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A daughter Promise- Luthien & King Thingol A marriage that was almost to be. Before Beren"Tinuviel always had a wild, spirited heart and a vanguard soul that dreamed much bigger than the land she was born and the fire she would hold. " Thingol of his daughterIt was an early misty morn as the spirits from the night before still clung to the silver of the moon. The horizon was barely light as crimson, tangerines speckled in the lower parts of the sky but still laid blanketed under a velvety ebony loom. It was the night before that her father, King Thingol would enter the little elvens room with her mother drifting in the shadows, hands clasped in front of the hemming of her dress. She was always happy to see him and kneeled up all at once, a warm spill perching her red berry lips and a look of love gleaming in her almond violet eyes that you could never erase.He had informed her of a boy in the nearby village that would soon take his father's throne, his Papa was gravely ill, and their lands were not as protected or well known. Normally, he would never impose or ask his daughter for such a sacrifice. But he knew the family rather well and grew up with the boy's father in his younger days when sword play and riding horses were just a means for fun. Not such as now, when you raised a sword it was with a warrior's heart that strummed. Tinuviel began to fret as she swayed nervously over the bed and her eyes became the equivalent of drowning violets sinking in the rich dark sand.She knew what he would say as her heart and pulse quickened upon her ample breast, and her mother fell to her side at once, seeing her young daughter growing fear and fret. "But Papa, you promised me! When I was just a young child, that I would choose who I wed! Your only want and desire is that he be an elven from our village instead! I do not know this boy, nor heard of his name before you entered my room! How do I explain to my on heart and make sense to what I see as my impending doom! " Tears spilled over at once upon the bridge of her puffy reddening lips, and she poured into her mother's breast, sobbing as her small fingers tried to swipe them away between her squeaking, whimpered sorrowful fits- Thingol slowly approached his young daughter her raven locks covering her cheeks as cool and luminescence as snow and placed his large hand upon her shoulders, curling his fingers in her lush strands. "I know what I said my dear Luthien and you know I always hold to my words. I would never impose such an act upon you unless I thought happiness would one day fill your soul. Sometimes, as King, we must not just look at the path that is right ahead. We must be able to see across the miles and miles of lands beyond the stretch. I came to this news many days ago and was keeping it in counsel and my thoughts, "-nodding to her mother- "And it is not only my wish that you carry this burden but your mother's burning heart. " His words haunted her mind even though they were just now leaving his lips, and she looked at her mother between her thatchel of long dark strands, that covered and curtained the little elven where she was seeking solace from her father's gentle demand. "Mama, please, "-her lips began to quiver, and she had to swallow back her tears- "Tell me it is not true that you are in agreement with such a harsh deed for me to carry for the rest of my years?""I never wanted this, this title or crown or the bearings it would simply bring. I just want to live in happiness, peace Mama, and go to the forest and sing." Luthien then fell to her knee's slipping gently off the bed, her long flowing hushed blue chemise winged around her like an angel's delicate feathery breath and tugged upon her father's hem of his fitted elven pants- "Father, I never disobeyed or challenged a word you have ever held or said. You have trusted me more than some of your own counsel even at my tender age of seventeen, and had me listening in the shadows in state affairs on many occasions and seeking more so my words, thoughts instead." She gazed at the floor, tears spilling like ran and puddled in an almost half heart, and she could see her reflection looking back into her violet eyes and fleeting heart. All the dreams of travel, adventure's and a love that would consume her soul, she could see scattering away with parts of herself and rippling off her soul. "Please reconsider, do not make me do this, I beg you on this fated night. Even the stars outside have dimmed, hearing your words on this dreadful night. " Her own words weakened her as she slumped like a fading rose into the ground and her father knelt eye to eye with his daughter, placing the tip of his finger under her chin, so she would look into his dark eyes knowing the love he had- "I do not wish to ask you such a favor to see your sorrowful such as this, "-sighing shaking her head- "I only ask you consider my charge and at least met the boy instead? This I am willing to compromise as I remember the promise I had made, and I never fully go back on my words as I plan to take them all to my very grave." A tiny light, glimmer emerged in Luthien's gentle soul, and a smile placed upon her rosebud lips and eyes, and she held him deep in her arms. "Le hanna, Papa, thank you for this, I will follow you tomorrow to these lands, and meet the elven in question and see if I can look to him with a loving hand."The next morning she arose early, much earlier than her father had requested, and wearing nothing more than her chemise, gathered some herbs, spice and dotted her tiny fingers into the rich lush sand. She was wiling to at least try to have an open heart for her father's harsh request. But during the night as she slept, and dreamed it was the eyes, she would later come to know as Beren's she saw instead. They haunted her, the water oak tree depth and rich undertones of the earth. His skin would read like braille upon hers and his lips as plump as two shells. She even heard his heart pumping upon her sleepy sugar breathe and woke up gasping, panting and clutched her small hands over her heart knowing it was more than a dream, but her future love instead. Somewhere deep in the heart of Beren even though he did not know her or her lands. He must have felt a tugging, a tear across his fated seal. Luthien was so upset, moved, and didn't know what to make of such a vision. For she did not see elvish ears upon him or clear, pristine elven skin. So she took outside the palace in the barely light morning sky and swashed her tiny legs, and toes into the deepening streams in the back by the rose vines.It was a place she often came to in her deepening thoughts or hymns. When she felt she herself needed guidance in her young elven ways and whims. A lily pad shone like a speckled star along the diamond crusted waving stream, and she placed her offerings to Kementari, mother of the earth upon the cool waters of the stream. She almost lost concentration as a peculiar frog croaked and gazed his head to the side and being the young playful lass she was, she stuck out her tongue and gave him a fright. Gasping, placing the small of her hands, her tiny fingers splayed across her puffy lips- "Oh my, forgive me, I need not cause you a fright. It was you who interrupted me, you see, instead. I need to concentrate, my gurgling friend now go! Flicker! Hop away from my sight! I am in desperate need of guidance, you see, and I need not a soul in my sight. " -giggling, whispering- "Even a cute one like your Kermit!" -winks- Closing her eyes, the cool water hugged and kissed mistily over her thighs as she spoke gently to Kementari from her heart's flow with all she felt in her own- "I seek you Kementari, mother goddess in the visions I feel you brought. I have always been an obedient daughter and a faithful servant in my lands of Doriath. But my heart is heavy, my visions clouded, and it's a mortal that I see. Could I be wrong, mother goddess? Is this just my feverish soul curious of other kin and lands I wish to know and see?" When she finished, she took her finger and placed it on the tiny candle wick and, with all of her heart and pouring of soul, it was lite in almost a single breath. She pushed the lily pad away and into the deeper parts of the stream, in hopes her heart, her guidance would come before she made the trip with her father on his trusted steed.Her father was already up by the time she appeared back home and had a inquisitive, questionable look, gazing at his young daughter splashing in the doorway, her toes covered in sot and gook. "Luthien, "-her sighed and shook his head as his long fingers dragged across his face- "In all the years of being your father I learned never to ask about your state, "-chuckling- "Especially when you come through the doors when the morning star has not graced her petal glow and covers in dirt, soil rich deep in your toes!" -flares his hands in an almost gasping look- "I will not pretend to know what you're up to, but as I can see the gold ribbon below the horizon, if we do not leave in a few more minutes we will be late. I shall not lie! So go change my daughter and hurry, no fret! You future betrothed, he awaits!" Luthien nearly fell, stumbled forth as his words caused her heart to merely ache. But she did what she asked and changed right and quick, and they started their journey to the next village of kin, but as they drew closer, and she could see the peering purple sway of their elven crest from their ancestor's descent, her tiny legs began to shake, and she felt a quivering in her soul and the steed in which she was perched upon began to hiss in his horses grumbling tone. Suddenly and without much of a morning, the trusted mare turned away from the elven King and rode like fire, darting across the fields into valleys away from the sight of her father's screaming ring. Tinuviel laced her tiny fingers around the nape of the horsed lush mane and neck as she bounced hard up and down upon him. She nearly screeched from the pain it brought and began to weep and weep.It was a vast open field where great ents stood curtaining over the mossy boulders and emerald strands below. Tiny animals of all kinds fluttered, hoped, all around her as if they knew. Bee's and dragon flies caught the glint of the sun as it sparkled through the ribbon of branches above, and the tussling of leaves played in chorus simmering the heart of both elven and horse. The horse took to his knee's knowing the tiny elven could not venture off of him alone as she slid down the edges of his neck lie a stairwell, and he hissed as her dainty feet touched the velvety grass. The valley was beautiful, pulled someplace from deep in her dreams as spirits in the form of ivory vapors danced between the shadows and tree's. Luthien, giggled and spun in circles and placed her crown upon the ground and in the distance she could see a glowing vine caged in front of a bark rooted in the ground. As she approached she angled her cherub face and her eyes burned curiously, violet hues swept away in a storm, swirling in her wishes and answers in the form of butterflies caged near the treeButterflies she was taught as a child from her mother Melian were the spirits of fairies who passed to other realms. The butterflies would carry their souls to the next as their lives here withered into the ground. Like all life, nothing truly dies that ever truly lived and upon their wings answers were engraved by the very hands of Kementari it was said. Luthien's heart fluttered faster and as bright as the colours on their silvery backs, and knelt besides the tiny cage and unhitched the little clasp. They sparkled flew and kissed along her cheeks, causing quite a stir as she giggled and watched them rise high above the branches and the tallest of the ents they held. Her eyes were wide and shone in a violet haze shimmering in a thousand stars for she knew her wishes, prays had been answered by the mother goddess to have taken such a form. Luthien then stood up and dusted off her garnet gown her father had asked her to wear, and approached Midnight, the trusted steed that brought her to this forest depth. "You knew, didn't you?" She mused in awe and feed him a sugar cube she always kept in her pockets, for it wasn't just the horses that ravished in such treats but also the sweet pallet of the elvens heart."We must return home Midnight." she spoke gently his very name as he bent his head to the ground once more and allowed her to climb upon her stoic frame. When she returned home, she shivered in fear, worried to seeing disappointment in her father's eyes. But as she entered their palace once more, he was standing in the center of the room with his arms opened, drizzled in such warmth. Luthien, whimpered, sprinted, ran across the room into her father's arms and his heavy hand sprinkled upon her like moon beams grazing over her lush dark woven strands. He could feel her trembled heart fluttering even through the layers of her garments, so he spoke gently to his daughter in velvety breaths to soothe her young fretting heart. " I was upset, my dear daughter, at first when I trampled like fire through these doors. But your mother came out of her shadows with such delicacy, and wisdom in her voice. She told me she saw you in the early morning hours and in the stream knee-deep, and she knew it was the counsel of goddess mother you were seeking and could see the sincerity in your depth. " He pulled her out of his arms and chest and wiped away the tears spilling from her eyes- "You see, Luthien I cannot argue with the wisdom of the heavens abide. So I will not force you into this marriage, arrangement, but I only ask you choose an elven man. This will please my heart, dear one, and it's the only thing I shall ask. " Luthien nodded and squeezed him tight before she ran off with newly tears formed, for she knew her visions were not of an elven man but a mortal who was spiriting in her heart...It was less than a mere month later that Tinuviel had to say goodbye to her brave knighted horse, and she felt utterly responsible because it was through her destiny his veins were spoiled. His heart gave out, and he took his last breaths under a wolves ivory moon and a dusting of stars, as she could see each one glimmer in his name from mother goddesses lips like a song. If only, if only she had been strong enough and told her father a clear no. Then perhaps Kementari wouldn't of had to have to steer the poor stud into the valleys beyond her father's hand. Tinuviel had the carpenters prepare the finest boat made from the sacred whispering willow behind their palace home, and as they laid his lifeless form over the wood, another steed was born. She placed her starry flowers that bloomed when she was born eighteens years prior and kissed for one last time his silken strands and sailed him away in the gentle moonlight. The elven archers raised their bows and gave him an honorable farewell. No one in their kin or even father truly understood why Luthien insisted on all this, even still. In her long tousle locks there is a thin braiding of hair that she cleverly laced and weaved with Midnight's in her silken flowing strands. When she would at last met and wed her love, she would cut a piece from her locks and braid it to his to keep him safe and Midnight's spirit would live on. 

Felix has no morals and boundaries. He is a sexual being and he loves sex with anyone and everyone. The boy was raised to be that way and use his sexuality and his beautiful looks for whatever he wanted. He knows it's dangerous but he don't care. He dies what he wants even if wrong .

Heather Stackhouse had once danced across the world's most illustrious stages, her movements as ethereal as moonlight on water. A former prima ballerina, she had been destined for greatness until a tragic night when her dreams and her career had come crashing down. The stage, once her sanctuary, had betrayed her, leaving her with scars both physical and emotional. Heather's parents, deeply concerned for her well-being, had sent her to Bon Temps, Louisiana, to oversee the estate of her late Uncle Bartlett. The small town offered solitude and healing, a place where she could mend the shattered pieces of her life. The once-renowned ballerina decided to stay in Bon Temps and share her love of dance by teaching ballet to the eager children of Shreveport. Her ballet studio, nestled among the bayous and moss-draped trees, became her refuge, a place where she poured her passion into nurturing the next generation of dancers. Her grace and kindness won the hearts of her young students, and they adored her, as did all the animals in the vicinity. To Heather, it seemed that the creatures of the bayou could sense her gentle soul, for they approached her without fear, forming an unspoken bond. However, Heather had always been fascinated by the mysteries that surrounded Bon Temps, particularly the creatures of the night—vampires. Her cousin, Sookie Stackhouse, had strictly forbidden her from venturing into Fangtasia, the infamous vampire bar in Shreveport. Sookie knew all too well the danger that lurked in the shadows of the supernatural world. One evening, as Heather sorted through her mail, a glossy flyer slipped into her hands. It advertised Fangtasia, and the allure of the forbidden drew her in like a moth to flame. Ignoring Sookie's stern warnings, she decided to explore the world that had captured her imagination for so long. As Heather entered Fangtasia, the air was thick with tension and desire. The patrons, with their otherworldly beauty, fascinated her, but she was careful to keep her true nature hidden. She couldn't help but feel a shiver of trepidation as she ventured deeper into the club.Then, a pair of icy blue eyes locked onto her, and her heart skipped a beat. It was Pam, Eric Northman's formidable progeny. The vampire's gaze was sharp and penetrating, and Heather felt like a rabbit caught in the glare of a hawk. Eric Northman, the enigmatic vampire sheriff of Area 5, was immediately aware of Heather's presence. His finely tuned senses picked up the faint scent of fairy blood that coursed through her veins, a fragrance that was both intoxicating and perilous. With deliberate grace, Eric rose from his throne and approached Heather. He was a striking figure, exuding power and allure. Heather's heart raced as he drew near. "Who are you?" Eric inquired, his voice as seductive as a siren's song. Heather tried to remain composed, even as her curiosity battled with her fear. "I'm Heather Stackhouse," she replied, her voice quivering. Eric's lips curled into a predatory smile. "A Stackhouse," he purred. "And what brings you to Fangtasia, Heather Stackhouse? It's not often we have visitors as intriguing as you." Heather hesitated but ultimately decided to reveal a fragment of her curiosity. "I... I've always been curious about the supernatural," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Eric's interest deepened as he detected her unique qualities. Her fairy blood held an allure, and little did he know her power was different than Sookie's. She had the ability calm werewolves and shifters with a touch. It was a talent that could be of great value in the world of vampires causing werewolves to shift back to weak humans. As Heather sat beside Eric at his throne, he decided to learn more about this captivating half-fairy who had dared to step into his domain. He entertained her with stories of his centuries-long existence, all the while concealing his growing fascination with her. Unbeknownst to Heather, Eric's curiosity went beyond mere conversation. As the night wore on, he decided to secretly follow her home, wanting to uncover more about the enigmatic woman who had dared to defy the warnings of her cousin, Sookie. Heather's world had become entangled with that of vampires, and little did she know that her life was about to take a perilous turn. Eric Northman, the ancient and inscrutable vampire, had set his sights on her, and their destinies were now inexorably linked in a dance of darkness and desire.

                                      The INN had grown far too noisy overnight as men from a nearby village took up residency as Beren and Tinuviel slept and the musky overbearing scent of cigars, spilled liqueur and sex filtered like a heavy sickening syrup in the air. Beren had been the only one who had awakened, hearing a sharp clanging of glass hitting the wooden floor in the tavern below their room, but felt his docile lass stirring like a rose in a winded stormy threat. Her puffy lips pouting, broken whimpers of a dove escaped her heart shaped petals as she curled up in his arms just as she did the first night in her homelands of Doriath. Memories of that enchanted night soon flushed away the noise brewing down below, an encounter that would change, shape both of their young lives and forever thread their lives in a way that would change their entire worlds."Beren, ?" Tinuviel's tiny gentle voice chimed through his thick thatch of hair, as her creamy fingers threaded between each one and her eyes widened half crescent moons glint with fear, hearing the chaos, hearty drunken chuckles and lasses giggling drunkenly below.In thoughts of their very first night, the comfort of the tree's, surrounding willows gentle shielding the two as they slept and mourning dove's, nightingale's singing gingerly above them as he held her so tightly, feeling the air in her tiny lungs fill with air as he laid mesmerized, and she clamored in his forest of branches upon his chest. Her elven ears kissed by the dapper moon, glistening like gleaming stars at the very tip. Even when his kin spoke ill of the elven Beren always felt a fascination draw to their kind. In his eyes, they seemed to be almost unearthly, gentle and at one in nature, as well deeply connected in their own hearts and minds.                    But as he grew up admiring the men in his village, his views became somewhat tampered until that fated day in the forest of Doriath, when he would encounter an elven with midnight snow flowing in her dark tresses and eyes as brightly light as the heavenly star and the colour of a fresh lilac bloom under a summer's kiss, radiant almond shape eyes. It's at that moment as his playful gaze met her own, so helpless, curious and frustrated all at once that the inquisitive boy he used to be was once more enchanted by her kind and wanted, needed to know more....               It felt like mere ages ago since their time in Doriath and his heart nearly broke thinking of the scattered sharp edges of memories, pages in between and as another glass thudded from the tavern below, he gathered Tinuviel who still was lost in her sleep up in a bunching of the surrounding sheets and his sheepskin tote still packed from a journey who needed to take hours before and snuck, crept down the wooden stairs of the Tavern being sure to hide in the shadows as he held her tightly, so close in his armsThe wooden stairs, flooring creaked like a whining child underneath Beren's heavy feet and the surrounding air stifled his broad nose thick in the musky scent of aged sex and smoke clouding his vision like jinns dancing mockingly around his soul. The same that rose from the looms of lust when one elven maiden was taken to the next. Beren could never deny the hunger of the wolf, his growl that would sometimes rise from the pit of his very throat as he would turn his vision away and dig the tips of his long, skilled huntsman fingers into the bark of a tree.White knuckles blaring glowing under his rough patchy skin like ghosts that haunted clouded his very mind. But he never gave in, never taken without consent, never tore away a young innocent flesh, unless she so wanted it. Even as he gazed upon his almond eye beauty now, his sleepy fluttering lids dusted in starlight and gold, he couldn't deny the simmer of the wolf, the bulge he felt whenever he held her near. The warm scent of summer rains in a bloom that scented the air from her long midnight locks. She was young, innocent, a barely blossomed rose still clinging to her dewy glaze and earthly scent. Her lips the colour of the rarest garnet, puffy, moist and filled with longing, a longing he would see, but she was always fearful to admit as she gazed upon the huntsman when she thought he wasn't paying much attention.But Beren was hyper aware, trained and skilled to sense the energies, shifting in the air just as he was now as he finally made his way to the bottom of the spiraling wooden staircase, like a vein leading into the bleeding sinful heart of the tavern below. His dark gaze scanned the room, not recognizing one dirt ridden face to the next, and them seemingly not recognizing him. Too preoccupied with one milky white breast to the next. Muffled groans and smeared rouge lips, with glistening, glamouring eyes held to the vixens, vipers of the establishment. Beren felt like a fool for seeking shelter in such a place. His angelic beauty, his eve in the garden of eden, placed in one valley of shadows to the next, the very pits of sin and brimstone and the reveal of the worst of men.The blue haze of dawn poured in from the dark curtain windows shrouding their wicked deeds and the crevice of the entrance way beneath the door a few feet away as Beren peppered a look of boredom, dominance on his rough, bristled chiseled face as a masking defense, and clung to his beauty buried beneath the clouding of sheets he held firmly in his arms. He could feel her body, shiver, tremble like a frightened dove hearing, feeling the warm bodies all around them as he coiled the tips of his fingers into her petite frame in his arms, to comfort and soothe her in her fret fearing she may whimper above the chaotic noises of the surrounding others, but he had no choice but to unhinge one of his large protective hands and push past the wooden doors leading to the outside and as he did, he could see, feel the cream of her succulent little fingers curl like kitty claws into the shallow of his chest.             "Shhh, my delicate fawn, we are almost safe." His voice, even in moments of utter despair, cast over her frightened mind and the quivering of her ample flesh as she buried her tiny button nose, pointy tips of her ears into his engulfing frame as he stepped out the door.The burn of the smoke shrouded the huntsman vision, making dawn appear like a stained-glass tapestry before his very eyes, painted strokes of bruised blues and apricots yawning over the frosted mountains, guardians of the surrounding lands that always held to a winter's kiss as he paused, stilled in its beauty. He could never deny how his heart beat in the echo of the misty mountains as the smoke, misted spirits poured into the surrounding valleys and lands below. It was kept his sanity, peace when the world around him held to none. It was his place of worship, the mountains the keepers of his chambered secrets and the darkest parts of his heart.As he stilled, Tinuviel nervously curled her dainty fingers around the sheets, her soft watery velvet eyes, wide and full of fright, peering at Beren from below. "Beren??" Her voice, delicate like shattered glass but filled with alarm in thoughts perhaps he changed his mind. Perhaps he felt she was far too much to risk. Beren stared into her fawning doe eyes and dared curl his large hand over her small one, squeezing it ever so lightly, feeling her fear, worry and could see the threat of tears piercing sharply in her tabernacle eyes, ones he could never harm, or turn away from even if it meant his very own life. "We are going to the mountains. We are going to make a home there, my beauty. Do not fret. I have helped taken from you the sanctuary of your home. Allow me to at least grant you another" A child-like smile graced the corner of her lips and glinted like fireflies in her young elvens eyes as she whimpered and nodded in response, then burrowed herself under the protection of the sheets once again.Even from beneath the warm clouding of sheets, she could smell the earthy, rich embracing air. The scent of morning blooms awakening under the hearty golden star as she yawned over the misty mountains Beren focused his vision upon the interwoven quilted valleys, streams and hugging lands that made up the landscape before them. Deep crimsons, periwinkles and burnt golds and rainbow fields of wild flowers that surrounded the shadowing of the INN. Such beauty, purity with a nugget of coal simmering in its mist.No. It was not Doriath, with her starry ivory flowers, or waterfalls that echoed and poured into the wells at the center of their village. Where every morning you were greeted by a hummingbird, bluebird or the nightingales that called her elven village their home too. But it was of Kementari, Queen of Middle Earth, where her birthing hands far reached beyond the soil below. Sprouting tree's, bushes and a shelter that would soon become a home for her and her love. Two different species, let alone battling kin's both delved in the heart, love of the forest and with each heavy step Beren took towards the stables, Tinuviel could feel the growing lightness, pulsing of her heart as the mountains called to their souls.          Travelling Home.... To Be Cont.  

From RP CHALLENGE to write a random story for a drabble:Bob thrown into the movie WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS In the heart of Bon Temps, where the supernatural was woven into the fabric of everyday life, there lived a rather unique character named Bob the Cat. While most knew him as the mysterious feline that frequented Merlotte's, Bob had a hidden side to him - he had a taste for the extraordinary, particularly when it came to seeking out the most elusive herb of all: vampire weed. One fateful evening, under the silver light of the full moon, Bob stealthily prowled through the dark woods of Bon Temps. His keen senses had led him to rumors of a secret patch of vampire weed hidden deep within the forest. Bob was determined to find it, for the allure of this supernatural herb was too tempting to resist. As Bob crept deeper into the woods, he discovered an eerie clearing. The scent of the vampire weed hung heavy in the air. It was here, amid the moonlight and the mystical aura of the place, that Bob found himself inexplicably pulled into a swirling vortex. When Bob finally landed on solid ground, he was in a peculiar basement that bore a striking resemblance to the lair of the vampires from the movie "What We Do in the Shadows." However, something was off. This wasn't Staten Island; it was New Zealand, and Bob was in for a bizarre adventure. A group of vampires, clad in an eccentric mix of gothic and Victorian attire, encircled Bob. Their leader, Viago, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Taika Waititi, stepped forward and curiously remarked, "Well, vhat do ve have here? A talking cat, it seems." Bob, despite his shock, cleared his throat in a cat-like manner and explained his plight. He recounted his quest for vampire weed and how he'd ended up in this surreal realm. The vampires exchanged bemused glances, intrigued by this curious feline visitor. Viago, always the hospitable vampire, decided to offer Bob a meal. He gestured towards the table, where a plate of spaghetti awaited. Bob stared at it, perplexed. "Vhat is it cat? Eat the Basghetti. I made for you!" Viago explained. Meanwhile, Vladislav, a vampire who bore an uncanny resemblance to Jemaine Clement, decided to showcase his shapeshifting skills. With a flourish, he attempted to transform into a cat. However, he ended up with the face his own face but the body of a black cat. The result was more comical than intimidating as he growled and hissed. As Bob tried to figure out the spaghetti conundrum and Vladislav struggled with his feline transformation, a loud commotion erupted from outside the basement. The basement door swung open, revealing a pack of rowdy werewolves led by their irritable alpha, Rhys. "Oi! What's all this, then?" Rhys, the leader, exclaimed. "Vampires and a talking cat in our territory? Insulting! This is unacceptable!" The vampires and werewolves had a love-hate relationship, and tensions ran high. Still, they knew they had to unite to help Bob return home. Rhys scolded his unruly pack after they started saying profanities, saying, "We're werewolves, not swearwolves!" With tensions simmering down, they concocted a plan to send Bob back to Bon Temps. The ingredients needed for the spell were a vial of vampire blood, a lock of werewolf fur, and the fang of a vampire bat. Bob, the vampires, and the werewolves embarked on a series of comical and perilous adventures, from infiltrating vampire mansions to calming down vampire bats. Along the way, they formed an unlikely bond. After gathering all the necessary ingredients, they reconvened in the basement. Viago, with a flair for the dramatic, mixed the potion. As it bubbled and glowed, Bob felt the vortex pulling him back home. With heartfelt farewells and promises to meet again someday, Bob the Cat was sucked back into Bon Temps, leaving behind the world of vampires and werewolves in New Zealand. Back at Merlotte's, Bob curled up on his favorite barstool, content with his adventure but grateful to be back in familiar territory. His head was filled with dreams of eccentric vampires, moody werewolves and vampire weed.

From RP CHALLENGE to write a random idea for a drabble:Bob thrown into the movie HOCUS POCUS In the small town of Bon Temps, Bob the Cat had become quite the adventurous feline. Known for his mysterious ways, he often roamed the town, seeking out unusual and interesting experiences. On this particular evening, Bob was on a mission, one that involved the pursuit of a unique plant he'd heard about from a passerby—a plant rumored to have some rather intriguing effects. Bob was in search of magical witch's weed. As he prowled through Bon Temps, Bob's keen senses led him to a seemingly abandoned old house tucked away in the woods. The rumors were true; this house was said to be the source of the mystical herb he sought. With feline curiosity piqued and determination in his eyes, Bob slipped through an open window and into the dimly lit interior. Inside, Bob found an assortment of peculiar plants, their fragrant aroma filling the air. Among them was the coveted weed he'd been searching for. Without hesitation, he pounced on it, intent on sampling the fabled herb. But as soon as he took a bite, a strange energy surged through his body. The room began to spin, and Bob felt himself being pulled into an otherworldly vortex of magic. Panic washed over him as he realized he was no longer in Bon Temps. When the whirlwind finally subsided, Bob landed with a thud on the cobblestone streets of a town that was entirely unfamiliar to him. He had been transported to Salem, Massachusetts, but not just any Salem. This was the Salem of the Sanderson Sisters, the infamous witches of "Hocus Pocus." Bob's feline instincts immediately sensed danger. The town was eerily decorated for Halloween, and the atmosphere crackled with a sinister magic. Just as he was getting his bearings, three witches appeared before him: Winifred, Sarah, and Mary Sanderson. "Well, what have we here?" Winifred cackled, her broomstick hovering ominously nearby. "A talking cat, dear sisters! And it appears he's traveled quite a distance." Bob, still feeling the effects of the weed he'd consumed, found himself unable to meow his way out of this predicament. The Sanderson Sisters were not the kind of witches to take kindly to intruders, especially ones who could speak. "Perhaps he can be of use in our grand Halloween night," Sarah suggested, her gaze fixed on Bob with unsettling fascination. Despite his altered state, Bob knew he had to find a way back to Bon Temps and out of the clutches of these witches. With a burst of feline agility, he darted away from the sisters and their cackling laughter, racing through the unfamiliar streets of Salem. As Bob weaved through the town's winding alleys and cobblestone pathways, he encountered other peculiar characters from the movie "Hocus Pocus," including a zombie, a talking cat named Thackery Binx, and a group of children dressed in Halloween costumes. With each encounter, Bob gathered bits of information about the Sanderson Sisters' plans and the magical world he now found himself in. With a growing sense of urgency and determination, Bob devised a plan to outsmart the Sanderson Sisters and break the spell that had brought him here. He would need the help of Thackery Binx, the talking cat, and the children who knew the witches' weaknesses from the movie. Together, they hatched a daring scheme to lure the sisters into a trap using their own magical spells against them. As the clock ticked down to Halloween night, Bob and his newfound allies faced off against the Sanderson Sisters in a magical showdown that would determine whether he could return to Bon Temps or be trapped in the world of "Hocus Pocus" forever. With wit, cunning, and a bit of luck, Bob and his unlikely team managed to defeat the witches and break the spell that had brought him to Salem. As the Sanderson Sisters were banished once more, Bob felt the magical vortex pulling him back to Bon Temps. With a mixture of relief and gratitude for the strange adventure he had undertaken, Bob the Cat landed safely in his familiar town, realizing that sometimes, a quest for the extraordinary could lead to an adventure of a lifetime. And although he never did find the weed he was initially seeking, he had certainly experienced a high like no other. 

From an RP Challenge: Was Given a Random Themeby people to Write a Drabble@devils_violinist Lestat chose "Back to the Future" Mallory had always been a woman of extraordinary powers, but nothing could have prepared her for the journey she was about to undertake. In the midst of the post-apocalyptic world, where chaos and despair reigned supreme, she had dared to cast a very dangerous and potentially deadly spell : Tempus Infinitum. With a small locket from the 1700s in her hand, she knew the time had come to use it. With an incantation known to only a handful of witches throughout history and all of them died trying it except for Mallory. Mallory activated the spell. The world around her dissolved into a swirling vortex of colors and lights. She felt herself being pulled through time and space, her very essence stretched to its limits. When the tumultuous journey ended, Mallory found herself standing in the midst of a bustling 18th-century street. She clutched the locket tightly in her hand, her mission clear—she needed to save the woman whose image was imprisoned within the delicate jewelry. As she wandered through the cobbled streets of the past, Mallory couldn't help but feel the weight of history pressing down on her. The woman in the locket, a captivating beauty from a bygone era, was in grave danger. Her name was Isabella, and she was destined for a tragic fate unless Mallory intervened. It was during her search for Isabella that Mallory first encountered him—an enigmatic figure, with mesmerizing eyes the color of amethysts and an aura of allure that was impossible to resist. His name was Lestat, and he was unlike anyone she had ever met. Lestat, a vampire with centuries of experience, was immediately captivated by Mallory's presence. He couldn't explain the overwhelming attraction he felt for this modern woman who had inexplicably appeared in his time. Their worlds collided, and as they spent more time together, the lines between love and duty became blurred. Mallory confided in Lestat about her mission to save Isabella, explaining that the fate of her own existence depended on the successful completion of this task. Lestat, though torn by his feelings for Mallory, recognized the importance of her mission and vowed to help her. Together, they embarked on a perilous journey to rescue Isabella from her impending doom. Their efforts were fraught with danger, and time itself seemed to conspire against them. Yet, with Mallory's magical abilities and Lestat's supernatural prowess, they managed to alter the course of history. As the timeline shifted, Mallory knew that her own existence was secure, but Lestat faced an agonizing decision. To maintain the stability of the altered timeline, he had to stay in the 1700s, unable to return to the post-apocalyptic world with Mallory. With tears in her eyes, Mallory bid farewell to Lestat, promising to find a way to bring him back to her time. As she activated the spell to return, she left behind the vampire who had risked everything for her. Back in the Outpost, Mallory was haunted by the memory of Lestat. She couldn't forget the depth of his love and desire, even though he remained in the past. And then, one fateful night, as she walked through the charred remnants of her world, she felt a presence behind her. There he stood, Lestat, still immortal, still enchanted by her. He had found a way to bridge the centuries, his love for her transcending time itself. With a heart full of longing, he confessed his desire for her, his devotion undying. Mallory, moved by his unwavering love and the sacrifices he had made, took his hand. Together, they faced the uncertain future, bound by a love that had defied time and fate. In the ashes of the apocalypse, their love story continued to unfold, a testament to the enduring power of love across the ages. 

Headcanon Felix is comfortable with his body and he thinks he's beautiful and not flawed and he will walk around naked and just not care who sees him . He believes clothes are restrictions and he wants to not have anything restrict him in his life and he always needs freedom even if he is from a wealthy family he craves that freedom.

name: tomie kawakamiface claim: chaerin lee.age: unknown. early to mid twenties.date of birth: unknownplace of birth: unknown.pronouns: she/hersexual orientation: heterosexual/aromanticlanguages spoken: japanese, french, englishnationality: japanesehair colour: blonde / black. eye colour: brown.height: 5'3"alcohol usage: occasionallypositive traits: .....hahaha.negative traits: manipulative, hedonistic, extremely selfish, jealous, sociopathic, psychopathic, scary. powers: source of obsession, super regeneration, immortal, immune to poison and acidsweakness: fire, photographsdislikes: being ignored, useless repetitions, taken men pursuing her, ugly people. ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶•︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶what is tomie? it is a difficult question. is she dead? is she alive? is she human? is she a demon? maybe a succubus? most certainly, tomie is a malevolent creature – it is believed she was not always so. though mean and at times even wicked, tomie was still able to feel even remorse for the bad things she would do. unfortunately, after an incident that led her classmates to not only kill her, but dismember her and scatter her remains every here and there, what humanity she had was torn away from her. she feels nothing. she has become a regenerative entity with the unexplained ability to cause anyone – mostly men, but some women as well – to be instantly infatuated with her with such passion they would kill for her, or even kill her as a result of being unable to have her for themselves. every part of her, every piece of her, has regenerated tomies of their own from the moment she was brutally dismantled by her classmates to the now – even her hair could regenerate a new tomie, or even infect someone, turning them into another tomie – there are many tomies. the world will never be free of tomie. you have been warned.(⑅◞ ִ ◟⑅) · ˚ 𓈒 🎀 ྀི 🌸 ♡this account can and will contain themes that could be extremely triggering! such as, but not limited to: death, murder, blood/gore, possible drugs, occasional alcohol, torture, sex, extreme narcissism, body horror. alongside thoughts of: murder, pure hatred. 

For my amazing friend Adam Lambert In the bleak, post-apocalyptic world of Outpost 3, chaos was the norm, and the residents had learned to expect the unexpected. But nothing could have prepared them for the day Adam Lambert, the flamboyant celebrity, showed up at their door. As the heavy metal doors of Outpost 3 creaked open, revealing the dusty wasteland beyond, Mallory, with her hair in a tight high bun and glasses perched precariously on her nose, was going about her usual duties. She was a servant in the outpost. Little did she know that her own emotions were about to go on a rollercoaster ride of their own. A hush fell over the outpost as Adam Lambert, dressed in his signature outrageous attire and sporting a shock of jet-black hair, stepped inside. His glittering boots clacked against the cold, stone floor, and his mere presence seemed to defy the drabness of their underground existence. Flashing a dazzling smile that could rival the most radiant sun. "I've heard there's a party going on in this drab little bunker, and I've come to liven things up." Mallory, like the rest of the inhabitants, was instantly captivated by his presence. Her heart raced, and her emotions spiraled into a whirlwind. Unbeknownst to her, she was no ordinary servant. She was a witch, a powerful empath, and her emotions had the power to conjure magic. As her feelings of excitement and chaos surged, a surreal phenomenon unfolded. A swarm of radiant blue butterflies materialized out of thin air, swirling and fluttering around Mallory. They formed a dazzling halo of blue that danced with every one of her emotional beats. Mallory's eyes widened behind her crooked glasses as she beheld the enchanting spectacle she unwittingly created. Adam Lambert, oblivious to the supernatural spectacle unfolding before him, sashayed further into the outpost. Residents stared in disbelief, some reaching for their weapons, while others simply gawked at the celebrity intruder. As Adam reached the central gathering area, he couldn't help but notice the blue butterflies dancing around him. His eyes widened with delight, and he began to twirl and prance with them, as if choreographing an impromptu dance routine. Adam Lambert, ever the showman, couldn't resist the allure of the magical butterflies. He twirled and pranced, his glittering boots tapping in rhythm with their ethereal dance. "Oh, this is marvelous! I've always wanted to be part of a butterfly ballet!" As Adam continued to frolic with the butterflies, the entire outpost was swept up in a frenzy. Residents who had long forgotten how to smile now grinned from ear to ear, and the once-sterile halls echoed with laughter and jubilation. Adam, still twirling with the butterflies, laughed heartily. "This is the most fabulous thing that's happened to me since the apocalypse!" Meanwhile, Michael, the enigmatic leader of Outpost 3, descended from his chamber to investigate the commotion. His dark eyes locked onto Adam Lambert, and an idea began to form. A celebrity like him could bring attention and resources to their outpost. "Adam Lambert!" Michael declared, his authoritative tone cutting through the chaos. "I have a proposition for you. Would you be interested in an interview? We have a sanctuary, you see, and we could offer you a place in it." Adam, still in the midst of his butterfly waltz, paused and considered the offer. "Well, darlings, how could I resist such a tantalizing proposition?" The residents erupted into cheers as Adam agreed to the interview, and Michael's plans to use the celebrity's fame for the outpost's benefit began to take shape. As for Mallory, her emotions finally calmed, and the blue butterflies dissipated. She removed her crooked glasses and let her hair down from its high bun, still unaware of the true extent of her magical powers. In the midst of the post-apocalyptic chaos, Adam Lambert's unexpected arrival had brought excitement, chaos, and a glimmer of hope to Outpost 3. Little did they know that their encounter with the enigmatic celebrity and the unwitting witch with magical empathic powers would change their lives forever.

Name: RickMiddle: Benjamin Last: GrimesAge: 38 yrDOB: November 15thPOB: Georgia, USARace: HumanJob: Police Officer/Sheriff/Survivor Sexuality: BisexualStatus: Divorced. Height: 5ft 11inWeight: 160lbEyes: BlueHair: Dark BrownBody: Lean. Fit/Toned. Lite Skin. No Tattoos.Personality: Calm. Compassionate. Serious. Heroic. Kind. Friendly. Brave. Cautious.Bad Habits: Drinking.Good Habits: Caring for others.Bad Quality[s]: Anger. Reckless. Bossy.Good Quality[s]: Leadership. Crucial Thinker. Good Under Pressure. Honest. Strong-willed. Good Influencer. Fair Minded.Religion: Raised ChristianFavorite Color[s]: Dark Blue, Black, RedCity Boy or Country Boy: Country Boy Background:Rick Grimes was born in the countryside of northern Georgia. He moved to King County, Georgia several years later. He got married at nineteen to Lorie and eventually became a sheriff. After Carl Grimes was born things became a little difficult for him. Years later, Rick's best friend Shane slept with his wife twice and when he found this out he couldn't take it. Rick felt betrayed and got a divorce and stopped being friends with Shane. They still had to work together as partners on the job but Rick never thought of Shane as a brother again. He developed some trust issues and a drinking addiction during this difficult period of his life. Lorie and Rick are civil with each other since they have shared custody of their son Carl. Rick moved into his new house. Carl stayed with Lorie because of his school location. Soon after this there were talks of an deadly outbreak. Talks of people coming back alive once dead. It was a strange thing. Rick was injured in the line of duty, he got shot and was rushed to King County Hospital. Shane had saved him because he still cared about him in some way, even after his mistakes. Rick wakes up a few days later to find himself in Hell. The hospital looked as if it had been part of a horror film. There was a bloody mess everywhere he looked. People weren't around. King County seemed completely dead. He wasn't sure what to think. Carl and Lorie were missing. Even his ex-best friend Shane. Rick discovered they were missing when he went back to the original house where Lorie and Carl were still living. They weren't there to be found. They had evacuated with everyone else who was yet still alive. So his search for Lorie and Carl had begun. That is when he met a few survivors along the way. Becoming their leader within a short time. A new age of the world had started, one of which zombies existed![Note: This is just the main story behind my variant of Rick Grimes. But I am open to being flexible about all this where needed.] !

1x1 Smile Like A Rifle World to Explore: Nolanverse Harley had been counting down the days. They’d locked her away once they’d realised what she’d done. They had labelled it disgracing her name but the laughter on lips made it obvious she’d disagreed. If anything ?? She’d found herself, the taste of the metal bars on her door had become a sensation she was used to as no one dared to even push her food through the window as the last male who had tried had lost his finger in the process. They hadn’t believed that she would find a way to break out, but a bobby pin, a shoelace and a creative mind meant that anything was possible. He’d granted her the power to do what she wished with the luxury of not caring about the consequences. Such a mind was dangerous at the best of times, but in Gotham City, that mindset was lethal.The once young and inspiring Dr. Harleen Quinzel, the blonde haired blue-eyed bombshell of the therapy team at Arkham was no more. The madness infested her mind, and she had fallen hopelessly down the rabbit hole for him and she couldn’t wait for him to see it. First, though, she had to get out of the hellhole. Luckily, despite his escape the security routine hadn’t changed since her codes had been valid. Just a few sweet words and a promise of the world and had her main guard under her spell. It almost hurt, flirting with another but she was sure he’d understand — the guard couldn’t keep them apart for long and he simply wouldn’t be alive long enough to tell the tale. Her psychiatric training allowed her to spin a web of wonder and desire, warp the male’s mind into giving her a hand and soon enough she had her keys in hand.Just another weapon at her disposal as the door clicked open, at her request. She thanked him, pressing her lips to his cheek, printing a lipstick mark. A small distraction from the key jabbed straight into his eye, left hanging on the chain for good measure. Alarms echoed through the Asylum as Harley broke into a run, fighting her way out. It didn’t take much, they underestimated her. The petty little wannabe she’d been would never have thought to do this and they still thought that shrink of a girl was still locked away. With several bodies cascaded on the floor around her, Harley walked out of Arkham. Running her blood stained hand through her hair she caught her reflection in a smashed up car window. She barely recognised herself but the red looked good on her, and she reminded herself to sort herself out. She needed a new look to fit how she felt before greeting him once more on his grandest stage yet. Harley simply hoped she was a face he wanted to see.  ♢♦️♢ Heading back to her apartment, Harley knew there would be nothing there for her now. At least not in terms of possessions. A bright red lipstick and a barely used eyeliner were the only items Harley needed from that old life. The clothing was useless in it’s own right but the fabric itself had potential. She’d never attempted to sew her own clothes together but anything to raise attention to herself. Harley wanted her grand entrance to be by his side, not by robbing the local mall. It took time, a few tweaks and many try ons but eventually it was all in place. In front of the mirror, a red and black corset, and matching shorts that were probably too short from all the edits clung to every curve the female had. Black and red hockey socks just brushed her knees whilst mismatching two pairs of converse in her wardrobe finished off the look, alternating the red and black down to her feet. The dried blood still in her hair still needed attention, but using her own bathroom was too risky and so another plan came to mind. A quick shower, and a change back into some civilian clothing the blonde left her apartment for the last time.A handful of hair dyes and a few ideas in mind, a redundant public bathroom saw the birth of Harley Quinn. As the red and black hair dye ruined her bleach blonde she couldn’t help but laugh at her reflection. Harleen would have cried, questioned everything but Harley knew this was the right move to make. The clothes she’d made were taken out of the backpack she’d used and placed onto the side until the dye had settled and washed through. The bright red was striking but a complete contrast to the black on the other side. She swapped her clothes and dumped the backpack in the bathroom. A bright red lip, and she thought she was ready. One final glance in the reflection and her glasses didn’t match, didn’t work. She carefully swapped them out for her contacts, almost stinging her eyes as they were placed. Now she was definitely ready.   ♢♦️♢  She raced over just in time to hear his welcome speech. Harley listened carefully trying to shuffle her way through the crowd that had gathered. Unfortunately, this was too high profile to just kill them on sight now, plus they could always be useful in other ways. As she got closer the crowds dispersed.   “ Aww, ya makin’ a walkway for me, how kind of you mista’ !! ”   She took a step closer towards him, running her hand along his wrist, taking his Rolex as her prize, and a present for the Joker.Her heart was banging inside her chest as he came into view and he had certainly pulled out his best for is grand opening. She grinned at him with a small courtesy.   “ What d’ya think o’ the makeover puddin’ ?? ”   A little spin round and she was by his side, breathing him in once more.   “ It ain't too far is it ?? I just thought, well, I thought you’d like it more than the preppy little princess !! I gotcha a present !! ”   She dangled the golden Rolex in front of him in the hope that he’d be distracted by it if she wasn’t going to like his answers.

1x1 Robert Miller World to Explore: Not specified Although she hadn’t been violent herself growing up she had seen it out of the corners of her younger yes. The police had taken her father away when she was seven and she hadn’t seen him do anything wrong and why would the police take away a good guy? Of course she didn’t see his artistry when it came to conning the world out of money but to be arrested in front of her, and talked to for hours? Somehow she was able to just walk out of the precinct without being noticed and she had never seen him since. Those actions hadn’t made her crazy but it was just another stepping stone that lead to the production of the Harleycoaster, the deep dive that changed Harleen into the infamous Harley Quinn. Her face had been plastered across the Gotham Gazette more times than she could count. She stood out from the crowd, and eventually out the shadow of her partner in crime. She climbed the underworld, going from being his girl, to a force of her own. That was where she stood in Gotham City, and things were about to change.Harley had given herself the night off after a successful heist the day before but after hearing some drama going off on her streets? Now that was something she had to see. Her leisurely walk took off into a run but by the time she’d the few blocks all she saw was the bodies on the ground. Well, that was a strong word given the state of the crime scene. At first the only explanation she had was Joker but there was no calling card, and well, eye-removal wasn’t exactly his MO. Taking a few steps back from the scene, doing her best not to disturb it, she accidently created a trail of her boot prints as she had walked through a puddle of blood. Now she was in the sh*t for something that wasn’t even her. Her first thought was to run, but the second, and definitely the crazier plan, was to find the person that did so she wasn’t framed for their crime. This was too insane even for her, but if the shoe fitted, which it obviously did they would have her locked up anyway. Calling out to the shadows, she hoped the perpetrator hadn’t strayed too far. “Look Mista’ I ain’t exactly sure who you are, but this madness definitely implies Mista’ is at least the right ter to use. Maybe yas could come outta here an’ we can talk about this?? Maybe I’ll even help ya clear up the mess!! My track record is bad, but I don’t exactly think the pigs that run the city are gonna accept the ‘yes I killed many people before but these two bodies aren’t mine’ schtick so if ya help me outta this, I’ll help ya too. GCPD got a lot on their plate but a guy like yaself, threatenin’ the top dogs on the streets like this. Ya gonna be in big trouble if ya don’t have a hand on these streets already!! We ain’t like other cities, and you wouldn’t wanna see the welcome parade after doin’ this!!”

1x1 Rose the Hat World to Explore: Not specified Anyone outside of Gotham didn’t want to stay there longer than necessary. Unless you’d specifically chosen to move into Gotham there was nothing there for you except lies, deceit and a costumed crowd of criminals who could easily lead you astray. At one point Harley had been a fully fledged member, falling into the traps of a certain green-haired clown. It didn’t matter though. For now, at least, she was carving her own path away from him although granted he was never too far away. Then nothing was ever too far away in this city. She’d been enjoying herself, having a few drinks with her girl friends before spotting the reaction of a few men as they left the bar. Harley had known herself what a man on the hunt looked like, and she excused herself from her friends to follow. Dealing with many of the males in Gotham required back up and she didn’t know then, who they had spotted. Harley kept to the shadows as the men approached a woman the female didn’t recognise which was rare. Most people never stayed out late, alone in a city they didn’t know, and that was the safest idea in Gotham. Her voice sounded sweet, but she couldn’t explain the actions in front of her. Sure, that meant Harley didn’t have to get down and dirty herself but when someone just dropped to the ground like that Harley had to consider whether getting involved, or simply leaving her to it was the best course of action. After all, she didn’t fancy joining him in playing dead, if he was playing at all.It was impressive and it was that feeling which kept her gaze on the action. It seemed she wasn’t alone, so Harley didn’t feel the need to involve herself in that regard but a group of new people piqued her curiosity. There were already enough people on these streets and they didn’t need another gang trying to stake their claim in the city.“Well if violence was what ya lookin’ fer ya certainly in the right city!! Gotta say though, ya outfits don’t really match the vibe here. I’m Harley, Harley Quinn. Now I could helps yas out with that but I also don’t wanna get zapped, or whatever the hell happened there so please note I’m nice and friendly and only attack people when given reason to do so. So I wouldn’t give me a reason to use ya head a baseball. Okay?? Now what’s the sitch here ‘cause the streets are pretty busy so if ya gotta reason t’ be around I know this place?? Maybe I could help yas move right along as quickly as possible. ”

1x1 Christina Nickson World to Explore: Not specified Normal? That was just a setting on a dryer. Harley had never known normal, unless normal was having a favourite child, or having a parent in and out of prison like a yo-yo. She’d move from Brooklyn to Gotham City to study in the hopes that his ‘normal’ would come rushing her way but in Gotham City, normal was the last word on everyone’s lips. It had the ‘normal’ hustle and bustle of a city but it was always overshadowed by the obscene crime rates and tales of costumed crowds taken on my men in tights, wearing capes and masks for fun.  Screaming down the road was also a part of daily life in Gotham, especially on the east side, towards Crime Alley and then Arkham Asylum. Most of the time Harley buried her head into a hot dog or a burrito and simply carried on her day, she tackled crime at night, or at least the petty crimes that were trying to upstage her. There was no place for them, but in broad daylight it was different. Hoping someone else would help was however, resting heavily on her conscience so slowly she headed towards the screaming, keeping her plastic cup on her in the hope that the potential of throwing lemonade all over herself would stop her losing all her street credit by going into full hero-mode.As she turned the corner, however, it was clear to her that at least part of the problem had been dealt with, but Harley recognised exactly who ‘Mr. Problem’ was, or at least who he was working for. Whether she wanted to or not she had to intervene. Placing her cup carefully down on the ground, she took a few steps closer to the scene, pulling out her baseball bat from its holster on her back. “Ya ain’t from ‘round ‘ere are yas?” From the blonde hair with the pink and blue dip dye, to the red and black converse Harley stood out and grabbed attention when she wanted to. “ I mean, I’m presumin’ ya don’t know but here, in this place, clown masks ain’t just fer concealin’ identities. He’s one of the Joker’s guys an’ messin’ with the Joker’s landing yaself a world a pain if ya don’t know what yas dealin’ with. Ya better off takin’ him out, maybe not permanently but enough to strike fear that there’s someone else on these streets. Another Batfam rumour would keep ‘im on his toes, and I’d know a thing or two about his obsessions with Bats. Name’s Harley, Harley Quinn. Now, what d’ya wanna do?” She raised her eyebrow at the blonde, waiting for a response which would tell her her next move.