pretty guardian

[prettyamanita]

ghculishscn‌:

“Question, who does a guy need to kiss around here in order to find the answer he’s looking for?” Ender questioned the person closest to him as he glanced up from his tablet that displayed some digital copies of case files. A detective’s work was never truly finished and he’d had his work cut out for him recently. It was still too risky to even dream of summoning the undead to help him put a case together, but at the same time, going old school had never been his style. “Like I have a feeling there’s a connection here yet feelings aren’t exactly accepted as evidence.”

He took a deep breath and flipped the cover over the device. There was no use in dwelling over it for too long because then he just got frustrated. “Anyway, how’s life going? Going to that Foundation Day ball by any chance?”

“Wouldn’t it just be dreamy if all your problems would be solved with a kiss?” she asked. “Why can’t we all just live in a fairy tale, huh?” Dot twirled on her tiptoes, a stocking-clad leg popping up as she slowed to a giggly stop. Her hands cupped her cheeks and with a satisfied little hum, she tilted her head. “Of course, the Foundation Ball is the closest I’m ever gonna get to be a real life Cinderella!” she said. “Except if I leave a glass slipper on the stairwell, it’s gonna get swiped and posted on eBay instead of returned by a prince.”

Dot’s eyes fell upon his tablet and she wondered, for the briefest of moments, if any of those cases involved her recent escapades. Underneath the pleats of her red, knee-length skirt were a myriad of bruises and bandages from her latest run-ins with vigilantes who always tried stopping her good work. Why didn’t they understand that she never stole from anyone who didn’t deserve it? She didn’t steal for the challenge or thrill like her equally infamous partner in crime, but because she considered herself a modern day Robin Hood -- a woman of the people, an anti-hero righting the wrongs of corruption and injustice no matter the legalities, a single voice surrendering her own safety for higher ideals. If that made her a villain, then as she loved to say: boo-hoo.

“Oh, just trying to get back into the dating game! You wouldn’t happen to know any studs looking for a Cinderella at the ball, would ya?” she said, winking. “And don’t give me any of your suspects unless they’re criminally cute.” 

[prettyamanita]

godtethys‌:

the circus, he knew the setting all too well. the roar of the crowd, the misfit group of unique individuals traveling from place to place, living in and out of suitcases, craving the thrill of entertaining those who come for a show. he used to be one of them, an acrobat. he would jump from rope to rope, gripping his parents hands and twirling in mid air. he used to smile as the wind disheveled his gelled hair and he would laugh when the crowd gasped at the sheer talent the circus had to offer. 

he sat in the front row bleachers, eyes glazed over in boredom as a tiger and his old ring leader took the stage. ❝you come here to animal abuse central often? hoping to see dumbo up there?❞

Shimmering, scarlet-painted lips pursed into a playful pout as she placed her hands upon her hips. Dottie had a cheeky, feisty streak just as bold as her Crystalline accent -- albeit, said accent was slightly muffled from the lollipop in her mouth. “All the posters downtown promised that I’d be amazed,” she said. “And so here I am, waiting for something or someone to blow my mind.” 

Most of her expectations came from entertainment -- melodramatic soap operas, feel-good musicals, romance novels bundled in a ‘three for the price of one’ deal at the supermarket. And so far, the circus wasn’t anything like she’d been lead to believe. She’d hoped that the costumes, at least, would be everything The Greatest Showman and Sailor Moon’s ‘Dead Moon Circus’ episodes hyped them up to be. But, she’d been disappointed to see more outfits looking like they could be bought from Party City for Halloween than works of art.

A high, dark ponytail swished as she turned her head and a midnight-black gaze fell upon the ringleader taking center stage. She’d dressed her best, stolen pearls looped around her neck and all, just for the occasion. “But if you’re too good for the circus,” she said, slender hand reaching up to idly play with her necklace. “Then why did you come?”

[prettyamanita]

rohancism‌:

A clenched, white-knuckled fist raised towards the screen threateningly, just as censored curses tumbled from his tight-lipped mouth. The fist soon retreated to instead become buried in a head full of curls; technology was definitely WINNING. “I just don’t know how to get rid of all of this,” Rohan gestured towards the ads that littered his makeshift website, promoting nearby singles and male enhancement medication. “Have I given myself a virus? I can’t afford that! The whole reason I’ve made this cursed webpage was to make money. Nobody is going to want to buy my honey now. I’m ruined, finished.”

“You know, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I offered to be your fairy godmother,” she said. Dot’s hands, gloved in cherry-red satin to her elbows, clasped behind her back as she leaned over the man’s shoulder. Their initial meeting hadn’t done much to repair the man’s unease around mutants, and she’s hate to accidentally touch him and return to square one. “Okay, I can’t say I’ve had much experience with website building,” she said. Her rouge lips pursed in response to a flash of another, raunchy singles advertisement warning them that their service was “too hot” for ninety percent of people to handle. 

“But what if we, like, made your honey business an Instagram account instead?” she asked. “Not to gloat, but I’m not too shabby at painting a pretty picture! I mean, where do you think all those snazzy photographs of Tux in the tabloids come from? We’ll make the photos so delicious lookin’, nobody will scroll through their feed without placing an order!”

[prettyamanita]

tcrrestrial‌:

“OH. MY. GOD.” The girl exclaimed, the poster of the lineup clutched with apparent tightness between her fingers. The centre of it had already begun giving to tearing, but she didn’t release her grip all the same. “I KNOW……ABSOLUTELY NOBODY,” It was said with the signature whining of a young girl just now realising she had been living under a big, Crystalline City shaped rock. She was always being called out for her lack of musical taste, but now there was an entire event through which her n00bness would emerge. This is what she got for socialising. God, she was glad her face wasn’t on full display for once.

“Okay, cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool - not cool,” She whipped around to the first person she saw. “You there! Tell me which band here is the least mainstream so I can go and look cool in front of my friends.”

“Oh, me?” she said, hand flying to her collarbone in surprise. “If you want to look cool, why not just be honest about whatever band you like best?” Dottie wasn’t a devout follower of local bands or the music scene in general, but there were some real cuties on the advertisements. Twisting a lock of dark hair around her finger, she toyed with the idea of picking up merchandise like a desk calendar or t-shirt from the merchandise pre-sales.

She winked. 

“Confidence sells,” she said. “Your friends will think you’re like, so much cooler if you never make apologies for liking what you like. And honestly, I don’t know about any of these bands either! But, I’ll wait until I hear ‘em play before deciding which ones catch my eye.” 

[prettyamanita]

[prettyamanita]

greyxw‌:

He was always the first one to walk down that beautiful iridescent tunnel.

It wasn’t by coincidence, either. Wade had never really been one to sleep so late, he was always in bed early and up first thing in the morning to start his day…but there was just something about the thought of leaving that sweet voice on the other side of the curtain alone that stung a little too much. A dream spent with the woman on the other side of the curtain was well worth missing the morning and Wade wouldn’t want it any other way.

The change in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed, what was normally lighter, happier and usually teasing was now less lively, and far more quiet. No, no, no, this wont do. 

He picks himself up off of the stark white floor takes a few steps over to the curtain, plopping back down right in front of the silhouette across from him. Legs crossed, his hands placed gently in his lap, he presses an ear to the curtain and just takes a few minutes to listen to her as she begins about her day. 

“I’m sorry sugar,” he begins, sighing gently as he taps his fingers on the curtain, “that guy, what was his name, Dave? He doesn’t know what he’s missing and you’re better off without him. Hell, being single isn’t so bad, you don’t have to share your food with anyone.” 

“Maybe that’s a perk for you,” she sighed. “But for normal people who aren’t figments of my imagination, sharing is way more fun.” Dot combed her fingers through loose, dark tresses and winced when her ring finger snagged on a knot. That was surprisingly accurate for a dream; she remembered an unexpected rain shower undoing all the work of her flat-iron, peeling off her soaked-to-the-bone clothes, and telling herself that she would deal with frizzy waves and a potential cold in the morning. 

“Why do ya think so much stuff comes in pairs, huh?” she said. “Sharing’s so great, there’s stuff designed to be shared. Like, what’s the whole point of a Kit-Kat bar if you aren’t breaking off the pieces to split with someone?”

Dot continued to comb through her hair, but in a more sullen and finicky way. She couldn’t fully enjoy the sheer accuracy of the dream, which left her hair damp and scented like summer rain. No, she didn’t even fully take in the way the curtain shivered as the person on the other side tapped it. A heartbreak fiasco would make anyone upset. But for Dot, she experienced at least one love-related breakdown every two weeks. 

“You’re sweet and all, but I’m starting to think maybe love’s just not in the cards for me,” she said. A strong Crystalline accent permeates her words, giving even the most softly spoken words a pinch of sass and extra punch. “It never works out like it’s supposed to. Don’t tell anyone -- well, you can’t tell anyone because you’re imaginary -- but, I wonder if I’m the problem. Not everyone’s double-life leads them to their very own Tuxedo Mask. Sometimes it just leads a girl to a whole lotta heartache.” 

[prettyamanita]

latorre-x‌:

he took his seat, next to the lady speaking to him. her words, not at all assuring, though they did speak for a certain level of toughness that was inadmissible to a wondering eye. his eyes were still on Max as the boy continued climbing on his merrily way. the son offered a headshake to the father, and Judas’s eyebrows furrowed even more. the defiance, a trait passed down from his mother, of course. at least, that’s what Judas could argue these days. the rebellious nature, sure, could be a mixture of both genes.

“Mr. Monkeybars shaking his head at me.” he pointed over to his child. “He knows how dangerous it is, and he never learns from a fall.” 

though, that comment alone had Judas wondering if it were his own nature that rubbed off on the boy. but there was a silent agreement that all children their age were stubborn. perhaps it was because they were friends, one in the same. which was becoming more obvious as Judas scanned the park for Little Miss Strawberry helmet.

“Oh, we know Scout,” he playfully chuckled, spotting her strawberry helmet as one of her more defining characteristics to the father. he still found it ingenious, though Minan would roll over in her grave if Judas made Max wear a helmet twenty-four/seven. and while he was already worried about Max falling off the monkey bars there was a silent anxiety that once Max found Scout they’d be there all day.

he scrunched his nose at the selection of magazines, the FUNGI mag bringing forth the most curiosity. “Do you mind if I borrow one of those to pass the time with you? I suppose it would be more enriching than obsessing over daredevil over there.”

“Can’t be too dangerous if they let kids play on it,” she said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, mister! But, what do you expect him to do at the playground? He’s not gonna sit quiet by the fence and admire the monkey bars from afar. Come on, you gotta remember what it’s like being a kid.” 

Dot did not, personally, remember the majority of her childhood. It came to her in vague impressions, as though remembering events reflected off a foggy mirror. Nevertheless, she held onto hope that she would find a sliver of red crystal embedded in a tree or having been made into jewelry, have it join the rest of her soul shards, and be inundated with memories of her youth. From what she could remember, however, she’d been a rambunctious, adventurous little headache herself. 

“That’s the spirit!” she said, grinning. The woman’s homegrown Crystalline accent cuts through the excited shrieks and shrills of children chasing each other around the playground. “We’ll smoke ‘em out like a couple of crooks once the ice cream truck makes its rounds. Once they hear the truck’s jingle, we’ll get our way. Is Max the friend in Scout’s playgroup that’s lactose intolerant? Eh, but I guess the truck sells strawberry pops and dairy-free fudgesicles” She leaned over, seized the canvas bag by the handles, and held it out to Judas with arms outstretched. “Take your pick.” 

[prettyamanita]

grxmviscera‌:

laela hadn’t intended to be caught off track in such a manner, only stopping to allow her ‘pet’ — a tiny could-be catahoula leopard mongrel in the right light, but given the mix and match of exposed bone, falling flesh, and the most adorable cape it wasn’t the easiest to tell —  the opportunity to adjust to the instability of the sand between his barely-there paws. and maybe enjoy a bit of stormy weather, even. she hadn’t expected to find anyone else lurking about at so late an hour, particularly anyone in the realm of vague acquaintanceship. well, she supposed it wasn’t the worst thing. a bit more company. and the story does grab her enough to be almost worthwhile, this lovely idea of humanity holding to the belief of true love’s kiss and happiness and light. they weren’t all things she had much in common with lately, of course, but what an intriguing thought all the same. 

a warmer expression greets the familiar young girl as she rounds out her theory and list of wonders, laela joining in entirely uninvited some time ago and merely tagging along for their stroll in the sand with her ghoulish pup dallying about someplace. “oh kitten, never fret. there’s magic absolutely everywhere, you know. how else do you suppose humans get that marvelous little twinkle in their eye?” it isn’t an appeasing nature she adopts for the sake of the other’s peace of mind; that’d be foolish to consider. that said, it might easily be interpreted as such and she could see how it could be confusing. she’d make little effort to correct unless asked, of course. 

no, the woman merely spoke from her experience, a culmination of her own understanding of things. humans were without a sliver of doubt, entirely remarkable. “as for the rocks, be practical now. you’ll sooner need a weather balloon.”

Practicality was for businesswomen in pantsuits and pearls, not young daydreamers digging red-painted toes into lavender sands. Her natural, vivacious aura dimmed like an ember losing its glow as her shoulders slumped and she looked down. Dot's moods were quick to change, just as her heart was quick to crush. “The practical answer would be a reflection of light,” she said. “Even someone non-human could get that kinda twinkle.”

The young woman sulks until the rolling and romping of Laela’s dog grabs her attention. Dot didn’t mind the mongrel’s state. As far as she could remember -- which, wasn’t very far given her circumstances -- she’d never particularly minded the facts of life that caused weaker stomachs to churn. Centipedes? She’d hold them in her hand. Mold? She literally ate that for breakfast. Dust, cobwebs, and dirt? In all honesty, she thought sunlight shining through an old attic made it all look magic. 

“Did you make him?” she asked. “Your dog, I mean.” She thought that if Gilbert were there, one glance at the ghoulish puppy’s exposed bones would cause him to lose his lunch. Dot was certain of the fact; she’d seen the sheen of cold sweat on his brow when Scout busted her arm on the playground, wound it around like a windmill, and snapped everything back into place. “He’s like, so cute,” she said. “You ever see Frankenweenie? If Hollywood makes a live action version, he wouldn’t need no make-up or prosthesis or anything to play the part.”

[prettyamanita]

rohancism‌:

Rohan yelped as the sudden fungal manifestations caused him to propel into the air. The cushioned landing was something, at least. “I am freaking out, I am freaking out!” His grip on the toadstool was WHITE-KNUCKLED, as Rohan could not, at present, figure out what was currently threat to him. At this point, he would be beyond grateful if a luminescent tunnel were to suddenly cast him in its centre. Beam me up, Scotty! Rohan would wiggle his fingers as he bid her farewell, feigning sadness to the mushroom magician as extra-terrestrials awaited him, blinking with their three eyes at the exciting prospect of having a new human experiment.

Aliens, come and take him HOME. In his panic, he took a moment to breathe.  “So, you’re like… one of those people they talk about on the television,” He looked around abruptly, before leaning forward and lowering his voice to a whisper. “A mutant?” Rohan’s heart was beating furiously in his chest, and if anything, the person before him presented more of a danger to him than the thugs that rubbed their gross eyeball juice all over his apartment door peep-hole did. “Listen, I may be up to my neck in debt, but I think I can um, handle it, y’know? I’ll change my address. Invest in a wig. You do not need to help me.” Rohan held up his hands suddenly, intending to backtrack. “I’m grateful though! I mean, wow, what a trooper!” 

( Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me. )

The night’s humidity made most civilians wilt with lethargy, yet it was the perfect condition for her mutation to reach its peak. She wanted to take advantage of her powers while she could; in a handful of weeks, they would approach summertime’s sunset and enter the dawn of autumn. And the cold, dry atmosphere of the fall months made it difficult for her excel at her “work”.  

“What good is a wig gonna do for ya when you’re wearing cement shoes, huh?” she huffed. “You really think they’re not gonna hunt you down? Sink you off the coast of Larimar Beach? Come on, I’m trying to be the Fairy Godmother to your Cinderella! It’s not every day you get offered security from a professional.”

Where was Gilbert when she needed him? In situations like these, he was the charm and she was the muscle. Dot gripped the sturdy, lace-like fungus making up the ropes of her swing and pouted. Another tendril of veiled lady extended from underneath the seat of her swing, wrapping itself around each of the edges for form a generous loop. The masked villainess lowered herself onto the ribbon as though it were aerial silks. It supported her lower back as she dangled, a single spore-ridden rope wrapped around her right leg the only thing separating her from plummeting to the streets below. 

“And I’m not a mutant,” she added. “I’m a magical girl.” 

[screamingfemale-blog]

Visit Original Link

Lesley Gore | You Don’t Own Me

[prettyamanita]

🎶 And please, when I go out with you Don't put me on display  ‘Cause you don’t own me Don’t try to change me in any way  You don’t own me Don’t tie me down ‘cause I’d never stay I don’t tell you what to say I don’t tell you what to do So just let me be myself That’s all I ask of you! I’m young and I love to be young I’m free and I love to be free To live my life the way I want To say and do whatever I please!

[prettyamanita]

xsvervn‌:

Saeran’s eyes had gone wide as they watched the other react, and they genuinely wanted to hide behind Salem as the other struck their pose. It mostly came from surprise at being directly acknowledged, especially in a form that left them pretty exposed— no mask, no way to sheild themselves from wandering eyes, and yes this person was likely someone that they worked with, if not a very confused advicary, but it still did nothing for the twisting of nerves in their stomach.

“Ah,” they opened their mouth, words caught in their throat for a moment as one hand went up as if to mirror the others pose. “At ease, Sailor scout, Alucard in the… ‘undead’ flesh.” The young vampire slowly pushed themselves up and into a standing position, being careful not to make any excessive movements for fear of the moldy aura that encased her fingers… and that’s when it hit them. Mold. Sailor scout. “Dot?” Came a slightly confused voice, just a touch pitcher than their usual low and soft tone.

Spores swirled at her fingertips, weaving between each tapered digit as she awaited an answer. So, this was the team’s bloodthirsty vampire? Pleased with their answer, she dropped the spores to her sleeves. The villainess was often glimmering from the mica-like particles, which stuck to her dark locks and long lashes for an ethereal effect. Dottie had more leeway with her powers during humid months; she could afford to tamper with vain things like the aesthetic of her mutation without tiring herself out. It was when the weather turned dry that she needed to conserve energy, and thus the truth about the ugly nature of her mutation revealed itself to the world.

Dot gave a quick, cheerful wave to the vampire and broke into a big grin. “Hi, Aloe~!” The unmasked villainess stooped down to collect the fallen groceries. “I’m glad we don’t have to fight,” she said. “You’re like, so much fun in the group chat! So, whatcha doing rolling around on the floor? Collecting dust bunnies?”  

[prettyamanita]

cuspx‌:

she took a step forward, the words of the other being a clear indication that she wasn’t only thinking out loud, but valued the opinion of another. and while giving her own thoughts wouldn’t exactly settle Dot, Go thought it best to try and remain positive.

because in her opinion, it was a sign that the times could only get worse. the struggle of enduring an ongoing  battle with the Doves, the Sector and the Mayor, however couldn’t be shown on her face. despite having dropping by a beach for solace before her next big mission–– which stirred a lot of nervousness in the pit of her stomach. the violet sands had always settled her biggest concerns, worries, and anxiety. 

“I believe in magic.”

she nodded. “But I tend to think it’s in the goodness of our hearts, it’s just hidden sometimes. Sometimes it’s too dark to see the light, but there is a light that never goes out.”

she watched the parasol twirl in the wind. it was a pretty sight, causing a rather magical smile on her lips to form. it overruled the temporary fret that might have been seen as Go spoke the loudest with her expressions.

“Sinister is right. But I don’t think it makes us naive. We should be allowed to feel hopeful–– “ she thought it best to entertain the notion, for a bit, “If you could fly away, where’s the one place you’d fly to?”

“In our hearts?" she repeated, sighing. “When you say it like that, it sounds like a lesson from a movie for little kids. I was hoping magic would be a little more tangible, you know? Something that exists outside of dreams, something that’s not just a metaphor, something that’s...real life magic that I can hold in my hands!”

Dot knew that through the ever-watchful eyes of Crystalline, whether they took the form of security cameras installed on every block or curious civilians with faces pressed against subway windows, that she was the sinister development. She was a criminal, a mutant, and more notoriously: a villain. Yet, she never considered herself anything but a hero. The League may have been heroes by name, but she and the other ragtag rejects of the Syndicate weren’t afraid to get their hands dirty for the greater good. The stealing, the blackmailing, the fighting, the killing -- they were all her burden to carry so the common-man could sleep at ease.

Or rather, it was Amanita’s burden. She did her best to mentally separate her two lives; one never knew when the Doves would capture you, throw you in the back of a van, and unmask you before a mob of leering scientists. If Gilbert -- her Gilbert, who planned everything down to the millisecond -- had it happen to him, then she didn’t have high hopes for herself. The worried expression on Go’s face certainly didn’t help put her at ease either. 

“The destination doesn’t matter,” she said, softly. “I’d go anywhere if it meant I’d know what it feels like. Don’t you feel the same way?” A strong gust of summertime wind, picking up the scent of salt water and the scratchy prickles of wayward sand, tugged on her parasol. Without thinking, the lace-like lattice of the veiled lady’s fungus wrapped around her wrist and handle of the parasol. She was upset and when she was upset, her mutation seemed to have a mind of her own.

[prettyamanita]

Episode 006: “ Mr. Sandman, Give Me a Dream !!! ” | @greyxw

                                            sometimes, they shared dreams.  Going through the tunnel was like taking a stroll through a kaleidoscope; shimmering, neon gems reflecting colors that only exist in dreams lit the way. She knew she’d traveled far enough when she reached that tall and opaque curtain they both called The Veil. “Yoohoo, Mr. Dreamboat?” she said. “You sitting on the other side, yet? The main attraction’s finally arrived!” However, the young woman’s playful teasing seemed unusually halfhearted that night. Dot knelt before the curtain, crossed her Sailor Moon pajama-clad arms, and sighed. 

“I broke up with my boyfriend,” she said.

He had, in fact, dumped her. But she’d sooner throw her official heart compact collection into a bonfire than admit that.

“Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to date a Dove after all.”

[prettyamanita]

latorre-x‌:

@EVERYONE&ANYONE@GLORYHQS || Like a hurt lost and blinded fool

Judas needed air. ––Max needed air. it seemed as if his entire family needed the breathing room. with his daughter not speaking to him, his mother offering glares every time he showed his face, and his son, a bumbling ball of energy, Judas made the executive decision to have a boy’s day with the ten-year-old.  “Max––!” he called after the boy as his son tugged on his hand a little too hard with enthusiasm. “Maximiliano Deigo––”

a breathless huff fell from his lips as Max released the grip of his hand. typically when Judas’s mother used the string of her grandson’s name, Max’s behavior could be somewhat corrected.  these days, it seemed as if the boy’s ears fell off entirely. though the more logical option was that Max had no time to listen to his father. it was debatable, if he’d ever really listened to him, the past two years were a dizzy haze and the sounds of Minan’s voice were slowly becoming unaccounted for. he had no proof that he was ever the father his children needed. with his wife gone, with his other half missing, with his partner presumably dead, he’d lost sight of nearly everything good in his life. 

the man watched, eyes glued on the boy as he ran straight for the monkey bars of the park. of course, Max would go straight for the highest part of the play palace. with his arms folded across his chest, a bench in his peripherals and the sole focus on his son, Judas didn’t mean to bump into the knee of the other who was sitting quietly. it wasn’t a harsh graze, nor a friendly one. it was a stranger bump™, one he was trying his best to apologize for.

“I-I’m so sorry.” he nervously chuckled, “Forgive me, I’m–”

he took a side step once more to call after the boy, “Max not too high!!”

he shook his head at his worries, though they didn’t entirely seem to go away. “I’m two seconds away from a heart attack. That– or a new layer of grey hair.”

Dottie graciously offered a closed, ruby-painted smile at his apology and was prepared to think nothing more of it. But, hearing the nervous edge to the man’s voice had her reconsider. “Kids these days got playgrounds with like, bouncy foundations made up of rubber tires and stuff,” she said. “Be honest: do I look tough to you? If someone like me survived falling off the monkey bars into gravel and wood chips, then they’ll be just fine. Don’t worry yourself sick, mister!”

Leaned against her was a red-and-gold canvas bag filled to the brim with magazines of the decadent variety: Cosmopolitan, Glamour, Vanity Fair, and Allure. And mixed between all the glamorous and glossy covers, there were a few quarterly issues of a mycology magazine charmingly named FUNGI Mag.

“Kids are stronger than we think,” she said. She looked down at the Marie Claire fashion spread in her hands, licked her fingertip, and turned the page of her magazine. Syndicate missions and meetings had taken up so much of her life, she spent more time living as a villain than the woman behind the mask. As such, she’d amassed quite a backlog of “fun reading” she’d meant to comb through but never did. 

“Anyway, which one’s yours?” she asked. “I’m babysitting my niece today. Little Miss Strawberry Helmet is hiding inside the tubes and doesn’t want to come out. I’m prepared to wait her out -- she might need goldfish crackers and juice boxes to survive, but all I need to keep going is a good magazine.” 

[prettyamanita]

margotdayal‌:

Margot loved her wife. And she loved her kids. Silence became a rare occurrence with two young children. When they were quiet, that usually meant that something no good was happening right under her nose. But the Dove incident, and now her children safely tucked away with her aunt…Margot should have enjoyed the silence while she still had it. Instead, she decided that she hated it. She needed a break from that quiet house, time to stare up at the stars, which was how Margot arrived at the beach with a familiar face.

“I think you’d have to have a really big parasol for that to happen,” Margot answered with a nod. “Have you ever seen those boats that pul people behind them and they use a giant parachute to catch air? You’d have to get some sort of momentum, first,” She nodded. Though, perhaps, this wasn’t what Dot had really been asking for.

“No, I don’t think that makes you naive at all. In fact, I think this world could use a little bit more faith in magic,” She firmly shook her head. Margot knew others who believed that magic would always be whatever science couldn’t yet explain. Margot, however, didn’t see why both couldn’t exist. “Besides…who would want to live in a world without magic?” She asked. “I’m sure there’s someone out there who’s learned how to fly with their umbrella by now. In fact, I think I’d be more surprised if there wasn’t.”

“Why do you care about me so much, Mrs. Dayal?” she asked, softly. “You’ve gotta know by now that I’m not like you.” Dark eyes focused on the waves crashing onto shore, unable to return Margot’s gaze after such kind words. Dottie didn’t feel like she’d ever had female role models -- well, of the three-dimensional and non-cartoon variety -- apart from Margot. “Good, I mean,” she said. “You’ve gotta know by now that I’m bad, and that it’s not all Gilbert’s fault either.”

A powerful gust of wind fights for control of her parasol, flipping it inside-out and causing the handle to slip out of her grasp. Dottie’s first instinct was to use her abilities. Long, painted fingernails glimmered in the moonlight as she lifted her hands overhead, hoping to stop her umbrella to make it too far down along the beach with a barricade of mushrooms. But, the dryness in the ground prevented her from doing more than sprouting a handful of half-dead toadstools on soggy litter abandoned along the shore. 

“You’re just saying all that sweet stuff to make me feel better,” she sighed. “But, what’s the point? I’m overdue for a wake-up call.” She took a few small steps forward, planning to retrieve her broken parasol from the waters.   

[prettyamanita]

Episode 005: "Dirty Dealings in the Moonlight !!!" | @xbvmbi​

“Oh, are these your boys?” she asked. The location of the arms dealing was in shambles, both the suppliers and buyers in unconscious heaps on the floor. Some appeared to sleep peacefully, some had scarlet stains on their shirts, and others gurgled as foam bubbled from their lips. A small, red bruise marred her own cheek from when she’d failed to block a punch, but that was as bad as her injuries were. There had been others, who had arrived as “entertainment” or guests, and she’d released them unharmed. “If they are, you can have them back,” she said. “But, I’m leaving with all the party favors! Just look at these goodies!”

Gloved hands ran over the bags of weaponry, lithe fingers trembling in unbridled excitement. She laughed, dark eyes crinkling behind a scarlet, masquerade-style mask. Had she been sleeping lately? The answer was a firm: no. It wasn’t her fault that every dream of her’s was a disturbing, unsettling hodgepodge of violence and warnings. Dottie had told herself that the dreams were due to stress, to watching television too close to bedtime, to accidentally putting a weird combination of mushrooms in her morning spore smoothies. She’d reassured herself with every excuse under the sun to avoid examining those strange visions too deeply.

“Lucky me, huh?” she said. “I go out for a night of dancing, then end up as someone’s decoration to a weapon’s deal. I’m such a sucker for being told I’m pretty! So, are these sleeping beauties yours or are you just admiring the scenery?” 

[prettyamanita]

donniesm‌:

Fast food places had seen some sights in their time. Bottom of the barrel, absolute dregs of society that would stumble in, half-cut and half-dressed. As the clock struck midnight, Donnie certainly contributed to these low standards. His eyes carried bags so heavy that it forced his mouth open, making him appear gormless with his exhaustation. But above all, he was starving… and beyond HANGRY.  

Donnie’s tray clattered onto an empty table, and he delved straight in. Donnie was lost entirely to his meal until a respite beckoned, to which he met the stares of another patron. His brows furrowed, and his eyes narrowed with suspicion. Donnie has, and always will be, an extremely paranoid individual. “What?” Mouth full, he dropped his burger and opened his arms wide, immiediately jumping to his own defense. “If you want to take a picture, I can give you one worth taking.”

“You’d really do that for me?” she teased. Having ordered enough food to feed every member of the Syndicate -- including extra snacks accounting for spilled and spoiled food when they inevitably fight over fries -- she knew that she’d be waiting awhile. So rather than idly standing, she decided to take up the stranger’s offer. 

“Alright, show me what you’ve got,” she said. Dottie leaned back against the counter. One red, knee-length boot crossed in front of the other as she grinned. She lifted up her hands like a director would to frame an imaginary camera shot. “And don’t forget to smize.”