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id0what1want · 3 months

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What does Cereza look like and how tall is she compared to the other characters and pokemon (it feels weird calling them characters)

*me vibrating at the exact frequency required to shatter glass* yeah I can do that for you

(I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ASK (scroll to the end for some sketches of Cereza))

SO FOR STARTERS

Cereza is NOT tall, she's like maybe five feet somethin' short. She's Kieran's height during the Teal Mask and stays the same height forever. She does wear thick boots or sneakers all the time though in order to remedy this. Chunky soles are also good for traction and she climbs everything. She likes having stompers. Cereza seems taller than she is cuz she's all arms and legs, little gangly creature. She's also very sticklike, if you shook her she would make a rattling sound. All her muscle is very lean. Compact cryptid. I should clarify that I subscribe to the headcanon Kieran gets a growth spurt over the timeskip between the Teal Mask and the Indigo Disk. I think he shoots up to Amarys's height but still has issues with slouching so he might not seem like exactly the same height. Height is evidently in his genes if Carmine is any evidence. He's not done growing. (Cereza is pissed that she's not getting any taller and Kieran IS STILL GROWING) Cereza looks fucking hilarious next to all her huge freaking pokemon. Little creature next to big creature(s)

Cereza's hair is very specific in color and style in my brain. It's very wild and thick, as well as very long. It's the same consistency of a Hex Maniac's from the gen 6 games. Cereza's hair is ash blonde/white, exactly like the ash white option in game except the white streaks are even whiter (especially in the Indigo Disc, partially because fluorescents). It's very pale and muted, probably a shade lighter than the ash white in game depending on the lighting. Her hair is nigh constantly in low twintails that reach about her hips to maybe her thigh in length (it does grow over the timeskip, but it's so wild that it's kinda hard to notice especially since her bangs don't change). She will do little mini braids in her hair sometimes purely as a fidgeting habit to keep her hands busy or that piece of her hair isn't cooperating, and she wants it outta the way. Cereza's hair is the perfect length and consistency to play with and do things with. Lacey has to use every ounce of self-control in her body not to play with Cereza's hair. Deadeye has no such self-control and will bite at Cereza's hair all the time. Hair color refs!!

(DUDE THE IMAGES ARE SO BIG HOW DO I MAKE THEM SMALLER-) and also a hex maniac for hair texture reference

Moving on, Cereza's eyes are a darker red in Teal Mask, more discreet, but in the Indigo Disc they've gotten more saturated to the point of becoming a startling red. Her eyes are really big and round and sharp at the same time?? like they're round but her eyelines and eyelashes are pretty sharp. Her eyelashes are dark and pretty long. I would say her eyelashes are a dark DARK brown as opposed to black. Her eyes are very reminiscent of Briar's but a slightly different shape. Her pupils have a four-pointed star shape. This is not foreshadowing anything /lying

Cereza also has a beauty mark under each eye, perfectly identical and symmetric. (research says they're called tear moles, and they signify bad luck or hardship in life. It fits for plot reasons you'll see later lmao) She also has faint freckles all over, they're light enough that they aren't visible at a glance but you can see 'em if you squint. They would be more visible if she went out more during the day. Cryptid ass.

Posting this sketch is genuinely so scary like putting my own art on the internet? BLEGH. Giving people a visual of my own character? BLEGH.

Alright that's Cereza. Have some bonus sketches of the boys.

might transfer them to digital. idk. Anyway, thanks for staying this long!!!!!!

✨Do whatever you want forever✨

~ Cytoplasm

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dyrewrites · 1 month

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Before Deluca -- Vengeance, mon amour Pt.2 [end]

Part One

That sun was bruised and fading when at last we reached a tucked away clearing...and a house. It was not what I expected. To be fair, however, I didn't know what to expect.

Two stories of whitewashed bricks and gleaming windows stared at us, all of it pristine in every manner. From the meticulously tended rose bushes out front—rich and red—to the picket fence surrounding it. Not a blade of grass was out of place, not a speck of dirt muddied all that white. Even the door, tall and wide, was whiter than a nobleman's teeth. That house reeked of perfection, of rigidity, of obedience.

And I shuddered at the threshold.

Hand up to knock, but distinctly not moving to do so, Lucient warned, “Before we meet them, treasure, in my mind so easily, you must have seen their magic.”

Glancing behind us, around us, I marveled at how remote the house was—how removed from the colony it bordered more than lived in—and I grabbed his waist, “Flashes of your nightmares, my love, but not enough to understand.”

“And you wouldn’t have, even if you’d seen more,” tucking his parasol away, he set both hands on my face, “I know what they are, was told, but other mages are not as capable. I’ve never known how they could—”

“I am here, my love,” I told the jittering in his eyes, the shiver in his hands—gloves yet worn despite the evening dim, “whatever they do, you are not alone now.”

Looking first, checking for any that might be watching, he kissed me quick and soft and whispered, “My perfect treasure. Be cautious.” eyeing the door, he shuddered, “Anything could happen in there.”

Then he sighed and turned again to knock...and a slimmer hand than his grasped him through a door opened too quickly.

“Look, daddy,” the woman at the door cooed in a voice too low, too calm, and she was as pristine and white as the house. Save her black hair and lips red as the roses, “our boy's come home.”

No relation, I knew, had seen Lucient’s mother in his memories. I held more relation to his blood than the woman before us. His eyes twitched to me, the fear a confirmation if not the thoughts—muddying as they did in her presence.

“Good show, good show,” just as white, as meticulously groomed the man that joined her—hair as dark, eyes red as her lips—his voice deep and smooth, “we missed you at that little soiree, son. Glad you made it.”

All of me shuddered to see them, to be near them, but I couldn’t find words to speak. That man smiled at me, with his white picket teeth, and I couldn’t even scream. I stood, inert, while they pawed at Lucient. Touching, caressing, as one might a favored doll...

“And almost in time for your birthday,” the woman whispered, too close to his ear, mine that ear and it burned to see her so close, “we have such delights planned for your big day,” she was giddy, close to giggling as she took Lucient's other hand. His lips twitched, perhaps to speak, to scream, and she kissed them, “isn't that lovely, my little Ambroise?”

“Oui, maman,” Lucient responded without emotion, eyes placid, jaw slack.

But I had no chance to question the name, to react to the change, to move at all as daddy grabbed my arms with hands stronger than his lanky frame suggested possible. He clapped something heavy on my wrists after yanking me through the doorway. Burning but cold the shackles, and as I shook from whatever his presence did and made to bite, to curse, he stuffed cloth in my mouth. Acid that cloth, it had to be for how it boiled my tongue and blistered my gums—holy water, I would learn later—carrying more than pain.

It drained my vision, and my strength, but the man caught me as I collapsed.

His voice remained cordial and calm as he dragged me to a stuffed chair—white, too while, with swirls of gold—carefully sitting me in it, “Brought a friend too, didn't he, mother? Big boy this one.”

“That he is, daddy,” mother agreed and while she blurred in my sight I could make out Lucient behind her, walking so stilted to a matched white and gold couch, “you'll have some fun with him, won't you?” she asked daddy as she sat lengthwise on the couch. The white and gold dress she wore hung low and loose and she pulled it far too high on her bare thighs as she patted the cushion between them.

Lucient sat, obedient, expressionless—though the tears were clear, blurred vision be damned, I could see the pain in his eyes—as the woman took a hairbrush from the end table. While she removed his ribbon and began to brush, she cooed words too quiet for me to hear—but I knew them, from his nightmares I knew them, and what would follow.

But I had daddy to contend with. That foul cloth stealing much of my strength, I couldn't stop his hands from squeezing my arms or rubbing my chest through my jacket.

“You are a big one, aren't you, young man?” He asked what he touched—not me, me he did not look at.

Young man, boy, son, the words scraped at my thoughts, clawed with extra meaning I didn't want to find. But I ached to find Lucient, my love, what do I do, how do I help you? I begged him, so still and lost, too far for me to grab—to flee.

He didn’t answer, didn’t move, didn’t twitch even to look.

But the man on me did more, too much more. He looked at all of me he could, without removing my clothing—and I knew he would, eventually, were he not stopped. With rough hands under my sleeves, digging under my waistcoat and shirt, he touched what he could. Stole what he could.

While I tested the shackles on my wrists. They burned, but not so much as the silver blades had burned, and their pain was not near so much as shark teeth. I could take that pain, again and again, if it meant freeing Lucient from the horrors I knew near.

So distracted by me was the man, and the woman by Lucient, neither noticed the crack beyond my pained groaning for how it burned—a groan they swooned with.

The cloth I swallowed, figuring it less suspicious than spitting, and I regretted it immediately. Almost roaring with agony as it seared my insides, the man took my pain as invitation, noticed my cracked shackles and laughed.

“And what were we hoping for with this, hmm?” He whispered, slipping onto my lap. He broke the shackles clean off and tossed them—revealing bubbling flesh beneath, numbed as it was by the greater pain of the cloth. But those shackles he replaced with his own vice-like grip, forcing my hands to his waist, “Feisty one our boy brought, mother. He's trying to escape.”

“Oh, now that won't do,” the woman trilled, finished brushing Lucient's hair, she had one hand under his chin and another inside his breeches. As he whimpered, shifting away from her, she added, “will it, Ambroise?”

Eyes that had begun to focus lost it again, and he stiffened in her hold, unresponsive to the lips that stole the taste of his neck.

The man on me laughed again, but my eyes stayed on Lucient's. While the pain of what I swallowed remained, its effects were fading and I saw too clearly the agony in his eyes. My eyes, my love, being touched without his permission.

I would not allow anyone to steal what I had been so sweetly given.

The man on me miscalculated and didn't hear my growl—or thought me powerless—when he moved his hands to my shoulders. As he pulled himself up, and forced his tongue between my lips, his shocked cry was delicious. Yet the blood that poured from his tongue, sparking as it did—not near as bright as witchblood, that spark, but close—was not. Unique his blood, to all others I'd tasted—but sadly not all since.

Viscous on my tongue it came, not as blood but oil, as slime down my throat. Bile I had not tasted since my rebirth bubbled in that taste, acrid and sick inside me and I wanted it out. But hunger kept it in, demanded more, even as his salacious moans with my draw of it were echoed by the woman—mother—I held, I fed. When I could wring not another drop from his tongue, I tore into his throat.

Still he moaned, no screams, no pain. He seemed, in fact, to enjoy every second. Until he could enjoy nothing and I threw him on the floor…

But he didn't stay there as he should have, didn’t die.

He sat up, laughing, “My, my, my, you are a feisty one.” While I stood, fuming, confused, he spoke to the woman with Lucient, “Mother, do you see thi—”

I grabbed his head, hands as tight as I could grip on either side and I twisted and twisted until I heard his neck crack. Then I twisted more and more, the rip of skin heard—if only by me—and when it stopped I yanked straight up. Another crack, a snap and a meaty pop followed in quick succession before I held his head well away from his body.

All of the blood I’d swallowed, every drop I drained and still he had such to spare. A geyser of it, spraying my red silks ever redder and raining to stain all of the white around us.

And he laughed, again he laughed; a disembodied head with no lungs to feed him air and he laughed.

The woman laughed with, but she spoke as well, pulling from Lucient—both drenched in blood as I—she took the head from me and spoke to it, “You lost your head again, daddy.”

“I did at that, mother!” He laughed again, loud, guttural, yet mirthless.

Without her cooing, Lucient twitched, blinked and then he was on her, teeth buried deep in her neck.

She traded the head in her hands for the back of Lucient’s, moaning as she spoke, “Oh yes, honey, drink me dry.”

Lucient twitched again but didn't stop and as she made to move her hands to touch him—claim him—I took them. She gasped and grinned, with the heady power of his bite or my grip I don't know, but I hated it. Hated her smiling, her laughter, her possessive hands claiming a love that belonged to me and me alone.

So I broke her.

Twisting as I had the man's head, I spun her wrists until they crackled.

...and she laughed, the whole way through she laughed. I threw each of her hands to the floor, nothing more than broken bone and ragged flesh after my grip of them. Her wrists gushed thick and red as the man's neck and still, still she laughed.

Lucient turned her to face him then, silencing her laughter with his tongue between her lips and soon they gushed as well—pouring blood out of the shared corners of their mouths. It silenced nothing, she moaned with his bite, as the head on the floor laughed at the sight.

Pulling away, arms firm on mother, Lucient looked at me, silver-blue eyes so bright and wild in all the red that soaked him—us.

“Upstairs, there's a cage,” he instructed, voice stern but shaking as he threw her— laughing, wet as it was—over his shoulder.

I carried the separate parts of the man and followed, holding his head by the mouth to gag him—gagging myself with how his tongue played with my fingers.

When Lucient stopped at the cage, he stopped completely, refusing to touch it.

“If mother had her tongue, son, you'd be in that cage, bad boy that y—” That was my mistake, having grown disgusted by his slobbering, and I stuffed my hand back into the man’s mouth to stop more.

Lucient shook and I shoved the head under my arm, ignoring how it cackled, and opened the cage—small it was, fit for rabbits if anything. It stung my fingers as rough as the shackles but I didn't care. Tossing the head and fitting the body of the man in after, I took the woman from Lucient and stuffed her in with—certain they saw my grin at how I cracked and broke them to fit.

“Now what, my love,” I asked, after shutting the cage and locking it with the lock hung from its gate—a lock seemingly meant for a farmhouse.

“I don't, I—” He sputtered, staring at their twisted limbs and grinning faces.

The spark of his bloodied lips and the gentle grip of his hands on my face urged my kiss deeper before I led him out of the room—to let him breathe away from them—and asked, “I've not heard of mages, but aren’t witches burned in some places?”

His eyes jittered, widened and he jumped on me, smearing more of what drenched me with all his eager kisses, “My brilliant treasure. Sigils, on the stones in the kitchen. It's ever-burning fire if you say it right.”

“I'll fetch, you stay,” looking at the broken mess of bone and meat—poking from the cage I’d stuffed them so tight, yet still they giggled—I added, “right here.”

He nodded as he slid away and I rushed to find the stones.

Easy they were to locate, jet black with red symbols carved into them, sitting in a basket on the kitchen counter. I puffed at the sight—not quite laughing but close—as they were pristine, untouched by all the blood. I took the entire basket, although we wouldn’t end up using them all—a number of them would instead end up in my pockets.

Without a word, we surrounded the cage in the stones, setting a few inside. And I followed Lucient's lead, ensuring every single one we laid down touched another, tracing a path out into the hall.

Bending, he tapped that final stone and sneered, “brûlent éternellement,” before stepping into my waiting arms. The sigil sparked, popped and ignited before its fire spread to the next and the next, fanning out to combust every sigil until it reached those in the cage.

They didn't laugh.

They screamed.

Then they wailed and howled, voices gurgling as their throats melted, soaking the room with the stench of burning hair and cooking meat—and a sickly sweet undercurrent of what I would later learn was the marrow of their bones.

We walked out of the house, arm in arm, into a fresh evening—sun too low to bother Lucient, though he grabbed his parasol all the same.

Screaming men with buckets rushed passed us as we reached the other homes of the colony, chasing the smoke we left behind. And while the fire was trapped in its stone path, burning only what they touched, no water would snuff it.

It would burn. Forever.

We didn't run, didn't stop, we took our time; serenaded by crackling fire and terror. But in the screaming and rushing of crowds, I questioned our closeness, for how he fretted before, “What of not touching, lest people see?”

“Let them see,” Lucient said, voice distant until he shoved closer, keeping to thoughts, I need you close.

So I held him as tight as I could without disrupting our gait. While we ignored every shout, every question of the blood coating us, but none brandished the guns Lucient warned of—though I suspect many ran for them when they fled our sight.

Not until the docks did we stop, and all scattered as we did, eyes wide and fearful before they ran toward the shouts and the smoke.

And Lucient’s voice dripped more sorrow than the hollow expression on his face as he watched them, “They’re gone, no threat to me any longer, so,” turning that bloody face to me, cleaned as it was by streams of tears, he whimpered, “why does it still hurt?”

Unable to understand his pain, let alone the relief he longed for, I took his cheeks in my hands. Wiping what I could of his sorrow, I offered what I had, “I have no answers for you, my love, only comfort, only me...however you need me.”

Sniffling, he scooped me up too quickly, smile flashing—if for a second—at my shock before he ran us onto the ship…

#writeblr #snippet #writing #novel #before deluca #vengeance mon amour #tw: blood #like a lot of it #tw: sa #tw: suggestions of child abuse #and yes this is the last bit #two scenes in this chapter

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haruharuz · 2 years

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Fake it Until You Make It

We can all agree that appearance has a ton of value in society. Everyone hears "fake it till you make it" but no one tells you HOW. So here's some quick, easy budget tips. Am not affiliated with any brands.

Anything I say can be taken w a grain of salt. I'm not telling you what to do, only sharing what I do/what I will be doing.

Ballin on a Budget

For stronger nails get the super strength nail builder from la colors for 98¢ Stops nails from chipping, allows you to grow them.

LA colors polishes aren't the best but if you add two layers of a nude color, they work ! I danced in my heels for 7 hours with my toes painted (one coat) and it didn't chip at all.

If you can't afford acrylics but like the lookthe beetles gel polish set is great, but you need to take time to LEARN. Do be aware this is an investment so it costs more than the $2-3 for LA colors. My nails aren't strong enough for this again yet, but some tips:

→I don't use full coverage tips, I find it's harder to control the polish.

→I use a base gel as nail glue for tips, cure, and then use a base or builder gel to build an apex. This is KEY to nail strength

→ Wipe with alcohol before and after your base coat.

Walmart / Amazon hair tools will get the job done if used correctly. Here's a few I found :

→ Wave Maker : $25 I've used this myself, it's not the best but it does give pretty waves !! Be careful with the temperature though, section your hair, especially the top layer so it doesn't have big lines near the part.

→ Curling Wand: $20 I have this one as well. It's alright! Be careful not to burn your fingers. Fairly easy to use. Gives bigger/Loose curls.

Roll on wax is on Amazon, the entire kit is like $60 I believe but you can wax yourself at home. After that you just need to buy the papers & the wax refills. I've been meaning to try this, when I do I'll let you know how it goes.

Walmart has a toothbrush for like $10 that comes with multiple changes etc and it vibrates. I used that with a 3D whitening toothpaste and my teeth went 3-4 shades whiter in two to three weeks.

Bodycology toasted s'mores and chocolate smells like chocolate. It wears off fast, isn't great quality at ALL but I've had people compliment me over and over when I have the lotion etc on. It's like $4.

Dossier fragrances are dupes for luxury brands at $30 a pop. I'll be doing a haul of these as soon as I can so I'll update you.

SheIn clothing CAN be better than people expect. I've been complimented NUMEROUS times on a $10 dress. By customers, coworkers, strangers. Read the reviews. I post SheIn outfit ideas here.

Go to 5 below. Essential oil diffusers, heart shaped makeup mirrors, the works. Cheap as hell, too. Get some makeup sponges and stuff.

There's a $10 rainbow palette (not the one that expands, it's in a black flip top package) on Amazon I've been using for months. Pigment is okay, so is blending. Okay function for amazing price.

Wet n wild & elf brushes are A+ for like $1 a pop.

Elf primers (jelly pop and mint melt) are SO good. Do research on what kind of primer you might need as there's many different types

Listen, listen. Korean skincare is the best goddamn skincare out there. My acne scars are gone, my redness is down, my skin hardly breaks out. And it's budget friendly, as most of it is like $10-20

Alright now that... THAT is taken care of I'm going to work on part 2 of this, which will be focused on the body + diet stuff.

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hildagirl99 · 4 years

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The lovers of the night

Scarlett and Aaron

(part 5 and end)

"Did you like the holidays, Miss?" asks a client to Scarlett.

"I really needed it, and it did me good. I just have a few bloating but everything is fine." she replies.

"Bloating? You may have eaten something not very healthy."

"I tried the crab kebabs during this vacation. Maybe that's what's going on."

Suddenly, she puts a hand on her mouth.

"Mmh! Excuse me, I'm coming back." she said, running away.

She returns by being whiter than before.

"Oh, Scarlett, are you sure it's the crab skewers that make you feel that way?" said the customer, laughing.

"I don't know ... I should see a doctor." she replies.

"It's better for you. I wish you a good day and a good recovery." said the client as he left.

"Thanks ... you too."

She knew it was not indigestion, but the thought of being pregnant was running through her head. She had to find out, but she decided to tell Aaron. She heads to her office.

"You ... are you sure?" he asks.

"I don't know, I need to be reassured. If I'm not pregnant ... will you leave me?"

"Huh? Why are you saying that? I will stay with you no matter what! Pregnant or not."

"But if I'm pregnant, it won't go unnoticed. Everyone will wonder how did I manage to have a baby."

"I may have an idea, it will be a little sad, but it is the best solution to protect you and the baby." he said, taking her by the waist.

"Say it…"

"You will say that you met a man during the holidays, and after telling him that you were pregnant, he left without giving any news. And that I, the Sheriff, will help you."

She sighs at his proposal, it's sad when the truth is quite different.

"It is certainly a good idea, I have no other choice."

"Scarlett nothing will change what you say to the villagers and what we do together, I'll always be there for you and the baby."

"Aaron ..." she places her head against his chest.

"I accept ..." she replies.

Aaron strokes her hair.

"For the sake of our love."

"I'm going to the doctor, come see me tonight for the results."

"I won't fail, darling."

This evening, the verdict was final.

"So ?" Aaron asks impatiently.

"Well, although we did, and I missed my moons ... I have the symptoms of a pregnant woman. You're going to be a dad ..." said Scarlett.

Aaron holds his breath, not believing what he just heard. He throws himself in his arms, hugging her tightly.

"Oh god ... we're parents!" he wrote, tears in his eyes.

"Yes! I never thought I could carry my life ..."

"It was your will and our love that made you get pregnant. Isn't it wonderful?"

They cuddle in each other's arms, happier than ever.

9 months later, a little girl is born.

"She is really beautiful. The same features on your face." whispers Aaron, caressing the cheek of his child, still asleep.

"Aww, darling. Fortunately, everything went well." said Scarlett, still exhausted from childbirth efforts.

"What are we going to call her? Laura? Lorie? Charley?"

Suddenly, they both look at each other, sharing the same thought, they say.

"Lorelei!" they say at the same time.

"And Lorie will be her little nickname." adds Aaron.

He takes her delicately in his arms, little Lorie moaned like a little kitten.

"What are you going to do with her? I mean, tell her that you are the Sheriff?"

Aaron thought for a moment, looking at his daughter.

"No… I will remain his father, without revealing to him that I am the Sheriff. I will pose as a nomadic villager, without my star when I am with you two."

"And how long do you plan to play this role?" asks Scarlett.

"Until she is old enough to understand. Most of the Sheriffs who are victims of attacks are killed with their families. If something happens to me, you will be spared and safe, I want to protect you. The unscrupulous bandits don't hesitate to attack the Sheriff's family so that he leaves no descendants. Do you understand? "

"Aaron ... yes ... you say that like you're going to die tomorrow." answers Scarlett, worried.

"I will be ready to die for both of you. But don't worry, I'm not ready to go, I want to make the most of you and our daughter." said Aaron, kissing Scarlett.

And this is how Aaron led this double life, Sheriff and protector of the valley, father of a family and simple villager.

This love helped save her daughter from the terrible attack she was targeted 20 years later. Two months later, Scarlett was carried into the afterlife by the same assassin who attempted to kill her daughter. Today, the two lovers watch over their daughter, hoping soon that they will all be reunited, as before.

END

This is the past of Scarlett and Aaron, the parents of Lorelei Undertaker. I hope you enjoyed it ;)

Part 4:

#lorelei undertaker #my fanfiction #showdown bandit #showdown bandit oc #Aaron #Scarlett #Sheriff #miss undertaker

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