#a decade under the influence challenge

[mariocki]

Susannah: Yes. Yes, he did risk himself. We all did. A lot of it... OK, a bit half-assed but at least... some of it will stick! You have to try. It's not going to work any more, running for the same old burrows... we're rafting off into space - God! Frank sees it. He said to me one day, 'Suse... you know what's going to do for us all? Not the failure of intellect, moral, muscle - but the failure of imagination! They're all too busy with their snouts in the trough to smell the fire.'

Crystal: Yeah, he says some really daft things.

-

Pam Gems, Loving Women (1984)

[illicit-astrology]

What does Pluto in Aquarius Mean for You?

Aquarius Rising: Pluto is in your first house. You will immediately notice the powerful influence you have on people and the polarizing responses you elicit in others. You are about to birth a totally different YOU in the next decade(s). Expect to undergo a slow but sure glow-up over the next two decades.

Capricorn Rising: Pluto is in your second house. Your finances and self-worth will be under a constant growth cycle. The ways you generate or manage your income will forever be changed, as well as where you place your values.

Sagittarius Rising: Pluto is in your 3rd house. Your mindset most importantly, will be forever changed and transformed. You will be able to gain more insights and develop new ways to unlock your full brain power.

Scorpio Rising: Pluto is in your 4th house. Your emotional state and security is about to be put to the test. You will find out what's holding you back from achieving emotional vulnerability and security. Your ideas about where you want to settle and how you want to create a family will completely change too.

Libra RIsing: Pluto is in your 5th house. Your idea of romance and what brings you happiness will change. Your hobbies and creative endeavors will undergo transformation too. You will outgrow most of the things that used to bring you pleasure or happiness.

Virgo Rising: Pluto is in your 6th house. Pluto is here to push you to be serious about your health, habits, and work. You will experience the drawbacks of bad habits or addictions. You will outgrow certain routines, habits, and even work responsibilities.

Leo Rising: Pluto is in your 7th house. Relationships and interaction with people won't be a walk in the park anymore. They will carry a lot of psychological undertones, challenging you to relinquish control, and clear any emotional baggage and outgrow what doesn't work for you anymore.

Cancer Rising: Pluto is in your 8th house. This will be an exclusive invitation from Pluto to dive into its dungeon; your inner psyche. This will mark a heavy introspective but healing period in your life, wherein no action will go unnoticed or uninspected. Your subconscious is alert and is pointing out all your wounds that require healing.

Gemini Rising: Pluto is in your 9th house. This period will bring a lot of esoteric experiences that will change your perspective on life and death. Expect the unexpected. Your religious beliefs will change or you will outgrow certain parts of your moral values and opt for totally different ones. Traveling will be deemed transformational.

Taurus Rising: Pluto is in your 10th house. Saddle up! The career path and how you wanted to come across, no matter how sure you were about it? Yea, that will change. Pluto is here to challenge the parts of you that want to fit into the status quo. Are they real? If not, expect a total 180° change in career path and how you want to relate to the public.

Aries Rising: Pluto is in your 11th house. Your friendships and aspirations will be challenged and changed forever. As well as society's response to you. Be ready to be the outcast in your society or among your friends. This will help you remain true to yourself while attracting those who align with your authentic self.

Pisces Rising: Pluto is in your 12th house. This will be a VIP invitation from Pluto himself to look inward. Periods of solitude will be deemed essential and transformative during this time. If you don't carve enough time for yourself to heal your subconscious and self-sabotaging patterns, Pluto will force you to!

I hope this helps, and as a pluto dominant, please don't fear Pluto, but fear living life UNauthentically! So stay authentic, stay sexy!

[zarameraki]

˖°🦇 ࣪𖤐 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝 ˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mention of suicide 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 unprotected sex 𖥔 bodyguard x senator’s daughter 𖥔 porn with plot 𖥔 banter 𖥔 sarcastic mmc x fmc who’s tired of his bs 𖥔 neck kissing 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 praise 𖥔 soft toji 𖥔 biting 𖥔 nipple play 𖥔 toji’s not an ass for the first time 𖥔 close proximity 𖥔 dirty talking 𖥔 bathtub sex 𖥔 small pillow talk 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut

: ̗̀➛ words: 5.9k

: ̗̀➛ notes: this is my first one-shot and of course it had to be about my favourite unhinged man. i promise it’s good, y’all. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

You hated being the senator’s daughter—burdened by the title you never chose. Despite the grandeur that surrounded you, you despised the life you were born into. The opulent dinners, the endless social events, and the constant scrutiny from the public were chains that bound your spirit.

If you had any spirit left to spare.

You yearned for a life of your own, away from the suffocating expectations that came with your father's political stature. You resented the polished façade you had to maintain, the carefully crafted image that hid your true self. The constant presence of the media felt like an unrelenting spotlight, casting darkness over your desire for anonymity.

The large ballroom was ablaze with sparkling lights and the murmur of conversations mingled with the soft strains of a live jazz band. You found herself at the center of attention, a reluctant participant in the grand social affair, unwillingly cornered by a persistent suitor your mother had chosen from the roster. Apparently, his family wealth and business ventures were the most fascinating topics he could think of.

You wore a forced smile and desperately sought a way out of the conversation. Your eyes darted across the room, searching for an escape route.

". . . you see, our corporation has been at the forefront of innovation for decades," the suitor boasted, gesturing expansively with his hands. "We practically built this city. My great-grandfather was a visionary, and my father has expanded our influence globally. I'm destined to take it to even greater heights."

“How wonderful,” you muttered. The suffocating aura of the suitor’s self-importance lingered in the air. Just as he reached out to place a possessive hand on your arm, a deep, graveling voice cut through the conversation.

“Careful,” warned Toji. His eyes, sharp and vigilant, locked onto your suitor’s hand, which froze in mid-air. “Take a step back, and we won’t have a problem.”

The suitor, momentarily taken aback, withdrew his hand with an affected chuckle. "Ah, my apologies. I was only admiring your bracelet. It's exquisite, really."

You shot Toji a glare as you replied, "Thank you for your compliment. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be returning home now. Senatorial matters to attend to, you understand."

His eyes narrowed, and he attempted to regain control of the situation. "But surely, darling, you wouldn't want to miss the grand finale of the evening. There's a surprise performance that my connections secured."

Before you could respond, Toji stepped forward, a stern expression on his face. "The evening is over, Mr. Mahito. She has other obligations to fulfill."

Mr. Mahito, a name you’d forgotten at his ‘hello,’ glared at Toji but wisely chose not to challenge the imposing figure. With a forced smile, he nodded and said, "Of course, I understand. Until next time."

As if.

Toji couldn't help but scoff under his breath, earning a side glance from you. "Does he ever run out of compliments for himself?"

You sighed. "He's harmless, Mr. Zenin. Just trying to impress, that’s all."

"Harmless, maybe, but annoying as fuck."

You eyed Toji with curiosity. "Why the sudden interest in my love life, Mr. Zenin? Jealousy, perhaps?"

He smirked, a rare hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "Jealousy? Princess, I guarantee you, I'm far too professional for such bullshit.”

You shot him a playful glance. "You know, if you were a little less broody and a bit more charming, you might have a chance."

His facade cracked, and a genuine smile played on his lips, that scar stealing your attention again. "Charm has its time and place.” He opened the back door of the limousine and nudged you inside. “I prefer to keep you safe."

Toji was insufferable just as he was tall. Dressed in a compressed black t-shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and chiseled torso, he exuded an air of quiet intensity. The long, dark tendrils of his hair poked his half-hooded eyes that always carried a mist of amusement. He was a silent guardian who navigated seamlessly between your shadows and the limelight.

You remember the first day your father had introduced your newly assigned bodyguard. All you could do was ogle the devilishly handsome man and pray your father and his security detail didn’t hear you swallow too hard or sit with your legs clenched together.

You appreciated the fact that he was fantastic at his job. At least in the first couple of months. But after you’d started your fourth year at university, Toji practically glued himself to you.

It was like he was your shadow, and you couldn’t escape. You get it, Dad was a senator, and security is essential, but did they have to assign you the clingiest bodyguard on the planet?

You’d gone on a blind date a few weeks back with yet another pretentious finance head, and Toji had himself stationed on the table adjacent to yours. When your date had stepped out to use the bathroom, Toji leaned over the table, and you remember how his biceps had flexed and that infuriating smirk played at his lips.

"Princess," he drawled, using that irritating nickname he's given you. As if being the daughter of a senator automatically made you royalty. "You should smile more. It might help with those lines forming on your forehead."

You hoped he choked on his own smugness.

But then there were those moments when the loneliness crept in, and the isolation became too much to bear. In those moments, his sarcastic banter was a lifeline, a distraction from the weight of your responsibilities. You found yourself craving the very company you claimed to detest.

You caught him smirking as you glanced in the rearview mirror, and for a moment, you forgot about the suffocating expectations, the political games, and the constant surveillance.

It's just you and Toji.

The soft hum of the elevator filled the air as you and Toji stepped into the sleek, mirrored enclosure leading up to your apartment. You looked like you had just stepped out of a battle with a jungle cat. Your eyes, once vibrant, were now shadowed with fatigue, and your normally impeccable hair fell in disarray around your shoulders.

You sighed, the weariness evident. "I can't believe this day. Non-stop meetings, interviews, endless parties, and galas. I feel like I've been running a marathon in heels."

"Well, at least you made it out in one piece, Princess."

You fired him a tired glare. "Don't call me that. You know I hate it."

"Sure thing, Your Highness," he replied, a teasing edge in his voice.

As the elevator smoothly ascended, your legs wobbled, and you swayed slightly. Without thinking, you reached out for support, your hand landing on Toji’s muscular arm. He felt the sudden weight and turned to look at you, eyebrows raised to the roof.

"Whoa there, easy," he said, his voice softer than before.

You blushed an outlandish shade of red. "I'm sorry. I'm just so exhausted. I didn't mean to—"

Toji cut you with a grin, his tone filled with mock concern. "Princess, if you're going to faint, at least do it gracefully. No need to ruin my reputation as the best bodyguard in town."

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile played on your lips. "I'm not going to faint. Just a moment of weakness. That’s possible for even women like me, you know."

He chuckled. "Well, weak moments can be dangerous, especially in this line of work. You never know who might take advantage."

The elevator pinged, announcing their arrival at your floor. You straightened up, a renewed sense of determination in your eyes. "Thanks for the concern, tough guy, but I'll manage." You punched in the key code of your apartment door, the security light flashing green. "You can head home now. I’ll be fine from here."

"Oh, absolutely, Princess. But you know the drill—protocol and all. Can't leave the precious cargo unattended until it's safely delivered to its destination."

Your patience was wearing thin as you turned and brushed chests with the jester in black. “Mr. Zenin, for the hundredth time, I don't need an escort to my front door. I can handle myself."

Toji chuckled, the sound low and teasing. "Sure, sure. But what if a rogue pigeon attacks you on your way in? Or a gust of wind blows too hard, and you lose your balance? It's a treacherous world out there."

“We are indoors. There’s no rogue pigeons or a windstorm.”

Toji wore his stubbornness alongside his pride. “Just doin’ my job.”

You sighed, realizing arguing with him was futile. "Fine, come in if it makes you feel better, but then you're leaving."

"Sure," he said, holding the door open with a flourish as you entered the sterile, monochromatic apartment. From the high ceilings to the marble flooring, it was all your mother’s idea. For God’s sake, it was your apartment. You wanted earthly tones, Persian rugs, and a cat. A European tabby. You have wanted it since the day you were born because being an only child was like living in a house full of ghosts.

Your heels hit the floor with a muted thud, and your shawl cascaded down in a haphazard swirl as you brushed it off your shoulders. You sunk into the plush armrest of the couch, sighing deeply as you closed your eyes, attempting to shake off the fatigue that clung to you like a second skin. You were beginning to regret the three glasses of champagne to tune out tonight’s event.

"So, I’m guessing you’ve got another glamorous night in the political arena tomorrow, huh?" Toji asked.

You opened your eyes, your gaze meeting his, and managed a weak smile. "You have no idea. Sometimes, I feel like I'm caught in a never-ending dance of smiles and handshakes."

He pushed himself off the doorframe and strolled toward you. "Well, lucky for you, I'm a decent dance partner. Just not sure about my smile and handshake skills."

You wanted to tell him he had a nice smile, that the scar really added a touch of mystery to him—a mystery that kept you on your toes. He also had really large hands that you found yourself staring at during meetings or drives.

You ran a hand through your hair, loosening a few strands that framed your face. Toji’s eyes lingered on you, a subtle appreciation in his stare. Without thinking, he stepped in front of you, his fingers gently tucking the stray hair behind your ear.

"You've got a talent for getting yourself into these messes, Princess," he remarked, his voice low and intimate. His touch lingered, brushing against your cheek and then down to your neck. Unintentionally, his fingers traced the soft skin.

Your breath caught, the unexpected contact sending a shiver down your spine. You met his eyes, finding a silver of vulnerability in his usually cheeky behavior. For a moment, the air crackled with an unspoken tension. Toji, realizing the accidental breach of boundaries, withdrew his hand, mumbling, "Got a bit carried away there."

Your tired eyes softened with a mix of surprise and something else you couldn't quite place. "It's okay, Mr. Zenin. Just . . . let's just chalk it up to exhaustion.”

He straightened up. "Yeah, exhaustion. That's exactly it."

Nodding, you stood from your spot and awkwardly patted his shoulder. “You can see yourself out."

He raised a fascinated brow at the gesture, the scar curling up in a half-smile.

As you made your way upstairs to the bedroom, you couldn't shake the feeling of Toji’s calloused fingertips circling from your ear, knuckles softly brushing your cheekbone and down to your neck. The sensation lingered, sending shivers down your spine.

You entered the bathroom, the cool tiles beneath your feet a stark contrast to the warmth building within you, turning on your bathtub’s faucet. The running water drowned out your racing thoughts as you undressed. Your fingers traced the curves of your body, and your eyes, filled with self-doubt, studied your reflection in the bathroom mirror. The image staring back at you was proof of years of dieting imposed by your mother's relentless pursuit of the perfect political image.

You sighed, shoulders slumping, yet the boulders of burden settled upon them refused to fall. As you raised your head, you caught a glimpse of someone in the reflection behind you. “What the f—” A chill ran down your spine as you turned around, heart pounding.

There, in the doorway, stood Toji, his green gaze fixed on your face.

“What the hell are you doing here?" you demanded, wrapping your arms protectively around your breasts, hand covering your lower region.

Toji’s eyes softened, his usual sarcasm substituted by concern. "I heard you talking to yourself. Thought you might need some company."

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "That's not an invitation to barge in!"

“I'm your bodyguard, and part of my job is to make sure you're secure, even if it means guarding you in your own bathroom.”

“I'm perfectly safe in my own bathroom. Besides, you're not my babysitter."

Obviously, he ignored you and took a step closer to the tub, his eyes never leaving yours. He turned off the faucet just as the water was at the perfect level. His hand dipped in the steaming water. “Hot.”

“Oh my god, get out!”

“Get in.”

“What?”

“Get your ass in the tub.”

You rolled your eyes but didn't back down. "I'm not getting into that bathtub with you hovering over me like a hawk."

Toji sighed exasperatedly.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by a crack in his patience. "What's so urgent that you can't leave me alone for five minutes?"

He hesitated for a moment before smirking. "I want to wash your hair."

"Wash my hair?" you echoed.

"Yeah. I heard it's the latest trend in personal security."

You shouldn’t have chuckled, but you did anyway. Everything about this situation had blown out of proportion, escalated from zero to a million, and put an interesting mark on your otherwise professional relationship with your bodyguard.

Toji extended his hand, a silent invitation. You were at his beck and call in five seconds, lowering your hands from your bare body, and not once did he check you out. However, the tick in his jaw and the subtle flare of his nostrils easily gave him away. You accepted his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours—his touch was firm yet gentle. You gingerly stepped into the embrace of the steaming water, sinking low until it covered your shoulders.

Toji wet your hair before squeezing a handful of shampoo into his palm, his hands strong yet gentle as he began to work the lather into your hair. His fingers moved in rhythmic circles, massaging your scalp with a skill that spoke of experience. The sensation of his touch, combined with the warm water, created a cocoon of comfort. The tension in your shoulders seemed to melt away, replaced by a strange but welcome calm.

"Seriously, though, why are you doing this?” you asked. “Bodyguards aren't typically known for their hairdressing skills."

Toji flashed a wry grin. "Rumor has it that a well-groomed princess is a happy princess. Plus, it's in the fine print of the bodyguard handbook—section 37, subsection B: 'Haircare Duties.'"

“But I’m not a princess.”

“Not to me,” he murmured.

As the water streamed down your back, you closed your eyes, surrendering to the tranquility of his caretaking. "Mr. Zenin," you whispered, your voice a gentle hum, "this is a side of you I never knew existed."

He chuckled softly, continuing to pour water over your hair. "I wear many hats, Princess. Tonight, I'm just Toji."

Your eyes opened, meeting his gaze. “Toji.”

He paused for a moment, his hands still in your hair. The only sound was the rhythmic patter of lingering water droplets leaving the faucet. You could feel the shift in his demeanor, a subtle tenseness that hadn't been there before. It was as if the temperature in the room had dropped a few degrees.

He cleared his throat, a nervous habit you had never noticed before. “First time you’ve said my name.”

Oh.

In a daring move, Toji let his fingers linger on your neck, his touch feather-light. Your breath hitched in your throat, or maybe it was his hand curling around your trachea that stopped it. He leaned down, his nose brushing against yours. If he kissed you now, you would never look at your bathtub as a source of taking your own life again. If he kissed you now, you would never look at him the same again. If he kissed you now, you’d drown in it. It would be the only time you willingly would without coming back up for air at the last minute.

Your hand reached up and cupped the back of his head as a green sign. Toji leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. The world seemed to hold its breath as he lingered there for a moment. Then, with a slow and deliberate motion, he parted your mouth with his tongue, seeking permission, and you welcomed him wholeheartedly.

But as quick as the kiss happened, the quicker he pulled back.

“Fuck.”

Your heart sunk.

Fuck, indeed.

Confusion and hurt flickered across your face as you struggled to comprehend the sudden twist in your actions. You hadn't considered the consequences, the potential risks that a romantic entanglement could pose to both of you. The weight of your privilege and his responsibility pressed heavily on both of your shoulders. "Toji, I thought . . .”

He suddenly stood, and you reached out with your hand, grazing his arm, frightened that he was going to walk away and leave you wallowing alone in your guilt. "Well, well," he drawled, the corners of his mouth lifting in a sardonic smile. Slowly, he tilted your chin up with a gentle touch. "I never thought I'd see the day when the senator's daughter would be so desperate for her bodyguard's attention."

A flush of embarrassment crept up on your cheeks, and you tried to pull away, but Toji’s grip on your chin remained firm.

“Desperation suits you, Princess," he continued, his tone light but with an undercurrent of something you couldn't quite place. "But remember, we're playing with fire here."

"You're one to talk, Mr. Zenin. Who kissed who first?"

His laughter echoed throughout the bathroom. "Touché, sweetheart. Touché."

You lowered your eyes, hugging your knees to your chest. “Whatever. You can leave now.”

“Leave? Not a fucking chance.” Toji’s boisterous laugh made you jump. He started taking off his shirt and tossing it aside. “It’s your turn to wash my hair.”

“W-What?”

He responded by unbuckling his belt and lowering his trousers, leaving him in his boxer briefs. Your hands covered your eyes when he was completely naked and incredibly erect. “What, you’ve never seen a naked man before, Princess?”

“Once,” you mumbled. You weren’t a virgin, a secret only you knew. It was during the first-year of university when you’d hooked up with one of your mother’s best friend’s son. Both your families had high hopes of an engagement, but you were against the idea. Thank goodness for that. He’d lasted about five minutes into the sex before collapsing on top of you. It was a painful disaster.

“You just signed a man’s death wish,” Toji said, settling into the tub with you. The water sloshed around him, cascading over the edges of the tub and creating small puddles on the marble floor.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” you whisper breathlessly.

"Taking a bath? Now, now, sweetheart. Don’t be mean." He reclined against the tub's porcelain edge, the water clinging to the contours of his muscular frame. “Why are you so far away? Come here.”

Your body defied your intentions as it glided away from the corner, moving towards him. His left leg extended while the right one bent, with the cap of his knee emerging from the water. Your small hand cradled it, guiding you closer until you were seated just inches away from his erection.

Toji splashed water over your face, causing you to yelp in surprise.

“Toji!”

“Eyes up here, sweetheart.” He tilted his head back, accentuating the chiseled contours of his jaw. His chest resonated with laughter. “You’re so pretty when you blush for me.” His large hand slithered to your nape and tugged you forward, claiming your lips in a feverish, powerful kiss, where his teeth pulled your bottom lip and sucked on it. It frustrated you that, once again, he broke away first, leaving you to whimper. “Turn around. On all fours.”

The questions fizzled out on your tongue. “Are you going to . . .”

“Fuck you?” He arched an eyebrow, the damp strands of his hair swaying in sync with the tilt of his head. “Fuck yes.” His lashes lowered, giving his eyes a dangerously dark glint. “Unless you don’t want me—”

“No!” The words slipped out before you could stop them. “No, I never . . . I want you to.”

“To what?”

Oh, he was really a dick. “I . . . want you to fuck . . me.”

He wet his bottom lip. “How do you want me to fuck you, sweet girl?”

Your chest rose and fell in synchrony with the ebb and flow of the situation. “I don’t know. I’ve only had sex once.”

“Baby, there’s a major difference between having sex and being fucked.”

On cue, your legs instinctively clenched in an attempt to find relief. “Are you clean?”

Toji raked his fingers through his hair and made a spinning gesture with his finger. Your body followed the motion, turning away from him and gripping the tub’s edge. “Wanna know a secret, Princess?”

“Uh, sure.”

The heat emanating from his chest pressed against your back. “I got a check-up the day I was assigned to you.” A sentence that visibly made you shudder. Of course, the insufferable bastard had planned this circumstance ahead. “I knew that sooner or later, I’ll have the senator’s daughter naked and needy underneath me. That I’ll have my cock buried deep within the tight walls of her sweet, sweet pussy, as she milks every last bit of my come. That I’ll watch as it drips out her hole and down her soft thighs.” He extended his arm and delicately lifted the drain plug with his fingers, allowing the water to gracefully swirl away from the bathtub. “I jerked off to the thought almost every night.”

“So, you accepted this job just to get a chance to sleep with me?” Your confidence tanked, and your body prepared itself to leave the tub. “Go to hell—”

Toji wrapped his palm around your hair three times, pulling it taut as he drew you back, pressing you firmly against his chest. ���I wasn’t finished talking.”

“Let me go!”

“Know what I do when I escort you to your apartment, Princess?” He wasn’t gentle with cuffing his hands around your neck, immediately silencing you. “I wait like a fucking dog outside until you’re asleep. Then, I walk back in, clean up around your kitchen and living room because you’re too tired to do your chores, and after playing your maid, I tuck you into bed. I watch you sleep, even letting you hold onto my hand, until the moon exchanges for the sun. And I’ve been doing this for the past six fucking months.” He jerks your head to the side, his glare cold and cutting. “So, no, Princess, I didn’t accept this damn job to fuck you. This was just a side perk.”

"Oh," was all you could manage to say. The mystery behind the polished kitchen sink, the mugs and dishes neatly stowed away, the meticulously organized closet, and the unexpected peaceful nights of sleep settling within you finally unraveled. The source of your newfound stability, one that encouraged you to gradually wean off your anti-anxiety medication, was none other than your bodyguard who, unbeknownst to you, had been quietly tending to your well-being in the shadows.

Toji's gruff voice murmured near your ear, interrupting your contemplation. "You're mine, not only in body but in soul, sweet girl. No one—absolutely no-fucking-one—gets to lay a finger on you when I'm around. I won't let you out of my sight, not even for a moment."

You nod, curving your cheek and giving him a simple, soft kiss. “Will you wash me afterward?”

“Every time.”

“Will you sleep alongside me?”

“Every night.”

“And day?”

“Every day.”

“You promise?”

Toji didn’t answer, and you didn’t want to push the fantasy any further given your roles.

You’d made up your mind and rested your head back on his shoulder, a smile naturally splaying at your lips. “Don’t hold back, big guy.”

Toji kissed the side of you neck and nudged you forward so you were gripping the tub’s edge once again. His calloused, rough hand ran down your spine and settled on one-half of your ass. “So soft here.” He delivered a forceful slap, firmly grasping the flesh between his nails, stretching your skin taut, then spanking you again and again and again until your pussy was practically salivating for his fingers. “Fuck, you’re so wet already, baby.” He spat on his fingers and slipped through the slit of your soaking pussy, circling your swollen clit in fast motions. “When’s the last time anyone’s fucked this neglected pussy? Made you spread your legs and rubbed your pretty, puffy clit?” You moaned and broke into choppy gasps, pushing your ass closer to his fingers. “Your private tutor didn’t teach you a lesson on patience?”

“Toji, please.”

“Shh. I know, I know.” He mocked your desperation, gathering your hair in his fist. “Let’s see how many fingers my sweet girl can take.” Toji drove in two digits before you could blink, a maniacal chuckle escaping him as he skillfully moved them in and out, savoring the sounds of your pleasure-filled cries. “Yes, baby. Oh, yes. One more, okay?” His ring finger forced itself in, eliciting a groan from both of you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He rested his thick fingers inside your warmth for a minute, feeling you clench and suck him in.

“Toji— Too much—”

“Not enough, sweet girl.” He began moving, easily hitting the spot that had your toes curling inwards. “You can take it, baby. I know you can take it.” You proved him by grinding back on his palm. “That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck yourself on my fingers. Such a good girl.” The squelching sounds crowded the bathroom, your release seeping out of you without you knowing. You cried out as he relentlessly thrusted his digits, gathering your sticky mess on his fingers and bringing it to your lips. “Taste how sweet you are.”

Your mouth covered his slick, white-coated fingers, tongue wrapping around them and suckling them deep towards the recesses of your throat. The sounds of you gagging made him grunt and sink his fingers ever further before pulling them out abruptly, strings of your saliva and release bridging the space in between.

Toji, with a sly grin, licked his fingers clean, shooting a playful wink at your flushed and flustered demeanor. “Delicious.”

Arm around your waist, Toji easily carried you back and turned you around so you were facing him, straddling his sturdy thighs. A rugged exhale escaped his lips, akin to someone who had endured a grueling day of manual labor. With muscles flexed, he extended his arms on either side, creating a protective barrier around the edge of the tub.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, drinking in your figure.

“Thank you.”

“No, baby. You don’t say “thank you” to me if I compliment you. You say “I know,” and move the fuck on.” He rubbed his hand up and down your thigh, cupping the side of your waist. You jumped when he flicked at your stone-hard nipple. “You’re sensitive there, huh?”

You mumbled, “Everywhere.”

“Speak up, sweetheart.”

“Everywhere,” you said with a volume that made him tip his head back and study you through the hooded slit of his eyes. “What you did, with your fingers, it felt good. Really good.”

“I know,” he replied, winking. “Want me to make you feel fucking fantastic, sweet girl?”

You nod, anticipating his next—

“Sit on it,” he said languidly.

“What?”

“Sit on my cock, Princess.”

He truly had a way with his words.

And you had grown accustomed to them.

Rising on your knees, you stumbled forward and aligned yourself on his ramrod erection, white beads of pre-cum leaking from the pink tip. He gripped the base of it, allowing you to sink down on his long, girthy length.

“Shit,” he breathed out, head lulling back.

“You’re—You’re too big.” The words strained out of you as you sought a comfortable position to move in. “Oh, God. Toji, I don’t think—”

He swallows your following words with his lips, cradling your flushed face in his hands. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. “It’s okay, sweet girl. Get yourself comfortable because, in a minute, I’ll make you forget the word ever existed.”

“Oh, God.”

“Toji, baby. The name’s Toji. Fucking say it.”

“T-Toji . . . ”

He lowered his head and grasped your left breast, fondling it like a stress ball as if his stress levels were beyond the roof. You mewled when he pinched your nipple and stretched it out, heating it between his fingers. His lips latched onto your right breast, cheeks concaving as he sucked hard.

You were a lost cause at that point, watching him nibble the swollen bud between his teeth, giving you that devilish smirk. “Fuck, baby. Your nipple tastes so sweet.” His tongue circled around it, pulling it taught in his mouth. “Maybe I should make you a mother just so I get to taste the milk that’ll leak from them.”

“You’re so dirty,” you whispered, ignoring the sudden film reel of you and Toji and your children gathered around a Christmas tree in an apartment smaller than this, in a life quieter and more private than yours. You needed clinical help.

“I know you’re thinking it.” He released your nipple with a pop and kissed your lips. “Soon, sweetheart.”

Soon?

Toji didn’t allow you to overthink anymore before grappling your ass and raising it high off his cock, until only his tip remained in you. “Hold on tight.”

He pounded you down.

You yelped and stabbed your nails into his shoulders, shouting out, “Fucking hell!” which, obviously, made him burst out laughing, all while ramming you down on his cock, burying himself to the hilt.

“Toji—ah!”

Tears streaked down your cheeks, which he quickly wiped away with his tongue, kissing each eye as if it were your mouth. He thrusted up into you in a staccato rhythm, gripping your nape to keep you steady in place. Your high-pitched whines and empty complaints fueled him to push both of your limits.

“Don’t let this get to your head,” Toji gritted out, a layer of cockiness in his voice, “but I’ve never once fucked anyone in this position.”

Well, that made you feel special, you supposed.

Actually, it made you want to try harder to please him. If you did well tonight, you could try every position in his book. So, you pressed your hands against his pecs and swirled your hips in circles, slowing his thrusts so you could take control. He was fascinated by your body, by your sudden superiority, settling his hands on your waist while you rode him insistently.

“Look at you riding my cock, baby,” Toji muses. “Look at you go. Just like that, come on. I know you can move faster.” He admired the movement of your breasts, the sweat-beads that crystallized on your skin, how your drowsy eyes rolled to the back of your head. You felt his cock twitch uncontrollably within your hot, sticky walls, felt the thick tip of it penetrate the spot that pushed you to the precise of your orgasm.

But your exhaustion caught up to you faster than your climax, causing your body to grow limp and slump against his chest. Toji embraced you, settling one hand on the back of your head and the other on your ass.

“You did well, baby,” he whispered into your hair.

“Don’t lie to me. You didn’t come.”

“Neither did you.”

You nuzzled your nose in the crook of his neck, circling your shaky arm around his strong neck. “I’m close, Toji. I’m almost there. I promise.”

That’s all it took for him to drive back up into you, grunting expletives and praises in your ear—fuck, oh, fuck, ah, fuck, such a good girl, my sweet fucking girl, oh, your pussy is so tight, so pretty, made just for my cock—while holding you flush against his sweaty chest. You kissed his temple and clutched his hair, breathing in the scent of your lavender-honey shampoo and his natural musk. He continuously mumbled, “Come on, baby, come on. Come for me. Come on my cock, sweet girl.”

And you did. With a cry that hitched in your throat, with your nails dragging down his shoulder blades, with his teeth sunk into your neck, with your bodies sweat-struck and panting like wild horses.

Toji drew you back and ran a hand on your cheek, brushing away the damp strands sticking to your cheek. “Good?”

You breathed out through your open mouth, the organ inside your chest hammering to break out. “Fan . . . tastic.”

He smiled warmly, not the arrogant-cocky kind you were used to receiving, and pressed his lips to yours. No tongue, nothing. Just a simple, chaste kiss. “Time to wash up, Princess.”

Switching from the tub to the shower stall, you began to wash Toji’s hair with your lavender-honey shampoo. You anticipated his complaints, but all he did was sit silently on the seat, using a loofa to clean your body. He complimented the curves of your figure, even taking a sneaky nip at your breast, then chuckling at your reaction. Like a gentleman, he dried off your wet body, combed through your wet hair as he blow-dried it, and then it was his turn, but of course, he forced you onto his lap while you did.

“How’d you get this scar?” you asked as you two lay in your bed, naked with your limbs tangled with each other. For the past hour, all you’ve done is trace your finger over his brows, his sharp, pointed nose, and his lips. “You don’t have to tell me—”

“Family. That’s all.”

“Okay,” you whispered, snuggling your face under his jaw and wrapping your arm around his torso as far as you can.

“You’re clingy, aren’t ya’?” he teased, hooking your leg over his hip.

“Was I too out of character for you, Mr. Zenin?”

You felt his smile on your crown accompanied. “You’re not a character, Princess. You’re a real person.” His hug around your sore body tightens as if you’re about to escape any minute. “It’s overwhelming how real you are, Y/N.”

“Did you just call me by name?”

He raised a brow, voice laced with charming sarcasm. “Was I too out of character for you, Y/N?”

Your hand cupped his cheek, stroking the scar by his lip. “You’re perfect, Toji.” You kissed the wound, the middle of his lips, and the tip of his nose for a good measure.

“Stop acting cute and sleep, Princess. You’ve got a tea party in the morning.”

Groaning, you decompress in his hold. “Goodnight, Toji.”

“Night, sweet girl. Dream of me.”

“You, too.”

“Always.”

[superfallingstars]

Jily circa 1977, for @moonstainn's marauders era 70s outfit challenge! I had sooo much fun with this - I think this is the first time that James has made an appearance on this account, and I actually based his shirt and jacket on a photo of my dad in the 70s, which was super fun. Love a contrast stitching moment!

The other reason this was so fun is that I'm like one of those annoying historical fashion people but only for like, the 70s thru 90s, lol. I think late 70s fashion can sometimes get lost in the shuffle between the groovy early 70s and the neon 80s, so I really wanted to showcase it here, since that's the era in which James and Lily come of age. From what I've seen, late 70s fashion is less bell bottoms and fringe, and more cuffed jeans, knee-high boots, and furry jackets with big shoulders (perhaps a precursor to the shoulder pads of the 80s...?).

I can't resist rambling on about this, but I'll do everyone a favor and put it (as well as all of my references/inspo!) under the cut:

These are street style pics from 1977 London, taken by Derek Ridgers, and they're such a big influence on how I imagine Lily. You can see that the styles are starting to shift from the hippie fashion of the late 60s/early 70s – at this point there were a lot of these huge fuzzy jackets, cowl neck sweaters, layered zip-ups, and knee-high boots under midi skirts.

A few photos of some women whose fashion specifically inspired me for this drawing. The top row is all Kate Bush – there are a ton of photos of her from around this time and she looks quite similar to how I imagine Lily – and she rocks those tall boots (+ midi skirt combo). The bottom row is Isabelle Huppert (who I have considered as a time-accurate Lily fancast lol, although I'm uncertain of the exact dates of these photos). Her jacket in the first pic definitely inspired me for Lily, and I don't think I've ever seen someone look so cool in a scarf before...!

The other big trend I noticed (from looking through a million pictures of bands I like from this time) is the proliferation of cuffed jeans! What was up with these giant cuffs? Once I started looking for them, I noticed them everywhere. Tbh they're a nice way to add a fun little extra detail to a character's outfit. And I must mention that in the second photo (featuring the Buzzcocks), the guy on the right (John Maher) is pretty much EXACTLY how I imagine James to look. There's like no other pictures of him in those glasses tho! So unfortunate.

Anyway! I adore 70s fashion, and even though there are definitely similarities throughout the whole decade, late 70s fashion has its own unique trends that I hoped to bring some attention to here. Especially because it's basically the golden age for Marauders fans lol. Of course this is not comprehensive (far from it!), but I wanted to share my thoughts, and I hope it was at least a little informative or inspiring. Thanks if you made it this far through my rambles :-)

[amymbona]

Challengers - the band

Among equally famous Arctic Monkeys or Gorillaz, fans have got nuts over the quickly rising indie band formed in 2006. Challengers consists of three uniquely charismatic members, each one equally as genuine, and yet they all fit together like pieces of puzzle, creating a what fans appreciate as the trio of the decade.

Fitting into the genre of pure english indie, the trio doesn't fear to bounce into the world of rock or deliver a heart-touching ballad, so versatile that it appears unbelievable to many. The critics deem Challengers as an immortal piece of music that will continue to live on and be appreciated decades into the future. Even the thirsty fans seem to agree.

Tashi Duncan

The frontman - in this case the front lady - carries the aesthetic part, providing a gentle caress with each of her smiles, known widely by her fair amount of dark toned lipsticks and pairs of leather pants. As the main vocalist, her voice is heard in most of the songs, and she is essentially the voice of the band.

The gorgeous grace with which she carries herself can hardly he matched, and by many, Tashi is often refered to as the bitch, which takes away from the beauty of her soul. Contrary to a popular belief, Tashi Duncan is a gentle human - a fact supported by all the fans that have met her - as she never misses an opportunity to hug a fan or sign a paper.

A sex symbol, often compared to Amy Winehouse or Fiona Apple, she's often reduced fo a pretty face - much to her fans' disappointment. The talent she possesses is nothing short of a gift, given to her by gods above, and certain female singers have expressed both their jealousy towards and support to the star.

Art Donaldson

Known as the people's sweetheart, the most one could spot of Art Donaldson is the messy mop of his curls peeking from behind the drum set. With often admired set of muscles - which many female fans attempt to grasp once the drummer ventures in public - it's no issue for him to be pounding into the drums and cymbals all night.

His steady beats offer a stable background to all of the band's songs, resembling the rhythm of our heartbeats. But the man who's been named as the best drummer of the current music wave is much more than that.

It's no secret that Art Donaldson does most of the songwriting, providing his fans an insight to his soul, which doesn't resemble the harshness of his clothing style at all. Upon further observation, it's clear that most of the lyrics are centered around love, affection, eroticism and gut-wrenching feelings. This gentle compassion, paired with a cute smile, makes Art the most wholesome face of the genre of indie.

Patrick Zweig

This man is not famous just for his pretty face, though it is the feature he is the most recognized for. With the electric guitar constantly glued to his hands and the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old, Patrick Zweig jumps from one side of the stage to another. Some might say he is a bad influence, supported by the handful amount of evidence of nicotine and alcohol induced behaviour.

Known for his unrealistically swiftly executed guitar riffs, Patrick is the one to transform the ideas into music, as the band itself has mentioned. Most of the early hits were made purely under his supervision, which helped set the initial direction the band would evolve in. Perhaps he is the one we should thank for having Challengers become real.

It was particularly Patrick who stole the hearts of many young ladies, successfully earning himself the title of the womanizer. Multiple women were spotted leaving the Zweig residence over the last few months, wearing evidently less clothing that they entered the luxurious villa in. As the most extroverted and publically followed member, Patrick Zweig might as well be the loudest element of the three-man band.

[eliotbaum]

Them³. 

Some people expressed interest in the backstories & relationship between these characters so it’s under a cut. Beware, it’s full of Vallaki spoilers and. very long……. 

Lydia Petrovna/Fiona Wachter/my pc Father Dunant

Alright so, a not-so brief overview of each individual’s background and where their stories meet. Mind you, that is everything I currently know about the characters, and I'm pretty sure Lady W is still hiding something.

Lydia Petrovna has always been a frail, meek-hearted woman, but with a kind soul. For what she lacked, her best friend from ever since made up for it; Fiona Wachter was everything she ever wanted to be. Strong, assertive and with force of will. 

But Lydia also desired her in a different way, one that went beyond friendship and admiration. Fiona was not aware of those feelings and pursued Nikolai, while Lydia fell for Vargas, despite Fiona’s warnings and wishes for her not to do so. It fell on deaf ears, as Vargas seemed like a genuinely kind man. Suffice to say to those who played the game: the good qualities Lydia loved disappeared over time and he ended up emotionally abusing her, smothering her in a way where she completely lost who she was. Lydia was always desperate to help others despite her constitution and lack of powers or influence, so she thought putting on a bright face and encouraging the "all will be well" ideology would suffice. But she suffered greatly under it, too, coping with solitude and drug/alcohol abuse. Regardless, she kept holding onto hope, believing a better tomorrow will come one day. 

Vargas growing more paranoid of everyone ended up manipulating Lydia into believing Fiona and her husband were not to be trusted. And with Lydia’s facade steadily replacing what Fiona loved about her, ultimately drove the friendship to a breaking point after decades.

Fiona Wachter received a prophecy from an oracle (Madame Eva) while she was a young lady. The prophecy foretold of an outsider coming into Vallaki to bring great ruin, but his blood would also bring back sunlight to the town. She believed in this prophecy ever since, all the while pledging allegiance to Ravenloft as a family tradition, which earned her conflicting powers. On one hand, she could perform miracles and harm with radiance, on the other she received darker powers from her pledge. As such, she is also caught between two fronts — wishing for sunlight to shine upon the lands again while serving Ravenloft as is her family tradition. (This is something my PC challenges her with a lot)

This was all kept secret from her best friend as Fiona had always been a cautious woman. Fast forward to her strained relationship with Lydia that broke apart during Nikolai's early death. 2 years before the campaign starts, he died of an illness, and when Fiona turned to Lydia for comfort she didn't receive it. Lydia pretended like everything was fine still, and tried to deflect any mourning or sadness with Vargas’ messed up ideology. Suffice to say, Fiona felt betrayed, bereft, in more ways than one. And then, her daughter, who was to be betrothed to Viktor Vallakovich, Lydia's son, went mad after prolonged contact to Viktor. Fiona went scorched earth and planned an assassination on Vargas ever since.

In comes my lil guy! Father Kasper Dunant, a humanitarian priest always striving to be virtuous, to be of help, but who leaves calamity in his wake for whenever he tries to do good. Up to a point where experimentations with blood healings destroyed his hometown, (if this sounds like Bloodborne. big inspo haha) and he fled — only to get trapped in another ruinous and cursed place. In Vallaki, he helped with the St. Andral church and Father Lucian, Lydia's brother. Vargas also took a liking to him, which resulted to Kasper and Lydia growing closer. He was attracted to her gentle heart, her kindness he found beyond her facade. They became light in each other's darkness. 

Meanwhile, Fiona Wachter invited him & the party, intrigued by hearing of outsiders. She had hoped they could be part of her prophecy, and she intended to more or less rope them into her assassination plans. Now this being conflicting with many values and relationships our characters built, the party took a "safer" angle, in which we removed the biggest threat (general Strazni) from town and saved townspeople during riots following the assassination; Lydia being among those saved, who they hid away at the Martikov’s tavern. Lydia, who had fallen for Kasper early on, held onto him as she had lost almost everything (Vargas assassinated, Viktor teleported away) and they both found new hope, comfort and love in eath other. 

And in a way, Fiona also freed Lydia of the shackles of her abusive marriage.

Fiona would've taken charge of Vallaki had it not been for Kasper's suggestion to establish a council instead of a single ruler. Consisting of him, Fiona, Vasili (completely different character in our game and not secretly, yknow), a homebrew NPC and Ireena. Fiona and Kasper started to develop this dynamic of push and pull, feeling for how much they can trust and work each other with their opposing views in terms of politics and Ravenloft. But they had one moment where they forged a bond; Kasper, a blood cleric, summoned a mock sun through 'Daylight' for her (my flavor is that he spills blood for some spells). 

Voila, exactly what her prophecy foretold. She understood it wasn't real, but Kasper promised her to bring true sunlight back to Barovia. In a moment of fervor, Fiona suggested they could rule the town, the country together.

They are still very cautious but enjoy the tension and mystery they have about each other. Lydia, in the meantime, has been growing conflicting feelings about Fiona. While she was certain old feelings have been put to rest, the things Kasper tells her of Fiona seemingly awakened something again. There's a lot of guilt and hurt there, though, muddled with affection, and Lydia is sorting out her feelings still.

Meanwhile, Fiona still resents Lydia for her weakness. It was always clear how much Fiona cared for Lydia, repeatedly challenging her to put down this mask, to be herself again. And being hurt by seeing her friend lose herself so easily.  It's bitter, but Kasper has been meekly trying to calm the waves, to little avail so far. 

It is, A Mess to say the least, and Kasper together with Lydia have been growing concerns and worry for Fiona’s safety and ultimately, herself, since she changed so much, became so much darker since her husband’s death. But those two idealists hope there is still a chance to save her 🥺💦

tl;dr young outsider priest becomes entangled in noblewomen’s personal drama while both believe the gods and fate has sent him their way as he tries to mend a broken relationship 

[gayou01]

Astrology observations I made pt 22 (SPICY EDITION)

DISCLAIMER- Placements will not play out the same way for everyone and having challenging placements + aspects does not mean that you are a bad person or that you will have a bad life. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t

-women with cancer Venus and Mars tend to have very sensitive breasts and like when their partner touches them

-Virgo Venus and mars natives being analytical works really well for them in the bedroom because they will quickly learn your body and how to fuck you

-people with mars-pluto aspects tend to enjoy inflicting pain and playing with weapons in the bedroom

-people with mars in Pisces are so gentle and attentive in bed whether it’s your first or 100th time with them. If you’re having a one night stand with a Pisces mars, the way they touch and kiss you would make you think they actually have feelings for you

-people with Mars in Aquarius, Sagittarius and Gemini tend to switch positions a lot during sex. Keeps things exciting

-People with Mars in Capricorn have a lot of stamina. When you think they’re done, they’re not and it’s almost impossible to make them stop sometimes

-having a Mars-Neptune aspect can indicate that you enjoy sex more when you are under the influence

-having a mars-Saturn aspect can indicate being into edging and orgasm denial. Delayed gratification is your thing

-people with mars and/or Lilith in scorpio have sex like they haven’t had sex in decades even if they literally fucked the day before. That’s how intense their passion is

-people with mercury aspects with pluto and/or mars may have degradation kinks and get especially turned on when their partner cusses

[colleendoran]

The Secret Language of a Page of Chivalry: The Pre-Raphaelite Connection

Adapting Neil Gaiman’s Chivalry is a decades-long dream fulfilled. The story as text can be enjoyed on multiple levels, and so can the art. You look at the pages and see the pretty pictures, but the pictures also have meta-textual meaning. Knowing this secret language adds to the experience.

Some people pick up the references quickly, but I’ll share with you some more of what’s going on under the surface.

In Ye Olden Days of Art Making, most painters made pictures that contained visual narrative cues. Flowers in a picture might be heraldic signs that signaled political affiliations, or could indicate purity, anger, or love. Purple was the color of kings. A dog in a picture might represent faithfulness, and butterflies could represent the soul.

There are Pre-Raphaelite paintings with so many symbols and ideas in them that you need a deep working knowledge of Victorian and Edwardian social mores to understand what’s going on.

For example, Ford Madox Brown’s Work, a painting which took some 13 years to complete, was first exhibited in 1865 with a catalogue explaining all its symbols and elements. There is nothing in that picture that doesn’t mean something.

I brought some of that visual meta-textual sensibility to Chivalry, (and I’ve written about the symbolism and meanings in the work in other essays.)

I also brought into the work direct Pre-Raphaelite art references.

From 1868-1870, Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones created four paintings illuminating the tale of Pygmalion and Galatea, entitled Pygmalion and the Image, and wrote a poem with each line titling one painting:

The heart desires

The hand refrains

The godhead fires

The soul attains.

A perfect little poem for Chivalry, and I think of it often when some people present me with what I think is a very strange question: why didn’t Galaad just take the Holy Grail from Mrs. Whitaker?

It kind of breaks my heart that people would even ask that.

Burne-Jones painted two versions of this series of which this is the second.

In the first panel of this page, Sir Galaad kneeling before the Grail is derived from the figure of Pygmalion kneeling before Galatea: The Soul Attains.

Sir Galaad’s restraint even in the face of his greatest desire makes him worthy of his prize.

There are two Pre-Raphalite references in this page, the most obvious being in panel 2: it’s Sir John Everett Millais’s 1857 work A Dream of the Past: Sir Isumbras at the Ford.

The painting was very poorly received on first exhibition, compelling Millais to redo significant portions of it. It was caricatured and ridiculed, and then ended up becoming influential and popular, and isn’t that the way it goes.

That’s an art career in a nutshell, really.

The Sir Isumbras image also influenced John Tenniel’s illustrations for the Lewis Carroll Alice in Wonderland novels.

Sir Isumbras derives from a 13th century Medieval romance poem about a good knight whose pride causes him to fail in his Christian duty. He is presented with a series of difficult challenges before he can find happiness again, reunite with his family, and be forgiven his sins. The painting by Millais is based less explicitly on the poem than it is on a later parody of the poem. (It’s complicated.)

My using Sir Isumbras as the base for the shot of Galaad with the children is obvious here. In the Millais painting, Sir Isumbras carries a woodcutter’s children across the ford. In Chivalry, Sir Galaad carries the children of Mrs. Whitaker’s neighborhood down the street.

While Sir Isumbras spent many years learning humility and Christian duty, Galaad has a long quest to fulfill before he can achieve his goal. And on the way to that goal, he’s humble and nice to children, too.

That the Millais painting was such a huge influence on many a depiction of knighthood over the years made it a perfect reference point here, and the story behind both the painting and the poem give it further layers of meaning.

The next panel has a far less obvious reference, but the source is Arthur Hughes’s painting The Rescue.

Arthur Hughes is one of the lesser-known Pre-Raphaelites, but his art is widely seen and influential. He’s certainly been a big influence on me, as many of his paintings appear again and again in Arthuriana references, as he was a prolific King Arthur picture tale teller.

The Rescue (1907-1908) was originally part of a diptych which was separated and sold back in the 1920’s. His style was becoming unpopular by the time Hughes painted the work, and little is known about this work except that one panel was in the collection of Andrew Lloyd Webber at some point. Maybe still is. Dunno.

Anyway, the diptych depicts a little child kneeling in prayer menaced by a dragon in one panel, and in the next, safely trotting away with a knight on horseback. I like that this is a diptych, a kind of proto-comic art form common in medieval religious art, so this was perfect to use here.

Another reference to Arthur Hughes is in this double page splash from later in the book as Galaad on his quest encounters the Hesperides.

I didn’t set out to reference this Arthur Hughes piece at first, but it’s one of my favorite paintings. When I realized my sketches for this scene kept echoing the Hughes composition, I went with it. The Hughes painting of Galahad is one of the most famous depictions of the character, so it makes me happy to have this referenced in Chivalry.

Kindly ask for CHIVALRY, published by Dark Horse Comics in the USA and by Headline Books in the UK at your local comic shops or bookstore. Written by Neil Gaiman. Adaptation and art by me.

For further reading on this project, go HERE.

HERE.

And HERE.

Thank you to my Patreon patrons for sponsoring my work and this post.

Colleen Doran Illustrates Neil Gaiman will be a solo exhibit at the Society of Illustrators in New York City this spring. Watch this space for updates.

Have a wonderful holiday season.

[multiplicity-positivity]

Here’s some positivity for systems who struggle with addiction and/or substance abuse!

Lots of systems may find that substance abuse or addiction is a part of their lives. Those of us with mental illness, neurodivergence, little access to a good support network, and few treatment options may turn to substance abuse as a way to cope, and subsequently become addicted. Regardless of your situation, all systems deserve love and respect, even those of us who struggle with addiction and/or substance abuse. This post is for those systems!

☀️ Shoutout to systems who have struggled with addiction for many years or decades!

☁️ Shoutout to systems who want to get help for their addiction, but are scared, nervous, or don’t know how!

🌈 Shoutout to systems with headmates who are addiction or substance abuse holders!

☀️ Shoutout to systems who are in recovery! We know it’s hard, but we believe in you and are rooting for you!

☁️ Shoutout to systems who have joined or want to join a step program or some other kind of recovery group!

🌈 Shoutout to systems who are addicted to something that is usually considered non-addictive!

☀️ Shoutout to systems who are not interested in or ready to stop or curb their substance abuse - you get to make your own decisions regarding your own recovery!

☁️ Shoutout to systems who are in therapy or otherwise are receiving treatment or care for their addiction!

🌈 Shoutout to systems with plurality or headmates that formed due to addiction or substance abuse!

☀️ Shoutout to systems with a familial history of addiction or substance abuse!

☁️ Shoutout to systems who are currently sober, are trying to maintain sobriety, and/or who keep track of how many days, weeks, or months they have been sober!

🌈 Shoutout to systems who have recently relapsed - relapsing does NOT invalidate your recovery journey in any way, shape, or form!

☀️ Shoutout to systems who are currently under the influence or who have abused a substance recently - your life still had value and you matter, no matter how inebriated you are!

Friends, we know how difficult, painful, confusing, and all-consuming it can be to struggle with addiction and substance abuse. Please know that you are not alone - we see you and we understand the challenges you’re facing! We care about you and we want to support and uplift you however we can. Your system has worth, your voices matter, and you still belong in our spaces just the way you are, no changes necessary!

We hope you can do your best to take it easy today. Please don’t judge yourself to harshly and try to show yourself and your system some kindness and compassion! Everyone’s relationship to substance abuse, addiction, sobriety, and recovery looks different. Know that it’s okay to take things one day, one hour, or one minute at a time. We love you and we are wishing you the very best in all that you do, whether or not you are sober or in recovery. Thank you so much for reading, and take care!

[sunnysunsins]

Since recently everything here has been taken over by dipshits who lack media literacy, i will come back here to say - RWBY is a good show. It is good. It has good story and good writing and good characters. Does it have stumbles and limitations? Of course, like everything else ever created. Is it the real reason yall are dedicating your lives to religiously following and picking apart every detail to find something, anything, to hate on and make it your whole personality? Nah.

Yall are just pissy your hc wasn't canon. And i'm only half-joking.

Yall are just stuck in the expectation of "cute girls in school fighting monsters and baddies", which it hasn't been for almost a decade. Let Beacon fucking die already, it was the most boring part of the story anyway. If you like it so much, watch.. idk, high guardian spice. Or maybe my hero academia, it has godawful writing too with your favorite Adam-like and Ironwood-like archetypes you adore so much.

And if you didn't click off already in hissy rage, and want to challenge me on the writing point:

Yall are complaining about pacing, characterization lacking, skipped development, insert some other reason, how "show went to shit after volume 3". Well, newsflash, look back at volume 1. REALLY look at it, without your nostalgia boner.

How, in what actually can fit into 3.5 full-length episodes, it skips a whole semester with only a few moments shown in like 3-8 minutes. Notice how Ruby and Pyrrha interacted like 2 times in 3 volumes total. Ruby and Penny? Yeah, they barely interacted too. Ren hasn't talked to rwby girls at all aside from ensemble scenes.

Too many characters in later volumes? Honey, 1-3 had SO many pointless grunts and you ate them up. The whole Vytal festival was filled with them.

Can you tell me the plot of volume 2 from the top of your head? Yeah, me neither. If i think maybe i can remember there was a mecha fight, a dance and a train, but beyond that what was the point of that entire volume again?

Your favorite, pedestalled, volume 3, most of which is fighty-fighty filler and the only stuff you actually remember when jizzing your pants about it is last 3 episodes.

Most character interactions and development happened after Beacon arc. Most actual plot and bigger story happened after it too. Yall are stuck circlejerking to *filler*, setup, which only purpose was to show the status quo to later destroy it and start to show the real picture.

Do you know why v4 and 5 feel so empty and missing something? Sure, juggling multiple plots gave it's pacing issues too, but it felt empty because there were no side characters to fill out the world and make it feel alive. V5 cast was so tiny it felt like nobody interacted at all. Because there were none of those "extras" yall hate on so much. The extras make the world feel real. Which is why Atlas feels alive when Mistral wasn't.

The most complaints about later volumes are chucked down to lack of media literacy and nuanced reading of situations and characters. Translated for your easier understanding: the writing was too nuanced for your "cute girls go fighty fighty brrr" brain to comprehend. Sometimes things require you to put the situation into character perspectives. Sometimes their decisions are made under stress + personality + influence of events and interactions. But i guess yall don't want to think, yall just want to watch "girl go brrr killy killy monster"

I can continue writing down all these other points, but i'm hungry and should get up so i won't. Bottom text: RWBY is a good show with good story and good writing and good characters. It has struggles and fumbles like every other piece of media. But for some reason, because it's indie, it's held to a much higher standard and everyone feels entitled to pick apart every detail of it to make themselves feel justified for feeling sad over their dead headcanons, even though they'd never do the same picking for big production popular series with much *much* worse writing than even the worst of RWBY's fumbles.

If you made it this far and are a member of rwde, congratulations, you still have a reasonable bone or few. Most others i guess clicked off at first point and blocked me after sending me some kinda death threat, idk, i haven't posted this yet after all.

So yeah, feel free to leave your takes and death threats below, i'll happily discuss further later

[transmutationisms]

came across a post by astriiformes (astriiformes(.)tumblr(.)com/post/742882591316803584/hi-i-just-learned-about-the-scientific-revolution) that objected to Kuhn's theory of scientific revolution on the basis that they felt it leant in to the "great men of history" model. I never understood it this way, but I haven't read the book—I thought it was more about explaining the lag between accumulation of evidence that goes against the current paradigm and full paradigm shift. thoughts?

kuhn's model of 'paradigm shifts' is certainly prone to inviting 'great man' explanations of scientific developments. i would even go further, and say that this is due to a fundamental issue in kuhn's methodology, which is a tendency toward idealist analysis that fails to consider material and sociological factors. astriiformes points out that these days, kuhn is more popular with economists and political scientists than with practicing historians of science; this is true and not a coincidence.

astriiformes also walks through a valuable line of objection to kuhn, which is that the scientists we tend to credit with having made singlehanded discoveries were in fact usually embedded in vibrant scientific communities and ongoing debates, and were influenced by their contemporaries as well as their intellectual forebears. this is all true. another critical angle to interrogate here, and one where the Great Man often pops up again, is in kuhn's version of how scientific ideas are actually adopted: in other words, how he considers a 'paradigm shift' to actually occur, even once we assume the idea in question has already been formulated. let me chuck a few case studies at you because it's easier than talking in generalities.

for much of the 20th century, the 'standard story' of galileo's trial and imprisonment was that, having dared to become a lone voice defending heliocentrism, he was made a martyr to truth by the church, which was threatened on theological grounds. however, in the last several decades historians of science have studied much more seriously the patronage networks of renaissance italy: the structure of funding and epistemological authority whereby a scientist like galileo secured money, university or court positions, and respect by gaining mutually beneficial relationships with various nobles and other wealthy people. galileo had defended heliocentrism prior to the church's crackdown on him and his work; so had certain other astronomers. although it's true the church had theological objections to what galileo was saying, they were pretty much forced to tolerate him as long as he had sufficient patronage protection: wealthy, powerful people using their social clout to defend him. but this fragile truce was shattered when galileo lost the support of certain of his patrons, particularly some jesuits, in the early 1630s and thus became a much more vulnerable target of church censorship. it was only at this point that the church placed him on trial and then eventually under house arrest, and forced to recant.

evolutionary ('transmutationist') ideas were not new by the time darwin published the 'origin' in 1859. most french biologists at this time supported some variant of transmutationist ideas, and even in britain, transmutation of species had long been hotly discussed in the edinburgh medical schools in particular. the challenge for the wealthier london gentleman-naturalist set was that transmutationism had previously been associated with radical, materialist, atheist politics (this was precisely what appealed for many in edinburgh), and although evolutionary ideas had circulated in the wider reading public, these had typically been carefully framed to remain compatible with dominant anglican morals (eg, robert chambers's 'vestiges' of 1844). so, why were charles darwin's ideas accepted where others had been suppressed, ignored, or mired in controversy? a few reasons: again, a strong patronage network and powerful social connections (familial and personal); also, darwin very consciously avoided talking about human descent in 1859 (he did not do so until 1871's 'descent of man', which remains less widely read to this day) and avoided open avowal of materialism or atheism in his published works. furthermore, despite what lay histories may suggest nowadays, darwin's ideas were not embraced immediately or uncritically. they circulated piecemeal, with the help of 'popularisers' like haeckel and th huxley whose teachings often varied pretty widely from what darwin actually said or thought. and, prior to the 'modern synthesis' unifying 'darwinian' evolution with mendelian genetics, one of the most common objections to darwin's ideas was that he had provided proof of no actual mechanism of heredity, which resulted in a retrospectively fascinating period of anglo and french scientific writing between about 1890–1940 that often circulated the claim that darwin had been proven embarrassingly wrong, and it was jean-baptiste lamarck who had instead been vindicated by the biologists of the middle victorian era.

louis pasteur has historically been credited with ushering out the last vestiges of 'miasmatic' and 'environmentalist' theories of disease in france, and replacing them with good solid bacteriology. this is simply a misrepresentation of scientific beliefs among the lay public, technical experts like public health officials, and even working scientists under the third republic. because hygienists and sanitation engineers had spent much of the 19th century creating professional prestige for themselves as managers of the insalubrious environmental factors plaguing particularly the urban poor, you can imagine they were not generally thrilled at the proposition that someone had actually confirmed the existence of a microscopic 'germ' of disease, a foreign entity that could be studied and eradicated by a laboratory scientist with entirely different credentials and training. so, as it became clear that the actual eradication part was still a challenge, and that disease risk did not strike all people or demographics equally, french hygienists by and large simply altered their rhetoric a little. yes, germs existed—in fact, clearly, these were what the hygienists had been protecting people from all along by encouraging cleaner air, open spaces, gymnastic exercise, &c! this is the root of what's now known in the historical literature as the 'sanitary-bacteriological synthesis'—not an overturning of an old 'environmentalist' paradigm for a modern bacteriological one, but rather a melding of the two that enfolded pasteur's and koch's discoveries whilst still shoring up the professional authority of the hygienists and sanitarians.

in all three of these cases you can see how a strictly kuhnian analysis of 'paradigm shifts' over-emphasises the role of the Great Man (here in his guise as Genius Scientist) because it overlooks critical factors like the social and professional networks that actually allow knowledge to spread, and the professional and pecuniary interests that motivate people, consciously or not, when they evaluate new theories or ideas. galileo did not suffer from 'failing' to spark a paradigm shift, any more than darwin singlehandedly succeeded; their ideas circulated, mutated, and provoked on the strength of relationships as much as pure cerebral Theory. pasteur's claims likely could not have achieved the renown they did, had they not been helped along by hygienists who saw in them a change to re-form and reinforce their own profession and authority.

kuhn's work was an important departure from earlier positivist, largely teleological histories of science: the 'paradigm shift' allowed people to talk about massive and notable changes in science without having to accede to a model that assumed constant, linear progress. in this sense, much of today's history of science (still a comparatively immature and evolving field!) belongs to a citational lineage that will eventually pop up with kuhn's name. but, methodologically, kuhn leaves a lot to be desired, because his analysis is generally founded in an intellectual history that configures Science as a world of disembodied ideas unburdened by social, material, and economic considerations and practices.

[magerightsmagefights]

Obsessed with the vibes of Durgetash being Old And Dear Companions. The meta has been walked again and again of their heisting days, of breaking into museums and the Hells and being amicable, if not downright friendly since the beginning. How they have always been each other's equals, perhaps the only ones who even can; they each seek power because it is who they are, they can do nothing else. But what two flowers bloom better together than blood and oppression? Which two beings twine closer together than the tyrant and the assassin? Their pursuits of power do not threaten one another, at least while they are so far away from the two incompatible goals of “Rule Everything,” and “Kill Everything.” Before the Everything, there is only “Rule” and “Kill.”

I’m obsessed with them meeting decades prior to BG3. When Gortash is fresh from the Hells, barely more than a clever teenager with enough ambition to crush Baldur’s Gate under his heel. A Bhaalspawn just realizing how to lead their Father’s cult, and how to balance a continuous supply of murder with keeping the cult anonymous. Obsessed with a hungry disciple of Bane courting attention from the very favorite of Bhaal, a move so brazen it borders on disrespectful. Obsessed with the Bhaalspawn admiring it.

A heist. A mysterious murder here and there. A fledgeling arms dealer using his newfound influence to cover it all up. One becomes a dagger, the other a shield, and together their goals are multiplied.

Obsessed with the previous Chosen of Bane taking issue with Gortash attempting to challenge them. Obsessed with a red, curved dagger appearing in their back not long after.

The idea of them reaching their full strength together, because of one another. The mutual gain is so obvious, the mutual trust wasn’t even a question. After the trust, the mutual warmth was only natural. I enjoy your company, because how could they not? Similar enough to understand one another more deeply than anyone in the world possibly could. Different enough that they do not threaten one another, so their differences are more like compliments.

Obsessed with the theme of true love overcomes all evil, because that warmth was like the sun, and they were two Icaruses thinking they were cruel enough to keep their friendship safe. The idea of true friendship being their corruptor. The idea of love dooming them from the first moment it fluttered.

The idea that when the Dark Urge fell from grace, Gortash didn’t merely lose a friend, but an Old Friend. Perhaps an old lover, an old partner, but always someone he had known long and well. Someone he could never replace, whose kind he would never meet again.

[yellowhollyhock]

for and inspired by @majachee

The differences in approach to Raphael in Mirage and 1987 and their influence on archie

(I have not read all of Mirage or Archie, this is my impressions so far)

Mirage Raph: he’s got a big heart. I really think that’s the most succinct all-encompassing way of putting it. His emotions take up a lot of space.

Sometimes literally.

He’s always eager to help. When they meet that survivalist group, he’s the one to suggest Don could disable the bomb. When the time traveler girl/creature shows up, he’s the first to speak up that he’d like to help. And during the big Raph and Leo fight, it’s Raph who’s eager to return to New York. His heart is wide open to anyone in need.

He’s energetic. He loves fighting, it’s the first thing we learn about him. He hates leeches, but still tries to be kind to one in his demutation arc. Also, he loves to be outside! In the very first issue he spells it out; he hates being underground, loves the chance to be out in the city (when he’s delivering the challenge message to Shredder).

Stir crazy. Just a hyper gold-hearted teen whose hobby is roughhousing. Him and Mikey love to roughhouse so much in mirage. Unlike in later iterations, it never (to my knowledge) seems to start as or escalate into a fight, they just both love to do it. They do annoy others with their noise and breaking of furniture, but they both just love spending that time together.

But let’s not let any of that bring our attention away from the violence. He loves violence.

He’s like if the monster in your closet was a teddy bear, who could also kill you. On your side, he’s a big softie. But if you’re not on his side you may as well be a dead ant.

The duality of Raphael, which will influence future iterations of the red turtle for decades to come—but just a couple years down the road:

1987 Raphael

Does not want to help (this is an unfair oversimplification but compared to mirage Raph. He's more like mirage Don in the 'but do we have to though? have you considered we could die? okay just checking')

Does not like violence. Sure he can fight, he even can be a bit of a daredevil under the exact right circumstances, but mostly he prefers to hang back as much as possible.

He likes costumes and jokes. He does not seem particularly fond of animals. He loves being dramatic but like in a lowkey way.

He’s just tagging along with his bros making sarcastic remarks asdflkjkj (this is like literally the inverse of mirage Raph who likes solo missions; he’s on missions because he doesn’t want to be solo)

Also, as opposed to mirage Raph who’s got a very strong sense of who he is and leans into it, 87 Raphael is insecure about not having a ‘thing’ he contributes to the team. That’s why he takes up disguises.

It’s like this. Mirage Raph is your uncle who’s had too much to drink before the party even starts, who doesn’t realize how loud he’s talking or how aggressive he’s coming across as he tells about his adventures either last week or throughout his childhood. Other relatives keep trying to hint to him that the things he shares aren’t appropriate in front of little kids, but he’s just like ‘oh you’re right there’s kiddos, come on gather round you guys will like this one’ and then tells a worse story. He’s also the only relative the skittish shelter dog your grandma just brought home will trust. He’s brought you a blanket with your favorite video game character on it, mindful of your texture sensitivity. It’s not your birthday, it’s just cause.

87 Raphael is your closeted gay cousin who’s got such an intense fixation on Bugs Bunny your aunt’s getting worried. As far as the adults are concerned he doesn’t seem to cause too much trouble but he’s always around when you’re doing something you shouldn’t, rarely tattles but always threatens to and uses this to get you to buy him things, or do his chores, or save him the good seat at the table or cheat for him at game night or whatever. He knows all the family secrets and has something scathing to say about everything ever, whether how lame a family activity is or why on earth your dad bought a truck that color or what were they thinking making the post office out of brick. He’s gonna be in a play this fall, he’s trying not to tell anyone but your aunt really insists you come see him.

All of this to say, here’s why archie is the way he is

And by the way he is… hm. How does one begin to explain archie Raph

He’s very often the turtle taking initiative. That comes from Mirage. He sees an opening and goes for it. He really does seem to enjoy fighting, and is happy to go off on a solo mission if it seems exciting or is gonna get the threat taken care of faster. But he does also sort of roll his eyes? Like ugh we’re gonna go out and fight again. Ugh stupid bad guys now I have to beat them up when I could be home eating pizza. What do you mean what did we learn ugh Splinter ugh.

He’s just. Idk he’s so broody. I think I’m mostly basing this on his expressions? Maybe what I’ve heard from the future arc that I haven’t read yet? I can’t pin down why he seems broody to me but I can’t think of a better word for him.

He’s got the love of violence and the deadpan sense of humor. The ‘let me just get this done solo’ and the ‘please do not separate me from my brothers.’ The impulsive trembling with excitement looking for a chance to strike fighter in him from his mirage counterpart, and the obsession with clothes from his 1987 counterpart.

Seriously, even though it kind of annoys me for reasons I can’t begin to explain, one of my favorite things about this Raph is his freaking costumes. The archie writers really looked at warm-hot-dangerous-sweetheart mirage Raph and complainer-comedian-Some Guy-queer coded 87 Raphael and said ‘you know what these two have in common? Black clothes. Maybe a hooded cloak.’

And yeah that tracks, right? If rambunctious uncle and gay cousin are somehow gonna be the same guy, he is the ultimate Emo. Emo Aunt.

(accidentally created a little family of Raphael allegories kjhskjdf)

so basically

[mariacallous]

A New York federal judge denied bail to Sean “Diddy” Combs at an arraignment hearing on Tuesday (Sept. 17), leaving the once-powerful rapper and music executive behind bars as he awaits trial on sweeping allegations of sexual abuse.

The charges, unsealed earlier on Tuesday, accuse Combs of running a decades-long racketeering conspiracy that included sex trafficking, forced labor, kidnapping, arson and bribery. If convicted on all the charges, he potentially faces a sentence of life in prison.

At an initial hearing Tuesday in front of a packed Manhattan courtroom, Combs formally pleaded not guilty to each of the three charges he’s facing. His attorneys also requested that he be released on a $50 million bond, saying he’d surrender his passport and submit to constant monitoring.

But according to the Associated Press, Magistrate Judge Robyn F. Tarnofsky ultimately sided with prosecutors, who had warned that the billionaire executive still posed a flight risk and might intimidate witnesses if released. She ruled that Combs attorneys had not overcome the “presumption” that defendants in such serious cases should remain behind bars.

Combs, also known as Puff Daddy and P. Diddy, was once one of the most powerful men in the music industry. But he’s faced a flood of civil lawsuits in recent months over allegations of sexual abuse, starting with a high-profile case last year from his former longtime girlfriend Cassie Ventura. That lawsuit quickly settled, but it was later corroborated by a widely shared video of Combs assaulting Ventura at a hotel.

In Tuesday’s indictment, prosecutors accused Combs of running a sprawling criminal operation aimed at satisfying his need for “sexual gratification.” The charges detailed “freak offs” in which Combs and others would allegedly ply victims with drugs and then coerce them into having sex with male sex workers, as well as alleged acts of violence and intimidation to keep victims silent.

“For decades, Sean Combs … abused, threatened and coerced women and others around him to fulfill his sexual desires, protect his reputation and conceal his conduct,” prosecutors wrote in the indictment. “To do so, Combs relied on the employees, resources and the influence of his multi-faceted business empire that he led and controlled.”

Ahead of Tuesday’s hearing, both sides submitted detailed arguments to the judge on whether Combs should be detained until his jury trial, which could still be months away.

Combs’ defense lawyers said he was “eminently trustworthy” and had demonstrated “extraordinary” cooperation by flying to New York to allow himself to be arrested on Monday. They offered to post a $50 million bond, submit to house arrest with GPS monitoring, and even to sell his private jet.

“Sean Combs has never evaded, avoided, eluded or run from a challenge in his life,” his lawyers wrote. “He will not start now. As he has handled every hardship, he will meet this case head-on, he will work hard to defend himself, and he will prevail.”

But prosecutors argued back that Combs was a “serial abuser” who had a history of both violence and witness intimidation, raising the prospect that he might attempt to obstruct the case against him. They also said that he still posed a flight risk even under his proposed conditions, citing his “seemingly limitless resources” and the looming threat of a lifetime prison sentence.

“In short, if the defendant wanted to flee, he has the money, manpower, and tools to do so quickly and without detection,” prosecutors wrote. “The defendant’s lack of access to his passport or private jet would not negate the fact that the defendant could easily buy his way out of facing justice.”

Following Tuesday’s hearing before a magistrate judge, Combs is set for an initial pretrial conference next week before Judge Andrew L. Carter, Jr., the federal district judge who will oversee the trial.

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐀 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐔 ⁂

Twisted Wonderland Sightseeing and Travel Centre - Homepage

Travel FAQ || Accommodations || NRC Homepage || RSA Homepage

Is it your first time visiting Twisted Wonderland? If so, please allow us the honour to introduce our beautiful region to you! Whether you are planning your trip as a relaxing getaway or are looking to feel the thrill of watching our nation’s best battling it out, you are sure to find this region worth your time.

From the lush forests of Briar Valley over the impressive dunes of the Scalding Sands all the way to the azure depths of the Coral Sea, the region boasts not only awe-inspiring flora, but also various species of pokémon. You might recognise some of their names from your Pokédex, yet their appearance is guaranteed to surprise you. Yes, much like other regions, Twisted Wonderland is home to a few regional variants that we call ‘Twisted Forms’. 

After a day’s worth of exploring everything the region has to offer, you can immerse yourself in the exciting atmosphere of a professional pokémon battle. Whether it is in the stands of one of our many stadiums or from the comfort of your temporary home through televised and online streams, watching the nation’s best give it their all is guaranteed to get your heart racing!

What sets the battles in Twisted Wonderland apart from those in other regions is the ability of strong trainers to use their Unique Magic to directly influence a battle. It’s a trainer’s innate talent that cannot be copied by anyone else and marks those who are able to use it as truly strong. It goes without saying that these abilities have the potential to change the flow of any battle and keep a match interesting until the very end!

Given the popularity of Pokémon battles as a sport, it should come as no surprise that many aspire to go professional and climb the League’s ranks. However, only a select few have what it takes. Sage Island is the epicentre of developing all things Pokémon-related. Not only is it home to the Pokémon League, the most prestigious academic institutions for aspiring young adults are located there as well.

Both Night Raven College and Royal Sword Academy, run by leading professors Dire Crowley and Ambrose LXIII, have the reputation of fostering a learning environment that consistently produces the strongest trainers of a generation. Furthermore, their students are also recognised in various other fields, such as the development and manufacturing of gadgets or the studies of types, attacks, abilities, evolutions and the like. Therefore it is not surprising many of them receive offers to go abroad for their internship to study under renowned professors and entrepreneurs from all over the world.

In fact, these institutions are so accomplished, they host the local Gym Challenge, which enables trainers outside the Top 10 to challenge the Elite Four in order to potentially qualify for the annual Champion’s Tournament. To determine which school gets the prestigious honour of putting forward the Gym Leaders, an exclusive tournament is held at the beginning of the season. For the past few decades, RSA has been able to clutch the win on the privilege of hosting the Gym Challenge.

Has your curiosity been piqued and your wanderlust set in? If so, the Twisted Wonderland Services and Tourism Centre eagerly awaits your timely arrival and looks forward to welcoming you to our beautiful region in person! 

If you have any further questions, please visit our Travel FAQ or contact the staff of the TWSTC directly.

For more information on the local Pokémon, please visit the website of Twisted Wonderland’s Bellwether Institute.

For more information on internships and studies abroad, please visit the homepages of Night Raven College and Royal Sword Academy.

To book your flight, we recommend Albatross Airlines; to book your accommodation, please visit Neverland Housing Agency.

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[gabrielsbubblegumbitch]

Panaceum deleted scene

A yo, I promised to post the part I cut out during the editing because it was bad for the narration flow. Essentially, at first instead of having the whole conversation with Angel via text, Valentino invited him to the studio, just to exercise his control and waste Angel's time. It would be in character. But storytelling wise it was an unnecessary complication that didn't do any favor to pacing.

So, yeah, I would say "enjoy" but it's just Valentino being a terrible person so I just say: tw // abuse

Valentino sneaks out of Vox’s apartment and heads to his office. Though the office might be a misleading label. This is the place of pleasure and power, not paperwork. Plush, velvet-upholstered sofas beckon invitingly, their curves accentuated by the soft glow of dimmed, amber lighting. A mirrored wall stretches from floor to ceiling, reflecting the room's decadent ambiance and adding an illusion of endless space. Against one wall stands a well-stocked bar, gleaming with crystal decanters and polished glassware. The rich aroma of aged whiskey and exotic liqueurs fills the air, mingling with the faint scent of incense and musky cologne. In the center of the room, a small pole dance platform awaits – an invitation for potential new stars, and a promise to Valentino’s guests.

As he waits for Angel Dust, Valentino puts on some music – one of his own albums – and methodically removes all the VoxTek cameras from the ceiling, one by one.

Their absence is the first thing Angel notices upon his arrival. Stepping through the door, he quickly surveys the room, likely gauging the level of danger he’s in, and immediately questions:

“No show today?” His tone carries a hint of challenge, but Valentino detects the undercurrent of curiosity in his voice. Understandably so – everyone in Vees' inner circle knows that Valentino is always under the watchful eyes of VoxTek cameras and has never expressed dissatisfaction with it. He’s a performer after all, always more than willing to put on a show for his biggest fan.

Valentino arches an eyebrow, his gaze piercing and judgmental as he ignites his cigarette. "Nothing worth watching. Jesus, look how fat you got. Giving up coke doesn't serve you well, Angel Cakes," he comments with a cruel smile, the smoke swirling around him.

"What do you want, Val?" Angel responds, his tone steady despite the tension radiating from his body. He holds Valentino's gaze, unwilling to yield an inch. Yet, beneath his facade of confidence he visibly struggles against an invisible force, as if he's constantly battling against the weight of Valentino's influence. He tries to convince himself that he feels nothing, but it's just pointless. Valentino has woven himself into every fiber of Angel's being, leaving an indelible mark of his control.

“Sit down.” Commands Valentino instead of answering and Angel immediately sinks into the big, comfortable chair, almost pushed into it with the contract's bonding force. Valentino gestures toward the large, golden bowl brimming with cocaine. "Treat yourself."

Angel must be fucking crazy if he thinks that he can play tough with his owner.

"I'll pass," he retorts almost mechanically, though his lack of conviction is palpable. Despite Angel's efforts to project self-control, Valentino notices the way he clenches his fist, nails biting into his palm. The scent of his discomfort and craving hangs heavy in the air and Valentino savors it, inhaling deeply. That’s the best part of playing with addicts - no matter how good they are at the game, they possess one glaring weakness that can be exploited to devastating effect. It's this knowledge that crowns the man who deals in addictions as the true king of the city.

"You know I don't like to be denied," purrs Val, the smoke from his cigarette swirling around Angel's face like a sinister caress. "Maybe I should just..." With a swift motion, he reaches out and grasps a fistful of Angel's hair. Hard. "Put your ugly face into it?"

Angel doesn't even flinch. His breath trembles slightly, but there's a calmness about him that unsettles Valentino. Could he be on sedatives? It’s not possible his Angel has become so numb and boring.

"Wouldn't be a very constructive talk then, would it?" Angel suggests, prompting a cheerful yet deeply infuriated laugh from Valentino. Laughing it off is the only way he can prevent himself from succumbing to the urge to lash out and check how many hits to the table Angel’s head needs before it cracks open. It's maddening when his toys fail to perform as expected.

"Look at you, you grew some balls," Valentino remarks, releasing Angel's hair and ruffling it affectionately. "But you are right. I need you to arrange a meeting with the Radio Demon."

Angel frowns, adjusting his suit with a hint of theatrical irritation.

“Can't you like, do it yourself?” he asks and he fucking dares to be annoyed with Valentino’s demand.

“Oh what do you think I should do? Call his hell phone? Message him on sinstagram? Visit in person?” Velntino snarks, rolling his eyes. “You stupid bitch.”

Angel simply nods, acknowledging Valentino's response, and takes a moment to consider his own options. "Yeah, I can ask him," he concedes, probably realizing he has little to lose by doing Val this favor and perhaps even less to gain by refusing. "But you know how he is. Can't really force him to do anything."

"No need to force, though I'd like to see you trying," Valentino huffs, exhaling another cloud of red smoke that envelops Angel's body like a possessive embrace. "Just tell him I want to make a deal," he adds, noting the surprise in Angel's widened eyes as they once again dart towards the broken cameras.

"Me. No one else," Valentino clarifies before Angel can voice his unspoken question. It's amusing how his pet always skirts around mentioning Vox's name, as if uttering it could summon him, despite the fact that Vox's invisible presence has long been intertwined with their relationship. Or perhaps because of it.

"But if I do it, you can't tell him I had anything to do with it," Angel asserts, a hint of fear finally creeping into his voice.

“Fuck, I really was too soft on you if you are seriously more afraid of Vox than me,” Valentino scoffs, shaking his head. But honestly, understands. He has never been able to bring himself to finish Angel's miserable existence - both, out of sentiment and cruelty. Vox however, jealous of Valentino's attention just waits for the right moment when Val gets bored with his doll and he will be finally permitted to dismember it and burn what remains. He explicitly told Angel once, because that much Valentino allowed him. Vox is always so entreating when he lets his sadism to shine through the perfect mask.

"You know that if he learns that I helped you betray him—" Angel begins, anxiously nibbling on his sleeve, but before he can finish, Valentino smacks the table with such force that it cracks under his palm.

"I'm not a sellout bitch like you," Valentino growls, baring his teeth, like he was ready to rip Angel’s neck.

"Okay. Okay. I..." Angel takes a deep breath, desperately searching for the right words to defuse the escalating tension. He realizes a few seconds too late how badly he fucked up. It's enough to instill genuine fear of what he might have triggered. “Misinterpreted the situation.”

"Like hell," Valentino hisses, fixing him with a murderous glare. "Now fuck off before I make this meeting about you."

Angel doesn't need to be told twice. He scrambles off the armchair, finally released from Valentino's earlier command, and hastens out of the room. As the door closes behind him, Valentino sinks back onto the couch, lighting another cigarette in an attempt to quell his emotions. He knows he just needs to see this through to the end, and then Vox will be the one left worrying about plans and consequences. Oh, Vox. Vox would undoubtedly be ecstatic if Valentino got rid of Angel. Perhaps it would be the definitive proof to the Media Overlord that Valentino's heart belongs solely to him, finally securing Vox's confidence in their relationship. Though he definitely would be disappointed that he didn’t have a chance to turn the last hours of Angel’s life into some fucked up snuff movie. But one can’t have everything.

Valentino finishes his cigarette and decides to get to work. He must keep himself busy waiting for Alastor’s answer, and cameras must roll if he doesn’t want to listen to Vox whining when he will finally check the books again.