#why long if can be concise

[miserye]

i had ym meeting w my boss todya and i guess i followe d the firections weridly

[thereweredragonshere]

I don’t think words from any dialect will ever be able to accurately describe the feeling of when the anatomy of a human hand just clicks in your head

[arklay]

RESIDENT EVIL → THE WESKER FAMILY

To the public, little is known of the families behind some of the world’s most renowned bioterrorists, but the question remains: did they play a role in causing their children to walk down the path that they did? Or are these individuals simply ambitious criminals with delusions of grandeur?

For Diana Wesker (née Afanasyeva), her introduction into the bioweapons black market trade was upon discovering her employers were using her research into limb regeneration with salamanders to further their experiments in creating enhanced soldiers, instead of developing human therapies with which she was recruited for. Although the prospect of using biological weapons in the military did not appeal to her, the concept remained fascinating for her own selfish endeavours. Born on the 27th of October, 1963 in Sydney, Australia to Russian immigrant parents, Diana had harsh expectations placed upon her at a young age, ones that no matter how hard she tried she could never live up to. Her mother, Tatyana, was an unfeeling woman, absent for long stretches of time with little regard to how it affected her daughters, much more concerned with her craft as an accomplished opera singer. Viktor was no better. A strict man whose role as father and ballet master blurred, he pushed his girls to one day follow in his footsteps. Whilst Sofia enjoyed ballet, and went on to become a professional ballet dancer, Diana’s heart was set on going into the field of biology. She wished to make a name for herself, separate from her family – to which she succeeded.

Diana was married to former U.S. Marine, Dave Monroe, for only a year until he was declared dead in 1992 after succumbing to injuries sustained in a horrific car accident. Foul play was ruled out while Diana played the role of the grief-stricken widow, but in reality, she had snapped after years of mistreatment at her husband’s hands, and opted for something she could pass off as an accident to be free of him. For years she believed he was dead – and he was, legally – but that proved to not be the case when he found his way back into her life again in 1999. Unbeknownst to her, she had been lied to by the police and coroner, who were paid off by her employers when they took Dave’s body for themselves and used him as one of their first test subjects in developing supersoldiers. Before he could ever hurt her again, Diana’s second husband, Albert Wesker, tracked the man down, captured him and tortured him, before allowing Diana to get her violent and bloody revenge.

The origins of Albert Wesker’s involvement in bioterrorism, alongside his twin sister, Alex, are much different than that of Diana’s. The two hail from London, Canada, but unfortunately, they hold no memories of their lives there, nor what happened to their biological parents when they were eight years old. Agents of Oswell E. Spencer, an aristocratic billionaire and eugenicist, took the twins from their home and executed their parents as per Spencer’s orders. Albert and Alex were then placed in a home funded by the Spencer Foundation where they were given new names and a privileged upbringing. They had access to the best education possible, free to pursue whichever field they decided, but it was by no accident they both went into virology and bioengineering; at home, their adoptive parents – agents whom they believed to be their real parents – instilled them with the beliefs of Oswell E. Spencer, harbouring disdain for war and pestilence, and believing humans to be an evolutionary dead-end in need of a rebirth. They were only two of the hundreds of children “adopted” as part of what is known as Project W, a plan intended to develop an advanced race of human beings. The most promising candidates were headhunted by Umbrella Pharmaceuticals, the twins amongst them, where they went on to create bioweapons for the company founded by none other than the man who had handpicked them for his plan. The final stage of this was to infect the thirteen Spencer saw fit, however, only two survived; Albert received the intended effects, now possessing superhuman abilities, however, Alex was only offered more time to live due to her terminal degenerative illness.

In the summer of 1995, Diana was working undercover within Umbrella to gather development data on their projects for her company. Here, she had a chance encounter with Albert, an intelligence officer at the time, which permanently altered the course of her life. The two were never seen far from one another’s side, marrying in 1998, and they went on to become notorious in the bioweapons industry. The development of the Uroboros virus was where things took a turn for the worst. Although Diana’s infection was successful and she bore abilities that rivalled her husband’s, the plan itself did not succeed as they had hoped, and almost cost Albert his life at the hands of his former subordinates.

Now, they work within the shadows, with Diana declared missing and Albert believed to be dead. Their legacy, however, lives on with the mark they left on the world. As visionaries in their field, they influenced bioterror attacks carried out by countless individuals and organisations. In turn, they also inspired others to fight against such atrocities. One such person happens to be Albert’s son from a former relationship, Jake Müller, whose existence he was unaware of.

[shikai-the-storyteller]

There is truly nothing more exhilarating than rereading old fic notes and going "DAMN this is good."

(That, and also laughing out loud at your own jokes.)

[riarnu]

like i'm just saying if an employer uses discord instead of slack or just plain ol' email get tf out of there.......that's a theft of joy

[fruitageoforanges]

ughhhh. slogging my way through a fic chapter. drinking cocktails may be helping or hindering my writing/motivation

[typicalmagpie]

Chapter 3 is almost 10k words. Please, someone come and put me out of my misery.

[lilyinmysoul]

When The Night Ends

DarkJackson!Joel x F Reader

WC: 2k

Warnings: Smut, unprotected piv, somno (sorry not sorry), dubcon, dark Joel like I said, Joel is dominant, breeding kink, kinda forced breeding but she's into it, Joel palming himself

Note: This is based on a request I got, reblogs help so much. If you like it, tell me, so I can write more. If it's not your thing, shoot me a request so I know what is.

Joel isn’t sure how Jackson has so much damn alcohol, or where it all comes from, really. That hardly matters, though—all that matters is that it’s there, and he will drink it.

Regretfully, he couldn’t overdo it. He had patrols to go on, responsibilities to attend to—but nearly every Friday, without fail, he would take to the Tipsy Bison. Whether it be alone, with his brother, or the occasional patrol partner, he would be there.

You are, of course, aware of this. And even if you did have a say in the matter, it wouldn’t bother you much. There was a complete absence of a label regarding yours and Joel’s relationship; maybe it was because you both knew that he wasn’t cut out for such a role, or possibly how you knew that to bring it up would be to run the risk of disturbing a very concise system—his temper. Really, it appeared that you took what he gave you, and it seemed to be enough.

In any case, it is yet another Friday night. The double doors of the Tipsy Bison swing open, and the cool air on his skin mixes with the alcohol’s hazy embrace of his conscience, and Joel wants to see you. The winds are rough, hence why he is nearly the only man in the streets (paired with the time—it’s the dead of night). His brow furrows a bit harder when a man passes by with his son, and he begins his trek back to… wherever he finds himself. He’s too inebriated to make much sense of it. 

It had been too long, it appeared, since he’d seen you. You had noticed this too, and frankly, it seemed to be the nature of involving yourself with Joel Miller. As of late, he had increasingly withdrawn himself from your company; but tonight, he seemed emboldened in his sense of longing for you.

Although it is cold, the winter snow has since cleared, leaving only the occasional melting puddle of slush under his feet. Those same feet lead Joel all across town. He passes rows of closed up shops and blocks full of houses. Warm houses, he assumes. Houses occupied by families, maybe. Husbands, wives, children… alcohol makes him sentimental. Angry, even. He continues to trudge.

What’s interesting is that drinks seem to both aid and worsen the hole in Joel’s chest. They deliver some sort of tranquility, and also, a comparable and equally as intense sense of abhorrence. This isn’t something he contemplates as he nears his house, and when he sees it, he doesn’t slow. He continues to walk. After all, there isn’t much for him there; and so, his home is going, going, gone to a sea of other, almost identical ones. Ones with more to offer than a few half-built and boring guitars.

And when he arrives on your doorstep, it’s like second nature. He’s been here enough to know where you keep your spare key, but never long enough to find the one that opens the back door. Tiredly, he kneels and his hip pops as he reaches underneath the flower pot (he believes he gave this to you, but he really can’t remember) and slides from under it the key.

He turns the knob—not slowly or carefully, but rushedly—and it twists and opens. You had left it unlocked—God, he hates when you do that.

The door creaks open and gives way to Joel’s figure—you weren’t around to notice; it couldn’t be any earlier than midnight, and you had long since gone to bed. He fishes around on the wall in the pitch blackness for the light switch.  It takes him a moment, but he flicks it on. The kitchen is illuminated by a few twenty-year-old lightbulbs and cluttered by everything you couldn’t bother to put away. Each item thrown upon your table was a fragment of your life—not enough of which included him, which fueled his irritation.

His shoes don’t come off, and instead he climbs the stairs, his heavy boots leaving wet footprints on each step and 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 on the wood but not loud enough to wake you. His every pace is slightly swayed, his balance influenced by many glasses of whiskey, downed alone in a corner of the bar.

Your door is slightly askew, and its hinges squeal as he pushes it open. Joel’s eyes fall upon your sleeping figure, your limbs lost among the sea of blankets tossed atop your bed. Your work clothes had been haphazardly strewn across the floor, and you wore only a bra and panties. This was a spectacle of your everyday life, he realized; one that he didn’t know much about. Another pang of displeasure gnaws at his heart—he isn’t sure of its origin, but he knows that it’s disturbing him.

The way he kicks off his boots is slightly more hostile; a loud, dull noise that rings through the room. The old, hollow walls reverberate the sound, and you stir—but don’t wake. Once his old and beaten shoes rest against the wall, his feet carry him to the edge of your bed. As he takes in your sleeping face, your head resting in your hands and legs stretched wildly on the mattress, he feels almost proprietorial of you.

Only you know that Joel’s vexation often turns to arousal in your presence, and the two often blend. There is something about your still and sleeping face, the plush curves of your body made visible by your clothing (or, lack thereof)—or, it may simply be the fact that Joel is frustrated and he needs it taken care of. As he stands above you, his hand—as if on its own—snakes down to the bulge protruding from his worn jeans. His fingers rub and squeeze, his eyes running over you as you twitch and stir unconsciously. You seem to mesmerize him momentarily as he stands, his roving eyes concluding that they want more.

Soon enough, his drunkenly clumsy fingers are fumbling with his belt, pulling at its leather and clanking its buckle, pulling open the suddenly complex contraption. Next, the silver button of his jeans is popped and the zipper undone as your firm mattress dips under his weight when he sits. For a few moments, he looks at you. And with an almost uncharacteristic gentleness, his fingers reach out to touch you. The graze is tender as it glides along your side, your stomach, your chest—though maybe only an effort to adjourn your waking.

His calloused fingers reach the band of your underwear—a faded blue pair from however long ago. They roam over the soft fabric, cruising over its front and halting when they skim over the spot you like so much—it makes you tense; but your eyes don’t open. Two of Joel’s fingers trace circles for a moment. He watches your still face and glances down when your thighs squeeze. With a few more circlings, his patience has run dry and his captivation with you has turned to necessity.

He does as he can to be gradual with his movements as he lays over you on the bed, his hair tousled and his jeans halfway down. An elbow props him up, his face adjacent to yours as his glazed eyes search your closed ones. His free hand hastily frees himself from the confines of his boxers and rubs fumblingly over the damp fabric of your panties again before pushing aside its material.

His mind is slightly empty from the alcohol, and his head a bit achey, but he knows what he is doing. For no more than a split second, he looks down, aligning himself with you. He pumps his cock a few times before finally notching himself in—a hiss leaves his mouth, and as his hips begin pushing into yours, he looks back up. Your eyes are open.

Your eyes widen, surprised as sleepiness refuses you any sense of understanding.

“Shh,” Joel insists. “Baby, it’s me.” His voice tapers off when he says this, his head slouching to rest on your shoulder.

“Joel…” when his voice registers with you, familiar and low, your muscles relax a bit. “What… are you doing here?” You ask, and as soon as the question leaves your mouth, you understand its stupidity. His hips are moving now, in and out… ‘Why else would he be here?’ and you’re half asleep.

“This okay…?” he asks, but it doesn’t seem like he cares greatly about your answer; he is very much out of it. You smell it on him. On his skin, on his breath. Everywhere.

“Um, I…” His eyes are glassy and focused on yours, and his hips are getting faster. The room is black, and you’re not sure what to think, but you’re glad that he’s finally here again. The only sounds in your ears are the old radiator and the wet sound of skin on skin. “Yeah.”

His head dips to your neck, nipping and biting in a way that’s a little too primal. You wrap an arm around him, your hand resting on his back and when Joel begins to grunt, you let sounds escape your mouth, too.

“Shit…” his voice wavers, and he might be even more drunk than you thought he was. But as sloppy as his movements are, they are persistent. 

“Joel.” His name passes your lips. As a question, or as a statement, you aren’t sure. You don't get an answer. The moon outside is the only thing allowing you to see him, the accentuated lines across his face and the greys littering his hair. Your legs wrap around his hips now, seeking some sort of comfort, or reassurance.

He wasn’t ever particularly chatty during sex, but he is even quieter now. His energy, it seems, has been dedicated to pushing his hips as firmly and deeply into you as possible. He looks almost focused, determined. Or maybe distracted.

Joel is clearly working himself up. His movements rougher, his voice louder, and he’s close. You always know, with the way he tenses, the way he speaks. This is the only fact that registers in your mind; everything else is lost on you. So, when he says; “I’m not stoppin’,” you blink.

“What?”

“I’m gonna cum,” a thrust. “And I’m not pullin’ out, I’m not stoppin’.”

“Wh…” you start. A groan on both of your ends sounds when he hits a particularly good spot. You yourself are getting close now, your back arching slightly off the bed, your mind still cloudy as you try to make sense of Joel’s words.

A few of his fingers come down to rub your clit, circling onto you your own wetness before coming to rest on your stomach. His hand caresses the skin on your tummy. “Imagine that…” he mutters in an almost slurred tone. “Just imagine that.”

You look down at his hand, and then back up again. You meet his eyes, and you understand very clearly what he means. You don’t have the will to fight it–at least, you don’t think you do–so, you hold him tighter and closer, letting each thought fade from your mind as he continues to bliss you out. How he holds you so possessively, how he looks at you so rapaciously… you don’t mind at all.

A few more erratic thrusts, and you’re coming. A few more, and Joel is, too.

You hear it—a low grunt and a groan from Joel—and then you feel it; a deep, warm sensation— a release and movement of liquid that you’ve never felt before. He’s never done that. You can’t help but, in all your weariness, think about the weight of what has just taken place.

To claim you had never mulled over the thought of a child—Joel’s child—would be a lie. The thought was welcoming, sweet… but Joel was not. He was neither. What he had just made was either some kind of commitment, or a grave mistake.

“You’re mine, y’know.” He grumbles into your hair.

“Am I?” You ask.

“Y’are.”

“Okay. I believe you.”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Thanks for reading! Lmk if you like

[scribeofmorpheus]

Why Dragon Age Veilguard isn't a "Cathedral"

Concept art by Matt Rhodes

"To disinherit the storylines of past games goes directly against the notion of building cathedrals."

What is inherent with Veilguard that keeps bothering me is the fact that the world's choices truly didn't matter--and it doesn't simply bother me from a player perspective, it's not simply a grievance borne of frustration to what I (as a longtime fan) have lost. It's about the very culture of the arts under capitalism's new media habituation cycle [x][x].

Yes, I spent hours of my life playing and replaying each instalment of Dragon Age. Yes, I painstakingly curated a 'canon' world state by replaying what came before in preparation for Veilguard. Yes, I am even more unsatisfied with the end product--time hasn't helped, it's just widened the divide. But, and I can't stress this enough, these very personal gripes aren't what hit home the most. It's the inherent disregard of legacy. A legacy that the previous writers and game developers were building towards.

In the DAV artbook, "cathedral" is the word used to describe the process of making a game. Matt Rhodes' exact words are: "One artist can make a painting, but it takes a team to build a cathedral." Cathedrals took centuries to build. The architect who drafted the first blueprints would likely never see his work realised, he had to rely on those who came after him, like-minded and passionate, to see it through--for the culture, for the future, for legacy. Painters took on several apprentices for this reason too--giant frescoes were not completed by one man's hand, even if it is one man's name that immortalises them. Similarly, if you weave a narrative around choice, what good does it do to take it away at the final act if not to fall to caricature?

To disinherit the storylines of past games goes directly against the notion of building cathedrals.

Late-stage capitalism and profit-margin-obsessed game producers forcing developers to churn out meager content, to make a known brand into something it's not, to chase a fad or a popular trend... o, how reductive and cliche you've been forced to become Bioware. We have lost the cultural thought patterns relative to Cathedrals. We know only of barn-raised churches--done in a day but unlikely to last the turn of the seasons.

And don't even get me started on the music of Veilguard either. From Origins to World of Warcraft to Everquest to Baldur's Gate to Dungeon Siege, you can hear the intricate interconnected weave of sounds inspired by the Dungeons and Dragons-esque fantasy genre. You hear it in the repeated use of certain instruments, in the harmonic weeping notes of a bard-like singer or the foreboding echoes of drums as if of war. In tavern songs. But then, rather than hire someone who loves these worlds and this genre, who is a hungry artist looking to make a name, a legacy if you will, for themselves with a spectacular score, you hire any already sated composer, one well-into the encroaching years of career fatigue, whose notes repeat in countless projects, who feels less concise and more uninterested with each new project. One who has long since cemented his legacy. Someone in it for a paycheck and nothing else! And, to top it off, you let him compose something so minimalist? I am offended actually.

Cathedrals! We should have witnessed the final tile being placed on the Dragon Age cathedral. Instead, some architects walked up, tore down the interior and installed IKEA furniture and called it authentic before having to call the previous architects to come and fix the "load-bearing issues", forcing them to rush and add a coat of varnish and a few 'aged' details for authenticity.

[n7punk]

She-ra (2018) Official Merch

I've made a loooong post about She-ra merch and its weirdness, but I wanted to summarize it in the most comprehensive list of official merch for the 2018 Netflix reboot that I could assemble. I'm sure I've missed some stuff, though, so I'll update this if I find anything. Thanks to everyone who contributed, especially Clare and Tippen.

I did deep dives (with pictures and details) on con exclusive and promotion exclusive merch. Basic info on those is included below the read more of this post.

Everything with [L] at the end of its bulletpoint has a photo in the long post. I provided links to official photos/listings when possible, but most of them are defunct.

Pins/Accessories/Clothing (active):

*A bunch of jewelry (necklaces, rings, earrings) and enamel pins from Han Cholo (+ one iron-on patch). I've seen resellers claim the chibi pins were exclusive to a convention, but they're up on the website. The [L]ong post has pictures of these if they ever go down, and the actual convention-exclusive ones can be found in the con post. *Some designs originally part of this line, such as the glowing failsafe forehead-touch pin, have been permanently retired/sold out.

Amazon print-on-demand clothing (+ tote bags and pop sockets) with a lot of different designs that are hidden on the site but still purchasable, see this post for details, and here's the direct link. Once you find a design you like, you can search its name in the regular search bar (for instance, there's a shirt design called "Power Stripes Catra," for that one you have to search just "Stripes Catra") to see all the kinds of items it comes on, usually a variety of tops/outerwear, maybe a tote, and sometimes pop sockets.

Bioworld also had licensed merch, but some designs are hidden on their store page, so the link shows everything available but includes both the reboot and the 80s original. As of writing, they have one lunchbox, two adult t-shirts, one adult crop top, and two youth shirts for the reboot.

Media (active):

A DVD of just the first three seasons (there's a box sleeve version that includes stickers and it's never clear in listings if this is the only version and they just don't show the sleeve or if they're two separate things). This is still for sale at multiple retailers, but there's no way we're ever getting a full boxset.

There were a couple of books: the Rebel Princess Guide, the Legend of the Fire Princess graphic novel, and then some small "novels." These are still available at multiple retailers, but the novels weren't made by the crew and at least some of these contradict basic facts from season one, so they're less canon than many fanfics despite being licensed.

Everything from this point on is out of production and only available via resale.

Toys/Figures (defunct):

Eight fashion dolls. The line had Adora, Glimmer, Bow, Catra, and She-ra (season one version), Battle Armor She-ra (2-pack with a model of Swift Wind featuring their Battle of Bright Moon looks), and a deluxe She-ra & Shadow Weaver 2-pack (SDCC 2019 exclusive). These dolls were supposed to be Target exclusive, but the rollout was botched and now they're collectors' items. There were also four cancelled dolls that were supposed to be part of the line. Details on the line from one of its designers can be found here.

Two Super7 action figures in a Catra & Adora 2-pack with limited articulation. They're rare collector's items too, though this time it's just because they were a limited run that came out early in the show's cycle and were mostly snapped up by speculative MOTU collectors. [L]

A plastic toy Sword of Protection and shield sized for children. The sword lit up and said "For the honor of Grayskull!" when you lifted it. The gem was semi-transparent on the front and had a picture of She-ra under it. This was a Target and Amazon exclusive (Mattel & Target are always holding hands 🤝). [L]

Clothes/Dress-up/Accessories (defunct):

Four licensed She-ra costumes (season one version) of varying quality: a Target-exclusive one in limited sizes, one from Disguise in a wider range of sizes, one from Party City (as well as a wig and Sword of Protection prop licensed under Classic Media) for children, and one from Rubie's Costume Company (with a season one Catra costume to match, as well as separate accessory packs and wigs for both characters) that was also available at Party City. [L]

Her Universe used their Netflix license to make three shirts, two jackets, an earring set, and a wallet. Bioworld (remember them?) are actually the producers of the earrings with their name rather than Her Universe's branding being found on the backing card. [L]

Hot Topic made a few shirts (one, two, three, and I don't have the primary link for the fourth design). A fifth pale pink shirt (probably released at the end of 2020) without photos/listings online features chibi Catra and Adora (not She-ra) on the front and the quote "I don't know about you, but I am having a blast -Catra & Adora" on the back. At least three button pins were also available, two with a rainbow wheel background featuring the chibi art of She-ra and Swift Wind, and one in a rainbow ombre background with a white anime-style art of She-ra in battle on it. [L] (for everything except the fifth shirt and buttons)

Misc (defunct):

Zaks Design-A-Tumbler, a plastic see-through drink tumbler with a sticker sheet provided so you can place the character graphics inside as desired. Features the key character art seen on most other merch for the Best Friend Squad as well as the sword, the moonstone, Swift Wind for the horse girls, and some random sparkles and hearts to fill space. It was available via Amazon and Walmart.

Comcanroll made a Sword of Protection keychain, also defunct. [L]

Beneath the cut are con exclusives and promotional items that were not for sale (at all, or at least by themselves) but that you can still probably hunt down online. Also... still available apps.

I can't believe this is real but there are two apps. She-Ra Stickers is available on iOS and Android and is exactly what you expect: "stickers" (pngs) to send in texting conversations. She-ra Gems of Etheria (also still available on iOS and Android) is a match 3+ game. It doesn't have micro transactions or ads (since, you know, the whole thing is an ad) so it's actually better than most things on the app store.

@tippenfunkaport also made a post about "digital merch" (backgrounds, printed papercrafts, etc) that Dreamworks posted online.

Other potential con/promotional merch (possibly worn by event staff or given away at cons) can be found in this post, and if you know the origin of any of these items, please let me know! For ones I received information on earlier up the reblog chain, I have edited their description, so please click through to it to check first.

Promotion Exclusives:

I made a separate post for promo-exclusive merch. Things marked with an [L] still have photos in the long post, but photos are better gathered, sorted, and more thorough for all of these things in the promo-exclusive post, so please look at that one if any of these interest you.

Lootcrate/Lootwear made a pair of socks, a notebook, and a tumbler all featuring the season one She-ra silhouette. These were only available as part of their subscription service and not for individual sale. [L]

A Sonic kids meal tie-in that featured: magnets of the characters, funko-esque She-ra and Hordak figures, Swift Wind & Imp "straw buddies," and a small inflatable toy Sword of Protection. [L]

The following is promotional material that was never available to the general public:

A statuette of She-ra sent out to family bloggers to promote season four. Very limited due to the tiny production and being fragile. [L]

A rare metal lunchbox was sent out to influencers to promote season one and was also seen at cons, though not for sale.

Media press kits included a number of items that made it to the public as con-exclusives (see below for more details on these): collectors cards, buttons, and a foam tiara.

Stickers plugging the Dreamworks Careers' socials were also produced, likely for recruitment. [L]

Gray zip-up hoodies with a small sword on the front (pocket area placement) and a larger logo on the back were made for the crew and cast and were never available outside of Dreamworks.

A shirt featuring a graphic of She-ra riding Swift Wind with the She-ra logo in the corner - distribution & source currently unknown. Looks similar but is distinct from an existing Amazon POD design. Best guess is it was given out at an event (con, reviewer promo, employee event, etc), but I'm putting it here since I have no clue where it was from.

A pink shirt featuring the BFS on the front, logo on the back, and Dreamworks and Netflix logos on the sleeves. Worn by staff at the Scholastic booth in 2019 NYC Bookexpo and likely at other events as well.

Con exclusives (defunct):

I made a separate post for con-exclusive promo items. Some of these still have photos in the long post, but photos and details about which cons they were available at and such are gathered in the con-exclusive post.

Button pin sets of the Princess Alliance and Horde (4 sets, 4 buttons each) were at comic cons. These were possibly also available on Amazon for a time but I can't find confirmation on that beyond a backing card logo that could just mean the card itself was produced by Amazon. They aren't for sale now either way. These came in a large variant (maybe ~2-2.5 inches) and a small variant (maybe ~.5-1 inch) for all designs.

A standalone pin featuring the She-ra key art found on most promotional items was given out at LightBox Expo.

A foam She-ra crown and flat plastic/foam Sword of Protection, handed out at multiple cons.

She-ra socks designed after her uniform (including a cape on the back) seem to have been given out at cons. Photos are only in the [L]ong post because they aren't good and I ran out of room.

There's a number of official poster designs that were handed out as mini posters at cons, but most listings online are reprints.

Collector's cards were handed out at cons, probably SDCC.

Temporary tattoos, stickers, bookmarks, and coloring sheets were handed out at Power-Con (years unknown) and possibly other locations, likely those that sold the Scholastic books. Temporary tattoos were also sent out with special book orders through Scholastic's club. [also in L]

A plastic shopping bag, made to be a disposable advertisement, exclusive to Anime Expo 2019. This one also don't have a photo in the con exclusive post because it's just one of the poster designs already in there, but there is a (wrinkly) photo in the [L]ong post.

The program cover for PowerCon 2019 featured He-Man on the left and the 2018 She-Ra design on the right, drawn by Tony Washington, not really in the show's style.

An activity booklet made by Scholastic was given out at NYCC and possibly other Scholastic booths.

[hexhomos]

The 'Talis' hypothesis

So I think the S2 trailer confirms something central about Arcane I've wondered for a while. This has plot bearings to it, namely what nebulous purpose 'Magic' serves in the story -- how they're changing the role Hextech has in the game lore, incl. its power system & ruleset -- and what kind of hubris is associated with it historically. But it also answers something that has always nagged at me: why the fuck did they change Jayce's name?

So let's talk about this picture. And I'm going to give you the rosetta stone in 5 seconds:

This is Hextech now. Like that is just an incredibly concise and complete descriptor of Hextech-in-Arcane, right. It 'harms' Jinx, it 'protects' Jayce in the snowstorm, it 'heals' Viktor to a degree. It is installed permanently in architecture; the Hexgates ARE the brand.

First off, we have this fucker carrying around a talisman from back when he was 7, and the cinematography of the show agonizes over showing you this throughout all of ep2:

Jayce's bracelet is a bang-on definition of a historical talisman. The way hextech *functions* in the show is inextricable from the promises and rites associated with talismans, a word appropriated/popularized by the French - which I'm going to conservatively argue Fortiche would be familiar with;

Which brings me to the subject of what Hextech is, and how Hextech was changed for the tv show (and what its possibly being retconned to in the game)

Hex'tech' is not technology. The name is a carryover from a bygone era of leagueoflegends speak; Hextech in Arcane, and presumably in expanded lore going forward (given Skarner's rework and other things) - is the study, development, and the building of an industry around the craft of practical Talismans. If you want to understand how this shit works you need to promptly abandon the assumption that it is 'manufactured' magic -- its pure magic. It's raw magic. The tech part is a red herring misnomer.

The beliefs around this already cover links to 'the Arcane' as another, ethereal destination realm with Inhabitants that learn and change, ontop of rune-carving as magical instruction;

This also covers Viktor's impending transformation and the changes made to his character.

IN MY OPINION, via the content released so far and what we've already witnessed in S1, Viktor has been shifted away from becoming 'the machine herald' and re-positioned to become the Herald of Divine Rune Alchemy or whichever name they end up using.

I don't doubt that he'll get the armor at some point, because that's a recognizable visual and as much fanservice as they owe his decade-long fans, but... I would temper my expectations around the thought of machine evolution. It's not what this Viktor does, and it's not what he (or the narrative,) is interested in -- My guess is that the armor comes into play as a secondary way to AVOID overusing limited magical power, as we've seen runes can be depleted, and the hexcore tends to kill things in exchange.

Now that we've established all that, here is the bridge that I'm going to sell you.

Now, for today's homework, I expect you to run off to do something useful and homoerotic with this information.

[takes1]

THANK YOU FOR WRITING MY KUROKEN REQUEST OMHFGSGHFGRS. IM SO SO HAPPY THANK YOU AJJWKAJDHFBTNFJEJ!!!!!CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT! :D

[p.2] kenma sharing you with kuroo

im so glad youre into it!!!! i love hearing from you! this was getting too long again, had to break it up AAAAAAAAA so there will be another part idk why i cant be concise theres just a lot of juicy stuff here

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / threesome / angsty smut / jealous!kuroo / secure!kenma /petnames / submissive(with conditions)!reader / praisewhore!reader / kenma being rough on purpose / f!rec oral / backshots / riding / kuroo being rough on accident / very mastermind!kenma / poly!kuroo, poly!kenma, poly?reader / crushing on kuroo / fluid pecking order / 3k words / somehow more to follow, pls reply to be added to taglist for HOPEFULLY FINAL PART

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. part one here. final part.

The sheer size of his physique always made you and Kenma both feel smaller, and fragile at times. Like a couple of toys to him.

Now that you could see what he had been hiding underneath his shirt; a full, wide chest that stretched, taut, across two robust shoulders. Lines worked under his skin, cropping up like guitar strings as he tossed his shirt to the side.

Comparing him to Kenma was useless. They weren't just in different weight classes; it was simply unfair to draw the full list of their differences out.

The worst part was that he knew how hot he was. He acted like he was the best thing since sliced bread. Always flexing in every mirror, offering a bulky bicep for you to squeeze just to watch you squirm on more than one occasion, leaning over both you and your boyfriend, crushing you in unnecessary group hugs.

"How's that sound, baby?" Kenma muttered against your ear, speaking in that low tone he knew you liked.

Face burning hot, you stared at the floor until Kuroo filled your vision. His chest was blocking your ability to ignore him, to try thinking clearly enough to maybe say something back.

Kenma was keeping you still, one arm around your middle, the other hand rested under one of your breasts, "You can touch him. It's okay."

They shared a look you couldn't see.

"I won't bite anymore," Kuroo whispered. He kissed the top of your head as an apology, of sorts.

He lifted your wrist and placed it onto his sculpted stomach. It was a safe move, because it did help you calm down and give you something to look at. You weren't sure if you'd be able to look him in the eye ever again.

Your heart was still racing, but you did want to touch him. Both of your hands slid over his impressive body, thumbs prodding harder into the bulky muscle you weren't so used to- the type of grabbing and groping you had always been curious about. The back of your hand brushed his dark happy trail, your breath clipped at how his v-line dove deep into his sweats.

"Kemma," He muttered, breathy, over your head, keeping your hand right there, at his waistband.

You missed whatever exchange they must've had outside of your focus, but you were right on time to turn and watch them kiss.

Mouth open, you watched, shamelessly turned on, at the steamy exchange of tongue and spit, past and power between them right next to your head.

Nothing about that was unsure in nature. You could have been convinced that they kissed frequently.

Kuroo's hand kept yours barred on his tummy so you couldn't let him go- his other hand slipped between you and Kenma, pulling possessively at the small of your back. Kenma was also pulling you harder, closer, and you felt his hand slide onto your neck.

He usually did that when he wanted comfort- but it felt different for blur of reasons here.

They were both holding tightly onto you, but kissing each other. It nearly gave you whiplash, how fast it simplified things.

The way Kuroo parted, jaw flexed, a little flare on his nostrils in restraint was outrageously sexy. His narrowed, drunken eyes looked to you.

Your wall was back up, immediately- but you couldn't move, so you took his kiss, anyway.

His lips were wet and warm with the faint taste of Kenma. And he was making himself busy at he curve of your neck, noisily sucking and biting that little sensitive spot where it dipped into your shoulder, where he knew you held all of your stress.

"Mmnh-!"

Your uncontrollable sound was eaten right up, and Kuroo was able to get his tongue in your mouth, all clumsy, needy, like he just wanted to be inside of you no matter the method. He pushed your hand further into his pants and -of course- he wasn't wearing any underwear.

Did they kiss just to get you to this spot? The thought was concerning, but fleeting.

You gasped when he finally parted- for air, at Kenma's mouth, and the brief, unintentional brush against his cock.

Your hand shot back out of his pants, and though it looked like a struggle for him, he didn't continue trying to keep your wrist hostage. Kuroo didn't have much patience. The way he showed his passion sided closer to some kind of underlying bitterness, if anything.

A big, loud, tingly kiss to your neck, "He's good, huh?"

You glanced at Kuroo- he watched Kenma, a toothy smirk on his handsome face, like that compliment truly resonated somewhere.

"Yeah," You sighed, still scratchy. You hadn't used your voice in a while.

His arms slipped from you, a small lull in all the intensity for a position shift. You went maybe half a second with neither of them touching you- Kuroo scooped you up just as you were moving to take your seat on your boyfriend's lap.

"What're you thinkin', buddy?"

He held you like a display for him, both hands cupping your tits, a few giggly pecks to the top of your head.

"Wanna know what's goin' on in that brain of yours," His mutter felt aggressive against your scalp, making you feel a bit meek, yielding to his greedy touch.

Kenma scanned your intertwined bodies with a calculated, muted (as most of his emotions read), excitement you had rarely ever seen before.

What he had in mind was inventive, certainly not your first thought, but it was in your favor.

Your concern was quelled as you saw his little idea into action- he could handle more weight than you thought, as Kuroo straddled him, a little amused smile on his face. He took in the view of you perched atop Kenma's face, your hands crossed delicately on his chest.

The idea was so you would have to look at Kuroo.

He caught the hickeys scattered along your shoulder and neck.

"Damn Kemma, that's pretty gnarly," Kuroo's finger slipped over your skin and you flinched, "You sure that's gonna heal before class?"

Kenma shrugged underneath you, another kiss over that already tingly, sensitive bud. You tried to shift away, but he barred his arms over your hips to kept you in place. You had to brave the sensation, this position, longer.

"That's the point," Mumbled against you. Kuroo smirked at how your form broke, a curve to your spine already.

A big, slow lap at your pussy was just what you needed- all this grabbing and pinching and bruising, you just needed some head at this point.

Your moan, light, fluttery, and soft, had his attention locked.

Kuroo's thumb was gentle -not quite as gentle as Kenma- brushing your cheek, the rest of his fingers curled lightly under your jaw. You could look at those shoulders, that thick neck, his veiny forearms all day, but it was just different, difficult, having to meet his face.

"Ohh, you gotta learn to look at me, babydoll," His thumb was lowered, swiped across your glossy lip, his voice bittersweet, "Or we're gonna have a tough time."

It was like looking at him would make it more real. To your defense, it did- every time. You hated that he was using it as a way to get at you, because now he wouldn't give it up.

Finally, a kiss you didn't move away from.

His height gave him the advantage of being able to lean across the distance comfortably. You got to sit 'still' on Kenma's skilled tongue.

Since you weren't making it an unnecessary struggle this time, he was softer. Or, he was just trying to prove he could play the 'good guy,' too. He stroked himself over his sweats to the sounds you spilled across his mouth.

It only took a minute for him to move away from you, clambering off of the mattress, temporarily--

"'Ey bud- I'm takin' my pants off- I can't stand this shit."

You looked away as he stripped, so quick, so eager to get back to his kisses.

There was a clouded, dreamy haze in your vision at his slow, methodical circles. It was impossible to sit straight, but you knew Kenma could take a bit of weight on his chest.

"M-mmnh-ah,"

It took a second for your brain to catch up to everything, but when you replayed how he announced his actions, you really liked that he was, in a way, deferring to Kenma.

"Thaat's better," He groaned, lowering in a silly way to look at your pleasure-drunk expression, "Hm."

He looked down at Kenma, a palm gliding over the lines in his stomach. The muscle underneath danced, twitchy, and sensitive.

"Does he feel good, babygirl?"

You nodded, a weak, "Mh-mm, ah-!"

Kuroo seethed at the sound and quickened his pumping hand, "Ohh- you wanna tell him how good he feels?"

As his eyes trailed down your pretty, weakening form, he barely stopped himself from touching the tent in Kenma's pants. Instead, he kept his second hand gripping his hip bone, probing the skin there.

"Mmh-!" You cried, stooping forward with a tremble.

The little pitiful, embarrassed expression on your face was deserving of another kiss, however fleeting.

"Go 'head. Tell'm, baby."

Kenma must've loved the idea, because he made it intentionally difficult for you to get your words out. It was huffy, and broken, and interrupted by a quick, higher whine or two- but you did manage to tell him how perfect he felt, just like Kuroo wanted.

He didn't notice your reaction to his quiet, natural, "Good girl."

A couple of taps let you know to take your weight off of him. You were shaky, close, and already embarrassed, by that time, though.

Kuroo helped by keeping you upright and supported as Kenma slid out from his position.

"You are sooo cute," He cooed, a big hand squishing your face up so you couldn't avoid another kiss.

He liked smothering you with attention, in the absence of his more intense habits. It felt like you were dealing with cuteness-aggression, unable to wriggle out of his hold.

Your attempts were always half-assed, since it was everything you wanted. The subtle pushing, evading his kisses, little dissatisfied huffs, were more about the principle of not letting him treat you however he wanted. Kenma always put you first. You didn't want Kuroo's sudden presence to change that.

Since he knew you wouldn't touch him, he just stroked himself, between your bodies. It only worked to get him more frustrated at how difficult you were.

"Could you-- damn," Kenma did a double-take at his friend's dick, and left it at that, "Could you lay down?"

Kuroo liked his role. He liked his dick getting praised, too. His smile was unshakable, as he followed along and adjusted per Kenma's nudging. He looked up at him once more when you were prompted to sit on his lap.

Though your pussy was aching for something more, after an hour of essentially just on-and-off foreplay -especially a fan of the big, hunky addition to the bedroom beneath you-, you only hovered until Kenma weighed your hips the rest of the way down.

Kuroo was whiny, speaking only to his friend, "Why won't she look at me?"

He looked at you, "Aren't we friends?"

You grew warm, shuddery at that call-out and the fact that he caught you staring at his abs again.

A good distraction was Kenma, finally taking those stupid sweatpants off; you leaned towards him, quick to pump his cock and treat him well to a flurry of kisses.

He looked sleepy, satisfied with how easily you paid him attention.

His question was mumbled against your lips, a way od depriving you of your last kiss, "Why won't you look at Kuroo, hm?"

You squinted and sighed, a thoughtful effort on your brow until you felt the addictive, slick sensation of Kuroo's cock sliding against your folds, bumping your clit just right.

He was such a tease- he knew what he was doing, when he did it. He wanted to cut you off and smirked at his success.

An uneven whine- your hands landed on top of Kuroo's, swallowing up the crease of your thighs, hips, and ass with his outrageously big fingers.

"You should be nicer to him," He placed a gentle kiss to your cheek and left your side, opting to get behind you.

Kenma guided you by the shoulder to lean forward, face-to-face with Kuroo, knocked to your elbows. He pressed himself against your entrance.

"Oooh, what'd I tell ya?" He spoke right through Kenma sinking deeper into your pussy, finally filling you up, and still rocked his own cock against your clit, "You gonna- ah, look at me now? Or are you about to make this hard?"

You and Kuroo were in similar roles, in the way that you had no idea what Kenma was thinking, or why he did it, aside from speculation.

"A-ahh-!" You gasped, brow furrowed at how much you needed him, how much better this felt with Kuroo here, really here, instead of just in your fantasies.

The stretch, the delayed gratification of finally taking him, loosened your personal reigns a little. You wanted to see how his friend liked it.

It was difficult, but you managed to take in his handsome, dark features while Kenma filled you over and over again. His jaw was tight, flexed, as he bit the inside of his cheek. His eyes never looked endearing but they were clearly narrowed on purpose, focused and tense at your decision to keep your attention on him only now.

He was so jealous that it looked like he was struggling more than you. You loved watching it play out in his eyes, having to sit there and listen to you get railed right in front of him.

"You've got such a pretty little slut for a girlfriend-," He quelled his hunger for you with a quick, harsh kiss, muttering just between you, "Lucky bastard."

Kenma stayed deep, just barely rolling his hips with a sigh. You choked out a moan against Kuroo's frown.

There was an enviable ease to his words.

"I know."

This whole mess of a dynamic was unfolding and taking different shapes the more you all switched, resisted, or accepted your roles.

He was deep, and you were taking him so well that he wasn't as slow, or as soft as he usually opted for. The audience present gave him just a small kick of energy that he used to be a little harder with you.

"Koz-ume--!" You begged, "Mmh- slo-w-- slower..."

He didn't slow down because he knew you were only being theatrical. The intention behind his willful ignorance, still made you search for something, somebody, that would listen. It left you holding onto Kuroo for comfort instead, squeezing him closer to you, mumbling your incoherent whines past his ear.

In the process, his greedy, pinchy hands became more sympathetic, as he had to hold you still. His frown became occupied with shushes and little pecks to your shoulder, and he eventually had wrapped his arms around you, like a hug.

"You're takin' him soo well, babygirl," His low mutter did nothing to soothe you. It only made you want to cum to the sound of his voice. He rubbed over the scratches Kenma had been busy raking across your back.

"Soo fuckin' good."

Neither of you were ready to part, not yet- but Kenma pulled you out of his arms. He hugged you to his own chest, stalling deep inside of you, stuffing your poor pussy with a cruel thrust.

Again, one of those instances that wouldn't be replicated as easily with a big difference in height.

He was breathy, but he didn't stutter: "You gonna be nice to him?"

His hand squeezed your neck, his eyes steady from you, to Kuroo. Your breath was labored, your eyes narrowed, wanting, down at him.

"Hm?"

In the stillness, you could feel the extra wet running down your legs and wondered if you'd ever be so perfectly turned on again.

A managed a higher, breathier, "Yes," and he loosened his grip, letting you back onto Kuroo. Though he hadn't gotten any, he was more than satisfied with how pliable it made you.

You couldn't stop looking at him now.

He kept his grip tight on you, in case Kenma wanted to try taking you away again. His kisses had more depth, more appreciation. As hot as it was seeing Kenma so assertive, he hated being left out in the cold.

"That's too bad."

Was a phrase that both of you, even in spite of your stimulation, paused at. Your lip was hesitantly let go from its place between Kuroo's teeth. He gave him a dirty look as you burrowed your head into his giant shoulder.

Kenma was toneless, void of empathy, "You wanted to third, didn't you?"

Kuroo's expression shattered- the tension in his whole face dissipating into a thousand little pieces for about two seconds, as he tried to decipher what he meant, how he meant it, and how he should take that.

"I'm kidding-" Kenma snickered, still speaking through his fluttery, cute giggle as he addressed you, "You still wanna fuck Kuroo?"

It really hit home, for both of you, that none of this was going to work without Kenma being decidedly cool about a lot of things.

"Yes," Spilled from your lips, muffled against Kuroo's hot skin- you repeated yourself, shakily pushing yourself up for good measure, "Fuck yes."

A 'See? I told you so,' look to Kuroo. He slowly pulled out of you, leaving you to deal with an emptiness that altogether worsened your clingy exterior.

Kuroo's jealousy had softened to appreciation, and your apprehension traded spots with a need for attention. Kenma liked the control of facilitating it all.

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

taglist.

^if you're new, pls reply to be added for final part!

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my masterlist. more haikyuu.

[gojover]

i was debating making this post for a long, long time, because i don’t like getting political on a fandom space, but as an indian, i felt the need to talk about this. i can’t engage in fandom content without feeling deeply guilty & worried for all the soldiers and innocent lives already lost and at stake, so here’s a brief masterpost to spread awareness about what’s going on in jammu & kashmir at the moment.

i have linked all my sources, and have aimed to be as unbiased as possible. if you find any discrepancies or inaccuracies, please don’t hesitate to tell me so that i can edit accordingly.

before i get into any of the actual details, i want to talk about what triggered this entire conflict between india and pakistan: the pahalgam attack, which took place on april 22, 2025.

(it’s also worth knowing that the india vs pakistan conflict over J&K is not something that was caused by this isolated incident; there are decades of history between the two countries dating back to the partition of india. you can read briefly about it here.)

the pahalgam attack was an attack on 26 tourists by five armed militants in a popular tourist destination known as baisaran valley (located in india-administered kashmir), which is surrounded by dense pine forest and is only accessible by foot or horseback.

the militants singled out the men & asked for their religion, before shooting the hindu and christian tourists. the attackers also asked some tourists to recite the islamic kalima to identify non-muslims. of the 26 people killed, 25 were tourists and one was a local muslim pony ride operator who tried to wrestle a gun from the attackers before being shot. the tourists included several newlywed couples, and the men were shot point-blank in front of their wives.

some hindu men were forced to remove their trousers to check for a lack of circumcision before being shot at close range. the militants also told some hindu women that they were spared so that they could narrate the horrors of their mens’ killing to the prime minister of india, narendra modi.

the national investigation agency (NIA) formally took over the pahalgam terrorist attack case on april 27. the lashkar-e-taiba proxy the resistance front (TRF), claimed responsibility for the attack.

in retaliation to the pahalgam attack, india launched operation sindoor on may 6, 2025.

the indian armed forces carried out precision strikes at around 1 am on terror infrastructure in pakistan and pakistan-occupied kashmir (PoK). nine sites were targeted, and each were selected because they had a history of association with major terror plots and infiltration attempts against india (such as the 2001 parliament attack, the 2019 pulwama attack, and the 26/11 mumbai attacks). no pakistani military facilities were targeted, as stated during the press briefing on may 7.

you can read about the nine sites & why they were targeted here.

as an additional note, it is worth noting that the central government directed all states and union territories to conduct mock drills on may 7 across 244 categorised civil defence districts in the event of a hostile attack.

following the indian attacks on may 7, pakistan resorted to unprovoked artillery shelling across the line of control (LoC), resulting in 13 casualties, with the poonch sector in jammu being the worst hit. this is not the first time pakistan has violated the LoC ceasefire agreement.

as of the time of writing, several cities/districts present on the border of the two countries have been facing blackouts. this comes as a counter-offensive against pakistani drones and missiles which violated the indian airspace several times over the entire western border with the intent of targeting indian military facilities along the western and northern frontiers. however, india was able to neutralise this attempt to hit military stations in jammu and other locations.

tl;dr: this thread on x offers a more concise version of the same events.

the main reason i wanted to make this post is because i saw this post on x and had to take a minute to recover because. genuinely what the actual fuck. in my opinion, a caucasian british person should be the last person speaking up on this matter. the selective activism and hypocrisy is glaringly obvious.

edit: here are a few more resources that provided good insights into what’s happening

articles on the pahalgam attack and its immediate aftermath: one two three

regarding the TRF statement: one

more articles about india/pakistan escalating the war: one two three

posts about what’s been happening in azad kashmir: one two

how to download tiktok (if you’re indian): here

please take the time to read through these and educate yourselves if you’re unaware of what the conflict is about.

[esstrellaa123]

Simon Riley who avoids touching you MONTHS into the relationship because he swears that everything he touches withers away. Only problem is, is that your love language is physical touch and you get fed up with his avoidance quickly.

“You’re upset” he’d state simply, watching you roll your eyes. “With me it seems.” He’d mutter, making his way to you.

“Wow, you’re so smart.” You’d say sarcastically, arms crossed and clearly on the defensive.

“Just tell me what’s wrong instead of trying to verbally rip my throat out, hm?”

You roll your eyes once more. “You never touch me.” You state, clearly uncomfortable as you tell him your feelings. “Just makes me think you don’t like me anymore.” You admit.

“One, I like you very much, okay? Let’s make that clear.” He says matter of fact, taking a seat next to you.

“Then why don’t you touch me? What are you so afraid of?” You all but snap.

He’s quiet for a moment. A moment too long.

“Never mind.” You say stiffly, moving to leave.

“Don’t walk away from me. It’s bothering you, so we’ll talk it out.” He grumbles, pulling you back down and into his lap. It’s the most touch you’ve gotten from him since the two of you started dating.

It shocks you, sure, but you lean into it more than pull away, which in turn, shocks Simon.

“I’m…” he starts, but the words are lost on him. It’s vulnerable. Way too vulnerable.

…..

The silence is too much. You thought you’d get and answer, but he’s failed in that department as much as he’s failed to make you feel physically loved. It’s a bitter truth you don’t know if you can swallow.

You leave the room, favoring the couch for the night.

Simon doesn’t sleep that night however, mulling over how to go about this because he simply can’t lose you. Not now, not ever.

By the time morning seeps into the windows of the cozy place you both call home, he has his speech down.

“Dove.” He states plainly, trapping you between the counter you make coffee at and himself.

You try to move, but he doesn’t let you.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” You say. It’s simple, concise, and more than clear. But he’s having none of it.

“Well, that’s too damn bad, isn’t it?”

“Simon—”

He cuts you off. “You asked me why I don’t touch you, and I didn’t have an answer. But I do now, so will you hear me out?”

You don’t want to. You want to tell him no and push him away. But you’re grown and this is important and you want nothing but a truthful answer.

You don’t move away and he takes it as his cue to continue.

“I am… scared. I’m scared if I touch you, I’ll hurt you. And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did.”

You can tell it’s a lot for him to admit. Even something as simple as this. Before you can speak, he continues.

“But I can tell it’s an important thing to you, and I don’t want to push you away.” He looks you in the eye as he speaks, unable to tear his gaze away. “Let me make it up to you?” He asks, a hesitant hand under your chin to keep you looking at him. He wants to read your every expression. He has to.

You only nod, leaning into his softer than silk touch.

His breath of relief is audible, it eases you as well.

It starts slow, and with conditions. You have to tell him if it hurts, if his hand is too firm or heavy on your tender skin. You agree of course, relishing in finally being able to cuddle up to him at night, or lay on his chest on lazy Sundays, or hold his face because you just love him so much.

Soon enough, Simon figures out that touch— your touch— isn’t all that bad and maybe his hands aren’t as destructive as his job has led him to believe because you have yet to crack, to tell him it hurts, to say that his bare palm on your bare skin is too much.

Now, he finds himself pulling you closer, keeping you trapped next to him. But you don’t squirm, you mark the place as home, curling closer. He pulls your hips back to him when you try to leave and he simply isn’t ready to yet. You’ll stay with him right?

His blunt nails often find their way cresting into your supple skin because he’s “not ready to let you go yet, love.” It brings a smile to your face even if you’ll be late to work for the third time this week. It’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make if it means another soft kiss on your lips that morning. If it means being comforted by him and not with just his words.

The touches between you two are soft, and tender. Protective. Possessive? Sweet. And with that hurdle cleared, he thinks he’s fallen deeper in love with you, and you him because his arms are the safest place you’ve fallen into.

[yandere-daydreams]

How do you think divorcing any jjk man or genshin character would go? Like straight up just leaving them cold when you had the chance.

tw - non/con, controlling relationships, abusive themes.

hmmmm i've never actually written a divorce fic have i. anyway we're going jjk with this because i've thought long and hard and come up with neat and concise categories that encompass all of their freak needs.

some less controlling men, like gojo and nanami, might let you go through with it, less because they understand why you want to leave them and more because they don't fully believe you ever would. you're their soulmate, the love of their life, the light of their existence, and even if you're a little angry now, you'll come to your senses eventually. sure, they'll talk to your little attorney and go to your little court dates, but the moment you actually start to physically remove yourself from their vicinity, try to strip them of the parts of yourself that they've already taken ownership of, they'll put a stop to your temper tantrum with a few more locks on the front door and a long night or reminding you why you got married in the first place, followed immediately by burning those silly papers you brought home and sliding the ring that you tried to return back onto your finger, where it belongs. they'll let you have your fun, sure, but at the end of the day, they're your husband, and they'll remind you as many times as they have to until it sticks.

others, like geto and yuuta, never present divorce as an option. geto's a special case - if you got married legally, then there's a very, very good chance that he's got you locked away too tightly to so much as see a courthouse, let alone step inside of one long enough to file for something as time-consuming as divorce. if you ever get away from him, you should be fleeing the country, not hiring an attorny. you know better than to waste your time on something so petty.

as for yuuta, there's only a small chance you consented to marriage in the first place. it's much more likely that you simply woke up with a ring stitched surgically onto your finger and a strange man calling himself your husband in your bed, and 'divorce' just isn't a word in his vocabulary. he's going to be your husband until the day he dies, and no scrap of paper you might show him is going to change that.

and others still, like toji, are going to panic. you can't leave him. i mean, you can - it's not like he's around often enough to stop you - but you can't leave him. you can say that you're sick of him crashing on your couch, that you don't like how often he comes home covered in blood, that you concerned about the well-being of his kids, but that doesn't mean you have to start yelling about ""restraining orders"" and ""calling cps"". you two are good together, and he's sure you'll see that after he gives you a good reason to stay with him - namely, a broken leg and his cock shoved deep enough inside of you to push every other thought out of your mind. you're lucky he loves you so much. if you're lucky, he'll even recite his vows as he fucks the concept of divorce out of your head entirely <3

[ot3]

sometimes i feel compelled to type up a long post where I super autistically get into the particulars of edgeworth's dialogue in the trilogy vs the investigations duology and explain why i think yamazaki's moment-to-moment character writing is much weaker even if i think the arc he put together was very good. but i really just don't think anything i could manage to say would be as concise as just putting these two quotes from yamazaki and takumi respectively next to each other and letting the takes speak for themselves.

Q: I want to know how Mitsurugi spends his day off. The only thing I can think of is watching videos of Tonosaman (The Steel Samurai). (I Love Micchan) Yamazaki: Mitsurugi is always busy, so I don’t think he has much time to relax. But he’d probably listen to classical music while enjoying some black tea. Or he’d focus on the chessboard alone. Anyway, he seems the indoor type.

[x]

Interviewer: I did start to look at Mitsurugi as good guy from Episode 4 of the second game on. It made you acknowledge him as a close friend of Naruhodō. But let's go back to the character profile, what do you think about the "Music" column? Takumi: He might like ppongjjak (Trot), I think. Interviewer: Pp....Ppongjjak!? That comes out of nowhere... Takumi: Classic music would've been too easy and not fun (laugh). So yeah, standing upright listening to ppongjjak. With his personality, I think ppongjjak is possible.

[x]