#breakingbridges

[cherrypikkins]

15 lines of dialogue

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you’re free to include those as well!

Juni Cottontale, my FFXIV WoL - mostly snippets from sporadic discord RPs

(reacting to intruder trying to break into the bedroom) "Darling, move over a bit, I'm just going to grab the gun from under the bed…"

(sips from random beaker) "Hm. This isn't tea."

(looking at the smoking wreckage of the fantasy Keurig) "It was pretty dope though, even you have to admit it."

"Please stop giving our children knives."

"I showed you my flamethrower. Please respond."

"Stop screaming and I'll show you how to make an ice bomb."

"I may have committed a lot of wartime atrocities … but I am NOT a kidnapper."

(Regarding Gaius van Baelsar) "The enemy of my enemy is still a punk-ass bitch."

"I guess I forgot that not everyone works with explosive chemicals as their day job."

10. Miki: "...So, about us disintegrating" Juni: "Wild, right?"

11. (talking with Miki about having kids) "Just let me know when and I'll bug Cid for a raise."

12. "You can't flash me and always expect my mood to improve, Darling."

13. "Wanna do something cool and stupid with me?"

14. (assembling his gun + silencer after finding out the namazu Gyodo sold them out to the Garleans) "It'll be like shooting balloons at the carnival."

I tag: @eorzean-cabbage @breakingbridges @lavampira @sakurabunnie @milesmilse @omgkalyppso !

[merlwybs-wife]

ooc/mun quiz: what emotion do you create from?

it's interesting, because I explore a lot of dark and painful topics in my art. but, I think the fact that 9/10 times I want a happy ending… yeah, you know? the road I depict might be harsh, but in the end, it's about what makes life worth living.

quiz here!

stolen from @spotofmummery !

tagging: @miqojak @oneiroy @houndaelyn @breakingbridges @allyennah

[hectorward-ffxiv]

Welcome to the Hermit Hovel

This is a tumblr blog for my FFXIV WoL OC Hector Ward. He is a grumpy Ala Mhigan/Garlean, born of Gyr Abania, living in the Shroud and working as a mercenary when not tending to his small farm.

Interesting facts about Hector? He was found as a babe by Sylphs. His mum, fleeing Gyr Abania from Garleans, hid him away in a tree hollow and made herself bait for her persuers. Lucky for the babe, he was saved from his less-than-qualified babysitters by a wandering mage, who raised him for a time before disappearing. Hector still has a connection with the Sylphs, and other beast tribes for that matter, because of this brief time in their mischevious company.

Hector had to fend for himself at a young age, so he learned a multitude of handicrafts that leave him able to keep up a life with minimal contact from outside of his hovel. He knits, skins, cooks, gardens, and rears animals in solitude. Money is still important, however, since nature can't always be counted on to make a living so he ventures out regularly for mercenary jobs and is forced to make relationships with others. It's like pulling teeth to get him to admit that that's good for him.

He might not be the most plot-heavy OC, but his gentle plodding through life has its charm. Plus, its pretty easy to get the big redhead to leer and sneer at someone, which gets him out of his shell (somewhat). That's Hector--thanks for reading a ramble about my favorite grumpy man! My main blog for FFXIV is @keeper-of-the-lilacs and follow backs are from @breakingbridges.

[cheesehound]

lady practice i did last week

oz @buttart aya @breakingbridges baen @baenling 

[teebster]

Groak :yc

 groak  —   to   stare   longingly   at   someone   who   is   eating   in   the   hope   that   they   will   ask   you   to   join   them

[[Read More for long post, general confusion, slight horror, wounds/blood/gore, etc. Teebs Things]]

A dream. The sleeping thought. The subconscious. Our hidden truths, resting behind the walls in our own minds. The way we shape our worlds, together, alone. Perspective. Reality. A dream.

Rains and local terrors had brought the brave, the scared, and the desperate to the local tavern. The feint echoing chorus of chattering voices filled the air. A constant static, whispered gossip, the buzz of alcohol tickling cheeks and conversations alike. Or it was safe to likely assume, as they cared not for the chatter, refusing to focus on any of it, and thus no words were shaped. Mouths moved across the room, indistinct faces producing the sounds of humanity with a subtle mixture of insects humming. Crickets, a few confused cicadas, the looming presence of night attempting to creep in. A deafening silence, as the room turned upon them, staring. Each face blank, features, clothes, heights, gender, all were lost, but the collective thought, the single question ringing from them all. “But where were you?”

A blink. The room corrected itself, the static of shared drinks and meals resuming. An odd familiarity restored. They knew this place, they knew sounds of wooden chairs and stools dragging on the floor, of mugs clunking against each other or tabletops, the warmth of a fire in the corner meant to help with the cold of the rains and night, to light a path for the fearful. The slight smell of coffee wafting from the mug clutched in their hands, fingers gently tapping against the side of it. But where were they? They were sitting at a table, against the wall, close enough to the fire to hear it, but more importantly, where they could see the door, and the bar. No, not the bar in particular, but the entry to the kitchen. The coming and going of staff, and orders. They had been there for awhile, the weight of time hanging loosely in the back of their mind in the way that it might in dreams. The moment only feeling as if a minute, but the certain knowledge that it had been long enough for the warmth of their coffee to have long faded, and that while they weren’t likely to be chased off, they were on the boarder of an overstayed welcome. Anxious finger tapping. Had it always been a habit? Or did it simply fit their mood? The consideration slowly pulled at their eyes. Staring down into the mug, the reflection of all too known eyes. The white glow piercing and unnaturally still atop the surface of the fluid. Known but alien. The chirping of crickets creeped into the room again, an almost painfully loud cacophony as it pressed in closer and overwhelmed. A ripple of movement hit the coffee, the reflection of their eyes shimmering against the liquid, distorting til it looked as if the night sky full of stars had poured into the mug instead. Somehow, it felt more natural than seeing their own eyes. The whole room pressed its attention to them again. The cries of false insect chatter vibrating directly against their horns ears before the silence consumed them. “False. Why were you?”

Another blink. A soft reset. The reflection in their coffee now showed eyes of soft gold before quickly tearing away at the sound of foot steps. Plates of food were being taken to a larger table nearby. Hunters. It was the only term that truly came to mind when gazing on the collection of individuals, armor and weapons scattered about them to mark them as such. The scent of seared meat, of fresh bread, of grilled vegetables, all drifted towards them. Or perhaps a trick of the mind, the concept of food enough to imagine it, to remind them of a hunger burning in their stomach. As they stared out, they remembered having collected coin through pity, not enough for lodging, not enough for a meal. The itch of recollection continued to pull at them, that they were tired and wary, that the scraps of bread they had managed to get with their mug of coffee didn’t even make an effort to hold them over, but instead teased their hunger. Deep consideration blocked out most other thoughts as they began to salivate staring at the other table’s plates of food. They knew they could not simply ask for any of it, and to ask to join the cause of hunters would either get them laughed at or worse accepted for a cause that would surely be their end. It was odd to have a fear of death writhe inside their mind. As odd as it was also natural to feel their hunger in their stomach, acid clawing away from within. It ate away at them. There was always a fear of being lead by their hunger, and the consequences it might bring. Their vision of the room dimmed, the movement and chatter of the room halting all together. Grey, dimmed, paused, all hung heavy. Yet they couldn’t stop moving their gaze to what they had known to be the plate of bread crumbs that remained on their table. Instead they were met with meat. Flesh and bone. The face of a man, eyes clawed out, mouth agape in pure horror. Partly plucked for sustenance, partly crushed. Red poured out, bones exposed and piercing into what remained of their innards. It would not appease their hunger, but part of them still wanted to reach for it. Their hands felt wet. The rest of the room faded, the sight of an all consuming void focusing on them. “Later. What were you?”

Another blink. A soft reset. A gentle skip. Their focus was still held by the plates of food presented to the table of hunters, even as they began to dig in. They couldn’t recall the last time they had had a full meal. Hunger and fear lead them to a conclusion, and a decision. There was no point in staring at food they would not be invited to eat, but perhaps, if they were to excuse themself and stumble through, they could trip and misplaced hands could knock the food upon the floor. While it was likely to get them a kick, at least they would have more than bread. As they found their resolution and stood up, a hand found their shoulder. The first face that had any features to it, yet it was like staring through frosted glass. Their mind didn’t want to hold them together. He was tall, and they felt warmth from him, but perhaps that was the golden nature of his skin and smile. Dark hair, loose. Muddled, dark eyes that theirs couldn’t seem to meet. “Careful now. You don’t want what they have.” His voice poured out, and it soothed and ached them like stumbling on a lost treasure. The kind that hurts, but you can’t help but never replace. “If I can see it from the look in your eyes, it won’t be a convincing show. But why don’t you sit at my table, reconsider it with a bowl of stew?” They opened their mouth, knowing words had come out, but all was ash on their tongue. Tasteless, empty, burnt and spent. The shape of their mouth was wrong, the way their tongue rolled with the words was foreign. But the man seemed pleased with whatever answer had escaped them. “What’s your name friend? So I can introduce you to the table.” And again, they opened their mouth, knowing words were meant to come out. An old exchange lost to time and their mind. As their mouth opened, it opened wide, their skin cracking open. Light, pure and brilliant, cold and empty. Skin flaked off, and the light continued to burst its way out of them, filling the room with blinding white. It streamed from their eyes, and pooled from their mouth, it burned off their flesh. They felt bones forming, rippling against their back as they tried to pierce their way out.  And just as the room had filled with their light, just as they felt their skin would give to this new form entirely, they felt the hand on their shoulder tightened, and the sharp pain of a knife thrust into their chest pierced through it all. They looked down, shock and confusion, silence clinging to the pair. The new found wound dripped with pitch, with ichor, with shadows and void. All they could do was stare as the light gave way to darkness.

And as Terbish woke up, tears welling slightly in their eyes, the taste of a twisted dream, the clutching of a fading memory lingering in their mouth, a soft question escaped them: “Who were you?”

[latikaa-renaz]

∞ i give a squiggle for Helios

If I Think They Are: Ugly || Plain || Alright || Cute || Freaking Adorable || Pretty || Beautiful || Hot || Stunning

“I love to call Helios handsome to his face, he flips out! Especially if his dumb mask was already off... That being said, in reality he doesn’t have striking features or anything unique... and he’s mauled let’s be real. I still think he’s dazzling, it’s in his hidden smiles and the way I can sometimes get that soft look in his eyes. Also, when you’re used to his insanity, the outlandish reactions are so cute... Kind of like Doreen and her excitement over anything shiny or suddenly existing in her viewpoint.”

If I Would Go On A Date With Them: Not even if we were the last two one earth || No || Maybe || Eh….Sure || Yes || WILL YOU MARRY ME

“Absolutely? We basically do that often enough anyway, just spending time with each other as we do whatever occupies our individual attentions. I’d love to do that more, he’s one of the few I can stand to have in my workspaces let alone touching things in them.” 

If I Trust Them: Not At All || Not Really || Kind of || Yes || With My Life

“We have an understanding, to say the least. I’ve come to understand... understand that for good and bad we’re similar men. To which... I’m not going to dig where I’m not wanted, nor will he. Not till a miracle occurs and we’re ready on our own, or disaster hits that forces it. I’m not nearly as allergic to the idea of it as he, but it’s not an easy thing to come to terms with.”

If I Care About Them: Not At All || Not Really || Kind of || Yes || Deeply

“If you’d asked me a few moons ago, I would have laughed and said not really. Then I was haunted by the weirdest shit for him, and ended up really attached, so. Yeah, I care deeply and a tad bit obsessively about him. In a good way! A healthy ‘I cannot trust this kuponut brained moron to exist so I must help’ way. We’re too similar in the worst of ways... at least for him I know how to soothe some of his hurts.”

If I Would Sleep With Them: Not Enough Alcohol in the World || No || Maybe if I were wasted || Maybe || Eh…Sure || Yes || TAKE YOUR CLOTHES OFF NOW!

There’s a moment where Latika’a leans in slowly, keeping eye contact. “He has escaped me once, and I respect his space and deep traumas. The minute I can tell that despite his self-esteem which lies lower in the ground than the graves he digs with his words... if has the interest again, though? I will have that ass. Like, not in a creepy way, but if you meet my boyfriend and look at Helios, you’ll see some things in common for my Type. I will be so patient. Eh, creepiness aside... if he genuinely doesn’t ever want to, I think I’m alright with that. The only time it’s come up was- it was a bad time for him, and I don’t regret being the responsible one in the least. I adore him no matter what he can or can’t give me. Aside from cake, I expect cake. And cuddles, if he stops those I will riot.”

My Comfort Level With Your Muse: Keep a Distance || Okay You Can Stand There, But Don’t Touch Me || Let’s Get Coffee and Talk || Let’s Cuddle || I Can Change In Front of You || Let’s Take a Bath Together

“I don’t think this needs words. Have you seen me near him? All of Ishgard now knows I’m a cuddleslut with this man. Quite literally, not even the frigid hearts and wastelands of Coerthas stopped me from getting some quality cuddling when we both ended up there. Besides, I’ve changed and bathed him by now no matter how it was in a medical setting! I’d that’s pretty comfortable!”

If I See You As: A Stranger || An Acquaintance || A Friend || A Close Friend || My Best Friend || A Crush || The Love of My Life

“He~li~os~ ❤!” Hands coming up to squish at his own cheeks childishly. “You don’t get driven to the brink of insanity and rescue a man from a dimensional rift and not end up some kind of really close friend. Probably. We ended up that way, anyway. I will never let him escape the grasp of friendship now.”

[gaillaffxiv]

I send you a book for the Dank Dallia Advice

(Ask here!)

“Alcohol is a great filler when you can’t find a meal, an’ plenty of people out in the Quicksands or wherever are willin’ to just hand it to you. Usually more often than food. You can still try fer food, but if yer not able t’get yer hands on it? Just drink until yer full.”

[thegildedgun]

If you receive this, you make someone happy. Go on anonymous and send it to 10 of your followers who make you happy. If you get some back, even better! Have a lovely day 💕💕💕

Hey nerd you forgot to go anon. 

edit: (♥)

[saahsffxiv]

>:Y Ten through twenty for questions for a Saahs!

talk about your writing

I worry a lot that I don’t put enough detail in my writing, especially about the environment my characters are in at the time. Setting is difficult for me to describe, but apparently I do it decently any how, according to a couple of people. Writing doesn’t come as naturally to me as drawing does, but it’s still something very important to me. I use art, music, and writing to express my feelings, and I think that shows a lot in the characters I create and the stories I write.

fluff or angst?

Depends on my mood! I love both quite a bit, and usually I’m up for either at any time. I’ve got one hell of a sweet tooth for giving characters a bad time, though-- and not just my own, I’ll fuck anyone up if asked. IC conflict of any kind is fun for me, so long as it’s not overdone. *stares at WoW guildies*

favorite book?

Man that reminds me, I haven’t read much lately, should change that! I used to read constantly, but now the words and paragraphs kind of just swim all over the place for me and gives me a headache. BUT, as for my all-time favourite book, hmm... what book do I think about the most... Ah.

Watership Down.

It’s one of my favourite books, it’s a favourite for a couple of my alters, we just. Love it.

how are you?

Right now, immediately? Dissociating pretty hard, my dog was put down today and I don’t handle grief very well.

Over all? Stiiiill not too great. I’m slowly digging myself out of a depressive episode that’s lasted for a few months now. Not much has interested me, and I’m feeling a lot of doubt and guilt over tiny things that shouldn’t matter. It’s hard for me to both empathise and sympathise with people now, and I’m worried that something is wrong with me that wasn’t before. But, I’m also still early on T, so it might just be hormones flipping their shit before the seas calm again. /shrug

ghosts or monsters?

POR QUE NO LOS DOS!?!?!?!?!?!

Seriously, I love monsters, I love ghosts. I’ll prefer one over the other depending on my mood and ofc who’s fronting, but both are great. I love coming up with fictional lore for both in stories and roleplay.

what does your name mean?

Which one. I don’t really go by an actual name right now because existential crisis #443646, yay!

Saahs is a typo of one of my characters’ name (Sasha), and it just. Stuck. It’s going to stick ‘til the day I die. >8y

So I guess it means nothing except to me! And to me it means friendship.

ice cream, candy, pie or cookies?

Candy, I s’pose. I’m not too big on most sweets a lot of the time, they make me feel sick real quick. I’m partial to more fruity stuff, though! And sometimes I’ll crave the others, it’s just rare.

what motivates you?

A lot of things. My partners, my sister, looking back at my progress thus far, music, stories that click with me, and spite. Lots and lots of fucking spite. :)

are you a jedi master?

I think by lore, I’d be more of a Sith apprentice. Not to sound edgy (I know I’m hella edgy tbh). I’m driven by a lot of my negative emotions, and I get attached very quickly. But I also learn quick.

describe love

Oh boy. I was just talking about this with my sister the other day, actually. Neither of us really know what love is meant to feel like. I have a hard time differentiating between different kinds of love for people, and love for me is wishy-washy. Sometimes I feel it and know I feel it, other times I’m not sure but I still care, and other times emotions barely exist at all for me. So I don’t really know how to describe love. Maybe as uhh...

I guess I’d describe it as, looking at someone and thinking, “ When this is all over, I hope we meet again.”

favorite cryptid(s)?

I’m not really all that partial to cryptids, surprisingly! I have a love for some folklore creatures, but cryptids specifically? Don’t know shit about ‘em. Mothman’s okay, but that’s just ‘cos I like bugs. But. Mothman isn’t actually all that moth-y, right?

I DUNNO SHIIIIIIT!

[eldanseeker]

❤️ Do they fall in love easily?

No. Physical attraction surfaces first for Seeker, way before any emotional attachment, and usually he’ll stop it right then and there before things get complicated. Unconsciously or not, he’s spent a lot of his life simply not allowing himself to fall in love. So Sudden Farid™ was a very unexpected relationship for him. I put it better in a previous blog:“Somehow, he’s managed to slip right past my defenses without even trying. He hasn’t pressured me, he hasn’t questioned me, and yet with him I find myself being open. Maybe that’s it. I’m so used to holding my ground against an onslaught, defending myself from people, that when someone simply stands outside and waits… I can’t refuse.”

[merlwybs-wife]

😗 — what are some of your favorite things to do when you have some time to yourself?

Well, writing, of course. I adore gpose, too. But, outside of FFXIV-- I love watching TTRPG, and adore Dimension 20. Dropout in general is amazing, and is only $6 a month, so I definitely recommend it. It has other things, like Game Changer, which deserves an Emmy tbh. Have a youtube channel with a ton of shorts from Game Changer. I also love playing TTRPG! I'm currently in a Curse of Strahd game with the delightful @breakingbridges I have hobbies I used to do that I enjoyed a ton, but my workspace was eliminated when my bro & his kids moved in for a few years. We're currently renovating the house bc he moved out, but have no furniture. HOPEFULLY I can get back into it. I love to sew, but have had no table to put a machine on in YEARS.

Thank you for the ask!

[korporxie]

K- Killer- how old they were when they first killed someone 

She was twenty, not far from twenty one. 

The attack on the tea house had been done in the dead of night. She was still in her night dress when she was ushering as many girls out as she could through a back door, but it was useless. The rival gang to Inazuma had no plans on letting anyone escape. Misaki was attacked from behind with an arm tight around her neck and another around her torso, dragging her down the hall. The scent of smoke was filling her nostrils, and she could hear the house mother’s screams coming from the other end of the hallway. 

“Let go of me!” Misaki gasped, straining and struggling against her captor. He was a man shrouded entirely in black. It was hard to see much of anything in the darkness of the night, but with the fire building inside, the area was rapidly becoming illuminated. 

Even still, she didn’t realize she had been dragged outside until her feet met with the wet snow in the garden. Just as a sack was being tossed over her head, she was suddenly released and hit the ground on all fours. Reaching up, she pulled the bag off of her head to see Kyo standing above the man that had been dragging her, his katana held aloft and dripping crimson blood. It fell in droplets upon the otherwise untouched white ground, and she looked up at the samurai, wide-eyed. The Raen reached for her after stepping around the body, and as she touched his hand, his eyes widened and his knees buckled. 

With his body falling, Misaki could clearly see behind him another man just as tall as the samurai, pulling back the katana he’d used to slit her friend’s neck with. His blood had splattered her face and her chest and added to the pool in the snow. His attacker was advancing on Misaki as she released an unholy howl. It felt as if the whole world was crumbling and filling with ash and smoke. She could still hear the others screaming inside of the geisha house, gunshots and the sound of steel clanging against steel echoing like a heartbeat in her ears. Kyo’s katana - the one with the white tiger on the hilt - had clattered to the ground. Despite the flames gathering around her fingertips, Misaki lifted it into her hands and rose up off of her knees as the other man continued forward.

“Put that thing down, girl – you don’t know what you’re doing,” he said, and she could hear the grin in his voice, taunting her. He wasn’t Hingan. The accent was distinctly Garlean. Nonetheless, she advanced towards him like a wild cat advanced upon its prey. Fire was surrounding her, building within in her, circling every inch of her perimeter and her body. 

“Your friends have been teaching me how to use it,” he continued, brandishing the weapon he’d used to slaughter her mentor. It’s an elegant tool. Come, now, Blossom of Kugane - this doesn’t have to be as messy as you’d like to make it. Be still. Come quietly.” 

“Silly pale boy, playing samurai and ninja with a borrowed weapon,” she hissed in Hingan. It didn’t even sound like her voice. He blinked his pale eyes at her and, in one swift movement, Kyo’s katana had been sunk into the Garlean’s stomach. Leaning in close, she whispered into his ear as he gasped and fell to his knees, just as Kyo had done moments before.

“Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.”

It is sweet and fitting to die for your country. 

(( Thank you, @zhauric and @breakingbridges!

[teebster]

📜

Teebs sings. I’ve mentioned this a little bit quietly before but, let’s get into it a little.

Teebs has a bad case of memory issues, and they try not to dwell on it too much, thankfully getting by most of the time without it coming up in any seriousness. But sometimes, when left alone, and the mind wanders like it tends to do, they find themself with an itch that they can’t quite scratch. Sometimes they keep picking at it until it frustrates them. Other times, it’s like a haze. A lingering fog in their mind that they’re not actively focused on because they’re likely doing some sort of task. The latter is when the singing comes into play.

Funny enough, it’s not songs of the Steppe they sing. Those are much more likely half hummed, bits and pieces they can’t quite remember but offers an odd sense of nostalgia.

The songs they do sing, offer otherworldly sounds. Literally. They’re not from The Source, but instead are echoes of melodies from the Thirteenth. While very rarely heard due to their only relaxing enough to slip out songs when entirely alone, when heard, the result is often just false rumors of ghosts and siren like creatures haunting ruins, individuals so lost that they’ve forgotten how to communicate within known languages and are just imitating the sound with a quiet lingering sadness, or something singing in tongues lost to time. It’s nicer than the stories that loosely follow them about a monster and voidsent ravaging lands and eating folk and beast to appease their need for aether at least.

The best idea of an example I could give for the overall effect of their singing, and the idea of it being from so far somewhere else that the language wouldn’t register as actual words to just about anyone passing by would be some stuff from like, NieR, given a lot of them are sung in a sort of fake language that takes structure from a handful of other languages to hold the allure of foreign tongues while not actually having a meaning.

[flimflamfranky]

This is a good blog, I love this blog thank you

aww that’s really sweet of you to say! thank you!

[gaillaffxiv]

🌺 Gailla has muscle, like she can lift weights 🌺

(Ask here!)

7/10

God I wish I did. Dallia, though? She... -can- lift weights, so long as they’re under 130 pounds. She struggles at 120. Any meat she has is muscle but its all lean because of her lifestyle.

[thegildedgun]

ANOTHER KNIFE (incase I can have two knives. Nothing is better than two knives in ya hands)

(I’m doing Helios again because I told you I had two ideas.)

Oh. He was seated. With a book in one hand and a cigarette in the other, he half-lounged, careless as he pleased, waiting for Sthalkhan to deliver news on the next spelunking project he and the Hyur would be headed out on. Scouting for proper companies like this was a new concept for him. Honest work.He wasn’t sure how to feel about it.Simpler was how he felt about the cold press of metal against the skin under his jaw. He had a dream about this once. Drawing the man’s anger, incensing him with humor? He wasn’t sure.But he was sure that his heart had stuttered wildly out of rhythm, just as it did now. That he’d laughed, been asinine.That it had scared the shit out of him, but he woke up and find his body intact.“Helios,” he voice dropped to a lower pitch, a resonant purr he reserved for occasions just like this. Sultry. He hated using it when there wasn’t the potential for a free drink involved. “You know, this is a bit rude, you’ve not even let me buy you a drink or dinner. At least allow me that. We can negotiate the rest, later. I’m sure we can come to an agreement that fits both our sensibilities.”

Send me 🔪 to put a knife to my muse’s throat and see how they react.