#how to install a thrive theme

[starrstruck-xx]

why kairi might be the one who manipulated sora's memory

yes you read that right, and no i did not mis-type this (if you're thinking hey that should be namine!)

i was going back a few times to kh3 and i found many patterns and cutscenes in 3 that can be compared to previous installments of the game, even side by side, this one particularly caught my eye:

crazy am i right

so remember that scene in 3 where sora falsely exclaimed "the light in the darkness" to be kairi? (it's actually riku) where sora and kairi goes enters the light to made it back to the real world

previous clip in link because tumblr isn't working with me ("riku, answer me!!" comparison with "okay! i have to protect them (aitsu)! Namine can you hear me?")

as you've seen in the comparison i realized it probably a direct paralell to namine's fake meteor shower scene back in COM Sora's side. And these lines of dialogue in particular interest me

it got me thinking, and i think that kairi purposely did something to sora's memory at some point in their lives. The exact when i'm not too sure, but she had inserted herself into some of riku's part in sora's life as sora's taisetsu na hito (special someone)

i know this sounds crazy, but i think there's a valid reason to this theory

Why??

the motive is clear: that kairi is lonely. i personally relate to her character struggle, loneliness can be suffocating, just like how namine portrayed hers that resulted to the events in COM

kairi's main theme has always been about 'seperation' and being left behind by sora and riku. so it would make sense for her to crave attention

kairi might feel sad that sora and riku doesn't pay attention to her unlike how they pay attention to each-other, so i don't see it as off character for her to insert herself into a fake picture if she had the chance, especially as the love interest of her crush

she even said this back in KH1 which sora responded with "Huh!? What's gotten into you?"

or is it done out of malicious intentions? there might be a possibility for that, but i don't think it is as it goes against kingdom hearts thematic story that stays consistent over the years, that portrays every character struggle in a sympathetic way that honestly you can relate too

(xehanort is even a subject to this in dark road)

i think that kairi felt really guilty about it and didn't realized the impact that she had done to sora and riku's relationship. or maybe she thrived for it, because even if the affection is not real, kairi is still loved and remembered by someone as their precious person, and it feels nice especially with someone like sora

snippet from kh3 novel

in the novels, there's a strong hint that kairi cut her hair because riku cut his, which contributes a lot to the theory of kairi wanting to be sora's precious person (riku) where she somewhat mimics his behavior (she probably realized deep down sora cares more about riku than her)

Passing Memories

i think this also made sense lore wise, because why else would sora suddenly lost his memory of riku? and i don't think sora's sort-of infatuation with kairi is caused by comphet alone

forgotten promises is a recurring theme in sora and riku's relationship, everything up to this point has always leads to hidden thoughts and burried memories, you have to dig deeper if you want to find a connection between sora and riku, the examples currently are:

whatever is happening between soriku

passing memories jp name of oblivion keyblade that is owned by roxas

riku is the TRUE light

necklace theory: the fact that THE necklace is everywhere in the game but is never brought up like ever

aitsu (check full discussion on the internet)

COM the game (just everything related to COM, the only game with riku and sora beside DDD? it's sus if you ask me)

compared to sora and kairi who's relationship always seems shallow and on the surface. i think it made more sense with the 'why' factor answered, because every time sora is thinking of riku, kairi would replace herself in his position, just like the light-tunnel scene in kh3

the 'oathkeeper' (promise charm) and 'oblivion' (passing memories) also reflected sora keeping his promise to kairi, but forgetting about his to riku, riku might not be affected in the same way that sora does, so this happens:

+ the multiple and many instances, riku is straight up covered by kairi

some of those instances:

kairi is true darkness (ex: sea is metaphor for darkness)

xion (is said to be kairi but proven also to also be riku)

the final world

Power?

honestly, i think kairi is more than she lets on (like LUXU), let's talk about her nobody:

i think it's already suspicious that namine has the power to mess with sora's memories (because she's from kairi's body and sora's heart?) when existing nobodies like roxas and xion for example has powers directly tied to their somebodies (kingdom key), xehanort doing xehanort things, marluxia possessing the same rose petals as his somebody counterpart, (and a lot more...)

so, with a game like kingdom hearts, does namine's powers really came out of no where? we know that sora doesn't have the ability to manipulate people's memories, so who else could it be?? kairi's powers might even be more powerful

this would also aligns with the theory 'riku is light-kairi is darkness' because even at front value the game is telling you 'hey kairi is LIGHT and riku is DARKNESS' time and time again its always the reverse in certain situations, but you never got to wonder what it actually mean

yes riku is the light, but why is kairi the darkness?? yes she sort-of brings demise as xehanort's pawn, but is it really just that?

lastly, kairi is a princess of heart, and might even came from the lost masters era as it is decorated and spammed with stars (every symbol is replaced by stars i'm not joking)

it's very on-theme with the 'traitor' plot point that has been consistent in every khux game, so... (i have a theory that kairi is master ava, or master ava is her grandma, OR kairi is mom... or skuld)

in addition to all of this, i also think that kairi can also be a creature, maybe she's actually a chirithy:

however i do think as opposed to riku as a dreameater (spirit), kairi is a nightmare chirithy, as seen in their color pallet (might be a coincidence but who knows)

[ladyofnegativity]

Heeeeey Tiny-! Okay so...

AHHDLRGSKSVDKVXSKSBRKRB. BITCH. WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT ACTUAL THE FUCK?!

How the hell did you make something so... SO-! ARGHHHHHH-! I CANT FIND THE WORDS-!!!

I'm blessed. SO FUCKING BLESSED.

THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU-!

Okay okay okay. So! I'll try to do a deepdive on the newest installment of Human Effects.

BigBotNoStop: Alright mechs, I come bearing an inquiry. As you may have heard from some of my last posts, the newest additions to our crew are a thriving colony of soft, squishy humans. Word in the taproom is some have taken quite an interest in... extending cultural exchanges, if you catch my drift. Not really my field of experience and was hoping some of Xeno's here might have some input. 

Posted to Sublink: Human and cybertronian relationships?

But I'm curious, are interspecies acts even possible without harm? Their frames seem so fragile. One wrong motion and SPLAT! No more humans. quite a few members of our crew have shown interest in flirting... Thoughts? Suggestions for how to proceed with care- help a mech out!

(I don't know why, but this bot reminds me of Skids. I've been reading the other installments, and so far, my hunch on this is Skids.)

Blazemech: Yo! You got fleshies on your ship! Fragging jealousy!. Your ship is looking for any dock workers?

(Okay! So, from the context of what Blazemech wrote, I can tell that they aren't from the Lost Light. Perhaps a crew member from the Vis Vitalis, or some other ship? I don't know, but the name 'Blazemech' reminds me of FireStar(?), but judging from context, I don't think she'll want to work as a dock worker when she's second in command in the Vis Vitalis.)

TailOrTrails: Oh Primus, are we really having this discussion?? Look, I get the appeal of those soft little flesh bags. Really, I do - different wiring can be so freakin' hot. But there's no way a romp with one of those puny things ends well for them! Even accidentally bumping into a table puts them in the medbay. Think of the mess, One wrong thrust and you've got squish all over your plating.

(Riptide. Definitely Riptide. 'TailOrTrails' reminds me of a mech who has an aquatic themed alt mode, and we, Riptide turns into a boat. And from reading the other installments, Riptide acts hesitant yet intrigued.)

ISOCLEAN: Just download some holofacing and use your imagination if you're that jonesing for an organic interface. Trust me, it's not worth the risk - or hassle of cleaning up after. sure you can find something from the Human sites on Mechanophilia, slutty Show and shine or Car Washes. Stay shiny and keep those servos to yourself, mechs! Some curiosities are better left to fantasies.

(Honestly, I'm stumped with this one. I can't seem to find or remember someone who's a clean freak. Aside from Ultra Magnus, but then he wouldn't fit the mannerisms of ISOCLEAN. Fuck.)

Flyboi69: Don't leave a mech hanging, I want deets!, has anybot here actually gotten friendly with a fleshie before? I'm talking about hands-on experience. We've all gotten curious watching, but has the real thing lived up to the fantasy? 

(Tailgate??? I'm sorry, I REALLY don't know who this guy is. Could be Starscream, but it would fit with they way the text was worded.

I think it's Skywarp??? But then why would he be interested in humans???)

Pimptheride: Any tips for coaxing one into the berth, or does their tiny size mean you've got to take it slow and gentle? And most importantly... any videos out there of the deed? A mech's gotta do some, ah, research before taking the plunge. Hook a brother up if you've found any good amateur organic-on-mech action out there in the 'net. Gotta see it to believe it. 

(Haha! I read the name, and immediately thought of Knockout. Not because of the text or anything, but I just remembered that in Transformers: Prime, the animators decided to pimp out Knockout, hence the 'Pimptheride')

ScienceSorcerer: For reasons. Does anyone know if humans have both Spikes and Valves? Or if they have any human anatomy holos or books and such from Earth they are willing to sell for some decent Shanix.  

(Brainstorm. The mech that started it all. I'm betting everything that this is Brainstorm.)

T-Wrexz: Primus, you mechs are hungrier than fragging scraplets. As far as I know, relations between our kinds are still uncharted territory. Could be amazing, could end badly - who's to say until we try? Personally I'm keeping an optic out, just curious to see what new experiences those squishy aliens can offer us tough metal mechs. 

(Definitely Grimlock. The name gave it away.

I mean, do you know any other mech who has a T-Rex alt mode??? Yeeeeeah.

But what business does Grimlock have with humans??? To think that he'd be interested in humans in really funny to me.)

Bar-rizzla: Oho, look who's swapping tall tales. I've been keeping a close optic on our ships squishy company since they came aboard. And between you and me... I may have an in with their ambassador that could lead to some juicy first-hand intel. Just trying to track down the bot we think they are berthing with. Crews got bets out. Turns out they get just as curious about us big metal hunks as we are them!. The other night, their chat got particularly saucy after a few drinks. Lots of gossip and speculation about which lucky bot one of them might take for a private ride. 

(Easy pickings. This is Swerve. I know it is.)

WPHAS-Violation: I may have a certain special "human entertainment" vid I could share. Let's just say the organic in question got quite... friendly with an eager mini-con. You know where to find me if you're brave enough to watch! 

(I'm torn between giving this to Rewind or to Tapemix54. From context, I'd say WPHAS-Violation is from the Lost Light, but then what about Tapemix54??? Is Tapemix54 Soundwave???

👀 Who was this Minicon that got lucky... Hmmmmmm.)

Tapemix54: Oho, mechs - think you've got it bad now? You should've seen some of the real deviants back before the war. When I was still stationed on Petrex, I knew this one smuggler - went by the name Rattler. Sneaky little scraplet, but Primus if he didn't have the wildest stories. Rattler used to run goods across time and space, dodging security at every turn. He'd pop up out of nowhere selling the rarest exotic "pets" to rich senators and other high caste mechs looking for a thrill. I'm talking aliens so bizarre even our data banks had never heard of their kind. But the highest bidder always walked away with a new "plaything" to break in, if you catch my drift. Word was Rattler even had a collection of sentient organics that he'd let special clients "test drive" between runs. Humans were apparently a favourite - their smaller frames could take all sorts of creative handling. Rattler had vids, too, of course, to entice buyers. I saw one once, let's just say "versatile" doesn't begin to cover it. Naturally the vids have all been scrubbed by now. But I bet if you knew where to dig in the deep web or some easily swayable Archivist, you might find traces of Rattler's stash still floating around out there.

(Fuck. FUUUUUUCK. Now I'm thinking that this is Chromedome because he was stationed in Pretrex with Prowl when they were sent to investigate the assassination of Senator Sherma.

For all I care, Rattler could have been Swindle since... Y'know, he was trafficking humans. Though, now that I think about it, would Swindle even be old enough to do that??? FUUUUUUUUCK.)

"Old records saved of the Senator and his human Conjunx”

It's a file collection of holotapes and pictures: "Enjoy these are pre war photos of Senator Shockwave and his Human holding their sparkling" 

There are many holos and videos of the long gone senator smiling with his human perched on his shoulder, in the crystal garden with a young sparkling held in the human's arms. Videos of the sparkling playing with the two but the last The last holo looks like a family portrait with Shockwave’s frame in a lime green blue white paint with gold accessories,  his human lover is dressed in elegant robes and the small blue praxian sparkling held in their arms. Each holo is dated with the Iacon records seal of authentication. 

(Okay. Okay okay okay. I LOVE the fact that you decided to incorporate Laboratory Logs to Human Effects. Admittedly, I did not see that coming when I sent that ask. Smart move.

And uhhh... Now that a few mechs have seen the photos, wouldn't that mean that if they ever recognized a mech that looked a lot like Senator Shockwave's long lost sparkling, It'll further cement the fact that uhhhh.... Fuck. I think I lost the path.

Uhmmm... Think about it like this, when Ratchet sees the family photo and sees the little sparkling, wouldn't he recognize that it's Traxies?)

FlyBoi69: NO FREAKIN' WAY. Is this real?! *downloads files faster than Blurr* FRAG ME SIDEWAYS, I think I just popped a gasket! How in the PIT did you manage to dig up the holos of senator Shockwave, most of his speeches, debates and lectures were wiped. Where did you find this!

(Honestly though, I'm still not sure who this guy is. Could this be Misfire??? AHHHHHHH.

Who are you FlyBoi69?!)

Jackin0: of all mechs, with an actual human back in the Golden Age?!. I'm calling scrap on this being real. It's gotta be a flawless deepfake. By PRIMUS if true - to think ol' Shockers was living it up with a squishy. Maybe there's more to those Senatorial types than meets the optic...

(Jackie. Definitely Jackie. Ah! Sorry, I meant Wheeljack.

It's just cool to call him Jackie. ☺️)

T-Wrexz: Okay, I'll bite... but someone better explain to me RIGHT NOW how any of this computes! Last I checked, time travel and inter-species relationships were the stuff of erotic imagination, not legitimate pre-war archives. Tapemix, you better start talking. Where in the PIT did you source these files? How do we know they're authentic and not just an incredibly convincing parlour trick? Because if I'm gonna let these images ruin me, I wanna be ruined by the real deal! Spill it, mech. 

(I REALLY think this is Rewind. Cause Rewind likes to collect rare footage.)

Iacon-Records: Tapemix54 could i please request where you discovered these as i work with Iacon records and this here is history that needs to be preserved. I'm willing to talk with you through a contractor if you would be willing for us to add these back into the new hall of records. Cybertron has lost so much and to find something like this I ask that we find a way to preserve it.  

(Optimus. THIS IS OPTIMUS PRIME.

You can't get more Optimus than Iacon-Records.)

BigBotNoStop: Pit take me now... I think I may have to reassess everything I thought I knew about interface and partnerships. That human is holding a sparkling curled around them - frag if it isn't the most beautiful thing I've ever seen! If anything could make me believe in miracles, it's this! Tapemix, you glorious glitch - how can I ever repay such an enlightening gift?

(Okay. I'm getting more and more convinced that this is Skids.

On that note, I like to think that whoever managed to see the photos are going to think, 'I can have a sparkling with a human'.

Which is cool, but then a bummer if they found out that Tiny didn't actually carry Traxies but was instead adopted from a hotspot when he imprinted on Tiny.)

Tapemix54: These were filed only cycles after Shockwaves Emputra; they were added to the Iacon records by some Archivist under the title. 'I will Remember you for who you were'. This was right when the senate fell apart on the brink of the war. From my knowledge of information on Rattler he apparently had an outlier who he got to take them to different times since he was a shuttle made it easier to transport. That's from the  records that still exist at least. I'll take you up on that offer Iacon-records. 

(Okay. That mysterious archivist? Definitely Optimus.

...

But wasn't Optimus a police officer during that era??? Wasn't he working with Sentinel at that time???

And who's this mysterious shuttle??? Omega Supreme??? JDDKSJDLDHDKGKSGS.

And who's RATTLER?! So many questions and so little answers.)

Oh, and Tiny? I really want to thank you for humoring me. You have no idea how much help you've given.

And uhhh.... Yeah....

ACCEPT MY LOVE AND APPRECIATION.

꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡ TINY ♡⁠˖⁠꒰⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠⑅⁠꒱

[cherubnthechaoschoir]

CHERUB (PART III) - Dealer!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering.

a note from Lucy: Well, this is it folks. The third and final instalment of the unholy trinity that is cherub. The fic that i had no idea would get this amount of traction. The fic that gave me my username, blog theme, the majority of my mutuals and the freedom to explore more taboo areas of writing that I never felt comfortable with doing before. I just wanted to thank you all for all the kind words you’ve shared with me. Comments, reblogs, messages, they all mean the utter world. But i also want to specifically thank @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin who was such a huge help for motivation when wrting each of these. She's been there since the first day of cherub and always let me obsess over dealer!joel with her. Ange, i love you baby. Out of all my fandom experiences, this has definitely been one of the best. I know this sounds a lot like a goodbye completely, but it's not i swear! I just never really knew where this was going, but I think this is a pretty good way to end the series and I hope you agree too. Part of me isn't ready to let go after such a short run, but I honestly have no idea where to go from here so I think I did it as much justice as I could. Regardless, Cherub and Dealer!Joel will forever have a place in my heart all thanks to you lovely lot! Your love means the world to me and you are all so easy to share this with, you've given me an environment to flourish creatively and I'm eternally grateful for that. I wish you all the love, hugs, kisses, and angel wishes in the world! 

playlist 

wc: 5548 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! Unedited for now, no outbreak, no use of y/n but joel calls the reader ‘Cherub’, plot? what plot? we all know we're here for the porn anyway, bombastic age gap (reader is in her early 20’s and Joel is in his late 50s), gore imagry, religious imagry, Smut, very dubcon in theory but both want it bad, grafic smut, P in V sex (unprotected — pleaseee don’t do tis irl i beg of you), teasing, sort of edging? (idk what to call it but he doesnt fuck you until you beg for it lol). nipple play, biting biting biting!!!!!, references to domestic violence, use of pet names, manipulative! joel, stupid stupid cherub, stockholm syndrome, oral (f receiving), cum eating, pussy slapping, Joel being foul mouthed, cursing, dirty talk, overstimulation. Again, some of the most animalistic, disgustingly wretched and vile vile vile porn I have written thus far…with so little plot that this earned me my place in hell, i have my own circle now. Big Dick Joel Miller comes as his own warning.

series m.list | m.list

The danger didn't lie in his hands. It didn't sit in his closed first to be suffocated. Choked out until the life of it was compressed. Until its face was blue, then purple and its eyes were bloodshot and streaked with red. The danger lay in your heart. And it thrived off the beating.

What is ‘it’, you ask? Mania.

The Greeks had it nailed down when they split love seven different ways. To the crucifix through its punctured and bleeding palms. All equal, but different. They understood that one love is different to the other. That love can be either obsession, or lingering in the quiet parts of a person's mind. You cannot hold up a mirror to one and deceive into believing it is another. No matter how sweet the lie seeps into the ear. They don't work that way. You were not Lucifer, you had no forked tongue. And your mania wasn't Eve. There was no apple to devour. Only the strong arm of Joel Miller to cling to like a noose.

Some love passionately. Find it in the scathing friction of flesh upon flesh. The heat two bodies make only in sex. You were no body anymore. Merely a corpse for him to dig up and breathe life into whenever he needed relief. So it was not Eros. Some love playfully. In the back and forth of a conversation that makes the mind and heart float in the clouds among the soul. Entwine them together until you are too sedated to know the difference between the three pillars of personal holy trinity. There was nothing lighthearted about Joel Miller. So there was no Ludus. Affection. The subtle, it-is-there-even-when-it-is-not weight of lovers hand in lovers hand. Joel clutched your throat with his heavy hand. He didn't lace your fingers in his like tapestry threads. And he was anything but friendly. So it could never be Philia. He was not unconditional. Familial. Constant. Committed. Long lasting. Selfless. He crept in through the backdoor and took. Then slipped back out. So the thick blood red line was drawn through Storge. Agape. Pragma. The love you had was not for yourself. Without him you hated yourself. Hated how you didn’t feel needed. Or wanted. So Philautia was buried six feet under hot earth, the final nail in the coffin that was lowered into the rotting, thick-with-decaying-mulch, stenching ground. By none other than Mania.

This was something you came to realise as you stumbled from his truck back to your room. His come dribbling down your leg. Luke asleep on the sofa. Months passed of the same thing. He’d take you home from work, only letting you go once he'd had his fill. Played out the sick fantasy from mind to matter, let it bleed through his fingers into fruition. You let it happen for mania. It was the thing inside you that kept you going. Before you thought mania fed off your heartbeat. But now you realised mania fed your heartbeat. The kick it got every second fired the next muted pulse. That's what kept it alive. Energy for energy. You were never one to bite the hand that feeds. That’s a sinner's duty.

—

The usual sight of Luke slumped in his lazy boy, guzzling beer was what you expected. The liquor once again swigged past his lips and dribbling down his stubbled chin. Wiry greying hair greasy on his head, balding. Thinning. Residue from a line on the coffee table. You were never tempted by it before. And you were determined never be a Angel dust statistic like him.

Instead, you opened the flimsy door of your trailer to see him hunched over a small collapsible table. His hand running over his sunken eyes, dragging purple eye bags down with his fingertips in shame. Cards in his other. It had your breath catching in your throat like a hare in a wire snare trap. This time around the small collapsible round table. Cards in his hand. And two other men shared a knowing glance and a grim smile of satisfaction. Him.

Joel Miller.

The tension was thicker than molasses in the room. You only wished it was as sweet. You swallowed it down thickly. It stretched your throat. You watched in morbid fascination when he lay his hand on the table in a fan for all to horror at, a sly smirk slithering over his lips and curling the one corner of it up like a scorpion's tail.

“Full house.”

“Fuck!” And Luke’s hand slapped the tabletop as he folded.

The door clicked. All three looked up to see you. Luke, Joel, and the man who held a familiar resemblance to your own personal devil. With eyes on you, you felt more like that hare in the snare than ever. Clapping eyes on the hungry wolf as mutton dripped bloody from his sneer. Cruel and hungry. You imagined him as that wolf, hyde thick and bristled under your soft fingers as he led you to some deep, dark, thorny place. A place only lit by the eyes of owls who observed while he had his way with you. Ripped your stockings to get to sweet fruit.

“Great, the cunt is home.” Luke spat to the room but you, looking over the table again as he bit his thumb nervously to the edge of the hangnail. “Get me a beer.” Your nostrils flared in defiance at his demand, knuckles pale as fingers furled into a fist. An army of goosebumps had stood to attention all along your arms and the back of your neck. A shiver shattering down your spine. Your heart had enough of its prison of your ribcage in your anger, ramming into it over and over in a frantic hammering. And when that wasn't enough, you felt it in your throat. Among the tightening of your airways. “You hear me girl?” He asked, looking at you. He stood, chair scraping against the floor and you staggered back to the point your shoulderblades hit the door. While he was a thin, wiry man, he had a vicious backhand that stung. Like a vengeful aftertaste. “Y’need me to beat some sense inta ya girl, huh?!” You dared to spare a glance at Joel who was too busy collecting his winnings. You soon to be among them.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, looking to the floor and cowering off to the kitchen to get him his beer.

“Y’short, Luke.” You heard from the doorway, straining to hear the tail end of the conversation. Something about your uncle having it by monday. And then Joel telling him he shouldn’t raise a bet he doesn't have the dough to cover.

It took a second to catch your breath. Tears strung in your eyes and your chest threatened to split in two. Your sternum felt like it was cracking down the middle into clean halves under the weight of your chest. A hand clasped over your quivering lips to bite back a horrible sob and muffle it. Only your palm could know you were crying miserably. So you took a beer from the fridge, heard the hiss as the lid gave way and popped off. It clattered to the linoleum and you bared your teeth at the grating sound, picking it up and tossing it in the bin.

“Here.” You mumbled, placing it unceremoniously on the table in front of Luke.

“Y’got any spare cash on you, girl?” Luke asked, beady eyes staring you down as he raised the bottle to his lips and took a drink. You grimaced inwardly at the sight of his yellow teeth when he made a satisfied sigh.

“No.”

Joel’s brow raised. You should know by now not to lie to a man who can read you like a book. That's the thing about narcissists. They have a way of being able to understand you like a one word sentence on paper. A quick glance and you’re unravelling with concealed meaning and connotation.

“C’mon, Cherub…gotta have something from workin’ this late in that diner of yours…” You dared to challenge Joel with a look. A look that retreated soon after the advance of the glare of his eye. The same glare of the hungry wolf. Of the cheated man. It was unkind, and unyielding, and did not hold mercy upon the souls of the enthralled, the damned, or the harrowed. You might try to cross through the sentence, or turn the page. Or shut the book entirely. But the truth is still the truth even when you chose not to look. This was the man that knew your mind. Knew your body. And coaxed his will out of you each time. His word was all it took to cave, so you took the folded bills from your apron, flicking through them with a bitten back scowl,

“How much does he owe you?” Joel smiled with amusement, counting through his winnings to see what was short.

“Ninety-eight.”

‘What?” you asked, eyes wide, hurt. Disheartened. Fingers stilling halfway through the small stack. And Joel smirked.

“You heard me, Cherub.”

“Give Joel his money.” Luke warned.

“But it’s not his money! And it’s not yours to give!” You tried, and saw the warning tick of your uncle's narrow jaw. It was always set on edge before he threw a hand. Cast a palm across your cheek in a brandishing. It had you cowering. Relenting. Tossing the money in front of him. If it fell to the floor in its flurry he could pick it up and grovel about it. But Joel never grovelled. Only relished. Then reminded Luke of the money he still owed for the drugs.

And you walked back to the kitchen, biting into your lip again. With the devil and your demon in the next room over, you were sure this could be hell. A buzz filled your ears. Like the constant thrum of flies over roadkill. In festering flesh wounds where broken white of bone poked through gaping, bleeding holes. Blood matted in the hyde of the animal helpless and scattered across the road. A leg here, smashed teeth there. You were the roadkill. Joel was at the wheel of that which mowed you down. Luke was howling in the passenger side.

His boots thumped clumsily over the linoleum and he let out a huff through his nose while he adjusted his low slung jeans in the doorway.

“Cherub?” He asked, clearing his throat huskily — a consequence of the smokes he used religiously. You stood with your back to him, palms flat to the countertop and head hung low to fight the sting of tears simmering from within.

“He threatened to hit me.” You whispered, not turning to face him. If you mattered his ears would strain to meet you halfway. “And you did nothing.”

“Come on, Cherub…don't be like that.” he sighed, and you imagined him pinching the bridge of his hooked nose.

“He took my money. You took my money. How am I gonna get out of here without it?” You croaked, your tired eyes seeing faces of gaping mouths and slate black eyes in the speckled linoleum of the counter.

No reply came from the door. And when you turned it was empty. He had left. The other man had left. The tv was on again with the scream of a woman murdered. And Luke fell asleep in his lazy boy.

—

Another day, another shift. And more horror ensued. At first, what set the nerves thrumming was there was no sign of Luke. His truck was gone from its spot. No drunk slumped on the worn leather settee. No scream or grotesque image on the TV. Merely an empty bottle on the coffee table.

You swallowed, shutting the door cautiously with a muffled click of the latch. You didn't dare call his name. Just pushed it down into your stomach for it to churn the thought up in acid. But the horror jumped back up your throat into a lurid scream at the sight of your mattress tossed to the side. The moth bitten pillowcase on the floor, void of money. Your money. Gone. Someone had rifled through your belongings. Turned your only space into a mess. Strewn clothes, bed sheets, pillows in their haste. All your work. All the nights of living off bitter coffee from the pot at work, scrounging together tips. It made you seethe. The heat was an inferno at your fingertips, nails embedding crescents into your palms. You searched all over for it. But to no avail.

When Uncle Luke came home, he smelled of hard liquor. It was a miracle – or curse – he hadn't wrapped his car around a tree. He gloated, and sneered, and shoved it down your throat in his intoxication that he’d found it under the mattress. Joel had called him, told him you planned on leaving. And he connected the dots. Ransacked your room. Oh, how the man would hate his loose lips when you gave him hellfire.

You expected Luke’s reaction. You knew if he were to ever find out he’d snatch it up in his greedy, grimy hands and take it for himself. He spent all of it. Paid his debt to Joel, gambled some on bad luck bets, drank with the rest. Slugged liquor down his throat and got drunk off your labour. And then left you on your floor with tear stained cheeks and a heart of heavy lead.

You wanted your money. But would you take from the man who gave you your everything? Your sense of being. A religion and faith. You believed in nothing more than the way he held your name between his teeth. You forgot what your real name felt like in the same place. And it occurred to you that he had never said it. Did he know it? You weren't them anymore. You were Cherub.

The sweet and mourning lamb in you wanted to go over just to be his again, and not carry out the plan of taking back what was yours. That which he would see as sin. You felt guilt claw up your throat at the thought alone. It seemed blasphemous to conspire against him. Why do you insist on protecting yourself. You who was the sacrificial lamb?

If you did go – and you let him have you again – you were whole. But at what cost? Could you stand another night of temporary hell under the guise of heaven. Of touch so cold, like ivory or black ice. To have him thumb your skin with blunt endearments and the croon of ‘cherub’ past his chapped lips. Definite like black and white. No escape. What he’d do and how. Whispering them in the stone deaf shells of your ears like they were a sculpture. Pygmalion’s Bride. He’d made you all you were today. Took chisel to marble and carved out his masterpiece. Cherub.

You were soft, and pliable. Wax heated by his flame. You kissed back. You moaned for him. Begged him for his release and not your own. Bruised with his handprint. The warmth of life under flesh. But without him…you returned to marble. Another pretty thing to be gawked at. He tempted you with it because he knew more than anyone, more than god himself who watches these exchanges, that you can't live without him. It was like telling a child not to slip off to the woods in the dead of night. That was a pointless warning. You knew what lay there anyway, what threat it would be. That wolf in his thick bristled hyde. Curled up in his den. You would see it as innocence and vulnerability if you weren't so scared. But you knew when he woke up the teeth would shine again. And they’d tear flesh. Let blood. Gnash bone. Dripping from the glaring white once he finished with your carcass. Your matter between them and your crimson lacing his gums. Who knew being eaten alive could be so pleasurable.

But then again, how could bering alone really be hell if the devil wasn't there?

There is mania in your body. But you can't get it out. It rattles in your head and lungs and glues to the backs of your gnashers. No matter how much you wish to spit it out. It infects your tongue. It welds itself to the matter of your bones. Melts into the cracks between your teeth. Claggy against your tongue. All to show the sweetest of words have the bitterest of tastes. You can feel it swell underneath your skin. In the gap between muscles where it festers and heats you up. Like fever it burns, like the fire that consumes and the pillars that hold the temple up crack, the ground shakes, and the beast rears its ugly head at you. You’re losing your body to him. It's a fight you try to win. You dare to. You give your all, tooth and nail each time in the gaps between. In the silence and hollow that nestles in the middle of the meetings. In the quiet, where no one is around but the cracked plaster of your room. You stopped caring who fired the gun first. You were always the one who got shot down in the end. Right in the stomach. Blood gurgling up your throat in a grotesque plea for help.

All these weeks you had shrunk yourself to the size of a bird in his hands, sang a sweet sweet song of his name, until the squeeze of his first closest off your throat. And the sound stopped altogether. Laid there after the warning. Patient while you had your wings clipped and your freedom taken. And he took more. Took the beating of your heart with his teeth. Took the will to want. The will to love. The will to need anything else, as well as the need to have better. Below you were the foundations. Only now you saw them for what they were, a decaying mess of fragments, the stench of wood rot hot in your nose. A musk like no other. His musk. So in your anger you took an axe to a willow to see how it would weep. You slipped past the sleeping drunk you call Uncle Luke. Out the door, over gravel, past the truck he coaxed you to without the need of a sweet treat. You’d yank the axe from the bark of the weeping willow, its sob echoing in the wind that rustled its drapery of lush green leaves. Leaves that will wilt as sap bleeds from its severed trunk. Take the axe to the wolf. Cut him. Scrotum to throat.

Take back what was yours. And leave those woods skipping.

—

Your knocks descend upon his door in quick raps until he opened it with a grumble. Then a smirk. “Evenin’, Cherub.”

No salvation. No going back. No space among the clouds. Just the fall. You pushed past him into his front room. “Where is it?’ You hissed, tossing the cushions of the couch up. Nothing there. So you left them on the floor and did the same for the airchair. Nothing there either.

“Woah, calm down, girl!’ Joel huffed, reaching for your arm, which you tugged back from him in a new found strength surging you forward, out of his arms. “Where’s what?”

“My damn money, Miller!” You bit back with venom laced spit. A hunger for revenge making you salivate like a bad dog.

“The fuck you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about, dickhead!” And he recoiled at your bared teeth, your verbal assault and battery, but went in for his own.

“Watch your damn foul language, girl!” He warned, reaching the end of his already short tether.

“You know how much he stole from me? Three hundred dollars of my hard earned chash. Forget my fucking ticket out of this shithole, I ain’t even paying rent now! And for what? Your god awful drugs!” His nostrils flared, and you watched the vein in his neck bulge under the sweltering heat of his own anger. Coiling inside him. Wounded bitch about to bite back.

“You didn’t have much of a probelm with my drugs after I fucked that pretty little hole of yours. All dumb and needy f’me, Cherub.” You grimaced at the sneer. But the feeling made your knees buckle. The name again. Cherub. You were Cherub. His cherub. “You want ya money back, huh? You can have it.”

That made you stutter. Thoughts skidding to halt at the sight of a brick wall. Crumpled matter as it smashed into it anyway. “What?”

“I ain't giving it to you for free though.”

“You're sick! It’s my fucking money!”

“Not in the eyes of the law its not.” And he folded his great oaks of arms over his chest in satisfaction. Once again one upping you.

“The eyes of the law? Says the fucking drug dealer. I bet you got way worse than coke in duffel over there. Wonder what the law would say about that?” It was said dismissively over your shoulder as you turned to leave. Alas, once again his large hand encompassed your wrist and squeezed. Pulled you back flush to his broad chest. His breath was hot on your neck as he whispered sweetly into your ear.

“Come on now, Cherub. You wouldn't do me in like that would ya? Not when I love ya…”

The way he said it…it didn't seem real. It was false. Comforting but not real. You knew it was a lie. This wasn't love. He didnt love. If he loved you he'd ask for your number then call you. Take you out. Let you cry on his shoulder and drive you home after. Kiss you in the dark for only the walls to see. Let you stay a night or two, or a whole damn week. Give you your damn money back. Stand up to Luke with a closed fist to the face. Leave swelling and a deep bruise on his cheekbone as a first and final warning.

“You love me?” You asked, voice small and hollow in your chest.

“Yeah, Cherub. I love you too.” He cooed, as if he knew you loved him already. All this and nose running over the curve of the side of your neck, tongue trailing hot in pursuit, it had you keeling over in confession at his feet. “You’re so cute when you're angry. Come on now, lemme make those tears go away…and you can have your money back, and we can forget this ever happened.” That tone…it was patronising. It made the sense in you rattle the cage of your ribs. Claw at the bars of bone and run into them like a caged animal. Because that’s what it was. A caged animal. But your heart was holding its hand over its mouth in a trance as it let his words ebb deeper. Somewhere between desperate and divine. But what was his motive?

God, Jesus, all above that is holy, you didn't care! After all this time, it was still no secret, or hushed uttering that Joel Miller was now everywhere in you. Scraping the backs of your teeth, festering like a virus in your bloodstream. Melding to the marrow of your bones. The walls of your cunt.

He still had a devastating habit of seeping through the cracks of your closed lids. Still ready to pillage and plunder his way through your head in its numbed state of sleep. When you could have finally— finally stopped and not felt. But he ebbs deeper. Always would. Always will.

It's what got you here. It would end you if it could. Snuff out your heartbeat and the fire inside of you. All he need do was lick his fingers and press them to the wick. And leave the smoke to string out and curl. You thought you were hungry for love before. But now you realised you were just hungry for the sight of your blood on his lips. The gnashing of you between his teeth. The curl you made of his brow. If it wasn’t devastating, reaping its agony in your silly little fractured chest— you didn’t dare need, nor crave it. You came for the pleasure but you stayed for the pain. And he took again, and again.

So you let him ‘make it up to you’. Let him claw at your clothes until they were scraps on the floor. Tore your stockings. Showed you those gleaming teeth. The wolf. And you, his sacrificial lamb. His Cherub.

“Feel that?’ He asked, with the slow drag back and forth of him inside you, parting you. This wasn’t fast, or rough. This was slow. And it made you need more. Need it faster. Need him hurtling you towards the edge of harrowing oblivion. He knew that. It’s why he took his time with it this time around. “Yeah. You do.” Joel answered for you. You never had to answer. But often he made you say it from your own quivering lips. Just to have the taste of the words from your tongue bleed into his. The neverending praise. “Why would you wanna leave that Cherub?” You couldn't answer, only let out a soft sob. “Huh? Answer me, Cherub. Why’d you wanna fuckin’ leave that?” And he punctuated it with pulling out to the bulbous head of his clock, then slamming back in with one sharp thrust. And then he was still.

You whined a shallow gasp into his mouth. But he didn’t kiss you. Joel never kissed you. His teeth sinking into your bottom lip shut you right up before his tongue delved deeper into it. The thumb of the hand that slithered between your legs rolled over your clit, making you mewl over the buzz of electricity causing you to clamp down on his thick, full cock. You were so eager for more. Anything more than what he was giving you. He smirked into your mouth when he felt your hips buck forward, trying your damn hardest to push his cock deeper into you. Silly little cherub. You should know better than to defy God. “See? Felt good didn’t it?” You nodded as much as you could in your current piston.

“Mhm.”

“See what you can have if you stay. Why fight it cherub?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“You gonna listen then, Cherub?”

“Yes. Yes! I’ll listen, just-” You shuddered at the thought of it, tears brimming at the the threshold of your eye. ”Please.”

“Say it.” He waited, wanting you to beg for it in the pretty way he knew you could. The choir voice. The songbirds hymn. The whole time his eyes did nothing but stare you down hungry at the sight of you falling apart from nothing but a hand to your throat and a single his throbbing dick buried in your aching cunt. It all pooled down into your centre, creating a rush your head had trouble keeping up with. “Tell me why you wanted to leave.”

“I dunno-” You stuttered, once again rolling your hips up. His hand at your throat pressed into your skin again, harder. It choked you. It had you drawing in a sharp, meagre breath. And he pulled out, running the underside of himself through the hot, drooling seam of your cunt. You shivered when the tip brushed up to your clit momentarily. The bead of precome at his slit smearing into your sex, mixing with your slick. “I dunno, Joel. I- I just wanted my money. I just wanted out. I hate it.” You babbled through closed eyes, chest heaving with sobs, and hot tears ran thick down your flushed cheeks.

“You hate it, huh?” He mocked and crooned, still catching your clit with the tip of his cock, hips waxing and waning in a slow roll. “You hate me too?” He knew the answer. But again, it was the satisfaction of knowing you were wrapped around his finger. Ready to bend over backwards for him. Him seeping into you through the cracks of your ribs, the gaps between your teeth. The opening of yourself to the twisting knot of denial within you. Your back arched like the lofty roof of a chapel, legs parting like its heavy doors. He followed you with hunger. You opened your mouth to speak but he squeezed momentarily on your throat again, oxygen starvation and the smell of him dizzying you. He relished in the whimper that he garnered from you. That and how he left you breathless just from his cruel touch.

“No.” You garbled as his thumb unhinged your jaw. Saliva in your mouth pooling while his thumb pressed your tongue down, bitter with a smokers telltale tobacco staining. It slipped past your lips, dribbled down his digits making a sticky mess at the curve of his thick wrist. He drew up a glob of saliva in his throat, watching as it drooled thickly, gluttonously, past his lips into your waiting mouth. He watched as you gagged on it, and then he let your jaw go so you could close your mouth. You swallowed eagerly, savouring the taste on your tongue. For what did it matter anymore? One day, you’ll be nothing but dust. Bronchioles in lungs will mimic roots. Navels will copy trunks. Organs will feed worms. Ribs will fossilise and lips that are kissed will mould back to Mother Nature. It's all you have ever been. Quick. Convenient. Easy to please, eager to help. Waiting lips, wanting cunt. Warm, never warm enough. But he kept you like a butterfly in a glass jar. He let you see freedom but never experience it. Why need it when you had the stretch of him inside you. The feeling of him, heat to heat with your sex.

“You want this, cherub? Wanna be stuffed full of me again?”

“Always wanted it, Joel.” You mumbled into his mouth, sniffing back the last this spurt of tears, hypnotised. His hand wrapped around his cock, the large splay of his palm did nothing to dwarf its size with he jacked himself once, twice, three times to the sight of you. He squeezed the base with hiss, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth after cursing under his bated breath. He was thick, flushed, the tip swollen and leaking, drooling greedily with a rivulet of precum down the underside of his length. He trod a path with his hands down to your breasts, kneading each one between his palms with a pinch before guiding himself back into the mouth of your heat, your cunt swallowing him down to the base. The needy roll of your hips into his showed just how desperate you were. He groaned at the start of the friction between you, and slowly dragged back out of you, moving just as slowly back inside. He repeated this twice, and then he let loose. The motion turned into a needy clash of his hips to yours. Again. Again. Again. Somewhere along the sting of passion and heat, his hand wrapped around your throat, feeling the flex of it as you swallowed under his palm. He bit down into your neck, reaching out from you as his hips slammed erratically. His heavy balls slapping against your ass with each rut forward of his unrelenting. The way he fucked you, was like holding a knife to your throat. It grounded you in the most harrowing way to each of his breaths. His panting in your ear. It swallowed you whole. Mad your legs wrap around his waist and your hips keen up into him.

Your cunt drooled down his shaft, down to the base, down the sensitive skin of his cock. He growled and hissed in your ear, teeth closing around your earlobe, his hand dragging back up and grip tightening around your neck. Getting off on the feeling of your pulse under his thumb.

You felt the knot tighten. And tighten. Right in the pit of your stomach, deep in your sopping wet cunt where the mouth of your cervix met his fucking. The walls of your cunt sucking him back in as the angle of his hips snapped up into the spot that had you seeing entire constellations. They darted to and fro across your vision. It blurred the edge, spots of dark matter, deep black, the colour of oblivion slinging over the back of your eyes that now burned with tears of pleasure. His fingers dug deeper into malleable flesh, gripped tightly at your hip with his free hand, thumb brushing over your hip bone down your mound to toy with your clit after a slap to it. And it was the action that sent you spiralling, babbling his name nonsensically among a string of curse words. So pretty and fucked out beneath him. Joel couldn’t help but stare smugly as your eyes rolled back into your head when your orgasm hit like a freight train. He came undone soon after, his climax hitting a crescendo with a growl bitten into your shoulder, bruising and brandishing you with his mark again.

He pulled back, leaving you to the mercy of the cold. Watching was his hips moved again to fuck his release back into you. Your hole quivered in protest, and you squirmed under him. “Don’t be fucking ungreatful now, Cherub.” You relented, going still and boneless on the mattress. Limbs unfurling from their tension. “That's it. Take it. Take it all.” He groaned smoothly. Just like the roll of his hips. He fucked it slowly back into you. And you took his release inside you to keep. “Good girl, Cherub.” He whispered, kissing your lips in a tender dichotomy. Not letting you rest until he was satisfied you took every drop of him. Afterall, it was all you’d have left of him until he next chose to pick you up. All the while, he trailed his tongue back down to your breasts, pressing the flat of it to your nipple, drawing it with a sharp suck into his mouth. Pressing the blunt of his teeth into your flesh. Letting the taste melt on his tongue. Salty with your sweat. He did the same to the others. When he went soft inside of you, and his hips stilled. He slipped out of you with hitched breath, the pad of his fingertips tracing your abused, used sex. Your legs twitching when he rolled your clit under two fingers. “I said stop squirming.” He grunted, landing another slap to your pussy. It made an obscene wet sound. His come dribbling out slowly.

“Open your mouth.” Joel commanded, and you did. Waiting for whatever he had planned. He licked a hot strip from your asshole to your cunt, pressing his tongue in to drag out some of his release. And he climbed back up to spit it into your mouth. A hand clamping down on your jaw. “Don’t swallow. Close your mouth.” And you did with the side of his thumb clamping it shut for you. “Taste that?” You nodded in response. It was hot, heavy and thick and salty to taste. Divine. “Show me.” You opened again, his creamy spend diluted amongst your saliva and he smirked. Clamping your jaw shut again. “Swallow.”

Joel watched in open mouthed amusement as the delicate column of your throat rippled under muscle contract. “Good girl, Cherub. Remember that taste next time y’feel like leaving again.” He warned in a growl. And you nodded, swallowing your pride. Your fear. Your mania aiding in shoving it down your throat to dissolve in acid. Once again you were in those deep dark woods. The one where the wolf lay. Remnants of you in his teeth. The willow is still weeping, slashed in half. The axe free of his bloodshed by the entrance of his den. The owls' eyes still lit the scene of sin where overhead the starlight was snuffed out by the tangle of branches thick in their black greenery.

You never got your money back. Maybe one day you'd get out of this town. But the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering. Even angels can’t resist a slice of that heaven. Fallen angel. Wounded bitch. Cherub.

[loopy777]

Any thoughts on new Kiyi, Mai, and Zuko centered comic?

"An all-new stand-alone Avatar graphic novel! Kiyi, half-sister to Fire Lord Zuko, enrolls at the Royal Fire Academy for Girls! Known for its strict curriculum and even stricter instructors, Zuko worries for Kiyi."

When things take a turn for the worse and a seed of doubt about the new headmistress is planted, Zuko takes action by installing one of the people he trusts most, Mai, as an academy teacher. Can Mai keep a watchful eye over Kiyi and keep her on the right path, or will the academy’s cruel culture shape her footsteps into those of her other half-sibling, Azula?"

I'm looking forward to this one! As an active member of the Maiko Support Community, I'm of course happy to see Mai back in the storyline with a setup that could lead to finally resolving this Breakup plotline. I'm also just so happy that this is coming out in March 2025, so I might be able to actually make a progress report on my Maiko Timeline next time! XD

I think Hicks has the pacing and storytelling skills to give Mai some decent focus even if Kiyi is the main character. The recent Iroh&June comic showcases it, even if I don't think that one brought all its themes together. Fortunately, fixing Mai's problems with Zuko isn't as thorny as the morality of Iroh's life, and there are any number of good short fanfics which manage it quite well. @privatefire has one I really like that's only 18k words, and if a picture is, as they say, worth a thousand words, then something similar would require only 18 panels at minimum. XD I even wrote one in 19k words which had room left over for an Assassination subplot and a secondary romantic couple.

I've never been enthusiastic about Kiyi, but of course I'm not a fan of Gene Yang's Avatar writing at all, so it's possible Faith Erin Hicks will make me like the character. I'm also interested in a good look at the Girls Academy, as we've gotten some interesting hints about the nature of the place in the Kyoshi novels- and at the NYCC panel where they announced this comic, the lead designer on the Avatar RPG talked about how he ran a cool long-term playtesting session set there. I just want to know why we haven't heard about a Boys Academy at all; was Zuko home-schooled? If so, why?

The mention of Azula is interesting, as we've never heard much about her connection to the academy; the cartoon just hinted that it was where she met Mai and Ty Lee. Of course, in the world of fanfic (professional'n'approved-by-Avatar-Studios or otherwise), throwaway references have to become major aspects of character history and worldbuilding, hence why there's apparently no equivalent academy for boys. That said (rather snarkily), I suspect we won't get much about Azula in this comic, perhaps a quick mention about how she thrived in such a harsh environment. I wouldn't mind this new Harsh Headmistress has some memories of Azula, either as her teacher or maybe even a fellow student (upperclassmen?), which could be the impetuous for some change at the Academy.

I'm interested in the idea that Zuko thinks Kiyi could potentially become like Azula, but that's a rather fraught story-path which could either alleviate or exacerbate all the talk about how the point of Kiyi's character is to be The Good Daughter and prove that all Azula's problems are Ozai's fault. Not that Azula's problems don't mostly stem from Ozai, but Kiyi is a rather ham-fisted way of conveying that, and it buries some of the extra nuance of problems with the whole Royal Family and Fire Nation society itself. But the Academy could be a good way of showing some of those societal issues, so this comic might be aiming for a good target.

I also really like the idea of Mai finding a calling as a teacher or similar role-model, giving her a role to play in this generational Redemption Of The Fire Nation. That's actually something I've played with, so I'm delighted at the possibility of seeing it become canon.

So, overall, I'm rather enthusiastic for this comic. Even a girl sitting behind me at the announcement and saying out loud that she never liked Zuko and Mai as a couple could ruin my mood.

[sussex-newswire]

"Predictably, the blind hatred has really ramped up a gear this week thanks to the release of Meghan’s Netflix series With Love, Meghan; an aesthetically beautiful lifestyle show where Meghan shares incredibly attainable tips and tricks for everything to do with hosting. In one episode, she puts together a child-friendly party bag for a pretty garden dinner with her friend Mindy Kaling. In another, she makes natural beeswax candles and a three-tier honey and lemon cake with another pal, makeup artist Daniel Martin.

"Friends are a common theme throughout the eight-episode series, with different guests joining Meghan in the kitchen in each installment, and every time, Meghan is visibly glowing with happiness.

"Despite what the haters may say, Meghan’s authenticity and passion shines through, with the entire show a love letter to her lifestyle roots, which she was already expertly showcasing on The Tig before she was forced to shut it down when she joined the royal family.

"The whole series gives viewers an insight into just how much Meghan is thriving five years after her and Harry’s move to California. In addition to Archie, they have welcomed a daughter together, Princess Lilibet, and live a wholesome life with their beloved pets, growing their own produce in their huge garden full of flowers, fruit trees, and vegetable patches, alongside a chicken coop with chickens they rescued from factory farms, and even their own bee yard where they source fresh honey.

"In addition, Meghan is surrounded by close friends who have had her back through the good times and the bad. With them, she hosts game nights, brunches, and enjoys hikes through stunning Montecito, which she calls home.

"Harry also makes a brief appearance in the final episode of With Love, Meghan, where he is every part the doting husband and clearly bursting with pride as he supports his wife’s new venture.

"And this is just the beginning, with Meghan’s As Ever lifestyle range set to drop in the coming weeks, and her brand new podcast also being teased for release at some point in the near future."

[amor-godess-of-love]

TW: mention of COVID-19

So in regards to my post on crows vs bats war I came up with idea for actual comic regarding it.

It all starts with Bruce sitting alone in batcave with few of his bats sitting on his shoulder. He is concerned, because of recent rumours that started to thrive in public in regards to bats.

Rumours that used bats relation to recent pandemic, about them being carriers of many diseases, of being aggressive to people, of sucking blood..... Are using actual facts about them like fact that they can give rabies to people and pets. All this puts public into state of panic and turns them against bats.

Ofcourse why some are real concerns, but this panic causes people to being actively hostile to bats, destroying they roost and safe places where they can sleep, leaving deadly traps for them, throwing rocks at them. It's all war on bats.

Ofcourse Bruce gets concerned, he makes public appearance where he address people concerns, but also advocates for bats, specially that they are protected species. He also start program to build safe places for bats to sleep in.

Even with Bruce speech, all laws regarding protection of bats and all city officials trying to stop a panic, they are still unease in regard to bats.

That unease soon moves to Batman himself. After all, Batman is not only themed after them, but I can imagine public seeing him use bats few times during his years of protecting the city. So ofcourse rumours start about Batman being possible carrier of diseases. Some people become afraid of him. This forced Batman to seek root of all this rumours.

And ofcourse who else but Scarecrow is source of most of them.

But to Bruce suprise when he questions Jonathan, turn out his motivation wasn't actually to hurt him or his imigine in any way, in fact he wasn't one to come up with rumours about Batman being potential carrier, he only fuel it. But once he saw the opportunity, he jump right in to turn city into fear driven chaos and used it against Batman. But in fact he started with only wishing to turn public against bats and why?

Because bats were driving out corvids from safe birdhouse he built for them around the city.

To Jonathan this made bats a bullies who were hurting his feather family. So ofcourse he took actions to protect his crows, by turning public against them and driving them away, so his crows could reclaim they homes.

Batman defeats Scarecrow no big suprise there and delivers him back to Arkham, but before he lock him up he ask Jonathan for location of all birdhouses he builded...

Bruce takes this matter seriously. He continues his project of building houses for bats, but this time making sure there are no birdhouse in area. He even makes special devices that scare off bats, while not doing them any harm and install them on birdhouse. This way, bird have they safe places to nest, while bats get safe places to sleep.

And Scarecrow reaction to all the aftermath? He is actually delighted as he reads about it in the newspaper at Arkham. Because all he wanted in that situations was for his beloved friends to be safe. Now not only they homes are safe, but Wayne foundation will provide free presentation on corvids and bats living in Gotham and how to coexist with them.

I want the comic to end up on shot of both Jonathan at Arkham courtyard and Bruce in his cave petting they respective animals.

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

I really would like this kind of story, I want to see Batman being worried for his flying friends. That also would show his Bruce Wayne persona and how he helps city.

But also I think it could be good Scarecrow story. Because instead of just using fear toxin, he would use his knowledge on fear to cause mass hysteria around public, using real worries to stir it against target of his choosing. But also I think it would show bit of his character. Because why yes, he used his plan to causes fear and hurt Batman.... It all started with him wanting to protect crows he sees as his family, from what he sees as "bullies" that attack them for no reason. Was there better way to do it? Yes, but it's Jonathan Crane his way of dealing with bullies is to use fear against them...

But that's just my silly creative idea in the end ^^

"Batman: The sinister stalking crow"

Would actually be a good title for that comic @jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear if you don't mind me using that idea

[meltotheany]

Goodreads | Amazon US | B&N | Blackwell’s | Bookshop ♡ thank you so much, del rey, for sending me a finished copy! 1.) The Tainted Cup ★★★★★ “The ocean cannot tell the difference between a rich man and a poor one, nor one full of happiness, or despair. To those waves, all are so terribly small.” the tainted cup was my favorite publication of 2024, so i was beyond elated when this book showed up on my doorstep in 2025! and opening this book, and instantly being back with din and ana, just reminded me how beloved this book series already is to me and how it is probably my most anticipated current ongoing series. i know, right? a lot of praise, but it really is from my heart. the very basic premise of what this series is doing is that it is a genre blend of fantasy and mystery, where we follow two character, din and ana, who are very coded as sherlock and watson, while they try to solve murder mysteries in what very much feels like an attack on titan world, filled with walls and leviathans that attack those walls. yet, also in this world, people have medical augmentations that allow them to enhance themselves, with abilities to do things better, but at a cost. and in this second installment, we really get to see that cost with classes in this world. in this book, din and ana are visiting a town in the middle of trade negotiations, called yarrowdale, which is a port town, and it feels a little extra scary when the wet season is approaching and when leviathans attack walls in this world! but this town hasn’t experienced an attack in living memory, and they also have something called the shroud, which is a leviathan graveyard with a lot of mystery behind it. and maybe some more mystery will be added to it, because this story starts with dinios kol, an altered mind rememberer, traveling to this town to meet an officer and to see what is left of a body. and one moldy tower room later, ana dolabra comes to hopefully solve another case with din, and in a new city, where body parts are continuing to be found. this series really feels like a breath of fresh air for both of its blended genres and it really feels like magic to read. din and ana’s relationship really just means the whole world to me, and seeing them both trust more, listen more, and even love more is just so beautiful. am i crying over a scarf? yes!! also, malo is such an amazing side character, who i was feeling all the emotions constantly for. i really hope we get to see them again in more stories. but yeah, the characters, the story, the writing, the messages, the mystery, it’s really all so top notch and i just really recommend this series to everyone who has even somewhat similar reading tastes to me. other random things i loved about this story: din is for sure pan or bi and we just really love to see it, always. i also always will love an unsettling castle setting. i was obsessed with how we got more backstory in this second installment, and seeing more of these character’s pasts and how they are choosing to live in the present. i love the constant theme of patterns and how they are all around us, for better or worse, if we really begin to look. i love that this book looked at debt and the systems that want to keep people down and at the mercy of their leaders. and i very much love to appreciate the discussions around the corruption of government and how those in power are more than willing to treat the citizens they view as lesser, regardless of any and all costs. i truly love everything about this series, but i do feel like no one, and i mean no one, is writing author notes the way robert jackon bennet is writing author notes. both books in this series have heavily discussed classism, capitalism, and which groups of people thrive, and die, because of these things. But this author’s note, the final thing the reader is left with upon closing this book, really emphasizes how fantasy stories have treated autocracies. how such a majority of stories are written about one true heir, who is divine, and righteous, and des...

[heydoaflip]

Enter Sandman: Say your prayers (prologue)

Summary: Gotham City is a place defined by shadows, where fear thrives as both a weapon and a survival instinct. Daphne, a psychology prodigy, is determined to rewrite the narrative by reframing fear as a tool for change. Balancing a grueling café job and the weight of her ambitious thesis, she navigates the city’s relentless chaos while unknowingly drawing the attention of someone who understands fear all too well. Warnings: Themes of Fear and Violence, Assault/Robbery, Mentions of Criminal Behavior, Attempt of Sexual Assault Word count: 8K series: [0], [1] series masterlist.

The faint hum of Gotham City's rain pressed against the windows as Daphne sat at her desk, the cursor blinking on her laptop screen. The submission portal glowed faintly, and for a moment, her finger hovered over the trackpad. Once she clicked, there was no going back—not from the months of research, not from the weight of expectations, nor from the silent promise she had made to herself.

“Do better than they did.”

She pressed submit.

The rain had always been Gotham’s lullaby, drowning out the city's persistent chaos. Alfred once told her it wasn’t always this way, though the wistfulness in his voice made her wonder if he even believed that anymore. Perhaps, Gotham had always been a city that was sick, which had shown its symptoms more and more as the years passed.

A confirmation popped up on the screen—simple, impersonal. Months of preparation distilled into one fleeting moment.

The desk was a chaotic sprawl of books and files, their spines bent and pages scribbled with her handwritten notes. Near the edge, a printed sheet lay prominently, bearing the proposal title in bold: “The Psychology of Fear as a Tool for Criminal Rehabilitation: Breaking the Cycle in Gotham.” Other sheets with near-identical titles were scattered across the surface—older drafts she had painstakingly revised over the past year, each one a step closer to what she hoped would be the perfect submission.

A soft knock on the door broke her focus.

“Who is it?” Daphne called out, her voice carrying easily in the small apartment.

“I brought you some clothes I found back at the mansion,” Alfred’s words made her freeze for a moment before she rushed to the door.

The faint buzz of the city’s rain seemed to seep through every crack in her apartment. The walls, faded with age and damp patches, carried a scent of old plaster, the kind that seemed to hold the weight of too many Gotham winters. The space was small, functional—her refuge in a city that didn’t grant peace easily.

She walked toward the door, her socks brushing against the worn wooden floorboards, passing by her cluttered counter. Stacks of dishes sat untouched in the sink, a pile of unopened mail leaned precariously near the edge. Three locks lined the door—each mismatched, hastily installed after moving in.

Her fingers flicked them open one by one.

Alfred stood there in his overcoat, umbrella dripping rain onto her doormat. His expression carried its usual calm, though his eyes were always watchful. In his hand was a paper bag with neatly folded clothes, and for a moment, the gesture felt too generous.

“This is hardly an improvement from your university dormitories,” he remarked lightly, stepping inside.

The young woman caught the way his eyes scanned the room, his practiced gaze noting every crack in the plaster and the threadbare rug that barely covered the uneven floorboards. The apartment wasn’t much—one of many cramped spaces crammed into a brick building that loomed over the streets of Gotham.

“It’s mine,” she replied with a small shrug, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not complaining.”

Only to her landlord, she thought bitterly. She still bristled at the memory of how much she'd been charged just to get those extra locks installed.

Alfred’s brow quirked slightly as he set the bag on her sagging couch, which let out a faint groan under the weight. It for sure had seen better days, but it had the job done.

“And you still refuse to accept help from Mr. Wayne?”

Daphne felt the familiar ache of frustration settle deep in her chest as she held Alfred’s gaze. The question was always the same, always posed with that careful, knowing look he had perfected over the years. Bruce had asked it too, often in this very apartment, but in a way that never quite made her feel any less like a child in need of saving.

It wasn’t their concern that bothered her—it was the constant reminder of how much she had leaned on them when she first came back to Gotham. Less than a year ago, she had been a shell of the woman she had been, trying to pick up the pieces of her life as she tried to figure out what she really wanted.

At first, the Wayne estate had felt like an escape. It was large, warm, and undeniably comfortable. But as the days turned to weeks, the comfort felt more like a gilded cage.

Staying with them, even for that short time, had been a quiet admission of failure. She had always prided herself on being independent, on making it on her own—yet there she was, tucked away in a mansion that might as well have been a reminder of everything she hadn’t achieved.

It hadn’t been a choice, at least not one she had made lightly. But it had been necessary. She didn’t want to admit it, but without their help, she might not have made it back on her feet.

But that was behind her now. She had her own place—small, cramped, full of leaks and cracks, but it was hers. The locks on the door were a mark of her hard-won independence, a tangible step away from the suffocating generosity of Bruce and Alfred. Yet, every time Alfred reminded her of that time, the sting of reliance dug deeper..

“I’m managing just fine,” she muttered, wiping her hands on her jeans and looking away, as though the act itself could make her feel less burdened by it all. But it was never that simple.

The apartment told another story, its faded wallpaper peeling at the edges, the radiator rattling faintly as it struggled to keep the place warm. She hated how much she’d had to rely on their generosity—hated even more the thought that they might still see her as a burden. Moving out had been her first step toward independence, even if it landed her here.

“Managing,” Alfred repeated, the faintest hint of skepticism in his tone. He removed his coat, folding it neatly over the back of her chair, and surveyed her space with the kind of scrutiny that made her self-conscious, “You’re still working at that café?”

Daphne stiffened at Alfred’s words. The question was like a needle, sharp and pointed, a reminder of how much she had yet to build on her own. Working at the café was a means to an end, a way to pay the bills and feel like she was contributing to something. But it wasn’t enough—not in the way that she wanted.

“Yes,” she replied, a little too quickly. “It’s enough for now.”

It wasn’t, not really. Her job at the local coffee shop barely covered rent, and she had been forced to stretch every dollar to keep the lights on. But it was hers—her job, her apartment, her struggle.

That mattered more than anything Alfred or Bruce could offer.

“You’re far too talented to be slinging coffee,” Alfred said, his voice warm but firm. “How is your research at least? Did you finish the submission?”

“Yes, I finished it,” Daphne replied, her voice tight.

She had spent months crafting the proposal, researching, writing, revising—it was all she had, and now it was out of her hands. The uncertainty of it lingered, gnawing at her insides like a constant hum. But the submission was done. She had pushed through, made something tangible, something that might make a difference.

That had to be enough, right?

At least, the question about her research was safer territory than the one about her job. She’d put months of effort into the proposal, pouring over every detail. But the idea that it might not be enough still hung in the air like a threat.

“And you submitted it?” Alfred’s voice was softer now, tinged with concern, but still holding that undercurrent of disapproval.

Yet, he wouldn’t forget their previous subject.

“I have,” she answered firmly, though she knew she couldn’t shake the unease that gnawed at her. “They’ll probably think it’s ridiculous.”

Alfred tilted his head, considering her words for a moment, “And do you?”

Daphne’s lips twisted into a faint, fleeting smile, a gesture that barely touched the edges of her eyes. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed tightly. “Of course not. But I don’t think they’ll say yes, either.”

The air between them thickened, unspoken tensions crackling in the silence. It was a feeling she’d come to know too well over the past few weeks—the weight of uncertainty, the quiet dread of failure, of risking it all and watching it crumble. She was a master at imagining every possible way things could fall apart.

But today, for the first time in ages, Daphne pushed those thoughts aside. For months, she’d lay awake, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing with ideas and doubts, trying to cobble together something that mattered. She needed a purpose, something beyond the endless cycle of survival. She wanted to leave a mark, to help the people she couldn’t reach, to create something—anything—that meant more than the endless grind.

It took time, but she found it, this fragile thread of a goal. The culmination of sleepless nights and quiet desperation, now distilled into a single moment—the click of a ‘Submit’ button.

And now, all she could do was wait. And hope.

“Fear as a tool for rehabilitation,” Alfred mused, already heading to her little kitchen—or what he assumed was a kitchen.

It had a fridge, an oven, a stove, and a sink. Technically, it was a kitchen.

“Yes?” Daphne furrowed her brows, following him. She didn’t need to ask what he was doing; she already suspected.

Tea. Typical Alfred.

“Ambitious,” he said, shrugging as he pulled out a battered kettle, filling it with water from the tap.

The faucet groaned before sputtering out a stream of rusty water that quickly cleared. Alfred set the kettle on the stove, his hands deftly moving through the small space with practiced ease.

Daphne crossed her arms, leaning against the doorway as she watched him, “Reckless,” she corrected, though her tone lacked conviction.

He raised an eyebrow, glancing back at her, “Reckless?”

Alfred studied her expression, his gaze softening slightly as he reached into the paper bag he’d brought. He pulled out a small tin of loose-leaf tea, placing it gently on her counter. “I’ve seen my fair share of recklessness in Gotham. This”—he gestured toward her, the faintest smile tugging at his lips—“doesn’t fit the bill.”

Her lips curved into a small smile, grateful for the change in subject. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, her voice softening.

Alfred nodded, a touch of warmth in his eyes.

“You should. From what I’ve observed, true recklessness is rarely paired with purpose. And you, Daph,” he continued, setting a cup on the counter for her, “Have plenty of that.”

She couldn’t hide the relief that crept in, a welcome distraction from the looming uncertainties.

“I suppose I should thank you, then,” she replied, her smile growing a little wider. “You know, I’d much rather talk about Gotham’s criminal psychology than… My café job.”

Alfred’s gaze softened as he poured the water, waiting for the kettle to warm on the feeble flame of her stove. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, studying her.

“The café job doesn’t define you,” he said gently, as if it were the simplest truth. “Nor does it diminish what you’re aiming to accomplish here. If anything, I think it’s a testament to your resilience. I’m sorry if my words made you think otherwise.”

Daphne blinked, his words settling into her like warmth on a cold day. She straightened, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, unsure of how to respond to the rare show of understanding. Alfred had a way of seeing through her defenses, always finding the smallest cracks to slip a bit of encouragement through, even when she wasn’t sure she wanted it.

“It's okay, Alfred, thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a murmur.

He offered a slight nod, an unspoken acknowledgment that he understood her gratitude ran deeper than the simple words could convey. He placed the steaming cup of tea in her hands, letting her wrap her fingers around its warmth as if to ground her.

“You’re allowed to lean on others sometimes,” he reminded her softly. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, especially not to Bruce or me.”

You’re not a burden, she knew that was what he wanted to say.

Daphne’s gaze dropped, her fingers tracing an absent pattern on the worn countertop. The weight of Alfred’s words brushed against a raw place inside her, one she tried to keep carefully hidden.

Beneath the tough veneer she wore, there was always that shadow—constantly doubting her, luring her to believe she was doing the wrong calls.

However, she wanted to be more than the girl who leans on others to sustain her ground, more than the broken person she’d been when she left Gotham and came back.

“I just don’t want to be another person Gotham has to save,” she admitted quietly, taking a sip.

Alfred’s eyes found hers, a trace of reluctance in his gaze.

“Gotham doesn’t save anyone, not truly. People save each other, and they save themselves. And despite not approving of your chosen field, I can’t deny the purpose behind it.” He paused, as though weighing his next words carefully, “Fear is a weapon in Gotham, a path to subduing others to your own way.”

The woman stared into her tea, her fingers clutching the cup tightly. He always knew what to say, even when she didn’t want to hear it. The Psychology of Fear as a Tool for Criminal Rehabilitation. It was a mouthful, but to her, it was more than a thesis—it was a chance to confront the city that seemed to revel in testing her limits.

“But,” Alfred interrupted her thoughts, her eyes gluing back at him, “I know you. And despite disapproving, I know you are capable of doing whatever it gets into your head.”

You had heard that before. But, she couldn’t deny it, she wasn’t the kind of person that gave up easily. When an idea got inside her head, it was difficult to kick it out, she would go with it until the end.

Despite the self-doubting, it came with the combo.

“You think I’m on the wrong path?” she asked quietly, fingers tightened around the cup.

“No,” Alfred sighed, a smile creeping out of his teeth, his hand resting above one of her shoulders, reassuring her, “I think you have courage to face the darkness and still, find light beyond it. That says more about you than any degree or job ever could.”

Her chest tightened at his words, a rush of emotions she hadn’t expected flooding her. She wanted to argue, to brush it off as flattery, but deep down, a part of her longed to believe it. That maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as lost as she sometimes felt.

She gave a soft, humorless laugh.

“Courage, huh?” she said, meeting his gaze with a weary smile. “Some days, it just feels like stubbornness. Like I’m holding on because I don’t know how to let go.”

Alfred shook his head, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, you are stubborn, no doubt about that. But it’s a good kind of stubborn.”

Daphne scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You really know how to flatter a woman, Alfred,” she teased. “But… Thank you. I needed that.”

“Anytime,” he said with a slight nod. Then, his gaze grew a touch more serious. “Now, aside from the job and this PhD, what’s been keeping you too occupied to visit me and Bruce more often?”

It seemed like her conversation with Alfred would last longer than she had first thought.

A few days later, the café buzzed with the steady hum of quiet conversation, clinking ceramic mugs, and the hiss of the espresso machine.

Daphne moved behind the counter with mechanical precision, her apron tied loosely around her waist. The late afternoon light filtered through the café’s grime-covered windows, casting long, slanted beams onto the tables.

“Black coffee, one sugar,” she called out as she slid a cup onto the counter, her mind barely registering the faces on the other side. Her shifts had become a blur of repetition—orders, cleaning, a polite smile here and there.

It paid the bills… Barely.

“Daphne, table six is asking for more cream,” one of her coworkers, Clara, said as she passed by with a tray.

She was a pretty woman, one of the waitresses that customers wanted to tend to them more than the others. There were no stereotypical features like blue eyes, blonde hair and white skin—but her confidence and bright smile on her face made any man entering that café fall in love with her.

Clara worked the busier morning shifts, but she often stayed late when the evenings got slow—usually the time where men suddenly would pop inside the café. And, despite any odds, the woman had become one of the few people Daphne tolerated chatting with during breaks.  

“Got it,” Daphne replied, grabbing a small pitcher from under the counter and making her way to the corner of the café.  

The table in question was occupied by a man in a threadbare coat, his expression tired, eyes scanning a newspaper with a sense of resigned boredom. He barely looked up as she refilled the cream.  

One more day.

As she turned to head back to the counter, Clara intercepted her.

“You’ve been quiet today,” she said, balancing her tray on one hand. “Something on your mind?”  

Daphne sighed, glancing toward the clock. “Nothing new,” she lied, though the weight of the last few days—the waiting, the anticipation—clung to her like the city’s smog.  

Clara raised an eyebrow she could tell you were lying. In your defense, you were too anxious and tired to try to fake anything.

“Well, I’m about to take my break,” She smiled at Daphne, “You?”

She hesitated before nodding, “Yeah, sure.”  

There was no escaping Clara's curiosity and observant demeanor. Perhaps, that was why they had become friends.

The two women found a quiet corner of the café near the back. Clara pulled out a bag of chips from her pocket, while Daphne settled for her lukewarm cup of coffee, staring at it as though it held answers.  

Of course, it didn't. The cup didn't magically tell her if her thesis was accepted or declined.

“So,” Clara began between bites, “what’s the deal with that thesis of yours? Are you still waiting?”  

Daphne nodded slowly, “Yeah. The committee’s probably ripping it apart as we speak.”  

“Or they’re impressed and trying to figure out how to approve it without admitting you’re smarter than they are,” Clara quipped, earning a faint smirk from Daphne.

“It’s Gotham,” Daphne said. “People don’t exactly bet on rehabilitation around here. Even worse: rehabilitation of criminals into society.”  

Clara leaned forward, her expression turning serious, “But that’s the point of your thesis, right? To flip that script?”  

She didn't exactly know what Daphne’s thesis was. They had talked about it, but the woman never had the time to tell her friend everything about it, just the sum up.

“That’s the idea. But… Gotham’s history isn’t exactly full of success stories when it comes to trying to fix it.”

Clara shrugged, leaning back in her chair, “But you’re not trying to fix the whole city. Just... One piece of it.”  

One piece.

It wasn’t about fixing Gotham all at once. It never had been. It was about finding one thread, pulling it, and hoping it unraveled something bigger.

“One piece,” Smiling, Daphne nodded, it was genuinely nice to have someone like Clara to talk about it.

Despite Bruce and Alfred, she was the only one Daphne could feel like she wasn't rambling.

She looked down at her cup, watching the last swirl of her coffee settle. The café had mostly emptied out, and only a few tables remained occupied, scattered patrons lost in their own worlds. The low hum of conversation had quieted to a faint murmur beneath the clinking of mugs and the occasional scrape of a chair. 

"So, you really believe fear can be used to help those criminals?” Clara asked, tilting her head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. There was a curiosity in her gaze—one that Daphne was used to seeing, even from those who knew her well.

Clara was too curious. Too much for her own good.

Once, her friend told her about how it was for her two years ago, when Riddler’s events happened. She was hiperfixed about the whole scheme—she didn't agree with the guy, of course, but she was curious to understand what was happening and why.

That curiosity led her to the man’s crazy website.

That was Clara’s curiosity. Daphne feared for the day the guy would be out of Arkham. That day would never come, but you never know.

“I do,” Back to the present, Daphne nodded, “Fear is powerful—Gotham’s proof of that. But it doesn’t have to be just something that paralyzes people, makes them feel powerless and do the unthinkable.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “It’s part of us for a reason. Maybe, if we could harness it in the right way, it could actually help people.”

Clara’s brow furrowed, and she took a sip of her own drink, mulling over Daphne’s words, “And you think Gotham’s the place to try something like that? With Arkham’s criminals?”

Daphne shrugged, smiling faintly, “Where better?”

Clara broke into a small chuckle, shaking her head.

“I’m not doubting you, if anyone could pull it off, it’s you,” she said, her tone teasing yet warm. “But just... Be careful with this, okay? In case it goes forward? Which I know it will… You know how Gotham can be.”

Much more than she wished to.

Daphne’s smile softened, but she nodded, a quiet determination in her expression.

“I will. But if I don’t at least try, then what’s the point?”

Clara tilted her head, studying Daphne as if trying to piece together the puzzle, “You really think you can help those people? Give them their humanity back?”

Daphne hesitated, the weight of the question settling between them.

“I think it’s worth trying,” she said at last, her voice quieter but steady, “If I don’t, who will?”

Clara sighed, breaking Daphne’s train of thought, “You know, you make it sound like you’re planning to save the whole city.”

“I’m not trying to save the city,” Daphne replied, her tone firm. “I just want to prove that it’s possible to change the narrative. Fear doesn’t have to be a weapon.”

Clara let the words hang in the air, her expression unreadable. Finally, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. 

“You know what I think?” she said, a hint of mischief in her tone.

“What’s that?” Daphne asked, arching a brow.

“I think you’ve been working here too long. You’ve started seeing Gotham through those grimy windows instead of from the outside.” Clara gestured toward the rain-streaked glass. “You’re looking at the world like a story that needs fixing. Maybe you just need to focus on your own chapter for a bit.”

Daphne laughed softly, though the words struck a little too close to home, “You think I’ve been staring at Gotham too long?”

Clara shrugged, her expression softening, “I think you’re trying to take on a lot. Just... Remember to leave some room for yourself in all of this, okay?”

Daphne chuckled again at Clara’s advice, though she felt the truth of it settle uncomfortably in her chest.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, the words polite.

Clara leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

“Oh, you’ll keep it in mind, huh? You can start by coming to my birthday party next week.”

Daphne froze for a moment, her hand tightening slightly on the handle of her mug.

“Clara—”

“Don’t you ‘Clara’ me,” her friend interrupted, raising a finger in mock warning, “You’ve been dodging me every time I bring it up, so don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Daphne glanced around the room, her gaze sweeping over the tables. Most of the customers had left, and the dim lighting made the space feel smaller, cozier. She rubbed at her temple absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting back to the conversation with Clara days ago.

The party.

Daphne didn’t hate the idea of going; she just didn’t feel like she belonged in a room full of people celebrating. Parties felt like a reminder of how detached she’d become from the easy, social version of herself.

Before Riddler’s crimes. Before the café. Before this relentless need to prove something.

“I wasn’t dodging,” Daphne began, though even she didn’t believe it. “I just—” She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I’m not really a party person. You know that.”

“And that’s exactly why you need to come,” Clara countered, her tone light but persistent. “You’ve been so wrapped up in this thesis and the café that I don’t think you’ve done anything remotely fun in months. And before you say it, no, researching your thesis doesn’t count.”

Daphne tried to hold back a laugh but failed, the sound escaping despite herself.

“Fine, I’ll think about it.”

“You can think about it all you want,” Clara said with a grin. “Just make sure you show up.”

Daphne shook her head, smiling faintly as she drained the last of her coffee. The conversation drifted after that, Clara turning her attention to a story about a rude customer from her morning shift. Daphne listened absently, her thoughts still lingering on Clara’s words—and the subtle prickle of unease she couldn’t quite shake.

In the shadowed corner of the café, the man in the dark coat rose from his seat, moving with quiet precision. He left his table as unobtrusively as he had occupied it, his departure unnoticed by the women whose conversation had held his interest. The soft chime of the doorbell as it swung shut was barely a whisper over the low hum of the espresso machine.

Daphne glanced briefly at the sound, but her gaze didn’t linger. She turned back to Clara, the conversation pulling her back to the moment.

Outside, the rain fell steadily, the streets of Gotham swallowing the figure as he walked away, his thoughts undoubtedly tangled with what he had overheard.

After her shift, Daphne untied her apron, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over her. She gathered her things slowly, savoring the last moments in the warmth of the café before stepping out into the wet Gotham night.

Clara caught up with her just as she was heading for the door, her expression softened with concern.

“Hey, it’s dark out and pouring,” Clara said, dangling her keys in a casual gesture. “Let me give you a ride? It’s really no trouble.”

Daphne hesitated, feeling the familiar knot of reluctance tighten in her chest. She gave Clara a reassuring smile, hoping it looked more confident than she felt.

“I appreciate it, but it’s really fine. I’m only a few blocks away,” she said, trying to sound casual. The last thing she wanted was to impose, even on something as small as a ride, “And I need some time alone to think.” Or overthink.

Clara studied her for a moment, clearly unconvinced, but nodded anyway.

“Alright,” she conceded, though her tone held a hint of exasperation. “One day, I’ll make you accept, you do know that, right?”

Daphne laughed, a light sound that felt hollow as she stepped into the damp air. She waved to Clara, promising she’d be fine. As the café door swung shut behind her, she took a breath, the cold air pressing against her skin like a warning.

The streets were nearly deserted, the usual hum of life reduced to a murmur beneath the steady drizzle. Daphne hunched into her coat, focusing on her steps as she began her walk home, her boots tapping softly on the slick pavement. A flicker of movement caught her eye in a storefront reflection—a shape she couldn’t quite make out. She kept her gaze forward, but her heart gave a nervous flutter.

Gotham was always full of shadows, and tonight was no different. Still, she quickened her pace, keeping her steps steady but sharp. The sensation grew stronger, a crawling awareness prickling the back of her neck. Every few yards, she cast a glance over her shoulder, but the street behind her was empty, the glow from streetlights glinting off puddles and pavement.

For a brief moment, she thought of Clara’s offer for a ride. Perhaps she should have accepted, but it was too late for that now. And besides, she hadn’t lied when she’d said she needed to think.

Her mind slipped back to the proposal she’d finally submitted, the product of countless sleepless nights and long hours spent gathering every piece of research she could find. She’d told herself that it was enough, that her work was solid, but the uncertainty gnawed at her, a constant hum beneath her thoughts.

What would the university board think? Daphne couldn’t stop herself from spiraling over the thought, her mind returning to it no matter how much she tried to stay focused on the street ahead. She knew, deep down, that her thesis had substance. It was thorough, it had potential; she’d poured herself into every word, spent endless hours mapping it out and shaping it into something meaningful.

But it was ambitious. And perhaps reckless. Who in Gotham would stop for even a moment to consider it? Fear was woven into the very fabric of this city; to suggest that it could be harnessed, even diminished, was a bold proposition, one that would likely be met with skepticism at best—and outright dismissal at worst.

Alfred had said it was purposeful, that purpose was what truly mattered, that a thesis with real weight could make a difference. And yet, even if he hadn’t voiced it outright, she had seen it in his eyes, in the subtle way his gaze lingered on her: apprehension. Perhaps he understood all too well why she’d chosen this path, why her focus had latched onto fear, on its power, and the allure it held for Gotham’s most dangerous minds.

She couldn’t blame him for being worried. There were moments when, despite her conviction, even she wondered about what had led her to this topic.

Was it selfish? This drive to study fear so deeply, to transform it into something that might help others, knowing all the while what had sparked the idea? Daphne stopped herself from going further, pushing the thought back down as she forced her gaze forward.

The quiet around her felt thicker now, more oppressive. She clutched her coat a bit tighter, her steps quickening as her thoughts returned to the shadowed streets and the prickling awareness that refused to leave her.

A sound—soft, almost lost in the drizzle, like the faintest echo of her own steps. Another pair of footsteps, trailing just far enough behind that she couldn’t pinpoint when they’d started.

How long had she been followed?

Her throat tightened, and she quickened her pace, her fingers gripping around the strap of her purse until her knuckles whitened.

Don’t turn around, she told herself. Don’t look. Just keep moving.

She took a sharp turn down a side street, forcing herself to breathe, to rationalize. It was only the late hour, only the eerie quiet of Gotham that always felt just a little too still. But the nagging feeling wouldn’t fade, the sense of being watched settling deeper into her skin.

A scrape—a muffled, deliberate sound too close to ignore—reached her ears as she passed a darkened alleyway. She froze for half a second, her heart leaping into her throat before she forced herself forward, her steps now brisk, almost a jog. Her pulse raced as her mind scanned the quickest route through the maze of streets, hoping to lose whoever was pacing her from the shadows.

This wasn’t her imagination; it wasn’t just the chill in the air. Someone was following her.

For a second, she considered taking her phone out of the bag and calling Alfred or Bruce, but that could be a lot worse. What if he acted quicker and cornered her even faster?

Her breath quickened as she rounded a corner, darting down another narrow street, hoping the twists and turns might shake him. But then she heard it again, closer than before—a measured, quiet step, too deliberate to be anything but pursuit.

Daphne glanced back, pretending to be casual, trying to keep her fear hidden, but there he was—a shadowy figure, keeping pace, his form barely visible in the dim light. She swallowed, her fingers digging into the strap of her purse, her pulse drumming louder as she watched him out of the corner of her eye.

No—he was on her tail. There was no doubt now.

Daphne’s chest felt heavier than before, her mind racing as she calculated the distance to her building. Two more blocks.

If she could reach the main street, she might lose him in the light and the noise, where someone—anyone—might see her. She forced herself to breathe, each step a focused effort, keeping her strides even, steady, though every nerve screamed for her to run.

The footsteps grew louder, sharper, his pace quickening to match her own. And then, in one swift movement, she felt it—

A hand clamping down on her shoulder, rough and unyielding, yanking her back with enough force to throw her off balance. Her heel slipped on the wet pavement, and she stumbled, her heart lurching as she twisted to regain her footing. But before she could steady herself, her back collided with the cold, unforgiving surface of the brick wall behind her.

Pain shot through her shoulder, and she gasped, her hands instinctively flying up to shield herself, her fingers gripping her purse like a lifeline. She struggled to free herself, but his hand pinned her firmly, his fingers digging into her skin, trapping her against the wall.

Her breath hitched, her mind spinning with panic, her pulse thundering in her ears.

No, no, no, no— Suddenly, in a fraction of seconds, Daphne started to regret all her decisions: coming back to Gotham, getting out of Wayne's mansion, moving to her apartment, refusing Clara’s ride…

Why did she always hesitate? Why did she have to constantly think about him when someone asked if she needed something? Why did he still have this effect on her, so guilty when anyone offered her any type of aid?

How could he do it to her while so far away?

Something clattered to the ground beside her, the sharp knock of metal against concrete pulling her back to reality—a reminder of the umbrella she’d been clutching, now useless and out of reach.

Daphne stumbled back, her breath shallow as she tried to pull herself free from the man’s grip. Her heart raced, pounding like a drum in her ears. Instinctively, her gaze flickered upward, searching the sky for a glimpse of the Bat-Signal. Just a light, a sign that Batman was out there, somewhere nearby, watching over Gotham.

But the sky was empty, veiled in thick clouds and city fog, her hope of rescue dissolving as quickly as it had come.

A jolt of panic shot through her, and she fought harder, twisting her shoulder in his grasp. Her assailant only grinned, his fingers digging into her skin with bruising force as he pressed her against the cold brick wall.

“Hand it over,” he hissed, tugging at her purse. “And maybe I’ll let you walk away from this.”

Daphne felt his other hand shift, pressing harder on her shoulder, the pressure sharp, bruising. Her pulse spiked, her mind racing. She tried to reason with herself, tried to convince herself to let go, to hand over the purse if it meant he’d leave her unharmed and end this soon.

God, she only wanted it to end soon. She didn’t need it now, not now.

But her fingers held firm on her purse, her knuckles whitening as she clung to the strap. Despite her begging herself to be rational and hand it over.

She swallowed the urge to resist warring with the instinct to survive, “I... I don’t have much,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she tried to will her fingers to release the bag. “Just let me go.”

The man’s face twisted with a dark amusement, and he reached out, his hand brushing the side of her neck in a way that made her skin crawl.

“You think I care for how much you’ve got in here?” he sneered, tugging at the strap with a sudden, brutal pull that nearly tore it from her hands. “This isn’t a request, sweetheart.”

She tried to let go, but her grip tightened instinctively, her fingers curling around the leather as if it were the last thing tethering her to safety. Her chest tightened as her breath quickened, every nerve in her body screaming to get away, but she couldn't move, couldn’t release her hold.

“Let. Go.” His voice was softer now, dripping with menace as he leaned closer, his hand slipping from her shoulder to her throat, fingers digging into her skin just enough to make her gasp. Her body went rigid, the pressure on her neck forcing her back against the wall, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts as she struggled to break free.

“Take it,” she managed to choke out, her voice breaking. “Please… Just take it.”

Because I don’t think my brain is capable of doing that one thing.

The man tilted his head, his grip loosening just enough for her to take a shallow breath, but his other hand drifted lower, fingers tracing the edge of her coat in a way that made her skin crawl.

“What’s the rush?” he murmured, his tone laced with mockery, savoring her fear. “You wanted a walk, didn’t you? Thought you needed to clear your head?”

Daphne’s pulse thundered in her ears, his words hanging in the air, sharp and cold. She hadn’t told anyone she was walking alone besides Clara. And yet, this stranger had known. Her mind raced, a sickening sense of dread creeping in, weaving between the fear and confusion already clouding her thoughts.

His grip tightened just slightly, pinning her further against the wall, his presence an immovable weight.

“Didn’t seem too interested in your friend’s offer,” he continued, his voice low, dripping with a twisted amusement.

Panic clawed at her, the realization settling.

This man hadn’t just followed her home—he had been watching her, silently observing, for who knew how long. The café, her walk, her conversation with Clara…

Had he been a customer? Had he sat in one of the shadowed booths at the back, quietly taking in every detail of her routine? The thought made her stomach twist, her pulse racing with a fresh wave of horror.

Daphne tried to pull herself free, the instinct to flee overpowering her fear, but his grip on her shoulder tightened once more, a cold, sharp smile curling at the edge of his mouth.

“Now, let’s not make this difficult,” he whispered, leaning in close, his face just inches from hers. His eyes held an intensity that left her breathless, his gaze pressing down with a weight that felt inescapable.

That wasn’t only about the damned purse.

She tried to summon the strength to push back, to twist away, but her willpower crumbled beneath the menace in his stare, each muscle frozen as he slowly withdrew his hand from her shoulder.

Before she could even process the slight shift, she felt it—the cold, sharp press of something at her abdomen. Her heart nearly stopped as she looked down, her breath catching in her throat. The dim light glinted off a knife, its edge pressing into her just enough to let her feel the sting of its presence. She swallowed hard, a tremor running through her, her mind paralyzed with panic.

“There we go,” he murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction as his gaze lingered on her wide eyes. The blade traced along her side, just enough to prick her skin, a thin line of pain spreading beneath her coat, its sharpness slowly making his way down until it reached her jeans.

His smile widened as he leaned in, breath sour against her cheek, his voice a low, taunting whisper, “One wrong move, and it won’t be just a scratch.”

Daphne’s pulse hammered, her chest tight as she clutched her coat with shaking hands, every nerve screaming to get away. But the knife held her rooted, each shallow breath pressing her skin closer to its edge. She tried to speak, to plead again, but her voice caught, barely a whisper escaping her lips.

Her attacker seemed to savor the moment, his grip on the knife tightening, his gaze a twisted, hungry gleam. Daphne’s breath caught, fear thickening her veins like ice as she watched the blade slice slowly through the fabric of her jeans, inching closer to her skin. His eyes locked on hers, waiting, feeding on her terror.

Daphne’s entire body tensed, feeling like a trapped animal, each breath ragged as she tried to cling to any sense of control. Her vision blurred as her attacker’s grin grew wider, his knife teasing against her jeans as if savoring her terror. She felt the cold steel bite gently against her thigh, its slow, deliberate path an excruciating promise of what was to come.

Her heart pounded in her chest, every instinct screaming that she was prey—helpless and cornered. The fear gripped her so tightly that it seeped into her bones, leaving her paralyzed under the weight of his gaze. She could do nothing but watch, every nerve in her body braced for the worst.

Then, in a breathless blur, everything shifted.

A force tore her attacker away, ripping him backward so violently that his knife slipped from his grasp, leaving a sharp, stinging line across Daphne’s thigh. She gasped, stumbling back and pressing her hand to the wound, feeling the warmth of her own blood under her fingers. Her mind reeled, struggling to comprehend what had just happened.

As she blinked through the haze of pain and shock, her focus sharpened on the man now sprawled across the ground, his body twisted in agony, his hands clawing desperately at the pavement. His eyes were wide, his pupils dilated with terror, darting around as though some unseen horror were stalking him from the shadows.

The once-cocky smirk had vanished, replaced by a raw, primal fear that left him almost unrecognizable.

Over him stood a tall, lean figure cloaked in shadows, his posture calm, almost detached. There must have been the source of the terror that filled the eyes of the man that tried to hurt her.

The stranger leaned down, his movements measured, each motion controlled with chilling precision. Without a word, he wrapped his hand around the man’s collar, pulling him up just enough to deliver a blow—a brutal, unrestrained punch that landed with a sickening crunch. Her attacker let out a strangled cry, his head snapping to the side, blood trickling from his mouth as he tried to shield himself.

But the stranger didn’t relent; he drove his knee into the man’s ribs, a crack echoing through the alley as her assailant’s breath came in short, panicked gasps.

“Do you like it?” the stranger murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, yet dripping with menace. “Being the one who’s afraid?”

The man’s eyes went wide, his face twisted with something Daphne had never seen before: pure, unfiltered terror. He clawed at the ground, his fingers bleeding as he tried to scramble back, only to be yanked forward again, forced to face the man now holding him in an iron grip. Daphne’s attacker let out a strangled whimper, his gaze darting around wildly, as if he were seeing horrors beyond her comprehension.

Daphne’s heart pounded as she watched her attacker’s panic mount, his breaths coming in rapid, shallow bursts, his entire body trembling violently. The stranger seemed almost unaffected, his expression impassive, as though this were a clinical exercise, a matter of routine. His hand lingered just above her attacker’s face for a brief moment, and Daphne noticed a faint wisp of mist—barely visible, there and gone so quickly she wondered if she’d imagined it.

The man choked out another strangled cry, his body convulsing as though seized by an invisible force, his mouth opening in a silent scream. Daphne’s stomach twisted as she watched him shrink back, cowering against the wall, his eyes darting wildly as if he were trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t escape.

The stranger finally released him, letting the man slump to the ground, his breaths shallow, his eyes glazed and unfocused. Daphne’s attacker seemed to shrink, curling up against the wall, his face pale and sweat-soaked, his once-menacing demeanor reduced to a terrified, trembling shell.

Then the stranger straightened, his attention shifting toward her, and Daphne felt her breath catch. His gaze was steady, unflinching, and his eyes held a dark, clinical curiosity that left her feeling as exposed as her attacker now looked.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice disturbingly calm, as if he hadn’t just reduced a man to a quivering mess.

Daphne could only nod, her throat tight, her mind struggling to process the scene before her. She wanted to look away from him, her instincts screaming that something wasn’t right, but she felt paralyzed under his gaze, as if he were studying her, dissecting her reaction with chilling precision.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his tone low and unyielding.

Daphne obeyed instinctively, her gaze lifting to meet his, and for a moment, she felt anchored by the cold steadiness in his eyes. There was something deeply unsettling about him.

But her gaze shifted, almost involuntarily, back to the man on the ground, her would-be attacker, now reduced to a whimpering, broken figure. The fear in his eyes was overwhelming, his face contorted as he stared blankly ahead, trembling uncontrollably. It was as if he were haunted by something that only he could see.

Then she felt it—a light, firm touch beneath her chin, tilting her face upward with unsettling gentleness. Her breath caught as she looked up, her wide eyes meeting the piercing gaze of the man who had just saved her. He had knelt down in front of her, his face close, his expression calm, almost clinical, as though he were studying her reaction with a detached curiosity.

“Look at me,” he commanded softly, his voice smooth and controlled, with an edge that made her shiver.

His fingers held her chin with a firm but not painful grip, guiding her gaze back to him, not allowing her to look away. She found herself caught in his stare, unable to break free, her heart hammering in her chest as his dark, unwavering eyes seemed to see straight through her.

There was something cold and calculated in his expression, but beneath it lay a flicker of something more—an unsettling fascination.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she looked up, finding herself captured by his unwavering, almost hypnotic gaze. The stranger’s fingers held her chin firmly, tilting her face so she couldn’t look away. His eyes, dark and unyielding, seemed to pierce through her, stripping away every defense she had.

There was a cold, detached quality to his expression, but underneath it, Daphne sensed a flicker of something more—an unsettling fascination, as though her fear intrigued him.

And then, like a bolt of icy recognition, it struck her.

Fragments of research came flooding back, the countless hours she’d spent pouring over articles and medical journals on fear, its psychology, its application. His face—she’d seen it before, in textbooks, in clinical journals, in articles dissecting the weaponization of fear itself.

Jonathan Crane.

[solarsyrup]

Have you played the other paper mario games and if so what are your thoughts

I have! The original trifecta are among my absolute favorite games, so lemme go ahead and put my thoughts under a readmore before this gets ramble-y:

To start, the original Paper Mario is an incredibly charming and very user-friendly game. Being the first game in the sub-series, it tends to veer a little too much into holding the player's hand and the battle system is pretty simple, but it's still a great game. Got a cast of some adorable characters, some very memorable (if not especially difficult) bosses, and codified a lot of elements that would be expanded upon greatly in future installments. And I absolutely adore the storybook-style trappings they gave it, and I think it would benefit a lot from a remake a la the arts-and-crafts style of Kirby's Epic Yarn or those Yoshi games with the craft aesthetics. Maybe someday!

I know technically this was a question about the other Paper Mario games, but sorry, I have to gush about The Thousand-Year Door. I love that game! I love it to pieces! They took a look at all the mechanics and story elements they introduced in the first game and improved on every single one!! Battles are dynamic and much more difficult! The plot is much more involved and the writing THRIVES on a whole game stuffed full of memorable characters! Bosses are bigger and more menacing! The jokes are better! Locales are much more diverse, and every chapter gets an interesting little sub-arc to really help tie things together! It really is hard to overstate how HUGE of a step forward TTYD was, and still is! I could go on about it all day but one aspect that I especially love is presenting the battles as stage plays in front of an audience. It helps justify how the player is able to recover energy for special moves (which, hey, is also slight foreshadowing for a plot beat in the eleventh hour! now THAT'S some good integration of plot and gameplay!) but it ALSO makes for much more dynamic fights, with curveballs like props falling on combatants, audience members tossing you items both good and bad (somewhat literal curveballs!), and even showstopping moments where bosses will actually tamper with your audience to get an edge! It's a really phenomenal part of what's already an excellent game. One of my all-time favorites, if not the favorite.

Also, I think Goombella is cute. Sue me.

Super Paper Mario is the oddball, without a doubt. It's generally a platformer, but with RPG elements and the occasional gameplay switcheroo to help keep things fresh. This does help keep the action moving, but surprisingly, SPM has an even more involved plot than its genuine RPG predecessors, meaning that even at the time of release it caught flak for its somewhat uneven gameplay. That said, SPM is a wonderful game. The increased focus on plot makes it perhaps the most tightly-woven narrative of the three, and themes of love and death run throughout the game, explored in many different contexts. Not to give it too much credit, but it's one of the very few games to make me flat-out cry. It also gives Luigi a starring role, which after two games of him more-or-less relegated to cameos makes it all the more heartwarming. While I'm still holding out for a remake of the original Paper Mario, I think it's SPM that really deserves it. Count Bleck would absolutely crush it as a tumblr sexyman.

I really wish they made more Paper Mario game, but alas! They knew they'd peaked and left well enough alone. But hey, three excellent games is better than a protracted, agonizing series of sequels clinging on to the husk of a good idea, right?

Right?

[five-or-so-missing-children]

//People argue a lot that the FNAF timeline should likely be split up, but it's today that I've been informed that some people think it split off later than I do, which is quite a surprise, but I realized they have a point.

//So...

//I think the FNAF timeline should be divided into three distinct timelines/arcs.

//Hear me out:

FNAF1 through FNAF4: What I'm gonna call the Haunted House Arc, because of how much of a human element it seems to lack. It does not give much to work with. There isn't much focus on the people themselves, just a very impersonal recounting of the tragic crimes that took place within the establishment's walls. As for the finer details, that's left up to the audience to decide for themselves, as "perhaps some things are best left forgotten". You're not getting any more information or definitive answers. You are a mere outside observer trying to solve a crime with more than half the pieces missing. Can you accept that, player? Should you really even be looking?

SisLoc + PizzaSim + UCN: Afton Family Arc. This arc also includes the original trilogy of books that were published shortly before SisLoc; after all, their canonicity was heavily disputed at the time. These games focus primarily on the Aftons and all the people who get caught up in their web. The tragedy here is more personal, a story of a deeply unhealthy family and interpersonal conflicts, rooted in the diabolical actions of one man. Jealousy, revenge, depression, heaven/hell... It's a little like a soup opera in that way, right?

Help Wanted 1/2 + SecBreach: Future Arc. These games introduce more sci-fi elements like sapient robots, mind-altering VR viruses, and X-ray vision. The conflict seems to be more focused on man vs. machine, as well as the blurred lines between the two. Afton isn't the villain anymore, he's just another example of those blurred lines. Is he still human, or is he a machine? Was he ever a human? Are the Glamrocks human? They can think, can't they? What about the Mimic and it's ability to pretend? What makes a machine, and what makes a human?

//What would this mean for the "true timeline"? My argument is I don't think there is one. FNAF is a franchise with writing that is objectively being pantsed and thrives off ambiguity to encourage speculation. The writing is NOT infallible.

//I think it's far healthier to break up the story into distinct parts that have similar themes/plot threads/release dates and analyze everything within that distinct chunk objectively/with the same lens, while every other game is only used to supplement the details within the arc.

//Like, you can use the previous or later games to construct a timeline with in an arc. If there is something said in FNAF3 that you think adds to the Afton Family Arc, it's a valid interpretation of canon and you can add it to your theory. However, if FNAF3 says something that contradicts it... whatever! Ignore it! FNAF3 is meant to be telling a different story! And if you try to construct one large timeline from FNAF unironically, you WILL be overwhelmed and can NEVER be truly correct.

//I'm willing to accept the argument that these lines are somewhat blurry. After all, I don't think FNAF was made with these sorts of divisions in mind. There was definitely a transition between each, and future installments always borrow from the past.

//Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[harmonyhealinghub]

The Marvels: A Phenomenon That Captivated Hearts Worldwide

Shaina Tranquilino

November 14, 2023

In the vast realm of comic book superheroes, few franchises have managed to captivate audiences quite like Marvel. With its rich universe and diverse range of characters, Marvel Studios has taken the world by storm in recent years. In this blog post, we'll explore how the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) became so popular and why people love it so much.

1. Building a Cinematic Universe: One key reason for the immense popularity of the Marvels lies in their ability to create an interconnected cinematic universe. Unlike standalone superhero films, the MCU presents a grand narrative that spans multiple movies and TV series. This unique approach allows fans to immerse themselves in a comprehensive storytelling experience, connecting with characters on multiple levels.

2. Relatable and Complex Characters: Marvel's heroes are not merely invincible demigods but also complex individuals with relatable struggles. From Tony Stark's journey from arrogance to humility as Iron Man to Peter Parker's coming-of-age story as Spider-Man, these flawed yet endearing characters resonate deeply with audiences. Their humanity makes them more than just superheroes; they become symbols of hope, resilience, and personal growth.

3. Diverse Representation: The Marvels have always embraced diversity and inclusivity, allowing people from all walks of life to feel represented on screen. Black Panther became a cultural phenomenon as it celebrated African culture while highlighting themes of identity and social justice. Similarly, Captain Marvel shattered gender stereotypes by presenting a strong female lead who defied expectations. By championing representation, Marvel has created a fan base that feels seen and empowered.

4. Humour & Wit: Humour plays a crucial role in making the Marvel films enjoyable for viewers of all ages. The franchise is renowned for its witty one-liners, banter between characters, and well-timed comedic moments amidst intense action sequences. This blending of humour with serious storytelling strikes a perfect balance, keeping audiences entertained and emotionally invested.

5. Epic Action Sequences & Visual Effects: The Marvels are synonymous with mind-blowing action sequences that push the boundaries of visual effects. From the exhilarating battles in The Avengers to the breathtaking cosmic warfare in Guardians of the Galaxy, these films offer an immersive experience unlike any other. Such larger-than-life spectacles leave fans in awe and fuel their desire for more superhero adventures.

6. Emotional Connections: Marvel movies aren't just about flashy powers and epic battles; they also excel at creating emotional connections. Whether it's witnessing Steve Rogers' unwavering loyalty or feeling the pain of Tony Stark sacrificing himself for the greater good, these moments tug at our heartstrings. The ability to evoke genuine emotions strengthens the bond between viewers and characters, making them unforgettable.

The Marvels' meteoric rise to popularity is no accident but rather a result of careful planning, compelling storytelling, diverse representation, and relatable characters. By incorporating humour, emotional depth, and jaw-dropping visuals into their films, Marvel Studios has created an unparalleled cinematic universe that has won over hearts worldwide. As we eagerly anticipate future installments like Spider-Man: No Way Home and Thor: Love and Thunder, it's clear that this superhero franchise will continue to thrive on its formula for success.

[thedunesea]

2, 30, 40!

Thank you for the asks 💕

From this game

I've already answered 2 here

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

Not in a fic I've published, but I've been working for years now on a passion project that is definitely out my comfort zone. It's a Sith AU in which the Galaxy has been ruled by the Sith for millennia, since the Sacking of Coruscant during the Great Galactic War ca. 3650 bby. Obi-Wan is a Sith raised in the Temple on Coruscant, he stumbles upon Anakin by chance and decides against all sense and reason to take him as his apprentice (with all the Qui-Gon& Padmé on Tatooine backstory to be revealed throughout the story). It's a redemption story, of Obi-Wan redeeming himself through his love for Anakin even as Anakin feels the pull of the Dark Side, and I really want to write it because it's both fascinating and challenging and full of very emotional moments, not to mention the fact that it's been living in my brain since 2019, but there is something deeply unsettling in writing what amounts to the redemption story of a member of a violent, brutal and totalitarian religious regime, even if brainwashed since infancy. Also, by its nature a story like this has a lot of toxic, messed up or straight up evil moments that I will have to write giving them the right weight.

Last but not least, I also really want to make it Obianidala but I don't think I have the craftsmanship to write something so complex and add a believable polyamorous relationship to the mix.

40. Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

I have always thrived on hyperfixations, and this is true for fics as well. I have re-read my favorites an honestly embarrassing number of times. I think I have read my favorite series at least 10 times (it's a 500k monster), and its first installment probably closer to 20. I'm very particular about dynamics and themes, so when I find something that scratches all my itches I'm hooked for life.

[risetomastery]

How to Turn Your Online Business Dreams into Reality

Introduction: The Digital Frontier of Entrepreneurship Selecting a Niche and Business Model: The Foundation of Success Building Your Online Platform and Brand: Your Digital Headquarters Creating High-Demand Products and Services: Delivering Value to Your Audience Implementing Effective Marketing Strategies: Attracting Targeted Traffic Diversifying Revenue Streams for Maximum Profits: Building Financial Stability Optimizing for Maximum Profitability Long-Term: Building a Sustainable Business Conclusion: Turning Dreams into Reality True successful story

Introduction: The Digital Frontier of Entrepreneurship

In today's digital age, the rise of the internet and technology has revolutionized the way we do business. It has opened a world of opportunities for entrepreneurs to start and run their own businesses online. Online businesses offer flexibility, scalability, and the potential for global reach. This comprehensive guide will provide you with a step-by-step framework for building a profitable online business from the ground up. Whether you want to start a side business or build a full-time online empire, follow this ultimate guide to turn your idea into a thriving, sustainable online business. With focus, grit, and commitment to continuous improvement, you can build the profitable online business of your dreams.

Selecting a Niche and Business Model: The Foundation of Success

The foundation of every successful online business is choosing a profitable, in-demand niche and a business model tailored to your goals. Select a niche you're passionate about; this will make creating content a breeze. Conduct thorough keyword research to assess search volume and demand. Join relevant online communities to connect with your audience and understand their needs. Evaluate direct competitors in the niche and aim for less saturated niches or unique angles. Consider affiliate marketing potential, as some niches offer higher commissions. Assess opportunities to create multiple products and monetize in diverse ways. Examples of popular online business niches include health, fitness, personal finance, pet care, tech, travel, content marketing, home design, spirituality, language learning, and more. Choose a business model that complements your niche and provides multiple income stream opportunities. Many successful online businesses incorporate 3-4 monetization models. Some of the best online business models to consider include: 1. Blogging: Make money with display ads, affiliates, and branded products. 2. Online Courses: Sell your knowledge and expertise as courses. 3. Dropshipping: Curate and sell products without inventory. 4. Affiliate Marketing: Earn commissions promoting other companies' products. 5. Information Products: Sell online books, templates, checklists, and more. 6. Virtual Services: Provide consulting, freelancing, coaching, or other services. 7. Subscription Membership Site: Offer exclusive content or tools for a monthly fee. 8. E-commerce Store: Sell physical products, merchandising, and more. Your choice should complement your niche and offer multiple income streams. Many successful online businesses incorporate 3-4 monetization models.

Building Your Online Platform and Brand: Your Digital Headquarters

Your website or blog will serve as the headquarters for your online business. Invest time upfront in creating an optimized, professional-looking platform. Purchase a domain name that matches your brand, ideally a .com if available. Select reliable web hosting with optimal speed and uptime. Install WordPress or ecommerce platforms like Shopify or WooCommerce. Design an on-brand, mobile-responsive theme that conveys your style. Include essential pages like Home, About, Contact, Services, Blog, and Shop. Set up email marketing and analytics to capture leads and track traffic data. Create visually branded assets such as logos, color palettes, fonts, and graphics. Ensure a cohesive user experience across all touchpoints. If you lack web development skills, consider hiring a freelance designer to bring your vision to life. Continually optimize your website for higher traffic, leads, and sales over time. This includes technical enhancements, user experience improvements, and page speed optimizations.

Creating High-Demand Products and Services: Delivering Value to Your Audience

The key to running a profitable online business is consistently creating products and services that deliver extreme value to your audience. Popular digital products you can create include online courses, eBooks, guides, checklists, software, premium memberships, virtual events, video tutorials, templates, and more. When brainstorming products, look for opportunities to simplify lives, save time, educate, entertain, or improve outcomes for your target customers. Leverage your expertise and tap into the skills of others to create premium offerings. High-value services like consulting, freelancing, coaching, and more can also be extremely lucrative. Promote your services through your website and social platforms. Structure your offerings to passively earn income over time, such as online courses that continually generate sales vs. 1-on-1 services that require ongoing effort. Deliver an excellent user experience across your products and relentlessly optimize based on feedback to foster raving fans who refer others.

Implementing Effective Marketing Strategies: Attracting Targeted Traffic

Once your online platform and offerings are ready, it's time to start attracting targeted traffic using proven marketing tactics. A diverse marketing mix is key. Some of the top strategies include: 1. Content Marketing: Create engaging blog posts, videos, and visual content. 2. SEO: Optimize your website for search engines through on-page optimization and link-building. 3. PPC Ads: Utilize platforms like Google, Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube for pay-per-click advertising. 4. Email Marketing: Build your email list with lead magnets, newsletters, and automation. 5. Social Media Marketing: Employ organic and paid tactics to engage your audience. 6. Affiliate Marketing: Recruit others to promote your products and earn commissions. 7. Influencer Partnerships: Collaborate with relevant influencers in your niche. 8. Live Events: Host local meetups or virtual events to connect with your audience. 9. Podcast Guest Appearances: Grow your authority and reach new audiences. 10. Retargeting Ads: Remarket to previous site visitors across the web. Start by focusing on 1-3 core channels, then expand your efforts over time. Pay-per-click and social ads can help quickly scale an audience, while SEO and content creation tend to be most cost-effective in the long-term. Leverage tools like Google Analytics, Facebook Business Suite, and landing page builders to optimize results across all campaigns. Don't hesitate to enlist help from digital marketing agencies and specialists.

Diversifying Revenue Streams for Maximum Profits: Building Financial Stability

Generating multiple streams of revenue is key for building a highly profitable online business. Diversification reduces risk and provides stability as each income channel goes through ups and downs. Here are some of the most lucrative online business revenue models: 1. Product/Service Sales: Your core monetization stream. Ensure competitive yet profitable pricing. 2. Advertising: Display ads, sponsorships, native advertising, etc. Set up Google Ad Manager. 3. Affiliate Marketing: Promote other company's products for commissions. Join affiliate networks. 4. Memberships/Subscriptions: Offer exclusive benefits, content, or tools for a monthly fee. 5. Events: Sell tickets for online or in-person events and training programs. 6. Dropshipping: Curate and sell products without holding inventory. 7. Physical Merchandise: Sell branded products with print-on-demand services. 8. Consulting/Freelancing: Sell your skills and expertise through 1-on-1 services. 9. Tip Jars/Donations: Allow fans to tip or donate to show support. Aim to generate income from both active efforts like service packages and passive streams like online courses that earn as you sleep. Automate processes wherever possible to scale income without increasing workload proportionally. Reinvest profits back into growing your business and diversifying income channels to create an unstoppable snowball effect over time.

Optimizing for Maximum Profitability Long-Term: Building a Sustainable Business

Launching a profitable online business is an important first step. However, creating systems and processes that enable high profitability long-term is vital for sustaining growth. Here are some best practices for optimizing operations and profitability: - Obsessively track KPIs and metrics for all marketing channels and funnels. Analyze data to optimize underperforming areas. - Create excellent customer support systems. Provide prompt, personalized support to increase satisfaction and referrals. - Automate repetitive tasks wherever possible with tools like Zapier. Automate lead collection, customer onboarding, analytics, inventory management, etc. - Systematize your product creation process to quickly test and validate new product ideas, then scale those that resonate. - Document your systems and processes so future hires can replicate them. This includes SOPs for customer service, product fulfillment, etc. - Build a skilled team over time by hiring virtual assistants, freelancers, agencies, and eventually full-time employees. Focus on higher-level strategy. - Maintain work-life balance as a long-term entrepreneur. Make time for adequate rest, leisure, and self-care to avoid burnout. By staying agile, embracing innovation, and relentlessly providing value to your audience, you can build an online business that delivers meaningful income for decades to come.

Conclusion: Turning Dreams into Reality

Starting and running a profitable online business takes consistent effort and persistence. However, by zeroing in on a niche, selecting the right model, crafting high-value offerings, implementing diverse marketing strategies, diversifying your revenue streams, and optimizing for maximum efficiency, you can build an online business that provides freedom and fulfillment for years to come. Remember to stay obsessively focused on understanding and serving your target audience. Combine your passion with grit, resilience, and creativity. With the right mindset and business foundations in place, you have immense potential to build a thriving online business that stands out and makes a lasting impact. The time to stop dreaming and start taking action is now. Follow this comprehensive guide to turn your online business idea into reality, step-by-step. You can build an online empire that allows you to live life on your terms. The possibilities are truly endless if you commit to continuous learning and improvement. Let this guide spark the fire within and set you on the path to online business success. Start pursuing your online entrepreneur dream today.

True successful story

To illustrate the principles and strategies discussed in this comprehensive guide, let's delve into the inspiring true story of Pat Flynn and his online business, Smart Passive Income. Smart Passive Income - About Pat Flynn Background: Pat Flynn was once an aspiring architect who unexpectedly found himself laid off during the economic downturn in 2008. Faced with uncertainty, he turned to the online world to seek alternative income sources. His journey began with a blog, which he aptly named Smart Passive Income (SPI). Selecting a Niche and Business Model: Pat recognized that there was a significant demand for information about creating online businesses and generating passive income. He was passionate about sharing his experiences, both successes and failures, and helping others navigate the world of online entrepreneurship. Pat's chosen niche was personal finance, but his business model extended beyond blogging. Building Your Online Platform and Brand: Pat invested in creating a professional-looking platform for SPI. He purchased a domain name, set up reliable web hosting, and designed an appealing website. His commitment to providing value was evident through the content he produced on his blog, podcast, and YouTube channel. His brand, Smart Passive Income, became synonymous with transparency, authenticity, and actionable advice. Creating High-Demand Products and Services: One of Pat's significant successes came from his creation of online courses and informational products. He developed courses on topics like email marketing, affiliate marketing, and podcasting, leveraging his expertise and audience trust. These products delivered immense value to his audience and contributed significantly to his income. Implementing Effective Marketing Strategies: Pat's marketing strategy was built on content marketing, podcasting, and email marketing. He consistently produced high-quality blog posts and podcasts, which not only attracted a dedicated audience but also positioned him as an industry expert. His email list grew as he offered valuable lead magnets and nurtured his subscribers. Diversifying Revenue Streams for Maximum Profits: Pat's income streams diversified over time. In addition to course sales, he earned from affiliate marketing, book sales, and speaking engagements. He also ventured into software development, creating tools like the Smart Podcast Player. This diversification provided stability and mitigated risk. Optimizing for Maximum Profitability Long-Term: Pat was relentless in optimizing his operations. He regularly analyzed data and user feedback to improve his products and content. His team expanded as the business grew, allowing him to focus on strategic decision-making. Pat prioritized work-life balance, emphasizing family and well-being. Conclusion: Pat Flynn's journey from unexpected job loss to the creation of a successful online business, Smart Passive Income, serves as an inspiring real-life example of the principles discussed in this guide. His dedication to providing value, commitment to continuous improvement, and willingness to diversify income streams are key takeaways for anyone aspiring to build a thriving online business. Pat's story reminds us that with the right mindset and a clear vision, online entrepreneurship can lead to a fulfilling and prosperous career.

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[fusioneventzf]

Creating Unforgettable Moments With Bangalore’s Best Planners

The Growing Demand for Event Planning in Bangalore

In the ever-vibrant city of Bangalore, the need for creative, professional, and detail-oriented event planners is at an all-time high. Whether it’s a luxurious wedding, a grand corporate gala, or a fun-filled birthday party, every event deserves a flawless execution. With an increasing number of people seeking stress-free and unforgettable experiences, the role of event organizers in Bangalore has become pivotal in turning ordinary occasions into extraordinary memories.

Why Professional Event Planning Matters

Planning an event, regardless of its size, involves multiple layers—from budgeting and venue selection to decor, catering, entertainment, and guest management. Without professional expertise, one can easily feel overwhelmed. This is where an experienced event planner Bangalore steps in, offering seamless coordination and innovative ideas tailored to your vision and budget.

These professionals work behind the scenes to ensure that every detail, no matter how minor, aligns perfectly with the event’s purpose and theme. With their extensive networks and logistical skills, they manage timelines, vendor negotiations, and unexpected hiccups with grace and agility.

Types of Events Handled by Experts

One of the reasons Bangalore’s event industry thrives is its adaptability to diverse cultures, themes, and celebrations. The most sought-after event organizers in Bangalore offer services for:

Weddings: From traditional ceremonies to modern destination weddings.

Corporate Events: Product launches, award functions, team-building activities, and conferences.

Private Parties: Birthdays, anniversaries, baby showers, and themed celebrations.

Cultural Festivals: Large-scale public events, exhibitions, and local festivals.

They not only conceptualize unique themes and experiences but also handle crowd control, media, technical setups, and entertainment with utmost professionalism.

Trends Shaping the Event Planning Scene

Modern clients are no longer satisfied with basic setups. They demand personalization, immersive themes, and social media-worthy aesthetics. Here are some trends that top event planner Bangalore professionals are embracing:

Eco-friendly Events: Using sustainable decor, reusable tableware, and zero-waste catering.

Tech-Integrated Events: Livestreaming, LED screens, and interactive audience engagement tools.

Destination Experiences: Unique venues within Bangalore or outside, providing a getaway feel.

Customized Decor: Personalized signage, thematic props, and floral installations.

Fusion of Cultures: Integrating different cultural elements to reflect the diversity of guests.

Event planning companies that stay ahead of these trends often deliver more memorable and meaningful celebrations.

The Process: From Concept to Celebration

Successful events are not just about execution—they’re about storytelling. The journey with the best event organizers in Bangalore often starts with a consultation to understand the client’s vision, preferences, and expectations. From there:

Planning: A detailed roadmap is drawn up, including timelines, budgets, and vendor lists.

Design: Creative concepts and layouts are shared through mood boards and mock-ups.

Execution: Every component, from lighting to sound to seating, is handled with precision.

Coordination: On the event day, the team manages the timeline, ensures vendor punctuality, and takes care of last-minute needs.

Closure: Post-event clean-up, feedback collection, and ensuring every aspect has met or exceeded expectations.

What Sets Bangalore’s Event Experts Apart?

Bangalore is a city that thrives on innovation and culture. The event planner Bangalore professionals here bring a perfect blend of creativity and discipline. Their ability to think on their feet, offer budget-smart solutions, and build strong vendor relationships sets them apart in an industry driven by trust and creativity.

Moreover, their multicultural understanding allows them to cater to clients from various backgrounds, whether it's a Tamil Brahmin wedding, a North Indian sangeet, or a Christian engagement ceremony—all while keeping it fresh, stylish, and heartfelt.

Choosing the Right Event Planner

Before you select your event partner, consider the following:

Portfolio and Past Work: Look for diversity and creativity.

Client Testimonials: Reviews often reveal their strengths.

Flexibility and Communication: The ability to adapt and respond promptly is crucial.

Budget Transparency: Clear cost breakdowns help build trust.

You can explore top-rated professionals on sites like fusioneventz.in, where event excellence meets personalized service.

Conclusion: Making Moments Matter with the Right Team

Every celebration deserves magic, and that magic lies in thoughtful planning and seamless execution. Whether it’s your big day or an important corporate milestone, aligning with the right professionals can make all the difference. With a team like Fusioneventz.in, you’re not just hiring planners—you’re gaining partners who care about your memories as much as you do.

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[tnsigns]

Top 5 Benefits of Installing 3D Acrylic Letter Boards in Chennai Shops

Chennai's vibrant retail culture thrives on visibility, aesthetics, and strong brand presence. Whether you're running a boutique in T. Nagar, a salon in Anna Nagar, or a café in Adyar, your storefront signage plays a major role in attracting customers. One of the most trending and effective solutions today is 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai—a perfect blend of elegance and durability.

At TN Signs, we’ve seen first-hand how these boards transform retail shops and increase visibility. This blog explores the top 5 benefits of installing 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai shops, and why it’s one of the smartest decisions for your business.

1. Superior Visual Appeal with 3D Acrylic Letter Sign Boards in Chennai

Unlike traditional 2D or flex sign boards, 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai stand out with a bold and professional appearance. Their layered depth, glossy finish, and crisp edges provide a premium look that immediately draws attention.

These sign boards:

Help your store stand out on crowded streets

Add a modern and upscale vibe to your brand

Instantly communicate trust and professionalism

Whether backlit or front-lit, they create a dynamic effect that enhances visibility both day and night. In a city as fast-paced as Chennai, capturing even a moment of attention can turn into a valuable walk-in.

2. Branding That Builds Trust

In today’s retail world, customers judge businesses based on how they look—even before stepping inside. Signage is often your first point of contact with potential buyers. With 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai, you give your brand a polished, high-end look without overspending.

Your logo and brand name displayed in bold acrylic can:

Increase customer confidence

Make your shop look more established

Encourage impulse visits and photo opportunities

At TN Signs, we've worked with hundreds of retail outlets across Chennai, and time and again, clients tell us how much their footfall improved after upgrading to acrylic 3D signage.

👉 Ready to upgrade your storefront? Visit https://tnsigns.in for custom solutions.

3. Long-Lasting & Weather-Resistant Signage

With Chennai’s humid climate and exposure to coastal winds, your signage needs to withstand environmental challenges. One of the key reasons 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai are so popular is their durability.

These sign boards are:

Resistant to UV radiation, rain, and dust

Made from high-grade cast acrylic and laser-cut for precision

Low-maintenance and retain shine for years

Traditional signage may fade, peel, or warp over time, but acrylic signage offers long-term reliability and retains its premium look with minimal upkeep.

4. Customization & Lighting Options with 3D Acrylic Letter Sign Boards in Chennai

No two brands are the same—and your signage shouldn’t be either. 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai come with full customization options. Whether you want a neon-themed look, minimalistic matte design, or a dual-tone color scheme, we can tailor it to your exact preferences.

Popular add-ons include:

Backlit or edge-lit LED lighting

Multilingual text (e.g., English + Tamil)

Gold or metallic finishes

Combination boards with ACP and acrylic layers

At https://tnsigns.in, our design team works closely with business owners to match their vision and budget, helping them stand out uniquely in competitive locations like Pondy Bazaar, Velachery, and OMR.

5. Affordable Investment with High ROI

Compared to other forms of branding, signage offers one of the highest returns on investment. A one-time installation of 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai can generate brand recognition for years.

The ROI comes from:

Increased foot traffic

More brand mentions and shares on social media

Clear brand recall among repeat customers

When you consider how long these boards last and how little maintenance they need, it becomes clear why so many Chennai businesses are switching to 3D acrylic signage.

Why TN Signs Is Chennai’s Trusted Partner for Acrylic Boards

At TN Signs, we’re not just manufacturers—we’re your branding partners. From concept and design to laser-cutting, LED integration, and installation, we handle everything in-house. That ensures faster delivery, better pricing, and consistent quality.

Our portfolio includes signage for:

Fashion stores

Clinics and labs

Food joints

Salons and spas

Corporate offices

Every project is custom-built and aligned to brand values using 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai as the centerpiece of storefront identity.

Final Thoughts: Elevate Your Storefront with the Right Signage

Your signboard isn’t just about your shop name—it’s about how the world sees your business. And in Chennai, where every street is packed with choices, standing out is essential.

3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai give you that competitive edge: ✅ Visually attractive ✅ Long-lasting ✅ Affordable ✅ Custom-made for your brand

Don't settle for outdated flex boards or flat prints. Make the smart switch today with TN Signs and transform your store into a brand.

👉 Contact us now via https://tnsigns.in to get your free quote and design consultation.

Chennai's vibrant retail culture thrives on visibility, aesthetics, and strong brand presence. Whether you're running a boutique in T. Nagar, a salon in Anna Nagar, or a café in Adyar, your storefront signage plays a major role in attracting customers. One of the most trending and effective solutions today is 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai—a perfect blend of elegance and durability.

At TN Signs, we’ve seen first-hand how these boards transform retail shops and increase visibility. This blog explores the top 5 benefits of installing 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai shops, and why it’s one of the smartest decisions for your business.

1. Superior Visual Appeal with 3D Acrylic Letter Sign Boards in Chennai

Unlike traditional 2D or flex sign boards, 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai stand out with a bold and professional appearance. Their layered depth, glossy finish, and crisp edges provide a premium look that immediately draws attention.

These sign boards:

Help your store stand out on crowded streets

Add a modern and upscale vibe to your brand

Instantly communicate trust and professionalism

Whether backlit or front-lit, they create a dynamic effect that enhances visibility both day and night. In a city as fast-paced as Chennai, capturing even a moment of attention can turn into a valuable walk-in.

2. Branding That Builds Trust

In today’s retail world, customers judge businesses based on how they look—even before stepping inside. Signage is often your first point of contact with potential buyers. With 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai, you give your brand a polished, high-end look without overspending.

Your logo and brand name displayed in bold acrylic can:

Increase customer confidence

Make your shop look more established

Encourage impulse visits and photo opportunities

At TN Signs, we've worked with hundreds of retail outlets across Chennai, and time and again, clients tell us how much their footfall improved after upgrading to acrylic 3D signage.

👉 Ready to upgrade your storefront? Visit https://tnsigns.in for custom solutions.

3. Long-Lasting & Weather-Resistant Signage

With Chennai’s humid climate and exposure to coastal winds, your signage needs to withstand environmental challenges. One of the key reasons 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai are so popular is their durability.

These sign boards are:

Resistant to UV radiation, rain, and dust

Made from high-grade cast acrylic and laser-cut for precision

Low-maintenance and retain shine for years

Traditional signage may fade, peel, or warp over time, but acrylic signage offers long-term reliability and retains its premium look with minimal upkeep.

4. Customization & Lighting Options with 3D Acrylic Letter Sign Boards in Chennai

No two brands are the same—and your signage shouldn’t be either. 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai come with full customization options. Whether you want a neon-themed look, minimalistic matte design, or a dual-tone color scheme, we can tailor it to your exact preferences.

Popular add-ons include:

Backlit or edge-lit LED lighting

Multilingual text (e.g., English + Tamil)

Gold or metallic finishes

Combination boards with ACP and acrylic layers

At https://tnsigns.in, our design team works closely with business owners to match their vision and budget, helping them stand out uniquely in competitive locations like Pondy Bazaar, Velachery, and OMR.

5. Affordable Investment with High ROI

Compared to other forms of branding, signage offers one of the highest returns on investment. A one-time installation of 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai can generate brand recognition for years.

The ROI comes from:

Increased foot traffic

More brand mentions and shares on social media

Clear brand recall among repeat customers

When you consider how long these boards last and how little maintenance they need, it becomes clear why so many Chennai businesses are switching to 3D acrylic signage.

Why TN Signs Is Chennai’s Trusted Partner for Acrylic Boards

At TN Signs, we’re not just manufacturers—we’re your branding partners. From concept and design to laser-cutting, LED integration, and installation, we handle everything in-house. That ensures faster delivery, better pricing, and consistent quality.

Our portfolio includes signage for:

Fashion stores

Clinics and labs

Food joints

Salons and spas

Corporate offices

Every project is custom-built and aligned to brand values using 3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai as the centerpiece of storefront identity.

Final Thoughts: Elevate Your Storefront with the Right Signage

Your signboard isn’t just about your shop name—it’s about how the world sees your business. And in Chennai, where every street is packed with choices, standing out is essential.

3D acrylic letter sign boards in Chennai give you that competitive edge: ✅ Visually attractive ✅ Long-lasting ✅ Affordable ✅ Custom-made for your brand

Don't settle for outdated flex boards or flat prints. Make the smart switch today with TN Signs and transform your store into a brand.

👉 Contact us now via https://tnsigns.in to get your free quote and design consultation.

[bridl]

The Evolving Spirit of Equestrian Events in 2025

Equestrian Events in 2025 are ushering in a transformative period for the sport, redefining traditional practices with innovation and global collaboration. From refined competition standards to groundbreaking sustainability initiatives, this year marks a turning point in the global equestrian landscape. Athletes, trainers, breeders, and spectators are all adjusting to new formats that blend age-old traditions with contemporary sensibilities. The demand for ethical training practices, enhanced spectator experiences, and inclusive participation is shaping every detail of planning and execution for Equestrian Events in 2025.

As we move deeper into this exciting era, international federations and national bodies are increasingly focusing on global access. Developing nations are seeing an upsurge in grassroots programs, allowing riders from diverse backgrounds to participate in high-level competition. The impact of technology is also being felt through AI-supported training and live-streamed performances that offer fans closer insights than ever before. In all corners of the equine world, Equestrian Events in 2025 are becoming a symbol of unity, diversity, and modern innovation.

Sustainability Becomes the Core of the Arena

One of the defining themes across Equestrian Events in 2025 is sustainability. Organizers are making bold moves to reduce the sport’s environmental footprint while enhancing the quality of the experience for both horse and rider. From eco-friendly stables constructed using renewable materials to digitized logistics that minimize paper usage, this year’s events are leading by example. Even the transport of horses is seeing changes, with new travel schedules designed to reduce stress and emissions.

Stakeholders at all levels are committing to carbon-neutral goals, and this movement is reshaping how equestrian venues operate globally. Water recycling systems, solar energy installations, and partnerships with conservation organizations are now common features. With the broader public becoming increasingly conscious of sustainability, the shift is not only practical but necessary. By embedding these principles into every detail, Equestrian Events in 2025 are paving the way for a sport that thrives while protecting the environment that nurtures it.

Technology Enhances Training and Spectatorship

The integration of technology is another dominant theme driving the evolution of Equestrian Events in 2025. From the paddock to the grandstands, digital tools are improving performance and deepening engagement. Riders are using smart saddles equipped with motion sensors and biometric feedback to refine their form and monitor their horse’s health in real time. Coaches are leveraging AI-based software to analyze every movement, helping riders make immediate adjustments during training sessions. This smart coaching model is creating higher standards of competition while prioritizing the wellbeing of the horses.

Meanwhile, fans are getting closer to the action than ever before through enhanced streaming services and augmented reality platforms. Audiences can now view events with real-time analytics, switch between camera angles, and even hear rider commentary during select sessions. These advancements mean that even those who cannot attend physically still feel immersed in the excitement. With interactive fan experiences on the rise, Equestrian Events in 2025 are becoming global spectacles that connect distant communities to the thrill of elite horsemanship.

Diversity and Inclusion Take Center Stage

Perhaps one of the most important shifts taking place in Equestrian Events in 2025 is the growing emphasis on diversity and inclusion. The sport has traditionally been viewed as exclusive, often due to the high financial costs and geographic limitations. However, efforts are now being made to change this narrative and open doors for a wider range of participants. Programs supporting underrepresented riders, including those from urban settings and economically disadvantaged communities, are gaining momentum. Scholarships, equipment grants, and community-based stables are creating new pathways into the sport.

This inclusive philosophy extends beyond just riders. Event organizers are striving to make venues more accessible for people with disabilities, ensuring that everyone can enjoy the experience as either participant or spectator. Media coverage is shifting too, highlighting stories that celebrate resilience, cross-cultural achievements, and the rising stars from non-traditional equestrian nations. Through these inclusive strategies, Equestrian Events in 2025 are reshaping the culture of the sport to reflect the diversity of the world it represents.

The Rise of Equine Welfare Advocacy

As society becomes more conscious of animal rights and ethical treatment, equine welfare has become a central issue in Equestrian Events in 2025. This growing movement advocates for the physical and emotional wellbeing of horses involved in the sport. Organizations are working together to develop new welfare policies, focusing on reducing overtraining, ensuring adequate rest periods, and enforcing stricter anti-doping regulations. Veterinarians and behavioral specialists are playing more visible roles in team operations, ensuring horses receive individualized care throughout their competitive careers.

Spectators and sponsors alike are paying closer attention to how animals are treated behind the scenes. Transparency in training routines, veterinary practices, and competition rules is increasingly demanded by the public. As a result, many equestrian bodies are adopting a zero-tolerance policy for abuse and neglect. The alignment of ethical care with competitive success is proving that excellence in equestrian sports doesn’t come at the cost of animal wellbeing. This makes Equestrian Events in 2025 not only more humane but more respected across the global sports community.

Conclusion: The Future Is Galloping Ahead

The landscape of Equestrian Events in 2025 is one of bold transformation and revitalized energy. With sustainability, technology, inclusivity, and animal welfare leading the way, the sport is experiencing a renaissance that balances tradition with innovation. These shifts are not only making the sport more relevant in a changing world, but also more inspiring to the next generation of riders and fans. Equestrian Events in 2025 are not just about winning titles; they are about elevating standards, respecting nature, and building a community that embraces everyone who loves the bond between human and horse.

As we reflect on what’s taking place this year, it’s clear that the equestrian world is stepping confidently into a future built on collaboration, ethics, and imagination. These values are not passing trends but the foundation of a more vibrant and sustainable sporting culture. Equestrian Events in 2025 prove that when a sport evolves with purpose, it can create a legacy that lasts far beyond the final finish line.