#as in create something original that can fuel me like that

[naomistares]

Hi I think ur art is so amazing!!! I only read tlt recently and as soon as I saw ur art it was pretty much all I could think about lol I'm obsessed with how u do ur compositions and bgs, and people (and everything about ur art)

Also,,,,,I was wondering where/who u get inspo from when u make ur peices?

No pressure to answer this ask if ur not feeling it!!! I hope ur having a rlly good day and resting before/during uni <3333

hi!! i hope you had a fun time reading them!! and thank you for the kind words 🫶🫶

honestly the answer is really simple! my inspiration just comes straight out of the books.. it does powerful things to me and my head.. (i don't know how after many years i am still not bored or out of inspiration)

and i just try really hard to capture what i imagine (although it has never come out exactly right, save for literally a few drawings) if i were just drawing random people that i am not emotionally invested in, you would 100% notice a lack.

good media is the ultimate inspiration! trying to replicate the way something made me feel, what it made me see, is super fun to me and highly rewarding !

so i guess i do get my inspo from tazmuir (the who) and my mind palace (the where) 😭 !

[3hks]

How to Write an IMPACTFUL Backstory

Honestly, writing and reading about backstories is probably one of my favorite parts of a character's story! It's a strong foundation for a character's goals, motives, thoughts, and actions! Its most powerful effect, on the other hand, is its ability to change one's view on a character. So, then, how do we write such an impactful past?

For beginners, the more tragic the backstory, the better. While this does hold some truth, let me re-iterate that it's for beginners. The idea behind it is that a pure, devastatingly pitiful backstory is unique and pulls at your reader's heartstrings. Unfortunately, instead, we're left with an origin story that feels superficial, overly-dramatic, unnecessary, and shallow. However in this post, I will give you some tips on how to avoid creating such 2D backgrounds and actually bring your character's past to life!

First, your character's backstory can be made with whatever components you choose, but the key is that you must balance them out correctly. Additionally, the majority of the time, you do want their story to stick out, so I suggest trying to come up with something original! It's much harder than it sounds, but honestly, every other protagonist has dead parents at this point. Be creative, add details, and don't be afraid to let your character go through things if you feel that it's fitting!

Second, don't extend their past for too long. The point of introducing the backstory is to elaborate on a (few) certain event(s) that affected your character the most and forever changed their lives. Keep it centered around one, or at most, a couple events.

Next, most writers tend to use sadness and/or to fuel the character, but it should not be overbearing and excessive. Alternatively, it should feel GENUINE. Not dramatic, but genuine. Different genres do form different types of backstories, yes, but the core concept behind it should be something natural. It should be something that your readers will be able to understand; something authentic. They should feel some sense of relatability, even if it's just a little. This could be like family issues, broken friendships, betrayals, leaving someone, mental struggles, loneliness, etc. Complexity can surround these concepts, but the basic, fundamental ideas should still be present.

Furthermore, be sure that their backstory makes sense. Even if you're introducing it through quick, brief flashbacks, ultimately, you want the reader to have all the pieces to solve the puzzle.

Last but not least, make your backstory feel personal to your character! Build it in a sense that if it were to go to any other character, it wouldn't have an effect that's as severe. Make it targeted to its owner. While this is something that can be difficult to execute, it really provides insight to your character, and is an easy way to add some intricacy to a simple backstory! A good place to start is thinking about the things personal to your character. For instance, this could be their past before the event, people they care about, their morals, etc. Then, add it in said event so that it pushes and/or challenges your character in a way that makes them re-evaluate that value.

There you go! Here are my personal tips on how to upgrade your character's backstory and have it really impact your reader! Be creative, keep it centered around a couple things, make it genuine, and make it targeted to the character!

Happy writing~

3hks <3

[alistarascendance]

❝𝐈 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨, 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧—𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧?❞

— in which, fabled legend Alistar returns from the Chasm decades after their descent, only to find themself faced with an issue: humanity, in their absence, has created a world of suffering, dilapidated by greed, and Alistar’s presence only continues to fuel their selfishness, as a living legend must kill… or be killed.

Alistar: Ascendance is a cyberpunk, dystopian romance interactive fiction that was originally intended to simply be a story, before its writer (me) decided to be impulsive and turn it into an IF.

DISCLAIMERS

this story will contain depictions of alcohol, smoking, blood, violence, profanity, mild gore, yandere behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive themes, discrimination, self-hatred, mentions of emotional and physical abuse, suicidal thoughts, an oppressive government, fictional languages and religions, real world philosophies/religions including but not limited to: cynicism, nihilism and atheism; a corrupt world, discussion of morals and human conscience, as well as other mature themes. this list will be updated as the story is written.

please keep all of this in mind while reading!

A gender-selectable MC, who you choose the name, personality, sexuality, appearance, and morals of.

A wide variety of choices to choose from that will impact your story, and the need to keep your MC sane (or just go batshit insane. That works, too).

5 male love interests + 1 secret RO, all of whom you can maintain a simply platonic relationship with if you wish, or you can just continue to flirt with them endlessly (+ a FWB relationship for some).

An enriching world and story, set in a cyberpunk dystopia (we know all of you are here for the romance though).

A powerful MC 😔😔

ROs (romance options, also referred to as LIs or love interests).

THE SURFACE DWELLER:

Seven. 21, Chaotic Good. Mechanic.

“The HIVE needs to fall. There are no exceptions—not even for you.”

The first person you meet once you arrive on the Surface, you and Seven have a unique bond. He’s got a reputation in the slums and Neon for being great at parties, but his friendliness can easily be read as something more.

Is it something more? Further observations will have to be made…

THE SURVIVOR

Saturn. 23, Lawful Evil. Bartender.

“Keep your head down, and you’ll survive.”

The quiet bartender has a curious perspective on things. He seems to have no problem with the HIVE members patrolling his bar, even serving them drinks like they’re normal customers, despite their heavy armor and edges that are too sharp to be humane.

He also doesn’t seem to be particularly interested in you in the slightest. Why’s that?

THE DIPLOMAT

“Is it better to live in quiet solitude, your voice stripped and taken—or would you rather have died, knowing your voice was the loudest amongst them all?”

Chain. 23, alignment unclear. Current occupation unknown.

He’s someone to keep an eye out for. While he hasn’t practiced his craft in years, he may still prove to be dangerous. Just as friendly as Seven, but far more difficult to truly befriend.

Obtain new information as soon as possible…

THE PUPPET

Judge me if you must. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m up here, and you’re down there.

Orion. 25, Lawful Neutral. HIVE operative.

The HIVE member patrolling Saturn’s bar. Part of something greater than he is, but he’s a part of it, regardless. Keep him around…

OTHER ENTITIES

Argos: Neutral Good. Age unknown. The deity whose spear you brandished, after his passing. He was a good man, but the fact only makes your sins rest heavier in your heart.

Teacher: True Neutral. Around ~200 years old. The chasm-dwelling shadow who taught you all you know of the Chasm and its residents.

Alistar: alignment unknown. Around ~200 years old. That’s you! You’re Alistar. At least, that’s what the world has been calling you ever since you ended the war and revitalized humanity, so that is what you will be referred to as throughout the entirety of the story. However, if you’d like to change your name (as Alistar is the default) you may!

As I am primarily an author (as in I literally have done nothing else with my life) I am new to coding (I took ONE coding club in fourth grade) and am trying to write out and perfect a chapter before converting it into typical IF form.

Once I manage to get things situated, I’ll started to code. I’m currently almost done writing chapter 4, so I’ll start working on coding once I finish it.

If anyone wants to read the chapters I’ve written until now, just shoot me an ask or message :)) I’d be happy to show you. otherwise, here are the ones I’ve posted so far:

CHAPTERS

CHAPTER ONE: COURTING DEATH CHAPTER TWO: THOSE WHO REMAIN CHAPTER THREE: TARNISHED DREAMS

asked to be tagged for new chapters!

[ossifer-bones]

the paul poll compelled me to just quickly write up my little opinion piece on paul and necromancy in the tlt verse bcs tags are a pain in the ass to elaborate on my opinion in: paul horrifies me. i think that a lot of people read palamedes' interpretation of lyctorhood as being some sort of objective truth and that there is a right way to do lyctorhood and paul is it, but i just don't agree with that; i think in a series rife with unreliable narrators, palamedes' views on lyctorhood should be considered as subjective as any other person's.

“Can one person even be two people? I feel like I’ve only got enough room inside for me, and sometimes like that room’s not even enough.” “Lyctors can,” said Palamedes, “or at least—they thought they could; in fact all they became were half-dead cannibals. I think a true Lyctorhood is a mutual death … a gravitational singularity creating something new. A true Grand Lysis, rather than the Petty Lysis of the megatheorem [...]

what he says here about lysis is in response to nona asking if one person can be two people, and thus it is a very loaded statement when coming from someone heralding from a society where the extreme co-dependence of the fundamentally unequal necro/cav bond is encouraged, especially considering camilla and palamedes are called out by others from that same society as being an exemplary case of co-dependence in that department!

camilla and palamedes are arguably more equal than any other cav/necro pair in series, in part due to that co-dependence, but we even see in NtN that cam does stuff that undercuts that equality (telling pyrrha to lie to palamedes, 'don't tell him i was weak'). and that equality, that love, is shown to be thought of as coming at the cost of freedom: when palamedes says, “I cannot bear the thought of using you.”—camilla responds, “Love and freedom don’t coexist, Warden.”

in the end, every permutation of the necro and cav pairing is irrevocably descended from john + alecto's example and while i think beauty can be found in some of them, they all suffer from the same fundamental imbalance that bond hinges on; nonconformity abates it, but abolishment is required for real freedom from it. the so-called indelible sin of lyctorhood is just an echo of the original sin john committed.

If there was one thing Gideon knew about necromancers, it was that they needed power. Thanergy—death juice—was abundant wherever things had died or were dying. Deep space was a necro’s nightmare, because nothing had ever been alive out there, so there were no big puddles of death lying around for Harrow and her ilk to suck up with a straw.

necromancy necessitates consumption, taking by its very nature: death, especially violent death, is what fuels it—infants producing more thanergy on death is literally a noted phenomena! paul's birth, while it could be seen as triumphant in the sense of it being an act of creation, is literally identified by palamedes himself as a mutual death, death being required to fuel it the same as any other necromantic working. i don't want to say 'necromancy is fundamentally evil' but uh... it is irrevocably tied into john's conception of human nature: "This is the problem, the incorporation, this is the hardest part … It’s the human instinct, to take."

something i always point out about camilla and palamedes' grand lysis is theparallel with gideon and harrow's incomplete petty lysis: both come about as a result of a fully-realised lyctor (ianthe, cytherea) having cornered the pair, resulting in both being threatened with imminent death (camilla critically injured and palamedes facing expulsion from naberius when ianthe re-emerges; harrow necromantically spent and gideon having suffered multiple injuries, both going to die when cytherea breaks through the bone dome). paul's birth only happened as a direct result of the continuation of the lyctoral cycle of violence, with ianthe in cytherea's position; per palamedes, “I am not saying this was our inevitable end … I am saying we have found the best and truest and kindest thing we can do in this moment.”

paul may be the best and truest and kindest thing cam and pal could've done in that moment, but that moment should've never came to pass: the codependency instilled into them through their society, the violence that put them in that position, and the consumptive necromancy that made paul possible. paul is horrifying because they are the most hopeful and kind thing, and they are the product of two people, one sans his own body, undergoing mutual death to fuel their birth.

they're the truest response to one flesh, one end: an oath purportedly coined by cristabel and alfred, who compelled their necromancers to ascend via a suicide pact.

valancy says one flesh one end sounds like instructions for a sex toy. can’t stop thinking about that so can someone stop cris and alfred before the sex toy phrase catches on, thanks.

did the sex toy phrase really need a response?

[badomensbaby]

above the law. lrh

pairing: luke hemmings x fem! reader

summary: luke's so sick of his assistant, you, talking all the damn time. he finally does something about it.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. smut, thigh-riding, unprotected sex, verbal degradation, rough bj, slightly dubious consent, office sex, cum-swallowing, cursing.

word count: 4,173

a/n: i wrote this originally back in early 2023 as an au using one of my wattpad original characters. through some editing, i've decided to change the pov and post it here! i hope you enjoy x

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

Copyright © 2024 badomensbaby. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hemmings, get your head out of your ass for once and finish this goddamn deal."

The curly headed blonde's eyes snap away from the project he's currently in the middle of, various folders scattered amongst his desk, drowning him in useless paperwork all for a stupid fucking merger.

"The fuck do you think I'm doing?" Luke grumbles under his breath, snapping the Bolton file shut and tossing his overly expensive fountain pen on top of the mess he's created. Ashton Irwin, one of three named partners, stands with his arms crossed in the doorway of Luke's corner office, an unamused expression on his face.

"I think you're trying to do all this shit on your own instead of utilizing your associate, that's what I think," the honey blonde scoffs, thick brow raising, "Where's Y/N anyway? You send her across town for your stupid coffee again?"

"No," Luke's quick to defend, though it is the easiest way to get you out of his eyesight for a little while and focus, "I've got her on the Mansfield settlement."

"The Mansfield- that's Mike's case, idiot," Ashton shakes his head, "What's the deal, Luke? You really hate Y/N that much?"

A sigh of exhaustion leaves Luke's lips, head cocking back as he stares at the ceiling. "She's just chatty," he says vaguely, "Can't get a single fuckin' thing done 'cause she won't shut up."

"She's your associate, Luke, stop pawning her off on Mike or he'll swipe her out from under you."

"Good," he forces out a low chuckle, meeting the man's eyes, "He can have her."

"Don't say things you don't mean, you know she's one of the best associates we've got." Luke's eyes roll at his boss' words, sitting up straighter in his desk chair.

"Whatever," he mumbles softly, not willing to admit your brain is undeniably better than half the fucking people he's met. "Can I get back to work now?"

A defeated sigh escapes Ash's lips, "If I don't see Y/N in here working with you I'll make sure to send Calum your way."

"Calum?" the curly haired boy's nose wrinkles, shaking his head, "That's like giving me a fucking puppy, Ash, literally useless."

"Your call." he responds, a little smirk on his lips before pulling Luke's office door shut behind him. A groan leaves Luke's throat at this, the urge to rip every last blonde ringlet from his head at the idea of spending the remaining afternoon going over these stupid files with you.

Regardless of the fact that you’re distracting, which he'll never admit aloud, he shoots you a vague text requiring your presence in his office, no more than twenty minutes from now.

And of course, your dainty little wrist began knocking on the dark wooden door of his office precisely twenty-three minutes after he'd sent the text, only fueling his annoyance. A curt "come in" leaves his lips but his eyes remain on the file, instead of the sinful black dress on your curvy frame.

Tasteful and tightly fit, your fingers instinctively tug at the material resting on your mid thigh, a worrisome look on your features. For as long as you can recall, Luke's always teased you about your wardrobe, especially the bright colors and silken skirts.

"You're late," his tone is flat, hand scribbling away at the paperwork he's nearly memorized already, "I swear to god if you say some bullshit about the elevator again-"

Luke's words die in his throat as he lifts his head, eyes landing on the tight fabric on your frame, hugging every fucking dip and curve of your body. You meet eyes, yours widening, worried you’re going to be lectured again. Was your dress too plain, too boring?

The sweetheart neckline alone almost makes Luke lick his lips, stifling the urge to say something far, far more inappropriate to his associate. "Doesn't matter," the blonde rushes out, "We're gonna be here all night. Preorder from Machi's while you're at it."

"Okay," is all you say, walking closer to his desk, the click of your heels echoing Luke's ears as you bend over, just slightly, grabbing his desk phone and beginning to dial.

After nearly four hours and neither had made a miraculous discovery, a whine of agony leaves your throat, sat across the moderately sized office, snapping yet another useless file folder shut. "Luke,"

"What?" he rasps, tearing his eyes away from the file, meeting your eyes, his own filled with annoyance. "Don't tell me you've got nothing, Y/N."

"There's honestly no reason why Bolton should be merging with Daniels," you sigh out, running a hand through your hair, "Seriously, it's like Pampers merging with Microsoft, they have no interest in one another."

"Christ," Luke mutters under his breath, jaw tensing as you continue to ramble useless information, "Do you ever shut up?"

Mid-sentence, your lips snap shut, a warmth spreading across your cheeks. "Sorry," you respond softly, and Luke almost feels bad for being so curt, but god you never close your fucking mouth. "Did you find anything?"

A huff of air leaves Luke's nose, "Maybe," he says, twirling his fountain pen between his fingers, leg bouncing aimlessly as he scans over the documents for the umpteenth time. "But you keep fucking talking and it's throwing me off."

"Sorry."

"Damnit, Y/N," his curls bounce slightly as he shakes his head, rifling a hand through them, glancing over at your position on the small sofa, dress slightly ridden up your smooth thighs. "Come here, let me show you something."

Hesitantly, you toss the file on your lap onto the cushion, standing and making your way over to Luke's desk, oblivious to the fitted material of your dress riding a bit higher than intended. Luke swallows thickly, attempting to keep focus on the file in his hand. As you lean over slightly to see what Luke's underlined, his eyelids fall shut, the smell of your perfume annihilating his senses.

"But that means-" you cut yourself off, lower lip tucked between your teeth, palms flat on the corner of Luke's desk, "This isn't about combining their companies, is it?"

"No," Luke finally says after a moment, slowly blinking his eyes open, "But we need to convince the judge it is."

"That's impossible, Luke, it's clear they're only doing this for-"

"I know, just figure it out, Y/N."

"That'll take all night," you whine softly, "I'm not sleeping in the office two nights in a row." Luke's teeth grit together at your response, frustrated and fed up with your goddamn attitude.

"If you can't do it I'll find someone who can," he cranes his neck to meet your eyes, narrowed and darkened, "You wanna whine about a few more hours be my guest, but you're not doing it here."

"But-"

"Jesus fucking-" he abandons his pen with a thud, rubbing the palms of his hands against his tired eyes, "I seriously have never met someone so goddamn annoying. All you fucking do is whine and complain and talk my fucking ear off," Luke rambles lowly, "You wanted to be an associate, so be a goddamn associate and shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you."

You stand upright, embarrassment washing over your features, attempting to remain composed as tears threaten your eyes. It's not a secret that Luke's always harbored some sort of annoyance toward you, but he's never spoken to you in such a vile manner before. You swallow the thick lump in your throat, fists balled at your sides. How dare he say those things to you?

"You're an asshole," you say, voice wavering slightly, "You're always a dick to everyone. Nobody's ever good enough for you. I wanted to be an associate to learn and do what I love, not be talked to like a child."

"The fuck did you say to me?" Luke counters with a raised brow, ringed fingers slowly rolling up the sleeves of his fitted black dress shirt. "I think you forget who you work for. Not Ashton, not Michael, definitely not Jessica. You work for me, Y/N, and if you want to keep your fucking job I think you owe me a goddamn apology."

Luke's eyes flicker between yours and the hemline of your little black dress, the skin of your thighs soft and tempting as he widens the distance between his legs, splayed open. "Come here," he says, a bit quieter this time, though he's fucking seething internally, he can't deny how fucking hot it is talking down to the you. Hesitantly, you step closer, stomach swirling with uneasiness.

"You don't wanna go through those files? Fine," Luke forces out a low chuckle, "But I've got work to do and I'm not gonna let you get in the way of that. So what you're gonna do is sit right here," he taps on his clothed thigh, "Shut your fucking mouth and make yourself cum on my thigh."

"What-"

"You heard me."

"Luke, I-"

"It wasn't a question, Y/N. And so help me god if you complain or make a fucking sound you're more than welcome to leave."

For the first time, you’re speechless. Standing so close to the man you swear hates you with every fiber of his being, asking you to make yourself cum on his thigh, you can't help the clench of your own thighs at the thought. Sure, you’ve had those kinds of thoughts about the tall blonde, but never did you imagine his request.

"So? What'll it be?" Luke asks impatiently, a thick brow raised as he grabs his pen, clicking it profusely, leaning back in his chair.

Wordlessly, and swallowing your pride, you step closer, slowly lifting your leg over the blonde's thigh, his foot firmly planted on the small rug beneath him. His eyes almost widen, as if he didn't expect you to comply, and he stifles a grunt when your warm center meets the fabric of his slacks. He can feel how fucking wet you are through the thin material of your underwear, your dress sliding a bit further up your thighs, almost exposing yourself to him.

"Alright then," Luke clears his throat, leaning forward slightly to grab the Bolton file, relaxing in his desk chair. "Get to it."

With her heart rattling in her chest, you grasp the armrest of Luke's chair to ground yourself, filled to the brim with shame. Are you really going to do this? You can still back out, you don't need to show Luke how pathetic you are, fucking leaking on his slacks just from his crude words. You don't even register the rock of your hips against his thigh until a soft moan slips from your lips, catching Luke's attention, his eyes briefly flickering to you.

And fuck is it hot. Your eyes slowly flutter shut as your hips roll in slow motions, the friction from the fabric forgotten, sensitive clit throbbing from your movements. Luke's jaw tenses, tearing his eyes away from the tempting sight, his cock twitching in his slacks.

Shame and embarrassment are out the window as you near your first orgasm, the explicit images of things you’ve only dreamt of unfolding behind your eyelids. You can only fucking imagine how Luke's fingers would feel inside you, the things he'd say as he's bottoming out inside of your tight heat. And it's suddenly overwhelming as you clench pathetically, throbbing against his thigh and your own legs shaking as you finish. "Fuck-"

Luke's eyes widen, biting hard at the inside of his cheek to keep his composure, the sound of you falling apart on his thigh sending a jolt straight to his aching cock. He wants nothing more than to bend you over his desk and fuck the daylights out of you until you’re drooling and forgetting your own goddamn name.

Reality comes crashing down as your orgasm passes, ragged breaths leaving your parted lips. Did you really just make yourself cum on your boss' thigh? "Luke-"

"Do it again."

"What?" You ask breathlessly, straightening your back, "You- you want me to do it again?"

"What did I say about shutting that pretty mouth of yours, Y/N? If I tell you to do something, do it," he scoffs, acting as though the sight of you cumming didn't turn him on even more, "If you're pathetic enough to do it once I'm sure you'll have no problem doing it again."

Your sensitive clit throbs helplessly as you swallow, white-knuckling the armrest and rocking your hips yet again. The swollen nub continuously brushing Luke's slacks has you choking down whimpers and whines, fearful of Luke's reaction to you making noise. Though, the idea of what he'll do if you don't comply lingers in your hazy mind.

The intermittent bounce of Luke's leg isn't doing you any favors either, little uh uh's leaving your parted lips.

You’re fucking drenched, the thin fabric of your lace underwear doing nothing to keep your arousal from coating Luke's thigh as you roll and rock your hips a bit quicker, your second orgasm creeping up on you, your head tossing back when a low, drawn-out whine leaves your lips, cumming for the second time like a pathetic whore.

And Luke fucking loves every goddamn second of it.

Attempting to calm yourself down from your release, thighs still trembling, Luke tosses the file onto his desk. He hadn't read a damn word of it anyway, not when you’re grinding your pretty little cunt against his thigh like a slut.

Suddenly embarrassed, your cheeks flush a deep crimson shade as you realize what you’ve done. You’ve soaked the fabric of Luke's slacks with your release, your own goddamn boss. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Don't say another word," he firmly cuts you off, "Get on your fucking knees."

"Why-"

"I'm honestly so fucking tired of listening to you, Y/N," Luke's tone lowers, a scoff leaving his lips, watching as you scramble to the floor. "Gonna shut you up, make good use of that stupid fucking mouth of yours."

Catching sight of the wet patch on his slacks, he nearly groans, ringed fingers fumbling with his belt buckle in record time, desperate for the release of his achingly hard cock. You seem to catch on, widened doey eyes flickering up to Luke's, your hands neatly folded in your lap. Luke pulls his slacks down just enough to allow his length to be exposed, not wanting to show an ounce of vulnerability to you. You don't deserve a sweet intimate moment, you deserve to be fucking ruined.

"Open your mouth," he grunts, hissing as he grasps the base of his cock, your lips parting slowly, the blonde stepping forward and guiding the tip past your lips. "Wanna see you choke on my cock."

He doesn't give you a moment to register his words before he's thrusting fully into your mouth, tip poking the back of your throat and a choking sound emitting from your lips. You scramble to grasp at the backs of his thighs to keep yourself steady. The sight of your sparkly lipgloss coating his cock is so fucking intoxicating and he wonders why he hadn't thought of it sooner.

Using his hands to grasp your hair quite roughly, he continues to fuck into your mouth at a degrading pace, not allowing you to adjust to the forceful movements. Choking and gagging sounds fill the otherwise quiet room, spit dribbling from your lips. "Yeah, you like choking on my cock, Y/N? So much better than hearing you fuckin' talk."

Your nails dig into the fabric of his pants, a grunt leaving Luke's lips as his hips continue thrusting his cock into your mouth. You can barely take all of him, the base nearly untouched. "All you're fuckin' good for, hm?"

And suddenly he's removing himself from your mouth, chest heaving from how fucking wrecked you already look, the small tears pooling your waterline smudging the mascara you'd put on. "As much as I wanna watch you swallow for me," he heaves out, "I wanna feel that pretty fuckin' pussy of yours."

A pathetic whimper leaves your lips, clenching around nothing as you remain on your knees before him, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips and the reddened, aching tip of Luke's cock. "You want me inside you?" he asks.

You have no words, honestly, the burn left behind in your throat from Luke's forceful thrusts halts you from speaking. Instead, you nod. "No, I want to hear you fuckin' say it, Y/N. I'm not an asshole."

"Yes," you weakly respond, "I want you."

"Good. Take that fuckin' dress off while you're at it."

Your shaky and frail fingers grasp the hemline of your dress hesitantly, eyes flickering between his leaking cock and his firm gaze, pulling the fitted material over your head and tossing it aside. Now sat in nothing but a pair of soaked, white lace panties and your heels, Luke's eyes fall on your bare breasts. "So fuckin' pretty."

"Luke-" you whimper quietly.

"Shut up," his hands reach beneath your arms, pulling you to your feet. Luke reaches around you, large hand swiping the array of documents off of his desk, sending them to the floor with a thud. You release a soft gasp when your bare backside meets the cool wooden desk, "Can't say I've never thought about this."

Luke's hands fall to your hips, gripping the skin roughly, and guiding you down until your back is flush with the desk, legs spread pathetically, displaying your clothed core to him. "God, you're so fucking soaked it's pathetic," he laughs lowly, shaking his head, and trailing a finger along the dampened material, coated in your previous orgasms and current arousal. He sends a soft smack with the back of his hand to your swollen clit, causing a whimper to leave your lips. "You'll let me have you any way I want, huh?"

"Luke-"

"Don't talk, I already know the answer," he raises your legs so your heels are resting on the edge of the desk, fingers ghosting the inside of your thighs teasingly, "Because here you are, spread out on my fucking desk like the whore you are."

"Please-"

"God, you just can't listen, huh?" his hands retreat from your skin, fumbling with his necktie, folding it into a neat little square. "I said I don't wanna hear you, Y/N." leaning over you, the tip of his cock pressing against your clothed core, he forces the folded tie between your lips, gagging you. "There, much better."

Luke works quickly to pull the pathetic excuse for underwear down your legs, tossing them alongside your dress on the floor. His cock twitches at the sight of you, fucking glistening and leaking just for him. He trails two fingers up your wetness, slicking his cock with your arousal, and prodding the tip against you. "Look at me," he says, hovering over you, hands on either side of your head. Hesitantly, you meet his eyes, your own widening, "Wanna watch you take my fucking cock."

You look so fucking pretty all gagged up for him. Running his tongue along his lower lip, he roughly juts his hips forward, instantly bottoming out and a muffled scream leaves your lips at the stretch. The tears that brimmed your eyes previously begin to fall, feeling so full, "Fuck," he hums lowly.

He rocks his hips a few times, watching as your eyes practically roll back into your head. And god does that make him so fucking proud, staring at you as drool slowly dribbles from yourr lips. He halts, roughly tugging the tie from your mouth, fingers gathering the spit and shoving it between your lips. "Don't be messy," he tuts, before placing the tie back, "Already fuckin' droolin' like a whore and I'm barely getting started."

Luke retracts his cock, hands grasping at your hips and flipping your body, the sound of your stomach colliding with the wooden desk echoing through the room. "I don't wanna look at you," he says, palming the skin of your backside before smacking the smooth flesh. He realigns himself with your entrance, one hand splayed on your bare back to hold you in place.

Roughly thrusting inside once again, the moans and muffled choked sobs barely reach Luke's ears, too fucking entranced by the feeling of your tight little cunt taking him so well. "This," he rocks his hips forcefully, "Is fuckin' mine. Anytime I goddamn want it, you're gonna give it to me."

You scramble to grab the opposite edge of Luke's desk, white knuckling it as he forcefully pounds into you, so fucking deep and quick you can barely breathe. "Such a tight fuckin' cunt," he groans, fingernails scraping along your back, "Taking my cock like a good fuckin' slut."

Instinctively you clench around him, eliciting a deep borderline growl from Luke's throat, hand previously raking down your back finding your hair, fisting the strands between his fingers and yanking you backwards until you’re halfway to his chest. You rest your palms flat on the desk, eyes pinched shut in pleasure while he continues fucking into you at an unruly pace.

"Clench again for me," he moans out, feeling the muscles in his stomach tighten, his orgasm slowly beginning to build. You comply, your thighs trembling, clenching as hard as you can. "Fuckin' god," Luke tosses his head back, eyelids fluttering shut in pure bliss.

You choke out another moan around the tie in your mouth, unable to warn the blonde of your third orgasm that's quickly approaching as he continuously pokes the perfect spot so fucking deep inside you’re nearly a drooling mess. The hand not entangled in your hair grips one of your breasts roughly, sending you over the edge in a series of muffled cries. Tears stream down your cheeks, cunt tightening around Luke yet again, the blonde hissing as he feels your release coat his cock, the slick sound of his thrusts growing louder.

"Fuckin' milkin' my cock like a whore," he spits out, grip tightening on your hair as he pulls you closer, thrusting into you impossibly harder. You can't fucking think, you’re a dizzy mess and can hardly form a thought. You can't even feel the drool pooling from the edges of your lips. "Gonna fill up that sweet little cunt of yours and make you mine."

Luke pulls you flush to his chest, your head lolling against his shoulder. Though he isn't one for kissing, he doesn't hesitate to graze his teeth against your exposed neck, sinking them into the supple flesh as his hips begin to stutter, groaning against your neck as he releases inside. You wince at the rough bite on your neck but you’re too spent to care, leaning fully against him as he rocks through his orgasm.

You’re in a daze when he pulls out of you, nearly falling against the desk, the blonde quickly reaching for you to keep you upright. Though he's smug and feeling overly satisfied for ruining you, a swirl in his stomach tells him he needs to make sure you’re alright. He pulls the tie from your mouth, not commenting on the drool spilled from your lips. "Y'okay?"

You can't fucking speak.

Luke's brows furrow with worry, hand delicately grasping your jaw and searching your hazy eyes. Pupils blown out just like his, fresh tears lingering on your cheeks. "Oh, baby," the pet name falls from his lips effortlessly, "C'mon."

Tucking his softening cock into his pants and guiding you away from his desk and towards the couch, he plucks your heels from your feet. Though he'd never in a million years consider aftercare, he's stripping his button down from his broadened frame and slipping your arms inside, buttoning it to cover your exposed body. "Luke," you toss your head back onto the plush couch.

"Hm?" he hums softly.

"I need to- need to clean up," you rasp quietly, a hint of a blush on your cheeks, head reeling from the soreness between your thighs.

"That's what m'here for," he coos sweetly, though the smirk of his lips has you swallowing thickly. His ringed hands trail along your warm and flushed skin, parting your trembling thighs, the sight of his release slowly dribbling out of your sweet cunt nearly has his cock stiffening in his slacks again. "Mm, such a pretty wrecked little pussy."

A gasp leaves your lips as he leans forward, nose brushing your lower stomach, tongue gathering his cum from your sensitive folds. Lapping up every fucking drop, Luke straightens himself out, reaching a hand towards your swollen lips and parting them with his thumb. You’re beyond confused as he tightly grips your jaw, before spitting the contents into your own mouth. Swiping any remnants from his own lips, he narrows his eyes. "Fuckin' swallow."

Clasping your pretty lips shut, you comply, feeling a stir in your stomach when your eyes meet, and swallow.

"My good fuckin' girl."

[frenchgremlim1808]

Why Midori is such a breath of fresh air or how to actually write a Villain.

So the awaited essay, the winner of the FrenchGremlin polls of laziness finally has come! It took some time but it’s finally over. If your choice didn’t get chosen that’s okay! I’ll repost a new poll with old and newer options. Please reblog this one i put a lot of time in it, it's like, five pages long over a silly goose. Also sorry for the grammar i sucks and i'm not native. So let’s begin:

(also here is the link to the video format)

So first let’s make things clear, What IS a villain?

“A villain is a character whose evil actions or motives are important to the plot.” That is why I do want to make a difference between a villain and an antagonist, an antagonist is a character who are a plot devices that creates obstruction to the protagonist. That means that a villain is forced to be an antagonist while an antagonist is not forced to be a villain. For example shin is an antagonist but not a villain, he is driven by selfish desires which are themselves fueled by fear anger and loss, he is the protagonist of his own story and is a sympathetic character despite it all, and Midori is just a bitch. Midori falls under multiple stereotypes of villains. Such as “the mastermind”, “evil incarnate” (lmao),”related to the protagonist” etc. Midori is evil, there is no denying in this, he is purely evil, and he doesn’t have a sad weepy backstory, he doesn’t feel empathy towards other, he is a despicable piece of shit who ruined so many lives. I won’t list everything but here is a list of his crimes, murder, assault, domestic abuse, grooming, verbal abuse, and torture, crimes against humanity lmao, stalking, violent crimes, and participation in a cult. And his worst crime is being a pussy bitch of course. So now that we have put the bases up let’s really begin.

Hollywood has a hate boner against villains and I hate them for that.

Recently Hollywood decided that pure evil bad guys is actually a bad thing, so now they decided to do stupid side story with them, to give them ”””depth””” since I guess how could we like those villains since they are bad. A great example of this is the Disney remakes which I loathe so much oh god I hate them. So first they did a maleficient it was okay honestly, then they did a freaking cruella movie where her mom gets killed by Dalmatians, that’s not a joke, in the peter and wendy movie that nobody saw they decided to have made the captain hook be a lost boy who was abandoned by the lost boys and peter, oh also they decided that PETER CUT HIS HANDS OFF AND LEFT HIM TO DIE BECAUSE HOOK WANTED TO SEE HIS FAMILY. They are going to do a freaking mufasa movie, in no time I can’t wait to have a Ursula movie where it’s discovered that ariel killed all of her family in cold blood or something’s. So you might say what’s the problem? I mean isn’t that supposed to make the story more interesting. No, no it doesn’t, because first they take all of the character personality traits and throw them in the bin, second they are supposed to be the vilain in a musical animated movies, I am not against complex villain, I love them, but by doing this, the original character doesn’t exist anymore. Just create original content with new interesting characters instead of doing stuff like this. Also it’s kind of funny than in all of those interpretation they take all the fun and sucks it out, what do I mean by fun, the gayness, Disney vilain are fun because they are camp, they are fabulous extravagant extra in all the ways possible, and that’s the reason we liked them. Not every character needs something super deep, like “my family was burned down at the stake and my dog was eaten by my ex”, sometimes we just like bad fun people, they are the story, and Hollywood hating them so bad just bothers me a lot. Also now the new thing is to not have a villain at all which can works in some narrative but not all of them, it gets boring after a while. In the past people were angry that villains are bland, but now I kind of miss it. While I will critique villains who have no purpose outside of being evil that’s dumb, like for example Voldemort is bland like white bread because his only motivation is being evil, but evil people do exist compared to what some Hollywood writers think, they should know. So that’s why I will put a difference between evil villains and villains whose only purpose is being evil; we loved Disney villains but they still had motivations, goals, reasons that to them a least were worth everything. World domination isn’t enough, why do you want world domination, what is the true reason deep in your heart, is it an inferiority complex, is it a savior complex fuelled by xenophobic beliefs.

That is how to write a pure evil villain, evil people exist all over the world, but I have never seen one who doesn’t have they own reasons to be so bad, it doesn’t excuse their actions nor really explains them. We do not want justifications we want explanations. If you are justifying evil behavior then do it, but don’t claim that it is a pure evil character. A pure evil character can be fun, can be interesting, he can be deep, it’s all about balancing all of their traits to truly make them greats. Which is why midori succeeds while current villains fail. Current stupid remake/spin off try to justify the behavior because they feel like this is what the audience wants, but it’s not what we need. So I will defend to the grave evil villains.

Creating an evil villain doesn’t make them boring guys.

Why the heck does big budget movies have either the blandest protagonist or the blandest villains sometimes both, like I said evil people do exist but comically evil character only works in satire not in a serious multiple millions of dollar movie. Example that boring ass avatar movie, the one with blue people, none of the characters are interesting the villain is one note. The lords of the rings also suffers from that, but I don’t care because the protagonist are so awesome that sauron being personality less doesn’t matter. Also sauron is more of a force of nature villains so it’s not the same. The recent kingsman movie has a bland one note villain, there is nothing entertaining, funny, about him he’s just evil, borrrrring. Every Disney remakes depiction of the characters are boring. I just feel bored out of my mind. Atla one of my favorite shows of all time has a main villain that’s kinda one note, Ozai, but he is actually intimidating guy, azula is the superior character, but I wouldn’t consider her a villain she is an antagonist though. I honestly don’t get why Hollywood thinks that just creating a character with no personality and whose only goals is to be evil is good.

So back to midori for a second, here is my question, when midori was on screen did you ever feel bored? Never right! Because despite midori being an evil character he has an actual personality, he’s fun, you want to punch him in the balls. Because midori has other personality traits than evil, midori is petty, childish, extremely intelligent, controlling, a natural manipulator, he is a trickster, he doesn’t seem to get some social norms, he is narcissistic, easily angry, and fears death etc See how I counted a lot of traits, traits that in other character would works, midori has positive traits, and I think that is the best thing nankidai could have ever done, midori has traits that a regular person could have. Which is why if I put midori in any settings his character would work.

Example, instead of a death game the cast is under the sea to discover the insane wildlife and supernatural stuff happening, what would midori do in this situation? Well he would very passionate about finding all of what’s happening, he’ll do anything to find out, even sometime sacrificing others, not only will he try to find what’s happening, but he is also going to try to find a way to make this discovery favour him in the end. Or let’s imagine it’s a vampire situation, where a vampire attacks  the city, midori would try to stop it, not because he cares, but to experiment on them to get their biology and finds the real secret of immortality since he fears death.

Here is my second advice, after creating your character try to imagine them in another completely different situation, like normal life, or a fantasy world, ask yourself the question what would they do in that environment? If you can find a real complete explanation of their actions then yes your character has multiples dimensions if not try thinking about it again. Some example of questions I do want to point out are some like “if my character had all the power in the world what would they do first or”, “if my character had only a day left to live what would they do”

Why is Current media incapable of creating good threats like bruhhhh.

Okay so first of all let’s talk about stakes in a story, let’s say you are watching a slasher movie, slowly the cast gets slimmed down and people die in horrible ways, that should set stakes right ? Well if the villain is an absolute buffoon who makes the stupidest actions and decisions in the world, you wouldn’t feel intimidated at all because despite what the filmmaker might try to say the plot armor will NEVER make a character intimidating. It’s just like a detective character who just seems to know everything without a thought, well you won’t really fear the character failing. Worse is the the final girl, who is for some reason always escaping the slasher guy by pure luck every time, she is shown as incompetent but still she survives, which make the villain seem completely incapable so now you feel nothing.

To avoid this filmmaker often use techniques such has unpredictability, I mean good I mean good ones, for example instead of immediately seeing whose going to survive because the black guys always dies first and the virgin white woman is the last survivor, change the status quo, make us think that this character is obviously safe while they actually aren’t at all. Or actually make them menacing by SHOWING to the audience how horrible dangerous they can be. Which is why SHOW DON’T TELL is so important, telling us how dangerous someone can be only to see them get beaten to death at the end of the movie makes us feel nothing.

Midori felt like a impossible person to beat, he is smart, had twenty plans in advance, even in situation where the cast felt like they might have a chance he was always armed, just like the gun he promised to use or the rocket punch. When they felt like they were finally advancing, he put obstacle in their ways, such as the collar game or the moment he put the collar on explode mode for  ranmaru. The entire point in the murder game was to make time pass, it took a long time for the cast top realize that this whole time they were losing precious time not realizing that the dummies were the real problem. The characters that made you feel the most hopeless were the dummies, if you won by killing midori they would die, but if you lost you might lose people you love (keiji or gin). It felt hopeless because they were no solutions in the end. That creates tension so that creates stakes. If we were told how dangerous unpredictable sou was then it wouldn’t hit the same, we are shown that he is that terrible. There is a scene ingame where bbg shin ai tells us that midori tortured and like to destroy people. That’s exposition so TELL, but do you why it works, because we are SHOWN before his behavior. Midori felt unbeatable, so the fact that we were shown his weakness such has his petty behavior, hatred of minors, and fear of death, for the first time it feels like there is a chance that we might survive this. And still after he isn’t shown has an incompetent buffoon, he is one, but the narrative doesn’t show us that he is.

What is also consider is good to make the audience feel actual stakes is to first really develop well the main characters, how can we feel worry for a character if we don’t know them, the audience need to feels emotional connection to the main cast to actually care. You can use things such has moments where there is nothing special happening just character talking getting to know them. Make us feel why we need to care about them possibly losing, instead of being indifferent. Or I don’t know maybe make an entire spin off game where we get to have the cast talk to each other and seeing dynamics between character that died early to get them a chance to shine and make their death even more tragic, or even make mini episodes of characters who only got a single chapter to show off their characteristic, to get us to know them better? But that’s just a silly idea of course, wink, and wink.

My favorite thing about Midori is that he is actually pathetic, like really pathetic, but weirdly realistic?

Midori is the most pathetic character in the cast, yes more than shin, shin is leagues less pathetic. No I’m not saying that midori is not intimidating or scary, I would piss myself if I saw him. He’s a scary guy. But if you look at him more closely you can see that he is a baby brat in a big boy suit.

So let’s start by something clear, Sou Hiyori clearly displays antisocial behavior, or in common terms he is a psychopath/sociopath, this illness is very badly seen in medias, I am not saying that people who lacks empathy like him are inherently bad, he is, a lot of people with antisocial behavior actually suffers a lot and have a difficult life. Sou real issues is not his antisocial behavior, it’s his narcissism and god complex. Sou feels the need to HAVE CONTROL over others, he like the feeling of being in power, he sees the rest of the world has beneath him, toys for his pleasure. He says that he “really like humans” because despite it all he seems to put himself in a different categories than regular people, they are beneath him. When he loses control his calm and cool behavior disappears and we see his true face, a grown man who has throws a tantrum like a baby. One of the best representation of this is midori views on the cast:

Midori hates kanna, like no jokes he has beef with her, a fourteen years old, actually he has beef with a lot of people in the cast. Midori views emotional people has weak, people who are loving optimistic as beneath him and useless. He preferred when sara was cruel and horrible, that’s what he loved about her, he liked seeing her scary emotionless side. But Kanna, kanna is everything he hates. A crybaby who not only puts the group in harmony, is a source of hope in general, is the reason he near got to have closure with shin (killing him), he views kanna as “not fun shin”. We have many proofs for this, if you type the word kanna kizuchi he says this: “Poor Kanna'd weep! I think a more worthless name would be better for someone like me” He mocks her, but also himself (I’lll come back on this later), he calls her worthless. Also in the electric charge minigame, when he can choose who to shocks he chooses two people in particular, kanna who he hates and hinako who ruined his fun by giving the cast a chance in saving ranmaru. But he does also says mean spirited stuff to other people, qtaro and gin. He also says some sarcastic comments about nao and joe, saying that it’s such a shame that they died so young. But you might say why kanna especially? Because he is a petty baby who is jealous of kanna, Yes jealous, of kanna, a fourteen years old. Because he feels like she stole his hubby wubby shin away from him…. God I hate him. And you know what that make him a pathetic idiot, after the scene where kanna beats his ass, he’s all mad and like “uhh I’m going to pout I wanted you to cry like a lot, now I’m gonna cry”. An that’s actually god, because it humanize him, he wants need thoughts, he isn’t one note, and that’s the most important!

Sou is a villain but before that he is a character, a fully developed character, and THAT’S WHAT MAKE HIM GREAT, Sou works because he works realistically, I mean if you forget the robot part, it’s easy to imagine a narcissist man child who needs to feel in power towards other, so his main prey are young vulnerable people.Which leads me to my next point:

Sou is a failure like really, and we aren’t sad for him.

Sou failed everything he worked on, he failed to get the paper from alice, he failed whith shin since he had to leave earlier than he thought he would leave, because of his mistake he lost his position in the death game, then he failed to kill gin or keiji, and then he died like an idiot losing his cool and acting like a toddler. And he knows it that why he is a bit self-hating (he should be). And yet none of us feel any sympathy towards him, why? Because sou is one of the most despicable guy in existence. He is a disgusting pervert, sadistic asshole, and abusive narcissistic cunt who thinks he is better than everyone. From the bottom of my heart I hate him sooooo much he is literally the character I hate the most in existence. He abused shin, ruined keiji’s life, traumatized the entire cast, literally assaulted sara like he physically assaulted her. He mocked nao and joe and kugie life as useless. He is an obsessive jerk AND I HATE HIM. And you know what…… It’s good. Like I actually feel a lot of emotions when I think about him, he fuels me with anger and disgust, and if your characters can make me feel that much rage then you did it, you created an actual perfect character. Hiyori is such a shit person that I think about him a lot, writers shouldn’t be scared to make a character such hittable assholes, example bojack horseman in bojack horseman is the vilest man on earth and I love it, because I genuinely hate him. Just like I genuinely love kanna, like really I really love her, I in the same time despise midori so bad. We hate him because he is horrible to good people that WE KNOW AND CARE ABOUT, not random npcs. There is a lot of… disgusting implications in his story with shin that I will not talk about it makes me really uncomfortable right now. SO HERE IS A VERY TACKY TRANSITION TO TALK ABOUT WHY I HATE JUNKO FROM DANGANRONPA.

Junko is boring, that’s it, she is boring, not funny not interesting, she is a fetish, she is the biggest Mary sue on earth, she is a gross character made to make fun of people with disabilities and queer people. Her only traits is being crazy, that’s it. I wouldn’t call midori that crazy actually, he’s methodical calculated, and precise. Crazyness is a term for people who aren’t in control of their actions and delusional about reality, sou is not crazy, he knows what he is doing, he is in full control, while characters like shin should actually be consider crazy, like shin is actually crazy but sou isn’t.

Conclusion:

Sou is a breath of fresh air, because nankidai had the balls to write an actually interesting deep and threatening character AND make him a villain. He didn’t fall into the trap of making him have a sad backstory or good motives, sou is just selfish, that’s all he is. He make him a fun entertaining guy who you absolutely hates, he made him threatening and at the same time a complete doofus. He made him humane and pathetic.

But the thing that make me love nankidai the most is this

The fact that he actually killed him that takes courage as a writer to just end a character THAT WAY, which is why midori will never come back alive he is forever dead. And that take a lot of talents as a writer to just take one of the most important characters and just get him drilled to death in the anus, like dammn nankidai you are a savage. That fact alone makes him one of the best characters in game, I hate him as a person, but has a character he is a masterpiece.

Though Kanna could solo him

this was posted as a video on my blog this is mainly so people who don't want to stay there reading a 24 minute video of my stuttering can have a bit of quiet

[beyondfabric]

Introducing: Mr. Archive

What better way to kickstart 2024 than with one the most beautifully curated, styled and fair-priced vintage stores out there?

Mr. Archive has been one of my go-to places the last few months, be it for visual inspiration on their instagram profile or the browse some of the most interesting pieces around. To be fair, after 15 years of working in this industry is getting more and more difficult for me to find garments and brands that are truly exciting and fresh. If on top of that we take into account the price point of some of these labels, many of which produce in Portugal with accessible costs, my enthusiasm dims even further.

I’ve always been passionate about the universe of vintage and pre worn garments, but this love has been fueled in recent years by the appearance of highly specialized shops that seem to be perfectly in tune with my personal style. I’ve had the chance to chat with Matteo, the mastermind behind Mr. Archive to learn more about this outstanding project.

BF: I came across Mr. Archive fairly recently and I must say that it definitely hit a soft spot within the range of vintage providers currently on my radar. How long have you been in business? What drove you to create it?

Matteo: I'm passionate about my job, believe I have a somewhat general knowledge of the fashion world, but about 4 years ago, I got fascinated by this industry, even though I already knew it. I come from a family that has always worked in the clothing industry.

BF: For me, your selection is perfectly curated, bringing a mix of military and navy-inspired garments, with a twist of Americana. Is this an extension of your own style and taste, or is it more business-oriented?

Matteo: What I propose is all based on my personal taste; I create outfits on the spot, drawing inspiration from magazines, newspapers, etc., and then I elaborate and create. My mom is an artist, and I think I took inspiration from her.

BF: Vintage has always inspired me ever since I got into fashion roughly 15 years ago. There's just something distinctive about the fabrics and the history behind each garment that you can not replicate with new items. How/where do you source your amazing selection?

Matteo: My pieces come from warehouses worldwide; I'm constantly looking for new things, and that's the wonderful thing about my job! I have strong trust in my suppliers!

BF: With sustainability being the word of order when it comes to fashion, have you noticed an increase in demand for pre-owned garments? Do you think part of the solution can be provided by vintage?

Matteo: Recently, there has been an increase in the purchase of vintage and second-hand clothing items. To be honest, I believe that a few years ago, not many people knew about this world, but now it's expanding and captivating even those who knew little about it.

BF: I noticed you have a small capsule of garments carrying your own label, namely selvedge denim and accessories. What's the story behind those? Can we expect more designs in the future?

Matteo: I won't deny that creating my own clothing line would be a great personal satisfaction, a significant growth. I recently created a small line, "MRARCHIVE," currently composed of jackets, pants, and hats. One day, I'd like to expand, but I still have much to learn and study.

BF: Any tips or advice you wish to leave for those more reluctant to explore the world of previously owned items? It's still somewhat taboo for some people.

For many people, this world is still a taboo; they're still stuck in the thought of "they're used clothes." What I think is that one should see the story and originality behind each piece to appreciate its value, both from a historical and an aesthetic perspective. Sometimes, I compare some clothing items to paintings—they should be framed.

You can find Mr. Archive here.

[basilone]

Folks, I hope whichever writing you’re working on today creates joy for you!

Just this past week, I wrote a good 3k worth of words that were born from an idea 2AM me had. 2AM me is a different animal, you know. 😉 2AM me does not really care about what I’m “supposed to be working on”. 2AM me sees my prompt-filled inbox and shrugs at it. 2AM me has never met an outline she can’t ruin, has never encountered writer’s block once she gets going, and has most certainly never given a hoot about if there are going to be people willing to read the thing. 2AM me cares about one thing and one thing only: does writing this vague idea fill me with complete and utter joy?

So. Here I am. 3k words into a mafia AU that will likely not see publication beyond a groupchat with friends. 3k words into a story that features no canon characters from the shows we love, but features several of my original characters instead. 3k words into a story that is, in no particular order, doing the following: feeding my love for particular tropes, allowing me to explore my OCs in a different setting, giving me a better handle on how my OCs express certain emotions and ideas, fueling and clarifying certain aspects of the main fic these OCs inhabit, and taking away all my self-imposed pressures about needing to have a finished and publishable story as “proof” that I have spent my precious free time well by being productive.

And, friends, I’m having a blast. I’ve talked some of my friends to death about this already because I’m so excited. I’ve spent more time working on the outline for my actual fic in this past week than I have in all the weeks of this year so far because writing this silly AU gave me the confidence boost to sit down and figure that out. (That pesky outline that's been eluding me for months? Pretty much complete at the time I write this.) I’ve gained a truckload of stuff to use as special tools that will help other writing later on. And it’s all made possible because 2AM me had an idea and morning me went “well okay why not try it on for size just once”.

So, I’m writing you a permission slip. Work on what sparks joy. Work on something that inspires love in you for an aspect of your storytelling, for your characters, for the world you’re creating in. Forget about your inbox and comments and requests. Forget about your WIPs you’re either rotating in your head or threatening to smack like a piñata until the complete fic rolls out. Forget about prompts, polls, and whatever you think people’s expectations of your writing are. Work on the little idea you can’t shake, the OC that’s bugging you, the ship that won’t let go, the AU that can fit soooooo many tropes in it, and I promise you that all your other writing is going to fall into place too.

Give yourself the opportunity to love and be joyful about your creativity! I’m allowing it! 💙

[gffa]

I saw your post defending the way Jedi adopt the children/accept them into their culture, and I absolutely loved it! It was so well-informed, and you are right: It is all there in the original content!

I find it very ironic that many people spew these lies about the Jedi when that’s exactly what the Empire did. Iirc, this argument of Jedi being “kidnappers” was actually fueled by Emperor Palpatine and the Empire in their campaign against the Jedi. They wanted to discredit them and make the people turn against them so that they could erase them all more easily. So I find it very ironic that these lies are now being upheld by some people as the truth. (Really, have people forgotten the Empire was created bases on the Nazi’s and their own racist strategies?)

You are not inmune to the Empire’s propaganda.

Please correct me if I’m wrong. I’m not as good at pulling examples and proof from all the SW content as you are.

Hi! Thank you for the very sweet ask! Navigating stuff in fandom like this can be difficult at times, because there has to be room for compassion and tolerance for disagreement, like it's fine if people disagree with my views, I'm not your mom, I'm not telling you want to do or say, especially since this is fiction, these are made up space stories. But there also has to be room to understand that sometimes our commentary on fictional stories are echoes of reflection of real world attitudes--we can't just go around spewing racist, sexist, homophobic commentary and be like, "It's just fiction, you can't get upset!" There's no easy line for any of this, no single hard set in stone rule for when it's truly just fiction and when it's an echo of a real world attitude, especially in Star Wars, which often draws influence from a lot of non-Western sources and traditional Western sources. (My general rule of thumb is: I think it's fair to criticize those things through the influences they have, but if your criticism is then ended with, "So that's why we shouldn't have or acknowledge any Buddhism/Black people/queer people/women in Star Wars!" then fuck right on off with that.) And I also understand a lot of the anti-Jedi attitudes (or at least what I've personally experienced of them) because I've talked a bunch of times about how I started out as pretty Jedi-critical myself! I did the whole, "They had grown stagnant and refused to evolve with the galaxy, so they needed to be wiped out." thing because nobody had framed it explicitly as what it was: a genocide. It wasn't until a friend and I were talking and they mentioned that lens of it that it just sort of crashed down on me, oh, that's literally what it was and genocide is never justifiable. I did the whole, "The Jedi failed Anakin and taught him to repress his emotions." thing as well, because I saw it all over the place in fandom and just automatically folded it into my view, until I went back and actually watched Lucas' movies and Lucas' animation (first six movies + first six seasons of TCW) and read his interviews, which blew me onto my ass when I saw Obi-Wan being supportive of Anakin, when I saw Anakin not listening to the advice he was given, when I saw that Jedi were expressing emotion all over the place, when I saw they were respecting other Force traditions in the galaxy. I can't speak to why so many people think badly of the Jedi, there's probably a thousand reasons and I'm only vaguely aware of like half of them, but I do think that it's often unpopular to promote the idea of emotional regulation already being achieved, instead of something to be struggled with. I think we're all primed by a lot of mainstream media saying that an explosion of anger is what will save the day. I think there's so much anger in the world today that we're all angry and being told to let go of it feels really insulting at times. (But, as someone who has lost years of my life when I was younger to anger, I gotta say, I am so much better off having let go of as much of that shit as I can. It was poison in my veins, carrying that anger around. I lost so many friendships and opportunities and just time to being miserably mad about stuff.)

I'm getting off topic of the kidnapping aspect about the Jedi, but a lot of it starts to swirl together in what I've experienced (especially people who try to put this stuff on my posts--thankfully, that's died down/I block the people who won't respect boundaries) and so I kind of bounce from one aspect of it to another.

I do think it's good to talk about these things--both from "it's fun to analyze the content of the story on a meta level" perspective and "here's how this echoes into and from the real world" perspective, like I enjoy saying, okay, here's what's actually said in the movies/TCW, but also I think talking about how the Jedi are Buddhist influenced is important because that means they're going to have values that are meant to be reflected in that and Western fandom has a really big problem of being derisive about non-Western influences or automatically saying they're wrong. (I come from anime/manga fandoms, let me tell you, it's a big problem.)

And, yeah, in a way where it's really awful, but I think one of the most well-done things Disney's Star Wars has done is that it's really focused on showing that the Empire was a fascist one and the propaganda they used about the Jedi are ones that are super relevant to the conversation.

[witch-and-her-witcher]

Silver Lining

azris | T | undercover, canonverse, no magic, one bed | 3.4k

A very happy @acotargiftexchange to @bubybubsters! Although we aren't your original secret santas, @octobers-veryown has created this dashing moodboard to accompany the gift fic below I have written. We hope these tick a few of your likes from your list: secretly good/High Lord Eris, a hint of Feysand and Elucien, and of course - The One Bed Trope.

Many thanks to the darlings @queercontrarian and @popjunkie42-blog for the quick and efficient beta reads!! <3

ao3

~*~

“So we’ve reached our decision?”

“All in favor say ‘aye’.”

The chorus of resounding confirmations come from around the table. Each one is like another hot coal added to fuel Azriel’s ire where he stands back, leaning against one of the House of Winds’ red walls.

Elain and Lucien, acting as the representatives of Day Court, are the last vote. Elain’s eyes flicker to Azriel, apologetic, before she nods towards Lucien.

“Aye,” Lucien enunciates, threading his fingers through his mate’s above the tabletop. There was a time it would have eaten Azriel alive to see such a display, but now he only cares about the fate all those gathered today have sealed for him.

Feyre clears her throat where she and Rhys stand tall at the head of the table of the gathered High Lords, High Ladies, and their representatives. “Then it’s decided. High Lord Eris will travel to his contact in the south of the mortal realms under cover … aided by the Night Court’s Shadowsinger. Both of you hold the fate of Prythian in the success of your mission, travel swiftly and with the grace of Mother on your side. We’ll prepare whatever you may need for your journey.”

Shadows writhe around him as Azriel fights to control the swell of conflicting emotions. Of all the fae to be forced to safeguard —

“Give us time to discuss details and we can present an itemized list to the Council?”

The Autumn lilt in Eris’s speech grates Az’s nerves for no reason other than the male’s tongue has no right to sound so pleasant. 

“The Council grants two hours. Speed and secrecy are our only allies in this mission.”

“Understood.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

A muscle twitches in Azriel’s jaw. “What other choice was presented to me?”

Eris’s muscles bound together under the collar of his finely embroidered tunic as he shifts through paperwork, dips his quill in ink, and begins jotting down a list. He doesn’t look up as he answers, “I can find another spy’s service. You were readily available, that’s why your High Lady volunteered you. But considering …”

Azriel waits impatiently for Eris to collect or finish his thought — or to stop pausing for dramatic effect, whatever it is he’s trying to accomplish with this oddly cordial conversation.

Russet eyes flicker up to him. “Considering our history, I would understand if you wish to decline. The nature of this mission requires a complete trust in each other and if you still harbor ill will towards me because of a centuries old feud, I must insist you back out. I’m the High Lord now, my people require I return. They require this mission is a success.”

Reasonable.

So gods-damned reasonable.

Where is the arrogant prick he’d lunged across a table over a century ago to choke?

Azriel’s wings ruffle with annoyance. He’d heard Eris has changed with the relief of Beron’s death, has grown into himself as High Lord and no longer has the time to spend stirring up trouble for the sake of it.

He’s heard he’s a changed male. Living up to the words another had said to him about “being a good male under it all.”

But he hadn’t believed it.

Until now.

The shadows whisper of the sincerity the High Lord speaks with. They also whisper that no spy readily available in the Prythian network will be as good, as reliable, as seasoned, as Azriel.

Certain death, they whisper, unless it’s you, Master.

Something twists in his gut as he watches the proud male, his sharp jaw and freckle smattered cheek bones, assessing the documents in front of him once more. Writing down his list of supplies to request from the Council: cloaks of invisibility, lamas bread, a network of mounts prepared for them at predetermined way points.

It will be hard riding, hard living without the use of their own magic. Only their common sense, weapons knowledge, and a few enchanted items will be between them and death on foreign soil.

It’s for Prythian, he tells himself as Azriel moves close enough to feel the body heat pouring off of the High Lord of flames.

“I have contacts with a new enchanted shroud that has improved upon the cloak of invisibility's flaws. They’re expensive as hell … But let the Council dip into their coffers.”

Eris peers over his shoulder, cunning mouth twisting into a smirk as he watches Azriel’s flowing script as he adds to the request list.

“Let bygones be bygones?”

“A temporary amnesty, lets say.”

“Alright, Shadowsinger.”

“Some day, I would like to not be embroiled directly in life or death plots,” Eris mutters, stretching his legs as they dismount their exhausted mounts.

They’ve been riding hard for nearly twenty-four hours straight and have swapped horses thrice.

Azriel has never known such pain as the ache in his seat, in his knees, even in his shoulders from holding himself balanced on his horse while they have trotted most of those hours, sometimes breaking into full canters in stretches of path Eris deems too dangerous to linger on.

They’re now at their first rest spot since entering the southernmost duchy of the mortal realms. It’s a desolate mountain town, but Eris recollects from travels past that it's the safest.

Azriel dismounts and tries not to lose his balance, the glamor that has hidden his wings and other more fae features does nothing to assist with the odd balance he’s needing to learn quickly without their weight.

“That will be the day Eris Vanserra is found dead.”

“Touche.”

Azriel nearly smiles at the omission. He has to catch himself to remember despite the truce he doesn’t fully trust this male. It goes against what they agreed upon, but since it wasn’t an official bargain … Azriel watches the swagger Eris approaches the inn with, the soldier of his youth replacing the mighty High Lord as the glamor has rounded out his ears, dimmed the luster of his fiery locks so its merely enchanting rather than breathtaking to watch the curls of his longer pieces of hair along his neck —

Enchanting?

Azriel pinches the bridge of his nose.

Too long in the saddle. Too many days on lamas bread alone.

“I need a hot meal and bed,” Eris says to Azriel as he holds the door open, “If memory serves, this place serves a hearty stew and non-moldy bread.”

The tavern on the bottom floor of the inn is crowded with all types — mostly sellswords, likely half moonlighting as the bandits that haunt these routes, but there’s a few distinguishable merchants as well. The number of people overflowing from the bar, the tables, and even the dance floor where the band is playing a lively jig, makes Azriel’s skin crawl.

Without his shadows, he feels naked. Exposed. Vulnerable.

The only blessing is the Illyrian broadsword strapped to his back and Truth-Teller on his thigh.

“Get us food while I get our rooms?” Eris asks, surveying the crowd. Although he doesn’t appear outwardly nervous, there’s an obvious calculating edge to that russet gaze.

If there are no rooms left, it will be a hell of a night sleeping in the stable with the horses for their already aching bodies.

Azriel nods wordlessly and heads for the barmaid.

She smiles prettily at him as he approaches — flashing her gaping smile, several teeth missing. Azriel keeps his features carefully controlled. It isn’t his first time interacting with humans, but for his purposes milling about average folk hasn’t been as necessary …

“What’ll it be, sir?” she begins pouring a stein of ale before he can ask. “For you and your partner, yes?”

Azriel straightens. “He’s not my —”

“ — business partner? But you rode in together. You two are nicer dressed than most of the business types that stop through. Fancy those swords are more expensive than this whole shitty inn, eh?”

“Likely not,” Azriel says with a frown. “Two hot meals, please.”

“Alright, alright, the strong, silent type. Got it. Don’t you worry, Greta will take care of you. Here’s your ale, I’ll get you a meal that will fill both of your bellies to bursting and maybe you’ll share some of those pretty coppers I know you have with Greta.”

Azriel takes the steins and tries to avoid eye contact with anyone else in the tavern. Even with the glamors, they stand out.

When Eris drops into the booth beside him — one Azriel acquired by swooping in before another raggedy band of humans could beat him to it, cowed only by his size to move on — he’s grimacing into the pale brown reflection in his drink. There’s a fly floating on the surface he’s been debating removing.

“We should have had Lucien give us less teeth in the glamor,” Eris grumbles.

Azriel looks up and notes the flush on the male’s face, the obvious aggravation in the tense draw of his shoulders.

“Tried to swindle you, too?”

“The astronomical rate the innkeep charged me and for one bloody room, Mother above.”

Azriel freezes. 

There’s only one key on the table between them.

Eris exhales into his drink before taking a strong pull of the weak alcohol. Azriel watches the bobbing of his throat as Eris swallows, the press of his lips as he removes the cup and the quick dart of his tongue to swipe any foam from his upper lip. It’s nearly distracting enough to pull his thoughts from the critical detail Eris seems to be brushing over.

“How many rooms?”

The High Lord looks at Azriel’s still full stein. “Why haven’t you — Cauldron, that’s disgusting. Go get a new one, why are you brooding over it instead?”

“Because Greta will shout to the tavern again that we are sizable targets to steal from and when I have to kick all of their asses, it’ll risk blowing our cover,” Azriel says through his teeth. “Eris. How. Many. Rooms.”

Eris clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth and shrugs, averting his gaze. “One. It’s all they had left.”

“How many beds?”

“Stop asking stupid questions.”

And just like that, the truce broken.

“It’s not stupid,” Azriel growls, and every overwrought nerve ending is screaming at him to reach across the table and strangle this good-for-nothing, spoiled High Lord with his nose in the air and complete disregard for —

“Grow up, Azriel. Haven’t you shared a bed before? You have brothers.”

“Not in centuries. I like my privacy.”

Eris shrugs. “You’re welcome to your privacy out with the horses then.”

“Prick.”

Their meals are set on the table in front of them. Eris smiles up at Greta and her lack of teeth and attempts to push her assets together in an enticing manner.

“My companion here needs a fresh ale, could you be a darling and get him one minus the fly?”

“Oh my! Oh no! Let me fix that right up!”

“No, it’s fine —”

Azriel and Eris lock stares across the table, all three of them grasping at the stein.

Greta fumbles, “Sir …Surely you don’t want to drink a fly?”

Eris’s russet eyes burn with repressed flames. “You’re not so uncivilized, right, Azriel?”

Damn him, of course Azriel doesn’t want a drink with a fly, but Eris has no right to make decisions for him. Anger burns through him, indignation at having his own problem solved for him, like Eris has any right with his handsome face and swaggering charm to just —

Greta laughs awkwardly. “I’ll just bring you a fresh one, let you two sort this out.”

At least he won’t have to worry about the barmaid flirting with either of them again. The stein falls to the table in a clatter and ale and the fly leaps over the sides … Right onto Eris’s slice of buttered bread.

The fly’s wings twitch as the ale soaks into the bread.

Eris bares his teeth at Azriel. “Do you feel satisfied now, you Illyrian —”

“ — here we go, I knew you were full of —”

“ — I’ve been nothing but decent, you’re the child that can’t —”

“Here’s that fresh ale! Oh … I’ll get you another slice of bread, sir … but it’ll cost you.”

Eris grimaces through a smile at the barmaid. “That will be amenable, Greta. Thank you.”

They brood over their dinners, silenced by the woman’s uncomfortable gaze. At least the food is as hearty as Eris claimed it would be, even if they’re searching for more surprise seasonings of bugs.

Lively music and the din of the crowd fills the space between them.

Exhaustion tugs at Azriel. 

All he wants is to stretch out on a semi-decent mattress and rest his eyes and body for a few hours. But the best he’ll get is a sliver of that. If not for the logistical nightmare of the sheer size of both of them trying to fit in one bed without touching, the unpleasant —alright, occasionally pleasant— surge of feelings that close proximity to Eris causes in Azriel…

Sleep will be difficult, even as exhaustion settles into the very marrow of his bones.

It’s just like sleeping with his brothers, he tells himself. Not that his cheeks flush with heat or his skin feels too tight just at the thought of sleeping beside Cass or Rhys.

Gods, he’s screwed.

And now he’s been a complete idiot about the ale.

Azriel scoops the last of the meal into his mouth and dabs at his mouth politely. When Greta had promised their bellies would be bursting, she likely didn’t realize she was feeding an Illyrian sized appetite. 

There’s still food on Eris’s plate.

He’s barely eaten the meat, sticking to the greens and potatoes. Azriel furrows his brow. Is Autumn Court largely vegetarian? Or is the High Lord just too snobby?

“What?” Eris asks, setting his fork down and sitting back.

Azriel looks between his plate and the male. “Are you … going to eat that?”

“I can’t stop thinking about that fly.”

“Haven’t you had worse out in the field?”

Eris looks around the tavern as he admits, “I haven’t been in the field in a while. My palette has become more refined.”

“Spoiled, you mean.”

“Fine. Spoiled.” Eris shoves the plate towards Azriel. “Have at it.”

Setting aside the flare of anger between them, Azriel accepts the plate with a polite dip of his chin. He needs to get control of himself before they’re in one bed, trying to navigate the small space.

Admittedly, the more food he inhales, the less slighted he feels over Eris trading out the ale anyway.

Eris’s eyelids are drooping by the time Azriel scrapes off the last bite of meat and gravy.

“I’ve ridden hard before, but it must be the lack of magic,” Eris says through a yawn. “I feel drained. Almost like —”

“ — faebane?”

“Exactly.”

At least there’s none of the stomach churning nausea to go along with this form of magicless exhaustion.

They pay Greta and Azriel slides a few extra coppers into her hand out of guilt for his display of emotion she had to bear witness to.

“Well. It’s a bed.”

Azriel sighs despondently.

A small bed compared to the one he has at home, that he’s used to winnowing to whenever he does rest. So, maybe Eris isn’t the only one spoiled by the passage of time and changes in positions and the luxuries those positions afford. 

“At least I don’t have my wings,” Azriel says with a sigh. It would have been impossible with them.

Eris unbuckles his sword belt and sets it on the narrow table. He begins unfastening the buttons on his jacket, his boots next, until he’s standing in only an undershirt and his trousers. Freckles dot the pale skin exposed from his loose collar that bares his clavicles, the strong muscles of his neck and shoulders that are lined by the thin fabric the rest of the way down.

Strong. It’s not easy to forget this High Lord has earned his place.

“Don’t bring road dust into the bed,” Eris says absently, otherwise not commenting on Azriel’s hesitation to undress when they’re both standing so close in the small square footage of the room.

He climbs into the bed and shoves himself against the wall. There’s just enough space remaining for Azriel. 

Suddenly self conscious, he blows the candle out before shucking his sword and jacket. At home, he sleeps in the buff, but of course on a mission, with Eris in his bed —

Why is he even thinking about that implausible scenario?

Azriel toes off his boots and slips under the covers.

Their shoulders touch if they both lay on their backs. The quick touch sparks a quick movement in both of them to readjust, surprising Azriel. Eris is just as jumpy, and this close he can pick up the High Lord’s elevated heart rate.

So, this isn’t straightforward for either of them.

Eris clears his throat once they’ve finished shifting and the bed no longer creaks beneath their substantial bulk.

“I don’t believe I properly thanked you yet for agreeing to accompany me on this mission. I know you understand how important it is to keep Prythian safe, but without you …”

“You’d be going into a suicide mission?”

The click of Eris swallowing is like a bell ringing. In the dark, neither of them can see the other’s face, read the vulnerability that opening up to a lifelong enemy entails, but there’s other tells.

“Why did you offer to do it then? If you knew I’d be justified to say no?”

“The truth is maudlin… and a little bit pathetic. But we’re getting close to seven hundred and I’ve heard that’s when the sentimentality starts to creep in for anyone other than my prick of a father.”

“Sentimentality or senility?” Azriel quips out of instinct, then corrects quickly, “Sorry. Go ahead.”

Eris chuckles low and warm. 

It sends a shiver down Azriel’s spine, and the soft huff of air as the other male must have angled towards Azriel draws across the exposed skin of his arm in his short sleeve shirt. The fine hairs there prickle in response, drawing to attention in the same way every nerve ending seems to with the shift in their discussion.

“Everything Lucien has overcome, his spirit to impact change. It inspired me. And my mother is so proud of the male he’s grown into.”

Azriel thinks of his own mother. The worry creases along her lines when she asks after his well being, if he’s been taking care of himself … Does he make his mother proud? She says he does, but is that simply because he hasn’t remained as the little boy locked away? Has he actually accomplished anything to make her truly proud?

“It’s pathetic, I know.”

“It’s not,” Azriel says quickly. Too quickly. Heat rises from his chest, up his neck, and creeps across his cheeks.

Eris sighs. “It’s naive to assume I can accomplish anything through a grand gesture, but I know how everyone questions if I’ve really changed. They don’t understand what it took to survive Beron’s iron rule … But I would like to be an honorable male who can act in the light, like Lucien.”

Silence blankets them until Azriel wonders if Eris has drifted into sleep. 

He knows his entire being is screaming for rest and he’s fighting the urge tooth and nail because … because those words mean something. Eris is sharing something significant and Azriel had agreed to join him because of the need to protect his own loved ones, but now. 

Now he’s glad he’s here with Eris. 

Eris shifts on the mattress and their arms brush. Azriel doesn’t jerk away this time. Eris has paused, but when Azriel doesn’t move, he relaxes his body into the position.

“Since I’m tied to your grand gesture, I guess maybe it will drag both of us into the light,” Azriel says, the words quiet like a secret.

“We can both look like fools together.”

“As long as we’re successful fools.”

Eris laughs through his nose and Az doesn’t stop the small smile from parting his lips as his eyelids slide shut.

“Lets focus on getting out of this alive and we’ll see about the rest.”

Azriel doesn’t respond. His stomach is alight with too many feelings, anticipation and excitement. Thankfully it's all drenched in his heavy meal and half of Eris’s and so his mind can’t race for too long. 

Maybe he’s been fighting this undeniable draw between them for too long, holding on to an old feud solely to keep this distance wedged between them.

As Eris’s breath even out beside him, Azriel shifts ever so slightly to increase the span of their bodies that touch in the bed.

Maybe it’s time to remove the distance.

[ay0nha]

Some Unholy War | Theseus Scamander (II)

SUMMARY: You could feel the warmth of your frustration start in your chest, only to spread across your skin as goosebumps.  The windchill was harsh, but you appreciated the way Theseus noticed—always so attentive. His desires were written on his face; in any other circumstance, his jacket would become yours.

PAIRING: Theseus Scamander x f!reader  

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

WARNINGS: canon-typical things, smoking, angst, morally gray reader, mutual pining, semi enemies-to- lovers, always a protective Theseus, SLOW burn, etc.  

A/N: If you saw this originally posted...no you didn’t...I didn’t love the flashback I wrote, so I wrote a different one (which is semi-inspired by this post/idea because I love it, such accuracy @star-writes4​). Thank You @kalllistos for your patience with me <3 I have such a cute idea for the next chapter, so stay tuned hehehe...Let me know if you want to be tagged. Enjoy.

PART I, PART III, PART IV

— Years prior —

“You can join me inside, you know…” You spoke to your shadow, lighter illuminating your face in the dark alley. On your exhale, you continued your invitation, “...You’ll catch a cold out here.”

After a few heartbeats of hesitation and avoiding the growing puddles, Theseus came into the dingy reflection of the neon sign. “Not convinced my kind is welcomed…”

“Like that’s ever stopped you…” Your tinted lips perked. Theseus' apparel was enough to give away his position. Always so poised. “There are some people I’m sure you’re dying to meet...”

“I’m out of my jurisdiction here.” His hands remained in his pockets, a nervous tick that seemed to run in his family. It was a deceiving behavior, as it came across as a part of his confident stature. “...and overdue for a holiday.”

“Of course.”

Theseus’ hair perked at the humidity. The gel struggled to keep the curls at bay while rain pelted the architecture. The heavy pattern created a cool draft through the outside entryways and a whistling that challenged the music emanating from within the small club.

“Don’t look so stiff, Theseus.” You teased, but he had yet to seem very receptive. “You can be anyone you want here.”

He hummed with genuine nature that briefly peeked out. “And who are you tonight?”

Your eyes were always sharp, cutting through him easily. When you were kids, it was enough to scare him off, but Theseus became fortified. Yet, you knew how he worked just as well. He had a knack for easing you into a conversation riddled with hidden questions and desires. It was as if he softened the blow for something that he knew would end poorly.  Your frown began.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Unwavering in your response, you flicked the remnants of your cigarette into the street. Theseus swallowed his scoff at the action, but it only fueled your conviction. “Add it to my list of grievances.”

His gaze was determined, dancing around something obvious. The stack of papers on his desk most likely doubled in his absence. When he saw your name, he was ready to pass it off like any of the others. It hadn’t caught his attention until it ruminated in his mind so long that he spent hours digging through files to confirm that it really was you.

He reminisced about the old school days, expecting clues to reemerge to explain your behavior. Yet, all he could remember was how you were a few years younger—your nose always pointed to the sky in hopes of finding something more interesting than what was before you. The faded memories merged together the longer Theseus dwelled on them.

“You want to know what I think?” He prodded, waiting for your hum of encouragement.  You wore a dress made for dancing, and your lips were painted a sinfully alluring shade of red. Theseus almost succumbed to the distraction. “You’re someone out of their depth.”

There it is, you thought. The pleasantries would only last for so long until Theseus tallied your faults. You knew it was part of a greater protective character, but you’d evolved, and he favored ignoring your independence.

“Oh, Theseus…” You tutted with a sore smile, arms locked together with defensiveness. “...and here I thought you missed me.”

“What have you gotten yourself into?” He moved closer to you, trying to soothe your frown. Holding back from reaching out, Theseus persisted, “If you have a time-turner—

“We’re not in school anymore.” The argument felt juvenile, but you spat your words quickly, unwilling to meet your sentence. “I can handle myself.”

The situation was ironic due to how time ruled the very encounter. It was only a matter of time until Theseus latched onto the rumor that brought him here. And there was only so much time left before his warning would become a threat. The possession of such an item had added weight to your shoulders. It was a new sensation, and the buzz of adrenaline that came with it was irredeemable. It only worsened when you learned it came easily to you. It was a genuine skill.

You could feel the warmth of your frustration start in your chest, only to spread across your skin as goosebumps.  The windchill was harsh, but you appreciated the way Theseus noticed—always so attentive. His desires were written on his face; in any other circumstance, his jacket would become yours. But you cut him off before he could offer, clipping the argument with the truth.

“It is nice to see you, Theseus.” Just not like this, you omitted. “How’s Newt?”

“Still finding himself in all sorts of…well—you know how Newt…” His hands returned to his pockets as he shuffled slightly. “...those creatures…His creatures are doing well, I suppose…it’s always a fine way of passing time…”

Theseus wasn’t one to ramble nor participate seriously in small talk. Yet, with you mitigating the conversation, it was hard to ease back into what he had come for. Your change in topic wasn’t a distraction at all, just another dig at Theseus’ character.

“You should learn to take people more seriously.” You bit at your own defense veiled by his brother’s prospects. “Maybe then, you’d get what you want.”

The forgotten rain began to pick up. A soft spray that snuck past the protection of the awning begged for you to find warmth inside. You refused to curl into yourself. Instead, you pushed yourself off the brick wall to brush everything into the past.

“Enjoy your holiday, Theseus.”

“Look—” Stopped by your arm, Theseus paused with thought. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I know what I’m doing.” You were softer this time, but your furrowed brow still exposed your upset. But it relaxed as Theseus's hand trailed your arm to find your hand.

“I don’t doubt that.” He spoke earnestly.

Quietness followed the slight embrace that you broke after a small squeeze. The contact allowed Theseus to speak freely, but you wouldn’t listen to more. You knew what he would say, and that was enough.

“Let me buy you a drink.” You blamed the barflies stumbling out the door beside you for your sentimentality. Theseus gave you a tentative look you knew you could break. “Just the one…And if you’re lucky, I’ll tell you what I know.” It was a promise. “I’m feeling charitably inclined tonight.”

The tips of Theseus’ fingers continued to tingle despite their loneliness.  His pockets felt cold. “And why’s that?”

“I’ve met someone.”

— Present Day —

You hadn’t believed in love, and you were ready to carry that grudge—until him.

Avery Sinclair.

It wasn’t proper love, proving your skepticism in the emotion correctly. But it was the closest you’ve ever been, would ever be. He charmed you with his intelligence but decidedly made pearl dust a main ingredient in your relationship. It ensured your vision was so muddled you were willing to sacrifice yourself for him. Avery determined your demise before you could even pick up a scent.

The auror, he had told you. Rid us of him.

To this day, the memory was disillusioned by your coerced fidelity. The memory was more of an overlapping feeling. It was like your body wasn’t your own, stepping into an event without an invitation. You could still feel the heat of the fire you started and the desperation of your scream when you were pushed to your knees. Even then, you failed to remember things coherently.

Yet, when your vision finally cleared, only Aurors surrounded you. Theseus fronted the brigade with a grimace that reflected his disdain. You hadn’t known the expression was a mix of pity and guilt due to the fact that his name would be inherently tied to your public conviction. You just felt like you could finally breathe without a struggle.

“Did you hear me?” Theseus prompted you again, pulling you out of a shared past. He noted your gaze drifting, a thousand-yard stare replacing a genuine exchange. “Listen carefully; we only have so much time until—

“This is what your promotion got you.” You observed the spacious office you’d been in. Your tone asked if it was worth it. Your value was reflected in the fine leather seats, the expensive wood desk, and the plaque that named Theseus’ higher position.

Those who transported you expected catastrophe, but you entrusted your silence. You were calculated enough to know when to hold your tongue, but once in the atrium of the Ministry, you could no longer sit so stoically.

Theseus went to say your name, imploring you to focus, but you only challenged him. He held your stare just as strongly, “You underestimate the scale of this.”

“As if that matters...” You frowned only to follow with deeply rooted sarcasm, “...in a system that is so fair and competent.”

Your words were your only defense against something so factual. Although you were in danger, it had yet to actualize and frighten you as it had Theseus. To him, you were ready to give up, engage entirely with the peril Sinclair would unleash. Your indifference only confirmed his sentiments.

Theseus began to pace. With each step, he attempted to restrain his insults. How you looked at him only provoked a wave of pent-up anger, “You have always been so cruel…”

“If I'm cruel, then what does that make you, Theseus?” You were ready for the conversation; your thoughts honed and practiced. “If I'm cruel, then you must be something much worse.”

“I'm trying to help you.” His voice was low, afraid those whispering about your presence—capture—would overhear his admission. In time, you’d learn that his words were genuine, that he was risking more than you realized.

“No.” You spoke definitively, head shaking with refutation. “What you do is selfish. You help with a suffocating hand—

“You don’t get to make this my fault. You chose him.” The silence to follow echoed his regret. You eyed his uncharacteristic agitation as he tried to rectify his mistake.

“Theseus!” A voice boomed, entering the office. Torquil Travers. “There you are, now—This is her?” With a passing look of disgust, he let out another booming statement. “Have you located Sinclair?”

“Yes, sir.” Theseus’ bluntness evaporated the previous argument. Yet, his eyebrow twitched. The micro expression revealed too much. His body contradicted his words.

You rolled your eyes at the formality. After all these years, Theseus still couldn’t shake the nickname that followed him during his younger years—Schoolboy hero.

Suck up, you thought.

“Ensure this gets done.” Travers’ attitude indicated he felt the time in Theseus’ office was already wasted. “Quietly.”

Theseus held a tight-lipped smile. “Of course, sir.”

Time, too, was his concern, and it became obvious the longer Travers remained in his office. You wanted answers of your own, but you could be patient as there were more pressing desires.

“These come off.” You said evenly, gaining the attention of those in the room. Yet, Travers looked around as if your voice was foreign and your presence was no more than a nuisance.

His posture straightened with arrogance, prompting Theseus, “Handle that.”

That. Your position was clarified. You were no longer a person, no longer a witch. You were—that. Theseus felt ill, agreeing once again to his boss’ request before he left. Theseus intentionally kept his back to you, trying to form the words that explained what he had to do—what he was assigned to do. Handling that meant telling you the cuffs were to stay on.

Emotion flooded your chest; you missed your isolation. Solitude made things simpler. Though now there was no choice. You were to be bait; you were meant to lure Sinclair in. It was Theseus’ idea, only as a form of protection and to bide time for him to figure out something more promising.

With a hand tucked in his waistband and the other rubbing across his jaw in thought, Theseus stared ahead at his desk. He seemed at a loss and could only resort to honesty. “I want you to trust me.”

You did. You had. You relied on him in the past. At one point, you would have considered him the only one that had the privilege. You thought he had understood that. Your relationship had naturally ebbed and flowed. It was required when you were such opposites, but mutual respect helped it remain.

Theseus promised he wouldn’t follow you that night, but that was the same night he was no longer a man of his word. For your own good, his own remark nauseated him. It had felt so right at the moment, a moment of long-coming justice, but it was not only a trap for you but for him.

He would never fall for it again. With a weak rasp of the knuckles to his desk, Theseus’ mind settled.  His side was chosen.

Coming close, he crouched down to your seated level. You remained still, his motions far too interesting to pull away. He began trailing your arms until he reached the metal at your wrists. “...You’re not safe with them on.”

You'd grown so accustomed to the weight of the bracelets on your wrists. They weighed you down in every way you could imagine. You learned to move with them smartly, using your magic so strategically that it felt like a chore rather than an extension of yourself. And now, seeing your wrists empty, you fought off a misplaced nostalgia.

You had never meant to become the villain. You just didn't know what else to do.

Theseus watched as your eyes welled with emotion, knowing you’d never let actual tears form. He thought to move forward and bring any sort of comfort to the situation, but you moved quicker than the thought was formed.

“No!–Don’t—”

His breath was lost, the world around him dissolving into a deep color. Your hand gripped his collar, but it felt like he was being pressed hard from all directions. The journey was nauseating and familiar. The surroundings no longer reflected the Ministry, the marble flooring was replaced by puddles, and the air was no longer crisp but heavy with humidity.

Your laugh bubbled, starting slowly with the feeling of surprise that evolved into pure joy. You refused to be tracked by your magic, so you typically abstained. The feeling of magic again was like a feeling of renewal—an electricity that scratched a phantom itch.

You glanced at a flushed Theseus, “...Remember this place?”

[rebeccathenaturalist]

How Fireworks Harm Nature

Originally posted at my blog at https://rebeccalexa.com/how-fireworks-harm-nature/

It’s that time of year again, when millions of Americans celebrate our country’s independence by buying tons of fireworks to blow up over a period of several days. Admittedly I loved setting off firecrackers and M-60s when I was a kid, but no one had taken the time to explain to me the damage these explosives could do, other than warnings about not blowing off my fingers. And while I dutifully went out and swept up the debris afterward, I didn’t understand fully how fireworks harm nature.

Had I known then what I know now, I might not have been so enthusiastic about fireworks. I’ve always been a nature nerd, even at a very young age, but I didn’t always know how to connect everyday activities to their impact on the natural world. Environmental topics were always presented to me as something that happened elsewhere, like trying to keep giant pandas from going extinct, or saving the rainforests of the Amazon. That, of course, served to keep anyone from questioning what was happening right here at home.

Now that I am older and wiser, I have a much better understanding of how everything is connected, and how everything we do has some impact for good or ill. Let’s dig deeper into how the fireworks that will be detonated this year can affect the nature around them.

From end to end, the manufacture and use of both commercial and consumer-grade fireworks involves a whole host of chemicals that are hazardous to both our health and that of the ecosystems around us. Most start with potassium nitrate (which becomes gunpowder when mixed with the correct amounts of carbon and sulfur). A number of other compounds are added to create various colors and effects, as per this image from Compound Interest (click image for a larger version):

When these compounds are burned, they release significant amounts of airborne pollutants that affect the air we breathe, and then land in our water and soil. Some of these pollutants are toxic heavy metals such as magnesium, barium, strontium, lead, copper, potassium, and lithium. When certain heavy metals are absorbed into our bodies, whether through airborne particulates, the water we drink, or the food we eat, they can cause significant negative health effects. Even if you don’t experience any immediate, acute effects, long-term exposure often leads to chronic illnesses.

It’s not just ourselves that we have to worry about, either. Wildlife don’t have the option to move elsewhere if their habitat has been polluted by fireworks, and their health is often seriously compromised by heavy metals. Fish are especially susceptible to these pollutants which may accumulate in higher concentrations the higher up the food web you go.

Every being is at risk from the greenhouse gases produced by fireworks, including carbon dioxide and monoxide, nitrogen, nitrous oxide, and sulfur dioxide (the lattermost of which is well-known as a contributing factor to acid rain.) While fireworks may not be the biggest source of greenhouse gases that are fueling anthropogenic climate change, they’re one that is easy to cut out of our lives as they are completely unnecessary.

It’s not just the chemicals that threaten wildlife, though. the loud, percussive noise of fireworks is incredibly terrifying and disruptive to many wild animals (and domestic ones, too!) When a region is full of fireworks noise, animals may have nowhere to go to escape many nights of noise and flashing lights. The stress can cause their immune systems to tank, and has even led to the deaths of wildlife that either die from fear, or which run in front of vehicles while fleeing in panic. The effects may persist even after the fireworks are done for the year.

The timing of Independence Day is especially troubling as it is during the breeding/nesting season of many species of bird and other wild animal. The disruptive influence of fireworks can scare parent animals away from nests and dens, causing them to abandon their young, who will die without their parents’ support. (Birds that nest on beaches are at particular risk, since these places are especially popular for blowing up fireworks.) For what it’s worth, New Year’s Eve fireworks are also dangerous, as birds roosting in large groups nearby may die as a result of the commotion.

Another way fireworks harm nature is the explosions themselves. If a small animal happens to be in the ground at or near where a firework is being lit, the explosion can burn them to death or kill them through percussion. Other animals nearby can also be injured by the heat and percussion. The force of larger airborne fireworks can even knock birds out of the sky if they happen to be in range. And even if the wildlife are able to escape, they may waste a lot of precious energy being constantly panicked by the ongoing terrifying displays. The loss of that energy may be the difference between life and death if the animals are not able to find enough food to make up for the caloric deficit.

Even after the fireworks are done and everyone goes home, the debris left behind continues to pose a threat to wildlife. Like other trash, fireworks debris can be mistaken for food by birds, fish, and other animals. Even if they aren’t poisoned by its ingestion, the debris builds up in their stomach until they die of a fatal impaction or starve because they can no longer eat and digest actual food.

As climate change has caused prolonged drought across large portions of the United States and beyond, the decades of built-up ladder fuels left from fire suppression become a greater wildfire hazard. Any source of sparks may set off wildfires that could consume hundreds or even thousands of acres, but fireworks are one of the most unnecessary sources of potential wildfire danger.

The 2017 Eagle Creek Fire in the Columbia River Gorge in Oregon and Washington torched nearly 50,000 acres of forest and damaged several popular trails; parts of it continued to smolder nearly a year later. The fire threatened almost 300 homes and other buildings, and trapped over 150 hikers on the Eagle Creek trail.

The cause? One fifteen year old boy tossing firecrackers over the edge of a cliff. This illustrates that anyone with fireworks, even something as seemingly small and insignificant as a firecracker shorter than one’s finger, can start a devastating wildfire. These fires kill numerous wild animals and plants, and additionally threaten any humans living in the area or working to fight the fire.

With so many people insisting on blowing things up to celebrate holidays, it can feel like an uphill battle. Yet there is a growing movement to ban the sale and use of fireworks in many municipalities, counties, and other regions. Some states restrict the sale of certain fireworks, and Massachusetts has even banned all of them. If you are concerned about fireworks in your community, try to find other people with similar concerns. Then, as a group, present your arguments to your city or county councilpeople and urge them to ban fireworks in their jurisdiction.

It’s also important to educate others on how fireworks harm nature. Many people simply don’t know the connection, much like I was unaware as a child because no one has told me. While you may meet resistance from some people, it’s important to keep putting the information out there in a calm, reasonable manner so that more receptive people can access it. (You can even use this article you’re reading right now as an easy access resource! Just please give me credit and include a link to my website if you decide to print it out to hand out to others.)

Finally, offer up alternatives to fireworks. Here are some fun, kid-friendly projects that are easy to find or put together (please make sure to clean up any plastic like glow sticks or silly string.) Consider laser or light displays instead of fireworks (by the way, “silent” fireworks are not actually silent, and they still release pollutants into the air, water, and soil.) If you absolutely must burn something, consider having a small bonfire in a safe, contained area (unless there’s a burn ban in your area) and always practice campfire safety. It can be a great way to get together with friends and family, and a campfire is better anyway since you can’t roast hot dogs or make s’mores over a pile of fireworks!

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere rivals Jinx vs caitlyn falling for upsider /piltover darling who builds wild inventions and for them to keep running into Jinx only for Caitlyn to keep saving the reader much to Jinx anger

I've been able to watch Arcane more and let me just say, I love this show so much. Jinx, Vi, and Caitlyn are easily some of my favorite characters. So here's this :)

Spoilers for League of Legends: Arcane

Yandere! Jinx vs Caitlyn

Ft. Piltover Inventor! Darling

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Stalking, Jinx is mentally unstable, Jealousy, Manipulation, Overprotective behavior, Trauma mention, Kidnapping, Forced relationship (Jinx)/Dubious Relationship (Caitlyn), Forced affection, Violence, Attempted murder/murder, Delusional behavior, Blood, Threats.

This whole situation is going to be such a train wreck.

If you've seen the show you'll know just how Jinx feels about Caitlyn.

She feels Caitlyn will replace her and honestly wants her dead.

Caitlyn's an enforcer, from Piltover, and Jinx feels she's trying to steal all she loves

The dynamic is definitely going to be Caitlyn as an overprotective yandere while Jinx is the more delusional and insane yandere.

You're most likely an inventor with connections to Hextech.

You like to tinker and create small but powerful inventions, a perk that is useful considering the whole situation going on with Zaun.

Such a trait makes Jinx fall for you, she feels you get her when she meets you getting parts from Zaun for something.

You both tinker and she often pops by to see what you're working on.

All of her visits are usually not welcome.

Jinx is a delusional yandere, she's under the impression quickly that you two are close.

She shows up out of nowhere, nothing hostile, but it's like she's toying with you.

Meeting you was by chance, but for some reason Jinx finds comfort in you.

You're an inventor from Piltover... normally she hates anyone from Piltover.

Yet everything you make holds a beauty similar to the stuff made at Hextech... and you're so cute when scared!

Jinx has been looking for someone to love ever since losing Vi.

By some twisted turn of fate she feels you'll be the one to fill such a hole in her heart.

She's playful and teasing whenever she's around to see you.

She giggles as though she's innocent and not insane.

She's always too touchy and talks to you like an overly excited child.

You barely know her yet she clings to you.

Something is clearly wrong with this woman.

Caitlyn meets you later.

She meets you as you're from Piltover and you have a way with tech, a helpful asset she can use to team up with Vi to investigate the Silco situation.

This is where things become a problem.

For the longest time Jinx has been able to stalk you, watching you through binoculars to be able to see you when away.

She already feels Caitlyn has stolen Vi from her, her delusional thoughts making lies to fuel her obsessive craving for love.

Now? Now she sees Caitlyn and Vi...

Talking to you.

She just about loses it.

Caitlyn originally asks you for help due to your expertise in technology.

The moment she learns about your encounters about Jinx, that sparks even more interest.

If she isn't careful... Jinx can use you against her and Vi somehow.

Caitlyn's obsession is slower than Jinx.

She's way less desperate and Jinx is deranged due to trauma and Shimmer.

Caitlyn has a clearer head and her obsession would originate from wishing to protect you.

Jinx just looks for someone to cling to, scared to lose you like she has everyone else.

There's no doubt they'd fight.

In fact, Jinx aims to kill.

Jinx would be pushed over the edge if she had to rival against Caitlyn.

She's lost Vi to her (in her mind)... she's not losing you!

Meanwhile, Caitlyn has no doubt you and Vi are targets of Jinx.

Caitlyn's feelings towards you develop over time.

You make machines that can protect others or just yourself.

The Enforcer admires your genius even if a lot of your inventions aren't approved by investors.

Caitlyn takes comfort in the fact you're also from Piltover, even if you roam Zaun to help her.

It starts as a friendship, you're partners within your little group to investigate what's been going on.

Soon... Caitlyn thinks about how much you need protection-

Vi could protect herself from her sister.

What about you?

Caitlyn promises to herself that she needs to look after you during her investigation.

She's proven right when Jinx does kidnap you.

Jinx is the more intense yandere, she's forceful and delusional.

She'd kidnap you, tie you up, and force you to sit and look lovely.

She's powerful... a dangerous combination with her mental state.

Jinx would sit in your lap and cuddle into you.

She whispers about how adorable you are, if you try to fight or run your mouth she pulls out her gun.

She praises your work and whispers about how much she'd love to tinker with you.

She meant that in more ways than one.

Jinx wouldn't mind breaking your mind if it meant keeping someone to love her.

She's scary with her obsession.

Her kisses taste like poison, her hugs feel like she's grappling you....

She likes to ask you questions, like how do you feel about you and her making an invention together.

Jinx holds you like you'll leave her, you can use that to your advantage to get her to relent on her obsessive tendencies.

She wants to hear you reciprocate.

She wants you to forget about Caitlyn... it's just her now.

She can forget about those two... those traitors... truthfully, you were all she needs after all.

Caitlyn on the other hand doesn't rest until she finds you.

By the time Jinx kidnaps you, subjecting you to her obsessive delusions, Caitlyn has begun to care about you.

Vi notices the fact Caitlyn refuses to rest.

You have to be found.

Jinx could hurt you!

You'll eventually be found by the two... after days and days of searching.

You look so tired when she finds you, prototype machines made by you and Jinx surrounding you.

It appears your form of bonding has been inventing to appease the psychotic girl.

Before Caitlyn is able to step near you with Vi, Jinx strikes from the darkness.

A fight between the two would be brutal.

Jinx aims to kill while Caitlyn aims to defend herself, you, and Vi.

Jinx would be a yandere who frequently experiences tantrums due to her rotting mental state.

She blames Caitlyn for everything and fights her like some feral animal.

There's two inevitable outcomes this rivalry can have.

Jinx wins... or Caitlyn wins.

If Caitlyn wins by detaining or killing Jinx, she takes you in.

There's no doubt you've gone through your own trauma back there and Caitlyn wants to make an effort to help you.

She feels it's partly her fault anyways.

It would actually be after the rivalry has concluded that Caitlyn fully gives into her yandere behavior.

Being an Enforcer she tries to keep you somewhere safe to invent and be happy.

She doesn't leave your side and you two become really close.

While you invent she hugs your back, telling you how much she's sorry about what you've went through and how she loves you so much.

If you do start dating, Caitlyn is gentle with her affection.

Her kisses are soft, not hungry. Her hugs are warm... not suffocating.

Caitlyn gets overprotective based on what she's witnessed.

She wants to protect you and she reassures you you'll be well off with her.

She's a part of a luxurious family and hopes you'll be happy with her.

Every freedom she restricts is to protect you.

If Jinx wins... Caitlyn's as good as dead.

Jinx is sure to make her death elaborate, then kidnap Vi as she did you.

She's so happy that Enforcer is out of the picture.

Not only does she have her sister now... but she has you, her beloved!

In her deranged mind, Jinx couldn't be happier.

She shows Vi all the amalgamated inventions she made with you.

Jinx also goes on and on about your little "relationship" to Vi.

You try to drone out her obsessive ramblings, but it's hard when Jinx is clinging so tightly to you while speaking to Vi.

In her mind, this is how it's always meant to be.

It's meant to be her... her sister... and the one she loves!

You may be tied up now, Caitlyn's blood staining the floor and your boots while tears fall down your face...

But Jinx reassures you things will be better now that she has you.

[jfashion-confessions]

I don't understand the back and forth between Jirai. As a mentally ill adult with BPD as well as other illnesses. I don't understand trying to claim a slur I wouldn't be called as a western who lives IN the west. No one in the west randomly uses that SLUR because its japanese. English speakers still don't jot their english with random Japanese. English speaker would call me: Crazy, lunatic, unhinged, attention seeking, someone they gotta tiptoe around / walk on eggshells around, mental, a "amber heard", a danger like jodi arias. the list goes on and on... I've heard hurtful and dismissive comments about my mental health or even just heard this about others who are mentally ill, because not everyone knows my status. But my point is the "feed back" and dismissive and belittling comments are always in english. I just find when I see younger folks arguing its a slur they like or they wanna reclaim it doesn't sit right with me. We don't get called those things. We get called ENGLISH words. I've never heard it in my life until the subculture became more popular in the west in 2020/2021. And since probably 2023 I've seen it become more popular. But even still I don't *hear* the word enter normal peoples vocab. I also don't really like calling it a lifestyle, because mental health isn't a lifestyle. It's a condition. I don't want to glamorize mental health, it should be seen just like any other health condition. Just like allergies, or physical illness something else. The difference between education and awareness and glamorizing is awareness gives you better understanding of the disorder. Glamourising makes people wish they were disordered or don't want to seek treatment because thats their "thing". We all struggle and have bad days, some stuff will set us off, sometimes stuff is difficult. But thats not "jirai" to struggle. I like the term "dark girly" as someone who's got bpd and psychosis because it also removes my mental health from the fashion. Dark girly addresses the aesthetic, motifits and beautiful (dark and rich) colors I see. Jirai can't be divorced from its original context, or the sex trafficking or other aspects of its shady history and inevitable trauma it's created. I also don't like negative stereotypes being connected with mental health. I can recognise for japanese young women / women this slur has preduices and that culture is not as open with mental health. It's more judgemental, views it as a private affirm. (and yes, as a western I can see the relatable because I had parents who were in this same conservative mindset of we don't share bad things. Don't talk about your suffering, don't talk to a therapist. Stop! But, I'm an adult now & as a western I have more access to getting help, but also being able to openly speak about my issues and find spaces were I can do so without stigma or judgement. I'm not aware if japan has this so much. Culturally speaking I'm an outsider, so my awareness is ignorant.) For reclaiming the slur too, I find it really strange because the west has a lot of different cultures in it, and i'm sure all of them have their own slurs for mentally unwell people and society beliefs with mental health and how its shameful & yet I don't see westerns grabbing those slurs and being like 'you know what! I'm this too, I'm reclaiming all of this." I just feel like Jirai is being claimed by misguided youngsters. But I really wish the back and forth could stop and I realize I'm fueling the debate to. So I'm sorry.

.

[bitterrobin]

I loooove expanding on the al Ghuls. IDK in both canon and fanon they're always exclusively villains with little nuance to them unless its the sole focus of a story arc. Even then, its pretty much only Ras and Talia that get their (deserved) due.

*pushing up my nerd glasses* which is why I have fun writing GRAVEYARD because I can yap about my al Ghuls headcanons left and right. For example, Melisande is primarily a French name. But since Talia's mother is often described as mixed Arab/Chinese, I figured I would look for why she would have a French name (other than the writer's decision, maybe they thought it was just pretty). I came up with this: Algeria has history of French usage through its colonization, so Melisande has a French first name but an Arabic middle name (Fadhma). Since she met Ras in Woodstock, she'd have to have been a teenager/young adult by then, and thus been raised in the 1950s/60s. I figured the connotations of Woodstock, her mixed heritage, the then-current state of Algeria etc, the 1969 oil spill in the US, she would have visited America with curiosity about the counter-culture. (how? idk that's why this still in the works) In my au,

Melisande already held views on nature and environmental protection before meeting Ras. Her views were fierce, but probably a little naive compared to Ras' own views. Nonetheless, they clicked intellectually, with Melisande debating theories and politics, which eventually led to their marriage. I don't think Melisande would've liked America (and obviously neither did Ras) so they did not stay there. I considered writing Melisande having Kayble Amazigh heritage to further fuel her desire for change and revolution and because Ras is implied to have Bedouin/Berber origins, but since I don't know much about those cultures beyond some research - I figured I shouldn't include it. Also, because Melisande died when Talia was young, so I don't think she'd have the time to impart a lot of her specific culture onto her daughter, adding to Talia's isolation/loneliness. Melisande is a mother who's killed in both of her iterations, I just wanted to add more significance to her connection with Talia. Something about meeting an intellectual and then being doomed, one way or another, to be absorbed into his mythos. She's a blip in Ras's history, not even his first wife or his first lover - but she's important to Talia.

Same kinda applied to Dusan. He's only in several comics as the White Ghost because Ras needed a new body. He's albino. He's extremely devoted to his father despite not receiving the same attention, and he was born to connect Ras to some lost culture or people. Dusan, to my knowledge is not an Arab name. From research, in some areas, its a Czech/Slovak/Serbian name. This is interesting to me since, besides Nyssa, it implies he's the only other non-Arabic member of the family. Nyssa (depends on translation, is either Greek or Hebrew, which makes sense considering she is Jewish) is of Russian descent. So in my hc, Dusan is of Slovak descent, connected to some fictional peoples. Considering Ras' history, Dusan's mother was probably connected to some type of specific science or magic culture that Ras wanted his hands on. He seems detached to Talia, despite being her brother, so my hc is that he's much older than her and so they don't have a connection in the way that Nyssa created between them. Because Ras was successfully able to transfer his mind/soul to Dusan's body in Resurrection, we can glean that Dusan might've had this magical connection too. Bringing Mara into this, we don't get a lot of content surrounding what her relationship w her father was. Still, my hc is that her red hair streak is actually dyed, and she has inherited her father's albinism but has yet to show it outside of her hair. Mara is also not an Arabic name. In Hebrew it means bitter, but my hc is that she nicknamed herself Mara. Besides Nyssa, I don't think any other member of the al Ghuls are Jewish - so Mara just took the meaning as a way to symbolize her bitterness over her father. Her full name was Maram, which means "wish" or "desire" in Arabic. Whether it was Dusan or her mother that named her this, I'm not fully sure yet but I think it'd be more heartbreaking if it was Dusan. Despite spending so long attached to his father's crusade, I think it'd be sad if for a moment - he had independence and happiness w Mara. Maybe he wanted a son, just as Ras wanted a son, but he once loved her just as fiercely as Talia loves Damian. But again, the al Ghuls are Ouroboros. They cannot ever break the family curse, so in the end, Dusan was once again driven to his father's side w fervor, his lover or wife left him, and Mara was left (as many in the family) alone.

[quibbs126]

Longan dragon and black pearl fankid?İ made called longanpearl aka longan dragon x black pearl

Here we are, this is Melo Melo Cookie

So the name comes from this particular pearl, the melo melo pearl. I don’t recall how I stumbled upon it, other than I think I was looking up stuff for an Oyster request, but basically it’s this pearl that’s formed from a sea snail, the melo melo snail. They’re also apparently extremely rare and valuable. I picked that for the longanpearl kid since it’s a pearl like Black Pearl, but also because of the orange-yellowish color of the pearl for Longan. Also I’ve heard it has some association with dragons, but I’m not entirely sure. But more fuel for it being for Longan, instead of originally the Black Pearl/Timekeeper kid

Melo melo pearl:

So I’ll be honest, I think her colors look too much like Longan and not enough like Black Pearl, and in general they don’t look too much like Black Pearl. But the more orange color scheme of Longan just worked better for Melo Melo given her basis. Though I mean, I did try to give her a more saturated dough tone than Longan, since Black Pearl’s seems more saturated. This was the thing I mentioned earlier that held me back from finishing them, but I decided screw it, just finish it now

I gave her a tail without fins and those side bits because the melo melo pearl comes from a sea snail, so it was supposed to emulate that. I also debated giving them a giant shell backpack, but eventually I thought it made the design look too cluttered, so I got rid of it

Since her hair is covering most of her front, I wasn’t sure where her gem would be, but I ended up putting one at the back of their head, and it’s supposed to be like something holding her hair together. Whether that’s just a hairpiece or her actual gem, I’m not sure. And that’s also the reason her front looks so plain in the sketch, I kind of forgot that was the reason there wasn’t anything there when I first drew it, so I just didn’t give them anything

Also since the hair obscuring most of the front was drawn first, a lot of other design elements were done around that, hence the lack of detail in her clothes and why I don’t actually really know how her dress works. I was just trying to make it not look like Primordial Sea from way back when

Her dress probably should have also been semi-transparent, but I didn’t end up doing that. Ah well, I don’t know if it looks better one way or the other

I feel like I’m complaining a lot about her design, but in truth I actually really like it

(Also I’m not entirely sure I’m making it clear, but Melo Melo’s supposed to be she/they. Just wanted to clarify, since I’m not entirely sure how that sort of thing works)

Well in any case, let’s talk about her

So despite Longan and Black Pearl’s hatred of Cookies, Melo Melo finds herself fascinated by them, and all the things of theirs that she finds in the ocean. Sort of like Ariel in the Little Mermaid, only Melo Melo is a little kid. Whether their more optimistic views of Cookies are put to the test, I’m not sure. But for now, they’re just a little kid who thinks Cookies sound neat and doesn’t understand their hatred of them

Also, as shown in one of the sketches, Melo Melo has an alternate form, and can turn into a large sea serpent (I fully admit, I just threw something together, since I wasn’t really sure how to translate their design into a sea serpent. I’m not good at creature designs, though maybe one day I’ll draw a better one for them). She’s also the child of Black Pearl and Longan, so safe to say she’s incredibly powerful. If not yet, when she’s older. Perhaps when she’s older, they’ll be known as the Melo Melo Serpent, and fearsome beast that’s said to guard some of the most valuable pearls known to Cookie kind (melo melo pearls), yet no one has ever been able to come close to defeating it, and for some being revered as some sort of deity

Maybe they can create melo melo pearls of their own, given her extreme power. That’d be interesting

Anyways yeah, that’s all I got for Melo Melo. I hope you enjoy!