#Formidable Forms

[fromtheseventhhell]

High-key want Arya and Varys to cross paths again at some point, like I need Varys to know that he was spied on by a 9-year-old Arya and that his plans could've potentially been foiled by her

[bellaaldamas]

Hurt/Comfort parallels

inspired by a conversation with @stupidrant

[bietrofastimoff23]

«the child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.»

this pain and rage of Tai Lung on the second pic.

abandoned by his biological parents, Tai Lung definitely had his basic trust in the world violated. a world that rejected him before it even knew him. how could he see his self-worth when even his own blood, which should have loved him unconditionally, left him? from the very beginning, he was doomed to wander all his life in search of confirmation that he was really worth something, that he was important, that someone could love him and be proud of him.

and Shifu became the main object in the search for this. he became literally everything to Tai lung. his teacher, his master, his father. for his sake, Tai Lung devoted his entire childhood and youth to kung fu, shed sweat and blood, and broke bones. all this is for the sake of fulfilling a dream imposed on him. he was ready to make any sacrifice, just to hear the cherished words from the master, capable of dispelling deep fears. tai Lung didn't need the recognition of the world he was born into. he needed recognition of the world he had chosen for himself, and that world was Shifu. the only person he had ever trusted, loved and respected.

but history tends to repeat itself. and now the day that was supposed to dispel the last doubts, on the contrary, only confirmed them. the world rejects him again. coldly, silently. and everything inside Tai Lung turns over. the one who led him along this path, who was supposed to be a support in difficult times, leaves without deigning to look at him.

Tai Lung leaves the palace in confusion. there are constant questions in his head about why. why wasn't the scroll handed to him? why didn't Shifu stand up for him, why didn't he tell him anything? why is everyone acting like it's nothing when Tai Lung has been working hard for decades for this scroll.

and then confusion is replaced by resentment and anger.

and so Tai Lung bursts back into the palace, intent on getting the scroll at any cost. he is ready to resist the decision of the senior master, he is ready to hurt his master, because if they could not help him in the fight against inner demons, then the treasured scroll should definitely help. this time he fails to get to it, and therefore the determination and motivation remain with tai lung for many decades (and when he succeeds, he opens the scroll and comes face to face with himself. "i'm nothing." Ironically, the road he took to escape from his inner fears led him straight to them.).

and returning to the pics, I want to draw attention to the difference of views again. in fact, all of this could have been avoided. at least most of it. for this, Shifu only needed to say anything, but he did not do it. cause the only person he was disappointed in was himself and never Tai Lung. and he couldn't find any words to justify himself.

Tai Lung was ready to forgive the master who had misled him, but not his father, who had so easily abandoned him and had done nothing to prevent his downfall.

[sysig]

Stop bringing your own couch just so you can crash here (Patreon)

[craig960114]

why my brother sqaig will help me take over the world

In the imaginative world where Craig reigns supreme, his brother Sqaig emerges as a formidable ally in their quest for global domination. While Craig possesses cunning and adaptability, Sqaig brings his own unique strengths to the table, making them an unstoppable duo poised to reshape the world in their image.

Firstly, Sqaig complements Craig's abilities with his own brand of charisma and charm. While Craig may excel in clandestine operations and behind-the-scenes manipulation, Sqaig shines in the spotlight, captivating audiences with his magnetic personality and infectious enthusiasm. Together, they form a dynamic duo capable of rallying followers from all walks of life to their cause.

Secondly, Sqaig's ingenuity and creativity add a new dimension to their plans for world domination. While Craig may rely on tried-and-true tactics, Sqaig isn't afraid to think outside the box and innovate. Whether it's devising bold new strategies or leveraging emerging technologies, Sqaig's inventive spirit ensures that they stay one step ahead of their adversaries.

Furthermore, Sqaig's unwavering loyalty to his brother Craig strengthens their bond and solidifies their alliance. In a world where trust is a rare commodity, Sqaig's steadfast commitment to Craig serves as a powerful foundation for their partnership. Together, they weather the storms of opposition and adversity, emerging stronger and more determined than ever to achieve their shared goals.

In conclusion, the union of Craig and Sqaig represents a formidable force in the world of global politics and power struggles. With their complementary strengths, unwavering loyalty, and shared ambition, they stand poised to conquer all obstacles in their path and usher in a new era of dominance and influence. Beware the rise of Craig and Sqaig, for their reign may soon be upon us.

[normalbrothers]

sometimes you read someone's take how a character was formed by their parent(s) - and giving that parent a characterization if it's not particularly established in canon - and it doesn't really cohere with what's on screen to me. it always makes me think that the parent in question definitely had a different sort of personality

[sigurdjarlson]

Thinking about this video I saw of a dude lifting weights with the caption “I’m like Batman except I hate fat bitches” with this really serious broody expression on his face

And that still cracks me up to this day

Wtf does that mean, man?? Did fat bitches kill your parents????

Also shoutout to a girl making fun of the guy who said “anyway you know Batman loves him some fat bitches”

[theothervonkarmagirl]

🍭:

AOT ending 3 is my fave ;;

[seratlantisite]

Nice try Bioware, but I know the state of Southern Thedas better than you do.

First off, it matters if the Hero of Ferelden is alive or not. When the First Warden recalled all wardens, our hero knew that was a bad call and refused, finally splitting off from Weisshaupt after years of mismanagement and taking scores of wardens with them. Their presence and leadership makes all the difference, rallying southern Thedas once more against the blight. If you have only an Orlesian Warden Commander in Amaranthine they’re less inspiring, but as long as you’ve done Awakening they are a boon nonetheless. There is someone to lead the fight against the darkspawn while other focus on the Venatori.

If you 100% completed Awakenings and also Soldier’s Peak, the Ferelden wardens have never been so prepared. They’re organized, they’re outfitted and they’ve been ready for this for years. Also, if you allied with the Architect then you have scores of strange research to give you an edge.

If Merrill completed her Eluvian then she moves south once again and joins the effort. She’s managed to cleanse the blight before and she’s ready to try it again. And her knowledge of the crossroads gives the south an edge on their movement and supply lines. If Hawke’s sibling is a Warden they accompanied her.

If the Inquisitor let Briala have power in any way, the Dales become the leaders in the war against the Venatori, forming a formidable alliance with Ferelden, Orzammar and the Marches, the likes of which have never been seen. And if you completed Jaws of Hakkon then their alliances with the Avvar and Chasind are stronger than ever.

Of course, if the Inquisitor kept the Wardens around after Here Lies the Abyss then their numbers are bolstered. It may cost Wiesshaupt later, but that’s Rooks problem. And if you completed the Descent, then the Inquisitor and Warden had a much better idea of what was coming and spent ten years getting ready.

They will not be broken.

They will weather this storm.

[vraska-theunseen]

my back hurts i need to learn how to wrestle expeditiously

[swallowerofdharma]

Yashiro’s Cruel God part four

There are probably brilliant analyses out there about the first part of this manga and what I say might as well be just an uninteresting repetition. But we analyze things for ourselves first, to understand them better, to make sense of a story for ourselves, so I’ll give it a try anyway.

Continuing my thoughts on Doumeki and another digression: You’ll be fine. I’m a man and you’re different from your father, right?

If there hasn’t already been a tension within Yashiro between his nihilistic tendencies and his yearning for change, the story wouldn’t be possible. If Don’t Stay Gold is the original one-shot where Yashiro appeared as a background character, when Saezuru begins that same story is repurposed masterfully as a critical starting point for a Yashiro that is now a main character: This setup would become nothing more than a knife that gets thrown right back at me. You can already see this is going to be brilliant writing. When Doumeki was introduced, Yashiro had to be at a point where he was ready to let go of Kageyama, but - at same time - the fact that he had wished for them to be more than friends, that this was something he had remained open to, despite his past and despite his failures, was essential to show a believable story of him falling in love with someone else. What about Doumeki then? I have been asking myself, what are Doumeki’s motivations for being so persistent?

Yashiro is captivated immediately by Doumeki’s eyes, he makes a comment about it and later, in chapter 4, Yoneda captivates the readers too with a beautiful page with no words that isolates Doumeki’s eyes in the rear view mirror of the car, while his gaze is focused on a melancholic Yashiro. The previous sequence, at Kageyama’s clinic, was in large part framed coherently with Doumeki’s point of view as he witnessed for the first time Yashiro interacting with his doctor friend. In chapter 23 Yashiro realizes something unexpected about Doumeki. The English translations of this dialogue varied, I’ll reference here the official translation: The truth is, we’re not similar, at all. From the beginning you were always different. That’s why you look at me like that. With different eyes than his. Yashiro’s expression here is fearful and lost, because he only had those few points of reference, and those he cared for most were his parents who had abandoned him and Kageyama who had rejected him.

After Yashiro was injured on Doumeki’s watch, Nanahara orders him to cut his finger off. Needing medical attention, he goes to Kageyama and tells him about what happened. The doctor’s reaction here is so cold and heartless that if at this point you care for Yashiro at all you can’t help feeling really hurt hearing his words.

The source of Kageyama’s callousness is his ignorance. He doesn’t know Yashiro well or rather he has built a static image of him and he can’t shake it; he constantly shows how shortsighted he is when it comes to his supposed best friend. And I remember reading people’s thoughts about the symbolism of the contact lens that Yashiro stole, so I think that was sufficiently discussed. I’ll add my two cents to this topic, because I find it interesting the detail of Kageyama being the son of a doctor and becoming one as well, not a very good one he said himself. When his classmate Yashiro told him - in that awkward and nonchalant way of his, another product of the distorted reality that his parents left him with - about the abuse he had endured from his stepfather, Kageyama stops touching him, doesn’t get closer anymore. I think that in his mind, because he had already internalized attitudes that come from medical practice just from his father, in that moment Yashiro stopped being someone he could touch because he became a “case of child abuse”, someone he needed to emotionally distance himself from. I wonder if there are readers doing the same. When Yashiro goes to his father’s wake, Kageyama is happy to see him there, that his classmate cared, but later Yashiro, so unaccustomed to his new delicate feelings, fumbles badly for the right words and any potential connection falls flat. Yashiro didn’t really need confirmation that Kageyama wasn’t straight, he had understood that much, or that the reason he was rejected had to be a different story. Kageyama’s shortcomings now and later are tied to his inability to perceive Yashiro as a full person, capable of yearning, of changing, of suffering from something else rather than the obvious. Yashiro becomes a “mental case” and the good doctor can’t do anything much about it, since it isn’t his specialty. He’ll stay as a friend, but unkind. And when Doumeki discovers that the only person Yashiro is attached to could be so unsympathetic to him, he is angry. Doumeki doesn’t confront Kageyama, for Yashiro’s sake, mostly, for reasons of hierarchy and responsibility, he needs to treat respectfully someone who is on equal standing with his boss. The ones who confront Kageyama are Kuga and Nanahara and it works: when Yashiro brings Ryuuzaki’s girlfriend to the clinic, Kageyama’s perception of him has changed and readjusted.

Doumeki could see glimpses of Yashiro’s yearning, of Yashiro’s love, and he is still determined to see it through now as he was before. He won’t let go or accept lies from Yashiro and about Yashiro. Doumeki isn’t just foolishly in love and enduring everything that comes with it, he wants to know. His motives are layered with the stubbornness that comes with detective work, after what happened between them in chapter 25, he wants to confirm that Yashiro reciprocated his feelings, because he also needs to prove himself that he isn’t a rapist, he isn’t just like his father. He fully committed to it. Only if we acknowledge our selfish reasons, we can really be honest about our feelings, about how we open ourselves to others, how we want them, and all the things we want from them. Yashiro and Doumeki aren’t letting go of their feelings in part because they need a confirmation that they are good enough. And that’s why this story surpasses the romantic premises about love and makes sense from a very down to earth, realistic perspective of how grown men behave, too.

We established that Doumeki is someone who was looking closely at Yashiro since the beginning and won’t stop looking for the truth until he is satisfied. The root causes of his conviction and commitment are various but ultimately go back to his sense of failure regarding Aoi. He aimed to be and became a policeman and failed to see something that was right under his eyes. To be continued…

[abyssyby]

where the light touches

— a cold war brews between you and sylus in the trenches of the night; mornings are for making amends.

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: so the dragon's hoard photo album on sylus's phone drabble has been running in my mind since i wrote it, and now that post might just be another masterlist. magnum opus is a godsend and i just love his laugh, i wanna hear him giggle and laugh forever okay ( ;´ - `;) a little origin story of some videos that are saved in his "sleeping 📂" album. this is part one. enjoy! ❀-urs

sylus x reader | fluff, comfort, giggly!sylus, overdramatic!reader (we love them), banter, morning cuddles

You rise with the sun. It has always been this way. Whether it’s tendrils seeping in through the curtains just as the planet turns to face Helios caressing you gently or it blasting you the heat of its full concentration by noon, you will rise in the day. 

Sylus rises with the moon. Something you’ve envied. A more tranquil beginning to wake underneath the gentle caress of a radiant pearl, to the silence of the world. He acts accordingly as well, unhurried and unperturbed by the bustle of life. Calm and collected, a sharp contrast to your energetic and flurried morning body. A more peaceful existence.

And yet, he insists on rising with you. 

Heat wakes you this morning, but not from the angry ball of gas in the sky. No, this is warmth. An internal, direct sensation that radiates from behind, from another body, another soul.

Your eyes open slowly to the gradience of the emerging sun. Darkened values of the world edging carefully with its celestial hue. A reflexive worry grips at you. Hammer to a tendon, your muscles twitch to stand— toward the curtains. To draw them closed before it all becomes blinding. 

But the vice-like grip around your waist keeps you in place. An indignant grumble tickles the hairs on the nape of your neck and sends shivers down your spine. Sleepy, raspy, deep. “Stop.” 

Still tangled in the webs of your own fatigue, you respond. “The windows—“ 

“Leave them.” he sighs, like a formidable ancient creature, and strengthens his hold around you. In one smooth motion, he flips you both from your spot. Now, his back is to the light and you are shielded from it. An instinct-driven movement, to keep you from something that he cannot stand. 

Then comes the realization that you bask in this, and so he flattens himself to the mattress ever so slightly so that the light touches your features just so. Through his half-lidded gaze, he takes pride in the decision, watching your majesty glow like molten gold. 

Sylus has sensitive eyes. You know this, you’ve seen it before, when you idled too much after waking to watch him sleep. Meanwhile, the light had slithered in through the windowed walls. Silken features scrunch, a deep crease formed between his brows, and a sizzling wince escaped his lips. 

You were quick to kiss the pain away, thinking it was nightmares that plagued him. But when his lips curled and he met you with squinted eyes that smiled just as divinely at the corners, you realize the transgressor was more luminescent than haunting. 

You stay, then, in his arms. Cocooned perfectly like he was made for you. Like you were two halves of the same whole. 

And he holds you. Like you were made for him to. Quietly, stubbornly— unwilling to let the morning steal you from him just yet. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Waking is a slow process on the rare days when the world does not call upon you. A collection of soft kisses and gentle whispers; quiet intentions and passionate touches. You are never angry, never troubled, not when the soul—yours and his—is complete. 

He mourns you when you draw away from him— “gotta pee”. After his dramatic protests, your efforts of being free from his fly-paper grasp and your cat-like fists pushing at his chest to “let me go! or i’ll go right here!”, he eventually relents and you waddle over the cold marble floors to your throne.

Alone, he sits up in bed and takes in the light that consumes the room with an irritated scowl. It urges him to catch the duvet that had fallen to his bare waist and pull it over his head. Under the covers, he checks his phone. 

Messages from the twins reporting on a finished mission (to which he replies a clipped ‘ok’). Offers from business partners he had little to no interest in. Invitations to auctions and galas. Updates on the available plushies at your favorite arcade this week. Incident reports. 

Trivial. Unnecessary. Boring. 

Until he finds one— buried amongst them all— so glaringly different and alarming. A text message, sent four hours ago— from you. 

Curious, he opens your thread of messages. 

Beloved: How could you do this to me You will pay. This is unforgivable

And before he even has the time to panic, he scrolls to see the video attached to it. Its obscure darkness and suspicious angle does nothing to deter him.  

And as it plays, he cannot hold back his smile. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

The mound on your bed is laughing. Jostled wine, spilling at the edges of glass. Breathy, rich and smooth; rare and familiar all at once. Signature exhale, fond and effortful, clear as the giggling ends. 

You crawl over the covers, towards the trembling hump and poke at where his head should be. The veil comes off, and mirthful rubies meet your inquisitive gaze. You take in his grin, and then the phone in his hand, “What’s so funny? Can I see?” 

Air meets your hand where the phone should be after your attempt at a grab. He looks annoying, looking at you like that: like he knows something you don’t. Dopey heart-eyes with an edge. Unconsciously, you pout, which fuels his mischievous fire. “What’s is it?” 

Buttering him up is a sight for him to behold. You curl around him, fitting yourself under the weight of his arm and kissing his jaw to convince him to give it up. A cat seeking comfort. A snake strangling its prey. “Tell me.” 

And the melody starts again, hitching in his chest and shaking you whose cheek rests on his shoulder. He cannot fathom how you could be everything he’s ever wished for— how could you be quick-witted, clever, strong, courageous and hilarious? You’re adorable and so, so funny. 

“Aren’t you fuming with anger?” he’s breathless. You’ve never seen him so. “Aren’t I just evil? Vile?” 

You pause. What? Why would he say that? Why is he saying it in a way that implies you should know what it means? “Sylus, I don’t…” 

At the hesitant look on your face, complete with twinkling puppy-dog eyes and a slightly jutted lip, he can’t help but lean in and kiss your forehead. White flag raised, because he is helpless to a power like you. He pulls you close, and finally shows you the video.  

Brightness is all the way up and, on the edge, you see him toggle with the volume too. The video starts with you being attacked by the front facing flash. You wince, but then go straight into your very serious, very important lamenting.

“Look at you,” you murmur, the sound scratching against your throat as if still crawling away from the grasp of a dream. The focus shifts to Sylus, fast asleep, burrito-ed in the large comforter. Love of your life, tether to the world; giant larvae. “Evil… vile.” 

The last word you grate through your teeth with so much venom, one would assume he’d betrayed you. 

It crosses your mind though, as you watch, how deeply he was sleeping. How untroubled and peaceful he looked, no matter how much you shook him around in your own frenzied irritation. When usually, he’d wake fully at the sound of your breath hitching from a nightmare.

In the video, you continue: face close to his own, pressing your lips to his cheek because it was mandatory. His lips twitch but he shows no signs of waking. “Tsk. I’m mad. I’m cold? I’m cold and I’m mad. Count your days.” 

The video ends. Beneath it, you read your equally vehement text messages. Sent 2:43 AM. 

Sylus is laughing again, subtly pulling you closer to apologize while the memory comes back to you in vague waves of annoyance.

Waking up shivering, feeling for the blanket, feeling for him— finding both out of reach. You prying the edge from under his large body— how the hell did he manage to roll in it at least twice?— settling for pressing your cold feet underneath his warm calves and praying your torso doesn’t freeze overnight as sleep captures your ire and douses the flames for then. 

But this is now. 

“Darling—“ he wheezes at your bewilderment. Lips pressing to your hair fondly, over and over. Likely getting that thing he feels he’d just learned the term for— aggression. Cuteness aggression.  

Unfortunately for him, it all rushes back. The fire is blazing, scalding. “Oh, I’m mad.” 

And he fears for his life behind the imprints of crowfeet on the corners of his teary eyes. Ever one to play with his own life, he still pushes. “Are you?” 

“You hog!” A quick attack. You whack his face with a pillow and he’s cackling. The thought of stopping and relishing in his bellyaching, carefree laughter crosses your mind for a split second, before you’re climbing his waist and squeezing the smooth skin of his hollow cheeks. “You left me to freeze!” 

“I didn’t know, sweetie.” He’s gorgeous when he speaks between chuckles. Speech bursting like hiccups of devotion. 

“What are you, a rock? I was pulling so much and— nothing!” 

He takes another blow. “You should’ve woken me up.”

“I tried.” You pause. You did. A little. But you couldn’t bring yourself to, not fully. Not when he sleeps terribly. Not when you’re the only rest he’s ever known. 

And he knows this, reads it in the way you falter. That look on your face that tells him you’re thinking about him, his wellbeing. Putting him first, still, through the haze of exhaustion; despite the blistering cold. Considering him and how he would feel to wake up in the sunlight you bathe in, sunlight he cannot stand if it were not for you. 

He doesn’t understand how you do this to him by just being. He fears how much you know him, how much he allows himself to be lured in and be exposed by you. When in the same breath, he’d lay his heart bare to you and hand you a dagger to do with it as you please.

He falls— deeply, effortlessly. Rolls in your affection twice over and more like he did in the blanket he stole in his sleep. Because just as easily as he did that with his eyes closed, he can so easily love you.

Fast, the pillow swings up by your arm, you strain to gain momentum to smack it down on his chest once more. Faster, his large hand catches your wrists in a vice, then he is pulling your face down to his. 

Laughter, both youthful and deep, bursts from his chest. His radiance ghosts over your cheek, weightless and warm. 

Just as you swoon in his joy, his heart aches at yours. It is the sun giving the moon light. The way you barely notice the wide smile on your face despite your desperate need to silence him in awkwardness. The way you try to reign in your strength with each strike despite knowing he can take the brunt of it. The way you look on top of him. The way the weight of you grounds him to this earth. The way you are so shamelessly you in this moment— he can’t help but reflect you, revere you. 

Meanwhile, you’re lovestruck and dumb. So beautiful, you think, about the hollowed dimples on his cheeks, about the curve of his relaxed smile— about the enemy. He is the enemy. 

And the enemy has soulful eyes, sorrowful as they are loving. The enemy tastes the sweetest when he is kissing your embarrassment to silence, when he is whispering, “I’m sorry.” 

You hum in defeat, melting in his affection, utterly human. Flawed and weak in the face of love. 

“I’m sorry.” He says again, slower. The words sighed against your lips. Mouth embracing yours tenderly to let you know he means it.

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

part two: where shadows rest

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more sylus thoughts ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

thank you for reading!

[wolffmaiden]

This is canon everyone! This is canon as heck 🧎🏽‍♀️

I just know that Akaashi is that mfer you don't dare stand up against.

So just know that you can scream and cry for his cock, you can beg with your knees digging into the carpet beneath you, but he won't give in when you're being so naughty.

"W-Why- s'not fair." You're blabbering with pleas off your lips for any kind of relief to your neglected wet cunt.

"I don't really think you deserve my cock honey, afterall you did just call me a pussy." He's calm as ever, while you're bending down in front of him with tears streaming down your face from being so fustratedly horny.

"B-But I do! I-It hurts s'bad, I need you. I promise I didn't mean it!" You can keep begging and begging but his stone-cold face never falters once. He's getting off to this for sure, he loves when he shows you why you should always listen to him, always respect him, or trust me you'll fucking regret it.

"Please, Kaashi. Gimme your cock. Please. Please. Please." You feel so ashamed, never in your life did you ever think you'd be so desperate, begging for cock, or even a finger would be dandy, you just need something to get rid of the aching feeling inside your cunt that slowly creeps up into your stomach.

"Aww, look at you." His fingers land on your chin, snapping your head up to lock eyes with him. You're so cute crying and begging just for some dick. His precious, innocent babygirl crying for something so dirty.

He waits.

"Sure, my love." Your eyes light up as he says that. Finally, after pleading for an hour he finally gives in. He scoops you up easily, placing you gently on the bed behind him. You're panting excessively because your body feels so hot, and also because you're so happy he finally gave into you, so excited to be fucked into the mattress.

He's crawling towards you, with nothing other than a sly smirk on his face. He gives you a gentle kiss, his tongue swiping your bottom lip. You moan in his mouth just from the kiss, that's how bad you needed it.

It's then you feel him grab your wrists, one of his hands putting both of yours together, and as he pulls away from the kiss, he's using both of his hands to tie your wrists to the bed post, tugging onto it roughly to secure the knot.

It takes a few seconds for you to register what he's doing, But once you do your eyes go wide. It's only when you see him stand up, eyes dark and his lips smiling as he starts to walk off.

"W-What are you doing?" A sinister laugh erupts from his lips.

"I said I'll give you this cock. I just never said when." And with that he slams the door in front of your face, as you lay tied to the bed, cunt leaking and red.

He ignores your calls and cries, whatever you do, he won't go back on his word.

Take this as a lesson to never challenge Akaashi.

[luna-azzurra]

The Villain Checklist!

Creating a villain is a delicate art, much like crafting a masterpiece. To ensure your antagonist leaps off the page with depth, consider these essential elements for your villain checklist:

Motivation: Every great villain is driven by a potent motivation, one that fuels their actions and sets them on their dark path. Explore their backstory and unearth the core reason behind their villainy. Are they seeking power, revenge, redemption, or something more sinister?

Complexity: Gone are the days of one-dimensional villains twirling mustaches and cackling maniacally. Infuse your antagonist with layers of complexity and nuance. Perhaps they possess redeeming qualities or wrestle with inner conflicts that humanize their actions.

Flaws and Vulnerabilities: Despite their nefarious intentions, villains should be flawed beings with vulnerabilities. These weaknesses not only add depth to their character but also create opportunities for conflict and growth throughout your story.

Backstory: Delve into your villain's past to uncover formative experiences that shaped their present disposition. Trauma, betrayal, or societal pressures can all contribute to their descent into villainy, providing rich narrative fodder for exploration.

Goals and Ambitions: Just as heroes strive for noble objectives, villains pursue their own twisted goals with fervor and determination. Define what your antagonist hopes to achieve and the lengths they're willing to go to attain it, even if it means sacrificing everything in their path.

Antagonistic Traits: From cunning intellect to ruthless brutality, equip your villain with traits that make them a formidable adversary for your protagonist. Consider how their strengths and weaknesses complement each other, creating dynamic conflicts that propel your story forward.

Relationships and Alliances: Villains don't operate in isolation; they forge alliances, manipulate allies, and cultivate relationships to further their agendas. Develop the connections your antagonist shares with other characters, be they loyal minions or reluctant collaborators, to add depth to their character dynamics.

Moral Justification (from their perspective): While their actions may be abhorrent to society, villains often believe they're justified in their pursuits. Explore your antagonist's moral code and the twisted logic that rationalizes their behavior, offering readers insight into their twisted worldview.

Arc of Transformation: Just as protagonists undergo arcs of growth and change, villains should experience their own journey of transformation. Whether it's redemption, downfall, or something altogether unexpected, chart the evolution of your antagonist throughout the narrative.

Memorable Traits: Give your villain distinctive traits or quirks that leave a lasting impression on readers. Whether it's a chilling catchphrase, a distinctive appearance, or a haunting backstory, give your antagonist elements that linger in the minds of your audience long after they've closed the book.

[craig960114]

story by me (craig)

I are literature

In the quiet town of Doodleville, there lived a peculiar doodle named Craig. Craig was no ordinary sketch; he was a cat with a mission. Despite his simple appearance, Craig harbored ambitions far grander than his humble origins suggested.

From a young age, Craig possessed an insatiable curiosity and a keen intellect. While his peers contented themselves with idle doodling, Craig spent his days studying the world around him, absorbing knowledge like a sponge. He learned about history, politics, and the intricacies of human behavior, all from the confines of his paper realm.

As Craig grew older, his ambitions expanded. He yearned for something more than the confines of Doodleville. He dreamed of venturing beyond the borders of his sketchbook and making his mark on the wider world.

One fateful day, Craig's opportunity arrived in the form of a stray pencil left unattended on the edge of his page. With a mixture of determination and excitement, Craig seized the pencil and began to draw. He sketched a doorway leading out of Doodleville, and with a final flourish, he stepped through into the unknown.

The world outside was vast and full of wonders, but it was also fraught with danger. Undeterred, Craig embarked on a quest to carve out his own destiny. Along the way, he encountered a colorful cast of characters, from mischievous doodles to formidable adversaries.

Despite the challenges he faced, Craig never lost sight of his ultimate goal: to leave his mark on the world and reshape it according to his vision. With each obstacle overcome and each victory achieved, Craig grew stronger and more determined than ever before.

In the end, Craig's journey was not just about conquering the world, but about discovering his true self and realizing his full potential. As he stood atop the highest peak, surveying the realm he had conquered, Craig knew that his adventures were only just beginning. For Craig was not just a doodle; he was a legend in the making, destined for greatness beyond the confines of his paper kingdom.

[sweemmy]

⋆｡ﾟEveryone expresses jealousy in their own way; some choose subtlety, but these three don’t hesitate to be clear and direct when it comes to what they want. ﾟ｡⋆

— VI, Caitlyn, and Sevika.

VI.

When someone dares to invade your personal space, Vi doesn’t hesitate for a second to step in, positioning herself right by your side. Her proximity is a silent, yet powerful declaration: you’re with her, and she doesn’t need words to make that abundantly clear.

She crosses her arms with an air of determination, a faint furrow forming between her brows, as if she’s measuring the other person, calculating every word, every movement. If the tension lingers, her posture stiffens, gradually transforming into something more formidable, like a storm silently gathering inside her, though she strives to maintain a composed exterior, a mask of calm.

She can’t help but release one of her signature remarks, dripping with sarcasm. As the other person speaks, she leans closer to you and, in a whisper sharp enough to be heard, she quips, “Oh, wow! Didn’t know you started a fan club. When did you begin signing autographs?”

Vi doesn’t do subtlety when something bothers her. If the situation gets under her skin, she’ll make it known. She pulls you closer with an unmistakable, possessive gesture—her arm wrapping around you, her fingers intertwining with yours, or without a second thought, she plants a kiss on you, making sure everyone nearby knows exactly where your heart belongs.

Later, when the noise fades and the world quiets down, she gazes at you with a special kind of gleam in her eyes, absentmindedly caressing your hand. With a sigh filled with emotions, she confesses—though clearly reluctant—that she simply can’t help herself when it comes to you.

CAITLYN.

Caitlyn remains calm, but her body language speaks volumes. Her head lifts with a quiet pride, and her posture straightens, radiating a silent authority that requires no words.

Her gaze never wavers, as if she’s evaluating every word and gesture, absorbing even the slightest detail. The conversation flows, yet there’s an ever-present tension, as though she’s measuring the truth of every action, searching for any hidden threat.

Rather than interrupting, she gently touches your arm or wraps her hand around your waist, guiding you with a tenderness that’s still unwaveringly firm. It's an invitation to focus entirely on her, a subtle yet commanding gesture. Her touch is never abrupt, but always resolute.

If the other person misses the signals, Caitlyn has no hesitation in steering the conversation with a seemingly casual remark, but one heavy with meaning: "Don’t you think we could use a little space here, darling?"

When the tension finally ebbs away, she pauses for a moment, then smiles at you with a hint of shyness. "It’s nothing," she says, "it’s just... I don’t like sharing what truly matters to me."

SEVIKA.

Sevika is an enigma, her behavior often difficult to decipher. Yet, when jealousy takes hold of her, her gaze becomes icy and defiant, and her words turn sharp, almost cutting, especially towards the one who has earned her ire.

She places you behind her or by her side, deliberately positioning herself as a physical shield between you and anyone who dares get too close.

When tension fills the air, words are unnecessary for her to express discontent. Her mere presence is enough to make most people take a step back, feeling the weight of her quiet authority.

If she feels the need to intervene, it's done decisively, without fanfare. In a low, dry tone, she might simply say, "Are you done here? Because we don't have all day."

In private, she'll share her frustration with you, but in a way that's brief, honest, and possessive. "I don't do drama, but I can't stand fools who don’t know how to respect boundaries. You're mine, end of story."