#she's like an angry mouse when she's mad at someone

[sleepylawr]

(Some of) My favorite Minthara's facial expressions

[luveline]

What about a lil fic of the first time bombshell reader gets mad at Spencer? Like it can be while they r dating or before and May be r is giving Spencer quiet treatment?

ty for requesting! ♡ fem, 1.3k

Spencer waits for Morgan to get up for a coffee before he gets up himself, tailing his teasing teammate to the microwave. He's hoping Morgan's in a sympathetic mood today, because Spencer is in dire need of some sympathy. 

"Loverboy," Morgan says, his voice steeped in suspicion. "Can I help you with something?"

"Do you know why Y/N's upset?" 

"You don't? You're the expert." 

Spencer rubs at his nose, the beginning of another migraine brewing between his eyes. The gesture draws a little more empathy than his misguided question. 

"You're gonna have to ask her yourself. I don't want her angry at me too, she's gonna fix my computer before Garcia finds out I fell for her phishing email test." 

"I've been asking her. It's making it worse. She won't answer my questions anymore. She just hums." 

"Silent treatment. Yikes." Morgan sips his tea through a grimace. "I mean, you must've done something bad. She's usually so–" 

"Lovely?" 

"–in love with you." Morgan laughs as he wanders off in the direction of the stairs up to Hotch's office. "Same thing."

Spencer decides to make a cup of bribery tea for you. He microwaves a mug of hot water and plunks a bag of your favourite blend in without ceremony, bobbing it up and down as he watches you from over his shoulder. You've moved desks upon request to sit with the rest of the team and opposite Spencer (against Hotch's self-proclaimed better judgement), your things set carefully in contrast to his books, a library's worth teeming on every spare inch. Some have even made their way onto your desk, pristinely stacked in wait of his perusal. It's one small gesture among the hundreds of kind things you do for him. 

"Here," he says, setting the mug down next to your mouse carefully. 

Your anger strikes him. Eyes frosted with an uneasiness he's not partial to, lips, so perfectly painted, screwed into a frown. It's not nice seeing someone he cares about upset with him, worse when he has no idea what it is he's done. 

"You're annoyed at me," he says. You wait for him to continue. "I don't know what I did." 

"That makes it worse." You frown at him. After a few seconds of this—your frowning, his looking sorry and confused— you sigh wretchedly (as in, he's never heard you sound that sad, ever, and he hates it). "Spencer, you stood me up." 

Everything in him goes cold. "No I didn't." 

Your sad frown melds again to anger. "Yes you did! I– I got my hair done at a salon, I bought a new dress, I bragged to all of my friends that my cute coworker was gonna be my date, and none of that mattered because you didn't text me back so I was worried sick all night that you were," —your voice drops to a private whisper— "in trouble somewhere, and then you come into work like nothing happened? Not even a hint of an apology? I thought you wanted to come."  

Your voice burns with embarrassment. Spencer can feel it in his throat, that plucky ache of someone letting you down. 

"That was last night?" he asks quietly. A friend asked you to their charity ball, not as ridiculously fancy as it sounds but an occasion of esteem and important to you nonetheless. "Y/N, I thought that was– I have it in my phone as next month. As November. I'm so sorry." 

"Why didn't you answer my texts?" 

He winces. "I had a migraine… Screens make it worse, and I haven't charged the battery yet because I was coming to work anyways I'm sorry, Y/N, really. I mixed it up. I should've asked you." 

You seem less disheartened at his admission. You cross your arms over your abdomen and lean back a touch in your chair, as if deciding whether he's being truthful. Spencer isn't in the habit of lying to you and anybody could tell you that, so after a few seconds you look away. "I asked you if you were excited yesterday morning. I told you my dress came."  

"I know." He can't believe he's gotten it wrong like this. Anyone can make a mistake, but he imagines you in your new dress with your hair done waiting for him in the cold weather that descended on Virginia last night and his guts twist into a knot. "I didn't piece it together. I didn't… I didn't…" 

Spencer can't remember the last time he let someone he loves down like this. His migraine spikes again like a needle in the eye, fiery agony that has him closing his eyes to cope. 

"Spencer," you say, softly admonishing. "Hey, it's okay." Your chair creaks.

"I'm so sorry," he says through his teeth. 

"I thought you were being a jerk, but I guess I should've known you wouldn't do something like that." You stand up and take his elbow into a very gentle hand. "I'm sorry for giving you the cold shoulder. It was childish. I was just hurt thinking you did it on purpose." 

"Sorry," he says again. "Migraine." 

Your hand rises to his cheek. "Yeah? Sit down, Spence. Take a breather." 

The doctors say that Spencer's migraines are psychosomatic. He doesn't get how something so odious can start from nothing. 

You seem twice as upset but in a different light, ushering him down into your chair. "Don't worry," you say softly, your hand falling into his hair, "I took a great picture. You can still see me in my nice dress." 

You're kidding but he's genuinely glad. Then the pain takes over and he can't see the other side of it for years. 

It only feels like years. 

When he can open his eyes, you've knelt by his chair. He hates to see you getting your pants dirty like that, hates worse that your eyebrows have pinched and the soft plane of your forehead has etched deep with concern. 

"You can still be mad at me," he says under his breath. 

"I'm a little upset," you confess, putting an uncharacteristically tentative hand on his knee. "It sucked, but not as much as this seems to suck for you." You're like an angel, all pretty and wide-eyed at his feet, your hand beginning a short path up his leg, a soft back and forth. "I'm sorry Spencer. I was punishing you for something that wasn't your fault." 

"You didn't know. How could you, I–" He winces as another wave of pain flares behind his eye, blurring your small smile. "I should've charged my phone." 

"Maybe. I can't imagine you had the capacity, Spence. Not if you're like this." 

"Don't just forgive me because I'm in pain." 

"I'm not, I'm forgiving you because even though it really hurt my feelings turning up alone, I'm not cruel enough to blame you now." You squeeze his knee. It's an instant balm, the chronic ache behind his eyes easing ever so slightly. Your forgiveness makes the rest bearable. "Can you forgive me for being so heartless?" you ask lightly. 

Your lips curve demurely around each word. Spencer scrambles to cover your hand with both of his, his neck craned forward. "Of course I forgive you." 

"Thank you." Spencer could collapse. "Drink some of this tea, okay? Maybe drinking something will help."  

Nothing ever helps, but he does it because it's your hands bringing the cup to his lips. 

"I know you looked beautiful," he says between sips. 

"I would've looked better on your arm. Too bad you're getting grievously attacked by your own brain. This is what happens when it gets too big, babe, it's trying to come out of your ears." He's a little sorry to have won you back this way, but mostly so, so relieved. "Anymore of this'll and you'll start messing up the months. Oh, wait!" You laugh as he laughs but soon scramble to apologise when the sound makes his head hurt. "Sorry, I'm sorry! Drink some more tea, sweetheart." 

[hey-i-am-trying]

It is really telling that whenever I saw people talking negatively about an egg it was always one of the fem eggs. Either Em or Sunny or Pomme or Lullah or sometimes Leo. They were always “too dramatic” “too sensitive” “too whiny” in comparison to their male siblings, as if that isn’t textbook misogyny. Anyway, Empanada was one of my favorite eggs and I think she had girl’s night parties with all of her moms and Sunny and any of her sisters that wanted to join.

I will not say that there was 'no' hate towards masc eggs. Richas would get random hates comments(some pretty racist one too, not gonna lie). When Bobby was alive he also receive some shit comments. Some people said on twitter that Dapper should have died after Purgatory to make Bad sad, they even wrote fanfics about Bolas killing Dapper(yeah,I saw that shit).

I think the problem is the frequence and consistency, the fems eggs were attacked for the most stupid fucking reason in a almost daily based. And is honestly a reflection on how this community treats the female streamers too, they are okay to be there if they are just going to do what the masc stremers or eggs want, they can sit pretty and not express strong emotions about any topic.

In the eyes of this mysoginistic community:

Fems are not allowed political opinions even if it is fictional politics (still mad about Baghera during the election arc, come fight me).

Fems are not allowed to be angry or upset, even of someone dies but they are especially not allowed to be upset if it is with a masc friend or family member.

But they are also not allowed not care, they can't be cold.

They also can't interfer in masc people's lore.

But also, if they don't interfer, they do not care for that character and they are a fake friend that actually never cared.

Fems are not allowed to have different opinion than their masc friends.

If they have a strong personality, they are whiny, bossy and too arrogant.

If they have a quiter personality, they are taking up space.

Fem streamers also have to deal with the most pathetic stuff, like complaints about Mouse's and Bagi's voices, because the entire existence of this women should cater to the audience

Also see what happend when you mix mysoginy with racism and xenophobia because oh my god if Teaduo didn't had to deal with this shit a lot.

Twitter just likes to erase that it was Tina that started the to flirt with Bagi, they like to say Bagi

(or when then they say that the Bagi's fans forced the ship to happen, which is hilarious when most of us either shipped her with Baghera or Niki in the beginning).

"oh, no, this latin women is too imposing and loud to her soft-spoken asian friend to do anything about the minecraft couple they both are rping in" Get a grip

The women and fem eggs of this island deserve all the girl night parties, they also all deserve a gun, they are also deserved much better, so much better.

[toournextadventure]

Alright alright I have a new ask for you!

How many Birdy Behaviours does bird!reader actually delight in?

There's so many cute and weird things that I could consider.

Cute things:

- Do their feathers puff up if they're angry or startled? If they're cold? If so, do they have little downy feathers that would be visible when they do? How soft and floofy would they look?

- Will their wings cover people they're in bed with? Like a little tent?

(I think it'd be adorable if everytime they wake up, their wings shake uncontrollably before folding back into themselves. Like how birds will do if they get snow or rain on their feathers. That instinctually, reader is protecting wednesday from the weather, even when in their dorm. Adorable)

- Do they molt? Groom themselves? When they shower, do the wings need extra care? Do they need help molting? Someone else to groom the hard-to-reach parts of their wings?

- Speaking of water, do the wings absorb water or deflect them like water fowl? Do they do a cute little shimmy when they're trying to get water off their wings?

Weird bird behaviours:

- Do they ever.. Go birdy? If they're very hungry and see a litte creacher, like a bug or mouse, would they crunch down? Eat raw meat? Are there certain things they need in their diet that normies don't?

- Okay, Google the sound that a peacock makes when it fans it's feathers. Can they.. can they make that sound? I'm terrified and intrigued.

- do they have feathers in other parts of their body? On their back between their wings, in their hair?

- Do they whistle at 5am?

- animals like crows will gift their human friends little trinkets, I know birb reader does this, but to what extent? Will they change what they gift people based on their excitement? Like If Enid loves little gems and Wednesday appreciates bones more? Will they steal things from one person and gift it to another?

STEALING LORE

-

Anyway not all of these are necessary to answer but idk theyve just been living in my head rent free so i had to get it all out.

Istg i should just make fanfics of your fanfics at this point

Oh no, you opened Pandora's Box, I AM answering all of these. And also, if you did, I would swear fealty to you 🧎

Cute things:

They absolutely do puff up, especially when angry, it's part of what makes her so frustrated. It's hard to look intimidating when you've got a bunch of fluff on your back. Wednesday always teases her for the fluffy downy feathers, which makes her even more mad, which makes Wednesday even more amused

YES they cover people they're cuddling with. Like, once she starts sleeping with Wednesday, they practically turn into fluffy blankets. And they shake during dreams, nightmares, and when waking up. Wednesday nearly threatens to cut them off once after the feathers tickled her nose and she couldn't stop sneezing for 15mins

They absolutely molt, it's awful. Usually Reader just complains the whole time until someone finally offers to help (it used to be Enid until she bugs Wednesday enough). She can get 95% of it on her own but every now and then there's a spot she just can't reach

They absorb water and it's hell. They feel soggy and heavy and take forever to dry, and Wednesday is lucky she's so cute because all that walking in the rain is absolutely miserable. The shimmy itself is not cute though, it's more like when a dog tries to shake water off. Erratic, violent, ceaseless shaking until it's dry and then she's stuck, once again, with fluffy, unruly feathers

Weird behaviours:

Yes, but more in terms of "oh shit are those seeds?? Is that fruit??? oh fuck yes" Like, she manages to control herself around meat, but she will chase and terrorise little creachers if they pass by her at the right time. More than once, Wednesday watched her grab a rabbit, fly with it, and let it plummet back to the ground. Or she just flatout curb stomp a snake if she feels threatened. Reader is an absolute menace to the local ecosystem

Thankfully no peacock feather sounds, the most anyone can hear is just a gentle ruffle and maybe a little hum in th eprocess

No other feathers, but that doesn't stop the chaos because she drops those feathers everywhere

She will basically whistle/call out at the most random hours of the day, much like a rooster. Though not quite as loud, it's almost like she can't help it. In the middle of class? A small whistle. Half-asleep? Another one. In the middle of a test? It's a good thing the school is full of Outcasts because what do you know, Reader is whistling

Damn right, she 100% caters her trinket gifts. She starts off with just whatever she can find, but she narrows it down until she knows The Gift. Enid usually gets anything shiny, whether it's a gem or earring or anything else. Wednesday gets rocks and pieces of bones. More than once theyve gotten something that Reader stole literally from the other side of the room, so it's not even really a gift, but it's the thought that counts (Reader also tries to woo Wednesday with rock piles, much like a penguin)

EXTRA BEHAVIOURS 👀

She picks at her feathers when she's extremely stressed or overwhelmed. It's a small part of why she keeps them in the harness when she's anxious, it keeps her from the bad habit

She BITES FINGERS. More than once Enid has pointed at her and she just... chomped and it's not even a hard bite but it leaves everyone like "what the genuine fuck???"

An absolute weirdo with the weather. It snows? She plays in it like it's the best thing ever, much like crows. It's sunny? Catch this bitch outside with wings outstretched fully catchin those rays

Always 100% down to fight her own reflection. She's got a human brain, she knows it's her own reflection, but that small birdy part still sees the reflection and is like "gasp, an enemy, square up." It's the sole reason there's no mirrors in Reader's room. Probably the only time Wednesday actually, audibly laughed was when Reader unexpectedly passed a mirror and instantly started a fight. Thankfully it wasn't an expensive one

[hoffmanstits-enjoyer]

I know I must be the last motherfucker on EARTH to watch Grimm, but be patient with me 'cause i'm doing it now.

Something I can't understand though is the youtube comments on scenes about Sean & Juliette's compulsion, because those people talk about her as if she was willfully and purposefully cheating on Nick when as far as i'm concerned:

• Juliette had NO memories of any of their relationship and although she was as gentle as possible with Nick, understanding and even feeling guilty though she had no fault, she had no obligation to BE with Nick— truth be told, they were anything but together in that specific moment in their lives.

• She was under a COMPULSION; her feelings for Sean were born out of a supernatural connection she didn't understand and quite frankly, neither did Sean.

Now, I can see why people would be mad at Sean because Adalind's revenge against Nick had everything to do with Sean's manipulation of her own infatuation and loyalty to him: if Sean hadn't asked her to seduce Hank and bring him the key, Nick wouldn't have made her taste his blood— if she encountered the Grimm in any other way, he would've dealt with her either by locking her up or killing her in self defense, although I would argue Adalind was incredibly stupid in letting Nick trick her when she knows her own weakness unlike most wesen he fights against AND that her actions are her own, you can't blame someone else for what she does or doesn't do(and it was merciful of Nick to even let her live as a human, might I remind you she pretty much raped Hank and then dangled his life in front of Nick).

Funny thing though is that Nick himself feels betrayed and ready to goddamn murder Sean and amidst all of that he suddenly forgets that between him and Juliette? He's the asshole.

Allow me:

• He's been lying to her about where he is, who he is, how he met Monroe, and all the little details about him being a Grimm and the Wesen, which is the most understandable of his bad decisions because she's a kehrseite, we saw how she reacted at first to Nick's meltdown(and he very much was NOT stable when he broke it to her which didn't help at all).

• Selfishly, he decided that putting her in danger that she wouldn't even be aware of was worth it to keep her even after being proven that no, he cannot protect her from everything(AKA, Plumed Serpent, Game Ogre & Woman In Black); are we all aware of how insane that is? Juliette has no idea that she has a target painted on her back that doesn't even compare to the one a detective's lover has to handle, Nick stayed deluding himself into thinking things were fixable and fine(AKA, The Thing With Feathers) knowing damn well that his Aunt had been right about breaking up to protect her. God, I bet that Juliette would immediately connect dots and think Nick just couldn't keep their relationship afloat while grieving and drowning in work and forgive him for being so closed off, she would've stayed his friend regardless because she's just awesome like that.

I love Nick, I want nothing less but for him to be supported and loved, he and Juliette are such compassionate people that were genuinely happy together before his heritage came knocking on his door but he made one bad decision after another and his cowardice/selfishness almost cost Juliette's life multiple times— the big deal with Monroe's acceptance at the final scene in Of Mouse And Men is exactly that he's painfully aware of the dangers he's facing by being a Blutbad that's helping a Grimm, his informed decision to stick by Nick seems to overwhelm the Grimm because someone is doing that for him when he can't have it anywhere else. Nobody but Monroe can know.

(And not to be quickly bonkers about NickRoe but the fact that his reaction to Monroe's telling that Nick was the reason he got attacked was cutting ties? That bitter, angry smirk when he says he won't ask anything anymore? He's willing to let Monroe go — his main support as a Grimm, his translator, his personal Grimm-o-pedia and sniffer, a powerful ally in the Wesen World, a friend that fed him and protected him — at what he thinks is Monroe's breaking point but insists on Juliette even after he thought she reached her breaking point, it speaks of a balance between Monroe & Nick that Juliette & Nick no longer have and that he wants the Blutbad safe more than he's willing to fight his decision and keep him although he clearly hates to part with him like that.)

So, I really think that in this entire situation Juliette's entitled to all of her anger, and that she has nothing to feel guilty about wanting to fuck Sean Renard seven different ways into Sunday — I mean, she's such relatable queen for that — and that Nick, while valid in his feelings of desperation and fury, should've known goddamn better. I won't tolerate Juliette slander about it; i'm vaguely aware shit hits the fan in later seasons but that's not relevant here.

[mochibuni]

Watching the Cosmos films, my thoughts under the cut.

It's a lot of all caps. And lack of grammar because I gave up at some point.

some important things: wedding scene is after the end credits, so don't miss it!

also, THE CATS LIVE! I REPEAT, THE CATS LIVE!!!!!!

LOL WAS GALAXIA JUST SITTING THERE WATCHING THEM KISS. IS THIS HER WATCHING 90 DAY FIANCE.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HOTARU CAME TO PICK UP CHIBS I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT THIS

YOU GET THAT NORMAL SCHOOL GIRL LIFE MICHIRU

the cgi is a little egregious in a distracting way

i'm only seven minutes in and i can't handle how cute their every day lives are someone help me

i like the little pink gradient they added to usagi's eyes

I prefer Usagi's original engagement ring. These new sailor crystals look great though.

ARE THE STARLIGHTS NINJA RUNNING THROUGH THE AIRPORT????????

and chibs is just gone bye

OMG LITTLE MOUSE BOTS

OMG MOUSE UHM that was fast. poor girl i wanted to see her do a little bit more, she really is just the cutest

"why haven't you sent me any letters? i'm going to be angry!" YEAH MAMORU, WHY HAVE YOU LET DEATH STOP YOU.

interesting that they used "sailor soldiers" instead of "sailor guardians."

...mina is so great with children looooooooooooooooooool

I FORGOT HOW MANY ZIPPERS THE THREE LIGHTS HAVE

WHO LAYS ON THE GROUND ON TOP OF THE BUILDING LIKE THAT TO WRITE A LETTER. THE GROUND IS DIRTY, USAGI.

"it's my business or not if i have ugly handwriting"

michiru is truly a blessing in this high school setting

MINA-P

TAIKI'S TRANSFORMATION STILL ABSOLUTELY CRACKS ME UP JUST PLANKING IN THE AIR

i really love everything about this galaxia, her voice is really great. also i just love the aesthetic naoko gave her, in general i love the aesthetic in the manga but oh my god is it so hard to draw.

PUBLIC SCHOOL GIRL REI HIJINKS

bahahah rei mad about mina talking about getting a boyfriend JUST DATE ALREADY

oh my god that mid scream cut off of mina and rei was so good and awful

DIANA IN HER BASKET

JUST LEAVING HOTARU BEHIND WITH THE CATS. IS SHE YOUR CONTIGENCY PLAN TO DESTORY THE UNIVERSE

"i only trust girls" yup

seeing hotaru get into her little bubble to go to her moms and i know she isn't going to make it choked me up a bit

HOW DARE YOU HURT DIANA

so far the stars arc works pretty well for a film, not at the half point yet though

KAKYUU IS SHORTER THAN USAGI JUST HOW SMALL IS THIS WOMAN

"trash can't become a star" I LOVE HER

MOVIE 2

IKUKO MY HEART

outer castle bus tour

HOTARU MY DARLING I'M PRETTY SURE YOU COULD HAVE DONE IT IF YOU HAD FIVE MORE SECONDS. I DREW AN ENTIRE COMIC ABOUT IT.

HAHAHA WE BROKE MORE OF MICHIRU MAMA'S PLATES

chibs has a really cute new transformation I'M NOT BITTER HOTARU'S STILL SUCKS

i really felt a big pang when the starlights died, i'm not sure if that's nostalgia talking or not

it was so nice seeing chibs and the quartet in action

FUCKING PUT THE CATS BACK i swear to god if they stay dead in crystal

HAHAHA MUST BE CHIBS DAUGHTER

"i can tell she's not my daughter, she has too much bullshit power like my mom"

oh they were cowards about kakyuu's death GIVE US THE ACTUAL STAB THROUGH THE BACK

getting to the evil sailors part and i think this really solidifies how much this art style doesn't suit the aesthetic of this arc at all. it was pretty apparent with a lot of the shadow galactica villains, but zero sagitarius is such an elegant and foreboding place and this anime shoujo style doesn't translate it well at all. i know i've complained about the art change in crystal a lot, and i do think the movies are miles above the 3rd season and sometimes cosmos looks really fantastic, but yeah i'll stop here before i get way too negative

MAMORU JUST CAPE FLIPS AND RUNS AWAY THE MOST TUXEDO MASK THING EVER

HE DOES IT TWICE ALSDJALS;KDSADA

part of galaxia's backstory here reminds me of the rose bride witch, at least visually with the sword piercings.

LOLOL NOW GALAXIA JUST TURNS AND RUNS I CAN'T

YES THE STAFF BEATING

"neither of us can keep fighting, all the sailor guardians have disappeared" GEE I WONDER WHY THEY DID, GALAXIA.

LOOK AT HOTARU GETTING THAT PRETTY LITTLE SOLO PANEL

just knowing it's keiko's voice teared me up a little

DO YOOU BEEELIIEEEEVEEE IN THE POWER OF LOOOOVE

usagi flying with all the sailor crystals begging for help really spoke to me, it's really so perfect

CHAOS' HAIR IS A BIG NEST OF SNAKES WITH PEARLS AND I'M HERE FOR IT

OH THANK THE FUCKING LORD THAT CATS ARE REBORN I WAS GOING TO BE SO PISSED IF CRYSTAL DIDN'T FIX THIS DOAISDJASP;JDKASOPKDAS 'DKASD

SERIOUSLY THE CATS LIVE AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

FINALLY SHE GETS TO MARRY EVERYONE THE END

[haystarlight]

Luz Noceda-Blight "Mamá" (She/they, 45)

I let her keep the fang from the Titan Luz transformation. They also now have different color eyes.

Snake tattoo in honor of Manny. Like from the storyboards.

Still wears Amity's moon 🌒 necklace (also they switched earrings)

I gave her glasses and more belly, like Camila.

Owns a bookstore that sells human and witch books in Bonesborough.

Has already written at least one YA fantasy novel, published under an alias in the human world.

Still writes fanfiction but she only has WiFi to publish a new chapter when the portal to Earth is open.

People stop them for autographs on the street still.

Has learned to master King's glyph language and can now do magic again even without Stringbean.

King can turn her into her Titan form but only for very limited time and they're both weakened for a few minutes after. (Amity likes the Titan form tho 😳)

Their nieces and nephews call them "tía" or "tíe".

Taught both her kids Spanish.

Volunteers at the Bonesborough Orphanage, which is where they got Camilo from.

Sings her kids lullabies, both in English and in Spanish.

Is a consultant for the students learning about the human world at the University of Wild Magic.

Screams at her kids in Spanish when she's mad.

Both moms cook but Luz is the main cook of the household.

Can still lift Amity with their strong nerd arms (Amity swoons).

Amity Noceda-Blight "Mom" (She/her, 45)

Alador's hook nose.

Abomination hair like Darius.

A bit taller than Luz (by a few centimeters).

Thicc thighs save lives (broke Luz's neck by sitting on her face at least once).

Helps Hooty take care of the museum now that Lilith retired.

Still goes to read to kids at the library. (Sometimes Luz comes with her!)

Working full time as an abomination inventor/mechanic/engineer. Alador is also retired.

Has tried dyeing her hair lots of different colors before settling on this look.

Can turn into an abomination like Darius when she's angry.

Luz and Camila taught her some human food recipes, she finally understands that humans can't eat fairy pie.

Her nieces and nephews call her "Aunt Mittens".

Has to remind Luz to take their meds every morning.

Don't talk to her unless she's had her coffee.

She's the one that helps the kids do their hair.

Azúl Noceda-Blight (He/they, 8)

I wanted his name to be something more original. Too many people name their Lumity kids Azura. I went with Azúl because it's similar to Azura but not exactly the same, it's a Spanish name and it goes well with the character design.

Artificial pregnancy (Luz was the pregnant one).

The blue eyes are from Odalia, who's not in their life at all.

Mom and grandpa's nose.

Half-witch half-human actually results in very powerful offspring. As evidenced by the Clawthorne family. Azúl is stronger than you think.

Spends a lot of time with Uncle Gus, Aunt Em and Uncle Ed practicing his illusions. They're bad influences on him.

Is a very creative child and loves to draw, like their mamá.

Likes going to see Abu Camila on the human realm and help her at the vet clinic.

Healing magic and Illusion magic together make for a good anesthesiologist.

Mamá takes them to the human world to go trick or treating on Halloween.

Likes to play videogames with Uncles Gus and Hunter.

Wears a hat to hide their ears in the human world.

Doesn't really have any interest on the Azura books but likes it when mom reads Otabin to him.

Camilo Noceda-Blight "Milo" (He/him, 6)

Bipedal rat demon. Has a vial sac to do magic with.

They got him from the Bonesborough Orphanage when he was a baby rat. His biological parents are unknown.

Named after Abuela.

Azúl was a toddler when they got him but he was still very excited to have someone else to play with.

Milo's a very shy little guy and gets scared easily. Doesn't like initiating conversations unless he's comfortable. Azúl does a lot of the talking for him.

Does mouse noises a lot of the time. 🐭🐁🐀

Weirdly gets along well with Ghost.

Wanted to take Beast Keeping to understand creatures of the Boiling Isles a little better. Wanted to take Potions because he likes cooking.

Gets along really well with Eberwolf.

When visiting the human world, he wears a Concealer Stone that makes him look human with an illusion.

Tía Vee helps him whenever he has issues with his disguise.

Loves his adopted family a lot but is curious about his bio relatives sometimes.

[orchidbreezefc]

I am asking you about Marco and Tobias in book 3 👀

IM SO MAD I WROTE UP A WHOLE ESSAY AND EVERNOTE JUST YEETED IT SO I HAD TO REWRITE IT AAAAA

cw for attempted suicide, animal death, and ego death. regular animorphs things

things start in book 2, where marco tells tobias (for those uninitiated, a boy in the body of a hawk) not to hunt prey because he couldn't be friends with someone who ate rats. this is Not Cool, and everyone treats it as such; tobias stonily ignores it, and it reads to me like marco realizes he fucked up.

book 3 is the first from tobias's pov, and centers around his conflict re: hawkness vs humanity. he's been sleeping in a drawer in jake's attic, eating cold hamburger and being generally miserable. halfway through the book he lets his guard down and follows the hawk instincts to catch and kill a mouse.

tobias immediately has a breakdown and attempts suicide. rachel gets him to stop at the last minute and marco breaks a skylight so tobias can fly outside (note marco risking his neck to help tobias out), whereupon he goes to the forest and surrenders his selfhood, giving in completely to the hawk's instincts. he gets better, but from that point on he hunts prey and sleeps in a tree.

the only person tobias talks to about his inner struggle this whole time is rachel. several times he comes to her and she tells him he's human through and through and his body doesn't matter, but tobias can tell she doesn't fully believe that.

reading tobias's pov, it took me a minute to recognize rachel's thought process: she says it because she thinks it's what he wants to hear. i doubt tobias knew what he needed to hear, but it was this: you aren't just human anymore, and that's okay. things are different now, but we're here to help you figure it out.

enter marco, surprisingly. tobias says at the start of the book that he and marco are very different people and he doesnt think they will ever be close because marco doesn't take anything seriously--which isn't accurate, but that's a different rant.

marco makes jokes about tobias being a hawk, and at this point, that makes him the only one who acknowledges tobias's new reality in any capacity. imagine how isolating that is. everything about your life, your reality, and your own body changes completely, and by every indication only 4 people will ever know that or interact with you ever again--and they mostly just pretend it isn't happening.

their reluctance to touch the topic is for two reasons. the first one is that they don't want to aggravate a sore spot by saying something insenitive. the second one is very clear as you read: these kids are 13, and they are AWKWARD.

they're at an age where unspoken social etiquette matters more than ever before and they are scrambling to find the boundaries where things become 'too weird'. this is a huge and recurring factor in their behavior! there is no etiquette for your friend being a hawk or turning into a bug, but they are so hyperaware of potential boundaries and not knowing where the line is that they err on the side of caution and just Don't.

everyone except marco.

this is for two reasons: one, as i touched on in [link: my last post], marco is extremely practical, and (correctly) believes he can't afford to ignore hard truths. the other is that i think he's so used to people being angry with him for running his mouth that he figures he may as well be the one to risk saying the wrong thing.

marco will throw himself on the conversational grenade. he's willing to (appropriately enough) be gored by the elephant in the room if that means it gets dealt with. he doesn't know how to talk about this any more than anyone else, including tobias, but he's going to find out where the mines are for all of them, even if that means stepping on one.

violent metaphors aside, marco DID fuck it up in book 2. yet in book 3, when he makes a hawk joke again, tobias says it makes him feel better, even as it earns dirty looks from the others, because marco jokes about everything. the jokes make it feel more normal, more approachable.

once tobias embraces the lifestyle, he tests the waters by making a joke of his own about hunting a snack. marco is the only one who laughs; he and tobias connect where tobias doesn't with anyone else. marco uses humor to cope, because joking about the difficult thing makes it less scary, and it helps tobias cope too. after this book tobias starts making a lot more jokes, and god, that bitch is funny.

where rachel's platitudes and jake and cassie's polite, awkward silence leave tobias feeling more alone, it's marco cracking dumb, sort of insensitive jokes that bridges the gap. it's an unconventional way to reach out, and not what you would call kindness, but conventionally reaching out didn't work, because tobias's problem isn't conventional.

there's a real push-and-pull between tobias and marco, and they are very different people. i don't think tobias would especially want to be emotionally vulnerable with marco at this point (and marco definitely wouldn't want him to), but in the end, marco is the one who implicitly tells tobias what he needed to hear: you aren't fully human anymore, and that's okay. we're here to help you figure it out.

[heylittleriotact]

Someone else beat me to Senna so I'm gonna ask about Bartenderess

(Thank you for playing btw!)

Bartenderess was inspired by a time about ten years ago when I was employed as (surprisingly) a bartender. I met people that seemed fictional during that time, so I decided to make up some more.

It’s a short story about a fateful night where the wrong people end up under the same roof at the same time. This is a snippet from partway through.

Thanks for tagging me, friend. This was fun!

The bartenderess smiled and turned away: Her line of work certainly offered interesting insight into the variant reality of human relationships.

She shelved the whiskey and whipped around when she felt a coaster bounce off her back.

Parking lot guy sat at the bar, staring at her in his judging, dope-eyed way - in this light she could make out dark veins and angry looking tracks on his inner arms.

“Did you throw that at me?” She asked.

“Better than a beer bottle.” He shrugged.

“Can’t argue with that. You’re out of beer I’m guessing.”

“Might be.” He snarked.

“Well do you want one?”

“Yes.”

“Care to give me a bit more to go off of? We have a variety of options.”

“I dunno. You got what I was drinking in the lot?”

The bartenderess sighed and pulled a beer of the same name out of the fridge, twisted off the top and set it in front of the Junkie. “Did you pay cover?”

“Went in the back door.”

“In all fairness I can’t even be mad. We don’t even have anyone watching that.” She looked at the ten he held out to her. “Oh, you can start a tab if you want.”

He looked at her like she was an idiot, “You think I’ll pay?”

She started pouring a beer for someone else on the bar. “I won’t lie to you and say it wouldn’t ruin my night if you didn’t.”

Hulking Irish Man #1 - who the Junkie had (foolishly) chosen to sit next to - chimed in on the conversation with an elbow to the wiry fellow’s ribcage.

“You walk out on your tab and I’ll break your back, you dirty thing.”

The Junkie opened his mouth to respond, but the bartenderess cut him off.

“Just ah… just leave it, okay?” She poured Hulking Irish Man #1 another beer, hoping it would distract him. Or something.

“You couldn’t break your way out of a wet paper bag, you Irish fuck.”

She covered her face with the palm of her hand at the sound of the whiny, nasally voice that came from somewhere behind the mountainous form of Hulking Irish Man #2.

Hulking Irish Man Number The First swiveled in his bar stool and looked at the speaker; a bearded man, on the short and slight side, wearing a Detroit Red Wings baseball cap and a hoodie.

“Don’t even start with me right now, Pinky. My friend over there is itchin’ for a fight and he won’t listen to your shit for ten minutes tonight before he decides to break your fucking face in.”

“You’re pissed, hey?” The snide little bastard grinned, squeezing in between Hulking Irish Man #1 and Minnie Mouse. “Hey, can I get a goddamn beer over here or what?”

“Dunno Pinky. You got the money for that right now? I hear you owe these gentlemen here a good deal of money.”

The strung out Aussie looked up, seemingly only just now realizing there was a conversation going on around him. “For what?”

The bartenderess jerked a thumb at Pinky, “Got more balls than brains, this one.”

“It’s your damn fault.” Pinky snapped at her. “You could have just gone along with it and then we’d both be a few gees richer.”

The bartenderess crossed her arms and shot Pinky an unimpressed smirk that she hoped would convey exactly how little she regretted her decision. “Yes, go along with it and pretend that I slept with you? I don’t fucking think so. I possess the integrity to choose my bedmates wisely; even pretending to be yours would be a vast infringement on said scruples.”

“Not even for half of fifteen grand?” He sneered derisively.

“The fact that you’re fifteen grand poorer should serve to show you exactly where I stand on the issue.” She took a moment to repeat the ever-familiar motion; turn, open fridge door - grab a beer from the bottom row - turn back, twist - serve. “You know the economy isn’t doing so well, right? What happens when you get laid off and all of your savings are gone?”

Pinky frowned and shook his head, “Nah. I’ll be fine.”

“If that’s your bet, I’m staying on the other side of it based on your previous luck.” She raised an eyebrow, “Why are you here anyway? You hate live music nights.”

Pinky shrugged. “Found out today the girl I was seeing for the past three weeks has a boyfriend. She’s all confused and wants to talk about her feelings.” Pinky pulled a face and took a drink. “Don’t think I’ll give her the time of day.”

“You say that.”

“I fucking mean it.”

“Well maybe you should stop fucking girls who have boyfriends then. You can’t tell me that you ploughed her for three weeks and had no idea she was attached.” The bartenderess pointed out fairly. “You may be stupid enough to lose fifteen grand, but you’re not that fucking stupid.”

“Why are you so nice to him? He’s scum!” Hulking Irish Man #1 scoffed, glaring down his nose at Pinky.

“I’m nice to you.” The bartenderess stated flatly, shrugging. “Pay your tab, tip me well, and refrain from pissing me off and I’ll be your best friend - shockingly, Pinky meets all of these criteria… more often than not.” She leveled a withering glare at the Red Wings fan and he looked away, abashed.

Roughly a month or so earlier, during one of many mornings when he came in already drunk, the bartenderess had done a quality check on Pinky’s beer, to which he made the mistake of responding, “It would be a lot better if you were on your knees blowing me while I was drinking it.”

“Pay your tab and get the fuck out: Don’t come back till you get a fucking grip - you actually think you can get away with talking to me like that?” The bartenderess had responded, printing his tab and slapping it on the wood between them.

He did as she said - it was the glare.

He tried coming back once prior to apologizing - it didn’t last long; he sat at the bar and went mostly ignored by the sole bartenderess as she carried on with her Sunday afternoon shift.

“Oh you’re here?” She finally said, feigning surprise as she withdrew a batch of clean glasses from the washer and set them out to dry. “I wonder what would bring someone like you to a place like this - get the fuck out.”

And that was that: A trite apology arrived the next day via text message, and all was well in the universe again.

Don’t antagonize your bartender - especially if she’s nothing short of a charm and is capable of pouring a pint without more than half an inch of head.

“I fucking love you!”

Oh God.

‘Cuddles’ she called him privately. He was a regular fixture at the pub, showing up at least four nights a week and staying till either the bar closed, or he was cut off and told to leave. See, he had this nasty habit of having a few too many and becoming belligerent and abusive to any and all within his reach; including the staff. He also conveniently forgot to pay his considerable tab a number of times, leaving it to fall on the other staff to pay. He had never pulled this particular stunt with the bartenderess, but she had become the person to follow up on the lost tabs and ensure an apology was given to the victimized staff.

Cuddles was a nice enough guy; fell on hard times in his life. Both he and his brother Scott (short for Scotsman) suffered from some mental health issues that the bartenderess didn’t know the specific nitty gritty of, but what she assumed from Cuddles’ part to consist of severe depression, anxiety, and alcoholism. Scott was the same, though his institutionalization for attempted suicide and his own admittance to borderline personality disorder and sexual assault at the hands of his very attractive female psychiatrist left him a good deal more fucked up than his brother.

They wore on her, truth be told. But at the same time she was deeply fond of these brothers for all of their struggles: Just as she was somehow fond of a pair of Irish extremists, and a hipster who didn’t know where his dick ended and the world began.

People grow on you like that when you work at a bar: People who exist and function in society, but are somehow fucked up, and to a point - pitiable. They’re here for a reason, the outcasts and undesirables. They’re the ones who come once, and then come back the next day, and the day after that, and pretty soon, you know more about them - good and bad - than you know about your own family.

Because when you’re a bartender, you are neutral.

You are judge, jury and executioner for no one.

You exist to serve drinks and food and conversation and release.

People will tell you things that they tell no one else because you exist only in one place forever: In a building at an address, in a city in a town, shielded by a panel of wood and a row of taps.

You are static and surreal: A fixed dream-state in an imagined world where these souls pass out of the doors and you cease to exist at all until they return the next day.

A bartender has permission to care; the woman who catches the bus home in a skirt at the end of her shift, does not.

“I love you too,” The bartenderess smiles, and though her tone is accommodating, it is also businesslike. She places Cuddles’ drink of choice before him; a Paralyzer; made right - not with any of that pre-mix bullshit. “Where’s your brother?”

“Hospital again,” Cuddles mutters, tucking into his Paralyzer.

“Ah shit, I’m sorry.” The bartenderess says earnestly; she always liked Scott, and she didn’t like to entertain the notion of him never coming back through those doors.

“Fuck it,” Cuddles declares, waving a hand through the air. “Not even surprised. Shit’s always weird.’

“You can say that again,” says the bartenderess, taking advantage of the brief lull at the bar to slow down a bit and pour herself a coffee.

“Seen any other familiar faces here tonight?” Cuddles asks. “Glenn or Meredith and Kiwi?” He looks around the packed bar, seeking out the familiar faces mentioned.

“Meredith was in earlier to play the machines a bit, but she left around seven. Haven’t seen Glenn or Kiwi today, just these ones.” She jerks her thumb at the Hulking Irish Duo and Cuddles waves at them uneasily before turning back to the bartenderess: He and the Irish guys don’t get along well, but Cuddles is smart enough to avoid picking a fight with them - he knows well enough he’d lose.

“Hey man,” Cuddles instead says to Pinky, meeting his beer with the lip of his glass. “Back for more abuse from this one?” He nods to the bartenderess.

“Nowhere else around here to get a decent beer,” Pinky shrugs. “Speaking of which; who do I have to blow around here to get another one?” He lifts the bottle in his hands and swirls the small amount of liquid left in the bottom.

“Your wish is my command, dickhead,” the bartendress purrs, replenishing her patron’s libation before turning her attention back to Cuddles. “Well I really hope your brother is okay. I’m sorry to hear he’s unwell again. He knows how loved he is, right and - oh fuck.”

Her attention is commandeered rapidly by the opening of the back door and the entrance of three very familiar figures making their way through the crowd towards the bar; specifically a woman who had been sitting quietly at the far end of it for most of the night, nursing a pint of Stella.

The bartenderess hadn’t thought much of it; she’d never seen the girl before, but assumed she was just another traveller passing through, or friends with one of the bands who agreed to come to the show out of loyalty rather than interest. Slightly older than herself, this woman nearly blended into the crowd with her diminutive figure, but as the bartendress watched the three men take up wood around her, her pale skin and dark hair that framed bright green eyes made her wonder how she had been so easily overlooked in the first place. She’d served her without a second thought and hadn’t remembered to check on her since. Not like it mattered… the girl still had half her pint in front of her.

How she knew these three was the real mystery. And the problem.

The bartenderess had no idea they were back in town; it’d been almost two years since their first visit, and frankly she thought she’d never see them again. Why did they have to pick tonight of all nights to wander into this powder-keg?

[ask-agent-rapzutin-vodello]

So, question what psychic techniques are banned from Psychonaut training? Because I could see psychically blocking pain as one since, well, everyone would have a heart attacks if someone came in with a broken arm and not feeling any pain from it.

[Norma] 'Blocking pain' is not really something we can do.

[Gisu] Unless you implant the hypnotic suggestion beforehand. Make them believe they can't feel pain.

[Raz] And what afterwards? The suggestion wears out, and you get hit by all the pain all at once.

[Sam] Sounds ...painful.

[Adam] That's an understatement.

[Lizzie] (Chuckles) I just imagine someone being all fine one second, and the next he just belts out an iconic Tom scream.

[Raz] Who's Tom?

[Morris] Tom and Jerry? The cat and mouse?

[Raz] Oh, now I remember!

[Sam] You sound surprised? Your mom doesn't let you watch or something?

[Raz] Sasha, actually. He - and I quote - 'Abhors the cartoonish trivialization of violence those two animated mammals glorify'.

[Gisu] (Giggles) It's amazing how much you can make yourself sound like Sasha, Poots.

[Raz] Mom's fine with me watching, though. She finds it funny.

[Morris] (Pause) Is it weird I'm surprised Milla likes that sort of humor?

[Adam] You're not the only one, mate.

[Norma] Back to the question at hand, guys?

[Raz] I think 'excessive damage' is banned.

[Morris] That's not a 'Psychic Technique', Hermanito.

[Raz] It is when Norma gets angry.

[Lizzie] (Cackles)

[Norma] Very funny, Razputin.

[Gisu] Ooooh, she used your full name, Raz. She's mad.

[Norma] I'm not.

[Sam] Yes, you are.

[Norma] I'M N- keep up the joke, and I'll show you 'angry' and 'excessive damage'.

[Raz] (Chuckles) See?

[Adam] Anyone else got some 'forbidden techniques' in mind?

[Lizzie] We can't use precognition before tests, for one.

[Norma] None of us are proficient in that particular power, sis.

[Morris] Still doesn't stop Hollis from powering up the 'Psychic Dampeners' when we're having a written test, though...

[Norma] And who's fault it that?

[Sam] Hey, I only tried it once.

[madmousescientist]

(So i forgot what we had wrote in chat but i think i remember some of it-)

Carrie was tired. Too tired to care about finding food to eat. Right now she wanted to snooze. However finding a safe place to sleep wasnt easy. Not when there was the danger of another angry mob looking for her.

So what if she. Stole fish? It wasn't like she took all of them! Just one small flounder!

In her defense, she was hungry. So she did the most logical thing a cat would do. Hunt...well look for food. Carrie did tried to hunt something. Birds to be exact. To her annoyance they all flew away before she could catch even one.

It didnt help that she no longer had the money that she found. or did someone give it to her? The more she thought about it the more muddled up the memory became. In the end she decided to give up thinking about it.

What mattered was getting some place safe.

With a sigh she continued her journey. Not feeling content sleeping under junk and ruble again. She wanted something to keep the rain off her head. Being splashed with water was unpleasant. She wasnt trying to be picky rather, just some place slightly more comfortable than a dark alley way.

Running along slide what looked like an abandoned building of sorts she looked around for an entrance point. Not finding one aside from a scrunched up gap, she was too excited to care. Luckily she could crawl through.

Inside was dark. And she could smell mice...most be some hiding in the darknes somewhere she thought to herself. She figured since this place was supposedly abandoned. The feline hoped there was some sort of light source nearby.

Exploring could wait until the morning...pr atleast when she would wake up wake up again. Carrie yawned laying down, not far from where she had entered in from.

Curled up, the feline's eyes began to close as she dosed off.

(-@experimentedcat )

Dr.Two-Brains had came back from his walk with Glenn Furlblam. It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be, a soft blush left upon his expression. Looking fondly at the cheese bouquet he was given. The mad scientist shook his head, what was he thinking? Sure he wasn't mad at him anymore but he was still frightened at the possibility of liking him. Sure he dated around alot but he always kept them at arms length. The scientist wasn't quite sure why he did that, thankful that when his relationships ended the friendships didn't. He was still in good terms with them all.

When he finally got the sliding door open the villain was surprised to be met with darkness. Huh. The henchmen seemed to haven taken off. Which was fair, it was time for their personal lives that was separate from their jobs. He flipped on the light, missing the curled up Carrie in the corner.

He placed the bouquet of cheese upon the coffee table, humming softly to himself. Dr.Two-Brains couldn't exactly remember where he knew this tune but he still liked to hum it. It always made him feel better. He had a rather long day and it was finally time to unwind. With cheese. He didn't want to wrestle with that mouse attached to his head when he just wanted to take a load off. So he went off into his cheese vault and came out with a tiny stash of the stuff. Sure he could've just ate the bouquet of cheese, he knew it was meant to be eaten but he just couldn't do it. So just left it on the coffee table so he could continue to admire it.

Something had been bothering him as of lately, Something was missing. It wasn't like before where he knew his memories about his past had been scrambled slightly. It was a nagging feeling that just wouldn't leave him alone.

It made his human brain itched like crazy, desperate for whatever it was he was missing.

Dr.Two-Brains had dumped his little stash of cheese upon the coffee table, picking up one piece of stuffing it into his mouth as he plopped himself onto this cheese themed couch.

Tonight he just wanted to relax and unwind instead of the usual scheming and invention building. He was running out of ideas and was becoming burnt out. A well deserved break was what this doctor ordered. Didn't matter if he wasn't even that kind of doctor.

The mouse themed villain soon spotted something moving at the corner of his eye. What? What was that? He turned his head to what had caught his attention and squinted.

The unidentified pile moved once more, revealing to Dr.Two-Brains horror, cat ears. This caused him to spit out the cheese he had been nibbling on all over. Eyes widened in fear as he let out a yell. "C-CAT!!!"

With that he had jumped up and scurried behind the couch, squeaks of fear had been coming from him. He stayed behind the couch, cowering in fear.

Of all the times they decided to leave the lair alone, a random giant cat had made its way in. His heart was pounding ever so loudly within his chest. Too frozen in fear to retrieve a weapon for self defense.

@experimentedcat

[zios-stuff]

TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️⚠️: mention of suicide thoughs (not detailed)

A.n:this is something different from the things I usually right is a blur of a fic that I thought about. It's an alternative story of mad hatter from Alice in wonderland I don't know really how to describe it but yeah ....I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense it's the first time that I write something this freely

(Little dark Mad hatter point of view and the voices in his head)

The madness of the mad hatter

Me thinking like that in front of a mirror for fucks sake

I'm already insane why I have to search more to it

Why I wear hats so big

Why my hair is like this

Why I want to kill people that call me insane

In a world that nothing it is what it truly is and everything is what it isn't the suloution of killing is the most authentic people reaction that someone from the wonderland could never thought

most times when people are furious mad angry with someone here the last think they'll do is harm the person that the anger is from

Am I different from the others

Am I not insane enough

How that's possible I talk to my hats I I drink tea with a mouse and a rabbit I have a half birthday

She

She changed me the girl with the hair like the sun the most normal girl in this upside down world

I was like her once now I remember

A boy destined to be a professor or a doctor with rich parents, a nice house everything in his life painful in organized place and time

In 8:00 he will wake up

In 10:30 music class

In 1:00 English class

In 3:00 math class

In 4:00 how to behave

In6:00 horse riding

In...

Shut up

I hate time and I hate thinking that's stage of my life that wasn't me it was only a nightmare

That's is what mad hatter wanted the boy with brown hair to die accidentally and he would be able to escape from the nice life?

No from the perfection

It's not him

He is everywhere he doesn't belong in organized order he belongs here in this room with his red hair and ribbons everywhere around him even in his mind even in his heart

Why are you hurting ...you're were you belong

Why are you herring you never wanted the life that they design for you

-I don't feel sorry I don't want to go back

Then why do you have a human emotion, an emotion that doesn't suit in a upside down world because even the mad arent that mad

-What do you mean

Hatter why do you want to kill?

Why do you want to kill...even your self...?

A n:I am obsessed with Alice in wonderland and I have a brain riot so yeah I wanted to post this because I don't only right fanfiction with x reader so yeah if you want more let me know

[reckless-glitch]

Scarlet fucked up, drank someone she shouldn't have and suffered the third transformation of her life a few sessions ago. Wrote up the scene and putting it under the read more. Tw: body horror

People always have too much subjectivity when they’re recounting memories. I need to know what really happened, if I could just have some of his blood…

    “Of course you can have some of my blood.” Zareth was smiling at her, answering her thoughts before she could even finish formulating them. “I have no idea what it’ll do to you but wouldn’t it be fun to find out?”

    She knew she shouldn’t. There were too many variables, she had too many responsibilities she couldn’t abandon if it went wrong. She hadn’t drank elder immortal blood since her own transformation and this was blood that once carried all the bloodlines. Madness was a reasonable expectation. Death? Perhaps. 

    “Yes.” She was speaking before rationality could catch up with her. “If you’re willing I would be a fool to pass up the chance.”

    “Excellent.” Zareth was laughing and it shook her but she could feel her focus closing in on his arm, watching the faint pulse of the blood through his veins, desperation for a taste growing in her like a wildfire. 

Without warning Zareth grabbed hold of his own jaw, still laughing, pure joy and pride in his eyes as he tore it in one quick downward motion. It hung, loose and dangling by just a few pieces of sinew as dark blood started pouring from the wound. Calmly he held a wine goblet under the flow, collecting it to the brim. With the other hand he held his lower jaw up in place as the flesh started knitting itself back together. 

Drink, child.  He spoke into her mind as he offered the goblet to her. Hungrily Scarlet accepted. It smelled horrid. Too sweet and fetid but still her mouth watered and without any more thought she lifted it to her lips and drank deeply.

It burned the whole way down and spread through her whole being. She could feel her mind desperately trying to disconnect but she forced herself to stay present and aware. She found herself suddenly on her knees as she felt everything inside herself detach and start pouring out of her mouth in a horrifying, grisly procession. 

This rug was in my family for centuries. She thought dimly. Good thing mother is dead because this would surely get me thrown from the family a second time.

She laughed at her dark joke as her lungs flopped out of her mouth and landed in front of her. She was still retching even though all her organs were now displayed in front of her haphazardly spread across the rug. Deep black was flowing from her mouth and she watched as her heart beat weakly a couple more times before everything blissfully went black.

Scarlet awoke and lazily stretched. She smiled lightly like she had just awoken from a pleasant dream. As she took in her surroundings she realized she was in the Brightsmith holding facility where they often put things that had gotten too rambunctious. The spherical cells blocked all forms of magic and kept anything inside alive even under the worst circumstances. She was naked and noticed that her body was completely free of imperfection. Old scars and beauty marks were wiped clean from whatever transformation she had undergone.

Except…her soul scar. She reached up to touch her chest where it had resided for the last 200 or so years and with a shock she realized there was no resistance. She looked down and where there used to be an angry scarlet colored scar, now there was a darkness. The shape remained but it seemed now to be an actual hole in her being. She sunk her hand in all the way to her wrist and it just seemed to disappear inside herself.

“Hm, that’s new.” The sound of her own voice was impossibly loud which refocused her on her surroundings. She knew the lights in this room were kept dim but they were registering as too bright to her eyes. The stillness of the room was deafening and she was sure she could hear…a rat? No, smaller…a mouse? Scurrying through the next room. She could feel on her entire body the subtle movement of air currents around her as she breathed. Everything was sharper and intense and the realization delighted her. She couldn’t wait to take this new body with its new senses for a midnight run.

“Excuse me, could you let me out?” She spoke quietly to the empty room knowing they would have surveillance on the place. Within moments she heard the twins shuffling excitedly down the hall followed by the sharp controlled heel clicks of Harkness. All three of them entered and looked at her with the purest relief and love on their faces. Scarlet felt a tug somewhere in her core, trying to pull her closer to her family. 

“You’re okay!!” Margaret screamed and Scarlet flinched slightly at the sound but smiled warmly at her niece. 

“More than okay. Tell me, did I cause you any trouble? I’m afraid I don’t remember anything after…” Scarlet trailed off, she wasn’t sure what they knew about her predicament or how much of it she wanted them to know.

“No, no! We were just so worried about you. When Harkness found you somehow alive on the floor he rushed you here but I’m afraid this was the best we could do for you.” Margaret was at the control panel opening the sphere and Harkness crossed the room to help Scarlet hop out of it, wrapping her in a blanket in one fluid motion.

“Thank you, liebling. How long was I out?” Scarlet asked, enjoying the way the blanket felt on her skin.

“Three years.” Harkness finally spoke, the restraint in his voice apparent. 

“I see.” Scarlet thought for a moment, letting the weight of the time she missed wash over her. “I’m sorry it took me so long.” Harkness smiled at her and crushed her into a hug, she could feel his whole body shake with emotion. “It’s okay, I’m here, I’m okay.” she whispered to him as his grip tightened like he was worried she’d fade away.  That night was spent catching up on everything she missed for three years. Which, to a disappointment she wouldn’t outwardly admit to, wasn’t much at all. It seemed Harkness struggled in his grief which was understandable. She knew what it felt like to lose your partner as she had watched him die just a few years prior. But, her grief never stopped her from attending her duties. It just proved to her, yet again that nothing ever gets taken care of if she doesn’t do it herself. While Harkness spoke about how close he had gotten to her mortal family, Scarlet quietly sent a messenger spell to Elizabeth asking her to prepare a room in the temple for a feeding and to also alert The Ascendents in Dunstland to prepare for a meeting tomorrow. She would spend this night with Harkness, comforting him and reconnecting and tomorrow she would teleport herself across the ocean to figure out how to feed this new body and also start to get the affairs of The Ascendents back in order after three years effectively leaderless.

[unknownjpegs]

baby baby baby

She catches him in the kitchen, where he’d purposefully gone to escape her. Benny fishes through the fridge, shoving aside day old take out and expired condiments to find the good beer he keeps in the very back. The sort he doesn’t want to bring out for a party but still have access to in a pinch; like this. When he’s annoyed and in need of distraction, or just needs to be more drunk to navigate the situation. He snags the bottle by the neck and when he unwinds from his crouch, Daisy is there.

She smiles at him, which makes him so angry for a moment, he almost throws the beer bottle against the wall. But then he remembers its stupid local brew that he’d paid too much for. So instead, he hooks his teeth under the cap and pops it off. He slices up his gum a bit, but it doesn’t bother him too much because it makes her flinch. He spits the cap into the sink. It’s pink with the blood and spit.

Then Benny takes a long pull from the beer.

“Hi,” she says.

One of the worst things about Daisy is that no one is able to get mad at her. No one can bring themselves to tell her she’s not invited, or flat out un-fucking-wanted. So she slips into these sorts of things. Tags along after some girl who knows Mouse, or a guy whose friends with Xavier, or one of Lark’s running buddies. She knows everyone, fits herself in wherever she can. She makes friends. And then Benny has to deal with her, because none of those friends are able to give her the reality check she so desperately needs.

“What?” He asks in a clipped tone, limiting himself to one word. Someone comes stumbling into the kitchen, haphazardly grabs a bowl of snacks left on the counter and immediately leaves. Music plays from Lark’s terrible playlist in the background over the sound of peoples voices and Benny thinks about the safety of his room. People don’t go in Ben’s room during these parties. Off fucking limits.

Because Ben is the opposite of Daisy. People do tell him he’s not invited. People do tell him he’s unwanted; weird, strange, unnerving, creepy. People don’t get along with Benny—he doesn’t make friends. People don’t temper their words for his feelings the way they do for this pathetic fucking woman. They avoid him. Which makes this worse, because Daisy had noticed him when he’d noticed her and now here she was. Pointedly not ignoring him. Purposeful in finding him.

Daisy doesn’t like Benny, no matter how hard she’s smiling that big pretend smile of hers. It’s so artfully plastered on that it might have worked if he wasn’t Ben, who people disliked. Who learned early that sometimes people smiled at you, because they were actually just making fun of you all along.

“I mean, like, long time no see,” Daisy says shyly, tucking a strand of her glossy hair behind her ear. Benny takes another swig of beer, leaning back against the counter and staring at her with narrowed eyes. She’s short, just barely comes up to his chin. She curves into herself like she’s bashful, both hands around her solo cup filled with cheap beer off the keg. Her cardigan hangs big around her, emphasizes her petite frame. Benny remembers when she’d been dating Xavier, she’d not gone anywhere without being firmly around his arm.

Because Benny knows it makes her uncomfortable, he doesn’t say anything back. His sunglasses sit low on his nose, enough that when he tilts his chin down to stare at her, his eyes peek over the dark navy rims. She wears her discomfort bodily, tapping fingers on the cup, glancing at the floor, scuffing a ballet flat. She steps closer, though, because she knows she can get away with it. Daisy doesn’t respect personal space. It doesn’t apply to her.

“I just wanted you to know,” she begins by setting her cup down on the sink counter. “I’m like, really happy for Maran.” Benny stares at the cup, because he can’t stomach looking at her. Those big, docile eyes on him, water lined in pity. I’m so happy for Maran, it’s so sweet of him to perform charity.

He stops himself from telling her to eat shit and die by nursing the beer once more. It stings the cut on his gum.

“You know, I just—like—” She laughs in that girlish way, putting a hand over her mouth. It seems genuine, but it also feels like a trap. The hair on Ben’s arms raise, his eyes darting over her to look for an exit. Xavier to wander by and notice, or Lark to come in and start asking if he can order a pizza or anyone, to rescue him from this fucking girl. Instead she fishes into her giant cardigan, patting herself down.

“Like—I didn’t know Maran was bisexual, is all.” She finds it, tugging it smoothly out of an oversized pocket she hadn’t really needed to hunt for. There’s a little charm that dangles off of it, a duck. Screams of Xavier, like a gift from him he wants to snatch off. His hand is cold around the beer, slick with condensation. The blood mingles poorly with the beer. “He never told me.”

“Not your business,” Ben snaps out from a tightly wound jaw. Daisy puts her hand to her lips, upturned brows saying ‘oh no, am I being offensive again?’ without a real apology. There’s a painful knot underneath his sternum that keeps getting bigger and bigger, with everything he could say to this woman. Instead he rolls his eyes and shoves himself off from the counter he leans against. To let her get to him is to let her win, he knows that. But—Benny is competitive. He always has been. So when she lays the trap, it’s easy to get caught in it.

“Oh, wait, I wanted to,” she’s hopping around to keep him cornered, one of her delicate, slim hands help up as she smiles. “I have some pictures of him on my phone that I could send you? I mean, the safe for work ones.” Her teasing tone is meant to come off playful. Everything about Daisy is meant to be innocent or playful or sweet or demure or polite. And Benny feels gaslit by the whole fucking world that he’s the only one who sees it—the truth. Slippery offensive fucking snake.

Bitch.

Daisy lifts her phone, with it’s little duck charm and Benny is thinking safe for work ones when his hand shoots forward.

Benny hears her shriek but his ears are ringing. Blood stream heavy with alcohol that he should have stopped drinking an hour ago—head full of safe for work ones, the implication or it, the reality that those exist and—he can’t stop thinking of a story Maran had told him once. Couldn’t even consider it a story, couldn’t really consider it more than a passing comment that he’d barely said with his whole chest, had barely been able to sit with for too long; about his arm around her shoulder and her shrugging it off, because when they were alone, the affection seemed less important. He’s thinking safe for work ones and less important and then he’s throwing the phone at the wall as hard as he possibly can.

Which is very hard.

Music is still playing so the party doesn’t come to a complete dead silence, but it’s the closest thing. Except for Daisy’s immediate whimpering crying that Benny finds easy to ignore, no one’s talking anymore. And it’s not just Daisy that he’s ignoring now, but everyone. Shoves his way around the corner of the kitchen past someone asking him ‘what the fuck’ in that tone. There’s an awkward laugh that tries to fill the tension, and suddenly a warm hand around his elbow.

“Ben—” An easy, flat palm to Xavier’s chest gets him to let go before it causes a fight. But it’s also enough to make his attention shift. Back to where all the attention has shifted (just like she likes it, he thinks, just like she fucking likes it). Ben has a dizzying sensation of his heart being scooped out when he notices the silly bright pink shirt that Maran is wearing among the others that had crowded around Daisy. It’s a shirt he’d bought him, a bright white print across the chest that says I KISSED SASQUATCH IN WHITEHALL, NY. Had been so entirely unfunny that he’d had to buy it for him.

Couple sizes too big. That’s how Maran wears his shirts. Most of his clothes. This adorable too big style that hangs off him. Sometimes, he catches Benny, pulls his shirt over top of him, gets them tight together as a playful joke. Sometimes, Benny wears those shirts to bed because they’re comfortable. They smell like Maran; they smell soft and safe. Benny feels buzzing in his skull, watching Daisy put her slim hand in Maran’s, so he can help her up from the floor, where she’d picked up the little cracked phone. He hopes all her fucking safe for work photos are lost. That the little duck charm has snapped off.

“Easy, Benny,” Xavier is saying next to him, like he’s a wild caught dog they picked up out a back alley. Or a ball python that had slithered out it’s enclosure, gone rogue among all the party goers. A scorpion accidentally sleeping inside a jacket pocket. People stare at him, his skin itchy and hot, stretched tight over his bones. Daisy has wrapped her slim, pretty fingers around Maran’s palm. This is his fucking apartment, and people are still staring at him. Surprised. They shouldn’t be. He’s never done anything that should indicate he’s anything other than the kind of guy to smash someones phone at a party.

Benny doesn’t trust himself to say anything, but he shoves himself past Xavier’s concerned outstretched hands. If they touch him, he’ll scream. Cannot withstand that pitying patting to his back, so he goes for the door instead. He yanks it open and realizes the beer bottle is still in his hand, half full. He drains it in an easy swig and then throws that back into the party as well, to astonished yelling.

He’s going for the elevator when he hears Maran’s voice at the end of the hall. The party spills out from the apartment door, too loud. Business back to usual, monster out the way. Benny feels hypersensitive to that noise, bunching his shoulders up to his ears as he continues his hard stomp. His hands are flexing at his thighs, opening, closing, numb. Nothing could actually ever be loud enough to drown out the sound of Maran calling out to him. He wouldn’t want it to, but his boyfriends voice echoes that long beige hallway. Makes his shoulders jump.

Benny is prepped to hit the elevator button until the doors open. He dodges around the woman coming out, who gives him a wide berth and giant eyes, his stride unbroken.

“Ben! Wait—Ben—”

He regrets it immediately, but Benny’s fist punches the close door button. He glances up, just in time to watch Maran’s face fall, his outstretched hand retract, the doors closing him off from view. There’s a hissing sound as the shitty apartment elevator starts descending.

“Fuck!” Benny slaps his hand forward against the button for his floor. He slams at it, leaning against the panel. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He chants out, eyes screwed shut. Useless, because he knows it’s going to go all the way down to the lobby before it makes its slow crawl up. And by then, Maran will be back in the party—Benny doesn’t feel brave enough to go back to that fucking party. He sags against the button panel, forehead pressed tight against the wall. He keeps his eyes closed, as if it could help him erase the memory of Maran’s hand falling to his side as the doors closed.

Sad. Like, actually sad. Like heart broken sad, not pouting playfully for attention or sighing petulantly about something. Sad. Benny grinds his head to the wall. Hates himself. Hates himself so much.

He pushes off from it and then stands in the middle of the elevator. Hands go into his pockets, fiddling with the stack of cards that he keeps there. He’ll go for a walk. Cool off, slink back like the fucking loser he is, hide in his bedroom. Hope there’s less eyes up there by the time he gets back. Hope Xavier navigates Daisy out of the party. Hates him too, because he should be crueler to her. Like she was to him, in those little moments that picked apart his self esteem. Instead, like Maran, he’s probably talking her down. Telling her it’s okay if she stays for a bit. Monster gone. No more scorpion.

The doors hiss open and Benny takes a step out and nearly collides with Maran.

“Shit!” He yelps out, dancing to the side to get out of the closing elevator doors. Maran takes him by the hips, unconscious gesture as he pants, while they both stumble into the lobby of the apartment complex. He’s sweating, little beads running from his temples as he huffs, chest fluttering with the labored breathing. Benny blinks and suddenly feels the weight of how drunk he is. The world can’t stay still on it’s axis, tilts this way and that. A little ring in his ear as he looks at Maran.

“Why did—you—do that?” Maran heaves, his hands still firmly around Benny’s hips. Despite it all, they’re nice. Warm. He likes being held that way because it’s rare. People don’t hold Benny.

“Did you run down here?”

“Answer me,” Maran demands. A bead of sweat drips off his chin. A light in the lobby has blown, the other one continuing to flick off and on. It’s a shit building, should be torn down and put back together. A misshapen beast of two and three bedroom apartments crammed together into one long, tall building that probably never actually passed code. Benny rents it from a guy named Brock that lives in Miami, Florida. The rent gets paid on the first of every month through a money app on his phone.

Benny’s breathing is fast, like he’s the one who had been running.

“No,” he says swiftly and turns. Maran’s hands attempt to stay there (and even though he’s moving, he’s heading toward the exit, he wants them, he wants to be someone that gets held by other people) but eventually they drop because Benny is walking too fast. He shoves himself through the door, hip to the crash bar and stumbles down the concrete steps onto the sidewalk.

The neighborhood is just as alive as it is dead. He can hear an ambulance in the background, a group of cats yowling a street down. A car drives by slowly like it might want to pay attention to the scene, if there’s going to be one. Then speeds off when the driver glances enough at Benny. Scorpion. The night is cold and silent otherwise.

“Stop it, Ben!” Maran continues, his voice more authoritative than Benny has ever heard it before. And it actually works to make him lock in place, one hand in his pocket, the other frozen in his tangled blond hair. “What did she do?”

“She didn’t ha-have to do anything,” Benny sneers coldly. “I’m just an asshole.”

“No you aren’t.”

“You’re n-not paying attention if you think that.”

One of his favorite things about Maran (of which there are so many) is that he never holds in an expression; his eyebrows crease together, his soft lips purse and his chin tucks down. He looks half wounded and half angry. He looks out of place in his silly pink shirt, on the sidewalk, with Benny. And really, isn’t that the issue? Isn’t that the issue? That Maran shouldn’t fit in all the ways that he does fit—and it makes Benny so nervous all the fucking time that one day Maran is going to wake up and realize that. And Jesus, Benny is drunk. Head spinning, concrete feeling wobbly drunk. His mouth still hurts from where he’d cut it on that bottle cap.

“You’re better than that,” Maran seethes out furiously. He crosses arms over his chest, bumps himself closer until they’re standing directly in front of one another. The invasion of personal space should have the same reaction that it always does for Benny; he should shove himself away and lash out. Instead he freezes like a street animal come in to shelter, being offered a kind hand. Benny glares, mean and nasty with it.

“No I’m fucking not,” he replies hotly. “D-Do-Don’t do that.”

“Do—”

“That!” Benny yells, throwing hands up. “Don’t act li-like I’m n-not a fu-fu-fucking asshole, cause I am! You’re da-dating me, so get used to that.”

“We’re dating each other,” Maran hisses, gesturing between the two of them. His cheeks are dark red, the color inky over his nose. The furious blush extends all the way down his pretty throat. Benny has seen Maran angry before—it’s really not typical. At all. And they’ve had fights before, but this is cresting on top five, if not the top of all of them. Because the fights usually last only a minute and then it’s easy to find where the hurt started and go from there.

Fighting with Maran is easy because it never got to the fighting part really. The communication came easier. Maran, talking, sometimes more than he needed and Benny, silent, and listening to every single word.

But they’re drunk. Both of them—and Benny is hearing Daisy over and over and over in his head and he’s imagining her touching Maran’s arm, the swell of his bicep, imagining her mouth touching his, their tongues together. Imagining Maran’s dark hands spreading over her. Imagining her angling her phone to get a picture; sees her demure smile in his head, like a rotting burn mark. It makes his mouth taste sour, his stomach roll over.

“Why are y-you nice to her?” Benny accuses, taking his own step forward and into Maran’s space. The sidewalk feels small suddenly, closing in on them. The flickering street light makes shadows appear and disappear on Maran’s beautiful face. “She’s a fucking cunt, Maran.” And she hurt you. She hurt you, I get to hate her for that, she hurt you, he thinks.

“Stop acting like this—”

“And act m-mo-more like yo-your ex girlfriend?” Benny laughs but the sound is haunting in the silent night, on the city street, with the light flickering. “Maybe if I l-looked like Daisy and acted li-like Daisy, people wo-wouldn’t be so fucking confused when th-they see us together!”

And he yells it so loud it echoes. So loud the ambulance might hear him over it’s own loud screaming, so loud it startles the fighting cats into silence, so loud, he’s almost positive it reaches all the way to the upper floor where the apartment is. So loud Daisy hears it, so loud all their friends hear and know and see how embarrassing Benny is being, how absolutely ashamed he is of himself in that moment—but he doesn’t act ashamed. Instead, his shoulders are heaving because he yells it, because he’s so loud. And his pale face is flushed a dark red color that make his eyes look scary (because they are scary, he’s been told that since he was a kid) and Maran is staring at him, surprised.

Which makes it worse. Which makes it worse, because Maran is surprised that Benny can be so awful, which means that deep down, Maran thinks Benny is, as he said ‘better than that’. And Benny really wishes he hadn’t had that last beer.

“I kn-no—I kn-nn—” he folds both hands over his mouth, because he can’t get the word out. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back and looks at the sky, which is dark with no stars. No smoggy gray clouds, either. It is crystalline in it’s perfect black. I know, Benny is thinking,

I know people think you’re dating me for fun, to try something new, before you just find some other Daisy, but the next Daisy you find might treat you right, better than me. Then what? I’d have no excuse to be this awful. I don’t even have a good one to begin with.

“You can’t do that,” Maran replies finally, his hands balled up into fists. He fits them against Benny’s sides and when he does, they slowly unclench and turn to open palms that are suddenly cupping his rib cage. Maran’s eyes are dark and furious and the absolute lack of pity makes Benny dizzy. Maran is still angry, a wrinkle over his nose as his mouth grimaces, as his brows turn in. His cheeks red and splotchy with the emotion.

“Alright?”

“Do what?” Benny prompts softly. His own hands are still by his thighs. Maran’s hands move on every heavy breath, still holding.

“Well—don’t break people’s phones for one,” Maran says hotly, using his surprising, hidden strength to shake Benny slightly. Strands of his floppy, blond hair fall forward into his face and Benny thinks he’ll completely lose it if Maran touches him there—he can see dark brown eyes look at that movement, at those stringy strands. “Don’t—and don’t just—don’t hold all that in there, Ben—the hell, right? Please, talk to me about that. Right? Talk to me about that.”

And then Maran does exactly what Benny is thinking no don’t do that—he lifts a hand and brushes back Benny’s hair and Benny moves into that touch and then falls forward. His forehead lands on Maran’s shoulder—who makes a huffing sound, this cute little ‘oof’. His arms lift and slip around the other man’s waist and he crushes them together uncomfortably. It’s not sexual or even romantic, it is really just a hard, brutal squeeze of them together.

“She was talking about you,” Benny mumbles, face pressed into the curve of Maran’s neck and shoulder. He smells comforting, this mix of masculine body spray and laundry detergent and something sugary sweet—the drinks he’d probably been having all night. In that brief moment, Benny is reminded of how his blankets smell every single time Maran spends the night, which is so often he should live there (which is something Benny’s thought and not vocalized, because as is evident, Benny simply does not vocalize anything).

“Guess she can’t get over me, yeah?” Maran laughs, his warm palm spreading up the back of Benny’s neck, fingers tangling into his blond hair. It’s enough to nearly make Ben tremble. “What was she saying then—will it change my mind? I’ll go back, break her phone too? Make myself a hypocrite, Ben.”

You’re too good, Benny thinks in reply. His eyes are wet, which makes him too afraid to withdraw and look at Maran. Instead he wipes his face into Maran’s shirt, makes him laugh. Benny’s arms don’t relinquish and he wonders if he’s hurting the other man at all, but there’s no complaints.

“M’not pressin’ you, Ben—I just—sometimes you do things—sometimes you’re mean for no reason, right? And I don’t like that side of you all the time, but,” Benny’s glad they’re not looking at each other, because he cannot school his face into an expression that is anything other than deeply vulnerable and scared. “But, I really fuckin’ meant it when I said you’re better than that. Alright? That’s what makes me mad sometimes. Not you doing it, just knowing you’re better—you are. You’re so good, Ben, promise I’m not just saying that.”

The bruising force of Benny’s arms becomes hard enough than that Maran wheezes. Then he loosens all over, like he’s deflated of energy, his hands slipping to the backs of Maran’s shoulders, just to hold then. And to be held, which is nice. Because people don’t hold Benny, not like Maran is in that moment, holding him.

The reality of the moment is surreal, when he realizes they’re having a couples argument on the sidewalk, outside his apartment building. A real couples argument; that’s enough to make Benny sort of laugh, that high anxious laugh. He untucks himself from Maran just enough to look at him. Thankful to see a bit of tears in Maran’s eyes too.

“Baby,” Benny teases, wiping thumbs over Maran’s cheeks. “Baby, baby, baby.” He repeats, kissing each word to a part of Maran’s face.

“I’m still mad at you,” Maran manages, in a soft voice. There’s no heat to it at all.

“Sh,” Benny whispers, kissing him finally on the lips as well.

And then they really kiss. Really kiss, with their lips parted and Benny holding Maran’s cheeks and tilting him back as he bends forward to kiss him harder. Messy, with tongue, with hunger and apology and intensity and excitement. Maran’s hands still cupped around Benny’s ribs, tightening and gripping as he’s kissed like that. Really kissed. And when they pull apart to both suck in the cold night air, Benny is fumbling through his jacket pockets. Maran watches with big, gorgeous eyes until the keys to the mustang are located and then he’s smiling. Really smiling, really kissing, really, really, really in love.

—

It’s in the thin, yellow light of morning that they end up going back up to the apartment. The time where the world is still mostly asleep, day break just finally cresting through ugly, gray clouds. Maran looks good in the morning light, his skin tan and pretty. The light follows him, all through the apartment lobby into the elevator. Not for the first time does Benny have to pinch the skin of his inner wrist and remind himself this is all real and not a strange simulation he���s fallen into. Not the first time they’d stayed awake all night together, either.

It’s been a thing, even before Benny had kissed Maran—no. Maran had kissed Benny, in the pool, water rising up to their chins. Sometimes, he forgot that key detail that feels loud and important as they stand side by side in the elevator. He forgets Maran had kissed him first, had pulled him in. His brave fucking boy.

The elevator dings on his floor and he turns his palm outward to accept a hand that was already moving there. Maran laces fingers with him. Gives an adorable squeeze. Benny is unsurprised to find the door unlocked when they get there—if anyone tried to rob the apartment, they’d just run into two very angry, very capable twenty year olds waiting for an excuse.

Not that Xavier and Lark look threatening at all, on the couch together. Xavier sleeps on his back, arm thrown over his face, chest rising and falling. Lark sits, the long redheads legs thrown over his lap. Bundled deep in an oversized sweatshirt, his face barely visible, just enough for him to be looking at his own phone. His eyes are swollen and sleepy when they sway toward Maran and Benny. He raises a hint of fingers in greeting, then looks back to his phone. Xavier makes a sound like a car dying and then coughs and continues sleeping.

“I should ring Benji,” Maran says as they get into Benny’s room. “S’weird he’s not still here with Xavier, yeah?”

Benny cannot contain his laugh, a wheezing snort. He shuts the door harder than he needs to and turns to Maran. Plucks the phone from his hand and puts it down onto his messy desk. His flat palm pushes Maran down onto his messy bed, where the smell of him will linger all day long and Benny will find himself ignoring his essay, will put himself face down in the bed and maybe even fucking palm one out to the mere thought of Maran in this messy fucking bed.

Only now his thoughts are purely on sleep, as he jerks jeans from Maran and throws them to the side. As he pulls off his own and crawls over Maran. He plants kisses from elbow to shower, makes his sleepy boy laugh.

“The only th-thing you’re doing, for a solid six—at min, baby, six—is sleeping in th-this fucking bed with me.”

“Let me put the sound on, in case he needs me,” Maran says, hand fumbling for the phone. He manages to snag it, fiddle with his volume and then place it back. Benny, while he does all that, is already laying his tired, heavy body down, a hand tucking around Maran’s thigh and pulling a leg around his hip, because he likes to sleep just like that.

“I need you,” Benny thinks—and realizes in panic that he didn’t think it, but said it out loud.

Maran’s hand cups behind his neck, pulls him in closer. And they fall asleep, Maran holding him just like that.

[hotgilearsummer]

15 19 25 42 for koel!

15. is there something that never fails to make them laugh?

Not yet. They're still discovering their sense of humour. They didn't have a lot of positive social interaction pre-Warblers, and at the Warbler estate after The Incident things tended to be very serious and sincere. They're learning that they like to tease Nymian a little bit (even though they didn't mean to tease when they started with the sun thing), and they sometimes find Wilder's awkward sincerity very funny, but they still haven't really laughed much. Most of the things that they've laughed at over their life have been funny things their pets have done or sometimes when they were young and watching people mess up from afar.

19. what sparks genuine, unadulterated rage in them?

Strahd lol

Beyond Strahd (because he's classed as a monster in their mind, therefore his behaviour is expected), they are very angry at van Richten at the moment. Although they logically agree that you have to choose your battles, the idea of leaving people behind or intentionally choosing to not try and save everybody makes them so deeply furious that I think... If they had to sacrifice anybody for the greater good, they'd go ahead and choose him, for his making that argument and the way he treated Nuri when the party was discovering who he was. He's consistently made choices that make Koel angry

25. who is their best friend?

As much as I'd like to say it's someone in the party, it is their mouse Wren. Koel gets attached fast, but the party has still only known each other for a couple of weeks and Wren is the only creature Koel can't currently fathom parting with unless it's due to death.

If pets don't count, then it's probably Nuri, because Nuri is number 1 always (obv) for being mr sunshine. It was Wilder, but Koel is currently afraid to share their monstrous-ness with him because he has historically reacted A Little Poorly to their plans. They're finding that they enjoy the company of Bryo a lot, so she's next after Nuri at the moment, even though they were very wary of her at first. Nymian is currently coming in last because they're frustrated with him but not by a lot because they can tell he behaves the way he does because he's worried about the group. His running back like that when he thought the group was in trouble after he'd stormed off definitely has them like 🤔 instead of fully mad. They feel more distant with Wilder than Nymian, but they're madder at Nymian lol

42. can they dance?

Well, as much as the nat 1 they got at the dinner with Strahd would indicate no, they actually can. They're trained in ballroom dancing, and they're usually fairly good at it. It bleeds into their fighting, too. Since they still don't have a huge amount of real world experience, their fencing is very classroom-trained and official-competition-rules restricted, and those kinds of learned movement patterns define their fighting style.

They also fully understand that their strong suit is in those regulated environments, which is part of why they like to guide things into becoming set duels rather than brawls, with rules and backup safety measures. It's part of the perspective they have on dealing with Strahd, and part of why they wanted to make the deal they did with him. They're trying to make it a semi-controlled environment and a game/challenge rather than open season where they believe Strahd might be more tempted to slaughter at will. Whether that works or not (unlikely), we'll see.

Anyway, yeah they can dance, when they're prepared for it. They probably were taught set choreography to specific song types.

[lokigodofaces]

intense ranting about someone that doesn't know how to read the description of a fic and is mad at me for my content. continuing from this post

I am very clear about Loki being asexual in my Loki/reader. Depending on the site and how it works, I have it in at least one of these: title, description, tags. I also have an author's not about a third of the way through from when I confirmed Loki as ace, and have only kept it because I keep getting encouraging comments there. But at the beginning of reading, you have 1-3 places listing Loki as ace, and another partway through.

Well, I repeatedly get comments about how "disappointed" people are that he is ace in this fic on that author's note. Which always annoys me because it's not like I was hiding it, it's your fault that you didn't see it. It's always annoying and frustrating, but someone was particularly rude today and now I want to scream.

Allow me to show you the conversation. This is on the author's note and about Loki's asexuality.

X: Hey that's cool you do you. I am just angry that I am being told this after reading like 11 chats [chapters]. I already was invested in the story wish I knew sooner.

I'll admit it, I get comments all the time that seem off. Things like, "Yeah, sorta disappointed that there won't be smut, but I'm really proud of you and I love this story and can't wait for more <3." Yes, there are problems with this type of comment still. Honestly, I don't think it's appropriate to ever tell an author you are disappointed by the lack of smut in their work. But I appreciate that they at least are being supportive. This comment though is different. She is "angry" at me because she didn't know that Loki is ace in this fic. And it is implied that she doesn't want to read further (which is fine, read what you want, just don't tell the author that you don't like it, that's rude). And, (understandably, I would think), I am upset by this because I did say that Loki is ace already, it is in the description.

Me: If you are referring to Loki being asexual, I literally said it in the description.

I will admit, I probably should have used more tact when saying this, but whatever. This was my response, which went straight to the point. I did make it clear that Loki is asexual. The exact sentence is literally, "Loki is greybiromantic asexual." Very straightforward. No room for confusion, right? To which she responds:

X: I'm sorry , but I still don't see that in the description. But I don't use this website often so maybe I am missing it

At this point, I am annoyed. It isn't that hard to find descriptions (the post linked at top has links to quotev and you can do a little scavenger hunt and look for the description and see how easy it is). Quotev says how long someone has been on Quotev, so I checked. She did join Quotev 1 day ago. So, yes, I should be more lenient than if it was someone who's been on for months/years. But, still, who reads a fic without the full description? What sort of person does that to themselves? I responded with directions on finding the description, and haven't gotten an answer yet.

Me: Desktop: Scroll to the top of the fic. Just above the title and to the right are two buttons. The right one says, "Info." Move your mouse over it, and a bunch of things will pop up, including the full description. Android mobile: Scroll to the top of the fic. Above and to the right of the title is a button with an "i" in a circle. Click it, and a bunch of things will pop up, including the full description. Idk if it's different on Apple, but it's probably similar or the same.

I admit, I've been having some wild mood swings the past couple days, so maybe I'm overreacting. But this is just so ridiculous. Why would you start a fic without knowing what it's about? And why would you think it's okay to be angered by an author's content, especially something like queer rep? Just,

*screams*