteadily against the harsh wind, and you unconsciously shiver, which doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Kind of cold...” 

“Yeah,” you shrug, and you meet Milo’s gaze. He’s smiling awkwardly, tilting his head in such a way that- “No,” you quickly shake your head. “That completely defeats the purpose of the blanket. It’s yours, I’ll be fine!” 

“Are you sure? It’s- not too big a deal,” Milo says, and you almost laugh. 

“What happened to you? You were just as mortified as I was earlier,” 

His face heats up a cute pink. “If it- if you’re uncomfortable- then I won’t push you! I just don’t want you to be cold!” The farmer shrinks a bit under his blanket. 

“You’re sweet,” you try your best to give him a reassuring smile. “Do you really not mind?” 

He quickly shakes his head. You’re not sure how to feel about how sure he is to ensure your comfort- offering you a blanket because you shivered even though he’s the one who’s still wet and shivering himself. You’re not sure how to feel about all of this, really- about Milo. And how kind he is.  Biting your lip, you hum for a long time before it turns into a defeated sigh. “Fine. Open up,” you wiggle closer to him and Milo smiles as he lets you wiggle next to him, handing you the end of the blanket to wrap around yourself. Immediately, you feel the wet press of his skin against your clothes, but he’s surprisingly warm despite that. 

Warm, wet, shirtless Milo... Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. 

“Did I ever tell you about the time I first caught a fire-type?” 

Milo breaks the silence, and your head raises in interest as you look at him. “Really?” You ask, a bit surprised. “I didn’t know you had any.” 

He nods. “It was actually because of a situation like this, actually. Believe it or not, I’ve been caught in a few storms. So, I thought- it sure would be handy to have someone who could help me in these situations, or at least help me stay warm!” 

Milo proceeds to tell you a long and entertaining story about how he was a teenager, caught in a storm, and how he barely found a shed to hide in. He probably dragged the story on longer than it needed to be, and he did a lot of cute voices for the Pokemon and what he thought they were telling him when he was a kid, but it was appreciated how he completely caught your attention and whisked you away into his story. It didn’t feel as awkward to be pressed against him and it didn’t feel as worrisome whenever the wind blew on the barn again. 

Instead it was just the two of you, sitting together on a pile of hay as you exchanged various stories from your lives. Laughing at the wild things that happened to you both. You should have expected this out of Milo- he always had a talent for turning an unsavory moment into a good one. 

Though you’re having a feeling it’ll be awkward all over again when the storm finally settles and the two of you will have to untangle from your little warm hub beneath the blanket. But you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it. 

[readerinsertfanfiction]

Hehe we talked about it 2 seconds ago and here i am😂😂can ya pretty please write an wardrobe hc for ikesen plz (whick ever of the sweet bois u want) of how they would react to MC who loves wearing gym/exercise clothes ie i only wear tights, sports bra and crop tops like they are sooo comfortable ❤🔥🥰 thanx love ❤🌻

😂 asdfghjkl. Ded. Okay, okay let’s get down to this. 

Context: I joked around that I would give out headcanons for those who want if they give me a description of their wardrobe. 

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Characters: I’m aiming for the whole cast and I did it! Yes! 

Oda Nobunaga 

His first reaction is curiosity. What is this style? What are these clothes you wear and what are they made from? He wouldn’t mind that it is so revealing, scandalising so, in fact he would probably enjoy it and make an indecent joke or two.

If you’re intimate with him he will make sure that you only wear those clothes in private, when it is only you and him. He doesn’t need you to scandalise the rest of his men, but he definitely doesn’t want them to see your skin as much as he does.

I can see him jokingly pull out a fundoshi (Japanese traditional underwear) to compare to your clothes and then laugh about it very loudly.

Will definitely make the above joke when you first meet and he summons you to the war meeting in your usual clothes. It will be humiliating, but then he will offer you some era-appropriate clothes.

Hideyoshi Toyotomi 

Scandalised. He will screech like a victorian governess about the inappropriateness of your clothes. Immediately throws his coat over you.

Will always be nagging at you to wear something more appropriate, or to think of your position. “You’re dragging the name of Lord Nobunaga down!” -- though he means well and actually is looking out for you, but do please, argue with him, don’t have him talk to you like that.

After a while he will just carry an extra cloak with him to throw over you. “Hideyoshi, aren’t you warm with that second coat?” “Yes, yes, I am, but I got to protect the dignity of my lord!”

Again, I wish to press the fact that he is more worried about your well-being than Nobunaga’s name, he just says it is for the sake of his lord’s reputation, because that honestly is easier to argue about for him.

Ieyasu Tokugawa

What is this? Why is he always turning around and heading for the other way? Is he avoiding you? What? Ieyasu Tokugawa will not deal with the extra skin.

Will probably also throw an extra blanket or cloak over you. “You look cold, you should wear more clothes.”

He really can’t be honest about it, but the extra skin, the form-fitting clothes, they are the reason why he can’t look you in the eye. There is so little left to the imagination and he is still a man and oh gosh, he is blushing.

Please don’t confront him about the fact that he is trying to avoid you. He will make up some sharp excuse and say something he regrets in regards to your clothes and oh, the shame.

Mitsuhide Akechi

Well, this is interesting. Are fabrics expensive from where you come from? Is that why you wear so little? Another result of poverty, or some outrageous sense of fashion that he isn’t aware of yet?

Would see the practicality in the form-fitting tights. They do help with movement, but still, are they also supposed for seduction? Definitely an effective distraction mechanism.

Will make little jokes about how you are probably wearing kid-sized clothing, because that top really should be covering more than just your chest.

Yes, he will tickle you. Your waist will be the main target, because if you are going to reveal that so easily he is going to take advantage of that. I hope you aren’t ticklish.

Masamune Date

It is canon that he (dis)likes our modern undergarments, I think? So, modern gym wear? Count him a fan.

Plenty to see, just enough covered for him to still enjoy. It is bold, it is flashy, it is just his style.

If you ask him he will probably try a crop top or the tights. He will have to say he prefers the crop top, they are nice and flowy. Perfect for a hot day of training, or when in the kitchen. The tights he isn’t a fan of, they feel like they are pressing the blood circulation out of his legs.

Probably the most enthusiastic of the bunch to see and learn more about modern clothes and especially exercise (read: gym) clothes. Your world sounds fascinating and very practical!

Mitsunari Ishida

I can actually see him being blissfully unaware of the extra skin and the form-fitting clothes. He won’t realise it until it is pointed out and even then he won’t see anything wrong with it.

“If you’re comfortable you should wear them!” he will say. “You always look good to me!” he will compliment.

Honestly will be the nicest about it from the bunch. This man is a god-given gift, an angel who fell down to the earth and forgot his wings.

When the weather gets chillier he will worry about you, however. “Ah, are you sure you don’t want anything warmer and more comfortable?” he will ask, but he won’t force you into anything if you tell him no.

Ranmaru Mori

Everyone’s little brother will be a little confused over your dress. What did you call it now? A crop-top?

I feel that, if you have him wear your clothes he will rock them, and even enjoy them. It is like having a little sibling that you can dress up and the likes.

“What? Why are you calling me cute! You are the cute one!” he exclaims, though he does enjoy the attention given, and the colours that crop-tops come in. The tights can stay away, though.

Will be a little bit conscious of your somewhat revealing wardrobe, but will try not to act scandalised about it. He tries to respect you for your choices, even if he worries for your safety and the eyes of the rest of the men.

Yukimura Sanada

He will blush. A lot. And act very scandalised. Mostly because he has no idea how to react to your wardrobe, but also because he can’t get his mind out of the gutter.

“I’m a man too, you know!” he will warn you. Cue confused expression, because what does he mean with that? Gosh, Yuki, no, it isn’t because you’re not considered a man, doof. #misunderstanding.

Will hide you in his sleeves when given the chance. Kimonos have wide sleeves and that means fabric that can cover you up. He will probably not think of carrying an extra cloak with him, because it is Yuki.

“Is this your secret to seducing the Oda-forces!” he will accuse you. Goodbye witchcraft, it is definitely the clothes that are to blame.

Shingen Takeda

“Is this how the gods above dress?” he jokes, appreciating the fashion and how it accentuates your figure.

Though, he will joke around that he will die of blood loss before his illness because of you.

“It is just me, or is it rather hot in here?” he jokes, stripping off his own top.

This man will appreciate it and try to match himself to it as well. It will be a show for sure.

Kenshin Uesugi

Will start out with his usual misogynistic remarks. “Trying to seduce my men, wench?” he says with enough malice.

Though, when he warms up to you he will mind your dress in a whole other way. “If you aren’t careful I will have to hide you,” he warns.

You will see that cage a lot faster than you did before and it is your wardrobe that is to blame. Not that he will let you out if you start dressing more era-appropriately.

Does not enjoy how other people are staring at you for your dress. Will threaten anyone who stares for too long, man and woman alike.

Sasuke Sarutobi

He is used to it, honestly. 21st century man from Japan. He probably has walked through Akihabara (the anime-district in Tokyo) more than once as well. He has seen his fair share of fashion and you are honestly tame.

However, since this is the sengoku era in which they aren’t very friendly towards strangers and basic human rights don’t exist yet he will worry. He will worry himself senseless and follow you around in the shadows.

“Are you sure you don’t want to dress yourself according to the era?” Sasuke tries to reason with you, but after a while he will just relent himself to it.

Will come up with something creative to meet your wishes and wants and that of the Sengoku era standards. There is a hidden fashion designer sheltered within this man.

Yoshimoto Imagawa

Not going to lie, but I feel he will find offense in your wardrobe. He strikes me as rather traditional.

Thinks it is rather classless, though he appreciates the colours. Otherwise he will mourn the loss of the fine sensibilities and elegance that comes with the traditional kimono.

“Must you reveal so much of yourself?” he questions, wondering what the aesthetics are like in your world. Though in time he will come to appreciate it, even if he doesn’t entirely understand.

Will ask you a bunch of questions on why you prefer this. Is it for flowiness and comfort? What about the yukata, have you tried that? Lighter fabrics? Will marvel a bit over the fabrics of your clothes, but also mourn the loss of quality that usually comes with mass-produced clothes.

Kennyo

Frowns at the clothes, wonders why, but keeps his opinions to himself, otherwise. You are your own person and he respects that.

Will make a comment on how men are beasts and beasts can’t be trusted, but otherwise will fight anyone tooth and nail if they dare to harm you, because just because you are dressed weirdly does not mean that they have any right to touch you!

Does marvel at the ease of your clothes and their efficiency. The warrior monks should honestly start to consider employing those tights of yours, because they are definitely a lot better than whatever they are using now and a lot easier to wear.

Will scowl at crop-tops however, because, no. Those are just useless pieces of fabrics that are better off used as napkins. Are you sure you didn’t accidentally run out of fabric when making these?

Motonari Mouri

The one who will mind it the least from all. It will remind him of the belly dancers in the middle-east - arabic countries.

Will definitely ask you if you could perform a dance for him. Feel free to feel offended and to call out this offense, because he does deserve a good wipe-off.

Will be the one supplying you with more short tops, though you can bet that they are more revealing that crop-tops. “What, I thought you liked them short and baring?” he questions, not understanding the difference.

From what I can see from his character design his pants are what comes closest to what your tights are. He will definitely be pulling at the fabric and wonder how it is so stretchy and comfortable and light. He will definitely need to loot a bunch for himself from wherever you got yours.

[musings-from-mars]

JanuRWBY: Week 1 Day 1 - “Outfits”

It felt familiar in the most unsettling way, being here again. Beacon was once a vibrant, beautiful place, inspiring to anyone who might lay eyes on the hallowed academy grounds. But now it was in ruins, ransacked by Grimm and festering with cracks in the pavement, buildings in varying states of collapse. Ruby’s team walked among the campus with hesitant steps, easily striking down whatever monsters came at them (the Grimm had thinned out lately, likely because the academy grounds had long been uninhabited), all in an effort to search around what was once their home.

Search for what exactly? They weren’t sure. All Oscar would say is Ozpin needed to “check about something down in the vault.” That something was not the Relic of Choice, he emphasized, but did not elaborate much further. He simply advised everyone else to look around and take note of anything out of the ordinary.

Ruby didn’t expect to find anything ordinary in the first place, until they found their way to their old dormitory. The dorms for the most part were oddly intact, which made it all the more surreal to climb the stairs up to their floor, walk down the carpeted hallway, then arrive at their room.

The door was unlocked, and they simply walked in on their dorm, everything still in place.

Despite everything, the four girls found themselves smiling as they gingerly entered, looking around their former abode with the same familiarity, but with new eyes.

It all...used to be so simple, didn’t it?

“I can’t believe it,” Weiss said with a scoff, hands on hips as she shook her head up at Ruby’s bunk, still securely suspended with seemingly haphazard restraints. “After all the time I thought your bed would fall and crush me in my sleep, not even the end of the world knocks it over.”

“You still underestimate my ingenuity?” Ruby asked, shaking her head. “Tsk tsk, Weiss.”

“Guys,” Blake called over, pulling something out from the closet. “Look!” She held up an old outfit of hers, a white crop zip-up and black leggings. “Remember these outfits?”

“Oh my gosh!” Ruby bolted over to the closet and pulled out her long-lost outfit from the time they went searching for Roman Torchwick. “I forgot about these!”

“Aww, I miss this dress,” Weiss said, pulling her white snow pea dress out. “I can’t believe it’s been here the whole time.”

“Man, I had good fashion sense,” Yang said, studying her own old outfit.

“Emphasis on had,” Weiss teased.

“Hey!”

“If only we had time to pack while the world was crumbling around us,” Blake joked morbidly.

“We had our hands full,” Yang joked along with her.

...

“Too soon?” She asked.

“I almost want to change back into it,” Weiss muttered, pointedly ignoring Yang.

“The nostalgia is hitting hard,” Blake agreed, going over to her old bunk and sitting down, laying her old jacket across her lap. “Remember when I was so obsessed with tracking down Torchwick that I went days without sleeping?”

Yang chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Imagine choosing not to sleep, huh?”

Weiss sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to spend one more night here...”

“Well...why don’t we?” Ruby asked.

To be continued...maybe...

[lumiereandcogsworth]

8,9, 10, 11, 12, 16, 17 , 18, 25, 30, 34, 35, 37, 48

good golly, thanks broski!!! i’m gonna do an under the cut thing cuz you know how much i talk and i don’t want to burden anyone in their feeds

8. oldest wip: heck if i know! but here’s what i did. i scrolled to the very bottom of my docs, at least to the point where fics started cropping up, and then scrolled back up until i found the first thing that hadn’t been posted already. and i found! my oldest wip! magic! it’s a CUTE idea involving my beloveds in the ballroom but apparently i haven’t touched it in over a year (last modified 8/16/20) which is a tragedy. here’s an excerpt for your troubles:

(gosh it’s so cute after this but i’m not just gonna post the entire thing. anyway)

9. current wip: heck if i know!! i’ve got a lot of pots that i’ve left to simmer in my kitchen, lady! truly i have many different scenes and moments in time. BUT! the last thing that i was like Oh? Hello? about was this lil fic involving adam and belle on their honeymoon in paris (well it starts in paris, you know they be going all over the dang place.) it’s so lovely and i feel like it’s relatively done but i’m letting it simmer particularly cuz sometimes if i let something sit long enough i’ll discover where it’s actually supposed to end.

10. do you set yourself deadlines? look at my disaster of a wips kitchen and ask me again if i set deadlines

11. books and/or authors who influence you the most? well of course fredrik backman influences me! we don’t write the same genre or style though, but he really inspires me to write about what makes me happy. all his works are just purely about love and friendship and family and trust and loyalty and what happens when those things are put to the test. and he writes about this stuff cuz it’s what he knows and what makes him most happy. and i love it so much. when i look at all that he’s done and written, it makes me feel like i can handle writing my own book, even multiple books. i know a lot of authors do this, of course, but his works just mean so much to me and i feel so inspired by him. i want my books to be about all those things too (though with an added hint of royal drama, perhaps), and… i don’t know. i’m getting myself all choked up! i’m simply inspired.

12. describe your perfect writing space. i’ve been writing stuff on my phone a lot lately. i really only write on my laptop when i’m working on a bigger work. though, i think even that juliette’s birthday fic was mostly written on my phone :/ so i guess perfect writing space is a comfy seat on the couch (or in bed) with No Noise (besides white noise) and either lamp or natural lighting!

16. how many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied with your project? i think i read through and edit my works like 2-3 times before posting, maybe 3-4 if it’s a little bigger. and if it’s Real Big then i’ll have grace take a gander at it. it’s important to have a Local English Major on stand by in times of trouble.

17. what writing habits or rituals do you have? oop! answered already! darn i thought there was no overlap. so close.

18. if you could collaborate with anyone, who would it be and what would you write about? well it’s not like @ilikebigassbuttsandicannotlie and i have an entire universe that we’ve built over the last year or anything. that would be crazy, ha ha. also i’d definitely do another fic/art collab with @drawnby27emilys - the first one was a grand success! ah, my two emilys! have you two met? i’m introducing you here now since you’re both tagged.

25. favorite part of writing? when you’ve just gone completely tunnel vision with it. nothing in the world exists except the one you’re creating before you. you look up and somehow you’ve written 2,000 words and you’re not even convinced that you blinked once the whole time.

30. favorite idea you haven’t started on yet? my book lol. and that’s not entirely true, i’ve written plenty about those kiddos. but nothing strictly book yet, ya know? just a lot of world and character building. which is still important!!! i try to remind myself!!! but i really would like to start the actual thing. i thought i did once but i don’t know where that scene was going. i’ll probably only end up using part of it, if anything.

34. what was the hardest scene you ever had to write? AH. strike two, i answer this one as well.

35. what scene/story are you least looking forward to writing? theres a scene in my book that i know is gonna take all i have to get it right. also a fic idea that i just cannot bring myself to properly get on paper cuz it frustrates me.

37. first sentence on your current wip: well i’ll pull from that “current wip” from the beginning of this monstrous post:

“He watched her, his Belle.”

(of course)

48. what’s the most self-insert character/scene you’ve ever written? i’m like you, jess. i think i sprinkle a bit of myself into everything, when it applies. besides some traits (adam’s night owl-ness, belle’s humming and singing to herself all day long, etc.) i think i’m more in my work in the way of what it’s about. all that domestic fluff and such. even if i don’t live domestically with anyone or have a husband or children yet, it’s all very much me. the kind of sweet, gentle love that i hope to express to those around me, and that i hope to have for myself one day :”)

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 5

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Caught up in a blood feud between the villages of Wheat and Barley, Saelhen and Looseleaf are tasked with investigating a recent death. Their investigation takes them to a spooky tower owned by the local crazy torture wizard, which- hey, why was this guy not considered a suspect, huh? He's a crazy torture wizard!

Last time, the group was introduced to Malath Kanthalga, matron cleric of the village of Barley. She has no trust for outsiders- but she was willing to let Looseleaf lend a hand in proving once and for all that the scoundrels of Wheat were responsible for the recent murders.

To that end, the party is led a ways down the road to the farmstead of Roos and Gera Nicksickle, an elderly halfling couple which was recently slain.

En route, Looseleaf sizes up the farmers Malath has been arming, to see if any of them seem to have combat experience. There's one lizardfolk farmer who seems more comfortable with the armor, and holds his pitchfork like a spear. She makes a note of that.

They arrive, and are met by Lester Jawhold, a doughy-looking human man who's standing guard over the body out in the field, accompanied by a number of vicious-looking hounds. With permission to search the crime scene, some investigationing occurs.

Saelhen gets some basic details- the body was pierced through the chest with a four-pronged weapon, as described. Plus, there are the remains of hastily-erased footprints in the dusty soil- bootprints, it seems.

Looseleaf uses her animism magic to get a more direct picture of the incident. The corpse, recently dead, has a dead-corpse spirit that retains some information thanks to the emotionally volatile nature of recent events. The cause of death... being suddenly pierced through the heart, from the front, by a strange four-pointed weapon that induced extreme pain. It appeared to strike from out of thin air. Nothing about the corpse indicates a memory of seeing an assailant.

Indoors, the other victim, Gera, is found dead on the floor of the kitchen. It seems like the cause of death is the same, but... Looseleaf's animism reveals that her vital organs are intact, and she appears to have died of shock from the extreme pain.

All Saelhen finds from searching the house is... an empty cupboard with a recently-unlocked lock, and a mattress removed from its bed. Plus some of the same bootprints from outside.

Looseleaf has the idea to search the house for the victims' boots, to compare with the prints found outside. And what the search reveals is... there are no boots. They didn't own any. They were halflings. So their house being covered in dusty bootprints... well, it implies someone else was here and murdered them, which rules out the "a weird knife sort of inexplicably teleported into their chests" theory, at least.

The only real clue they have to go on is the extreme pain experienced by the victims. This suggests...

Malath gives a little exposition on the torture wizard- apparently he considers himself a savior, who through his experiments intends to vanquish pain itself- and surely torturing a few unwilling test subjects will be worth it, if he succeeds. Malath doesn't seem to consider it likely that Lumiere is the culprit, for the same reasons as Thalath- but jokingly suggests that perhaps Lumiere might have some information on who stole his torture tools to commit murder with.

Looseleaf: "So," Looseleaf asks, "if we're going to the tower wherein dwells a torture wizard, what can you tell us about what we might expect to face there? Ravenous horrific alchemical experiments ready to eat our faces? Traps? Magical servitors? A portal to another realm full of horrors?" Benedict I. (GM): She looks briefly surprised. "No, I... though I haven't been victim to him myself, I would warn strongly against confronting Lumiere, unless you're all much more seasoned than you look. None from our village have been able to resist him when he decided our consent was no longer worth trying to wrest from us." "Those who have been inside the tower might have more information for you, if you're fool enough to try." Looseleaf: "Well, team, you've heard the mission dossier, I guess. Do we think we're fool enough to try?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen Fishercrown is not fool enough to try. Unfortunately, Saelhen isn't getting to be Saelhen right now. "...I imagine that we have no other recourse." Benedict I. (GM): Vayen looks... almost gleeful, insofar as his face betrays any expression. Looseleaf: Thanks for the vote of creepiness, edgelord.

Saelhen opts to kill annoying helicopters with one stone, and suggests that the team split up to gather information on the tower from the townspeople. She also suggests that Malath personally keep an eye on Vayen, as the least-trustworthy-seeming member of the group. Good persuasion means it works, and Vayen goes off to interrogate Lester Jawhold while the rest of the team heads into town to ask around about Lumiere's past victims.

First, on the way back to town, they speak with Chitch Ssarzar, the lizardfolk with the apparent military background. He's got one hell of a sob story for them!

Saelhen du Fishercrown: 24 PERSUASION (8) all i do is win Benedict I. (GM): That'll do it- Chitch is pretty horrified at the implication that you're actually trying this, but with sufficient reassurance, he'll spill his guts. He came to Grain back when it was just Grain, twenty-odd years ago, hoping to raise his infant daughter somewhere less dangerous than the Cutthroat Islands. Then, during the fire, his daughter was kidnapped by the wizard, and he tried storming the tower to get her back. He got captured, strapped to a rack, and had his flesh flensed and healed and flensed and healed repeatedly. At one point he thought he'd get a reprieve, when the wizard's teakettle went off and he went downstairs to get some tea- but the flensing knives just kept going, by themselves, without stopping. He never saw his daughter again. He was eventually released, and thanked for his service, and by that point he was too traumatized to ask Lumiere what happened to his daughter, in case it provoked him to torture him more. He's pretty wracked with guilt over the situation.

They get a rough description of the first few floors of the tower, up to the torture room. Plus, some exposition on the town's history:

Looseleaf: Okay. More questions: this time, asking about the town. It was called Grain, once? It split into two towns and now Barley hates Wheat? There was a fire? How did this all come to happen such that a single town turned in on itself? Benedict I. (GM): Yes- either 28 or 29 years ago, he forgets exactly, there was some feuding between farmers growing different crops. The ones with less fertile soil, sandier towards the southeast and closer to the mountains, had some kind of grudge against the landowners with more fertile soil, and it was this whole political infighting nightmare he didn't understand, as he was new in town. Then the dragon attacked, and... he's not entirely sure what happened, because accusations were flying left and right, but apparently some people tried to use the dragon attack as cover to commit arson against their enemies? Saelhen du Fishercrown: DRAGON Looseleaf: A FUCKING DRAGON Benedict I. (GM): And most of the town burned down, and when it came time to rebuild, nobody wanted to build near each other- and there was some sort of weird religious split between Family and Harmony so that most of the Harmony people decided to go grow wheat on the worse land, and the Family people went to go grow barley on the better land. He'd never been super involved with the split, as a newcomer, and spent the early rebuilding period being tortured- Barley was just the closest civilization after he was set free. Looseleaf: Mmmmm. A tragedy, all around, gods-damn. Saelhen du Fishercrown: caused by a dragon. a dragedy, if you will.

Then it's off to visit the innkeeper, Cassie Zeishus.

Benedict I. (GM): When you reach the inn, you meet Cassie Zeishus, the innkeeper. She tells you about the time she visited the torture wizard to see if her husband was there. Looseleaf: Oh, yeah, you know. Just, a conjugal visit. To the torture tower. Benedict I. (GM): Apparently her husband, kind of a good-for-nothing out-of-towner she married largely as a charity case, kept on gambling and trying to sleep around and doing general sleazy vice stuff, and was miserable in a town that didn't want to indulge him- and she's pretty sure he faked getting kidnapped by the torture wizard to escape it. Saelhen du Fishercrown: as one does definitely not victim-blaming Benedict I. (GM): This was corroborated by Lumiere quite pleasantly answering the door and telling her no, he hadn't seen hide nor hair of this Arnie fellow, and would she like to come in for tea? And her saying no, no thank you, and walking away. Looseleaf: Huh. Benedict I. (GM): She doesn't know why the guy let her leave, despite a propensity for forcing people inside and torturing them in the past. She chalks it up to having been very intimidating towards him.

Saelhen also tries to inquire about Kensa, Thalath's sister, who's apparently in some sort of dire straits here. She doesn't want to give away that she's asking about Kensa deliberately, so she takes something of a garden path of conversation, about Malath and why the townsfolk call her "Mother". Eventually she gets to Kensa, who apparently weaves cloth and sells it to the general store, where she can be found around this time of day. (She's apparently got something going on with the shopkeep's son.)

Looseleaf: these affairs might not be something we can intervene constructively in. Saelhen du Fishercrown: I mean, Saelhen's definitely abducting this child Looseleaf: gosh, well, when you put it that way, how could we not. Saelhen du Fishercrown: let's visit the general store! saelhen enjoys cloth.

At the general store, they find... not really any evidence that anything bad is going on with Kensa. She seems... fine? Also six feet tall and jacked as hell, because she's a goliath and their twelve-year-olds are just like that?

Kensa notices Lady Noeru de la Surplus' fancy silk dress, and fangirls over it immediately.

Benedict I. (GM): "Whoa, is that silk?" "I don't know if we have any silk in the back, but-" "Silk?" the girl by the window asks. "Ohmigosh, you have a silk dress? Ohmigosh, how much did it cost?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Ah." Saelhen expected a little more resistance than this! "15 gold, when I bought it." Benedict I. (GM): "Whooooaaaa..." She's looking the dress up and down with obvious envy. "Nnnnngh, but I don't have... fifteen gold..." Looseleaf: oh my gosh she wants to buy it

Benedict I. (GM): "It's- hang on, if I get ten, will you sell it?" "I can probably get ten! And I'll throw in a replacement!" "Not silk, but-" "Uh, Mr. Teller, do you still have last week's stuff in the back?" Looseleaf: this kid's great Benedict I. (GM):"It's good, I promise!"

Saelhen, being a con artist and kind of a jerk, turns down the offer, but skillfully reframes the issue by exploiting Kensa's love of textiles to get it repaired on the cheap in exchange for a swatch or two of the fabric. Great... job...?

After interrogating the townsfolk, Looseleaf has a bright idea- she wants to buy a climbing pack to scale the tower from the outside. It costs her extra, since new stuff has to be custom-forged overnight (a remote farming village like this doesn't have much call for climbing packs), but she gets it.

Vayen comes back, with testimony from Lester. It's not much they didn't get from Chitch- just a note that apparently vegetables were chopping themselves in Lumiere's kitchen.

Looseleaf: i should get some food too maybe! anyways all this is really pointing hard to 'the four-pronged stabby painblades move on their OWN'. it's not clear who's BEHIND it, but it's pretty obvious now that all the clues point towards the stabbies being the culprit.

-

The next morning, they head out to the tower. They notice a couple things: one is a sign that reads: " KEEP SHOUTING",

and the other is a bunch of broken glass and rubble strewn across the ground. Looking up, they notice the sixth floor seems to have had a large window smashed open. Weirdly, less glass on the ground than you'd expect if it'd been smashed open from the inside.

Looseleaf's Animist class can Detect Magic, sorta, and it's pretty clear to her that the front door is magic- so rather than fall for an obvious trap, she puts her plan into action. She can jump 30 feet up with the aid of her wings, so she's able to jump straight to the third floor and try to drive a piton into the stone to drop a rope for the rest of the party.

Here is a list of problems with that plan:

Looseleaf has tiny little sticklike moth arms, which exert insufficient force to drive pitons into stone with no leverage.

Breaking a window to attach the rope to instead results in a broken window.

Inside the broken window is a spindly suit of armor covered in nasty spikes, which immediately springs to life and turns to face whoever just broke a window next to it.

Also an alarm goes off.

Looseleaf is able to get the rope secured before the living armor attacks her, and jumps back out the window- as a moth, she essentially has Feather Fall on at all times. Still, going in through that window presents a problem.

They've noticed something, though- the automaton doesn't seem to be chasing them out the window. It's just standing there, staring down at them. This... gives Looseleaf a bright idea.

Orluthe has to make his grapple check with disadvantage, given that he's trying to snag this thing with his halberd with one hand while clinging to the side of a building by a rope, but luckily this thing botches its own roll thanks to its patented "stand perfectly still because there are no intruders in the building" maneuver.

It takes a bunch of fall damage from hitting the ground, is knocked prone, and the remainder of the party immediately unloads on it on a surprise round with crits for a bazillion damage, killing it before it can move.

This was a really good idea!

Too bad there was another one just inside, which Orluthe is now alone with!

...Wait, no, he's a giant wolfman in football armor and he suplexes the other one out the window, where the exact same thing proceeds to happen to it. Okay. Cool.

With that, the party makes their way inside. Whatever the alarm was, it seems to have died down, physically- whatever was powering it petered out. Plus, Looseleaf's magic detection means there's no way they could get caught in any traps!

Any magic traps!

Saelhen fails her perception check while walking across the room to a treasure chest and hits a tripwire and a net falls from the ceiling, trapping her and Oyobi! I bet this would be a really dangerous trap if there were, say, two menacing spiky robots bearing down on them trying to kill them while they were defenseless. As is, though... it's a minor inconvenience.

After this snafu, Saelhen tries to pick open the chest, only to find that the lock is a) quite well-made, and b) itself trapped, with a poison needle in the locking mechanism designed to go off if a lockpicking attempt fails. She just barely gets her fingers away in time, and opts to leave this treasure chest to loot later, after they're done here.

The stairs up from floor 3 seem to be blocked off by a translucent red magic barrier, so Looseleaf resumes the original plan. She stands on the windowsill of the third floor, and just flaps up to the fourth floor, looking inside and this time unlocking the window telekinetically from the inside, rather than breaking it and setting off an alarm.

When she opens the window (to the torture laboratory), some more very scary torture robots immediately go after her, as do a variety of flying knives that have quite a bit of movement speed and stab her repeatedly.

Maybe this idea had some flaws.

Next time: Looseleaf hopefully doesn't get turned into moth sashimi by animated torture implements! More dungeon is crawled! Some jerk falls down the stairs and it's hilarious!

[marksongyeom]

Catch | Part Two

Pairing: Mart Tuan x Reader

Genre: College!au, slight angst

Warnings and Disclaimer: Alcohol, frat party; y’all please drink responsibly. Also I don’t know how frats and parties on college campuses work b/c the frats at my school are practically nonexistent and we’re a hella dry campus.

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: Friday had finally rolled around and so did the party. Everything was going great, including with Mark. At least they were at first.

Previous: Intro

The first week of classes went by so quickly. Maybe it was because labs hadn’t started yet, or that I only had to go to two or three classes a day. Regardless, the week flew by and it was already Friday.

Amanda and I sat in chemistry (Who in their right mind thinks it’s a good idea to have college chemistry at 7:40 in the morning on a Friday?) chatting as we waited on Jackson to show up. “Are you going to Alpha Sigma Phi’s party tonight?” Amanda asked suddenly, excitement glimmering in her eyes.

Oh shit. I’d completely forgot that was tonight. “Yeah,” I sighed, “Jackson roped me into when one of his teammates who’s a part of AS Phi invited me.”

“Ooo,” Amanda giggled, “first week and you’ve already caught a frat boy’s attention. Not to mention he’s on the baseball team, too. I love this for you.” 

I laughed. “I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve only talked to him once and I got this kind of weird feeling after.”

Amanda cocked her head in confusion. “Good or bad?”

I didn’t get to answer. I was cut off by Jackson’s cheerful voice. “Ladies, I come bearing a new friend!” Amanda and I looked at Jackson and his said friend.

Speak of the devil.

Mark smiled and waved at me.“(y/n), you already know him. Amanda, this is Mark,” Jackson said motioning to the the brunette boy. “Mark, Amanda.” Once introductions were over, Jackson and Mark squeezed passed Amanda and I, slipping into the seats next to me.

“That’s him,” I mouthed to Amanda.

Amanda’s eyes widened, as she tried to hold back an excited grin. She looked back and forth between Mark and I before nodding her head vigorously. I rolled my eyes, heat rising in my cheeks. Jackson eyed the two of us as all of this happened. “What are you two not talking about and why am I not included?” he whined.

Amanda and I laughed. “Nothing,” I said. Jackson pouted, shooting me puppy dog eyes. Dammit. “I’ll tell you later, okay?” Jackson sat back in his seat, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Good morning class.” Like an angel sent from heave, our professor began class.

I don’t know what compelled me to do it, but I peeked over at Mark. My eyes met his brown ones. He smiled at me and winked. I felt my cheeks heat up and I quickly looked away, trying to suppress the my smile.

*     *     *

The day passed by fast and before I knew it, I was in my dorm chatting with my roommate and getting ready for the night. Thoughts of Mark continued to occupy my mind throughout the rest of classes. The glances and captivating smiles continued the entire chemistry class, leaving me with a smile on my face and a swirly feeling in my stomach. I hadn’t felt like this since sophomore year of high school. It felt good.

“Wait, how long have you known him?” my roommate, Allie, asked. I was confiding in her about my Mark Tuan predicament. Despite knowing her for only about a week, we’d become as close.

I hesitated, not daring to meet her gaze, and instead choosing to keep looking in the mirror as I clasped my necklace. “I met him Monday,” I said. Allie raised and eyebrow as me. I sighed, “I know, I know. I haven’t talked to him a whole lot either. I’m just as confused as you are.”

Allie leaned her back on her bed, and shrugged. “I don’t really know, (y/n). I mean it sounds like it’s just a surface level crush. I mean, it’s normal to be attracted to people based off of looks alone. Just be careful. Frat boys tend to be nothing but trouble,” she said, rolling her eyes at the lost part.

“Don’t remind me,” I groaned. 

I looked in the mirror one last time. At least I felt cute. My hair and make-up were done. Nothing glamorous, just enough to feel good. I’d put on my favorite black shorts, and a cropped grey tank top that showed a peek of stomach, but not so much that I was going to feel self conscious.

There was a knock at the door. “Come in!” Allie and I called in unison. Jackson walked in, a bright smile on his face and looking as stylish as ever. He said hi to Allie before looking at me. He gasped. “You look so good! Well, you always look good, but you know what I mean.”

I laughed and thanked him as I grabbed my keys and phone. When I turned around, Jackson was digging through my closet. Before I could ask what he was doing, he held up a black flannel. “Put this on he said. I don’t want you to get cold.” I smiled and put it on, saying bye to Allie before heading to the party with Jackson.

*     *     *

The house was already bustling with people by the time we arrived. I could feel my nerves getting the best of me. Jackson seemed to notice, too. He gave me hand a reassuring squeeze. “Hey, you know I’ll be there when you need me. Just find me or text me,” he said with a gentle smile.

I smiled and nodded. “Thank you,” I responded softly.

Jackson nodded. “Of course,” he said, his smile turning into a grin. “I’m sure Mark will take care of you, too.”

I rolled my eyes, my cheeks getting warm at the thought. “I barely know him.”

“Okay and? It’s obvious that he’s attracted to at the very least,” Jackson responded. I stayed silent, my cheeks getting even warmer. Jackson snickered at this, throwing his arm around my shoulder. “At least talk to him. He’s a really good guy.”

“Okay, fine,” I sighed. “I will.”

I was glad Jackson had me put the flannel on because it was so packed in the house that people were literally rubbing against each other just to squeeze by. Jackson introduced me to a few of the guys on the baseball team, then went off to be the social butterfly that he is. “Don’t forget, text me if you need anything,” he said before disappearing.

I continued to mingle a bit, talking to a few people that I had class with. Eventually, I made my way to the kitchen to get a drink. I was going to need one if I was going to be here for a while. There were coolers packed full of beer, hard seltzers and vodka, and water for when people needed to sober up a bit or for those who weren’t drinking. I grabbed a drink out of one of the coolers, twisting the top off.

I walked around, sipping on my drink and enjoying the music, despite how loud it was. I continued to talk to a few people and even met a few new people. I was actually having a pretty good time.

“(Y/N)!!!” a very familiar voice shrieked. I turned around to see Amanda scurrying over to me. She looked even more stunning than normal with her hair up in a chic bun and big hoop earrings. Amanda threw her arms around me. “AAH, I’m so glad I found you! You look so good!” 

I laughed and hugged her back. “Thank you! So do you!” She thanked me, striking a pose in typical Amanda fashion. Her cheeks were a little pink from the drink in her hand. We continued to talk and laugh. “Ya know, I’m glad I sat down next you in chem on the first day. I consider you one of my best friends here.” Amanda said, as she swayed to the music, a smile on her face.

I smiled back. “Me too.”

Suddenly Amanda gasped. She pointed a perfectly manicured finger. My gaze when to were she was pointing across the room. Mark. “It’s your maaan,” she sang, a grin on her face.

I shook my head, my cheeks getting warm for the second time that night, and it wasn’t from the alcohol. I shook my head. “He’s not my man,” I said.

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. He clearly has a thing for you, and you definitely feel the same way. I saw you two looking at each other constantly during chem,” Amanda replied with a smirk. “Plus, frat boys are fun. Even if it’s not something serious.” Before I could respond, Amanda was calling and waving Mark over.

Mark looked at us, his eyes locking on mine. His face lit up. Excusing himself, he made his way across the room to us. It was like he was moving in slow motion. Mark looked so good with his messy hair falling in his eyes ever so slightly. He took long strides, his jeans fitting him just right. He wore his shirt unbuttoned, the white t-shirt underneath exposing just enough of his collar to let the imagination wander. I kept telling myself that somebody with a face that pretty was nothing but trouble, yet I didn’t really seem to care.

“I’m glad you guys came!” He said as he finally reached us. He looked over at me and smiled. It was different then how he smiled at others. There was a twinkle in his eyes.

“You guys did a great job on putting this party together!” Amanda exclaimed.

Mark rubbed the back of his neck shyly. “Thank you, I’m glad you guys are having a good time.”

There was small talk for a bit, until Amanda held up her now empty bottle. “I’m going to go get another and find Jackson,” she said before making her way to the kitchen and leaving Mark and I alone. Well as alone as we could be at a party.

Mark chuckled a bit. “She’s fun.” I smiled and nodded in agreement. We stood in silence for a bit. I’d never been alone with him before and didn’t exactly know what to say. I was getting that excited swirly feeling in my stomach again. “Are you actually having fun?” Mark asked suddenly, catching me off guard. He looked at me, laughing lightly when he saw the confused look on my face. “Jackson told me you don’t like parties that much.”

I made an ‘oooh’ shape with my mouth and looked down. Now I felt bad. I looked back up at Mark. His eyes met mine. They were soft and kind. “I really am,” I said, smiling at him softly.

Mark smiled back, charming and sweet as always. “Good. The last thing I’d want is for you to have a bad time.” 

It was quite again. Oh my gosh, why are you so awkward, (y/n)! Mark cleared his throat. “You look really pretty,” he finally said. His voice was shy and his cheeks were a bit flushed.

I fidgeted with the ring on my finger, trying to hold back the smile that was making it’s way on my face. “Thank you,” I said, finally meeting his eyes again. “You look really good, too.”

Mark smiled and finally looked away. “I don’t think I ever asked and now that I’m thinking about it, it’s such a lame thing to ask at a party, but what’s your major?”

I giggled a bit. “Civil engineering,” I responded.” And it’s not lame. It’s an essential question in college. A person’s major says a lot about them. Mine just so happens to give away how much of a nerd I am.”

Mark grinned at this. “I guess we’re both nerds then. Mine’s chemical engineering with a minor in math.”

I laughed, grinning back at him. “Oh so you’re a super nerd. The only thing that says more about a person than their major is their minor,” I teased.

Mark laughed. It was high pitched and honey sweet. I could feel myself melting more and more with every passing second. “Yeah, you’re not wrong.”

We continued talking, about everything. He told me about baseball and how he met Jackson. Turns our Mark is a sophomore and already the star catcher for our school’s baseball team. We laughed about stories from high school and even talked about our plans for the future. 

I hardly noticed how close we were to each other. We were both leaning against the wall. He was borderline hovering over me, but I didn’t mind one bit. “Okay, but what makes you happy?” he asked me.

I titled my head slightly as I looked up at him. His face was so close to mine. “What do you mean?”

Mark hummed as he thought, searching his mind for the right words. Oh, how I’d love to search the darkest corners of that beautiful mind. He smiled and finally said, “Like, what makes you feel alive?”

I thought for a bit. “I’m not totally sure, to be honest. I mean, I really like to travel. Going to San Diego with Jackson was probably one of the best times of my life.” Mark smiled at this. “What about you?”

As Mark was about to answer, he was cut off. “Maaaarrrrk,” a voice sang out. We both looked in the direction it came from. A pretty girl sauntered up to us. She had long brown hair and glowy skin. Her skirt hugged her just right. She glanced at me, annoyed, then threw her arms around Mark’s neck. I couldn’t help but notice how his hands immediately went to her waist. “Markie, baby, I’ve been looking for you aaallll night.”

Markie? Baby?

I looked between her and Mark. Instinctively, I pulled my flannel tight around me for comfort. “I’m going to go find Jackson,” I said to him, trying to hide my disappointment. Mark pushed the girl to the side lightly, but it was too late to say anything. I was already gone.

I squeezed passed people as I made my way through the house. It wasn’t hard to find Jackson. All I had to do was follow the excitement and I’d find him at the center. I could feel myself getting worked up. My stomach was tying itself in knots.

I finally spotted Jackson. He was laughing and dancing with Amanda and a few others. “(y/n)!” Jackson said, but his smile was quickly replaced by a look of concern. Him and Amanda pulled me to the side. Jackson kept an arm around me. “Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?” he asked in a gentle voice.

I told them about what happened with Mark and that girl. I don’t know why I was so upset about it, he wasn’t my boyfriend or anything after all. Still, I couldn't help but sniffle as my eyes began to water. Jackson pulled me into a hug. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said. “I’ll talk to Mark next time I see him. For now, why don’t we get out of here?”

“Oh, hun, it’s going to be okay. She’s lucky I just got my nails done,” Amanda said, muttering the last part with a frown. “Boys are stupid, not offense Jackson.” Jackson feigned hurt, making me laugh a bit. “How about we go to the diner a few blocks away? We can get fries and milkshakes!” 

I smiled a bit and nodded, wiping away tears with the back of my hand. Jackson kept his arm around me as we left the party, acting as a wall between Mark and I when we passed him. The three of us walked to the diner, laughing along that way. 

I felt a bit better by the end of the night, but the feeling in my stomach still lingered. I was right, somebody with a face a pretty as Mark Tuan’s is nothing but trouble.

*     *     *

Next Part

@mara-twins​

I’d let Mark Tuan fuck my life up, just sayin’. Anyway, that was part two. I’ll hopefully be able to start working on part three soon. I have two tests with week and a project that I haven’t started due on Friday. Fun Fact: Amanda is based off of my chem lab partner. Lover her bunches. Thank you for all your love and support! <3

[mischiefapprentice]

2: Birth of the Goblin’s Bride

March 1, 2004

Christine Wayland

It has been seven months since I have been saved by a mysterious man from death. The prospect of me dying along with my unborn child gives me chills; it will be my eternal regret. I have prayed to the Divinity for such gift, and it has been granted. What strikes me the most is that he have predicted that my baby will be a girl. How would he know it? How can he foresee what my baby's gender would be? Is he a wizard? A goblin? An astrologer?

No matter. I am forever grateful to him. How should I repay him for saving me and my child from sudden death? He deserves to be thanked. My husband and I are forever indebted to him. Where can we find him? How can we express our gratitude to him?

"Love, is she still bothering you?" My husband chuckles as he wraps his arms around us. Michael is really a sweet man; he never ceased to make me laugh. "No, she's sleeping inside. Don't bother her, you might make her angry." I joked. Suddenly, I feel my water breaking. Oh no. "Love, are you okay?" Michael suddenly comes to my rescue. He sees water streaming down my legs. She's going out! "MICHAEL! MY WATER BROKE!"

He prepares everything we need to bring to the hospital as he calms men. He calls his brother to drive us to the hospital.

"One last push!"

It has been 5 straight hours since the start of my delivery. My husband was always at my side, soothing me as I kept pushing. She's arriving, I thought to myself. She'll be the most loved baby in the world!

"I can see the head now!" The doctor tells us. I kept pushing, motivated with thoughts of seeing my child grow with love and happiness. Michael held my hand, whispering sweet nothings to me. "She's nearing, love. You can do this!"

After giving few more pushes, hearing my baby's cries made me cry with joy. Michael beams at me, smiling his widest I have seen.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Wayland! You have a beautiful and healthy bouncing baby girl!" Our OB-Gyne says to us.

The midwife brings our beautiful daughter to us, swaddled in pink cloth. Her brown eyes are staring back at me, as if she were memorizing my face. Michael smiles at us, and kisses my forehead as he caressed our daughter. "She's got your beauty, love." He remarked. I chuckle as I share the smile he has. "She got your eyes, love." I tell him.

Silence envelopes us as we stare at the window. We see the moon shining its brightest, with weak streams of pink light surrounding it. A pink moon meant prosperity for the spring seasons to come; harvests increase tenfold, many farmers prosper as their crops and grains are on demand. How coincidental; our girl was born during its peak. She's a blessing, indeed.

"What would our daughter's name be?" He asks me. I haven't thought of it yet, though we made a list of all possible names for her. A small memory flashed through my mind.

"Hey Chrissy! How're you today?" My friend Abigail smiles at me as I come closer to our special area.

Abigail Lauren is one of my closest friends back in college. We are one of the top students in the class, and we were known around the school. She is also the girl who set me up with Michael.

"Here, just doing fine. Gosh, I can't believe we are about to graduate in two weeks!" I sigh in exhaustion. Just in time, Michael comes with four water bottles, and he has brought a friend with him. Michael and I are in a relationship already. Don't worry, nothing happened between us yet. Our promises are not to do frisky things while we are still studying.

"Hey, Chis, how are you?" Michael wiggles his eyes at me, much to my annoyance. Well, I love him so much but his face really annoys me. And the nickname? What am I? A cheese? Bah! But don't worry, I have a rebuttal to make. "I'm great, Microphone." I roll my eyes at my boo. I laugh as he pouts at my nickname for him.

Since then, Abigail really is one of our greatest friends. There was this one event that really changed our lives: my first near-death experience. I was looking for a donor for my heart when she donated hers for me to live.

I remember Michael telling me his final words when my doctor found me a donor. They never mentioned who did, until I heard the news Abby died. She sacrificed her life for my sake, and we are forever indebted to her.

"Abigail." "What?" "I'm naming her Abigail, after our friend." I tell my husband. He smiled and nodded in agreement. Our bestie deserves to be recognised, and naming our daughter after her would be dedication.

"She'll be like her. She'll learn the values of love, friendship, and sacrifice. She'll be the smartest woman in the world." He tells me, tears streaming down his eyes.

"From now on, we name you... Abigail." I whisper.

       Loki

Seven months have passed, but still my mind lingers on her and the child she bears. Has she given birth? Is the child doing fine? I know it is a grave mistake to meddle with the cycle of life, but I cannot bear to see a woman cry because of her loss. I also knew the feeling of loosing someone you love.

"Uncle Loki, you seem to be in deep thought." I turn to see Arnie Jason by my door. He clearly hasn't slept yet. "Arnie? Why are you still up? Isn't it past your bedtime already?" I ask as he settles by my side. He lets out a small yawn. "I cannot sleep, Uncle. Can you tell me your story again?"

I smile at his adorableness. Arnie likes the story of how I met the Avengers, though it is quite not a good one. I must admit, I missed them. If I didn't fall into Thanos's hands, maybe I am working with them now. Maybe I didn't stumble onto this quest.

       "Sir, what are you thinking about?" I turn to see William with two cups of Earl Grey tea. He knows when I am stressed with different things. "Oh, it's nothing. Thank you for the tea."

Even I already have my tea with me, I still cannot get my mind off her. Something really tells me that the child she carries is my bride! But, how can I know if she really is the one? What signs do I have to look for? "Are you thinking about your bride?" William asks me. I chuckle and nod. He really knows when I think about her.

"You see, Will, I cannot help but think about the pink moon last night. It was stated that she will be born during its peak. Tell me: would I meet her soon?" I ask him as he lays his cup on the table.

"That, sir, is one question I cannot answer. Let destiny meet you; let her cross your way. She's nearby, I assure you."

       Anonymous

"What do you mean the bride is born already?"

The woman clad in her red robes stared at the window. She was aware of the Goblin and his Bride, and the chance when they meet. However, she wants it not to happen; she'd want to see him suffer than be in peace.

"Today's the peak of the pink moon on Earth, sire. It was stated in the prophecy that she will be born during its peak." Her enchanter tells her as he casts multiple events that showed the Goblin's bride being alive.

She sighs.

"Find a way to make her disappear from earth. Assassinate the bride and her family."

[cruzrogue]

Perfect Party

#Fictober19 @fictober-event

————————————————————————

for fanfiction:

Prompt number: 15   “That’s what I’m talking about!”

Fandom (AU if applicable): #arrow fanfiction #olicity

Rating:PG13

Warnings/Tags: AngstyFluff

Summary: Continuation from prompt 14 College kids: Oliver and Megan (Felicity) become a couple and this is when he finds out her real first name as he tells his kids the story. 

Notes:(This became a monster… there was supposed be no angsty conversation but it happened anyway. I wrote to make another fluff piece but… Ah! Anyways here it is…)

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

Perfect Party on A03

  Cracking open another book to read. Oliver just gazes at where his tutor is sitting reading her own book. She’s plopped down using a sofa as a backrest as her slender legs are over an interior designer’s weird conversational piece. Her heavy long kneed boots are off to the side. She’s reading her least favorite subject of U.S. history as he is taking side notes as he’s reading his textbook of macro-economics. They are both bored out of their minds but they’re under a timer. These minutes belong to these textbooks and they have been both honoring this kind of system of studying.

Oliver won’t argue that since he first took in seriously studying with the help of the Goth girl he met in South Boston by a sidewalk in the late evening hour his grades have steadily improved. To this day she still adheres that she saved him from that lame party. He’ll never know if it was truly lame but he deeply doesn’t care. It’s the party that brought them together thus to him he has no qualms of ever knowing.

The little ding in the background goes off and he lets out a content sigh. He can’t help but watch Megan stretch out like a cat and he inwardly groans because they’re not at that stage of their relationship. She looks so damn sexy all the time and he’s learned that cold showers don’t always work because she’s now always on his mind.

“I’m hungry!”

He’s learned that she has a very vast appetite. As long as tree nuts are not on the menu she can have it all. “What are you hungry for?”

She shrugs but says anyways, “You pick, I chose last time.”

“Greasy or no?”

“Does it matter? You have full control of the pick. Even that rabbit food you’ve successfully added to my diet.”

“Okay, okay! So, I feel like a cheeseburger and some fries.”

He can see the moment that her excitement for meat comes to the forefront as she does this cute gesture of raising her hand in a fist bump.  

“That’s what I’m talking about!”

He just chuckles and it has her cozying up to him as her lips finds his. Mmm… this part of their relationship is gotta be the best. Every kiss they share is full of sizzling potential and they’ve never crossed any lines. For now, they are taking everything slow. She has this thing about slow burn and her explaining it to him was a doozy. Her words cycle around his mind as she’s making herself comfortable on his lap as the phrase refers to stories featuring characters who gradually and naturally fall in love or lust before beginning a romantic or sexual relationship. He won’t suggest to her again that their already in some sort of romantic relationship because it led to her thinking things through the first time and it landed him cursing himself as he lost out on more intimate moments. Yep, he shot his foot off with that mistake he learned not to do it again.

He holds her closer to him enjoying that her chest bumps against his and he knows she can feel how excited he is but she just doesn’t mention it ever. This is girl is becoming a staple in his world and the thought of him now graduating next year while she’ll still be working for her double major has made its presence in his psyche. She just too incredible and they’ve been together for over two semesters now.

The fact that he doesn’t even notice other females has been brought to his attention several times by his male buddies. Using his studies as an excuse he’s keeping more to himself and interacting on a down low with any college partying frat boys. Being honest with himself has been hard. It’s one of the things that has made his growth possible. It would put a lot of stress on his relationship with Megan if she were the sole reason for the changes. Because she doesn’t want to be his savior but he knows her well enough that she believes more in equality. Sharing burdens and stuff. Things he has learned about her through conversations over long noir films, studying moments, and these wonderful make out sessions.

Her perfect weight on his lap not only does things to him but feeling her beside him all the emotions he has deep inside have a way of coming out slowly and after all these long weeks together he wants to tell her that he’s in love with her. He thought about being cheesy a few times but she’d be so disappointed if he went that route. Not on the declaration of love but using time tested romcom samples that are overboard. He finds she has big tastes on technology but doesn’t fancy jewelry given by really anyone.

He landed up giving her signed poster of music groups she loves or that one actress she adores from her favorite show they watch. Buying her a convention ticket to see these people she can recite story lines was like he got down on one knee and proposed. It was amazing how excited she was.

One thing they’re both of aware of is their different social-economics and he is careful to not overwhelm her with family’s status. It would spook her away. It took a bit from him when she found he comes from a wealthy family not to lose her back then. Just lucky they share a close connection.

“Megan, you are such a nerd.”

“I am not apologizing for liking meat.”

He chuckles. “I meant the fist bump. That is such a geeky thing to do.”

She shrugs her shoulder she’s done a lot of other nerdy things she won’t apologize even if he’s just teasing. She shrugs her shoulders she’s done a lot of other nerdy things she won’t apologize even if he’s just teasing. “But you like the thought of me liking meat?” For the first time in their relationship she grinds against him and his eyes become so wide as he is flabbergasted at her forwardness.

“I… I”

“Is Mr. sexy pants mute?”

He nods still wondering what his temptress is doing. Her fingers softly messaging his scalp through the light cropped hair she seems to like. Gosh he’s even sporting scruff that has her kissing his neck since she told him to cut off the beard deep in December after he grew out his facial hair for no shave November. Keeping it trim to this day many months later. Anything that he notices or she out right tells him how much she likes or hates something has him keep to a beauty regimen. Not that he hasn’t had some little says in her own little routines. Like a certain fragrance he admiringly associates with her.

“We are on a break; I’m going to eat a juicy burger and what isn’t there to love?”

“Megan? That isn’t the reason I’m surprised.”

“Hmm… I need to confess something to you and I need you not to get upset.”

Just as quickly as he is aroused, he becomes paranoid that something is going to break this perfection that they have going on.

“As much as I love how you say Megan…”

“Baby I love your name.”

“It’s actually my middle name.” The frozen look on his face has her worried that he may think she’s lied about many other important things. “There is nothing else I’ve kept from you, I just liked using Megan and the way you’d say Meg or Maggie or any other variations just was so perfect but…”

He isn’t totally convinced. He doesn’t understand how she kept something as monumental from him. Everywhere they went he introduced her as Megan his girlfriend. She has yet to meet his parents but the name Megan has fallen from hips a million times conversing with family and friends.

“I mean in reality Megan is still my name.”

He pushes her off slightly and she moves so he can get up. “No!” He just walks to a window in his apartment. They always hang out here because she lives in a dorm. “To think some of your friends having to go along with this farce when they call you by your real name.”

“Oliver? That isn’t the case. I introduce myself to a lot of people as Megan.”

“Really? And how many of these people think about you? Truly care about you? Even dream of you? Simply as what your middle name is?”

She makes a joke of it, “My mother calls me by my whole name either when she’s really happy or annoyed with me.”

“That is supposed to make me feel better?” He is now really agitated. “You don’t get to make this into a joke. Here I am opening myself to you and I don’t even know your name.” He looks away from her. Not allowing her sorrow to change how angry he is becoming.

She knows she in deep trouble he is right and she played the whole name thing lightly not seeing it through his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I would have continued calling you Megan if you have this horrendous name you didn’t want to share at first. Though whatever it is I would love it. Just because it’s a part of you.”

“Wow! I guess I’m a stupid fool I never put much stock into it but I should have and I am really sorry.”

He finally slowly turns to look at his girlfriend and it strikes him he doesn’t even know her name. She can see the realization in his face as he just stares at her blankly.

“It’s Felicity, Felicity Megan Smoak.”

If she thought the frozen look on his face before was concerning whatever is going through her mind is really a shocker.  

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

When Oliver pauses it has his kids on edge. He’s telling the story in a cleaner version of how he learned his wife’s first name. It seems telling his kids this as they wait for their mother to come home may have not been the wisest idea.

“Dad what happened?”

“Yes daddy, did you break up?”

The youngest being so innocent and not truly understanding relationships asks if they ever made up.

Oliver checks his phone and a text by Felicity telling him she’s running late. She finishing up from another conference meeting so he continues on with the story. She’ll be home soon.

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

“Felicity… Fe-li-ci-ty.” He just says her name one more time, “Felicity! I don’t get it. It’s actually a very beautiful name.”

“It’s a cheesy name. It means happiness, I’m a Goth girl.”

Oliver sighs he really doesn’t get it. She has been making him happy all these months. The name is perfect. Now that he knows the truth. As much as she’s been Megan from now on, he’ll always think of her has Felicity. What is the most important matter to him is how long he will get to know Felicity? It seems that maybe he had more emotional attachment to her than she has had of him. Maybe her tutoring him and having him mastering his academia is a thrill for her. She’s one of a kind who is he to really know what goes through that mind of hers? Only that he’d be devastated because along the way he gave her his heart even if he hasn’t said so its implied.

“I know your mad, I guess I really screwed up and I’m sorry.”

“It makes me wonder if I’m just an experiment. A fixer upper that you…”

Felicity looks horrified as she cuts him off, “Oh no. No! You’ve been nothing but the perfect dream. I’m always worried I’d wake up and you’d be over me. Falling in love with you was so easy.” She catches what she just said and her hand goes to her mouth. He is about to break up with her and she’s telling him she loves him. She can be such a fool.

“I couldn’t be over you even if I wanted to.” He doesn’t mention the whole falling in love that could just be faux pas said in haste.

Felicity aches now knowing that he doesn’t even think her declaration of falling for him is seen real to him. That stings. “I should go.”

“That is probably for the best.” Yet neither move. The air is thick with unsaid words as their emotions are crumbling with angst.

Felicity is a smart girl she knows if she walks out there won’t be a them any longer. The them that has been crafted over time. She sucks in a breath; she created this mess and she needs to fix it. “I can’t apologize enough for how my careless way of thinking of things in simplest of facts.” She won’t go without at least telling him how much she loves him. “It being a name.” She sighs as she glances at him and watching that he is listening gives her some hope. “I didn’t take to account the emotional side of all this.” Taking a small pause, “You mean the world to me. Oliver, I love you so much…” She tearing up. “That love is from all of me. Felicity Megan Smoak the daughter of Donna and also a father named Noah who I haven’t seen since I was seven.”

Talking about her parents is like pulling teeth. He knows it hard for her so this acknowledgement means something. She really is trying to amend the situation. It really is just a name. It’s not like he doesn’t know how clinical she can be in her thinking process.

“Noah is a fool of a man letting go of such a bright amazing girl.” He moves up to her just like when they met.

“Maybe I just wasn’t…”

“Shh.” He’s looking down to her, “His failure isn’t your own.” He wipes a few stray tears she has let go. “You mean the world to me too.”

“I do?”

“I love you.” He cups her face and finally kisses the one who has his heart.

Still having his hands on her face, she inquires, “Does that mean you forgive me?”

With a sigh his eyes searching hers, “Of course I’d forgive you. We’ll always see some things differently and there will always be fights that are bound to happen.”

“I don’t like fighting.”

He leans in to kiss her as he tells her the same thing.

She’s a little forward in rubbing her hands just under his shirt. “I heard making up is supposed to be…”

He stops her. They haven’t crossed that line yet and he’ll be damn if their first time is happening this way. “I love you Meg…” He closes his eyes this is going to take some getting used to. “Felicity Smoak but I’m still processing this whole name thing and when we take the next step it won’t be after an argument.”

She nods in agreement.

“So, what about some burgers?”

Felicity stops him from leaving her space as she now holds him to her as she raises on her tiptoes to kiss him.

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

As the door in the back where it leads to the mudroom opens and Oliver takes a pause as his kids are listening to a very clean version of when he found out Megan was indeed Felicity’s middle name. He looks to the newest addition sitting in the high chair just happily gnawing on a teeth ring. Oblivious to his siblings’ excitement until he hears his mother’s voice and all of a sudden his son a babbling genius. A pang of jealousy hit Oliver as his little munchkin doesn’t show him that kind of welcome.

“Mom’s home.”

Felicity welcomes her two youngest with open arms and gives them kisses than she hugs her eldest as she slowly walks into her husband’s embrace. It doesn’t take long for their youngest to disapprove and want his mother’s sole attention.

“Sorry, hi there handsome.” She’s kissing the baby as the other kids settle back down. She looks at the expecting faces and makes sure to look at her husband as she asks, “Did I miss something?”

“I was just telling them about when I learned Felicity was your first name.” She gives him a weary look. “Don’t worry it was the PG version.”

“Did mommy come off as a clown?” She regrets saying those words as her kids start to asking about clowns. She just meant if she came off sounding awful but now she’s denying any clowns were a part of the story their father told them. Oliver is just off to the side observing his wife having to explain herself ah yes those memories fill his mind as he has his lips puckered up. She sure can dig a hole for herself. As he recalls the true lustful events of that study session.

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

“So, what about some burgers?”

“Oliver? I am hungry!” She doesn’t wait for him to truly understand as she already hopping onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist as her lips find that particular spot that has him growl and that’s the purr of his she needs. He catches on quick as he has to keep them from falling as his girl is doing things to him. He unfailingly finds the perfect spot a few steps away to allow her to continue doing this most erogenous thing to his body as she certainly rubs herself on him.

He’s losing the ability to think because just a moment ago he was against this scenario and now his body pretty much told his mind to shut up.  He sinking down deeper onto the sofa she used as a backrest earlier.

There is lips and teeth and the occasion tongue and oh those moans that have both of them panting as they seem to be so lost in each other. Succulent skin that deserves the devotion as hands seem to roam and sweet nips upon each other’s skin only raises the stakes to needing more. Sweet words spilled as some gasps of warm sweet air spurs stimuli onto their hair follicles making for the most enticing shivers.

Felicity has been ready for this for a while, the thought of Oliver’s palms caressing her without barriers of any kind. Even pondering wet dreams of the friction she mostly thirsts for that only he can quench.

At first she teased him. Their relationship wasn’t formed the bonds they have now wasn’t there and it was easy to promise things like promiscuity. Fortunately for them It didn’t work like that because they found that it wasn’t just an attraction that kept them coming to each other’s orbit. They truly sought one another just to discourse what was actually happening in their lives. Until they couldn’t fathom not having the intertwined lives they were leading. Good and bad shared, memories of past conversations, voices becoming lullabies at night and waking thoughts of the other person in mundane tasks. They were falling in love.

It took a stomach rumble which neither could tell if it was theirs but they pulled away laughing. They were good. Though they pulled away from the other knowing that it really wasn’t the right time to go further. There is no hurry.

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

“Come to find out your mommy was very hungry.” Oliver chuckles as his wife actually accidentally demonstrates his point. She is hungry.

The kids try to follow their parents story but there are so many vague points they have no idea what actually happened. They just know that their dad found out what their mom’s name was and that was the end. There was kissing. More kissing. As they watch their dad pull their mom into another hug they know another kiss will happen.

[ferrumfluorite]

heY did you ever write that thing about tailgate and functionalism?

I kdshf gosh no, I didn’t. I haven’t done a meta post in a long time, but seeing as today’s the start of a glorious four day weekend, let’s hit this up rq!

For some of my newer followers, I do occasionally…………. try to dip my toes in character analysis. It doesn’t always go well, but hey! That’s the fun of it. Anyways I very briefly touched on the subject of Functionism being laden in Cyclonus’ upbringing and then again with something Whirl says to him. Both times I was exploring different ideas tho and I didn’t want to segue too hard from them.

The basic idea is that Functionism is an ingrained, albeit subtle facet of how Cyclonus treats Tailgate in the series. 

I’d definitely had more to say about this when it was fresh in my brainspace, but that’s about the crutch of it. A lot of Cyclonus’ attitude we see in the comics absolutely have roots in Functionism, especially when it came to purpose and honor. 

He sticks to his guns here and he’s ready to toss his friend into the smelter, despite Scourge still being Very Much alive and Very Not into the idea, before presumably resigning himself to the same fate. But his ideals manifest very differently in comparison to the rest of his peers.

Galvatron enjoyed the position his high warrior status afforded him and clearly relished in it for the couple million years before he even met Cyclonus. Early Cybertronian days honestly were just like this. And Cyclonus was cultivated in the same crop as a lot of the people we see supporting this hierarchy, functionism, expansion, etc. But interestingly, Cyclonus clearly had a different idea of what Cybertronian conquest meant to him.

This was a pretty stark contrast to the stuff Nova was spewing at the time, and I feel like he must have made his case clear on several occasions. We don’t see a whole lot of interaction between Cyclonus and some of his other crewmates aboard the Ark but there’s a distinct line drawn between them and Cyclonus.

He’s not exactly held in high regard and subject to this imposed hierarchy. And he is reminded of it.

At best, he’s just a missionary that ended up on Galvatron’s good side bc of his fighting skills (with Scourge tagging along as possibly even lower). He came from the same upbringing, but he clearly doesn’t think the same as the likes of Jhiaxus and Nova–Hell, even Galvatron. 

Always just a “hanger on” and never really blatantly in their support (not until the Heart of Darkness comes into play).

Alright, I went a little to the side, but I wanted to get across that Functionism to Cyclonus is, at least, a bit different than how many of his peers perceive it. It’s the same deal, but he’s got a whole lot less active oppression and classism involved, despite the influences of those around him.

So let’s fast forward to the Tailgate bit and that part I mentioned in one of my other posts.

The accusations from Whirl of “He owes you? You own him? He’s not allowed to make other friends?” didn’t strike me until later as–Why that? Sure, we know Whirl was trying his damnedest at the time to keep Cyclonus from interfering with Getaway’s plans. Whirl is represented as a pretty creative and astute individual, and it takes a certain amount of cunning to manipulate Cyclonus. Whirl had to base it on context that Cyclonus would believe and begin to doubt himself.

Which he does. Without warning him later, Cyclonus would have brooded through the whole ordeal and Tailgate left to his fate by Megatron’s hand–Megatron says he wouldn’t have hurt him, but who really knows. Nearly crushing his helm doesn’t do his claim any favors.

Whirl knows the world Cyclonus comes from (being intimately aware of the ideals of Functionism himself), and he knows how he’s predisposed and raised to view lower caste. So he uses it to his advantage in that scene to help drive his point.

Even if Cyclonus clearly has divergent views regarding the rights of other transformers as we see directly in the next issue–

Whirl still preys on it and makes him second guess himself to great effect.

But let’s be real here, Cyclonus didn’t exactly put his best pede forward at being kind to Tailgate upon meeting him. So it’s not as if his previous treatment is without basis.

(I could also include the infamous (and extremely short) physical fight they get into, but I feel the resulting stubbornness on Cyclonus’ end lends more to the argument than the fight itself. That felt strictly a matter of teaching Tailgate not to just hit someone who’s upset him. Not that Cyclonus wasn’t in the wrong either, but his retaliation was one of definitive conclusion to make sure no one freely strikes him unless they intend to actually engage him–A response I think we can expect from a character with his background, and many others aboard the Lost Light.)

Eventually Cyclonus’ feelings for Tailgate develop, but he doesn’t know how to act on them and, at a point, if he even should. @attentiondeficitstarscream​ pointed out to me that it’s def a bit of a Lover/Beloved deal going on where Cyclonus is there and is interested and begins to love after Tailgate, but is loathe to allow it to show beyond his commitment.

And during the events of MTMTE/LL, we see very little of Cyclonus regarding Tailgate as being equal to him. To the effect of that in the beginning there’s aloof indifference and contempt, to straight up placing Tailgate above himself and his well-being.

And this is how Cyclonus fulfills his duties to people he’s committed himself to. It’s archaic and reckless and not the healthiest approach, but it’s what he knows, and what he knows he’s good at.

Once Tailgate rebuffs Cyclonus’ intent to stay with him on the Necroworld, and further still once he finds out Tailgate has “died”, his reaction is as if he’s lost his purpose. Like on Gorlam Prime, he lapses back to believing death is his only conclusion because he’s been robbed of his function. It’s his will that Mederi molds itself to manifest as the Afterspark and he’s happy to be there.

Because, I guess, fuckin’ finally right after he’s near died (and actually died) so many times and the universe is like Nah Keep Going. Now, he doesn’t have to keep living without function and without Tailgate. So he believes, anyways.

Getting Tailgate and, consequently, the root of his function back really was his happy ending here.

All said and done, post Lost Light 25 (in either universe) I feel part of their further development would end up dealing with some of the issues of Cyclonus hanging too much of his perceived worth in his function to Tailgate, among other things. It’s been such a big part of his character as a follower of traditions, of hierarchy, of people and ambitions he regards higher than himself--When he’s left alone and without purpose, well and truly, it’s clear how much he lacks the self-reliance or drive to carve his own path.

[quicksilversquared]

Pictures on the Wall

It started as a tickle of a thought in Alix Kubdel's mind- wouldn't it be funny to plaster Marinette's room in pictures of her crush?

She didn't expect a TV crew to show Marinette's room on TV before her friend could fully finish cleaning the room up.

(Troublemaker fix-it/AKA why Marinette has So. Many. Pictures. on the wall)

(FF.net) (AO3)

It started out as a tickle of a thought in the back of Alix Kubdel's mind. She snickered briefly at it and then refocused on her homework, re-reading a passage for French Lit.

But the idea was not forgotten. Not fully, at least.

"I don't think he's capable of taking a bad photo," Marinette said dreamily the next day as their little group of girls sat together during a break between classes. She was staring at a page in a fashion magazine. Alix didn't have to be a genius to deduce that Marinette was talking about Adrien yet again. "He's just so-"

"I'm pretty sure that his father and the photographer probably weed out any photos that aren't great," Alix told her, cutting Marinette off before she could finish her sentence. She really didn't need to hear about how dreamy or handsome or bla bla bla Adrien was another time. Ever since Marinette and Alya had decided to "let her in" on the "secret" of Marinette's crush on Adrien (it wasn't a secret. It really wasn't. Even Kim had caught on ages ago, which said something about how obvious Marinette was), she had had to hear Marinette's gushing.

(Alix was starting to think that Alya had only pushed to let the other girls in on the 'secret' so that she wouldn't have to put up with the Adrien-talk by herself. As much as it could annoy her, Alix couldn't really blame Alya for that.)

Besides, Adrien was hardly dreamy and cool all the time Anyone who believed that believed in a lie, because Adrien was a giant dork. Anyone who spent more than a few minutes with him knew that much. It was hard to keep a straight face around Marinette's dreamy sighs over Adrien when Alix had seen him fighting to keep a pencil balanced on his nose longer than Nino earlier in the day and pouting when he lost, or when she had spotted him making outrageous hair styles with his ridiculously long hair.

(Despite what Marinette said about Adrien being able to pull off any look, Alix knew better. Adrien could not pull off a mohawk. It just... no.)

Still, Marinette was stubbornly shaking her head. "I bet they only have to choose between great photos! He does a great job with his modeling-"

And Alix tuned her out, mind churning deviously as the others discussed ideas for having Marinette ask Adrien out.

Surely there had to be some awkward photos of Adrien out there, considering how much of a following he had in Paris and how many photos got snapped of him on a daily basis. And some of his fans would post any photos of him, even bad ones, just to prove that they had seen him.

Alix decided to make it her personal mission to track all of those photos down to bury Marinette under them. And what she found made her very, very happy.

There were so many photos of Adrien looking supremely uncomfortable as he was pulled into a selfie with one fan or another (those got cropped so Adrien's ridiculous expressions filled the whole screen). There were photos of him dashing down the street away from fans, photos of him laughing with friends, photos of him with his bodyguard and Nathalie, photos of photoshoots but from another angle, photos of him getting photoshoot makeup touched up, photos of him messing around and purposefully pulling weird faces.

In short, there were a lot of photos. Not all of them were good. Alix cackled as she printed them all off and stuck them in a folder to bring to school. She would have to spring them on Marinette when Adrien wasn't anywhere in the vicinity or else face the combined wrath of Alya and Marinette (which she was not willing to do), but she was sure that that wouldn't be that difficult.

She wasn't expecting Alya to intercept her first.

"Oh, you should put those up in Marinette's room and see how long it takes for her to notice," Alya's voice said with a snicker several minutes before homeroom started. Alix jumped and spun around, abruptly abandoning her conversation with Kim. Alya stood there, perusing Alix's folder of ridiculous Adrien photos. How she had snuck up completely undetected was... well, it was very Alya. "I bet it would take her a while to notice."

Alix snickered at the suggestion, remembering her original idea of absolutely plastering Marinette's room in Adrien photos. It would be a good way to tease her about her crush a little bit while maybe helping her realize that she should calm down about having pictures of Adrien up everywhere. "Or I can mix in actual decent photos with these and then stick them in all sorts of weird places."

Alya grinned. "Such as...?"

"On the walls, under her bed, in the desk drawers..." Alix added, that original funny idea coming back full-force. She grinned, then glanced towards Marinette's normal seat. It was empty, as was Adrien's seat up front. "Where is Marinette, anyway? She's running late again."

Alya threw a look over her shoulder and then shrugged. "Who knows. But that gives us time to plot." Without waiting for further answer, she slid onto the bench next to Alix. "So, show me what you have!"

It wasn't difficult to find a time to sneak into Marinette's room when Marinette herself wasn't there. It was difficult to find places to put all of the photos they had dragged up.

And there were a lot. Along with the less-than-good photos, Alya had dragged up a whole slew of photos from old magazine ads Adrien had done, as well as screenshots from some of his commercials. Alix was a bit worried that the poster putty she had brought wouldn't be enough.

"At least her desktop picture isn't so awful anymore," Alix commented as she reached over the computer to attach one of the pictures on the wall behind it. "That was...yikes."

"I think she changed it when Adrien came over to play Mega Strike," Alya told her. She handed Alix a smaller photo to hang next. "And then she went with an, uh, unaltered photo next, after he left. I don't remember if she lost the collage one somehow or what."

"Good riddance to that one," Alix muttered. She clambered off of Marinette's desk, making sure to replace everything on it where it had been. "Okay, where should that next poster go?"

Half an hour later, Marinette's room was thoroughly decorated and she and Alya were puzzling over what to do with the leftover pictures.

"We can't put them too high, or Marinette won't be able to get them down again," Alya said. She flipped over a particularly bad photo of Adrien doing what appeared to be a Vulcan salute. Alix had maybe done a teensy bit of Photoshop on it to make an already pretty bad picture worse (and to get rid of the "fan" who, in Adrien's defense, looked slightly unhinged), and she was...well, a bit creeped out by the result would be the most accurate description. "Where did you find this?"

"Photoshop."

Alya snorted in amusement. "Oh, gosh. Okay, let's stick these under Marinette's bed and on the underside of her chaise and see how long it takes for her to notice. There's no point in wasting a perfectly good picture."

"Or a perfectly awful photo." Alix made another face at the Vulcan salute photo and then handed it to Alya to take. "Okay, yeah, good idea."

It didn't take long to stash away the rest of the photos and get the rest of their mess cleaned up so that they could go. Alya led the way towards Marinette's trapdoor, opening it and starting to climb down.

Alix paused, turning to look back at the room one last time. An inkling of doubt crept up her spine. "You're sure there's no way that Adrien would see this? He wouldn't come over to play video games again before Marinette can clean up?"

Alya shook her head. "Nah, he wouldn't come over out of the blue. And you know he would never go into Marinette's room without her permission, and she would want to clean up her normal posters before letting him up. Believe me, it'll be fine."

  "I hate you," Marinette announced the next day at school as soon as she saw Alya. She was pouting. "Very funny."

Alya tried not to grin. "It was Alix's idea first. She helped me."

"I hate you both."

  "Aren't you going to take the pictures down?"

Marinette glanced up from her homework at Tikki. "Hmm?"

Tikki pointed to the pictures covering all of Marinette's walls. "The pictures! Shouldn't you take them down?" She frowned at Marinette. "You aren't thinking of leaving them up, are you? Marinette..."

"I'll take them down, just not right now," Marinette said, turning back to her homework. "I just don't have the time! I'm really behind on my schoolwork, thanks to all of the akumas we've had, and I shouldn't prioritize cleaning photos off of my walls over that."

"Oh, that's smart." A pause. "But you'll take care of it soon, right?"

"Of course!"

  "Marinette, about these pictures..."

Marinette shook her head, eyes not leaving the computer screen in front of her as she typed. "This is due tomorrow. I'm already on thin enough ice with Madam Mendeleiev, I can't possibly ask for an extension for no apparent reason. It'll have to wait."

Tikki considered the wall. "Can I take some of them down? The really awkward ones?"

"Sure, I guess."

Tikki worked her way around the room, removing the worst of the photos from the wall. It was slow work, mostly because she had to remove the poster putty from the wall as she removed things, and she didn't want to accidentally leave any marks like she and Marinette had in their frantic tearing-down of posters when Adrien visited. Once she was done, there were still a lot of photos, but at least they were mostly normal.

Hopefully Marinette would have a spare hour soon to finish returning her room to its normal state.

  "Marinette, are you going to take the photos down today?"

Marinette paused with one foot out the door. "I can't! I told Maman that I would help down in the bakery. Tomorrow, for sure!"

  Marinette had pulled three large photos down when her phone rang with an akuma alarm. Sighing, she tossed the picture in her recycling without a second glance (she was never going to mention how photogenic Adrien was within Alix's hearing range ever, ever again- where the other girl had found such awful photos she had no idea) and raced up to her balcony to transform.

  "About those photos-"

"Still behind!"

  "Can I take more photos down?"

Marinette glanced up from her Physics homework. "Yeah, I guess? Just don't do this area, I don't want to get distracted."

Tikki frowned. "Marinette, I'll have to take down those photos sometime. Can't you work somewhere else? Downstairs, maybe?"

"I'll do it this weekend, after the Jagged TV thing," Marinette promised. "But for right now, I can't. I need to use my computer for this assignment."

  Alix stared at her TV in horror. There, in full color on the screen, was Marinette's room.

And Marinette's wall.

And a number of the pictures of Adrien that she and Alya had put up two weeks prior.

And Jagged Stone was pointing to them and the camera was focusing on them, bringing them up full-screen.

"She didn't take them down?" Alix exclaimed, fingers clutching at her hair. How? Why? Sure, Marinette had mentioned being crazy busy and really behind after spending time working on a sewing project instead of doing her homework, but surely she could have spared a couple minutes to clear her walls.

At least it looked like she had gotten the purposefully bad photos down, and most of the room was largely free of pictures. It was just that corner of the room, really-

-but that one corner was really bad. Like, it was plastered with pictures, from desk to ceiling.

This was bad.

Her phone rang, and Alix scrambled to answer it. "Hello?"

"We gotta fix this," Alya said, sounding panicked. "Oh, gosh. I never thought- no one else was meant to see that! At least it wasn't her entire room, but- Adrien's gonna be so weirded out, and it won't even be her fault."

"Maybe we can text him?" Alix suggested. "Let him know that it was part of a prank? Even if half of those photos were Marinette's anyway." It would be their apology to Marinette if they did that, she figured. Everyone else would forget about the photos after a few weeks, but Adrien wouldn't, and Marinette would probably flounder through an explanation too badly to be any use if Adrien approached her with any questions. "Should we text him now, or wait until school tomorrow?"

"Do you think we can get to him before he spots Marinette?" Alya asked, not even waiting for Alix to answer before she plowed on. "I think it would be hard to explain anything over text, personally, but- oh! I could call him, hang on-"

The line abruptly went dead and Alix flopped back in her seat, watching the screen. Marinette had chased the cameras out of her room- and Alix had to give her props for how composed she was keeping herself while surely embarrassed beyond belief, and she was ordering Jagged Stone and Alec around too, and they were celebrities- and now Tom and Sabine were trying to shoo the crew out completely, except some strange stuff seemed to be happening.

Like, mega-strange stuff.

Alya called Alix back a minute later, once it had been confirmed that there was an akuma at the bakery- and poor Marinette, she must be having an awful day- and Alya sounded frantic. "He's not answering his phone. I tried calling three times and nothing."

"Maybe the pretty boy is busy and missed the show?" Alix suggested. "You could ask Nino."

"Nino is out of town this weekend. He won't be back until Monday." Alya groaned. "Oh, this is such a mess."

"Maybe we can just wait until Monday?" Alix suggested as she watched Chat Noir get flung into a news van on-screen. "I mean, Adrien is always early and Marinette is almost always running in last-minute anyway. Surely we can catch him before Marinette gets there."

"Sounds like a plan," Alya agreed. "So, any ideas for excuses as to why we covered Marinette's room in pictures of Adrien?"

  Adrien wasn't in the classroom. It was three minutes to the bell, and Adrien wasn't in the classroom yet.

Alix was starting to get concerned. How were they meant to corner Adrien and give their excuses if the boy was MIA?

And then, a minute before the bell, Adrien slipped through the door and into his seat. Marinette followed forty-five seconds later.

There was no way they hadn't run into each other in the locker room. Alix hoped that Marinette hadn't said anything too strange to him. If she had, all the excuses in the world from Alix and Alya wouldn't help anything.

They cornered Adrien in their next break between classes.

"Hey, you two, what's up?" Adrien asked. He looked a little puzzled about being cornered, but it only barely showed. "I saw you tried to call me yesterday, Alya- sorry I didn't pick up, I was busy."

"You're always busy, we're used to that," Alya said cheerfully, waving it off. "But, uh, we wanted to talk to you about something- well, admit something, rather- anyway, did you see the Jagged Stone show yesterday?"

Alix tried not to snort. For a moment there, Alya had sounded rather like Marinette trying to talk to Adrien.

"I did," Adrien told them, grinning. "Jagged looked like a ghost with the flour all over him, didn't he? I'm glad Tom and Sabine were willing to kick them out, though. They didn't have to go all the way upstairs."

Alix winced. "So you saw that part, huh?"

Adrien's answering nod was so slight that it would have been easy to miss it.

"The wall of photos was actually our fault," Alya admitted. "We put it up as a joke- we hid photos all over her room, actually, we should probably actually tell Marinette about that, if she hadn't found those- and she's apparently been too busy to get it all cleaned up."

Adrien looked puzzled. "Wait, that was you guys? Then why didn't Marinette just say so? And why pictures of me?"

Alix and Alya exchanged a surprised look. Apparently Marinette and Adrien had already talked, and Marinette hadn't made a complete mess of it.

Maybe they should have talked to Marinette to see what she had told him first.

"Maybe she just didn't want to explain the prank?" Alya suggested after another couple beats. "A-and it was pictures of you because of, y'know, the fashion thing, and it's really easy to find pictures of you. It wasn't anything bad at all, I swear."

Adrien huffed out a small laugh at that. "It is easy to find pictures of me, isn't it? It's a bit annoying at times. But I guess it saves my father from having to take photos of me growing up himself." He shrugged. "But thanks, I guess? That would explain why some of the photos weren't from any of my photoshoots. I did wonder."

"Heh heh yeah, that was us." Alya flashed a too-wide smile. "It was just a bit of fun, y'know? We wouldn't have done it if we knew it was going to get onto TV."

"Right, I figured." Adrien glanced over to where Nino and Max were talking. "Thanks for telling me, I guess. See you in class?"

"Of course," Alya and Alix said in near unison as Adrien waved to them and left. They both let out a sigh relief as soon as he was out of earshot and then dissolved into giddy giggles.

"Well, that was easier than I thought it would be," Alya said a bit breathlessly as they recovered. "He kind of accepts any excuse, doesn't he? He probably made it really easy for Marinette to come up with something."

"Hey, I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth." Alix started walking towards their next class, and Alya followed. "Adrien listened to us, and apparently Marinette managed to get some coherent sentences out around him earlier, so that's a win. And Jagged and his crew didn't manage to, say, upend the chaise and scatter photos all over on live TV, so win there too, I guess."

They walked in silence for a few moments.

"So d'you think you could make it over to Marinette's house after school today?" Alya asked as they joined the group of students heading into Madam Mendeleiev's classroom. "To help Marinette take down posters and clean up all of the photos we hid? I feel like we kind of owe it to her to help."

Alix winced. She had been planning on practicing her roller-skating sprints, but yeah, they did kind of owe it to Marinette. She had probably already spent enough time taking stuff down already, and Alya might not be able to remember all the places where they hid photos away.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be there."

[tragicquartet]

Halloween Special Drabble: Wrath

(([Content/Trigger Warning: this drabble contains several graphic scenes of blood and gore, impalement, bleeding out, broken limbs, negative thoughts, and allusion to child abuse. Reader discretion strongly advised.] Hello everyone, happy Halloween! Gosh, I love this time of year, don't you? The decorations, the candy, the holiday cheer...and what better way to celebrate the day then with a story, huh? How about a ghost story? A ghost story about a certain malevolent spirit of Wrath and Vengeance. Gather around the campfire, friends, because today I tell a new story to you all, although it will take us all the way back to the day that this spirit died, and even farther back than that, and we will go where I don't think I've led you all to before, at least not in full... Deep, deep into Mallew's mind: you'll be right there to experience his nighterrors with him, doesn't that sound exciting?! You'll be right there to see all the blood and gore, experience all his pain and sorrow with him, sounds lovely, yes? On this fine Halloween, I tell the tale of Mallew, for the first time ever, refusing to indulge his urges at their peak, and invite you to join for all the consequences and surreal horror that results, diving deep into his mind to join him as comes face to face with his greatest enemy of all... Himself. Happy Halloween!)) 

Losing it. He could feel himself losing it. His grip on reality. His patience, his perseverance slipping through his fingers like water. 'Keep it together,' he thought. A feeling crawling up his spine like pinpricks, turning into small blips of pain, turning into deep, sharp shocks of agony that couldn't be ignored. Keep it together. "No, no stop..." He was trying to talk himself out of it, talk himself out of the thoughts that were rising in him, golden locket heart shuddering, scraping against itself as he fought the feeling back. "I don't have to, I don't have to." He'd have to. He would definitely have to. This kind of feeling didn't just crop up and get ignored: given half a reason to do so, he'd tear into the closest living thing... And it was only getting worse. "Stop, STOP." It was like commanding the earth to stop turning on its axis, asking the sea to stop crashing against the shore, asking the sky to drop to earth: it wasn't possible, and he could feel it rising, ever higher and higher... Rising like a tide, warm and pulsing, made of blood, intoxicating and undeniable, pooling at his feet. Clawing through him like fire through wood. Suffocating, smothering him, snuffing him out like a water over a flame. "S-St-Stop!" Helpless, pulled along by the flow of his own thoughts, his own twisted, corrupted, and unyielding mind, Mallew could feel himself being pulled beneath the waves of his own conscience, falling to his knees, grabbing his head as he tried to fight it, his urges drowning him, choking out what little remained of resistance, temperance in him, calling to him, beckoning him to indulge in violence, the feeling slowly swarming throughout him, closing in all around him, suffocating him as it built and built up to a screaming, horrifying crescendo- "STOP!"  ... There was nothing. Nothing at all at first, Mallew slowly peeling his hands off of the side of his head, opening his eyes... Long, tall corridors. Old wood, rotted and cold. Empty blackness outside of the windows, framed by motionless, dust-covered drapes. Cold. Cold... And all tinted green. "..." He knew this place: this was the setting of many of his night terrors, the nightmares that never left him, even after he waked, him never having the luxury of forgetting his dreams. Had he knocked himself out? Passed out after trying to suppress his urges? Or was this something else? Knowing from years of night terrors not to stand still in this place, he moved. His feet stumbled heavily on the rickety floor: he was always helpless in his dreams. Without flight. His body made of weak, solid living flesh. His lungs hungry for air, no matter how stale, toxic, or thin it may be. His fire gone. His powers gone. His fear exponentially amplified. This was the prison of his own mind, where, when body slept, unable to carry out the murder his mind craved, his urges would turn their desire for violence inward, aiming for Mallew himself as he slept, and tonight... They would strike a particularly low blow. "Ugh!" Mallew leaned against a wall, gasping for air as he stepped down the hall, already in pain, lungs aching, head swimming as he tried to keep moving. He couldn't tell what was after him, but that was hardly the point: all he knew was that he couldn't let it get him. Struggling forward, he tried one of the doors along the corridor, it shuddering at his touch, but remaining shut. Another, and it actively shocked his hand, touching it. Another, and the doorknob melted in his hand, burning his skin with molten metal. "Augh!" He grabbed his wrist, grunting and gritting his teeth as he waited for the pain to dissipate, and although the molten metal did eventually drip off his hand, pooling on the ground with a derisive hiss, the burn stayed snaked across his skin... The wound had cleaved through his flesh, leaving the bone exposed, while all the skin around it ached with a horrible, ceaseless sizzle. He tried not to touch it, not to think about it, the door in front of him now hanging open, neither the doorknob nor the mechanism holding it shut it there anymore, Mallew taking this oppurtinity to step through the threshold, duck out of the hall and away to what he hoped would be safety... He couldn't let himself be caught. Stepping into the darkness beyond the door, he felt the ground drop: it was a downward slope in pitch blackness, Mallew's footing unsure, his hands reaching around for a wall, a railing, some point of reference upon which to grasp, to find his place. Eventually, the echoes of his heavy breathing, his grunts and yelps of pain as his hand continued to ache began to narrow, amplify, a wall finally brushing against the tips of his outstretched fingers as he moved towards the first semblance of what appeared to be light that he had seen in what felt like hours. He followed the source carefully, hands pricked, scraped, and pressed up against sharp stone walls as he stepped closer and closer towards the light... A dim, foggy, magenta glow. Stepping forward, his footfalls guided by both the steep terrain and the need to move towards the light, feeling again that he had been followed, he hoped the light would bring him safety. Eventually he reached the end of the long, dark chasm, his eyes momentarily blinded as the room opened before him. When his vision finally adjusted, he found himself upon a ledge, sloped and jagged, reaching high above a bed of sharp, blood-slicked stalagmites, far below. "N-No..." Not needing this horrid reminder of his fate, Mallew immediately turned on his heels, stepping away, attempting to flee and was- "Urk!" -grabbed by someone's hand, his throat clenched by sharp, burning hot claws, his legs lifted effortlessly from the ground, left kicking, finding no purchase onto his attacker who, through the momentary panic and pain, Mallew recognized all too well... Himself. Smiling wickedly, heavily-fanged skull visible through its flesh as it dangled him, helpless and choking, from its grasp. Mallew had never been attacked by himself in his dreams before, and, in that moment of self-recognition, he uttered a single confused syllable, unable to breathe with it clamping down so hard on his throat: "Wh-" "You deserve this, you know." The voice was his, but lacked any semblance of his usual tone: it was loud, echoing, truly monstrous and thunderous, having lost all cadence and semblance of  humanity. What was this? "Wh-Wha-" "This is for what you did to me, TRAITOR." The monster licked its lips, its long black tongue trailing along its suddenly bloodstained teeth as Mallew felt it shift its grasp, dangle him farther out over the pit of spikes below, Mallew screaming, begging in his mind for this not to happen. His night terrors took him to many dark places, but never here, never to relive this, never to experience a moment that not even his unreliable, distorted memory could tear away from him. The way he died. He clutched, clawing at the arm of his mirror image, trying desperately to get it to stop, to which it only smiled wider, human face completely gone as it boomed, gleefully, skeletal visage mocking Mallew as it roared: "I'll see you Hell!" It let go. Mallew tried to scream, but only a hoarse, choked cry escaped him. And then, without even a moment to brace himself... He hit them. They drove through his flesh like it was nothing. The pain was insurmountable. His terror beyond realized. He cried and screamed, but all that emerged was a spray of blood, sound lost in the gurgle of fluid as he fought desperately, hopelessly to pull himself off of the stalagmites, cutting his hands on the sharp rock again and again, to no avail, making his grip more and more useless as his hands were slicked more and more with blood. There was nothing but pain, nothing but terror, a blind, screaming terror as his body choked, lungs convulsing for air that they couldn't even hold anymore, one of them ruptured, the other bruised and quickly filling with blood, his once great strength now having no foothold, no grip, no ability to save him from this fate. And now, not even death could release him, because, after all... He was already dead. Asleep, in his own mind, the weight of years of suffering alone in his mansion warping and twisting to form a murderous, fiery monster, it all starting from this very place, this very moment, his gruesome death, which he had now relived in full... But this time there would be no miraculous rebirth, no resurrection of his spirit into a powerful apparition of Love and Vengeance, later warped into a thing of Wrath and Vengeance, no. This was his Hell, and he, dreaming, could not force himself to awaken. He could only sit there, body broken, bleeding out, in more pain, terror, and agony than his dreams had ever given him before. It felt like months until he moved again, until he was finally able to, after ages of painful scraping and slippery, blood-caked hands, he pulled himself slowly off of the spikes, maneuvering himself down onto the ground, him lying there shaking, bleeding, sobbing horribly, pitifully as blood continued to drip out of his maw, Mallew sure that, at some point, he would surely bleed himself dry... When would all of this end? He sat there, frightened and alone, for quite some time and then, forcing himself to his feet, he finally lifted his head... And found himself somewhere new, or, should he say, somewhere very, very old. The floors were a fine polished hardwood, the walls a pristine white, gilded with golden trim, smelling of pinewood and the faint, distant scent of something sweet being baked as the day neared its end. He knew this place anywhere. Home. His childhood home. How did he get here? He struggled along the wall, leaning against it for support, dragging one of his legs, now hopelessly damaged, unable to bend nor support his weight, behind him, until he found a familiar door. He pushed beyond it, entering a darkened room, the world outside the window nothing but a pitch black void, the room itself as neat as it ever had been... A shelf of books on one wall, a display of dolls on the other (many of which were alpacas), a walk-in closet on the side, door ajar, and a tv in the corner, several Sailor Moon DVDs littering the floor around it, arranged neatly by season. All familiar sights. He wasted no time in stumbling over to the oversized bed in the center of the room, gingerly sliding up onto it, laying on his back as he continued to bleed, letting out a pitiful, defeated moan of pain as he laid there, despondent. Of all the places for his night terrors to send him, why the cave...and why here, afterwards? He closed his eyes, sobbing hopelessly, feeling utterly helpless as he sat there, trying to remain lucid, avoid the wave of sadness that was rising in him being in this place again, reliving the home he had once called his... Before the apartment. Before the cave. Before his betrayal. Before he warped into the thing he had become. It had been a prison in its own right, and even now he feared that some nightmarish version of his father may be lurking the halls here, but to be reminded that, at one point, his life hadn't been ceaseless anger and suffering... It made him feel truly helpless inside. 'Pathetic.' The word hung in his head like a slur. 'PATHETIC.' "You." The sudden voice roused Mallew from his sobs, from his quickly downward spiraling thoughts. He turned towards it, finding a figure standing beside the bed, a look of concern on its face. It was him. Him as a child, barely five years old, he'd wager, holding an alpaca plush in its grasp, bushy mullberry purple hair hanging over its eyes... Which were empty, black eyesockets, no irises to be found within. "You shouldn't be here," the child said, Mallew feeling its gaze upon him as he tried to turn his head a bit, address the child properly as he laid there, bleeding out. "I-I'm sorry: I just needed to lie down for a second. S-Sorry about the mess, I'll go-" "No, not that," the child clarified, narrowing it's empty, cavernous eyes as it continued, "you shouldn't be here at all. It's never sent you here before." "It?" Mallew asked, coughing up a large glob of blood, hot and painful, from his throat, shuddering as he cleared his throat and continued: "what do you mean, it?" The child was silent, only pressing a finger to its lips, whispering, ominously, "we don't give things like it a name, names only give things like this power. You know that." "...what does it want from me?" "You must have angered it, done something it didn't want you to. It's trying to teach you something." "...how do I get it to stop?" "I don't know if you can from here," the child said, quietly, running its fingers through the faux fur of its doll, "it does what it wants, where it wants, how it wants. I don't think it has a mind..." The child looked down at the ground, despair audible in its tone: "...but it does have a will." "...what does it want?" The child looked Mallew dead in the eye, striding up next to him, placing a small hand on his bloodied shoulder, frowning: "You can't beat it by force." "What does it want, though-" "You can't punch it, you can't light it on fire-" "How do I beat i-" "It wants you to forget everything else but what it wants-" "Is it me, i-is it you?! I don't understan-" "It wants you to remember why it's here." Mallew went silent as the child did, his eyes eventually glancing past it, seeing a figure hiding in the doorframe. A short, skinny little kid, no older than five either, his little hands pressed against the doorframe as he half-hid behind it, but Mallew saw enough... He saw its spiky blonde hair, and deep, intelligent amber eyes. Mallew sat up in bed suddenly, making his younger mirror image flinch as he  yelled, as loud as he could in his current state: "What's he doing here?!" The child Mallew only frowned, explaining, sternly: "He's just as much a part of who you are now as anyone else. He has his place here. You can't make that go away." "..." Mallew growled, shifting his weight on the now blood-soaked bed, getting to his feet. "How do I wake up?!" "You'll only wake up when it's done with you." Mallew grumbled to himself as he stood, stumbling towards the door with his useless leg dragging behind him. The child Arthur recoiled as he stepped closer and closer, falling back onto its butt as Mallew stumbled through the door, the child staring up at him with fear on its face... Mallew turned to his child doppelganger back in the room, pointing at the Arthur with an angry finger, warning his younger self, as if it could somehow retroactively change fate: "DON'T hang out with this one, he's dangerous." And with that, he pushed past the door and down the hall, taking one moment as he passed the cowering child Arthur, shaking as it peered up at him, to hiss: "Traitor." ~~~ Mallew walked for what felt like years. He went to many places, each as unsettling as the last: The rest of his childhood home, empty and cold, haunted by familiar scents and sights, but no one there. A forest filled with rotten, sharp trees and heavy, acidic air that made his lungs burn. A hospital, empty save one room: a well-lit and welcoming morgue, filled with body bag after body bag, each containing himself. Another room, ceiling as high as the sky, him surrounded by a forest of skyscraper-sized bones, all cracked, shattered, and familiar. His mansion, weathered by hundreds of years of abandonment, left to rot, his underlings and cats long gone, the place no longer his. The apartment, floating like debris in a black void, nothing left but a couch, a note scribbled in awful handwriting that he couldn't even read, and a single blue rose in a dried-out vase. He was losing his patience, and his mind. His nighterrors usually lasted a good long time, but this was something new. He felt like he had been here for years now, and he was slowly losing what little remained of his hope for escape. Was he even going to wake up at all, at this point? Would his twisted mind finally consume him? Eventually, he made his way to a familiar place: his basement, and, in particular, to the chamber where his coffin lay. He stumbled across the cold stone floor: he had spent many long years lying in wait here. In his heyday, this was where he liked to sleep, surrounded by row after row of carefully curated bones, bodies, and possessions of his victims, his coffin in the center of it all. But now there was nothing here but the coffin itself: it stood, ominously, the walls around it long since deteriorated, drapes, wallpaper, and carpet all warped, broken, and unkempt. He could feel it: this was the place. There was nowhere else to wander to: this was where IT wanted him. His old resting place, the place where the remains of countless souls had been gathered like the most precious hoard in the world... And it greeted him with a warm, WARM welcome. The lid to the coffin barely cracked open, a thick slick of black fluid flowing from it, Mallew feeling the pure oppressive, corruptive heat emanating from the rancid gunk, even from here. He had gotten sick on his own ectoplasm before, had even his own powerful essence drained by it upon touch. It would rise in his throat whenever he'd become particularly monstrous, then burn him after he returned to normal like bile, like even his insides wanted him dead, resented him for returning to a more human-like state... So when it burst from the coffin, flooding into the room and flowing against his feet, burning him, he wasn't surprised, by he was surprised by just how hot it was. It was like touching lava, a burning heat so beyond searing that it numbed all other sensation that just roiling, awful heat, like metal cutting to the bone. Feeling that pain, though, he stood his ground: he knew there was nowhere else to go, nowhere else to run, and that, if he wanted to escape this, get away from this thing, he had to face it... And so, he waited. The flood of ectoplasm eventually ebbed, the coffin lid beginning to sliding slowly open...then thrust loudly, aggressively ajar, the lid going flying across the room, Mallew covering his head with his weak, injured and punctured arms. The lid didn't hit him, but the presence of the thing that had emerged from the coffin did, and, slowly opening his eyes, lowering his arms and lifting his head to face it, Mallew felt only one thing... Absolute, primal FEAR. The thing was huge. It towered far overhead, approaching him on all fours just to fit in the space as it tore itself, ripping and snarling, from the coffin. Mallew stared up at it, but in the dark, with little to no light to go by and its gigantic form blocking what little there was, there was only so much he could discern. He could see its massive claws, landing on either side of him like pillars. He could feel its boiling hot breath on him, making his injuries ache and his body feel even weaker, lungs gasping for usable air as it seemed to consume it all, use all available oxygen for its own heat. He could hear it breathing, a low, angry cycle of inhales and exhales, like it was barely containing its urge to tear him apart. It had no eyes, not even eyesockets, just hungry, massive, skeletal jaws, with row after row of teeth that reached back down its throat as far as the eye could see, all the way back to the back of its maw, where Mallew could make out only the faintest hint of light... A burning, churning pinprick of white, painful light, that, upon looking at it, finally made him fall to his knees, its heat being felt even here, a heat and a pain so intense that it made Mallew scream from his mouth, his mind, and his soul. The thing, the power at the core of this creature could only be described with one word, and Mallew didn't dare say it, despite him knowing it to be true... Hellfire. And it was all for him. He was shaking, body in immense, burning agony as he heard the thing's breathing move in closer to him, close in around him as massive jaws opened wide, razor-sharp fangs, like so many stalagmites, and boiling Hellfire, hotter than anything he could ever hope to summon, called out to him, beckoning him like prey to an anglerfish's lure... He had no choice if he wanted to wake up. This was his doing, and this beast was his burden to bear. It may not be sentient. It may not make sense. It may not have a name, but Mallew knew that there was no escaping it. It had the will to make him suffer, and it would get what it desired, for it only had one thing it wanted Mallew to know... That no matter how much he changed, no matter how much he fought, ignored, and tried to outsmart it, it would always win. Mallew would give in, sooner or later, and blood would on his hands again. It was a part of him, as much a part of him as his childhood, that night in the cave, and Arthur, too, and, if he wanted to do well by it, he would remember its name... Wrath. Finally satisfied that Mallew had submitted to it, its jaws snapped shut, carving through Mallew's flesh like it was nothing, Mallew feeling every agonizing, searing, painful shred of his form falling apart, the beast making one last conviction clear... If he ever did manage to get rid of it, he himself would not be far behind. ~~~ Mallew awoke on the floor of his mansion, near gone. His irises burned barely above an ember, his false human skin all but disappeared, his form skeletal, his anchor aching horribly as he laid there, the room lit only by moonlight trickling in through the windows. Mallew laid there, cracked skull lying against the hardwood floor, staring out at the forest beyond, the trees silhouetted against the darkened sky, branches waving in the nighttime breeze, and, as he laid there, he noticed that something was missing... His urges: they were SILENT. They had been subdued by that whole nightmarish experience, about as well as his usual methods did. How...curious. "Ha...ha ha...ha haha ha haaaa..." He laughed, but it was no laugh of triumph, only relief. He was awake, still alive...but only barely. His urges had been pushed back, but nearly at the cost of his own self, and even then it seemed he had only survived because his urges, whom he would not name, had willed him to do so. It had tortured him for what had felt like centuries...but he had emerged, and, as far as he could tell, rolling over onto his back, looking his clawed hands, black suit, and skeletal form over, he hadn't, in fact, given into his urges in the interim. He laughed, sitting there on the floor of the grand entry room of his mansion, his voice a raspy, pained echo...but he was alive. He had told his urges no, and, frightened though he was, badly injured in both mind and body he may be, spared from destruction, perhaps, only by his urges' mercy towards him, he was alive... And he hadn't taken a life, this time. He giggled to himself as he stood, floating towards his bedroom with an odd sort of despairing hope, accepting rebellion, and blissful agony in his badly battered and exhausted mind. His urges had attempted to flare his rage back up inside of him, had shown him again the darkest parts of his past first-hand, had shown him eerie portends and strange scenery, all in the hopes of scaring him into submission, into not fighting back... But, if anything, Mallew had hope, now. He had quashed his urges, even if it had earned him great pain and suffering. He had pushed them back, even if he had barely emerged alive. He had told them no, and, regardless of his urges' inevitable return, today was a victory. He laid down upon his bed, skull resting down against his pillow heavily, the spirit knowing it would take some time for him to heal but, his urges quiet for now, he had no doubt that he could rest for a while, peacefully. He laid there, his cats quickly making their way into the room, hopping up onto the sheets, curling up against of him as he sat there, nuzzled and purred at and gently licked, Mallew giving into their concern and affection as they tended to him in their own little way, pressing up against his skull and skeletal body as if nothing had changed. He looked as close to that original spirit of Love and Vengeance he had been years ago as he had ever been, though he wasn't sure what that meant, just yet. 

He let out a deep, exhausted sigh, golden locket heart, cracked, aged, dented, and warped, just as he was, beating along, and, lying there, exhausted but free, and contrary to what his urges may want him to think, he came to a singular, all-consuming conclusion... He would be alright.

[kihyunniez]

WHEN GOT7 FIRST SEES YOU PT2

Jaebum:

“your chic expression, the way you talk is so sweet to me, your fashion style, everything is as hot as it would be in a dream.

 i think time has stopped, i think i’m trapped in a dream, i think i’m hooked on you, i’m trapped in my dream” (dreamin')

You had always wanted to do something unique, something that you’d never done before. You’d thought it would be a little stupid do try to dance considering the fact that you had never once attempted to dance seriously. Pushing that behind, you decided to do it anyway. You discovered a place where they were teaching dance classes and also allowed people to use their dance studios. You took it upon yourself to put on some dance appropriate clothes and head down to the studio. You were so glad you put on some comfortable shorts, a plain white t-shirt, a mouth mask, a hat, and some adidas because you can already tell that you’d be sweating by the routine that you were going to be learning. Your dance teacher was a short yet muscular man who went by the name Sam. “Hello everyone, my name is Sam and today I will be teaching you a routine to a song that is called  Never Be Like You” everyone nodded in response and the class started. After your dance class you were a mess, you barely knew what you were doing! “Gosh Y/N, you really need to step it up.” you mumbled to yourself. Disappointed by your performance, you decided to stay behind and practice your routine. You plugged your phone up to the speakers and played the song, immediately you started dancing to the song, completely oblivious to the fact that someone had opened the door and was watching you. He was tall-ish semi tanned boy with black-ish brown hair. Your song finished and quickly you went to your bag to go for your water and you heard someone clear their throat. Startled, you pulled your mask from your mouth and asked “Oh- is this your practice room?” “I didn’t mean to intrude...” you shyly trailed off. The male only chuckled slightly and said “I’m Jaebum, I don’t OWN this room, if you want to practice here, by all means, you can.” feeling better, you smiled and said “I’m Y/N. I might come here often since I want to get better at dancing.” you grabbed your phone and checked the time, it was about 6pm. Deciding it was late enough, you decided to get your things together while Jaebum curiously watched you pack up. “Sorry this is a little abrupt but, I gotta get going. See you soon?” Jaebum only smiled and waved as you started to make your way out the room. Jaebum was definitely going to be coming often just to see you, he was curious about you and wanted to know more about you. 

Jackson:

“then i’ll just steal her, she deserves to be loved from head to toe.

LOVELY you are loveless, what you’re giving her isn’t love, it’s bait.” (HEY)

You were at a club because your boyfriend had invited you to go with him to have a couple of innocent drinks and for some fun. You didn’t really think anything of it so of course you decided to go with him. You decided on putting on a baby pink bodycon dress and some nude heels. After getting to the club, you and your boyfriend picked somewhere to sit. It was a booth that slightly calmer than the overall atmosphere of the club. A boy was watching you two as you came in but you really didn’t pay much attention to it because after all, you had a boyfriend, or at least that’s what you thought. Your boyfriend made eye contact with a girl at the bar and just told you that he was going to be getting you two drinks. He got off and went to the bar and didn’t return. The boy who had been watching you before had noticed this and had walked over to you. “Sorry miss, but the boy you came here with is your boyfriend right?” startled by the voice, you let out a little yelp and turned to face the man who was talking to you. Not to mention, he was extremely handsome it almost felt like cheating. “Yes...” you trailed off, “he’s my boyfriend.” and with that, the man walked off leaving you baffled. The man who questioned you, walked off to find your missing boyfriend. Curious, you followed the man but you kept your distance to seem less suspicious. The man had sped up his pace and made his way up the stairs with you following immediately behind. He sharply turned the corner then he stopped, his feet shifted and you ran behind the corner but listening closely. You heard a door open and then you heard someone speak. “Man what the hell? Don’t you have a girlfriend? You left her downstairs by herself so you could cheat on her with someone like THAT? She deserves so much better than a piece of scum like you.” “You don’t know shit man, she’s worth nothing important.” You swear your heart felt like it was ripped from your chest as you recognized the voice of your now ex boyfriend. “Well if she’s worth nothing to you, I’ll make sure that she is cherished and worth something to someone else.” You turned the corner and saw your boyfriend with his arm wrapped around some girl and the boy you’d been following. At this point you became so pissed off and just started yelling. “I shouldn’t have ever wasted a moment with a piece of garbage like you. Don’t come to my house asking for forgiveness, if you want, you can pick up your shit in the form of ashes after i’m done burning it.” You watched as both of the boys jaws dropped at your sudden outburst. You grabbed the strangers arm and walked away. “Thanks for sticking up for me you really didn’t have to.” you spoke up nervously. He waved it off and offered to take you home. Once you arrived to your house, you thanked him again. “I’m Y/N thanks for today. I really appreciate it.” “Jackson.” he replied with a slight nod. You grabbed a random pen from your purse and wrote your number on his arm. You pecked his cheek and walked off into your house. He was going to keep his promise, he was going to make you worth a whole lot to him.

Jinyoung:

1, 2, strike, if i lose you then it’s game over i look for chances of a free spot an electrifying feeling has come,

it’s alright, i see your heart coming over to me oh yes, from now on, you’re my girl. you’re falling for me (home run)

You were at your friend Yeri’s house. She announced that she wanted to have a small get together with some of her close friends. You were one of them which meant that you had to meet some of her friends whom you’d never met, you’ve only heard of them. “Okay so how many people do you exactly plan on inviting to this little get together?” She walked over to you with a smirk. “Y/N please try not to get triggered..” she trailed off while making direct eye contact with you waiting for an answer and you only replied curtly by saying ‘not counting on it’ only to get an eye roll in response. “I’m inviting seven boys over. Hopefully you will get close to at least one boy if you know what I mean.” she said with a wink. Stunned you replied “First of all there’s going to be nine of us total, that’s not really small, and it seems that you’re just trying to set me up with some boy!” you exclaimed waving your hands in the air. She playfully nudged you and said “Y/N they’re harmless! you need to loosen up, I want them to become good friends with you!” “Right, okay. Just because you want me to befriend these boys doesn’t mean that it isn’t going to be weird at first!” you shouted while running to your room to make yourself look presentable for the guests. Deciding that you really weren’t in the mood for dressing up, you just put on a zip up crop hoodie and some leggings. You had literally just finished putting on your clothes but as soon as you opened your room door, Yeri screamed. “THEY’RE HERE Y/N!” you silently panicked. Yeri walked to open the door and you walked down the stairs slowly anticipating who would be coming through the front door. Your eyes widened as you saw the wide range of boys who had entered Yeri’s house. As you reached the bottom of the stairs one of the boys spoke after briefly greeting Yeri, “Aren’t you going to introduce us to this beautiful girl?” Yeri snapped her head around to look at you with a wide grin. “Boys, this is Y/N. Y/N this is Jaebum, Jackson, Yugyeom, Bambam, Mark, Youngjae, and Jinyoung.” You walked over to Yeri and waved slowly. Immediately you locked eyes with Jinyoung. Your heart practically jumped out your chest. “Let’s have fun today, Y/N.” Jinyoung said with a big smile, still looking at you. Yeri noticed the small action between you and Jinyoung and giggled to herself. Jinyoung knew from this point on, you and him were going to have a connection. 

Youngjae:

when other guys just look at you i get anxious and tell you that you are mine i want you and want you more (see the light)

You and Youngjae were going to go clubbing tonight with the rest of the boys. You were struggling to figure out what to put on and Youngjae wasn’t making it any better by rushing you. You decided on a mauve bodycon dress and nude heels to match. The dress was running a little on the shorter side but what could you do while you were being rushed? You took your hair down and styled it nicely. You popped some earrings in quick and applied lipgloss. “Y/N, COME ONN!” Youngjae whined while walking past your room.You huffed and grabbed your phone and clutch and made your way towards your door. Youngjae caught a glimpse of you as you made your way out of your room and towards him. Youngjae and the rest of the boys were waiting for you. As soon as you arrived, Bambam stood up on his feet and said “Alright lets go!!” The ride was outside and everyone walked out of the front door. As you made your way out the door Youngjae grabbed your hand lightly. You furrowed your brows and looked to see his expression which remained blank the entire car ride. Jaebum paid the driver and you all got out of the car and entered the club. Yugyeom tapped you lightly, “What’s wrong with Youngjae?” He said snickering lightly while pointing over to Youngjae who was sitting in a corner with that same expression. You weren’t going to let Youngjae ruin your fun. Of course you weren’t going to do anything to make him mad, you just wanted to enjoy your time. You walked towards the hot crowd of people and started to sway your hips to the music and as cliché as it sounded, a boy walked up to you. He was slightly scruffy and reeked of hard rock alcohol. “Hey baby. Maybe me and you can dance elsewhere?” He said, caressing your arm slowly. “No-” you started to say before Youngjae immediately was at your side prying the guys arm off. “She’s not interested. So leave her alone.” Youngjae growled. The guy scoffed and walked off. “I knew this would happen, you dressing this sexy gets the attention from other guys and I don’t like that. We’re going home NOW.” He said quickly. You’d never seen this side of Youngjae but you sure as hell did like it every once in awhile.

[xtruss]

Conservation

Microplastics Are Literally Raining on Our National Parks and Wilderness Areas

According to a new study, up to 300 million bottles’ worth of plastic particles per year landed on 11 remote protected areas in the West.

A new study finds that wind and rain deposit more than 1,000 metric tons of tiny plastic particles per year on 11 remote protected areas in the West, from the Grand Canyon to Idaho's Craters of the Moon.

— National Audubon Society | June 17, 2020 | By María Paula Rubiano, Editorial Intern, Audubon Magazine

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona. Photo: Michael Quinn/NPS

What Janice Brahney saw through her microscope shocked her. A biogeochemist at Utah State University, Brahney was trying to understand how dust, carried on the wind into wild areas of the Southwest, influenced the nutrient makeup of soil there. But when she looked at the magnified dust samples, she saw bright pink fragments of plastic. “It was kind of an accident,” she says. “I was like, ‘Oh my gosh.’ I was very surprised.”

The discovery may have been unexpected, but it became Brahney’s focus. For the next two years, she dedicated her efforts to understanding the scale at which microplastics are invading protected natural areas in the United States. Her findings were published last week, and they are striking.

Every year, wind and rain bring around 1,000 metric tons of plastic—the equivalent of 120 to 300 million plastic bottles—to the 11 western national parks and protected areas that Brahney studied, including Grand Canyon National Park in Arizona, Craters of the Moon National Monument and Preserve in Idaho, and the High Uintas Wilderness in Utah. Most of these microplastics were tiny fibers, typical of clothing with polyester or nylon, carpets, and outdoor gear. The remaining 30 percent were microbeads, the tiny spheres made of solid polyethylene frequently used in scrubs and other beauty products. They came in all the colors of the rainbow.

“We need to recognize that this is a pollution source that isn’t going away,” Brahney says. “It’s not just ‘out of sight, out of mind.’ It’s there, and it could be causing a lot of problems.” Since plastic degrades into ever-smaller pieces over hundreds of years, scientists have suggested that microplastics circulate not only through rivers and oceans, but also through the atmosphere, transported by wind, deposited to the ground, and then picked up again to land somewhere else. Brahney’s study is one of the first to measure the specific distances and quantities of the microplastics' movement through wind.​

In recent years, scientists have found microplastics throughout the natural environment, from Arctic ice to the ocean floor’s deepest crevices, floating in freshwater and mixed into the sand at coastal protected areas for migratory birds. In 2018, a global research partnership found microplastics in 88 percent of the 2,677 water samples they collected in every ocean and several watersheds. “We are living in the ‘plasticene,’” or era of plastic, says Abigail Barrows, the marine research scientist who led that study but wasn’t involved in Brahney’s research. “We are interacting with plastic more intimately than most people realize.”

The plastic falling with the rain was only a fraction of what arrived on the landscape.

For the new study, published in Science, Brahney partnered with the National Atmospheric Deposition Program, which uses weather stations to collect samples of dust carried by wind and rain into national parks and wilderness areas. Whenever she collected a sample—rainwater during a storm or dust carried by the wind—she ran a weather model that told her where those samples had been before reaching the protected areas. That’s how she confirmed that cities play a huge role in spreading microplastics through the rain. When storms had passed through cities on their paths to Brahney’s study areas, they deposited as much as 14 times more microplastics in the research stations than when they didn’t pass through urban areas.

But the plastic falling with the rain was only a fraction of what arrived on the landscape, Brahney says. Her results showed that wind brought into the parks 75 percent of the nearly 15,000 pieces of microplastics she analyzed. Most of these plastic fragments were also smaller, which might have allowed them to travel longer distances than the particles in the rain.

Plastics particles, microbeads, and fibers found in deposition samples from National Park and Wilderness areas of the western US. Photo: Janice Brahney

The new research helps scientists to better understand how far microplastics can travel, and how wind and rain deposits them in different areas, says Steve Allen, an environmental engineer at University of Strathclyde, in the U.K., who was not involved in Brahney’s study. “In terms of sampling and how much land it covers, this is really impressive,” he adds.

The effects of microplastics—especially the smaller ones—on wildlife are still widely unknown, says Allen. “The smaller particles not only leak their own chemicals when ingested by animals, but they can also carry all the chemicals that they absorbed during the journey,” he explains. “All of those chemicals leak into the body of whatever has eaten the plastic.”

While the negative impacts of microplastics on wildlife need more research, some studies suggest that microplastics might obstruct animals’ intestinal tracts and alter their bacteria. Last month, researchers found that White-throated Dippers in South Wales ate about 200 pieces of microplastics each day, presumably through the worms and insects in the birds’ diet. In a similar study, researchers found a mean of six pieces of microplastics, mostly rayon, in the intestines of nine species of raptors that arrived dead or couldn’t be saved at the Audubon Center for Birds of Prey in Florida. All 63 birds in the study had microplastics in their digestive systems.

Brahney says that the presence of plastics in high mountain areas may be especially dangerous. These ecosystems have simple food webs, with a small number of species tightly interconnected. If plastic consumption starts affecting one species, it could ripple through the whole system. That’s especially concerning because microplastics appeared in greater concentration at higher elevations in the study.

There’s even evidence that microplastics can fundamentally change the natural environment by altering the temperature, moisture, and nutrient composition of soil, which can affect the growth and distribution of plants and insects, and perhaps even reduce crop yields.

“Research like this should touch people in different ways,” says Barrows, the marine researcher. “There are more petrochemicals and plastics factories being built as we speak. We need to realize that we have to live without plastics to have a healthy environment.”