#solid colour challenge

[kairukitsuneo]

Pink Ratchet discord event entry for @avoidghost Original Event post is: here [The sky is the same as the day I lost you] It's my first time to join this kind of color palette event and I struggled alot to paint Ratchet since we have to paint him Pink instead of his original color! 😭😭💦 Everyone's entry was amazing and cute! I'm inspired to try something angst and very thankful for this event to make myself grow out of my comfort zone! 💕💕

[breestb]

Inktober day 10- Fortune 2023

[qingyuns]

— i won’t let you fall down, unless you’re in my arms

alternatively, the 3 times kinich saved you from falling and the 1 time that he was the one who fell

pairing: kinich x gn!reader, wc: 2.8k, two or three swear words, reader has a pyro vision because mualani kinich reader burgeon team is a funny hc i have, ajaw makes 2 brief appearances, fluffy but ig they don’t do that much?? pre-relationship and confessions (does this count as a confession), title from an nct dream song (rains in heaven), pls reblog ty

1) The fall that was Pacha’s fault

You were never one to back down from a challenge, not when your pride was on the line. And presently, it was. It was an unfortunate mistake on your part when you’d been a little too cocky, bragging about your rock climbing skills, and as an even more unfortunate result, a friend of yours from the Scions of the Canopy had decided to dare you to climb an actual cliff near his village.

“I’ve got all the equipment,” Pacha had exclaimed. “If you’re really that good, then this should be no sweat.”

You’d narrowed your eyes at him. You couldn’t tell if his smile was mocking or not.

“No problem.”

But now, as you looked up and tried to find another edge to grasp at, you were wishing you had backed down. Seriously, this cliff was just a flat canvas of orange. What were you supposed to hold onto?

“Stupid Pacha,” you hissed to yourself as you reached for a bump in the cliff face. “Stupid cliff.”

Man, you wished you had a Geo vision. Then you could probably create some kind of ledge to rest on. Or maybe an Anemo one would be more useful. You could make yourself float to the top.

You were also never one to be afraid of heights, but as you glanced down, your heart jolted at the distance between you and the ground. Too high. Much, much too high. Your Pyro vision hung uselessly at your hip.

A second glance told you that Pacha was no longer anywhere to be found, and you cursed him under your breath.

“Okay, don’t panic. Just don’t panic and don’t fall,” you huffed. “Easy enough.”

Your palms were moist, your fingers were suddenly too smooth. And just when you risked a second to wipe your hand dry on your leg….

….the other one slipped, and you were falling.

The organ in your chest seemed to stop. This is it, you thought, I’m dead. You were falling, and falling and falling, until suddenly, while your eyes were squeezed shut and your stomach was leaping like a wild Koholasaurus in water, you were flying.

It took you a second for your brain to orient itself, to realise that you weren’t in fact dead yet, but when it did, you felt an arm wrapped securely around your waist, so tight that it was almost painful. You peeled your eyelids open. In your limited view, your saviour was nothing more than a head of dark hair and a blur of green attire. The surrounding cliffs were reduced to blobs of colour as you were swung through the air, down then up, down then up, until your feet were once again on solid ground.

Your knees almost collapsed once you were, and both of your saviour’s arms moved to steady you. A blink. Two blinks. You waited for your breathing to return to normal, then your eyes flitted up to meet theirs.

A kaleidoscope of green and gold greeted you. Huh, pretty.

Your saviour let out a strangled sound, something between a choke and a grunt, and released you. Oh. Had you said that out loud?

“Uh, sorry,” you coughed awkwardly. You took a step back, fiddling with your fingers. “Thanks for saving me.”

With the bandana that was tied over his forehead, it was difficult to discern his emotions. He gave you a curt nod. “You should be more careful.”

A distant yell made both of your hands turn, and you saw the tiny figure of Pacha rapidly approaching and waving his hand at you. By the time he’d closed the distance, which to his credit only took about eight seconds (so he must have felt at least a little guilty about almost letting you die), the guy beside you had vanished.

“Are you okay?” Pacha exclaimed as he skidded to a stop in front of you. You nodded, and he let out a sigh of relief, before looking around curiously. “Was that Kinich?”

2) The fall that was a Tepetlisaurus’ fault

The next time you met Kinich (‘Malipo’ Kinich, a Saurian Hunter who according to Pacha, was transactional, blunt and borderline reclusive), you were on the cliffs by the Children of the Echoes, picking Saurian Claw Succulents as a favour for a new friend of yours, a sweet young girl by the name of Kachina.

And maybe you shouldn’t have been crouching so close to the edge of a cliff, but how you were supposed to know that a Tepetlisaurus burrowing in the earth would come straight for your footing and uproot you, effectively tossing you off the side? Really, it wasn’t your fault! It was just some kind of ninja saurian.

This was only the second time you’d ever fallen off the side of a cliff, but for some reason, you were hardly surprised when the same person came to your rescue this time.

He looked at you blankly as you clutched at the succulent in your hand, eyes darting around to avoid prolonged eye contact. You were sure he probably had an eyebrow raised under his bandana.

“Do you make it a habit to throw yourself off every cliff you come across?”

You flinched. “Well, no.”

His arms crossed over his chest, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes were drawn to the tattoos exposed on his biceps. The teal suited him, you thought absently.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a screeching voice. “Well, what’s your problem, then!”

A flashing myriad of yellow and green flitted into the air. The creature that had popped up from behind Kinich was … strange, to say the least. A strange, blocky thing. It looked strangely flat, like a hundred tiny, flat, square blocks. Were you going insane?

Kinich sent an annoyed glance towards the creature, before looking back at you to see that your mouth was now agape as you stared.

“Oh, right. You haven’t met Ajaw.”

“Oh,” you muttered, suddenly feeling fainter than you had when falling off the cliff, “so this is Ajaw.”

The blocky creature expanded around the middle (you supposed that was the equivalent of puffing out its chest). “Aha! So you’ve heard of the Almighty Dragonlord, K’uhul Ajaw, have you? Tell me, peasant, what have you been told? That I’m ferocious and powerful?”

Kinich sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. You blinked at the creature. You thought back to what Pacha had said – “Ajaw. He’s Kinich’s saurian companion. Really weird little guy. Super annoying.”

“Yeah,” you assented, “something like that.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Kinich sighed. It took you a second to realise that he wasn’t talking to you.

“Maybe you should shut up, Kinich!” Ajaw’s eyes angled themselves into a glare, and he fluttered around agitatedly.

The response he received was a flick of a gloved hand, which sent the Saurian soaring into the sky, until you couldn’t even see him anymore. You were pretty sure you’d never blinked as much in your life as you had in the last five minutes.

Kinich turned to you. “Sorry about him.”

“Um, that’s alright,” you said half-heartedly.

“So how come you’ve fallen off another cliff?”

Yikes. He must have thought you were either insanely insane or tremendously stupid.

“A Saurian knocked me off the side when I was picking succulents,” you muttered, cheeks flushing with heat.

He hummed. You weren’t quite sure what that meant. “And the other time?”

 “Um, my friend dared me to climb the cliff. So I did.” You winced. “But I swear, these are the only times I’ve ever fallen off a cliff.”

It was a sentence you never thought you’d have to say. How embarrassing. You waited for the inevitable scolding or mocking to fall upon your ears, but then—

“Alright,” Kinich nodded easily. “Maybe try to avoid cliffs from now on."

Then he turned around, and started walking away. The sudden departure made you recoil in shock. Was the conversation over? Pacha really wasn't exaggerating when he said Kinich was reclusive.

"Huh? Wait a second!" You weren't sure what came over you in that moment, but you had a startling feeling that you couldn't let him leave here.

He paused, and turned to look at you, head tilted slightly to the side.

"Um, hold on." You thought for a moment. How to make him stay for longer? "Are you free right now? I'd like to treat you to a meal, if possible. You know, to thank you."

Your hands clasped in front of you and you fiddled with your fingers.

Kinich blinked slowly for a moment and stared at you. For a horrible moment, you thought he was going to decline, in which case you would have had to turn tail and flee on the spot, but instead, he nodded.

"I have some time."

You brightened. "Great! I know this place that has the best tatacos!"

There was a light skip in your movements as you began to lead the way, trusting that he was following you. You could only hope he didn't eat too much. You weren't sure your pockets could afford it, and you'd hate to make an even bigger fool of yourself in front of him by being too broke to pay. What a horrible first impression...

“Oh, right!” you paused in your steps for a moment. “I forgot to introduce myself!”

And so you did, and you watched as something that almost looked like a smile twitched at Kinich’s lips. Then, as if testing the way it rolled on his tongue, he repeated your name carefully.

Something fluttered in your stomach as you beamed. Yeah, you sure liked the way that sounded.

3) The fall that was the fault of a slippery rock

“No, guys, trust me. I just discovered it. It’s like, really underground.”

Kinich sighed as Mualani giggled at her own joke. As if on impulse, you laughed along with her, but you even as the sound escaped you, you couldn’t tell if it came from a place of pity or not. Underground, because it was literally in an underground cave. Hilarious. Still, a small smile made its way onto your face. This was nice. As much as you loved your other friends, it sure felt great to hang out with people who didn’t always challenge you to risk your life (fuck you, Pacha), though you suspected Mualani was just waiting for a chance to take you Spirit Wave riding, and you weren’t sure you were quite ready for that yet.

Today, however, you were spared. Mualani had promised you and Kinich a relaxing afternoon in a new hot spring she’d found. And so you were following her into an opening in the rock face.

The air was immediately a little cooler than it was outside as you stepped into the darkness. The cave was still illuminated by the sunlight, and you could see more patches of light ahead. It glowed slightly in the reflections of the rock on the ground.

“It’s a little steep here,” your friend warned. “Watch your step.”

No sooner had you nodded to show your understanding than you had placed your foot down on a particularly slippery patch on the floor, and it slid.

A gasp tore out of you, but two arms were already wrapping around you from behind.

“Be careful,” his voice murmured in your ear. You almost gasped again. How glad you were that he was behind you and thus couldn’t see the way you froze up at the feeling of his breath on your skin.

From a little ways ahead of you, Mualani called out. “Hey, you alright?”

Your throat suddenly felt very dry. You cleared it before telling her that you were.

Kinich kept one hand on your waist for the next few steps before removing it after you had found your footing. You found yourself missing his touch upon the removal.

No matter, you assured yourself. Focus on not falling over again. The decline of the slope eased out into a flatter path, and soon the tunnel opened up into an expansive area. The underground spring was much brighter than you had anticipated, thanks to the perfectly round opening at the top. Smooth, round rocks seemed to line the edge, and the water sparkled in the ripples as Mualani crouched down to test it with her hand.

“Oh no!” she exclaimed.

You turned your attention to her. “What is it?”

“It’s cold! It was really toasty last time, though,” she frowned. “It must be because it’s further away. The underground water flow can get unstable and–“

As she rambled on, you crouched by the side of the spring, dipping your hand into the water. It lukewarm at best, but the pool wasn’t as big as most of the one’s above ground. You could work with this. Placing both hands in the not-so-hot spring, the vision at your side pulsed with energy. You let the heat flow through your body to your fingertips, as steam floated just above the surface of the water.

You failed to notice the pair of eyes that were fixed on you as you smiled to yourself.

“Hey, Mualani? Is this better?” Mualani’s eyes widened as she watched the mist rising out of the hot spring.

“Yes, yes, yes!” She squealed. She rushed to your side, squeezing you in a hug, before drawing back immediately. “Ow, hot!”

The girl quickly submerged her arms in the water, sighing in relief. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped.

You grinned at your friends, stepping into the water yourself. “Shall we swim?”

The pounding of your heart against your chest was hard to ignore when Kinich slid into the spring and settled right beside you.

???) The fall that wasn’t even you

Kinich wasn’t sure what was wrong with him lately. He’d been sleeping the same, his regimented diet was unchanged, but in recent weeks, he’d found himself feeling a lot more strange.

Hunting commissions had been slow lately, so he’d taken the liberty of accepting ordinary bounties and commissions from the Adventurers’ Guild. When you’d heard about it, you’d insisted on joining him. He hadn’t had a problem with that, but since he started taking on these new commissions, Kinich had noticed that something was happening to his health.

He’d been spending a lot of time with you these days, but that couldn’t be it. How could that explain his borderline feverish symptoms? The heat that flushed his head and neck sometimes, and the weird way that his heart flipped, like it did when he went bungee jumping that one time.

And sure, those symptoms only happened when he was with you, but that was just because he was almost always with you. How could fighting a few treasure hoarders in your presence make him ill?

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ajaw growled. “You like them!”

Kinich was too surprised to scoff. “What?”

“You have a big fat crush.”

“No, I don’t.”

The little green dots in Ajaw’s eyes rolled around so hard, Kinich thought they might fall out.

“Fine! Don’t believe me, then! Even though you blush whenever you’re with them, and you stare at them when they’re talking, and you didn’t even complain when they wanted to join your commissions and you’ve been losing half the profit!”

Ajaw’s body doubled in size before he vanished in agitation. Kinich raised a hand to his chin in thought. He needed a second opinion.

“You like them,” Mualani replied simply. “It’s pretty obvious.”

Kinich blanched. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Because it is,” she grinned. “Dude, you’ve fallen hard.”

There was a twist in his stomach. The tips of his ears turned redder than a hot chili pepper.

“Come on, Kinich. You’re a smart guy. Think about the way they make you feel.”

Despite everything, despite the fact that he was, in fact, a smart guy, and he had always been sure to analyse and prepare for every outcome, and he was always weighing the costs of his relationships and seeing right through people and thinking way too much about everything—

—the realisation hit him like a tidal wave.

Oh.

Mualani grinned, satisfied. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts, then.”

Kinich barely registered her departure.

Because of course. Your relationship had never been transactional. All you ever did was give and give, and without even realising it, he’d poured his all into giving back without a moment’s hesitation. He’d never asked anything of you, nor you of him.

And because Kinich was a level-headed man, and ever-so-straightforward, there was no time wasted before he was at your front door.

If there was ever one thing he would ask of you, it was this.

“I like you, and I need to know if you feel the same.”

A grin found its home on your lips. A step forward and you closed some of the distance. The sparkle in your eyes did nothing to shake Kinich’s nerves, but it did make his stomach flip.

“Guess you’re the one falling for me now, huh?”

[seleneprince]

Tales of bats and wolves

"We're wolves, sweetheart. We stay together, hunt together and thrive together. We don't need anyone else."

Bruce Wayne has had his fair share of scandals over the years that came back to bite him in the ass. Regardless, he never expected that the whore he slept with one night would show up at his house a decade later, with the daughter they conceived...and solid proof of his family's secret identities as vigilantes. Her deal? Simple: Marry her and take them in, including her two youngest children, who aren't even his. And in return, she won't reveal the truth.

For years, this arrangement has consisted on keeping distance from each other and overall pretending one side of the family doesn't exist. The civilians enjoy the money and privileges that come from being rich, and the crime fighters barely spare them a though. Confined in opposite sides of the manor and interacting only when its necessary. After all, what bussiness do they have with a gold-digger and some kids who aren't part of their world, who don't contribute or would ever understand what they do? Not even if one is a biological daughter or sister

That's it, until they're forced to look closer, and for the first time, they notice the loopholes. The cracks. So painfully obvious, in front of them all this time. And maybe, just maybe, they realise they made a mistake. A huge one.

But are they still in time to fix it?

Do they even want to fix it...or just solve the challenge to claim their prize?

MasterList

Prologue Chapter 1

Asks:

How many Darlings are?

Damian's thoughts on the incident

The other wing of the manor

The Neglected! Family moral code

How does Jason see the Neglected! Family?

Why does N! Daughter hate Dick?

What happens between Tim and N! Daughter?

How does Cassandra view the Darlings?

Catgirl and Red Robin's dynamic

Info/Random thoughts:

The Neglected! Daughter's file

The Neglected! Wife/Stepmother's file

Half-brothers

Wife! Darling's journey to become a queenpin

The death of a big brother

Batwoman's (reluctant) sidekick

Adopted by villains

Drabbles:

Mithridatism

Colours

Blurred lines

The Batcave's housewife

If Walls Could Talk

Moodboards:

Neglected! Daughter vibes Wife! Darling vibes

Incorrect quotes:

Daddy (and brother) issues

[multific]

Claimed by the CEO

CEO!Qimir x Reader

Modern!AU

Summary: Qimir was a man who built empires, and destroyed his enemies without hesitation. He was cold, and ruthless until he saw you.

The city never slept.

Its lights flickered in the rain, neon signs casting colours across the wet pavement.

You clutched your bag tighter, stepping carefully over puddles as you looked around, completely lost.

This was supposed to be a fresh start.

A new job, a new city, a new life.

But standing on a street you didn’t recognize, with the map on your phone failing to load, it felt like a mistake.

That’s when you noticed them.

A group of men lingering across the street, watching you. Your stomach twisted, instincts screaming at you to move, but which way? You had no idea where you were going. You turned on your heel, heart hammering, and collided with something solid.

Someone.

A hand grabbed you.

A man stood before you, tall and imposing, his dark coat open just enough to reveal an expensive suit beneath. His sharp, handsome face was unreadable, but his golden-brown eyes flicked past you toward the men.

Then, his arm was around your waist.

“There you are, Babe” he murmured, voice smooth as silk. “I was looking for you.”

You blinked up at him, completely confused. “What?”

He didn’t let you finish.

Instead, he tightened his hold, guiding you toward a sleek black car parked at the curb. “Let’s go home, Darling,” he said, loud enough for the men to hear.

You swallowed hard, glancing over your shoulder. The men had stopped watching. Some turned away, disappointed. Others scowled before leaving.

Your pulse pounded in your ears as the stranger opened the passenger door.

You hesitated. “I-should I really-?”

“Get in,” he said simply.

Something about his tone left no room for argument.

You slid into the seat. He shut the door, rounded the car, and got in beside you, his movements calm and controlled. He barely looked at you as he pulled into the street, driving as if nothing had happened.

You exhaled shakily. “Okay. Um. Thanks, I guess?”

He didn’t respond.

“…Are you always this talkative?”

Still, nothing.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Well, at least tell me your name before I assume I’ve just been kidnapped."

A pause. Then, his answer, “Qimir.”

You tested the name in your mind.

It suited him, sharp and mysterious. Dangerous, even.

But he had saved you. You glanced at him. “Well, Qimir, thank you for, uh, pretending to be my boyfriend. And for not actually kidnapping me.”

He didn’t look away from the road. “Where do you live?”

You told him your address, surprised when he nodded.

He knew the area. Of course, he did, his car alone screamed money, and your apartment was on the cheaper side of town.

As he pulled up in front of your building, you hesitated. This felt like the kind of moment that would never happen again.

You didn’t know why, but you didn’t want to just walk away.

So, on impulse, you leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thanks again, Babe.” You grinned, then hopped out before you could see his reaction.

---

You didn’t expect to see him again.

Until you did.

A few days later, you stood in line for coffee, yawning, when something outside caught your eye. A familiar figure sat in a high-end restaurant across the street, alone.

Qimir.

He ate with slow precision, his expression unreadable, as if he was completely uninterested in his surroundings. And he was.

Something about the sight made you bold.

You left the coffee line and stepped into the restaurant.

The hostess barely had time to ask if you had a reservation before you spotted her and slipped into the seat across from Qimir.

He finally looked up, golden eyes locking onto yours in surprise. “What are you doing?”

You smiled. “I’m here for our date, Babe.”

For a second, he just stared at you.

You braced yourself for him to call security or tell you to leave.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he leaned back, studying you. “You’re bold.”

“I like a challenge.”

His lips twitched, almost a smile. Almost.

From that moment on, you were a part of his life.

---

Dating Qimir was unlike anything you had ever experienced.

He was quiet. Brooding.

A man who didn’t waste words or gestures.

He made his wealth known, not through bragging, but through action.

You mentioned needing new shoes? The next day, a designer pair arrived at your door.

You so much as glanced at a jewellery store window? A necklace appeared in your room.

But it wasn’t just the gifts. It was the way he watched you, the way he listened even when he seemed like he wasn’t.

You filled the silence between you with warmth, teasing him with nicknames and jokes, determined to crack his icy exterior.

And, little by little, you did.

“You’re staring again,” you teased one evening as you lay on his couch, flipping through a book he had left out.

Qimir, sitting nearby, didn’t deny it. “You talk too much.”

You grinned. “And yet, you keep me around.”

His eyes darkened slightly. “I do.”

A shiver ran down your spine. There was something about the way he said it, like a promise, a claim.

You set the book aside and moved closer, crawling onto his lap. “Do you like having me around?”

His hands found your waist, strong and certain. “More than I should.”

“Good,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

His kiss was slow, deep, and possessive.

A promise. A declaration.

You had come to the city alone, lost and uncertain. But now, with Qimir’s arms around you, you knew one thing for sure.

You had found where you belonged.

Part 2

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[bellesdomain]

Starlight Express Costume Ramblings

So I've been talking about various Starlight costumes, looking at details of specific characters, but there's some things that come up over and over and I thought it might be valuable to talk about some techniques they use, not specific to one character. I'm also totally going to miss really obvious things out on this post because... yeah...

Fabrics - most of the Starlight costumes are hand-painted, hand-printed, and custom dyed spandex fabrics. A lot of what I've seen is supershine heavy stretch satin spandex, the fabric that is known by some combination of those words! It's a good stretch, nylon blend - nylon takes dyes beautifully, polyester does not! The majority of body suits in the show are stretch fabrics, and a lot of the detailing is as well - maybe more for convenience that there's offcuts of the right colour to hand, than the details need to be made from stretch fabric.

Padding - "foam" gets mentioned a lot! But there's different types of foam for different uses.

So, Starlight is a sweaty show. Costumes need to be washed after every performance - which is a challenge with the three dimensional padded suits. The solution is filter foam - the pic here of blue fabric being stitched into rows, we can see the filter foam at the edge. This stuff is great because it's a very open structure compared to other foam, water passes right through it. It is literally meant for aquatic filters, it just happens to be very useful for costuming!

We can see the hanging samples here, of Poppa's overalls (the green speckled fabric) that it's been layered with the foam, then quilted - the costume will also have a lining of the sports mesh we can see in the other photo. This stuff is also great for quick drying, low friction so easy to pull on - important for a lining - and a strong liner. I think the white we see here is Dustin's underbody.

Underwear - the performers wear a full body unitard under the costume. Clearly this isn't hugely popular with the cast, but it's got a vital function - that layer catches all the damaging oils and skincare products, deodorant stains go on the unitard not the costume! We also see Dustin has a harness to take the weight of the big costume.

Straps and Snaps - a very common method of connecting pieces which is so simple when you know - straps that pass through D rings, and snap back onto themselves. Caboose has them particularly exposed connecting his jacket to his belt, but they're used in much more subtle places. Generally the straps will be sewn to the body suit with D rings attached to the panel when it's a matter of attaching solid to fabric, but it can go the other way it seems. The straps seem to be elastic - the stitching on them is always a stretch stitch.

Velcro and Other Fastenings - Buffy here has a big patch of soft velcro that holds her chest box central. The trouble with velcro, you can see here around the velcro patch - the rough velcro EATS spandex! Nylon/spandex fabric won't pill and go fuzzy without a lot of damage - but velcro is enough to do that damage. We can also see some damage around the patches on Ashley's knees, but in both cases, the costume piece being attached more than covers the damaged area, and sometimes velcro is just the exact connection you need and nothing else will do the job!

Kneepads - the kneepads start off with a foundation made of EVA foam. This is covered with the decorative fabrics, then a clear vacuum-formed top layer that is stitched on - that's the thread visible on the edges. Those bowls get scratched up quickly and need replacing quite frequently. The kneepads are held on with three straps - the central strap seems to be fixed, the top and bottom are adjustable to tighten properly to stay in place.

Moulded Decorations - there's a lot of wheels and buffers involved in these trains! They seem to be foam latex - although there is a relatively new mouldable eva foam product that they might well be using now, it seems to last as well as latex and no risk of allergies.

EVA Foam - I'm old, ok? I'm still reeling at the materials that used to be so hard to come by are now actively marketed at cosplayers! One of those things is EVA foam. Back in my day you had to search far and wide to get EVA foam, and cut your own bevels!

But here is the secret to the slinkies - the springs, the sharp profile ridged details. EVA foam in a triangular profile sewn into the fabric gives you the structural shapes, that are still washable. The EVA foam isn't quick drying like filter foam, but it's much stronger and holds its shape. If you were making a one-off cosplay and didn't want to make a mould for the buffers, the cones and spheres cut in half would do you well as a base...

EVA foam is also the base for most of the big costume pieces - either covered in vinyl and painted and decorated, or as the solid inside the vacuum-formed pieces.

I've not covered the skates, or wigs and helmets, what else have I missed? hopefully I've covered some useful details that might satisfy curiosity, or help with cosplay planning!

[moonlightsylph]

Emergency Commissions

tl;dr, I was in a car accident. I need help to get it back on the road if possible as my insurance isn't going to cover it. I don't know the total cost yet, will update once I do, but I'm going to set a starting goal as of now. Longer explanation and details below the read-more

This will be a Pay-as-you-Want through Ko-fi

kofi: https://ko-fi.com/moonlightsylph

----

Basics

This is the starting point, where you pick the level of what you want. From sketch (basic blocking out and concept, typically will be done in traditional pencil) to full (shading and rendering)

Sketch- pay-as-you-want (done traditionally, in pencil, before scanned/photographed to be resized and uploaded. Can also be done as digital line if preferred) Lines- pay-as-you-want (Digitally, Unless specified. If traditional, it will be done in ink. It will be scanned/photographed before resizing) Flats- pay-as-you-want (Digitally, Unless specified. If traditional, we can discuss materials wanted. It will be scanned/photographed before resizing) Full- pay-as-you-want (Digitally, Unless specified. If traditional, we can discuss materials wanted. It will be scanned/photographed before resizing)

Examples

Traditional Only: Flairs. This will be done in gold and/or silver pen to add flourishes

eaxmples:

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Background

Backround options. Simple (for me is either a solid background or a gradient. I pick the colours for this one unless you have requests.) to Basic detail (being in a room, set-dressing for the character, ect) to Complex (fighting scene, detailed background like cityscapes or nature scenes. Here you have more control on what exactly you want, instead of a generalized idea. I will complete this to the best of my ability)

Simple background- free Basic detail- pay-as-you-want Complex scenes- pay-as-you-want

Example:

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Style

Here is where we get a little creative. I've toyed with different styles and challenges. For limited pallets, you can provide me with a colour pallet you want to see me transform into your character, or I can generate a few for you to pick from.

As for the Random Blorbo, this is a fun challenge I wish to do where I build you a new character. You can give me a few details you want seen, otherwise its completely up in the air what you get.

Lineless- pay-as-you-want Limited pallets- pay-as-you-want Chibi- pay-as-you-want Random blorbo machine- pay-as-you-want [comes with two-three head shots and one full body]

Examples:

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Fun Stuff

For this section, you can have custom borders done for your personal use. Be it for framing a picture you like, to spruce up your page or blog, or to frame up a personal project you have going (example: making your own tcg, tarot card, ect)

As for the cards, this is where I create a card featuring one of your characters each. Like a tcg or a tarot, or whichever you want to see.

Ref sheets are pretty straight forward. I'll provide two-three headshots + full body + interesting facts you want included. This also included, if you wish it, personal items said character may have to showcase.

Custom borders- pay-as-you-want Cards- pay-as-you-want Ref sheets- pay-as-you-want

Avatars: pay-as-you-want

Examples:

Hello,

I know this is out of the blue, but when things happen they don't give you a forewarning.

I was involved in a car accident yesterday. Fresh with a new N, only had my car for a week to myself, I found myself hydroplaning into a traffic control post and side-swiping a car in the process.

Thankfully, they got off with cosmetic damage and a cracked tail-light as i avoided rear-ending them.

Myself, however, ended up with a banged bumper, a passenger mirror nearly beheaded and a crack radiator. Lucky, considering what could have happened, but still terrifying.

It was after this i learned that my insurance wouldn't cover the collision, meaning I'd have to cover everything out of pocket. Money I don't really have at the moment. Not with the other debts I've been steadily paying off.

I don't know the grand total yet, I'm still waiting for my car to be released so I can take it to a body shop. But from how expensive cars can be, with some insight from those around me, I can make a good guess at a "starting" amount. I'll update the total once I know though.

But I'm now asking for help. I don't expect anything for free, I will be making things in exchange. I've wanted to open commissions for a while, its just sad that what made me finally pull the trigger is when I'm in trouble. I'll link my kofi, the prices will be set to pay-as-you-want. I'll work out details for what people want, and I'll have a list of things I don't think I can do.

But I appreciate that you took the time to read this. Any help will be greatly appreciated and even if you can't, please share. If you just want to donate and not get a work in exchange, just say so in the notes. (that said, you might end up with a doodle anyways as thank you <3)

[springtyme]

farleigh start x f!reader

make it based on the party scene where he sniffs the “nose candy” off the girls hand

PLS THE FARLEIGH GIRLS ARE STARVING😫

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 ♡

Thank you for the request ♡ I know you didn’t asked for smut per se, but I got a little carried away. I hope that’s okay, and hopefully can help feed the Farleigh girls a little ♡

Farleigh Start x afab!reader || Masterlist || Farleigh playlist

summary: You can’t help but feel a rush of conflicting emotions as you stand before him. Part of you wants to turn around and walk away, to avoid the inevitable clash that always seems to occur when the two of you are in the same vicinity. But another part of you, a part that you try to keep buried deep within, is drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

word count: 4.5k

warning/tags: smut! (18+, mdni!) Language. Drug use (cocaine). Vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, blowjob, cum swallowing. Enemies to lovers (kinda?). I had pan4bi in mind when I wrote this, but readers sexually didn’t really end up getting mentioned, but Farleigh is definitely pan/queer like in canon. This whole thing kinda started out as one thing but turned into something completely different, so just to clear any possible confusion. Reader is best friends with Venetia, being childhood friends with her and Felix, and that is how she knows Fairleigh. Reader is enrolled in a university in Cambridge, unlike Fairleigh who is in Oxford. No proofreading.

The dimly lit room is illuminated by a dazzling array of colourful lights, flickering and dancing in sync with the music. The deep reverberations of the bass are sending tremors through your body, a pulsating rhythm thumping within your chest, and even piercing your eardrums, but in the best way possible. 

The scent of spilled drinks and way too expensive perfumes and colognes are hanging in the air, mixing with the distinct smell of sweat that, no matter what, or no matter how rich you are, you’ll never be able to avoid when this many people are in one place, drinking and dancing at once. It’s filling the space with a raw, primal energy, an energy which you can feel resonate within you, right into the very marrow of your bones. 

You find yourself surrendering to the music, letting it guide your every movement as you roll your hips to the beat, grinding against the solid body behind you, enjoying the feeling of big strong hands on your waist. You don’t know his name and you like it that way. You’ve been needing this, it’s finally summer, you’re finally on break and away from Cambridge and you have every intent of enjoying it to the fullest. 

As you let yourself be carried away by the music and the pulsating energy of the room, your eyes wander around the crowd. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, your gaze meets the eyes of someone familiar, someone you had hoped to avoid, despite knowing it wouldn’t be possible. 

As your gaze locks with his, a mix of emotions floods through you. A wave of annoyance washes over you, quickly followed by a surge of frustration. 

Fucking Farleigh, the embodiment of everything you despise, stands across the room, his tall frame towering over the crowd. He’s always been a thorn in your side, pushing your buttons and challenging you at every turn. The tension between you has always been palpable, a constant battle of wits and wills.

The memories of countless arguments and bitter exchanges flood your mind, reminding you of all the reasons why you can’t stand him. Farleigh, with his arrogant smirk, like he always knows something that you don’t know, and his condescending remarks, has always managed to get under your skin. And now, here he is, invading your sanctuary of escape. 

And yet, and this is something you would never admit out loud to anyone, you have always felt strangely drawn to him, a magnetic pull that you’ve never been able to fully understand. A complicated connection, really, filled with both desire and deep annoyance.

You tear your eyes away, trying to regain your composure and ignore the magnetic pull drawing you towards him. You focus your attention back on the music, trying to lose yourself in its enchanting melody and forget about Farleigh’s presence. The pulsating beats and the heat of the body pressing against yours conspire to distract you, urging you to let go and revel in the moment. You move with more intensity, swaying your hips and allowing your body to glide effortlessly with the rhythm.

But despite your attempts to ignore him, Farleigh’s image persists in your mind, and it is as if you can feel his piercing eyes on you, burning your skin. The curiosity battles with your annoyance, leaving you conflicted and uncertain.

As the music reaches a crescendo, you can’t resist the pull any longer. With a mix of defiance and determination, you break away from the stranger behind you, making your way through the crowd in Farleigh’s direction. Not because you want to speak to him, of course not, you just want to find Venetia, Farleigh just happens to stand right next to the door.  

As you approach Farleigh, you can’t help but notice the way his eyes follow your every move. A flicker of amusement dances in his gaze, as if he knows the effect he has on you. Just as you’re about to pass him, Farleigh steps in front of you, a sly smile playing on his lips, the strobe lights flickering across his face, highlighting his features with pink and purple, and you feel how a warm flutter swoops through your stomach. Someone who is that annoying really don’t have any business being that handsome. 

You try to step past him, but he moves with a frustrating grace, blocking your path once more. “What do you want, Farleigh?” you huff, your tone laced with impatience. 

But he doesn’t answer you at first, instead, he just keeps the weird little dance going, with you trying to push past him to get through the door, and him stepping in front of you, blocking your way, until you finally take a step back, glaring up at him and you can’t help but feel a rush of conflicting emotions as you stand before him like this. 

Part of you wants to turn around and walk away, to avoid the inevitable clash that always seems to occur when the two of you are in the same vicinity. But another part of you, a part that you try to keep buried deep within, is drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and it fucking frustarites you.

His voice, when he finally speaks, is a low, velvety whisper that resonates deep within your core. “Long time no see,” he says, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The scent of his cologne invades your senses, stirring up a confusing mixture of attraction and deep irritation. 

With a deep breath, you muster up all the strength you have and respond, trying to match his nonchalant tone. “I was actually hoping to keep it that way,” you reply, crossing your arms.

Farleigh’s smirk widens slightly, and you can see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Well, that I find a little hard to believe. We are in my house, aren’t we?” he remarks, leaning in closer, his voice dripping with a hint of sarcasm.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, knowing that it would only fuel his satisfaction. Instead, you take a moment to study him. His sharp features are highlighted by the colourful lights surrounding you. Despite your frustration with him, there’s no denying that he has a certain magnetism that draws people in. “I wouldn’t exactly say it’s your house.” You retort, raising an eyebrow. “More like uncle’s house, isn’t it?”

Farleigh chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “Touché,” he says, his voice laced with amusement. “But you can’t deny that it’s my domain.”

You scoff, unable to resist a small smirk. “Domain? More like your little playground.”

His eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of challenge in his gaze. “Funny, because I always thought you were the one who loved a good game.”

The air between you crackles with tension, the familiar dance of wit and banter that has always characterised your interactions. Despite your annoyance with Farleigh, there’s a part of you that thrives on the exhilaration of this verbal sparring. “Maybe I do, but I have no interest in playing with you.”

Farleigh’s smirk fades slightly, replaced by a look of genuine curiosity. “No interest at all?” he asks, his voice laced with a hint of intrigue. “I find that hard to believe. You’ve always seemed to enjoy our little tête-à-têtes.”

You resist the urge to let your guard down, refusing to let him see how much his words affect you. “Just because I enjoy a challenge doesn’t mean I enjoy dealing with you,” you reply, your tone sharp and dismissive.

Farleigh’s gaze intensifies, his eyes searching yours as if trying to uncover a hidden truth. “Is that so?” he says, his voice low and velvety. “Because I have a feeling there’s more to it than that. I think you actually enjoy the tension between us, the push and pull.”

You scoff, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling that his words are hitting too close to home. “You think too highly of yourself,” you retort, attempting to sound unaffected by his observation.

Farleigh takes a step closer, his presence seeming to fill the space between you. “Maybe,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I also think you’re intrigued by me. Admit it, there’s a part of you that wants to know what it would be like to give in to that pull.”

Your heart races at his words, a mixture of anger and desire swirling within you. “You’re delusional,” you snap, your voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

Farleigh’s expression softens, his eyes searching yours with a newfound tenderness. “Am I?” he murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity. The intensity of his gaze leaves you momentarily speechless, your mind racing to make sense of the conflicting emotions coursing through you. You’ve spent so long trying to resist him, to keep him at a distance, but now, in this moment, it feels impossible to deny the undeniable connection between you.

Farleigh leans in closer, his breath warming your ear as he speaks. “You can pretend all you want, but I see right through you.” His voice is laced with a mixture of confidence and mystery that sends a shiver down your spine. Suddenly, all the people around you disappear, the only thing that matters in that moment is the charged tension between you and Farleigh. It’s as if you’re existing in a world of your own, completely detached from reality.

You can’t resist the pull any longer. “Oh, can you now..?” You murmur, slowly, you reach out your hand to wipe a stray piece of glitter away from under his eye, letting your thumb gently graze his cheek. His eyes darken with a mix of surprise and anticipation, his lips parting slightly as if attempting to say something. But before a single word can escape, you close the distance between you, pressing your lips against his in a passionate, desperate kiss. 

Everything around you fades away as the electricity between you ignites, the world falling away as you become enraptured by the intensity of the moment. All the pent-up frustration and desire explode in that single act of surrender and defiance.

In this moment, you can no longer deny the complicated connection that exists between you. The magnetic pull, the mix of desire and annoyance, it all becomes clearer as you lose yourself in the kiss. The room around you becomes a blur, the music and the crowd transformed into mere background noise.

The kiss breaks, leaving you both breathless and gasping for air, but the connection remains. You meet Farleigh’s gaze, a smouldering fire burning in his eyes. And in that silent exchange, the tension and chemistry between you cannot be ignored any longer. 

Farleigh’s lips curl into a satisfied smile, his eyes never leaving yours. “I knew you couldn’t resist me,” he whispers, his voice husky with desire.

You raise an eyebrow, a mixture of amusement and defiance in your expression. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” you retort, trying to regain your composure. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

Farleigh’s smile widens, and he takes a step closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “Oh, it means something, alright,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a tantalising promise. 

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, a rush of anticipation flooding through you. As much as you want to deny it, there’s a part of you that craves the excitement and intensity that comes with being with Farleigh. You know it won’t be easy, and there will be challenges along the way, but you can’t help but be drawn to him.

With a mix of determination and vulnerability, you lean in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. “Fine, it does mean something,” you whisper, your voice filled with both defiance and longing. As the words escape your lips, you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. The intensity between you and Farleigh has reached its breaking point, and you both know it. Without saying a word, you take Farleigh’s hand and lead him out of the room and through the big, crowded house searching for a place of solitude, finally finding it in the form of an unoccupied bathroom on the second floor. 

The sounds of the party fade into the background as you step inside, the quietness amplifying the intensity of the moment. Farleigh takes a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks, his voice low and filled with a mix of concern and desire.

You meet his gaze, your own eyes filled with a mix of uncertainty and longing. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I want to find out.” 

Farleigh’s lips curl into a knowing smile, the fiery desire in his eyes never wavering. He takes another step closer, closing the distance between you, his hand inching up to gently cup your cheek. You can feel the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, electrifying every nerve in your body.

In that moment, any last doubt or hesitation you might have felt fades away as the intense pull between you becomes undeniable. You lean into his touch, closing your eyes and letting yourself get lost in the moment. His thumb caresses your cheek, and his voice, filled with a mixture of longing and assurance, whispers, “I’ll make it worth it.”

A surge of anticipation courses through your veins as Farleigh’s thumb brushes against your lips, tracing their outline with a delicate touch. Without even thinking, your own hand finds its way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. The air around you is heavy with desire and expectation.

As your lips collide once again, the passion between you ignites, consuming you both in a fiery haze. The bathroom echoes with the rapid beating of your hearts and the soft gasps that escape your lips. Farleigh’s kiss is both tender and intense, his lips moving against yours with a fervour that matches your own. This single act of surrender has unleashed a whirlwind of emotions, leaving you craving more. 

You start to walk backwards, until your back gently bumps into the vanity cabinet of the sink, without breaking the kiss even once. You first break the kiss as Farleigh’s hands find your hips, helping you jump up the counter. Your already short dress, hiking even higher up your thigh as you spread your legs to let him step in between them. “You got any nose candy?” you pant, making Farleigh chuckle, his breath warm against your lips as he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“I think you already know the answer, don’t you?” he replies, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and desire. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small vial of white powder and setting it on the counter.

He carefully measures out a small amount of the powder, offering it to you on the back of his hand. You take a deep breath, feeling a rush of nerves mixed with excitement. With only a very short flicker of hesitation, you lean in, snorting the powder through your nose. The effects are immediate, a surge of warmth and euphoria washing over you.

Farleigh takes your hand, putting the vial to it to make a line for himself, but you stop him before any of the coke has left the container. “No, here.” You say, placing your hand behind you on the counter and leaning back, exposing your bare collarbone, inviting him to snort the line off your skin. Farleigh’s eyes widen, clearly liking your suggestion, his gaze locked on the vulnerable expanse of your skin before a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips, lining up a stripe for himself.   

As he leans in, his breath tickles your skin. His fingers, delicate and precise, trace the line of the cocaine on your collarbone before he leans down, his lips brushing against your skin as he inhales the white powder. A shiver races through your body at the touch of his lips against your sensitive skin, the combination of the drug’s rush and Farleigh’s proximity sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. You both linger in this moment, caught between desire and the heightened state induced by the substance. Everything in the bathroom seems to fade away as you focus on the connection between you and Farleigh - the electric current that flows between your bodies, the shared need for a temporary escape. Farleigh pulls back, his eyes dark and heavy with desire as he locks his gaze with yours. 

“Come here,” you all but moan, making him chuckle. The lingering scent of his luxurious cologne fills the air, prompting you to inch closer on the countertop, savouring every breath of him. You reach out, pulling Farleigh closer as you crash your lips together once more, the kiss growing even more passionate and heated than before. And as the kiss deepens even more, Farleigh’s hands start to explore your body, one trailing up your thigh while the other gently cups your cheek. Your own hands roam eagerly over his frame, feeling the heat and power emanating from him.

The bathroom becomes a blur of sensations, the feel of his hands on you, the taste of his lips on yours, the intoxicating scent of his cologne surrounding you. Time seems to lose all meaning as you lose yourself in the moment, giving in to the intoxicating combination of pleasure and desire. As he finally breaks the kiss, his lips trail a path down your neck, leaving a trail of sweet kisses in their wake. The heat between you builds with each passing moment, every touch and caress leaving you craving for more.

As Farleigh’s lips find their way to the sensitive curve of your collarbone, you let out a soft gasp, a jolt of pleasure shooting through your body, his touch igniting a fire within you. His hands roam over your thigh, inching higher and higher, until he reaches the delicate fabric of your now soaked panties, carefully teasing and brushing against your most sensitive area. Your breath hitches in anticipation as his touch sends a surge of arousal coursing through you.

Unable to contain your desire any longer, you guide his hand to where you need him most, sliding your panties to the side. His fingers waste no time in exploring, gently parting your slick folds and finding your throbbing clit. Soft moans escape your lips as he circles his fingers around your sensitive bud, the pleasure building with every stroke. “Damn, you’re so wet,” he whispers huskily, his voice laced with desire. His fingers skillfully dance along your swollen nub, expertly coaxing you closer and closer to the edge. 

The bathroom becomes a sanctuary of pleasure and intimacy as Farleigh expertly works his fingers, gradually increasing the rhythm and pressure. You tilt your head back, surrendering yourself completely to the ecstasy flooding your senses. You arch your back, pressing yourself closer to his hand, eager for more. The need for release consumes you, the overwhelming sensation heightening with each passing second. Farleigh, ever attuned to your desires, gives you exactly what you crave. His fingers quicken their pace, increasing the pressure against your throbbing clit, using his other hand to push, first one, then two, fingers into your craving cunt, pumping into you, while still working your clit. 

Lost in the blissful haze, you feel your walls tighten around his fingers, signalling your imminent release. Every touch becomes electrifying as you chase that elusive peak. And when the wave of pleasure crashes over you, it’s all-consuming. Your body trembles with the force of your orgasm, your moans echoing off the bathroom walls. 

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” he whispers, his voice raw with desire as he continues to ride out your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure with his skilled fingers. He keeps his touch steady and relentless, expertly drawing out every ounce of bliss from your pulsing core. It’s a relentless dance of pleasure and sensation, leaving you gasping for breath as the ecstasy courses through your veins.

Farleigh withdraws his fingers, the absence of his touch leaves you yearning for more. He brings them to his mouth sucking off your juices. “Fuck… you taste good, I think I need to get a better taste, baby” he smirks. 

“Please, Farleigh,” you hate that you’re begging, but fuck how you need more of him. “N-need more…” you squirm a little in your seat, squeezing your thighs together in anticipation. Farleigh smirks again, unlike you he is clearly very glad to hear how pleading and desperate you are for him. 

He sinks to his knees before you and slowly pulls your soaked panties down your legs, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable before him all the while keeping eye contact with you. Without a word, he leans in, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin. His lips brush against your inner thighs, teasingly light and gentle, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you. As his mouth moves closer to your throbbing core, you grip the edge of the counter, desperately trying to steady yourself. 

The anticipation is almost unbearable, the teasing kisses and licks making you ache for more. Finally, his lips press against your clit, his tongue immediately finding its rhythm as he expertly swirls and flicks, drawing moans of pleasure from deep within you. Each flick of his tongue sends shockwaves of ecstasy through your body, building the pleasure to dizzying heights. He alternates between delicate licks and sucking motions, knowing exactly how to drive you wild. The sensation is overwhelming, and you lose yourself in a haze of pleasure. 

The sounds of your moans fill the room, your pleasure echoing off the walls. You can feel the pressure building inside you, your climax approaching rapidly. And just when you think you can’t hold on any longer, the dam breaks, and you surrender to the powerful waves of your orgasm. Stars explode behind your closed eyelids as your body convulses with pleasure, your voice reaching heights you didn’t know were possible. 

Farleigh doesn’t let up, continuing to lap at your sensitive clit, prolonging your ecstasy until you’re completely spent. As the waves of pleasure subside, he pulls away, a satisfied grin on his face as he looks up at you, his lips glistening with your essence. You struggle to catch your breath, your entire body still trembling from the intensity of your release as Farleigh gets up from the floor. You close your eyes for a second, as you take in the reality you’re living in now, a reality where you have been eaten out by Farleigh fucking Start, and now in this moment you almost can’t recall why you ever disliked him.  

As your body slowly comes down from the heights of pleasure, you open your eyes again, breathing heavily, to find Farleigh staring at you with hunger in his eyes. His own desire is evident, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. Reaching out, you grab hold of his shirt, pulling him closer. “Your turn,” you say, your voice vibrating with anticipation.

A mischievous smile plays on his lips as he realises what you have in mind. Without a word, he unbuttons his shirt, revealing a toned chest. He shrugs off his shirt, allowing it to fall to the floor as he confidently steps out of his shoes. Every movement he makes is deliberate, a display of raw sensuality that only intensifies your desire for him.

With a mixture of excitement and confidence, you jump down from the counter and step toward Farleigh, your legs feel like jelly, but you don’t let that stop you. Your hands find their way to the waistband of his trousers, fingers skillfully unfastening them. As his trousers pool at his feet, you run your hands up his muscular thighs, feeling the contours of his body beneath your touch.

Your gaze flickers upward, locking eyes with Farleigh, the intensity in his gaze mirrored in your own. Without breaking eye contact, you drop to your knees, fully engulfed in the moment. You trail kisses along his inner thighs, teasing and taunting him. His breath hitching with every kiss, the anticipation in the room building with each passing moment.

As you reach his hardened cock, you wrap your fingers around him, feeling his heat and the pulsing desire that emanates from him. He is big; girthy, with a nice vein lining the underside of his shaft. Your tongue flicks out to taste him, eliciting a low growl from his throat, before you pool spit in your mouth, letting it fall from your mouth and down his shaft. With a combination of skill and eagerness, your mouth encloses around him, the heat and wetness enveloping him. 

As your lips slide up and down his length, you can feel him growing even harder, his breaths becoming more ragged. You use your hand in synchronisation with your mouth, working him tirelessly, determined to bring him to the brink of release, moaning around his cock while breathy praises leaves his mouth.

The bathroom becomes a symphony of moans and heavy breaths as the pleasure builds between you. Your lips and tongue work magic, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. And when he finally succumbs to the overwhelming ecstasy, he spills himself into your waiting mouth, his moans of pleasure echoing off the bathroom walls.

You take him in, savouring the taste of him as his release warms your mouth as you swallow him up. It’s an act of trust and vulnerability, something you, just an hour ago, could never have imagined to be between the two of you. As he finally catches his breath, his hands gently lift your chin, guiding you back to your feet.

Your eyes meet, a shared understanding passing between you. “You know, uh…” you start, Taking in a deep breath. “Venetia asked me to stay for a bit, I’ll be here at Saltburn for the next two weeks.” you whisper, letting the implication of your words hang in the air for a moment.

Farleigh’s eyes widen with surprise, a mixture of excitement and hope flickering in his gaze. He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your cheek. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you can see the longing in his eyes.

“Two weeks?” he repeats, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and anticipation. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

You smile, a mix of mischief and desire in your gaze. “I’m saying that we have two weeks to explore this... connection between us,” you reply, your voice filled with a tantalising promise. “But let’s make one thing clear, Farleigh. This doesn’t mean that I like you now,” and you hate how it isn’t really true. 

Farleigh’s smile widens as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “I guess I have two weeks to change that.”

Thank you for reading! If you want, please leave a comment or reblog to let me know what you thought of it ♡

[l0vegl0wsinthedark]

Draw Drarry Badly Challenge 2025

*

I did it! I DID IT! HERE IS MY ENTRY!

This is based on an idea given to me by @m4g0rtz ❤️

Thank you for reminding me how much I enjoy sucking at art @julcheninred ❤️

*

Title: THE INEXORABLE APPROACH OF THE DAY aka WHY SHOULD BRIDES HAVE ALL THE FUN aka DRACO MALFOY GETS WHAT HE WANTS (including Harry Potter (who is hopelessly smitten))

*ominous music*

"All right, darling," said Draco. "Today we get our MOSTE IMPORTANTE wedding shopping done. Are you ready to start?"

"I'm ready to finish," said Harry.

"Excellent. First things first. Bloomers."

"What."

"Bloomers, darling. Satin bloomers."

"Is that a sex thing?"

"Harry. No. We'll wear them atop our stockings."

"Sto-?"

"Come along now."

"I think pink is your true colour, my love," said Draco sincerely.

"I don't want to wear frilly undershorts."

"Bloomers, darling. And we have to."

"Why."

"Tradition!"

"I don't think anyone will know if we don't wear these."

"Of course they will! The elders always check under the grooms' robes before the ceremony."

"The elders do what?!"

"Next up: our wedding robes! Aren't you excited?!"

"NO."

"You look wonderful, darling!" gushed Draco.

"All this frill. Why?"

"Tradition!"

"Why are we on fire," asked Harry.

"In-built sparklers!"

"We're on fire."

"It's magic! Honestly, Harry! You're still such a Muggle sometimes."

"These colours... I don't even know where to start.

"Eye-catching, yes?!"

"They're all going to have a stroke."

"We're going to stand out!"

"Yes, outside Mungo's, while our guests are admitted for a collective stroke."

"Yes, these are perfect! Next: our custom made boots!"

"Shit."

"Yes! That's the spirit!"

"What do you think?" asked Draco. "I thought we'd both go with green. You know... For your eyes, and my Hogwarts house!"

"...there are flowers on mine."

"Real ones! Charmed to stay fresh forever!"

"Flowers. On my shoes."

"Beautiful, aren't they? They were Longbottom's idea!"

"I never thought I'd kill Neville some day, but here we are."

"What do you think of mine?"

"They have feathers on them."

"Peacock feathers, darling. Because I'm a Malfoy."

"Why can't I have feathers?!"

"Because you get flowers."

"Why do we need to put anything on them?! They're SHOES."

"Tradition, Harry. Stop yelling!"

"I'm not--"

"Next: HATS!"

"Now you're yelling."

"Aaahh! I've waited 30 years to try on my wedding hat!" said Draco.

"Why do they have curtains."

"They're veils, darling."

"I can't see."

"I'll hold your hand, see?"

"I don't want to wear this cone-curtain contraption on my head."

"Well, you have to."

"Why?!"

"TRADITION!" bellowed Draco.

"I DON'T W--"

"NEXT: OUR NECKLACES!"

"NOOO!"

"Emeralds for me. Rubies for you, darling."

"..."

"This is pure, solid gold."

"..."

"You love them so much that you're speechless?! Well done, me!"

*silent choking noises"

(BONUS:)

"All right. Now we take our best men to get them their bloomers. Blaise is meeting us there. Call Weasley and give me the phonic."

"..."

"Give me that. Weasley, it's me, Draco Lucius Malfoy. Come get fitted for your lace bloomers at once!"

~fini~

[bouquetface]

Tarot PAC: How is Your Ex-Friend Doing Right Now?

How to choose a Pile?

The first section of each pile provides a description of the friend based on tarot. Or simply choose the photo that most reminds you of your friend if you’re hoping for a reading on a specific ex-friend.

1-2

Pile 1.

Who is this person? [This section is to find out if the reading is for you based on if this description fits any of your exes.]

This seems like a feminine energy. She is young. When you knew her, she was likely a homebody/introvert type. But inside she wanted to be out there partying and making memories. She likely had a lot of FOMO. You were probably each other’s day 1s - seems like you go way back.

What’s She Doing Right Now?

She wanted life experience - travelling, partying, romance, etc. It seems she got it. She is coming out of a tiring but fulfilling period. She probably went very HARD at initially putting herself out there. Maybe drank too much, might’ve had some bad hookups, might’ve spent too much $$$, might’ve gotten into some dramas & lost some solid relationships.

You might’ve fell out during this period. Maybe you weren’t interested in that lifestyle. Or you were but that lifestyle just brought too much drama into your lives.

Potential words of significance: “bitch” “snake”. Your fall out might’ve been intense. Maybe you both said things about each other or to each other that are embarrassing now. It was a period of pettiness, insecurity, jealousy, comparing lives & struggling to grow up.

I think she wouldn’t mind hearing from you. She is now fulfilled with making up for the experience she felt she was missing out on. She might be trying to get back to herself right now. Reflect and rethink her priorities and goals.

The lyrics “Had a heart, man, I’m tryna get it back” came up when I was writing. Maybe Blackbear or 2017 when this song was realized was releveant to you guys.

I must warn she isn’t exactly looking to go back to her old self tho. She is embracing her new and old self. And she is likely thinking of the long-term future now. She’s done with short term pleasure.

Some possible scenarios that come to mind - might be trying to drop some bad habits like vaping + excessive drinking. Might be trying to save some money, think about career + future in the long-term. Reflecting on her love life + what they want going forward.

Pile 2.

Who is this person? [This section is to find out if the reading is for you based on if this description fits any of your exes.]

This is a childhood friend. Someone who might’ve felt like a sister/brother/family - and for some specific people, I think this might be a cousin you were good friends with in childhood.

You likely separated due to conflict based in impulsiveness or carelessness. There could have been a miscommunication or misunderstanding.

Examples: Someone doesn’t offer support in a time of need, the other takes it as the other showing their “true colours”.

Or someone simply didn’t put in the effort to maintain the friendship - ignored texts, calls, excuses to not hang out/speak.

Basically, it boils down to “You’re not there when I need you”.

What Are They Doing Right Now?

They are undergoing a fated event right now. The Wheel of Fortune indicates this is something out of their control. It is somewhat of a stressful event. Maybe a move, they have to go this place, it’s a part of their destiny. 

For someone very specific, this person is having a kid right now. It likely wasn’t planned but they are still trying to make the best of the situation. They may have received some negative judgement but they are focused on being resilient.

The event is brining in a new emotional start, they are working on preserving through the challenges. They are making wishes for a better future. They are making preparations for the future.

Due to the stress of the current situation, I don’t think they’d be open to reconnecting with you. Their focus is entirely on making it through this current situation. They’re probably closed off to a lot of people right now.

[officialnostradamus]

A Word With Friends | June 16th

Hello, all! I dipped out of tumblr Sunday so I could actually write (tbh, it only slightly worked but I did manage not to be on tumblr much!). But, I've returned to share this week's A Word With Friends! Thank you to @hedwigoprah for originating this wonderful game for our community and thank you to @jenn2d2 for hosting last week 🧡

Rules: Use the challenge word to write a sentence or scene and then tag a few friends.

This week's word is:

Assiduously

Showing great care, attention, and effort : marked by careful unremitting attention or persistent application

Constantly; ceaselessly.

Happy writing, friends!!

(I am unreasonably worried somehow this word has already been used and I just missed it but, if so, oh well, I guess!)

Submission beneath the cut; 900 Words, RATED M (You know its EmmRook)

It's a little cut content from Falling Fearless that I decided not to keep in, but this was a good excuse to finish writing it :>

Restricting himself to the meditation chamber at least kept him from pushing his way into Emmrich’s needed space. He’d used enough power that his constant shower of sparks occasionally had colour, and he had to keep flicking it away, but he was wound too tightly to sleep. Once he’d stripped out of his armor he sat in front of the windowed wall and coaxed his eager magic into shapes, illusions that mimicked the fish swirling behind the glass or the twisting fingers of coral. They were flimsy, translucent, never solid enough to fool anyone but Rook had always liked the exercise. 

It was a gentler use of his needy magic. It wanted to be felt, to be used, that’s why it flowed through his body in perpetual waves. That didn’t mean it didn’t need a break from time to time, and Rook thought sculpting the artful curve of a fin had to count for something. Besides, Manfred and the wisps seemed to get a kick out of it, with cute little titters and excited clapping. Rook was grateful Manfred hadn’t followed along with them this time. Even if he wouldn’t have been in danger, Rook didn’t know enough about any of it to be sure, he couldn’t imagine how the tormented spirits would have affected him. 

Emmrich would have been so worried. 

The illusion in his palm flickered and twisted, the shape softening into something familiar. Five delicate petals on a dainty stem. If he were any good at colour, they would be purple. A variegated weeping widower. Rook huffed, letting the breath take the illusion with it, like snuffing a candle. His head made a heavy thunk against the wall, harder than he meant and almost soothing for it. Pushing Emmrich from his mind was a heavier task than he’d imagined, and his antsy energy hadn’t abated. The simple thought of him brought a flood, a warm wash, hands on his body and lips over his, and - damn.

It was familiar enough, the sudden frisson of desire accompanied by the obvious thought. This space didn’t feel like his, it barely felt private, but he was technically alone. Besides the fish, but they were at his back. Then there was the guilt. Jerking off while the world was collapsing seemed just the kind of selfish thing he would do. Especially when the need was only so wild because Emmrich’s mouth had turned kindling want into an inferno. Rook’s breath was already coming faster and his heart thrummed against his ribs. It couldn’t hurt to take the edge off.

Rook glanced around the room as though he had to check. No one was there, of course. He hadn’t locked the door. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure it had a lock. It wasn’t as if anyone had ever wandered in. Nerves aside, heat had already settled low in his belly and his knees fell open expectantly, his oversized shirt pooling between his thighs.

“Okay,” Rook breathed to himself, a required acknowledgement. This was happening, and he could feel guilty about it later. 

Thinking about Emmrich wasn’t initially the intent, it was just hard to avoid. His hand started at his neck, pushing the messy fall of his hair out of the way and he remembered Emmrich doing the same. How gentle he’d been when healing, warmth bent over him, breath against his temple and the echo of his words - take care of yourself, Rook - suddenly felt like direction. 

The memory guided him as he flicked through the buttons on his shirt, but he was more lascivious. Caution and care were intentionally thrust aside so that the pads of his fingers brushed over his skin. Patience had never suited him, though the idea fluttered through his mind that Emmrich would be patient. Emmrich would touch him assiduously, and it had been so long since anyone had touched him. Rook whimpered, a ghost of sound in an empty room, and he bit his lip to quell it. 

Good, because his impatience was showing and he muffled a gasp as the heel of his hand pressed over the growing heat between his thighs. His hips rocked up, so eager for anything at all that it would have been easy to take the pleasure and run. Rook slowed only because it was Emmrich’s voice in his ear. A whisper of patience and he shuddered, forcing himself to put in the effort. 

It did feel good to be bare. The air was just cool enough to prickle his skin and raise bumps on the sensitive flesh of his thighs. There was only so much fervor Rook could contain and he was indulgent, drawing his hot palm from his throat down his chest, lingering to rub over his pebbled nipples until the nails of his other hand were biting into his leg. His body was already swelling with sensation, ripe, and - 

The sudden crash of a fist against his door, urgent pounding set a fire of adrenaline through Rook’s veins. 

“Rook.” It was Taash, explaining the weight of the knocks. “Demon’s at it again!” 

Which meant Lucanis. 

“I’ll be right there!” Rook scrambled to put himself back into order, hissing at how it tortured his skin to drag fabric back over it. He blew out a flustered breath before dragging in another. “Patience,” he reminded himself out loud, and at least he could make himself laugh.

**I'm so rude to cut him off like that but so be it!

Gently tagging some of the people I know have been playing along and a few others 🧡 @blackwall-my-tiny-husband-main @seaglassmelody @woundedsoul12 @soeasilyswayed @crimsen-khalessi @crowtoed @edvervain @dragonagehyperfixationwoo @notyourmamasdeerbat @davrinsleftpectoral @serstolas @mythals-whore

[kana-daydreams]

ms. delinquent || sakura | humour | 0.8k

°*:･ᰔeveryone, but sakura, knows you're a girl.

tags: cross-dresser!f!reader. tall!f!reader. gender stereotyping. mild swearing.

wbrk masterlist

The soles of your well-worn black sneakers skid back to a screeching stop; your gakuran, coloured the same and thrown casually over your shoulders, billowing behind you like a cape against rushing wind.  

Further to your left, a chorus of male voices erupts. They bellow your name in exuberant cheer when you manage to dodge, with practised ease, the strong arm that intentionally hurtles a fist towards your face; while others egg on your split-tone haired opponent and junior who continues to throw punch after punch at you across the courtyard of your school— the infamous Furin High. 

“Going soft, already? Don't tell me yer thinkin' about backing out.” Sakura teases with a wide grin when you gather some distance between you both. “Thought you were the second-years’ Top Dog?!” he adds, his predatory grin growing further before he starts sprinting in your direction, lunging at you with a raised fist.

Just like you, Sakura was determined. Determined to find out who was the strongest between you two.

Determined to be the strongest.

He’d posed the challenge of a duel after he witnessed yesterday with his own eyes, you practically eliminate an entire squadron of guys twice your size without a single scratch marking your surprisingly flawless skin. And kept on pestering you the entire day like a petulant child that didn’t get their way, until they did.

Well...it wasn't as if you weren't itching for a fight with the emotionally reactive teen who’d defeated Shishitoren’s second-in-command.

So why not indulge him?

You scoff. "Who said anything about backing out?” Your body twists to the side, evading his punch and you slip behind him, your hand catching a hold of both his wrists. You pin them firmly against his back, then lean down slightly, lips inches away from his right ear. “Huh? Kitty cat.” You drawl and Sakura’s body involuntarily shudders at your warm breath, ticklish against his ear.

Your lips curve into an amused smile as you watch the tip of his ear colour a deep red, before he forces himself free from your grasp.

“D-Don't call me that, y-you creep?!” He springs back, arms up and fingers curled into fists, in defence. 

“Aww, but you're such an easy tease.” You coo, clutching your stomach, unable to stifle your fits of laughter. “It’s cute.”

Sakura growls at your words. “Ain’t nothin’ cute about me! If anyone’s cute, it’s you, pretty boy!” 

His words catch you off-guard, your lips forming a small ‘O’, heat warming at your cheeks. You peer down, bashful from his 'compliment'.  “You think…” You squirm, voice soft almost timid as you raise a shy gaze to look across at him. “You think, I’m cu—” A sudden force barrels into your stomach and you feel as if all the air has been knocked out your lungs.

Your face scrunches and a grunt falls from your frowning lips when you notice the smug look on Sakura's—your assailant—face, your body falling backwards from the force.

“Heh, that’s what you—”

“You asshole!”

Sakura feels a tight grip pull on his shirt, his blue and yellow eyes drawing wide. 

“If I fall—you fall!”

 And he does— directly on top of you.

His head lies buried against your stomach, his nose catching a muted floral scent, both your limbs tangled together.  

Sakura groans and his hands attempt to find purchase to pull himself up. But when they do, they cup something soft…squishy? And definitely not solid ground. 

Your breath hitches. Sakura freezes. Everything and everyone stills—silence.

Sakura feels a shock ripple through his body, and the hairs on his skin standing tall like soldiers. 

He lurches…? Scurries back, seemingly teleporting as far as he can away from you, and points a finger, wiggling it aggressively in your direction. "W-why is t-there a lump of f-fat on your chest?!"

You push yourself up on your elbows, before sitting fully upright. "Why do you think, dumbass?" You mumble, heat fanning lightly across your face.

And when it clicks—your floral scent, your plush chest masked by an oversized white shirt, and the softness of your body underneath him— Sakura’s ready to combust from all the heat burning underneath his skin.

He looks up at you. He looks down back at his deflowered hand and then up at you again, his lips refusing to cease their relentless quiver. “Y-You’re a g-girl?” He swallows thickly, the feeling of the full mound of your boob he'd attempted to use as leverage, still tingling in the palm of his hand.

You confirm his question with a single nod.

"I just...my hand was...it touched—"

"My breast?"

Sakura sucks in a breath, his face growing impossibly more red. He then clears his throat in a futile attempt to collect himself. “...But how? Are you sure you're a woman?" He arches a brow. "T-There must be a mistake. You've always seemed so...so rough. Way to aggressive and so mas—”

Sakura never gets to finish his sentence when his mismatched eyes cross, and he doubles over in pain from the powerful punch that meets him square in the stomach.

© 2024 kana-daydreams

[njade-24]

Gingerbrave, the bravest cookie in all of Earthbread and the first to escape the Witch's oven. This little cookie wields a sugarcane, rushing into hoards of enemies without an ounce of fear in his dough. A beacon of hope for all on his side.

So, Gingerbrave Cookie was born as a result of the Witch accidentally adding magic powder instead of ginger powder into the though.

This simple fact led of the birth of one of the strangest cookies in all of Earthbread!

First of all, Gingerbrave doesn't even have a flavour. He is just a plain old cookie made up of a 100% bravery. Second of all, the Witch baked with magic powder, not life powder, so he deviates evn more from what regular cookies are.

Gingerbrave has no jam. None. He is just dough. Flavourless dough at that. His lack of flavour means he can donate dough to other cookies when they are greatly wounded, and whatever he cuts off will eventually grow back so long as it isn't too much. This also mean that when he absorbs a bit of other cookies flavour, he can sort of resonate with them. A strange form of mind control that he uses to cheer his allies on.

Another thing is that as a result of being born from magic powder, he has a certain resistance to magic as his body absorbs it. My boy is just special like that. That doesn't mean he is invulnerable though, use it enough and it will damage him.

Gingerbrave is the youngest of his siblings, baked a solid three months after Strawberry Cookie. He was the one who proposed to free Wizard Cookie from the jar he was trapped in, the one who encouraged his siblings to attempt to escape the Witch's hut, and the first one to start fighting when they got caught.

As some of you may have noticed, there is blood on the sharp end of his sugarcane. That is because he used it to stab the Witch's eyes when she brought him close to her face. My boy was not playing around.

He is beloved by his siblings. And he loves them back just as much!

When I was drawing, I wanted to convey how normal he looks to most until he starts fighting. Because he really is just a regular cookie until he stands before a challenge. A shoeless cookie! But a regualer cookie nonetheless! His background doesn't contain his colour unlike with Strawberry and Wizard to show how he doesn't have a flavour. His siblings usual mask that fact with their presence, and though he doesn't really care, he understands the danger of this fact getting out.

Alright! With that, I've established enough about each of them. I'll post a few more arts about them and maybe even a short comic, and when it's done, the first chapter of my fic!

[that-ari-blogger]

Complex Motivations (You Didn't Know)

Hazbin Hotel is about redemption, and a large part of that is the complexity of motivation. Sinners have unique reasons for what got them into hell, and that intricacy is explored in great detail with the main cast, but also everyone around them.

This is actually a mercy extended to the villains. Because contrary to popular belief, having a reason for doing what your doing doesn’t make you right. The Vees, for example, are characterised entirely by their dynamic with each other, and understanding their motivation means understanding just how cruel of a person Valentino is, for example. It doesn’t justify his actions, it explains them, and makes him a more complex character than “he does bad things because he is bad”, a mentality that the show criticises at every opportunity it gets.

Speaking of which, that reductive worldview is exemplified by the folks up in heaven. Specifically, by Lute, Adam, and Sera, and You Didn’t Know exists to show them on a sliding scale of villainy, and how their place on it doesn’t matter.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD: (Hazbin Hotel)

CONTENT WARNING: (Language)

“But she was right”

The first words in any story give context to what is to come. They set up the plot, provide a question or mystery, and establish pacing. Songs in musicals are parts of the story told in microcosm, and so they apply these rules. In this case, it is important to understand that each of these people has been proven wrong.

Their worldview is measurably false, and the question is, what do they do now?

This isn’t a presentation of ideas, this isn’t a philosophical debate, this is an exploration of character in the face of challenge, and how it exposes a person's true motivation.

Starting with Lute, because she is, in my eyes, the simplest. She believes everything that she is saying with no one hundred percent certainty, and it’s almost refreshing in contrast with everyone else.

Adam and Sera are both fickle in morality, but Lute is rock solid. She is bigoted and evil, and she is owning it. She is, for lack of a better term, a paragon.

“What are we even talking about?

Some crack whore who fucked up already?

He blew his shot like the cocks in his mouth.

This discussion is senseless and petty!”

Why are we having this conversation? Angel Dust is a sinner, therefore incapable of making any points. Any evidence presented is invalid because he’s the one presenting it.

Redemption can’t be proven because redemption doesn’t exist.

It’s a flat, mindless understanding of the world that a lot of people carry, more than you think.

Dutch angle. These two make the scene unsafe. Standard filmmaking but worth pointing out.

This is called Doxastic Anxiety, according to the philosopher, Jenifer Foster. I recommend her dissertation, as well as the video by Philosophy Tube (@theabigailthorn), which discusses it in the context of deliberate ignorance, amongst other things.

Doxastic Anxiety is an aversion to forming new beliefs. In this case, Lute doesn’t want to believe that redemption is possible, so she, quite efficiently, doesn’t believe.

This isn’t an argument or a conversation, this is one side presenting evidence, and immediately getting shot down with “shut up, I’m right.” You can’t change the mind of someone who refuses to open it in the first place.

This is matched by the music itself. I’ve talked at length about Adam and Lute’s obsession with rock music and what I think about that, but there’s a gaping hole in Lute’s argument here.

The drums are doing something interesting, and I will come back to them later, but the guitar is remarkably restrained, which isn’t what you would associate with rock at all.

There's some colour symbolism here that I love. Traditionally, there is a correlation between good and evil, light and dark, white and black. Those three categories align and while there are implications there, it is storytelling standard. Except here, in this scene, the brightest part of the shot is the window into hell, and because of the shadows rendering lute in grayscale, the closest things in the scene to pure white are Angel Dust, and Charlie's hair. The filmmakers are messing with morality, so naturally, they can't resist a chance to mess with the imagery thereof. Also interesting here, the shadows are of the Angels own making because it is their architecture. They aren't just made to look bad by contrast, it's their own actions that lead to this symbolism.

Music is emotion, that’s why character playlists exist. Songs convey themes through vibes, and rock music is about big, unrestrained emotions. Rock music is fundamentally wild.

Consider Bullet With Butterfly Wings, by the Smashing Pumpkins. The song is about anger at an inability to claim freedom, and so the guitar evokes the pacing of a caged animal during the verses, then comes out swinging in the chorus only to, for lack of a better term, fumble it. The resolution at the end of each musical phrase is clumsy, like falling back to square one. The final chorus, notably, doesn’t do this, and is much more comfortable, evoking a feeling of catharsis that contrasts with the lyrics of the chorus.

“Despite all my rage,

I am still just a rat in a cage.”

Powerlessness. The character is trying to claim freedom and has transcended their anger, but it hasn’t worked. The finale is desperate, and the music thrashes against its bars, trying to break either them, or itself, all while repeatedly screaming the words:

“And I still believe that I cannot be saved.”

Maybe the bars are more than just physical. Maybe there is a psychological element to this kind of oppression.

Even Sweet Child O’ Mine, by Guns and Roses (they’re a small, up and coming band. But I think you should check them out. There’s promise there) which is calm and reminiscent for most of its runtime, is built on being dynamic. The iconic riff famously bounces between highs and lows to mimic the highs and lows of a life lived.

It’s messy in the way that memories are messy, and the solos are wild and meant to be experienced more than just listened to. They chomp at the bit during the lull at “where do we go now”, before climbing back into soaring expressions of glee and, for lack of a better term, raw power. It’s a very different emotion to Bullet With Butterfly Wings, and you don’t need the lyrics to understand that.

The point I am making is that rock music is intrinsically expressionistic and unchained, and when Lute sings, her portion of the song is anything but. Lute is angry, and appropriating imagery that is not hers to use to justify that anger. But what is the anger at? Being proven wrong.

Case and point, her guitar is simple and even. It rises, then stops, then repeats, then plays a nice little melody at the top, before resorting to power chords. She has tried to form a point, but has been unable to, and instead of examining that, has resorted to anger and displays of force.

There is something in that "stick it to the man" thing. People in power almost seem to fetishise rebellion, but when it actually happens, they get all upset. Adam likes to appear as the underdog, and I think he likes to feel like the underdog, but he isn't. He's the one the underdogs are fighting.

Moving on to Adam, who doesn’t believe anything he is saying. He is doing genocide for entertainment, and he doesn’t care about justifying it. There is nothing behind this man, he gets what he wants because he wants it. He is a man child.

He has also already had his views explained in detail, so this song gets to shine as a character beat for him, because of the aforementioned framing device. What do you do when you are proven wrong? Do you change? Do you shout down what the person is saying like Lute? Or do you get petty and start being an arse because you can?

This is where we see Adam’s vindictive side, and it sure is a coincidence that the guy who champions retributive justice has a habit of taking what he views as revenge and multiplying it tenfold. That’s probably not important.

Anyway, this is used to bring up Vaggie’s deceit, but it also exposes something interesting about Adam’s villainy. It’s innately self-sabotaging.

Adam could have kept his gob shut and this would have gone off without a hitch, but he didn’t. His villainy is based in retribution, and so he had to dish it out when he was slighted, even if it undermines his greater scheme.

Which, if I may get a bit soap boxy, is how villains work in the real world.

I get frustrated with the view that kindness is hard and that being awful is easy because it isn’t. Don’t let people tell you the world is naturally terrible, because if you believe them and expect the worst, then you don’t call people out on their nonsense. “Oh, the world is bad, it was the easiest choice to do this awful thing.” No! It took a choice to cause suffering, someone made that decision.

Evil is difficult and self sabotaging and will wreck you for doing it to the point where it stops being worth it. Truly evil people are those that make the decision to do what they are doing because they have weighed up the consequences and decided that they don’t care.

On a day-to-day level, kindness is easy. It costs you nothing. Don’t use the mundanity of misery as an excuse for your own shit behavior, and call people out on theirs because they are actively making the world worse, not prolonging the status quo.

But on a grander scale, this is where Adam comes in. I would argue that it would be easier for Adam to not do a genocide. Like, it would be easier to just sit at home, drink soft drink, be a tosspot. He wouldn’t be a nice guy, but it would be an improvement.

But to do what he is doing right now, he had to come up with the idea, something that probably took him a while. Then he had to persuade Lute and the other executioners, which probably took less time. Then he had to run it by Sera, and then he had to amass an army in secret and keep that same secret of genocide from an entire population.

But he did. He went above and beyond so that he could kill people for sport.

Adam actively made the world worse, and crucially, that directly led to his death later on in the series. He gave people motivation to want him dead.

I mentioned at the start of this post that the sliding scale of villainy doesn’t matter, and that brings me to Sera.

Sera isn’t evil. She doesn’t directly cause bad things. But that “directly” is doing a lot of heavy lifting, because Sera is an enabler. She doesn’t have a moral compass at all. She doesn’t stand for anything, so she lets everything happen.

She doesn’t do the genocide, she doesn’t want to be a part of it, and she thinks that makes her a saint. But then again, she had the power to stop it, and the choice to do nothing is still a choice.

General lump of ice for anyone who wants it. If you ever find yourself smiling like a maniac with literal hellfire reflected in your eyes, maybe reconsider your life a bit.

Sera could have said “no” and been done with it. But instead, she signed herself up for a lifetime of subterfuge because it seemed easier at the time. Theoretically, Sera isn’t as bad as the others, but in practicality, oh yes she is.

Sera’s lack of morality is actually what inspired me to analyse this entire musical, because her part in this song is so crucial to my understanding of the musical as a whole and I haven’t seen anybody else’s reading factor this in at all.

“I thought cause I’m older,

it’s my load to shoulder.”

“No”

“You have to listen,

it was such a hard decision

I wanted to save you

the anguish it takes to

Do what was required…”

Sera doesn’t defend the genocide; she defends her decision to lie. Even when called out on it, it doesn’t occur to her that the murder of civilians is what people are upset about.

There are two possible readings here, the first being deflection and the second being indifference.

Deflection is simple. She gets called out for murder and she apologises for lying. That’s not remotely the point, but if you can get someone tangled up in an argument that they didn’t sign up for, you can twist their words into something they didn’t mean.

Anger is a volatile emotion, but it can be lead astray. Deceit is not an easy thing to justify, but it’s a lot less difficult than systematic oppression, so Sera might be steering the conversation to something where she is on slightly less of a rough footing.

The other reading is indifference. Sera genuinely doesn’t care about morality, and so she is trying to keep her public face. She is the leader of… is Heaven a country? Is it a city? What is Heaven? Anyway, Sera is in a leadership position, and so she has made the decision to maintain her image first and foremost.

She spins the genocide as something that was required and starts defending the lie, because that’s what she thinks is most important. To her, the genocide was required, but to that I ask: for what?

Like, what is the end goal here?

Adam has presented the idea that the genocide makes him feel good. Lute is of the opinion that the sinners deserved it. But Sera says “required.” For what?

Is she required to let Adam do what he wants? Is she trying to find a middle ground between “no genocide” and “yes genocide” and landing on “some genocide”?

Alternatively, does Sera think it is required to keep the population of Hell down, so they don’t rise up? Does she think this is needed for her own security? Is it for control? Because, if that’s the case, I think she is talking bollocks.

You don’t need to murder someone to not feel threatened by them, and there are better ways of coexistence than control.

Sera returns to what I said earlier about villainy being difficult. She didn’t need to go along with the genocide. It wasn’t required. But she chose to, and that makes her stand alongside Adam and Lute.

Before I finish up, let’s talk about the drums.

The song is dense, and has a lot of moving parts, so as a storytelling technique, the drums are really impressive. Not only to they separate the sections and make the story easier to digest, adding to the vibes of each part while keeping the momentum going, but they also join the sections with fills to ease the transitions between disparate parts of the story.

The song starts out with no percussion as Emily pleads with the court and specifically with Sera. Then Charlie brings some backbone to the conversation with the concept of fairness, and we get a steady, repeated beat, like boxers circling each other.

We get a fill into the marching beat that backs up Lute’s solo, before a chorus from a rock song follows Adam’s input in the conversation. So far, so good.

Then Adam ruins everything, and the song abruptly cuts back to Emily, who suddenly has percussion accompanying her voice. Although, it is off kilter and unsteady, unsure if it should be here or not. It’s uneasy as Emily tries to work out what is happening and how to feel. Something is wrong, and her music is evolving to keep up.

Sera’s section messes with this in a way I love. Starting off mimicking Emily’s exactly with the unsteady beat as if to say “I’m with you.” Although it adds some bass drum, specifically the rhythm played during Adam and Lute’s chorus.

Then, as she says the line about doing what was required, Emily’s rhythm cuts out entirely to show the falseness of this offer. Sera and Adam are entirely aligned here.

Emily is back, and her rhythm is gaining more and more confidence as she gets more and more angry.

“Was talk of virtue just pretention?

Was I too naïve to expect you…”

We’re building to a final chorus, and we get a quiet fill before a surprisingly understated chorus.

“If Hell is forever than heaven must be a lie.”

The perfect world is built on suffering, which means it can’t be a perfect world. Everything else falls away, including the drums, into short punches that are just off beat enough to feel natural. This is just brutality. Messy, unrestrained, hammering. This is the point; this is the centerpiece of the musical.

Then the drums cut out entirely for the final moments to underscore the revelation, and the song wraps up.

Final Thoughts

I’m about to spoil the rest of the musical, so be warned.

I want Sera to be redeemed so much, and I actually think it might happen, here’s why.

First, I think it would be funny. I think Sir Pentious being in heaven would be an excuse to torment her into changing. Like, she gets so frustrated by the snake boy who’s voice she recognizes for some reason, and who proves her wrong so entirely, but whom she can’t escape from and whom she can’t bring herself to dislike.

Drag the angel, kicking and screaming, into being a better person. Commit to the theme, damn it.

But I do think there is a chance of this actually happening, and that is because of the expressions that Sera makes. When Emily snaps, the show makes a point of showing Sera’s response, and it is abject horror and sadness. There is no anger or spite there, it is just shock and terror.

A sinner couldn’t convince her, but she is willing to listen to Emily, and that is the expression of someone who’s entire world just came crashing down.

Maybe it’s the fear that Emily will fall like Lucifer, or maybe it’s the fear that she won’t. I cannot wait to find out.

Next week, however, is Out for Love, and I have thoughts about that song. So stick around if that interests you.

Previous – Next

[sunflowerbower]

Got inspired or perhaps just got my heart broken by @voyage-of-the-porn-spreader’s post here about Francis dreaming of James after the end of the show…and ended up writing something because of it!

More “terror” than my usual ramblings, Francis dreams.

Francis had thought that James Clark Ross speaking his name would be the last time he heard it in someone else’s voice. Fitting. His closest friend from before all of this. He is Aglooka now, Francis is scattered to the arctic winds. Blown across the shale and the ice with the rest of his men. He has possibly never been more wrong. He struggles against the call of sleep, the fur blankets he’s buried in cocooning him in soothing warmth and weight. The fear of his own subconscious is not entirely new to him, but it seems more insistent now. Life in the Arctic is a challenge, even for the Netsilik people who make their home here, and he is exhausted, his eyes slip closed and the spectres blossom in his dreams. Unfurling in shocking colours that don’t exist in his life anymore. The whispers build, intelligible as they rasp over each other, until they become a scream, silence, crooked teeth.

“Francis. Francis Francis Francis…” the deep honeyed voice separates itself from the others. Clear as a call on a deck. Clear as four bells. In his tent, Aglooka twitches. In his dream, Francis smiles.

The haze of his dream world is such that the edges never fully form, Francis stands in focus, life fading into nothingness around him. Shadows lurk in the fog, he’s briefly reminded of their camp, as it was all falling apart, he shakes his head and pushes the thought away. There’s not much around him, there rarely is. Francis knows, in that dreamlike certainty, that he’s in the wardroom aboard Terror. The fire stoked and warmer than it ever was in reality, and that’s not where the disparities end. His chair is even more uncomfortable than it used to be, the windows pitch black as though covered with swirling smoke outside, the table is different too, rickety, fragile, and there is only one chair. Francis waits. His own personal purgatory, to be stranded in his ship. He took no pleasure in leaving her the first time around, he will not abandon her now.

He settles in, the aching in his body is almost calming to him now. Francis waits. One of the shadows begins to take on sharper edges, tall and lean, the darkness hinting at navy blue, and brass buttons glinting as he steps into focus.

“Francis. Francis.” the voice is urgent.

“James.” Francis breathes in, almost silently, his eyes dart nervously up to his face, and he exhales, his brow relaxing. “James.”

James Fitzjames smiles, his crooked front teeth appearing briefly, Francis’ eyes flicking over his face. James’ cheeks are fuller than the last time he was here, this is Fitzjames from the beginning of the expedition, bright and flashy and one hundred times less irritating now Francis truly knows the man. Francis lets his eyes roam over the solid breadth of the other man, the uniform tailored beautifully, his hair curled, soft and shining, his boots polished.

The room shudders. As if the ice has continued to consume them, the table rattles and the figures in the fog flash darker. Francis grips the arms of his chair as pain rushes through him, his left wrist, his right shoulder, slicing into his flesh. He screws his face up, eyes closed as he shouts in agony.

Aglooka opens his eyes breathing heavily. The tent is dark except for a pale glow at the entrance, the northern lights wild as usual. It’s late, he should sleep more, they move further south tomorrow. His eyes drift closed.

Francis opens his eyes to find Fitzjames seated across from him, gesturing and clearly in the middle of a story.

“The size of a cherry!”

“James!” Francis interrupts, it doesn’t stop James’ story, he hasn’t managed to before either. He thinks it’s an odd short of punishment, he can stay here, uncomfortable, but grateful to hear James’ strong voice again. Sometimes he is allowed to speak to James though, to hold a conversation, the payment his subconscious extracts can be inventive though. He lets James’ story wash over him, wishes he could go back, start again, maybe he could learn politics from James like this, and speak some sense into Franklin, save them all. The room shudders again, a roar coming from beyond the warmth of the room, Francis focuses on James again and the room stills.

“The size of a cherry!”

Francis sighs as James has started his story again, a section of time doomed to repeat and repeat, until when Francis is not sure. He could almost parrot it word for word now, such a common occurrence it has become. James gestures to where he was shot, and Francis’ eyes follow, intimately familiar with those wounds as he is. James’ uniform melts, dissolves in the same way the scurvy took apart their old wounds, bleeding off of his chest until the shots are visible, raw and bloody and rotten. Francis stands so abruptly, pushing away from the table which creaks under the strain and tilts violently. James starts his story again. His face greys under Francis wide eyed stare, the weight falls off him, his ribs protruding, his eyes bleeding, hair thinning, blood around his teeth when he grins rakishly.

Before Francis can so much as blink, James is standing in front of him, mouth dropped open wide as blood drips from his dark mouth, a fetid smell assaulting Francis. He feels tears creep down his face, his shoulder and arm beginning to bother him again. He starts to speak but is interrupted by a ghastly inhuman shriek from James. It pours out of the darkness of his mouth, reverberates around the wardroom, the fog turning entirely black as the figures circle them.

Francis stumbles and falls backwards, Aglooka wakes up to daylight creeping into the tent. He wishes he hadn’t.

[leathfaic]

Simon Riley it turns out, doesn't have a taste in furniture.

It's not that he has objectively bad taste. He just has none at all.

Which he reckons in hindsight he should have anticipated. He never really furnished his own place after all. Always lived in cheap, outfitted places. Never homes, always just places to stay.

And now he's being confronted with a question he can't answer.

"What would ye like?"

Instinctively answered with "Whatever you'd want, don't really 'ave an opinion."

Only apparently that answer doesn't count.

Even as a kid it was second-hand furniture. The few times there was enough money to repaint something Simon as the big brother had to let Tommy pick first. He usually went with blue. No blues then, that's a start right? He doesn't need to give his brain ammunition to pull him back to his childhood. It has more than enough.

And Ghost has all the blue he'll ever need to see in his life in Soap's eyes.

Good thing he didn't say that sappy shit out loud.

Knowing what he doesn't want is a start but nothing prepared him for a vast store full of things. To make choices like "Which couch do you think will give you the least back pain when you can only test-sit them for a few minutes?"

The only thing he knows for sure is that these gigantic stores would make for a mean close-quarter training ground. He's half tempted to ask Price if they can find one that's about to close down and no one would mind getting shot to shit. It would be a fun challenge.

"Simon, ye with me love?"

Shaking his head to clear it and then giving Johnny a quick thumbs up he struggles up from the sofa he'd been sitting on and contemplating.

"Ye like tha' one? Went right to broodin' on there like ye felt all at home."

"Fuck off."

The defense comes instinctively but he has to admit Johnny is right. Giving the couch another cursory look, like it might jump up and bite him, he can't help but be a bit perplexed.

It's very large, definitely bigger than Soap's old couch. It's also very...red. Which isn't blue. But still it looks like someone spilled an intensiley dark wine all over the thing. Did he like red couches?

Apparently.

Simon Riley, it turns out, has a great taste in furniture. It just took him a moment to figure that out.

He picks sturdy things. Solid woods, iron fastenings, robust. Somewhere in the realm between industrial and old hand made styles.

Soap has been trailing him happily, barely saying a word because letting Ghost pick is easy, he almost always found himself agreeing. It wasn't always his first choice or even something that caught his eyes, but slowly and surely the flat was coming together.

It made him giddy, even knowing it would be a while until everything was delivered and assembled.

It would be lots of warm colours, light wood and dark iron in contrast. But most importantly it would be theirs. Something they'd make their home together. And wasn't that novel?

Two trained SAS operatives picking the carpet they found most cosy? Not plotting for tactical advantages but for a home to come back to. A place to share comfort and to share nightmares and panic attacks.

Because no matter how right they got it they would still be themselves, drenched in blood and now on an appropriately coloured sofa.

Johnny knew he should snap out of the line of thought he was barrelling down before it took him to darker places, but he was ensnared already.

Would one of them sit in that flat, drowning in grief when luck finally ran out for them? Would the signs the other left behind before deployment be a comfort or would they feel haunting?

Or would it just be Price and Gaz, lost in a place that had been a home and was just empty? Soulless. Ready to be emptied of all traces that could tell of secrets that better stayed hidden.

Would it just be one of Laswells people, burning the place without a care, just a precaution after a taskforce lost?

"So it's no' tha' one for sure."

Torn from his thoughts Soap looks up at Simon in confusion.

"Starte' broodin immediately. Can't 'ave you in a shit mood every time you hit the sack. 'ave too many plans for tha' place."

Soap finds himself snorting as he gets up from the bed he was testing.

"Fuck off." he throws back softly. Sees a warm smile spread behind the medical mask on Ghost's face.

"Ye're right though and ye need to tell me of these plans."

Part 1 //Part 3