#i want to find better manufacturers but i also kind of just want to craft and sell things in person

[aurosoulart]

hey! just so you know, none of your society6 or redbubble links seem to be working! apologies if you were already aware

oh yeah I still need to get rid of those links!! I deleted my accounts there because their products are cheaply made, cost too much, and the pay for artists was ridiculously small.

also my art stopped selling anyways lol. the extra ~$20/month wasn’t worth the environmental impact anymore 🥲

#it bugged me that redbubble shirt designs wash off after like 3 months #and that all society6 tapestries are just made of plastic #and that like. most of the products were just made of plastic and the print jobs were cheap #i want to find better manufacturers but i also kind of just want to craft and sell things in person #inprnt gets to stay though because their shit is quality #and the artist cut there is 50% #i still don’t really sell any prints anymore but it’s nice to have at least one option open for a shop #auropost

[ozcarr]

oz can you tell me about your tabletop robot guy who is sometimes a regular guy sometime I'm so curious

Gingey you are so real for this because you FUCKING KNOW I’ll write an essay about him. But I will give you the (still extremely long) reader's digest version.

His name is Aurelio and he's Wizard/Fighter in me and the homies' hiatus-ed Strixhaven (D&D magic college) game.

idk if you have familiarity with Eberron and the Warforged but basically there was this huge century-long, continental war, and things progressed to the extent the government was manufacturing soldiers to like. You know, fight and kill and die for them. Aurelio was built by a private contractor to be a battle mage and gained consciousness 2 days before a peace treaty was signed and all the Warforged were granted citizens' rights. So he was never dispatched and spent the following year and a half kind of just rotting away in a workshop, only 90% finished with only books and newspapers to learn about the world from.

A lot of the people in Ebberon do NOT like the warforged because they're relics of a really scary and dire war (and also they're like. Built to be soldiers, with all that entails.) Aurelio is really book-smart but has a lot of internalized guilt about being inherently dangerous and he also kind of lacks identity. And he's mesmerized by life and death and the human experiences — stuff like falling in love and growing old. He's determined that the only way he'll ever be happy is if he somehow becomes an organic lifeform, and decides that the best way to go about achieving that is through reincarnation (a spell that must be performed by a 9th level druid). Whether becoming a Regular Guy would ACTUALLY fix him or not... remains to be seen. What he wants and what I want for him are usually sorta at odds.

Anyway -- what better place to find a high-level mage than academia? So Aurelio gets really good at basic illusion spells and crafts a little persona based on his creator and his creator's two sons. Cause he doesn't wanna make people uncomfortable. And he thinks he’d be happier playing out this little fantasy.

He steals some military academy records, and ships himself off to Wizard College... in hopes that he can live some facsimile of human (elf?) experience, secure the allyship of a druid, figure out what he wants to do with his life one he gets it, then self-destruct at the opportune time so that his new druid buddy can randomly generate him a new body.

But he makes all these wonderful friends and has to keep them at arm's length because he's constantly lying to them, even though he's a terrible liar. Until he feels he can't do it anymore and finally tells them. But he's in too deep, he's married to his little lie (not to mention he faked his identity to the school), so he just keeps up with the disguise -- up until recent in-game events which caused his world to shatter a little bit.

He's super emotional (because he's basically brand new and every feeling is new and horrible), a little mischievous, cagey, lacks tact, and is constantly fucking up his interpersonal relationships. But he’s well-meaning and earnest. All he knows how to do is lie (illusion magic) and wreck shit (lighting-damage evocation magic). He wants to be a good, gentle person and a good friend but he's so self-involved that his actions usually backfire in some way.

That's the guy! He's a mess!

#You asked. I'm sorry #he was *just* kinda starting a fucked up little journey of self identity and acceptance when we hit pause. so maybe he’ll figure it all out #one day #Aurelio #ayy im talkin here #asks #gingey

[re-readingcomics]

Comics Read 7/9-17/2022 

As I was saying in my last entry I was reading Jill Thompson’s Scary Godmother Omnibus (though not a version that I can seem to find on Goodreads, much to my displeasure). As with my most recent entries I want to start by explaining a little autobiographical detail. As I mention before, the first comic book I got into was Vertigo’s The Sandman. As you may know Jill Thomson drew the “Brief Lives” arc, also known as the arc where Delirium looks most like Tori Amos, something that attracts me.  My initial comic reading coincided with the release of Thompson released her manga style Sandman spinoff Death: At Death’s Door, which I have and enjoy. When I was getting back into reading new comics I naturally wanted check into what she was up to, and one of the things was her Kickstarter for the Scary Godmother doll manufacturing as she had just regained the rights. Despite never having heard of the Scary Godmother, I backed the Kickstarter and now have one of the original dolls. So naturally I also had to figure out more of what is the story of the Scary Godmother so when this omnibus published by Dark Horse came out I bought it. But I was slow to read it. Last year when a cousin and his then three years old were visiting I lent it to them so that he could read her something while the rest of the adults were otherwise engaged. He quickly realized that this might be a little too scare for three year olds and I had to shrug and say that I hadn’t read it yet. 

Now that I have read it pretty carefully I can say that the suggestion on the publishing info page that this is for children ages eight and up seems accurate. The first story in the book tells the story of Hannah Marie’s first encounter with the Scary Godmother. In it her older cousin Jimmy tries to scare her into returning home so that his trick or treat party isn’t constrained by her earlier curfew. The ultimate lesson seems to be “cousins who resent your curfew are scarier than traditional monsters, who could be your friends!” which is pretty scary. The second story in the book, “Jimmy’s Revenge” is a on How the Grinch Stole Christmas, but different mythology and Jimmy becomes less scary in it and there is more of the mythology spelled out, such as we learn that the Scary Godmother’s realm is called the Fright Side, and how Hannah regularly visits.

The book’s organization is a little frustrating. There isn’t a table of contents for the entire omnibus. The first part of the book is a hybrid picture book comics with full colors. This is often beautiful and in comparison to the rest of the book, the part best for readers on the younger section. The very end of the book, where there are collections of old covers and sketches to help the animators of the cartoon has some more full color art. Other than that in black and white and full comic story telling. These often have the dates in which they were originally published in them, which really made me wish that the stories in the first part had their original publication dates easily available, because I don’t think they are arranged in chronological order and I would have been interested in seeing that kind of development.

The comic book stories here are for older kids and I can’t say that I liked them. The “Wild About Harry” story is the kind I definitely don’t need right now. “Ghouls Out for Summer” was slightly better, though so much or involved the Scary Godmother being drugged and kidnapped it outs a damper on the more fun plots involving Hannah at sleep away camp and a vampire summer school. Within these stories there are frequently moments where the characters break the fourth wall and gives advice on how to make some snacks. The penultimate section is filled with more snack and craft guides as well as other activities like a crossword. Ultimately it wasn’t for me, but I hope to give my copy to someone who would really love it. 

Over the past week I also read The Dollhouse Family. It’s created by M.R. (Mike) Cary and Peter Gross, one of the teams I am trying to be a completist about. When I started reading comics again one of the series that I quickly caught up on and loved was their The Unwritten, and have been catching up on their other work from Lucifer to The Highest House. While Gross is usually the main artist here he did the layouts but not the finishes (those were done by Vince Locke) so it doesn’t quite look the way I associate Gross’s signature style. I guess this makes it better that they also have covers by someone other than Yuko Shimuzo, who did all of them for both The Unwritten and The Highest House. Here the covers are by Jessica Dalva and they get quite creepy, but are also a little inconsistent.

Anyway The Dollhouse Family was published as part of the Hill House comics that Joe Hill curate for DC’s Black Label. I intend to read all of these but thus far have only read Hill’s delightfully gory Basketful of Heads. While both are horror stories and at least partially take place in the past the two could not be more different. Basketful of Heads is over one very violent night and while there are some serious themes of class based corruption and abuse, it is comparatively light next to the intergenerational trauma’s and epic span of time in The Dollhouse Family. When I reached the conclusion I was struck by how the most horrifying events were not cause by the Dollhouse, so the supernatural wrap up couldn’t entirely clear it. It once again strikes me that as a writer, Carey sometimes seems decidedly uninterested in charming his readers. It’s something to get used to, and in my opinion mostly worth while.  

#what i’m reading #comic books #dark horse comics #dc black label #hill house #dc comics #jill thompson #Scary Godmother #The Sandman #The Dollhouse family #M.R. Carey #Mike Carey #Peter Gorss #Vince Locke #Cris Peter #Jessica Dalva

[pristinering]

Why Men Are Saying I Do to Tungsten Wedding Bands

Why are men saying I do to tungsten wedding bands? There are many reasons for men saying yes to men's tungsten rings. The top reason is Men’s tungsten rings are the latest trend!

Learn about the reasons in this blog before choosing the newest and most stylish variety of men's wedding bands for yourself or your partner. Choosing a wedding band for men is challenging due to preferences and budget constraints. This blog can ease the process of selection. Keep reading to know what are tungsten rings and the benefits of tungsten rings.

What Are Tungsten Rings?

Tungsten rings for men are made up of tungsten. Tungsten is a natural metal popular for its hardness and robust properties. It has been used in various fixtures lately and now it is a metal of choice for men’s wedding bands.

Tungsten rings are made up of the compound formed between tungsten and carbon. Tungsten carbide is the main element used in the men’s wedding bands in tungsten. The tungsten rings are often manufactured with a variety of inlays like wooden inlays, guitar strings, opal, meteorite, and many more.

Benefits Of Buying A Tungsten Ring For Men

Affordable Rings

Choosing a wedding is a matter of financial expense but choosing a tungsten ring isn't. Choose the most trendy and stylish wedding ring from our website and save a lot of money. We know you need something nontraditional and yet unique as your wedding ring, check out our latest collection now! The rings you see on our site are extremely affordable and fancy. These rings do not hold any traditional accents and hence are a lot cheaper than the usual wedding rings. Save in the ring and invest it for your future together.

Meaningful And Unique

Our rings are 100% handmade! Buy these customized handmade rings and show off your uniqueness. These rings are just what you would like. Every ring holds meaning to it; they are all eco-friendly and have an inlay of eco-friendly natural material. Find the rings below and understand what it means to be unique.

Scratch Resistant

These rings are made with the best technique. Tungsten carbide rings are both made with a robust outer layer. Tungsten carbide is scratch-resistant. It will look new forever maintaining its sleek and beautiful design statement. Men who want a high-quality, low-maintenance ring frequently choose it because of its longevity and scratch resistance.

Lasts Longer

These rings are made to last. Expect these rings to last as long as your love for your partner does. Rings made up of tungsten carbide are immune to bends and dullness. It stays the same even if you have physical labor included in your lifestyle. Never dulls and fades and can be worn 24*7.

Checkout the trending option in men’s tungsten wedding bands;

Dinosaur Bone Tungsten Men's Wedding Band 8MM

This Dinosaur Bone Tungsten Men's Wedding Band 8MM is a unique and stylish choice for the discerning groom. Crafted from tungsten, this 8mm-wide ring is extremely strong and scratch-resistant, making it an ideal investment for a lifetime. Its details, including the intricate dinosaur bone inlay, make this ring truly one-of-a-kind.

Conclusion

Tungsten Wedding Bands For Men are trending and the most affordable option available in the market. The usual cost of a wedding ring made up of diamond and gold is $1000-4000 while the tungsten rings cost $80-600. Men's Wedding Rings are usually meant for lifestyle and comfort and get the best nontraditional variety of tungsten rings at “ Pristine Rings”. These rings are available in black and silvery shades. Check out the Black Wedding Rings if you love black color.

 You can also explore the varieties of the couple's tungsten ring sites and save yourself a great amount. Save now and use it for a better future.

Disclaimer- The information provided in this content is just for educational purposes and is written by a professional writer. Consult us to know more about tips on tungsten men’s wedding rings/bands.

#mens tungsten wedding rings #mens tungsten ring #tungsten ring #tungsten rings for men

[shinypeachdelusion]

10 Inspirational Graphics About replica handbags

I'm sure Many people have heard about phony baggage, and in some cases bought them prior to.​ Bogus bags are a huge challenge in the present vogue world.​ They can be created to appear particularly like designer luggage so It is challenging to tell which happens to be which.​ It really is such a bummer that men and women would even stoop so small and produce these bogus bags, which not just can be a rip off to designer manufacturers but will also, are lower top quality.​

When I observed my friend by using a designer-on the lookout bag, I used to be so envious and wanted to get one particular myself.​ Till I discovered that it absolutely was a fake, and I Virtually fainted! I was so mad, figuring out that she experienced likely been jipped of her cash.​ To produce issues even worse, the bag wasn't even very well-created nor did it look as good as the real issue.​ A couple of days afterwards the strap broke and that is when she realized it was a phony!

The worst aspect was that the bag had Price her some huge cash.​ It wasn't cheap, still the standard was terrrible.​ It absolutely was distressing to view a colleague knowledge this kind of reduction.​ I indicate, who really Positive aspects from these phony baggage? Completely nobody.​ And It can be not only the big names that pretend bags hurt, but will also tiny businesses who craft authentic luggage and have to contend with bogus luggage.​

I've encounter quite a bit of men and women that invest in these bogus bags because they Feel they can just 'get away with it'.​ They may get away with it for some time, but it is a make any difference of your time ahead of they notice the true expense of a pretend bag.​ It's a waste of cash and time.​ Not to mention, the morality situation.​ It is common expertise that purchasing bogus bags is illegal, and nevertheless men and women maintain acquiring them, No matter.​

Nevertheless, for those who find yourself in the need for the designer-wanting bag, you can find alternate options like 'classic outlets' and even branded outlet retailers.​ These stores have remarkable luggage that could look excellent and past extended than a regular pretend bag.​ Certainly, it is going to Expense a lot more than a bogus, but top quality in no way will come low-priced.​

Not forgetting, the phony bags don't usually display the basic functions that genuine baggage do.​ Aspects like hardware, lining substance, stitching, stamp of authenticity and much more, are missing in faux bags.​ Alternatively, the original designer baggage have an added degree of sophistication which the pretend luggage, Unfortunately, never have.​

A further issue with these phony bags is that they're normally made with counterfeit products like leather-based, which are not only harmful and also degrade simply.​ They do not final lengthy and break apart, which, in turn, impacts the quality of the bag.​

What's more, bogus luggage generally lack lawful warranties that come with authentic manufacturers.​ Meaning, even if they harm unintentionally, you are able to in no way get it fixed with the assistance on the designer's label.​ This is exactly why It is much better to pay for slightly more than Use a bag that can certainly break down.​

At last, the scent of pretend luggage is nearly always ample to identify them from the real offer.​ Phony luggage have an uncomfortable oder to them because of the fakes products They may be created with.​ That is why it is important to check the odor with the bag when building a purchase, to be sure you're not remaining tricked.​

I don't forget trading in my notebook for the money required to purchase my very first replica bag.​ I couldn’t feel that this dream of getting a designer handbag was at last close by.​ And when it arrived, I felt like I was in heaven! It experienced anything - stunning leather-based, a fragile strap and a bright lining that matched the colour of my dress.​ I felt like a star.​

It was the ideal size for my on-the-go Way of life.​ Any time I was out and about, I could effortlessly slip it in excess of my arm, carry all my essentials, and nonetheless seem attractive.​ I could also fit in all my knick-knacks plus much more which made it the ideal companion for weekend journeys and acquiring all over city.​

The better part of possessing a replica bag was that it absolutely was far more reasonably priced than the usual designer brand.​ Don’t get me wrong…I however like designer brands, but the worth tag just doesn’t always slot in my price range.​ With replica bags, I was capable to save a ton of louis vuitton outlet money and nevertheless get an incredible looking bag.​

Despite the many fantastic features of the duplicate bag, there was just one down side - the sturdiness.​ I anticipated the bag to very last me for awhile, but just after about six months of employing it, the fabric began to break down.​ The bag just didn’t hold up in particular weather conditions.​ This wasn’t a large offer for me as I just changed the bag with a newer a single, but this is likely to be really worth looking at for people hunting for a much more lengthy-Long lasting accessory.​

The underside line is, should you’re trying to find a modern and inexpensive bag that’ll allow you to glimpse set-together, a reproduction bag is a great way to go.​ From my expertise, I can express that it’s absolutely definitely worth the dollars you’ll be shelling out.​

I have also employed several different other replicas - which includes a Kate Spade encouraged reproduction.​ I assumed this was a very fantastic invest in as it gave me the texture of a designer bag without having breaking the bank.​ I gained many compliments for it, and it felt like it was just the right dimension.​ Additionally, it experienced sufficient detail to really make it look extremely one of a kind.​

I've also tried out a Gucci motivated replica which was produced from high-quality supplies and a more intricate layout.​ It had been Completely beautiful, nevertheless, the detail was a little bit an excessive amount of And that i felt like it had been as well extravagant for every day put on.​ I'd personally normally put it aside for Particular occasions or evenings out.​

A different good duplicate I attempted out was a Michael Kors impressed bag.​ This was anything I attained for whenever I needed to glance stylish but not extremely dressy.​ It absolutely was ideal for Specific occasions, nonetheless nevertheless casual with its minimalistic layout.​ I did discover the straps somewhat limited for me, but almost nothing too bothersome.​

My encounter with replica bags continues to be constructive Total.​ I obtain them to get a great way to get designer appears to be without the need of sacrificing a ton of money.​ I love which i get to precise my personalized style as a result of the selection of replica bags I individual.​ Every so often I like to exchange them for anything unique, as they sometimes past me about 6 months just before breaking down.​

Nevertheless, I do understand that not everyone feels exactly the same way about duplicate bags.​ Lots of people think that they’re not worth the revenue, and that designer luggage are exceptional regarding good quality and magnificence.​ I am able to unquestionably respect that feeling.​ What I do know is the fact that, for me, duplicate baggage are an incredible approach to investigate several different kinds without the need of breaking the financial institution.​

The ethical in the story is the fact It is really just not worthwhile purchasing bogus luggage.​ You will find a lot of dangers associated and the quality is often not worth it.​ The first high-quality designer luggage have colonial insurance, warranties, very good construction and also greater substance.​ Having to pay a little extra will warranty you the standard and satisfaction of owning a genuine bag.​ Besides, It truly is illegal, and versus the ethical code.​ Don't be fooled into purchasing a faux!

#louis vuitton outlet

[garrettjpvf143]

9 Things Your Parents Taught You About replica bags designer

I am guaranteed Many people have heard of fake bags, as well as bought them prior to.​ Bogus baggage are a massive trouble in the present style earth.​ They may be made to appear accurately like designer luggage so It is really difficult to tell which is which.​ It's this type of bummer that folks would even stoop so low and develop these bogus bags, which not just are a rip off to designer models but additionally, are reduced good quality.​

When I saw my Pal with a designer-searching bag, I had been so envious and wanted to get one myself.​ Till I discovered that it absolutely was a pretend, and I Virtually fainted! I was so mad, figuring out that she had possibly been jipped of her dollars.​ To generate matters even worse, the bag was not even properly-produced nor did it glimpse pretty much as good as the real factor.​ Two or three times later the strap broke and that is when she understood it absolutely was a pretend!

The worst portion was which the bag experienced Expense her some huge cash.​ It wasn't low-priced, still the standard was terrrible.​ It was painful to watch an acquaintance expertise this kind of loss.​ I suggest, who genuinely Rewards from these phony baggage? Certainly no person.​ And It really is not merely the massive names that faux bags harm, but will also little organizations who craft first bags and have to replica handbags compete with pretend baggage.​

I have encounter a lot of people that buy these fake luggage mainly because they Feel they will just 'get away with it'.​ They may get absent with it for quite a while, but it's a issue of your time in advance of they notice the real price of a fake bag.​ It's a squander of money and time.​ Let alone, the morality challenge.​ It is common information that purchasing phony baggage is illegitimate, and yet people today keep purchasing them, regardless.​

On the other hand, when you end up in the necessity for the designer-on the lookout bag, you will find alternatives like 'vintage retailers' or simply branded outlet shops.​ These merchants have remarkable baggage that could glimpse wonderful and past for a longer time than a daily phony bag.​ Obviously, it will Expense in excess of a bogus, but top quality by no means arrives low-priced.​

As well as, the fake baggage do not generally Exhibit the basic functions that authentic baggage do.​ Details like components, lining content, stitching, stamp of authenticity plus much more, are missing in pretend luggage.​ However, the initial designer bags have an added degree of sophistication which the pretend bags, Unfortunately, usually do not have.​

Yet another challenge with these pretend luggage is that they're usually manufactured with counterfeit materials like leather, which are not only unhealthy but also degrade effortlessly.​ They do not very last long and crack aside, which, subsequently, affects the quality of the bag.​

Also, faux bags normally absence lawful warranties that come with genuine brands.​ Meaning, even should they damage accidentally, you may hardly ever get it mounted with the help of your designer's label.​ That's why It is better to pay for just a little additional than Have a very bag that can certainly break down.​

Last but not least, the odor of pretend baggage is nearly always adequate to spot them from the real offer.​ Faux bags have an unpleasant oder to them as a result of fakes components They are really produced with.​ This is exactly why it's important to check the smell in the bag when building a obtain, to ensure you're not remaining tricked.​

I try to remember investing in my laptop for The cash needed to invest in my first duplicate bag.​ I couldn’t think that this aspiration of having a designer handbag was last but not least within reach.​ And when it arrived, I felt like I used to be in heaven! It experienced everything - lovely leather, a fragile strap along with a shiny lining that matched the color of my costume.​ I felt like a celebrity.​

It had been the best sizing for my on-the-go Life-style.​ Any time I used to be out and about, I could conveniently slip it above my arm, carry all my Necessities, and even now search stylish.​ I could also fit in all my knick-knacks and a lot more which designed it the best companion for weekend outings and getting all-around city.​

The better part of possessing a reproduction bag was that it had been much more very affordable than the usual designer model.​ Don’t get me wrong…I nonetheless like designer manufacturers, but the price tag just doesn’t normally fit in my price range.​ With reproduction luggage, I used to be ready to preserve a ton of cash and nonetheless get a terrific wanting bag.​

Regardless of all the wonderful capabilities of a replica bag, there was a person down side - the sturdiness.​ I anticipated the bag to past me for awhile, but right after about 6 months of applying it, the fabric began to break down.​ The bag just didn’t delay in certain weather conditions.​ This wasn’t a big deal for me as I just replaced the bag with a more recent one, but this could possibly be really worth considering for those searching for a extra extended-Long lasting accessory.​

The bottom line is, if you’re trying to find a modern and cost-effective bag that’ll assist you appear put-with each other, a duplicate bag is a great way to go.​ From my working experience, I am able to mention that it’s unquestionably worth the cash you’ll be shelling out.​

I have also employed various other replicas - including a Kate Spade encouraged reproduction.​ I believed this was a particularly terrific invest in as it gave me the feel of the designer bag with no breaking the lender.​ I been given numerous compliments for it, and it felt like it absolutely was just the proper measurement.​ In addition, it had more than enough element to really make it seem extremely distinctive.​

I've also experimented with a Gucci impressed reproduction that was made from high-top quality resources and a more intricate design.​ It absolutely was Completely stunning, having said that, the depth was a bit far too much And that i felt like it absolutely was as well extravagant for day to day wear.​ I'd personally normally put it aside for special events or evenings out.​

An additional fantastic duplicate I tried out was a Michael Kors motivated bag.​ This was one thing I achieved for Anytime I needed to seem stylish but not overly dressy.​ It absolutely was great for Particular events, but nonetheless relaxed with its minimalistic structure.​ I did locate the straps a little bit quick for me, but very little much too bothersome.​

My knowledge with replica luggage has become constructive In general.​ I obtain them to be a terrific way to get designer appears to be like with out sacrificing a ton of cash.​ I really like that I get to precise my particular type by means of the selection of reproduction luggage I own.​ From time to time I like to exchange them for some thing different, as they sometimes past me about six months prior to breaking down.​

Even so, I do understand that not Every person feels precisely the same way about reproduction baggage.​ Many people think that they’re not definitely worth the funds, and that designer bags are top-quality concerning high quality and magnificence.​ I am able to surely regard that opinion.​ What I do know is, for me, replica luggage are actually an incredible strategy to take a look at many different designs with no breaking the bank.​

The moral in the story is that It is basically not worth it obtaining phony baggage.​ You will discover a lot of threats included and the standard is usually not worth it.​ The original high-quality designer bags have colonial insurance, warranties, good building in addition to far better materials.​ Having to pay just a little additional will assurance you the standard and pleasure of owning a genuine bag.​ In addition to, It truly is unlawful, and versus the ethical code.​ Really don't be fooled into purchasing a fake!

#fake bags online

[classynightmentality]

Don't Make This Silly Mistake With Your menemukan mainan kereta api

In case you are thinking how you can feminize Guys the straightforward way Then you definately have come to the best posting. You will find simple means and challenging approaches and I am planning to rapidly operate you throughout the easy strategies so as to feminize your person or feminize by yourself.™

You must go pick out a pleasant outfit. Not one thing way too flashy but a thing that will provide out your very best assets. You should definitely get something that will go Along with the makeup that you've and that it's something that fits nicely in which it can be suppose to fit.

You must get dwelling and shave your legs especially if you are donning a gown. It might be better to put on stockings using a gown for the reason that this seems to be far more feminine. Be sure to either Obtain your nails done at a salon or do them by yourself. Possibly you also have a Good friend that will do them for you personally. In either case is excellent.

When you are sporting a dress it is usually enjoyable to complete heels. Not as well superior but not as well reduced possibly. If you got pleasant meaty calves then it is excellent to have on a shorter skirt or gown and maybe some better heels. Tend not to crack your neck in them get something which that you are comfy in. Flats are okay mencarimainan as well.

Make sure you Obtain your makeup searching fantastic or not less than have somebody get it done for yourself that is familiar with what they are accomplishing. Ensure you experience several hair kinds so that you could obtain what you prefer the most. Even when you are carrying a wig This is certainly vital to making yourself seem fantastic.

Last of all you may want to make certain that you are doing a double consider in the mirror so that you see every thing straight and Be certain that you glance lovely. And now it really is the perfect time to head out and possess enjoyment. Visit a club or see a good movie. It's possible dinner along with a Motion picture is usually wonderful with that Unique somebody in your life.

In this article Brass HO Trains talks concerning the background of HO Product Trains and how they are often traced again towards the time period quickly soon after Globe War II. The Japanese craftsmen ended up producing exact replicas with the trains making use of high quality brass. The People in america who have been stationed in Japan noticed these and obtained their preferred teach products manufactured employing images. These product trains have been correct to the scale and were being wholly hand-made.

These brass trains had been created from the HO scale, i.e., 1:87 the dimensions of the actual trains. The OO trains, which have been double the dimensions of these HO trains, were additional well-known in United Kingdom, exactly where they were being designed in response into the financial pressures of the melancholy. Though HO trains were being invented from the 1930s, they received level of popularity by the yr fifties, when the curiosity in design railroad as toys was taken about by hobbies of collecting sensible products. Also, the brass O scale trains have been uncovered to acquire up an excessive amount Place. Importers like Max Gray, Westside Product Company did the job of getting the Japanese made trains on the American sector.

Just one benefit of using brass was that it is non-magnetic and so empower the motors to run easily. The crafting and sculpturing is also far more uncomplicated in brass. Many of the models ended up hand-produced and hand-soldered. The brass styles had been purchased by people given that they can run them and make them run about the tracks and scenery that are built utilizing comparable scales, rather then just exhibiting them on Show instances. It essential a great deal of effort around the A part of the worker. As being the need grew, the HO brass design trains started off getting to be costlier.The models that were the moment $fifty to $one hundred now are available in at $ten,000, let alone people who are bought in auctions at about $30,000.

Initial versions of your brass trains weren't painted. The grills, wheels and also other accent areas were even so, nickel-plated. Because the demands of the marketplace grew, some trains were being painted in graphite and black to produce them search realistic. At times, h2o stains and rust marks were being included here and there to really make it seem all the more original.

Step by step, the passions ended up also placing in to have collections from individual company that designed the Brass HO trains. So, the collectibles ended up depending on the street or coach business title that they are accumulating.

The manufacture from the teach designs continued in Japan right up until the 1970s, after which they were manufactured in South Korea. The brand new suppliers experienced quite a bit to further improve, which they did, till the modern day Brass HO trains at the moment are being made and gathered being a hobby and curiosity. A group with the brass trains would not bring in much money as such and folks import them only outside of interest, to generally be appreciated and savored by his fellow collectors.

[mckeehollis56]

Motogp, Signed Valentino Rossi Agv Replica Helmet In Two Wheels For Life Christmas Auctions

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[olderthannetfic]

I have a real stupid question/challenge for you, if you want. (you can also tell me to shoo, i won't be mad lmao)

I have a friend who insists that I'll fall in love with BTS if I give them a chance, based on the fact that I love montero and lemonade. they don't listen when I tell them that 1) just cuz I appreciate a few beautifully-crafted, pop-flavored hip-hop albums, doesn't mean that I now like pop; and 2) I have a raging hate-on for manufactured boy bands that dates back to the new kids on the block era. I'm not mad about them anymore, just can't find it in my limited attention span to engage with manufactured pop groups, even when they're quite good in every measurable way.

I've listened to the big singles and they didn't hook me. i appreciate what they're doing, but it just doesn't appeal to me. 🤷

so, I guess my question to you is, do you know any good BTS songs that might change my mind? anything bluesy or reminiscent of old-school 80s rap? any super 90s throwback tracks? idk, I'm doing my best to be open minded :|

--

BTS has a massive discography, and I dislike plenty of individual songs. I guarantee there's at least one song you'll find tolerable, though whether you'll become a BTS fan is another story.

I have little patience for New Kids, though I do like some bouncy dance music. BTS have a pretty high degree of artistic freedom, considering everything. The packaging is slick. The inside is considerably less hollow than usual. If you've been listening to their recent English-language hits... uh... they have their good points, but I really don't think those are representative of BTS overall—except insofar as they represent their intense desire to win a Grammy.

I'm not great at telling what's like what, so IDK which of their songs best fit your criteria necessarily, but I'll pick a few for you to try. As a listener, I'll think some hip hop sounds familiar, but it's only when I see other people's reviews that I understand what era it's reminding me of. (TBH, what I personally did was make a spreadsheet of everything they'd done, including random soundtrack songs and solo work and just try everything in order.)

--

I might start with the BTS rappers' solo work. Try RM's second mixtape, mono. I like listening to this as soothing background music at night.

Suga goes by Agust D as a solo artist. His song 'Agust D' is one of my favorites. The lyrics to many of their songs are quite clever too, though of course, as a non-Korean speaker, I have to rely on other people's explanation. (The basic content here is "I may be an idol, but I'm still twice the rapper you are".)

J-Hope tends to sound kind of... well... goofy. I like his voice in Baseline.

He did cover Chicken Noodle Soup, which is certainly old, but I don't actually like the original version of that song.

The Cyphers are great: Cypher Pt. 2, Cypher Pt. 3, Cypher Pt. 4.

To get a sense of their wordplay and why it's cool, check out this video where a Korean guy explains Ddaeng.

--

If you want to know who they think their influences are, they outline a bunch of them in Hip Hop Lover.

Dionysus is one of their big showstoppers that I like a lot better than, say, Permission to Dance.

Louder Than Bombs is a favorite of mine.

--

I'm not usually super into the vocalists-only songs, but maybe you'd enjoy some of them. Some people find House of Cards bluesy. Not sure how much I agree.

--

I guess a couple of their older albums are considered particularly oldschool, though maybe that's because of that ultimate scourge of old albums the skit. (Kill it with fire!) Also, I like a lot of the sound, but their fashion at the time, gaaaaah! You can see some images of the full horror on this lyric video to We Are Bulletproof Pt. 2. I like N.O a lot and Satoori Rap. That latter celebrates regional dialects, which is neat.

And one of their better-known songs and one of my personal favorites is Baepsae, an anthem of youthful discontent that makes use of a Korean saying and turns it on its head.

--

And hey, if you loathe all that, you can go listen to Tiger JK as a palate cleanser. RM features on a couple of his songs like MFBTY's Buckubucku and Timeless off of Drunken Tiger X.

[minizode]

memory

pairing: jay / f!reader

wordcount: 3.3k

genre: angst, comfort

warning: breakups, evil management, hurt feelings, enhypen being crazy, jay is kind of an ass in the beginning, female pronouns

+ summary: jay breaks up with his girlfriend of two years. why?

note! hey! this is my first fic on kpop tumblr... i really hope you guys like it. i’m pretty bad at writing angst but i’ve had this idea in my head for such a long time that i really wanted to post it for more people to see! also this is in third person, so pls lmk if you’d prefer second person because i couldn’t decide

“y/n!” Jay called from the door.

Backstage was crowded with people bustling from left to right, preparing for the next performance. Jay stood tall and searched the crowd for the face of his girlfriend.

His saving grace, y/n’s bandmate, saw Jay and caught her attention, motioning her to the door where Jay was. She smiled and quickly maneuvered past the staff members to stand in front of him.

“Hey,” she smiled. “Good job on your performance, by the way, you looked really good up there.” She paused.“But why are you here? I have like… five minutes until I need to be on stage.”

“Thank you.” Jay nodded and pushed his hands into his pockets. “And I know, but Heeseung-Hyung said I needed to tell you this as soon as possible.”

“Okay! Can we just go over there? It’s really hard to hear you,” She motioned for him to follow her to a space behind some boxes of equipment. “Can you help me?” She said with the sweetest smile, and Jay felt his heart crack a little more down the middle. She held out the wires for her mic pack, which he took quickly and turned her around. 

“So, we’ve been dating for a long time,” Jay started as he plugged the wires into the small black box on the waistband of her shorts. “You know, it’s almost our one-thousand days.” 

y/n giggled and nodded.  “Five more days, yeah.”

Jay took a breath and pursed his lips as he pulled her hair to the side, exposing soft skin on the back of her neck. He bit back every urge he had to rest his head there and adjusted her mic before turning her around to face him. “Well, don’t you think it’s been a little too long?”

y/n’s eyebrows furrowed together, surely ruining her makeup and creating creases.  “What are you trying to say?”

“Just… don’t you think it’s time to focus on ourselves? We’re progressing with our lives and-”

y/n’s scoff cut him off. “Just say you’re bored of me, Jay. Just say it.” Her tone had taken a complete shift from what it had sounded like mere seconds ago.

“That’s not what I’m saying, y/n.” He sighed. “I just want you to be happy, I want to be happy too.”

“But I am happy,” she rebutted. 

“Not as happy as you could be. Our relationship is the same routine, nothing new is happening. I mean, I’ve finally debuted… don’t you think it’s about time for us to move on?”

y/n let out a laugh of disbelief. “Is that not what a relationship is supposed to be? We’re supposed to be comfortable… and you didn’t seem to have a problem with that when I debuted.”

“We can’t be together forever, y/n. That’s just not realistic,” Jay muttered and pursed his lips. y/n shook her head.

“And I thought…” she sighed and ran a hand through her freshly curled hair, ruining that too. “Whatever. I don’t have time for this,” she said, turning on her heel and walking toward the entrance of the stage right as the staff called her name. “We’re over, Jay. Have a good life.”

And with that, she walked on stage, a perfectly crafted smile on her face.

Jay got back to his seat just by the time the music started.

“Did you do it?” Sunghoon asked with hesitancy. 

Jay nodded and turned to the stage. Automatically, his eyes flickered towards y/n, as though it was an impulse. To any normal person, she would look fine. Happy, even. Her makeup didn’t look creased and her hair looked fine; she looked beautiful as always. She was smiling when she sang her part, she shone just as brightly as her other members. However, Jay knew her better than anyone; he could see the sadness mixed with anger in her eyes. But she was a professional, and as always, managed to mask her feelings with the factory manufactured expressions on her face.

“Was she mad?” Niki asked from beside Jay. He turned to Niki and shrugged.

“I think so.”

“You should have waited,” Sunoo muttered. “Telling her right before her performance was a dirty move, even for you.”

Jay scoffed, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Just as Sunoo opened his mouth to contradict, Jungwon placed his hands on both of their shoulders. “Stop fighting, guys. You can discuss all you want back at the dorms. Just not in public, people are watching.”

The other members watched Jay roll his eyes and turn his attention back to the performance. 

The song was reaching its end; the climax, y/n’s part. She was singing with passion and fervor, Jay would even go as far to say that she sounded, and looked, better than ever. The tears in her eyes made it all the more powerful. 

And then, just like that, it was over. Her chest heaved as she smiled at the camera. There was an emotion on her face that he couldn’t quite place, but it didn’t matter, because they were over. He would never see her face again.

y/n laid in her bed, watching the dust specks glide through the sunlight, landing upon her bedsheets. There, strewn upon them, was the black sweatshirt of Jay’s that reminded her of all the things she had a day ago. It reminded her of everything she lost over one simple conversation.

Part of her wished she had ignored him at that doorway; she wished she didn’t take him to a quieter area, she wished she didn’t ask him for help with her mic pack, she wished she hadn’t even let him speak. Maybe then, the conversation would’ve been saved for a better day. 

She was confused; why did he break up with her? It was so out of the blue, so random. It hadn’t even occurred in her mind that they would ever break up. y/n had never experienced a break up before. Was it normal to feel this bad?

She knew, upon hearing her friends’ ailments, that it sucked. But y/n had never realized the true meaning of heartbreak until now. But she wasn’t crying… was she supposed to cry? Was she supposed to feel something? Right now, she only felt numb. Like she was a speck of dust floating in the cold winter sunlight and falling onto her bedsheets. 

There was a soft knock on her door. Silence for a second, then another series of knocks, followed by the door opening. Due to the layout of her room, she couldn’t see the door, nor the person coming inside. She thought it was one of her members again, telling her to come to eat or drink some water, to go shower or use the bathroom, or even just get out of bed and change into something else to save her from wallowing in a well of sadness. What she didn’t expect, however, was the gentleness of the leader of Enhypen, one of her closest friends. 

“y/n,” his voice was warm, just like the hesitant hand on her shoulder. “You need to get up.”

Her body turned so she could face him. He looked tired; dark bags under his eyes. His irises were lacking their usual stars, and his lips were pale. What happened to him?

“Are you okay?” were the first words that left her lips from last night. Her throat was dry, it felt like sandpaper. It showed in her voice; the scratchiness of it. 

Jungwon sighed and sat on the edge of her bed. “This isn’t about me, noona. Minju called and told me you haven’t even gotten out of bed since after the show last night.” He brought his face closer to hers with his eyebrows turned down. “Did you even take off your makeup?”

She shook her head. 

He sighed again. For a sixteen-year-old, Jungwon sighed more than a disappointed old man. “Please get out of bed. You’ll die at this rate.”

A hoarse giggle escaped her throat and she ran her hands down her face. “I think that’s a little overdramatic.”

“No, I’m serious! For real… I thought you guys would be able to take care of yourselves. Turns out a kid two years younger than you has to take care of you because you’re both too stupid to do it yourself.”

“Hey!” she sat up in her bed. “That’s rude, Jungwon.”

“You know what’s rude?” Jungwon said. “Ignoring your basic human needs and making the people close to you worried!” Jungwon never raised his voice, let alone at someone who was older than him.  Was he really this worked up? “It’s nearly four P.M, noona. You haven’t eaten anything since last night. At least Jay-Hyung is doing better than you… at least he got up. Even if he’s so upset that he’s been playing games all day, at least he’s taking care of himself.”

y/n’s face twisted to annoyance. “Upset?” she scoffed. “Why in the name of God would he be upset? He’s the one who broke up with me.”

“You don’t think he feels bad?”

Silence engulfed the room. y/n had known Jay for three years, dated him for two. In all that time of knowing him, one thing was for certain; he always tried his best to not show his negative emotions. That was one of the things that tested their relationship almost constantly. He never told her when he was upset because he knew she would feel guilty for it. He never wanted to hurt her, even though it ended up hurting her more by finding out through other people. Even now, they experience the same thing. 

“Then why did he break up with me?” y/n’s voice was small. “We were happy… at least I thought we were. He even planned a big date for our one-thousand days on Monday,” she didn’t realize her voice was shaking until Jungwon pulled her into a hug.

“I think the only way you’ll be able to figure out the answers to everything is if you talk to him yourself. I can comfort you, but you won't be able to get closure unless you talk to him.”

y/n pulled away and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t think I can get more upset than this so…” she trailed off. “Maybe it’s worth a shot? Besides, I have a lot of stuff to do and I can’t let this plague my mind anymore otherwise I’ll get in trouble with my manager,” she let out a teary laugh. Jungwon giggled with her and nodded his head.

“You can come with me back to the dorm. But only after you get ready and eat some food.”

y/n sat on the grey futon in the boys’ living room. She had been there several times ever since they had moved in, but something was different this time; Jay wasn’t sitting beside her. It felt wrong sitting on the center cushion without the warmth of a body beside her. Well, there were actually two boys sitting beside her trying to cheer her up, but it didn’t feel the same.

“He’ll be back in an hour or so,” Heeseung had told her. “He and Niki went out to get some groceries.”

y/n watched as Sunghoon chased Sunoo around the living room with a spatula that held a fried egg (one that y/n had actually cooked for them when she arrived. Why Sunghoon was chasing Sunoo rather than eating it was beyond her). Jungwon and Jake sat on either side of her, laughing at the ungraceful occurrence before them. Heeseung walked out of the bathroom and into the living room, running face-first into Sunghoon, who splatted the egg all over his shirt. 

Amongst the commotion of y/n grabbing a towel to help Heeseung and Jake getting him a new shirt, the door opened and the two missing boys arrived in the apartment. Upon hearing Jay’s greeting of “We’re home!”, y/n frantically looked around the room for an escape. She resorted to hiding behind Sunghoon and Sunoo, who were bickering about who’s fault it was. 

Too bad that Jay was as sharp as an eagle. He saw her the moment he and Niki walked into the living room. 

The deafening silence that followed raised goosebumps on everyone’s skin. Jay looked over each of his members’ faces before finding the guilty look on Jungwon’s; a dead giveaway. Jay pressed his lips in a tight line before leaving the room, probably going to the kitchen to put away the groceries. 

“Um…” Sunoo turned to y/n. “Maybe you should come back later… he looks like he’s in a bad mood,” he whispered.

“He’s only in a bad mood because Jungwon brought her here.”

“Well they need to talk, it’s not my fault he decided to end things that way.”

“He should’ve been more considerate of her feelings.”

Niki, who had been silent the entire time, walked over to y/n and opened his arms for a hug. It made her smile slightly. The youngest was always somewhat reserved around her. Maybe it was because she was a girl, or maybe it’s just because he didn’t know her as well as he would’ve liked. But he probably caught onto the fact that she wasn’t in a good headspace, and he was a good-hearted kid, so he just wanted to show her he cared. 

“You should just talk to him now,” Niki said lowly. “Jay-Hyung!” he yelled, and all the other members looked at him in shock. “Come here!”

In seconds, Jay appeared in the doorway. The other boys looked around at each other before moving out of the way. 

“We’ll give you guys some space,” Jake said softly before leaving the room. The others followed suit. 

y/n stood in the middle of the room, looking at the patterned socks on her feet. Her large hoodie hung to her mid-thighs, covering the denim shorts she wore underneath. She was never too good at confrontation… it was scary and there were so many factors to consider. But she had to do it this time.

Jay stood in front of her and reached out to grab her hand, running his thumb across her knuckles, something he knew calmed her down in most situations. But right now, it only made her feel worse. Didn’t he hate her?

“What did you wanna talk about?” he said slowly, cautiously.

She breathed in quickly and looked up at him before speaking. “I just… I just need to know why. Why did you want to end things? Two people in love can’t just break up one day, you know? It has to have been some build-up. What was it? What did I do?”

Jay hummed and looked down at their connected hands. “I was going to just continue on the lie I told you back at the show but,” he paused and shook his head, looking back up at her. “I can’t keep lying to you. It kills me too much.”

y/n looked confused. “What does that mean?”

“You know how when I got the chance to be in the show, they didn’t really like the idea of us dating?”

She nodded, a signal for him to continue.

“Well, the company said that now that I’ve debuted, it’s an even bigger problem. It would be fine if you weren’t an idol, but you are. And they don’t like how famous you are compared to us, I guess?” Jay looked torn. y/n’s group was one of the most popular girl groups on the charts. “They think that people will find out about our relationship, and that will bring down our reputation, apparently.”

“Seriously?” y/n pulled her hand from his. “That’s… the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m not lying, baby. I would never lie to you about this.”

y/n walked backward before sitting on the couch and putting her face in her hands. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, Jay. It’s just… that’s so stupid. Why would they make you break up with me now? Why didn’t they talk about this earlier? And why didn’t you just tell me? I would’ve understood.” She sounded hurt. Understandable, considering the words leaving his mouth. “I, of all people, would understand. I know how important this is to you. Don’t you think I would’ve listened if you just told me the truth?”

“I just thought that if I made up something, it would be easier for you to move on. Because now, you know I never lost feelings for you. I just can’t bring my group down incase anything ever got out to the public.”

y/n’s lips quivered. “So… so that’s it then?” her voice was threatening to crack. Her throat was tight and sore, and it felt like if she made one wrong move she would break. “We’re just going to end things like this?”

“What other choice do we have? I don’t want you to get caught involved with a scandal… That would ruin your career more than it would mine.”

She sniffled. “I just wish that things were different.”

“Hey,” he stepped closer to her. “Please don’t cry. It won’t be fair to both of us.” 

He was right, as he always was. She couldn’t cry; it wouldn’t be fair. Because life was never fair to them. It pushed them to the extremes and they always came back intact, holding each other tightly so they wouldn’t lose the pieces. Like when her grandfather was sick, or when Jay had to move away. When they couldn’t contact each other for months, or when she got injured when he was gone. Life was unfair, but they had to make it through.

Her heart was unsettled, thumping weakly against her chest as she stared up at the boy. His platinum blond hair brushed over his eyes and she moved it away. He gently smiled down at her. 

She wanted to close her eyes and pretend everything that happened was fake; she wanted to wake up from this nightmare of a reality. But she knows she can’t. So her eyes searched his face as she remembered everything they’ve done together; everything he’s made her feel. Her heart was shattering all over again, each piece a memory from her life with him that she would have to move on from. Each piece that she would have to pick up when he left because they were too valuable to be left on the ground. 

But no matter what, y/n would not cry, because it wouldn’t be fair for Jay. 

“Not crying.” she nodded her head. Tears pooled around the corner of her eyes. Jay could see them, and his heart trembled a little. But he has to do this, for both of them. It wasn’t fair, it never would be. They didn’t sign up for this when they signed those contracts. But this is what they needed to do, and upon seeing that she listened and supported him, he didn’t want to make it any harder for her than it already was. 

Jay smiled a teary, broken smile. He sniffled and blinked away the tears beginning to sting at his own eyes. He nodded his head in agreement and reached his hand out to run his fingers through her messy hair. His heart wanted one thing, but his head told him something else. It would be okay for him to be selfish for a spare five seconds, right? It wouldn’t hurt, he guessed. So he leaned down and pressed a soft, sparing kiss on her lips. It was short, but it spoke more than a thousand words.

Please take care of yourself, please stay safe, stay healthy. Thank you for loving me, thank you for letting me love you. His soul tears a little when he pulls away, but he quickly holds himself together. He couldn’t break in front of her. It wouldn’t be fair.

note! ahh okay! that’s it that’s the end!! i actually really dislike this, now that i’ve read it over and over again. i’m not too good at this type of stuff, but maybe i’ll get better in the future. i hope you guys liked it, at least a little, and it wasn’t a waste of your time. @nico-nico-niki​ , since you wanted to be tagged <3

#jay x reader #park jay x reader #jay park x reader #enhypen jay x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #park jeongseong x reader #jeongseong x reader #enhypenwriters

[doorsclosingslowly]

They've Made of Our Bodies a Bleeding Stair

Jesper and Kaz try to retrieve Inej from Ketterdam without being recognized and murdered—and without Kaz getting ransomed back to Ravka as the the wayward Sun Summoner.

11k | Sun Summoner Kaz AU pt. 2 | Jesper/Kaz, Inej, past Kaz/Darkling content note: non-linear narrative, explicit sex, roleplay of past rape

“I want you to be him.”

“Of course,” Jesper replies. Then, articulately, once his brain’s caught up, “Uh. What?”

“The Darkling.” Kaz has turned his face away. He’s looking at the ramshackle marriage bed that takes up the bulk of this room he’s lured Jesper into. He unerringly picked the right closed door, too; he skipped the squeaky floorboards, as if he knew the exact layout of this—but it’s Kaz. He knows everything, even some dilapidated house in the Kerch countryside. The bed was probably a masterpiece of craftsmanship, when it was carved from some dark wood, a thousand years ago or whatever. The way it looks, it must’ve been old already when the previous owners of this farmhouse got it, and from the state of the house, they abandoned this place decades ago. Quite a lot of the furniture’s missing, either sold off when the place was left or stolen afterwards, but that bed was too worthless already.

The mattress is still there too. Probably fucking teeming with moth larvae and maggots and their combined accumulated shit, so it doesn’t bode too well for Jesper, how forcefully Kaz is staring at it.

“Please say it doesn’t involve the bed.”

“You said yes,” Kaz rasps, which is all the information Jesper needs to start gagging. Fake-gagging, for now, but if he sees even one wriggly little worm he’ll…

Bed. Darkling. That still doesn’t really… Want you to be him—oh—

“Yes, Jesper.” And how the hell with his ramrod tense back still turned towards Jesper—Jesper, who’s done nothing at all, hasn’t said anything except to register his displeasure at the idea of bathing in insect faeces and their squirming little manufacturers!—how the hell Kaz has realized that Jesper’s figured out what he probably means—it must be a confidence trick. Kaz likes those. But how—yeah, it’s not the point, but trying to understand whatever magic Kaz is using on him right now is much, much better for Jesper’s sanity than dwelling on the fact that Kaz might just have insinuated that he wants Jesper to pretend to be the Darkling, specifically the Darkling from that time he told Jesper about back in the Little Palace, the time he threw up after. The time he thought he could suppress his discomfort with touch long enough to seduce the Darkling into a partnership—seduce seduce, which means he wants—to flirt with Jesper? To sleep with Jesper? Is he actually saying he—

Oh. There’s a cracked mirror on the wall above the bed. That’s how Kaz saw his face.

Jesper would chalk the hallucination up to a hangover, but he’s not even drunk. Neither is Kaz, unless this old ruin of a farmhouse they broke into this morning is hiding barrels of wine the local youth haven’t made off with yet. Also, if he was hallucinating Kaz propositioning him he would—well, Jesper at least hopes he’d have enough self-respect not to make himself a stand-in for the man who bought and imprisoned Kaz for two years, controlled him by using his fears and modifying his body and cutting him off from every other person in the whole court, taking every single object he could have used to protect himself, and whatever those weird spines in Kaz’ chest are he’s probably responsible for them too. Jesper would not, actually, like the first and probably only time he’s allowed to kiss Kaz to be some kind of revenge-by-proxy thing where he recites the Darkling’s lines while Kaz swallows back bile, and then Kaz beats him up. Or murders him. It’s pathetic, but Jesper always imagined that kiss a little sweeter. Kissing over Haskell’s corpse. Kissing over the Darkling’s corpse. Kissing over the corpse of some other piece of shit who’s stupid enough to try using Kaz as their possession.

“Just warning you, I don’t have the costume or the script, so don’t expect something worthy of the Komedie Brute,” is what Jesper says instead.

Kaz’ eyebrow quirks. “You’re acted before, haven’t you? Improvised. You can flirt your way into anything. That was the main reason I kept you around.”

“You kept me around because I’m gorgeous, funny, and an incredible shot. I just play myself, if it’s seduction! Why would I improve upon perfection?”

“This isn’t seduction. He’s already locked me in the Little Palace for months at this point. Two escape attempts have failed. This is… speeding up the process,” Kaz says, nonchalantly enough it makes Jesper want to puke.

Which won’t help anything. He’s already agreed. And Kaz doesn’t care about moral objections, only practical ones. “I need more info. I haven’t actually met the Darkling.”

“You’ve met powerful men. You’ve met men who believe their righteous cause entitles them. You’ve met men mired in greed and vengeance—you’ve met me.”

“I like you.”

“Pretend you don’t, then. You used to complain about me in the Slat—of course I know, I knew everything that went on in the Dregs. You hated the way I seemed to know everything, and held it over you—so does he. You disliked my single-minded focus, the way you all seemed like pawns to me, my mockery. The way I held myself as something far superior to you. That’s a start.” Kaz limps a slow quarter circle around Jesper, and his dark eyes are burning with loathing. Jesper would hold him if he could. “You’re not asking why?”

“Uh, now that you mention—”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

Jesper sighs. Of course. He’s never expected anything else. Then he stands up straight, assuming his best the stick in my ass is so long it’s knocked the word fun from my brain pose that hopefully may pass for authoritative and slimes out, “What business, Mr Brekker?”

“Sun Summoner. Or Sunshine. He figured out Brekker’s a fake name on the first day.”

“Kaz Brekker’s a fake name?!” Jesper should have seen that coming, really… what does he even know about Kaz Brekker, truly? Except—

“It’s a name. It’s real enough. It’s feared. It’s mine.” Kaz’s eyes travel over the cobwebbed wall of the farmhouse bedroom, as if he was searching for the next lie to spin. Except that isn’t one of Kaz’ tells—Jesper’s seen him bamboozle and convince marks of the most stupid tales, and when Kaz wants them to believe him, he looks earnest. Young, depending on the role he plays, old, eager, stupid or wise. He doesn’t bother lying to Dregs, or rather: he doesn’t bother convincing them, usually. All his words are backed by the brutality of his cane. Who could be stupid enough to question even his weirdest utterances. “It just happens not to be one I was born with.”

“So what you’re saying is, the Darkling’s just not Kerch enough to get you?” Jesper grins. “Ketterdam, really—you know, I always really liked that about the Barrel, that healthy dose of ‘You are who you want and we don’t give a fuck to correct you.’ Anyway. Got it. You’re Kaz Brekker, but he’s a dick. Mr Sunbeam, what brings you into my office this evening?”

“The fete, Aleks.” Kaz shrugs off his coat, and then the purple kefta, too. He holds out the kefta in front of him, like he’s expecting Jesper to put it on. Well. That’s as good a start as any, and so Jesper turns and lets Kaz dress him into the robe he never wanted to wear.

“Then he says, ‘You must be nervous. After all, there are few gatherings in the Ketterdam slums that involve such spectacle.’” Kaz has sanded down his rasp somewhat, sounding almost smooth and seductive. He goes into a spiel of the Ravkan court and the inferiority of the Barrel that thankfully, he carries all by himself. Jesper wouldn’t even know what to say, except ‘Stop talking shit about the Barrel, you prick’ and that’s not exactly in character.

Kaz’ eyes periodically dart down to Jesper’s hands, and he realizes he’s fidgeting with the hem of the kefta’s sleeves. He stops.

“I am ready,” Kas says in his normal voice. His normal talking to a mark voice. “I realized what this demonstration represents—that I belong to something greater. It is as you said—we can offer Grisha and Ravkans hope. We. Together.” He stands up straight. Equally on both his legs. He winces. He’s not holding his cane, Jesper realizes. He’s not wearing his gloves. “I am ready to stand by your side. We should be partners. The Sun and the Dark.”

“Uh… great. We’ll be great together. Do great things. Better partners than enemies. Some of those rumours even freaked me out, you know—that kid with the wind-up toy in his throat—”

“Think before you speak, Jesper,” Kaz hisses. “Never let me lead. Never give me control. Every word is a cue to corral your prey where you want it—whether a compliment or a barely-there hidden threat.”

“Is that what you do?”

“Sometimes.” Kaz meets Jesper’s eyes. The tense mask of his face breaks into a smirk. “To be honest, I find the subtle craft of manipulation is wasted on you. You’ll obey anyway. Let’s go back to the start, and focus.”

Jesper shrugs off the kefta again and then lets Kaz dress him, again. He does his best imitation of Kaz, of that early Kaz before Jesper learned how he takes his coffee and before he saw the brutal twist of his face, that one time when the Dime Lions had Jesper on his knees and shoved a gun in his mouth. He plays the imperious tactician in his office who told his goons to drag Jesper up four flights of stairs with a bag over his head, ready to be shot for his debts, and then sold him on the one thing that gave his life meaning.

He insults Dirtyhands’ father and mother to his face, and gets really into it, too: Ketterdam’s full of idiots who’d miss the love of their life because they were busy trying to pry cobblestones off the streets to sell for half a sausage, and the harbour’s so filthy even the fish won’t fuck in it—keeping the brothels in good fish-ness, haha. Because the fish rent rooms so they don’t get fishy sex diseases from the water. Do fish get diseases from sex?

“Kill me now,” Kaz moans, and that one’s probably deserved.

“Anyway, my Sun Summoner, I’m sure you’ll perform well,” Jesper says with just the tiniest hint of slime.

“I am ready. I realized what this demonstration represents—that I belong to something greater. It is as you said—we can offer Grisha and Ravkans hope. We. Together.”

Jesper moves slowly, idly: not caging him in against the bed yet but definitely implying he can and will.

“I am ready to stand by your side. We should be partners. The Sun and the Dark.” Kaz swallows. “‘That means a lot to me. You mean a lot,’ is what you say now.”

How come the Darkling’s not constantly slipping on his own slimy slime trail?

“That means a lot to me.” Jesper gives Kaz a deep, smouldering look. The pockmarks on his cheeks. The jumping muscle in his jaw. The hint of a pained grimace from standing unaided. The boyish grin when he’s totally fucked over another gang boss and gets to gloat. The vicious hatred when someone touches his Crows. Licking powdered sugar off his gloves. “You mean a lot.”

And that’s it. The way Kaz looks at him—this is when the Darkling makes his move.

“I have been waiting for you for so long,” Jesper purrs smarmily, closing his eyes, moving in for the kiss, and—Kaz isn’t there anymore.

It was a single step backwards, because Kaz has hit the edge of the bed already, face blotched with humiliation, and the way he looks at Jesper is—angry is the least terrible interpretation. If he backs out now, Kaz is going to kill him for pitying him or catering to a weakness that honestly—how is not wanting this weak? But Kaz is Kaz, and Jesper’s just Jesper, and—

“Focus,” Kaz hisses. “You own Ravka. You will own the Sun, too. You have waited for this triumph—take it.”

“Why don’t we take this to the—” fuck you, Brekker, for making me say this— “bed, then? Take off your clothes. Don’t be scared.”

That’s a good dig. The kind of insult that looks super caring, unless you know Kaz enough to understand he sees any crack in his image as a dangerous failure. Jesper’s getting the hang of this malicious flirting thing, finally. When this is over, he’ll need to scrub the slime off himself twice.

Kaz looks at Jesper while he disrobes. At him, Jesper hopes against hope, at the real person he’s roped into his worst scheme yet with a goal that’s still totally obscure; at Jesper and not the asshole he’s imagining in his place. Kaz’ eyes trace his cheeks, dance over his shaved head, catch on the lips.

Jesper takes off his boots and gun belt, and the kefta. He undoes the fly of his trousers, pulls his dick out, and stops. He glares at Kaz, daring him to object to the attempt at making this slightly less miserable—Jesper’s the Darkling, he’s in charge, so Kaz can fuck off with his masochism. He’s done undressing. He’s not taking off his shirt or trousers. That layer of cloth stays on.

But Kaz doesn’t object. He stands up straight, naked, brittle, wincing, and then glancing away he mutters, “Ignore the antlers. He hadn’t done that yet.”

Fucking Darkling.

The antlers stick out of Kaz’ collarbones, uneven tines of—possession, mutilation, and Jesper’s eyes catch on a tiny set of grooves on the left one. The scabbed-over cuts underneath. The bruise from the gunshot. And even despite that horror, Kaz has a nice chest. Serious muscle, a street map of scars and a smattering of dark hairs—it feels weirdly improper to stare at him, so Jesper’s eyes dance down to his knobbly left knee and the softly twisted right thigh with its knots of scars, up to the face where he’s biting his harsh pretty mouth, and down again. His dick is nice, fat but not too long, rooted in a tangle of dark curls.

It’s utterly limp.

It’s pathetic, how much that hurts. Of course he isn’t into this. Of course he doesn’t find Jesper remotely attractive. Of course this is just some weird masochistic proxy powerplay for him, some attempt to prove he’s stronger now and can bear it or whatever the fuck, and Jesper’s just the sad stupid body he’s using to enact it.

And of course not even that is enough to make Jesper bow out. Kaz asked.

“Do you want me to suck you off first? Get you in the mood, even a little?” It’s not just for Kaz, that offer, though the whole thing will probably be less painful and awkward if he manages to coax out some arousal. It’s not for younger Jesper, who fantasized about being ordered to blow his boss as penance more often than he likes to admit. No, this is so Jesper can bury his face in Kaz’ pubic hair for a minute. And cry.

Kaz raises an eyebrow. He sounds arch and ice cold when he asks, “Jesper, do you think the Darkling would suck my dick?”

“He should have. Saints, what an asshole,” Jesper shoots back before he can think. “You need a better class of lovers.”

“By which you’re of course implying that you are much better than Aleksander Morozova, the General Kirigan, the Black Heretic, eternal Conqueror and crowned Emperor of Greater Ravka, Salvation to Grishadom, Master of the Fold and He who chained the Sun, et cetera and so fucking on and so fucking forth the Darkling himself?”

“Given I just offered you a blowjob without bringing useless power shit into it, yes.”

“Wrong data, incoherent formula. Correct answer.” Kaz’ grin is crooked. Inordinately fond, and Jesper would have settled for no longer desperately hiding terror but this is—

Yeah.

“I’m going to try to make this roleplay as realistic as I can, but I don’t know if I can forget enough about how to have sex to sink to the Darkling’s level. Also, you don’t happen to have the address of that Grisha Tailor who mutilated you back there? I need them to make my dick look weird. Corkscrew, maybe. Some warts. It’s probably green. I’d peg him for advanced neurological syphilis but I am about to sleep with you, so— ”

“Did you know, Jesper, that the Darkling always wears a gag when he has sex?”

“Shutting up now, boss.”

“Don’t shut up,” Kaz replies instantly. Very, very instantly. “Just keep your disparagements somewhat plausible. And… rare.”

Only to jolt me back, he’s asking. “Got it. So I guess I’m supposed to loom over you a little? How close do you want me?”

“I’ll need to—” Kaz turns around and bends over to root around in the pockets of his coat, and it’s even weirder, worse, looking at his ass when Jesper knows Kaz doesn’t like him back. Kaz tosses over a tiny bottle. Oil. “Give that to me. Tell me to prepare myself.”

“Just saying it once more, boss. You don’t have to go through with—”

“Stop thinking about the Kaz Brekker you know,” Kaz hisses. “Stop anticipating my reactions. Stop caring. You are the Darkling. You have been waiting for the Sun Summoner for decades. You’ve formed your picture of them. This delinquent flinching little rat you bought doesn’t quite fit, not his limp, not his fear of touch, not his pathetic need to assert himself, but, well… you have time. He’ll learn how to make himself fit into the space you provide him. He’ll become your Sun Summoner.”

“Have I told you yet that I’m going to kill that piece of shit?”

“You’ve mentioned it, once or twice. In the last hour.”

Jesper bares his teeth: a grin, but not. A promise. “Good. I’ll hold his mouth open while you stuff him full of black powder and set him on fire.”

“Stop stalling, Jesper. That won’t make it any easier.”

That won’t make it not have happened.

“If you’re sure this will help.”

Kaz nods.

“Lie down on the bed, then. Is there a—no, no pillows here, roll up the coat and slide it under your hips.” Jesper turns his face away, listening to the timid, stuttering squelches of Kaz stretching his asshole. Jesper doesn’t know what would be worse: if, after everything, he can’t get it up… or if he can.

Well. He’ll have to. His dick will just have to obey the dictates of the situation, just as Kaz’ body was made into the Sun Summoner. He’s young. He’s still looking at Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, naked, who asked Jesper to sleep with him, and that’ll have to be enough. They’ve gotten this far. They’ll force their way through. That’s how you do it. That’s how you gamble. How you lose big. Kaz might have once tried to explain to him something about sunk costs and throwing good money after bad, but Jesper ignored him that night and lost a hundred and twenty kruge to Specht, and he’s never looked back.

“Okay, Mr Sunshine. Let’s consummate our fucking partnership,” he grinds out when Kaz has gone quiet, takes the bottle to slick up his own uncooperative dick, and carefully, he climbs on top of Kaz. The clothes were a good decision: Kaz barely flinches when he kneels in-between his legs and pulls the sleeve over his hand to carefully guide his right knee to rest on Jesper’s thigh.

Kaz is staring up at his face, breathing, just breathing. The antlers in his collarbone frame his bright face—brighter than the candles should allow, like maybe—and his focus is rigid and he’s breathing, breathing quickly—

“Is this teaching you anything yet?”

“Not really,” Kaz rasps, after too long. “Or—I think—maybe it was—” he glances at Jesper’s pathetic, unhappy limp dick. His face twists. “I thought you were into me.”

This is— “I love you. Kaz Brekker, whoever you are. I don’t give a fuck about this Sun Summoner bullshit. I love you. I love you,” because this is—Jesper can’t do this. He can’t. His elbows are locked: he can’t drop his body any lower. He can't go lower than this. “I love you,” until it’s finally over. “I love you. I love you.”

☼

“And I’m telling you again, I don’t know what he does Tuesday evenings,” Jesper hisses.

“You were still with the Dregs, three months ago!” Kaz is wiping his cane clean. It didn’t even really get dirty—they mostly used kitchen knives to do the deed, and in the case of a maidservant who unwisely came to work in the middle of the night, a bullet that Jesper’s already collected and reshaped into something functional, because he might not get to buy new ones. Desperation. Frugality. The Kerch are rubbing off on him. It’s good, though. The fact he’s cleaning the wood is all the confirmation Jesper will likely ever get that Kaz does like the new cane Jesper made him from a cute straight rowan sapling, reinforced with the metal scavenged from all but the most essential buttons on their hodgepodge of clothes. At least there’s one thing of Jesper’s he values. “How can you not know the behavioural patterns of your boss? Are you that brainless?”

“No-one knew what he was up to! He barely came by the Slat. He wasn’t that interested in us.”

“You worked for Per Haskell, Jesper; you worked for that man for years—for nearly as many as I did, when you ran off to Ravka—and now you attempt to convince me you barely know his name?” Kaz still doesn’t look quite as harsh as he used to, or maybe that’s just Jesper hankering for their past. Well, he didn’t used to explain his plans to Jesper as if he was an imbecile—but then, he didn’t used to need Jesper. He had more stooges back then. Now, he only has one. Ally. Friend.

If it’s as weird for him, though, as it is for Jesper being back in Ketterdam after he didn’t die on his revenge suicide plot and the city didn’t, either—well, he might still get murdered for stealing the Sun Summoner or skipping out on debts or something completely unrelated, and Ketterdam’s… well, she’s weathering having her ruling class torn apart twice in short order, once by the Darkling’s conquest and now, by the slow collapse of the Darkling’s overstretched realm after he’s lost his saint/weapon/doll.

The Barrel’s fine—as glary and miserable as it ever was, anyway, but though Kaz would probably insist most of the Mercher’s Council had their hands in gang business one way or the other, their reach was indirect, mediated and secretive enough for the chaos tearing up the Geldstraat not to trickle down as quickly into the slums. And anyway, the involvement of the merchers only ever made life worse for most people. The plight of the rich can only be a blessing.

Right now, they’re inside a nice place in the Zelver district. Close enough to power to feel the death throes, and even disregarding the political manoeuvring and debris and panic everywhere, just looking at the house from the outside made Kaz twitchy, somehow.

His energy almost matched Jesper’s trigger finger.

It’s Haskell’s house, so that unease makes sense.

Haskell’s expensive secret new house far outside the Barrel that they’re despoiling now. They looked as out of place in the beautiful Zelver district as any Barrel rats, with their heads shorn close to the bone so they’ll look different enough to not get recognized and faces wiped with dirt, dressed in a melange of Ravkan clothes they haven’t found a chance to replace yet and tawdry Barrel flash for everything else.

Kaz was wearing two coats when he entered the house, an old rose and amber paisley trench that even Jesper admitted is hideous, though now it’s splattered with blood that actually really ties the colour scheme together. Still gross though, and luckily slung over the chair. Along with the purple kefta Kaz hid underneath, the one he still hasn’t given back. Or burned, which is what they did to the other Ravkan overcoats. On the streets his two coats bulked up his frame so much he looked like a kid that Jesper’s never met, dressed up to play a gangster’s role. He looked nothing like the Sun Summoner anymore, and only somewhat like Jesper’s imagined baby Dirtyhands crawling out straight from the harbour, fifty kilos sopping wet and ready to kill a man and feast on his entrails.

Now, he’s stripped down to a ruffled red shirt over a green undershirt—he conspicuously shunned the yellow one next to it on the washing line—and light blue pinstripe trousers. The shirt is a little large in the shoulders, and he’s cuffed the trousers. They stole everything from a cottage on the edge of Ketterdam. Not quite Barrel flash, but almost—alike in style but with better fabric, something a town edge kid probably bought to look like a cool gangster. Or something Jesper would have bought to look special for a very special date. If he squints, he can almost imagine—it’s the morning after, and—

Ever since the Little Palace the idea of Kaz naked has totally lost its lustre. The idea of his muscular but scrawny, scarred chest, his wiry tattooed arms, his ambiguously demonic hands—it’s all overlaid now with a flimsy ugly sleeveless yellow paper taffeta gown. With normal hands, kept bare as humiliation.

But maybe—maybe they sat together, not on a log in a forest but on a sofa this time, and then in the morning Kaz was cold and he stole all of Jesper’s clothes to wear over his own. That’s much better. (Maybe he just wanted Jesper naked all day…)

Jesper won’t let the Darkling steal his fantasies, too. They’re—

Ouch. Fucking ouch.

Jesper really shouldn’t have added tiny spiky worms to the side of the cane, but Kaz’ indignation was just too funny.

“Let me make this clear—” Kaz rasps, once he’s regained Jesper’s full attention. Half-full. ‘Like he’s plundered Jesper’s wardrobe’ is still such a good look on him. “We are both hunted. Neither of us can afford to be caught outside on the streets of Ketterdam and let whoever saw us live. If we’re going to make Haskell’s house our temporary base of operations, we need to make his death as inconspicuous as possible. We cannot safely anticipate which of his visitors to eliminate and which to fool unless we know whether they, in turn, may be missed.”

“Well,” Jesper mutters. “Mitki might come by. If the neighbours don’t chase him off.”

Kaz raises a single, dirt-encrusted eyebrow.

“Mitki’s the newest lieutenant. Might have made it this—”

“Not Anika? I can understand why a flake like you didn’t rise in the Dregs ranks, but she—”

“Ambush. Dime Lions, five weeks after you disappeared.”

“Rotty?”

“Slit throat. Still no clue who did it.”

“Specht? Pim? Neeta? Big Bol?”

“Razorgulls, knife, last year. Bullet to the head, same day. Hellgate. Hellgate.”

“Muzzen? Ruk? Keeg?”

“Another ‘Gull stabbing, just before I left. Hellgate, again. Keeg just disappeared, though. Might still be alive somewhere over the True Sea, if he’s clever. Not that he was, he’s probably floating, poor sod.” Jesper shrugs. After a while, it just gets too much: the beginning of the Dregs’ end is seared into his brain, but there aren’t enough synapses for the tenth—or fiftieth—dead friend to hurt as much. “There’s a reason why I didn’t think twice about running when I lost those fifty thousand. Like I said, boss, it’s been a shitshow since you left. Haskell never wanted for new ones, since he got his kids fresh off the street, but he just stopped giving any shit whatsoever, and since you weren’t there to pick up the slack… well, I can see why he didn’t care, now.”

Jesper spares a bitter look for the mountain of kruge next to Haskell’s foot, the mountain he offered Kaz as soon as he saw him, long before Kaz even tried to hack off both his hands and feet with a dull meat cleaver. Long before Kaz had to settle for cutting down to the bone and then wrenching Haskell’s extremities from their sockets by sheer force of hatred, while Jesper puked into the kitchen sink. The mountain he’d never have amassed as the boss of a gang as shambolic as the last years of the Dregs.

The mountain that’s going to pay off Inej’s indenture tomorrow.

Haskell allowed her to rot there. It’s only fair he pays for her freedom with his life.

“Everyone we could use is gone. And you…” Kaz tips Jesper’s chin up with his cane. The world shimmies a little. “You, of all the old Dregs, survived.”

Jesper shrugs again. This is too much to confess to Kaz, of all cruel bastards, probably far too much, but—they’re sitting in the living room of Jesper’s former boss, the man who sold Kaz out to the Darkling and used the prize money to live in luxury, while letting his gang die on increasingly pointless ill-planned errands. The other end of the table is still flecked and puddled with slow-drying blood—not to mention the corpse, or corpse-pieces, laying there—but over here, they have a bottle of expensive whisky they found in a cabinet and they’re trading swigs from the bottle, all bitter and clean.

“I didn’t take it too well, when you and Inej just disappeared, and then my friends kept dying. Might have gone on a couple of benders. Might have lost some games. Might have lost some fights. Might have had some sexual encounters with people who turned out to be massive creeps. Consequently, I may not have been technically around to be asked to go on some of these errands, or perhaps I just didn’t notice because I was drunk.”

“Jesper.” Kaz doesn’t even sound surprised. Wow. Thanks for having faith in me, boss.

It’s not really that humiliating, though, now he’s said it out loud. He spent two years making bad decisions and occasionally braiding Inej’s hair. Kaz spent that time getting turned into a doll. Who can say what’s worse? He takes another deep gulp and grins. “You know me, boss. I need some external structure in life. I really need a commandeering asshole dragging me into his schemes to be my best self.”

“And yet, you outwitted the Darkling.”

“That wasn’t difficult, to be fair. Tell them I’m Grisha, search the Little Palace, shoot Kaz Brekker in the head, get executed…” Jesper trails off. When the silence grows teeth, he takes a pull of whisky that’s so desperate it makes him cough, but Kaz is still letting him stew.

They don’t really need to talk about it, though. No value in going over what happened in the Little Palace. No value in discussing anything. Everything is fine now. Yes, Jesper did want to kill Kaz. Yes, he’ll die for Kaz.

And they both know why.

Kaz steals the bottle. It’s incredible, actually, Jesper was just holding it—well, maybe he’s a little more drunk than he thought, but Kaz would probably like being complimented on his pickpocketing. “I didn’t even see you steal that bottle,” Jesper says.

“I’d be angry you’re drunk,” Kaz rasps. “But you’ve been completely useless at all stages of the current plan so far. And the previous one, by your planning—I always forget, in my amazement at what you accomplished, that you failed.”

He says that, but his cheeks are flushed pink with alcohol. His pupils are wide when he looks at Jesper. He raises the bottle to his lips and tips his head back, swallowing what should have easily been ten more swigs of whisky. Thieving bastard.

☼

When Jesper awakes on Haskell’s second softest chaise longue in the receiving room—neither of them was particularly eager to climb into Haskell’s bed, and, in Jesper’s case, not particularly still able to walk up the stairs either—his mouth is dry, his bladder full and the light is poking his brain even through closed curtains and eyelids. And Kaz—he searches the whole house after finishing his business, but yes, it’s true—Kaz is gone.

So are his cane and his current Barrel flash coat and the kefta, which means Kaz is probably safe. Well. As safe as the escaped Sun Summoner can be. Not kidnapped, at least. More alive than anyone stupid enough to cross Kaz’ path.

He’s taken Haskell’s kruge, and left a note.

In Kaz’ sharp hand, the note reads, “STAY.”

It’s underlined three times, and on the back side Kaz has written, “or you will die,” which to be fair is pretty ambiguous.

‘Die’ as in, ‘I mistrust your competence and assume you’ll get yourself killed if you move a finger?’ Or as in, ‘I’m warning you I won’t go out of my way to save you?’ Perhaps it’s a straightforward ‘Disobey and I am going to personally murder you and piss on your corpse?’ All are very real possibilities, knowing Kaz.

To really understand the message, Jesper needs to get into Kaz’ mood when he woke up—hungover, but how much? Enough he hates the entire world, or so much he hates Jesper more? Also, his current way of thinking. Jesper’s usefulness. A point in favour is the fact that Jesper saved him from a fate worse than death, but on the other hand, Jesper forgot to extract a deal from him and Kaz is so Kerch it hurts, which means he’s pared down solidarity and reciprocity and love into exchange, into deals, and all Jesper’s offering are the first three. They shared a bottle of whisky next to the corpse of their old boss, though, and in general Kaz looked like he was having fun more than once on their dirty, miserable long trek out of Ravka. Way more fun than he had in the majestic Little Palace. Also, Jesper’s incredibly likeable. He’s beautiful and funny and stupidly in love with Kaz without asking anything in return, so really it only makes sense that Kaz has finally succumbed to his charm.

(He dug his hand into Jesper’s hair, that night on the fallen tree and twice afterwards, but—maybe that was only to make Jesper squirm.)

Well, he enjoyed Jesper’s company while they fled from Ravka to Ketterdam, at least. That’s the crux of it.

So why would Kaz anticipate that Jesper might want to run anywhere? There’s a well-stocked kitchen here. A far more sensible assumption would be that Jesper might want to make some waffles or go on a morning jog. No, not that one. Enjoy a lavish breakfast. Have a bath, perhaps, after spending two weeks crawling through the Ravkan forest and the Shu countryside and stowed in the belly of a wine cargo ship and then countryside again, this time Kerch. Jesper’s feet hurt just thinking about it, and that Kaz managed to get here, even at the half-speed they settled on, speaks to—well, the same bull-headed masochism as always, but the fact he still refused to even consider stealing a cart or horse or approach any larger settlement before Ketterdam means he must be even more terrified of the Darkling than Jesper can imagine. He refused to leave any trace whatsoever. (And yet he’s back in Ketterdam, the one city in the world he was connected to before the Little Palace, because…?)

Ketterdam is the only city, village, collection of buildings and people they’ve been to for weeks, which means it’s the first chance Jesper has to gamble, but—even he knows not to stake anything on the possibility there’s someone left in the Barrel who doesn’t know about Jesper Fahey, he who owes Pekka Rollins fifty thousand kruge and just skipped town, kill immediately with extreme prejudice.

Well, Rollins is dead now—the only gang boss courageous or aggrieved or hungry enough to try and covertly resist the Darkling, go figure—but whoever’s head Lion now probably won’t even let Jesper try to spin an argument about how he really owes that money to ‘Pekka Rollins’ Dime Lions’, not any successor organizations. No such luck, and anyway, people stupid enough to bounce on their debts are fair game to any gang in the Barrel. They don’t cooperate on much, not even for mutual benefit, but murdering dishonest gamblers? That’s a team sport.

Jesper’s last recklessly suicidal plan worked out fantastic, so maybe he should find a card table. His luck’s turned. He could win millions.

Which Kaz definitely would anticipate, and warn him away from. Kaz is a buzzkill. Just because Jesper’s going to get murdered on sight in the Barrel…

Because Jesper’s gonna get murdered on sight in the Barrel.

If Kaz wants to rebuild his status in the Barrel, there’s no bigger liability than Jesper. And Kaz wants to, surely. He worked his way up inside the Dregs carefully and diligently, spent more time than anyone sane would inside a tiny attic office adding up numbers, and sucked up to an utter piece of shit like Haskell, just so he could one day become a Barrel boss. And now, to rise again, he has to cut off the dead weight.

Which means Jesper.

That’s why he left.

It’s not even a betrayal. They don’t have an agreement for life after reaching Ketterdam, let alone one that says Jesper can follow him forever and ever just like in the good old days. Inej—but Inej’s actually useful to a new Barrel boss, as soon as her indenture’s paid. Jesper’s the weak link here. Jesper’s screwed.

Which doesn’t mean he won’t go down fighting. He knows the way to the Menagerie—the quickest way, the scenic route, the paths least commonly trafficked by Pigeons and the ones usually avoided by staadwatch or gangsters. He knows Kaz well enough to guess which one he’s taken. If he hasn’t woken too late—and by the sun’s position, it’s still early in the morning—then he has a chance to pass Kaz off and… insult him? Beg? Cry? Sell his father’s soul for a position in the new Dregs? Maybe he’ll just have to wear a Komedie Brute mask for the rest of his life and it’ll be fine. He’ll figure it out later.

Jesper draws his shoulders up to his ears while he scurries through empty alleyways, the collar of his fancy pseudo-Barrel flash coat turned up. He’s almost glad that Kaz made him go hatless and shaved bald—thoroughly unstylish and un-Jesper enough he might survive the morning—but there are drawbacks to the disguise in the damp chill.

Also, the disguise isn’t good enough. After some minutes, Jesper notices that some clusters of metal stay at roughly the same distance to him. Eight clusters of—round, small, definitely mostly kruge with a few Ravkan coins thrown in. Thirteen guns. A rifle. Two of the coin clusters are fairly close together and move in unison. Jesper’s dealing with seven shadows, then.

That’s—a lot.

Jesper’s had a little more training being a Durast now, but what he could really use now is combat training. He hasn’t even been in a battle in over a month, unless you count handing Kaz knives while he carves up Per Haskell, and since Jesper had to puke right after, you probably shouldn’t. He’s fought rabbits. Jesper’s sure fought some rabbits in Ravka. Two deer, too.

He could probably escape his pursuers. It would take time, though, time Jesper doesn’t have when Kaz is leaving him behind without a word. He’ll just have to kill them quickly.

At least there’s one of his favourite surveillance detection routes nearby. One of the rare aboveground tunnels in Ketterdam, not used by Pigeons for obvious reasons of creepiness and also because it just leads to a big courtyard behind a factory: a courtyard that’s easy to escape, when you know the gate’s lock is broken. Kaz showed it to him, just weeks after Jesper got recruited, after the second time the ‘Gulls got the drop on him and beat him to a pulp. In the courtyard, he made Jesper shoot some sparrows and some pigeons to prove his worth. Not crows, though, and for a year Jesper believed that detail was just thrown in to test whether Jesper would obey nonsensical orders. It’s still a plausible explanation.

He’ll just have to ask Kaz, after he begs him for a role in the new Dregs. After he kills these seven pursuers.

If.

He catches the first man off-guard and blows his head off when he exits the tunnel, but after that, it’s a stand-off. Jesper, hiding behind a massive wood barrel for cover, against six men ducked into the mouth of the tunnel.

Jesper manages to pick off another man by firing into the tunnel and blindly redirecting the bullet into the first nook, but the second attempt at using that trick doesn’t hit anything, and neither does the third. He has eight bullets left now, and five enemies. Even Jesper can tell that’s bad odds.

Retreating across the courtyard, though—the first few meters are fine, there are enough wine barrels and he can just dash from one to another, slightly nudging bullets off their course so none hit him.

Those guys have far too many bullets left, though, by the time Jesper’s forty meters away from the gate. Forty meters without cover. His pursuers aren’t bad shots either—likely Dime Lions, because there’s no way a Liddy would ever get so close that Jesper has to redirect their bullet—and they’re cautious enough that only two of them are crouched behind that barrel next to the tunnel, now, while the rest are still hidden inside.

This might get a little tough—but if Jesper starts manipulating bullets more obviously, will that information travel to the Little Palace? They know the Sun Summoner escaped with a Fabrikator. Is he painting a target on Kaz’ back?

Is he—

Bloodcurdling screams and groans, and Jesper’s too far away to hear any thwacks but his senses have expanded and he knows that metal coating intimately. Knows that cane.

Kaz emerges from the tunnel opening, Inej behind him, and—

Boom.

The Dime Lion’s shot him.

Right in the chest, and Kaz stumbles, falls to his knees.

Keels over.

Jesper shoots wildly while he runs over, whirling the bullets around the barrel that the Dime Lions are hiding behind—two left, Kaz wouldn’t have let any of the ones in the tunnel escape—desperate to hit something or at least keep them distracted and scared long enough to get there, or for—Inej’s pulling Kaz back by his coat, and she’s still wearing a sheer Menagerie dress, she probably doesn’t have any knives to protect—nothing’s hit yet, nothing’s hit, and all Jesper’s bullets are in the air whizzing around but he’s not hitting anything and Kaz is down and Kaz—

Kaz pushes himself to his knees, and then he stands up.

He’s breathing hard, and in the ugly rose/amber/bloodstain trench there’s a hole above his heart, sooty and burnt, but he’s still alive, Kaz is alive, he’s—

“What are you?” a Dime Lion gasps. Jesper’s finally got a bead on her. He sinks three bullets into her head.

“I just killed…” The other one is less lucky, and Jesper only manages to hit his stomach before he runs out of airborne bullets. He’ll die, but it won’t be quick.

“I crawled out of the harbour before. I’ll do it again,” Kaz rasps, and before the Dime Lion manages more than “Dirty—” a wet squelch informs Jesper of his demise.

That’s all of them.

“Kaz, you—” Inej’s much quicker at Kaz’ side, but he moves away before she can touch him to check his injury. Moves quickly enough he’s probably not on death’s door. He is a good actor, though. She looks at Jesper, and he’s about to join her in begging Kaz to get some medical aid, at least, but then Kaz shrugs off the ruined trench coat.

“Those kefta aren’t entirely useless,” Kaz rasps, grinning like an amused fucking asshole who almost gave Jesper a heart attack.

And then, Inej wraps herself around Jesper.

“You’re alive! I was terrified,” she shouts against his chest, slapping his back and grabbing as if she can’t decide whether to kill Jesper or never let go. “I thought you got yourself killed! You just disappeared, no word, I thought—”

“I may have lost a game where the stake was fifty thousand kruge?”

“You—Jes—” Inej squeezes him harder. “I told you to stop. I’d rather have you, with me, than have you die trying to pay me off.”

“I almost won! But there was no chance I’d get out of it, without indenturing myself, and—it all worked out, didn’t it? You’re free! Which reminds me…” Jesper takes off his own coat—blue and green and purple wave patterns, very fancy, a bit on the small side for him—and lays it onto Inej’s shoulders. It suits her, too—it drowns her a little, sure, but the way the coat reaches down to her ankles looks regal, and anyway, Kaz is a good sewer. He’ll fix this. “Can’t have you catching a cold.”

Before she can reply—tell him again she wasn’t worth risking his life and freedom in every card game he could for two years, when she definitely is, she’s Inej, he’ll do anything for her—he runs away and searches the dead Dime Lions for a new coat for himself, all their money, the rifle, and picks up the used bullets too. Knowing Kaz, he’ll want them to leave this place soon, and Jesper can’t very well try to convince his boss he needs to keep his sharpshooter around when he has no bullets left.

Speaking of—Jesper saunters over to Kaz when he’s done. With his most careless grin, he says, “I want my goodbye kiss before you ditch me.”

“I left you a note,” Kaz rasps. “I should have remembered you can’t read.”

Which as good as counts as a promise that Kaz didn’t intend to leave him behind: that, and the adrenaline of an easy gunfight has Jesper grinning widely. This is the life he wanted. The life he yearned for during the last two miserable years. The Crows are back, baby. He asks, “What now, boss?”

“We leave. Before anyone comes to investigate those gunshots.”

“Novyi Zem?”

“No,” Kaz rasps, just as Inej says, “They’ll let us drown.”

“They what?”

“Move.” Kaz starts limping past the factory, and then doubles back one street over—in the general direction away from the sea. Jesper and Inej quickly flank him. “I went to the Fifth Harbour before I paid off Inej’s indenture. It’s near empty. Old man there said no boats go to Novyi Zem or Eames Chin right now, and no boats come back. Because nothing gets unloaded. Kerch ships can’t dock there. They all get stranded at sea.”

“People started running when Ravka cut us off from the continent,” Inej mutters. “Before the invasion. And now the Darkling’s gone, the Kerch Grisha are either running or dead.”

“Too many refugees, apparently. Something about culture and scroungers and economic migrants. Novya Zem’s closed its ports to Kerch.”

“But I’m Zemeni—”

“You’re just a person. Those borders don’t exist to help you. The harbour watch don’t exist for you, the government doesn’t exist for you—if there’s a choice between cementing their power and your life, every bureaucrat worth their salt will choose the former.”

Jesper wants to argue, but actually, he’d trust Kaz over Novyi Zem a million times. Kaz saved his life when Ketterdam and Kerch would have swallowed him whole. Novyi Zem isn’t any different. “So we’re stuck in Ketterdam, then, where I’ll get shot on sight and you’ll easily get tracked by the Darkling. I only remember one safehouse that’s still uncompromised, as of last month anyway, unless you think we should go back to Haskell’s, boss?”

“Inej,” Kaz rasps. “That shop over there. Buy us a cart. We’re going to Lij.”

“What’s in Lij, boss? Why Lij? Where is Lij, anyway?”

But Kaz doesn’t answer him. Even aboard the cart, directing their new donkey with a seemingly perfect grasp of the roads leading to a small southern Kerch town none of them have ever been to, he refuses to elaborate. He looks tense, though. Jesper reshapes his many new bullets while he walks alongside. If there’s a fight waiting for them in Lij, they’re going to win.

☼

Kaz paces the length of the room. Window, door, window, door—there’s not much space beside the marriage bed, and the air draft of his passing caresses Jesper’s shorn head.

He’s put back together now, dressed in his socks and his boots and his underpants and his trousers and his gloves, though his torso’s only covered by the open purple kefta. Despite the cane, he limps more heavily than before he trekked for weeks through the Ravkan forest. He’s not fully recovered yet, if he’ll ever be.

Jesper’s on the floor. He climbed off the bed—off Kaz, after he ruined Kaz’ stupid get proxy-raped by the proxy-Darkling again plan. He said what he said, and the silence that followed was all the answer he’ll get, and then he sat down on the floor. It’s as good a place to wait as any. Probably more hygienic than the bed, anyway. He watched Kaz dress, until he almost looked like the Barrel lieutenant they both wish he was still allowed to be, and now he’s watching Kaz Brekker Dirtyhands the Sun Summoner pace holes in the old dusty floor of an abandoned farmhouse an hour’s walk outside of the small Kerch town of Lij.

He’s not getting murdered, though. Not for what he almost did. Not for what he said. That’s as good as this was ever going to go.

“It was worse this time.” Kaz directs his rasp towards the floor. He doesn’t stop moving. “I froze. Why was it—it was you. I knew you were—you’d never—with you it should have been more tolerable. Not worse.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, boss.” Jesper still can’t decide whether he should be ashamed that he was too squeamish to go through with it. Kaz doesn’t seem as angry as he could be, that Jesper totally fucked up this whatever-it-was-supposed-to-be. Not the mocking disappointment he doles out at Jesper’s predictable failures—gambling, distractibility, lateness, no impulse control and so on—and not the seething hatred when Jesper does something he hasn’t anticipated.

“I turned it over and over in my mind. For a year. What I did wrong. How I could have turned this to my advantage. How to excise this weakness. I thought I’d found—but there’s nothing.”

Jesper would offer to brutally desecrate the Darkling’s corpse again, but it clearly doesn’t help. Kaz won’t let this go. Never mind that he was a teenage thief imprisoned in a palace. Never mind it was him against the whole entourage of the most powerful Grisha. The man who crowned himself Emperor.

Sometimes you’re just fucked. And there’s nothing you can do. Life isn’t fair.

“There is a way to beat him,” Kaz hisses. “And I will find it.”

“You did. Sort of.”

“What—”

Jesper grins a shark-grin. “You’re not in Ravka now, are you?”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why doesn’t it? No, boss, listen—he didn’t beat you alone, either, right? He had his Tailor making you into a doll. His Fabrikators locking your cage. His soldiers. Hell, Haskell selling you out—so really, it’s your victory that I found you.” Now that Jesper’s trying to explain his gut reaction, it just seems more and more logical. “Why can’t you have your own gang? You practically rescued yourself. You took a look at a boy who’d have gotten shot in a few weeks because he couldn’t pay is debts and he couldn’t stop fucking gambling—you had me dragged up to your office. You took that chance. You saved my life so I could save yours. That’s… planning ahead. Planning years ahead. Well done.”

Kaz finally, finally stops pacing. He sinks into the mattress just slightly to the right of Jesper, so he can sprawl out his legs without making contact. He looks at Jesper, but he’s silent, and his face isn’t giving anything away.

At first, that makes it feel like he’s actually listening. Actually considering what Jesper told him, and agreeing. Kaz is a quick thinker, though. He doesn’t need this long to realize that Jesper’s correct, which means he’s coming up with counterarguments—arguments why actually, he’s still weak or whatever and needs to force himself—and Jesper really, really can’t watch him do this to himself again. Why this, anyway? Why is this the weakness he fixated on?

“Why is that creep so obsessed with making you touch people, anyway?”

“Because it’s easy. Necessary. Even a child does it. Touch is what makes us human, and the Sun Summoner is human, whatever lies he tells himself,” Kaz recites. His eyes are bright. Wet.

“Bullshit. You terrorized the Barrel for years and it didn’t matter at all that you never touched anyone. It was just you. It didn’t even really sink in for me, that you don’t touch people, until I saw the way he dressed you up, how miserable you were.” That’s probably a good place to leave it, but Jesper’s livid. Jesper could mince and mangle fifty Darklings with the pure force of his loathing, and there’s not even a single one around here. That energy has to go somewhere. “You’re trying to tell me the Ravkan fucking palace couldn’t change protocol a little and adapt? If it never mattered in the Barrel, it never mattered at all. He just picked something. If you’d been allergic to shellfish, that’s the only food he would have served you, and he would have said you’re weak for your windpipe swelling up. He wasn’t able control you because touch made you weak. When you’re in control, it doesn’t matter. Because you fucking kill whoever touches you. You don’t bow to them. They bow to you.”

Kaz doesn’t reply. He doesn’t look away from Jesper, though. He just stares down at him, with his eyes still wide and still wet. He mutters, “You’ve turned quite opinionated in my absence, Jesper.”

“In your presence. I’m quoting your words back to you—sort of, it was about the cane, and I’ve forgotten half of it. But you were right. You were always right.” Jesper laughs. “See? Now you’re teaching yourself through time and space! Your masterplan is incredibly fucking elaborate!”

“My—I’m not falling for it.” Kaz is grinning, though. “If I agree now—by this time tomorrow you’ll have done something incredibly stupid and you’ll throw the whole Everything I do is your triumph because you saved me thing in my face. I’m not responsible for your awful jokes!”

Pretending to wipe tears from his eyes, Jesper wails, “My plan! My ingenious plan! Foiled by the dastardly Dirtyhands, oh no!”

Kaz laughs at him. Kaz laughs, and laughs, and Jesper joins him.

It takes a while before Kaz stops, gasping for breath. No-one in Ravka’s ever told a good joke, Jesper decides, because he’s made way funnier jokes before that Kaz didn’t even chuckle at, but gift horses and mouths and so on. Colour’s returned to Kaz’ face: his cheeks are blotchy and red, even after his breathing’s evened out. Kaz mumbles, “You know, that’s exactly how I imagined it.”

What? Oh. Jesper’s sprawled on the floor, leaning back on his elbows, his shirt pulled out of his trousers—his trousers, which are open, and he still hasn’t tucked away his dick. He forgot. There were more far important things to do, and now… well, he probably looks more debauched than Kaz in his purple kefta, with just his prick exposed to the chilly night-time Kerch air while he lounges on the ground. He ghosts a finger over it.

“Do you want me to—do you want to watch, boss?”

“I’d—” Kaz swallows. “Saints.”

Jesper turns a little, so Kaz can get a better view. He doesn’t undress, in case that’s an integral part of the fantasy, just gently trails his fingers down his still-limp dick—though it’s definitely waking up now—and looks up at Kaz.

Kaz doesn’t meet his eyes anymore, but that’s fine: more than fine, when he’s alternately looking at Jesper’s cock and at Jesper’s lips. Jesper darts out his tongue, and Kaz’ pupils blow even wider. Jesper licks down his palm and starts jerking off in earnest. “Hey, boss,” Jesper mutters, and when the head jerks up Jesper blows him a tiny kiss.

“What do you think about?” Kaz rasps.

“I just look at you. That’s enough. I like your face.” The tiny quirk of his lips, the way his eyes dart back down. “What are you thinking about, boss?”

“I didn’t expect you to enjoy this as much.”

“Seriously, boss, I know you’re not that stupid. How many times—”

“Not me,” Kaz mumbles. He gestures obscurely at the room. Jesper. The wall. The floor. The floor again. “This. It’s—not proper. Demeaning.”

“I wasn’t feeling demeaned until you started talking—”

“I was going to make you my right hand, once I took over the Dregs. Not my whore—”

“You were?” slips out, small and breathless, before Jesper remembers that this is for Kaz. This for him to enjoy. The warmth expanding in Jesper’s ribcage can wait. “There’s nothing bad about this. You like it. I like it. I don’t see anyone else in this room, and even if—a very clever guy once told me that you don’t bow to the world. You make the world bow to you.”

☼

It’s scratching that wakes Jesper. Scratching like the sharpening of a knife, quick, impatient, desperate—but it’s Kaz who’s on watch right now, Kaz who found this shallow cave they’re spending the night in, and Kaz wouldn’t let any danger come this close unnoticed. Unfought. Kaz wouldn’t just leave Jesper to his fate—would he?

He wouldn’t. At least not yet.

Kaz is sitting at the mouth of the cave. The moon drenches his matted dirty hair in its white glory, his handmade trousers, his naked wiry chest. His chest which he hasn’t bared for a second since Jesper gave him the kefta, even pulling off the Sun Summoner chemise that they tore into threads while still wrapped up in both of his coats: but now he’s half-naked, head bending down to look at those tines sticking out of his clavicle. Those antlers, those keratinized tumours, those bone cancers. Whatever those mutations are, he wants them gone.

In the right hand, he’s holding the knife that Jesper made from buttons so they could cut the blanket into trouser-shapes. In the left hand, he’s holding one of the protrusions growing from his body.

And then, he starts hacking again.

Viciously, helplessly, like a sick rabbit mutated into its own trap. He misses, once, and the knife sinks into his collarbone: but silently he tears it out again and cuts at the cancerous bone, and the knife’s sharp but the only dents that Jesper can see are tiny, glowing, lighting up the knife that’s flecked with his own blood.

☼

Jesper stirs the potato chunks. Thankfully, the old hearth still works, at least after he and Inej fed it with firewood they brought from the market, and so he’s cooking potatoes in butter and water. He mashes them up with some heavy wooden implement he found in a cabinet, once they’re soft enough—he washed it of course; he doesn’t want to eat moth shit—and then Inej passes him a wooden board of carrots in neat small identical pieces. Show-off. Jesper loves her so fucking much.

“Careful, don’t let it burn,” she says, twirling her knife, and Jesper—well, he meant to stir the pot of what’s apparently becoming stamppot. He did. He didn’t mean to think of how he’ll get Inej and Kaz out of Ravka—

And that’s when Kaz limps into the kitchen. He wasn’t still asleep when Inej and Jesper went into town to get some food—as if the Bastard of the Barrel ever sleeps in, even when he’s far from his titular Barrel—but he begged off the trip. He told them to say they’re working for Johannus Rietveld, if they’re asked, who’s apparently inherited this farm, but—they weren’t asked a thing, anyway, and who knows what Kaz did in the meantime. Who knows what weird cover identity he’s cooked up that they haven’t yet had to invoke. And whether it’s weirder than the one Jesper just created.

Jesper gives him a tender little smile. “Had a good morning?”

“No.”

“Because of last—”

But Kaz can read Jesper at least as well as he can read himself. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he rasps. “You’re the least terrifying person I’ve ever met.” Which probably means Yes, I’m rattled, but I won’t take it out on you. Too much.

“Thanks, darling.” And obeying Inej’s sharp elbow, he goes back to stirring the potato mash, and the slices of rookworst smoked sausage she’s dumped into another pan as well. “We decided Inej needs a proper homecooked meal, now she’s free, and we both haven’t eaten anything worth eating for ages, either.”

“You cook?”

“I grew up with my Da. It was either him or me. We traded off, if you want to know, and I’m pretty good apart from when it mysteriously turns into charcoal. And we didn’t find any Zemeni spices in the Lij market—this isn’t Ketterdam, and this old trader I talked to, she said it’s because maritime traffic to Novyi Zem is down to trickles at this point there’s a real dearth of spices, she couldn’t get them at any reasonable price—”

“Don’t burn the stamppot,” Inej orders.

“Anyway, we found a recipe tacked to the wall behind the oven, so that’s what I’m making now. Something super Kerch. Stamppot—you’ve ever eaten it?”

Kaz makes a sound that’s deeply indecipherable. Jesper can’t even tell whether it’s mournful or happy.

“Anyway, we’re almost done. Spinach now, please—Inej made me stick to the recipe, you know—and then the fried sausage and some salt and… you’ll stay with us for lunch, right, even if it isn’t royal Little Palace fare?”

“We ate unseasoned burnt rabbits in the forest,” Kaz replies curtly. He’s gotten over whatever strange emotion took hold of him, then.

“Yeowtch, they were awful. Why didn’t you remind me to take them off the fire. I know how to smuggle us into Novyi Zem,” Jesper says, carrying the deep pot over to their chosen clean bit of floor. Next to the windowsill, so Kaz can sit down with a little less discomfort—the house has been cleaned out apart from the marriage bed, really, and making Kaz go in there now… Making Inej go in there now, when it’s where last night he and Kaz had sex… And it’s not like they were loud, but who knows what Inej read into them pacing around each other for an hour. This is much less awkward. Besides, Jesper’s recently had some great experiences with floors.

Inej doesn’t stop playing with her knife, even after she balances her stamppot served on woodboard on her knees and digs in with her slightly bent spoon. She hasn’t set it down all morning, even carried it into town when they went looking for something to eat, and while she’s been supervising Jesper’s cooking—making sure he’s reading the recipe, keeping him on-track, bickering with him over unclear or illegible instructions—she’s been twirling it around her fingers. A truly remarkable feat, given that it’s the piece of shit knife that Jesper cobbled together from coat buttons, and he didn’t know what he was doing at all except that it should probably be sharp. Inej really needs to talk him through the finer points of balance if she wants him to overhaul the thing.

“They’re not letting in any more refugees from Kerch, you said,” Jesper starts setting up the explanation for his ingenious plan, while he passes over Kaz’ portion and another spoon he dug out from the bottom of a cabinet and small-scienced back into shape.

“The rich Kerch started running first, when the Darkling advanced. Anyone who’d ever had a Grisha indenture… They probably got in. They had the money. As for the rest… well, we’ve all heard of what happened in Fjerda, unless we’re Jesper and too busy drinking and playing Makker’s Wheel—”

“Hey! I was trying to pay off your indenture,” Jesper complains, while nibbling on his surprisingly decent if underspiced potato mash. “I’m Zemeni. They’ll let me in.”

Kaz still hasn’t touched his food. He hasn’t put it away either though, hand cradling the board instead of throwing it at Jesper. Maybe it’s because he’s too curious about the plan. Jesper should have waited, but he was too excited, and now Kaz is frowning as he replies, “So you keep saying. How does that help us? I assume you wouldn’t leave the two of us behind, after all that trouble you took.”

It feels good, to hear him say that. Almost good enough to forgive that Kaz doesn’t like his lunch. “That’s where my plan comes in. I’ve finally figured it out. If we’re married—”

“We can’t marry each other,” Kaz rasps. Before Jesper gets too sad about that, he continues, “In case you haven’t yet learned to count, we’re three people now.”

“I know. That’s why I’ve been thinking it over for so long. But divorce exists, you know so I was thinking that our story should be—and I’ll write to Da, but I thought you should probably agree first—I married one of you and then fell in love with the other but I still loved both, so I was trying to—”

Inej coughs. Laughs. Yeah, she’s definitely laughing at him, and then she says, “You’re going to tell your father about your marriage in a letter—your multiple marriages, because not only did you get married without inviting him, you already traded in your wife for a younger, prettier model. You lothario!”

“If you think that Kaz—actually, are you younger than Inej?”

Kaz, spoon in mouth, glares down at him.

“I’m trying to save our lives here. I’d appreciate some cooperation! And Da will forgive me, when he sees how happy I am with my new bonebreaking gangster wife and my old knife-twirling gangster wife who I had to divorce for petty bureaucratic reasons. Do you like it?”

Another spoonful of stamppot disappears into Kaz’ mouth. His eyes are closed while he chews, and then he looks away. His voice is hoarser than normal when he mumbles, “It tastes exactly the way I—it’s good.”

“Better than unseasoned rabbit charcoal. Anyway, it might throw the Darkling off our scent some more, if we disguise Kaz as a woman—and don’t be sexist. Women come in all shapes and sizes, no-one’s going to suspect a thing. Also we’re from Ketterdam. If any woman like Kaz can marry anywhere, it’s here. It’ll be a scandal, if they refuse to honour our marriage. Letting a few poors drown outside Zemeni borders, sure, but breaking the mutual recognition of administrative documents?”

Jesper is actually pretty proud of his reasoning here. That makes it even more annoying when Kaz rasps, “No-one will ever believe I’m your wife. I can’t even touch you.”

“No-one’s going to believe I love you? Are you sure?” Jesper flutters his eyes up at Kaz.

“He has a point, Jesper. You won’t be the first desperate refugee forging a marriage to leave.” Inej twirls her knife again. “You’ll need to act the part.”

“We’ll just tell them the truth.”

“Which is?”

“You don’t want to be touched, and if they have a follow-up question, they’d better direct it to the barrel of my gun. I’m not letting anybody non-consensually grope my beloved Kerch wife. Never again. Not over my dead body.”

“Won’t they think it’s weird if Kaz—sorry, your beautiful Kerch wife doesn’t let you touch him?”

“I don’t care. I told you. Let the world bow to us. I love my ingenious, vicious Kerch wife, completely independent of any physical contact we may or may not ever have. I respect my stubborn loyal deadpan Kerch wife far too much to cross those boundaries just for social custom. Also, my sweet murderous Kerch wife has a mean right hook.”

“Thankyou for the demonstration of your acting skills,” Kaz rasps drily, scratching his spoon on his serving board for the last flecks of stamppot. “We’re not going to Novyi Zem, though. There are more amplifiers than just the Stag he forced into me, and we’re going to find the rest. I’m going to tear apart every miserable molecule in the Darkling’s body, cell by fucking cell.”

“And you just let me keep talking?”

“It was entertaining.” Kaz licks his spoon, and then the board. Any second now, Jesper will tell him there’s more left in the pot. “Write your Da. We’ll keep your plan as a backup, in case everything goes horribly wrong. You’ll need a ring, though, to make it official,” and Kaz starts rooting through the kefta pockets.

Jesper can’t breathe. Is Kaz really…? He can’t breathe until he looks at Kaz’ stretched-out, gloved hand, and—

“How the fuck did you steal that one?! I was just wearing it!”

#jesper fahey #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kaz x jesper #dimtraces makes things #shadow & bone #shadow and bone

[jocia92]

… So much of an actor’s craft is figuring out the “I want” of their character, but that’s got to be a little different with Tom since he states that he literally cannot want anything. What challenge or opportunity did that pose for you?

I think he wants to improve. I think he wants to calibrate according to Alma’s needs, wants, and desires. I think he’s very ready to learn and to understand. That was the kind of primary objective: listen, learn, calibrate, improve. That’s almost the track of each scenario. He just gets a little better each time, and the process gets a little faster. But certainly, in the beginning, he’s just delivering this sort of 20 classic chat-up lines that he’s been uploaded with and getting it all wrong. It’s fun to watch the machine learn and chart that progress.

On a practical or philosophical level, how did you approach the process of humanizing a character that’s an algorithm, or did you at all?

It was very much about charting with Maria exactly when we want to see the machine, when we want to see the human. Even playing with that ratio was really interesting and fun. It’s not so much about watching him play the machine, but watching a character try to play the human. Certainly, in the beginning, in some of the not quite so successful human moments, shall we say, we deconstructed what we regarded as the conventional human behavior in that. We looked at a lot of screwball comedies, like Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart, Katharine Hepburn movies. [We were] taking a move or a gesture, breaking that down, and just doing two of the things. It just suddenly looks very odd and wrong, and you’re like, “Oh, this is what a human does in this moment!” But it’s just off. It was really as much about looking at the human.

You’ve mentioned things like The Philadelphia Story as shaping the film and its central relationship. Was that to ground it in reality or further ensconce it in the warped reality of cinema? Grant and Stewart are recognizable to us as people, but things like that mid-Atlantic lilt were entirely manufactured for the screen.

That was a very key point for Maria in referencing Cary Grant. The hair color that we chose for Tom was very much like Cary Grant’s hair color, being a shade darker than is possibly human. And the skin tone being slightly artificial for Tom. You’re right, Cary Grant is often very heightened and mannered sometimes, and it works in the situation in the style of the thing that he’s in. But we quite liked the idea that Tom has been uploaded with some outdated versions of what a romantic lead was supposed to behave like.

It’s striking just how thought-out things had to be down to how Tom responds to dead air space in a conversation. What was the process behind those small moments that can make or break the believability of a character?

It was very fun to play with, and probably quite frustrating for a lot of the human actors. Maren was giving a beautifully naturalistic performance, and the conventional responses that there should be from her scene partner weren’t there. We deliberately strip those away—sometimes without telling her, sometimes without needing to tell her. It’s just the way that Tom was, so it was about pushing those moments into a space that became a little uncomfortable: not jumping in on the lines where you might normally jump in, sometimes coming in hard, sometimes offering a delayed response, sometimes none at all. Playing with those, and watching how comfortable or uncomfortable that made them both, was really fun.

Did that frustration, built in by the process, bleed over for Maren into the character of Alma, do you think?

Maybe for Maren. Certainly, for me, it was frustrating in that I would have to remember not to respond in the way that I might normally and remove some of those things. [I had to] really break down exactly what Tom is thinking, what his programming is doing in that point, how he’s responding and calibrating, and whether we see that or not. Choosing moments to show the human, to show the machine. Along with Maria, that was one of the great joys of the role.

How did you settle on the physicality of the character? Was it at all helpful to have done something like Beauty and the Beast in a mo-cap suit to be hyper-aware of how your own movements translate to the screen?

Very much so. In fact, in pretty much every role I’ve done since Beauty and the Beast, I’ve incorporated not always a movement coach, but I’ve definitely looked at movement theory and physicality in a totally new way because of the challenges of that role. And, I have to say, dance plays a huge part in that. Whether it’s incorporated on the screen or if it’s something that just feels as if it helps the role, I often find that a dance studio is a very fruitful space to discover things about your character’s physicality. Learning the rumba for this role was incredibly helpful because it’s a very precise, technical, almost robotic dance in terms of the laser precision that’s needed to get it absolutely right. I had a fantastically exact teacher in Berlin who was teaching me the rumba the whole way through the shoot. We shot that [one scene] quite near the end of the shoot. Just to have those lessons, that kind of physicality, and that poise with me the whole way through the role was really useful.

How did the role being in a non-native tongue affect the characterization of Tom? Was it all easier to make him seem slightly unreal given that the words might not come quite as naturally as they would in English?

I think it was a deliberate choice on the part of Maria to look for a foreign actor who could speak German. She needed somebody who could both get their heads and their mouths around the very technical German that was required, which, even for a German is pretty complex, but also who had that sense of otherness. I’m sure they could have tailored the screenplay to any number of nationalities, but I was very happy they came to me and made him British. It definitely helped with, as I say, the fact that he’s listening, learning, focusing, trying to improve…that was literally all I was doing last summer, every day.

How do you lock onto the frequency of German comedy, which isn’t always something people associate with that country or people? How is it different than doing something like the more mannered British wit of Blithe Spirit or the broad studio comedy of Eurovision Song Contest?

It’s not a country known for it, but I think they should [be]. I find Germans very funny. They have a very interesting sense of humor. What’s particularly delightful is the way that they can tackle really kind of big, sometimes weighty, issues with a certain wit and lightness of touch, which is not common to all countries. Physical comedy, I think, is fairly universal. I think there’s something almost farcical about some of the physical stuff that we managed to get in this. It was really fun to make people laugh in a foreign language. It was surprisingly delightful. It felt very unifying, somehow, to be able to get a joke across in any language.

#ich bin dein mensch #i'm your man #dan stevens #slant magazine #interview #long post

[anthonycrowleymoved]

maggie anthonycrowley please dear god please tinhat about the beer this is so funny and you are the resident expert in beer so i very much would love your take

WILD that i apparently AM the resident (american) craft beer expert. alright, but don’t get mad at me about it. you asked. so here is my ‘more info on jackles’ brewery than you probably want’ info, all aggregated into one convenient post

before we get to my opinion on this whole thing, a few disclaimers: 1. i do not, nor have i ever, worked at a brewery, so the actual manufacturing process information is all either speculation based on what i do know or second hand information. 2. i have not tried fbbc’s beer. i would absolutely love to and do a full unbiased review (people in austin hmu), but craft beer in the us is EXTREMELY regional due to both how craft breweries operate (many don’t distribute at all, and those that do, unless they’re quite large, only distribute to a set amount of states), and because i live in mass and you can’t get it outside of texas, i’m stuck in a bit of a lurch. so anything i say about the actual beer will be based off of my impression of the description/facts and reviews i can find from various beer rating websites. but i do know about the general craft beer culture in the states, which is why i still feel comfortable talking about this.

let’s quickly go back to when people were theorizing about eyes in the sky, because that was one of the single most amusing nights of my life, and the main actually-valid argument is related to the theories surrounding this drop. so! let’s go over the extremely hilarious arguments people were touting first, particularly the ones not relevant here, i just think it’s fun to look back on them.

so my personal favorite is ‘well the beer’s orange.’ because. a lot of beer is orange. i’d say the main three colors beer is is either a shade of brown, a shade of yellow, or a shade of orange. you can find beers in other colors, but those are the ones just like, statistically, you’re gonna see a lot. most hazy ipas are vaguely orange. like, almost all of them. i am drinking one Literally right now and it’s also orange. neipas tend to be orange. i PROMISE it’s not that deep. this is all i have to say on the subject and also it’s not relevant to this drop, i just absolutely adore this tinhatting because it’s adorable how little you all know. i say this with love. next.

not related directly to either of the beer drops we’re discussing but: ‘there’s a beer there called helles, which sounds like hell’ y. yes there is. but i am asking you to like. okay. experiment. go into google right now and search ‘breweries near me’ and just. look at the beer listings from the top. i don’t know, let me be safe. ten breweries that show up. i guarantee at least one is going to have a helles. probably more than one. it’s an incredibly common style. not an incredibly TRENDY style, but it’s one of the more common lager styles, and people like them. again, i Promise him making one isn’t that deep. it’s not a fucking altbier or something. next.

now onto rehashed arguments, and i’m going to discuss the stupid one first. ‘the description says fruity’ this one is also being brought up with this drop and it never fails to make me lose it. fruity is an INCREDIBLY common way of describing beer. other common words include things like malty, dank, bready, etc. it’s going to depend on the style, but for ipas in particular, especially american style/east coast, are almost always described as tasting like fruit or tasting like a SPECIFIC fruit (west coast tends to be more dank tasting. think weed rather than an orange smoothie. this sounds mean, but i have literally drank west coast ipas that smell and taste like literal marijuana. so). and like, okay, MAYBE i’d be willing to be like ‘hm curious that he released two ipas, the frutiest style’ (this is a joke because ipas are not the frutiest style. very funny trust me) but what you have to understand about that is like, ipas are EVERYWHERE. they’re insanely trendy and have been for the better part of, i don’t know, five years? if anything, i’m surprised there’s not MORE of his beer that’s ipas. i know of places where that’s like, all they make. anyway. next.

AND FINALLY the actual argument i can maaaaybe get behind because i can’t immediately dispute it. the actual naming of the beer. ‘well what does the name MEAN then???’ the problem is, in both of these cases, i have NO idea. but, and i implied this earlier - i have no idea if he’s even naming the beer. i don’t actually think it’s standard from brewery to brewery, so unless jackles has specifically said he names all of them we can’t assume he does. like, think about it this way. large breweries like, for example, budweiser, a marketing department probably names them. getting to craft, it probably depends on how hands on the owner is. they MIGHT name all of them, it might be a joint effort, they may just sign off on whatever the brewmaster calls it (and, btw, jackles Absolutely is not making the beer. he might know the process and maybe help out, and he’s probably tasting them before they go to market, but i’m not super convinced he’s any more involved in the actual manufacturing process, as evidenced by the fact that someone else is head brewmaster. think like, producer vs writer. just something to think about in future). and like, i can’t shoot this argument down, necessarily, because he MIGHT be naming them and calling the products these names for a specific reason, but we don’t know unless they tell us. like, okay, comparison time again, there’s a popular beer from maine brewing called ‘lunch,’ and they say on the side of the bottle that it’s named after a shark that’s been spotted off the maine coast with a part of her fin bitten off, and that’s why they named the beer that. but like, i wouldn’t know that unless this place told me. there’s about a billion reasons why these beers may have had these names chosen for them, exacerbated by the fact that we don’t even know if jackles, or even daneel, had a large part in the naming process. (also, calling ipas with rainbow-y names isn’t even that uncommon. here’s an example of one i’ve actually had within the past like, two months. it actually kind of sounds similar to the beer drop fbbc had. i’m not saying the name ISN’T relevant but i mean, i’m just saying)

ANYWAY tldr of that is ‘as a beer snob i am unconvinced by almost all of your arguments but i’m really sorry about it because you people are fun’

also, because it’s my blog and i can talk about this, my actual impression of the brewery itself is this. it looks like a pretty standard brewery making pretty solid beer. i mean, based on reviews and such i doubt it’d be my favorite beer i’ve ever had, but i’m from an area where i’m spoiled for choice. i’d honestly love to try it, just to see if they’re riding off the fact that the owner’s famous or if the beer can actually stand on its own. hell, i saw a few beers on their website that i’d love to try. so like, if you see me ragging on it or seeming to rag on it in the future i’m doing it both from a place of love and from a place of i have no idea what it’s actually like. anyway

#spn #anyway this is the post. enjoy #nonny mouse #inquiries #shut up maggie #text

[fermented-writers-block]

Coven System Artifacts?

While combing through the new promo and recent discussions, these two items stuck out to me from how few people seemed to even notice them, and I’d like to rectify that:  

To start off, judging from the gold and dark brown gray aesthetics of the wall and door, it seems likely that this room is in the same place as this ominous throne room:

Aka most probably Belos’ throne room, which would logically mean that Willow, Luz, and Gus are fighting someone inside of Belos’ palace/castle/whatever this place is in, and with that established, I want to draw attention to the wider room that the trio are in: 

Like with the harp, there appears to be a bunch of pedestals set through the room with a fourth one just barely out of view to the very left of the frame as can be seen by the outline of the pillar of light over it, and one can make out the outline of something wooden on the right edge of the frame. However, one particularly interesting detail here is that the very hat Luz is holding has a Healing Coven symbol on it, which makes me highly suspicious about what this room is for and what is on the rest of the pedestals.

From the looks of things, each of these pedestals likely hold some kind of artifact representative of the major covens of the Boiling Isles, including the aforementioned Healing Coven as well as the Bard Coven with the harp. But though the hat only appears for a single frame, considering the probability of this being a private room in Belos’ estate, I can’t help but feel like this room is a LOT more closely tied to the Coven system than just some kind of trophy room simply filled with artifacts to represent Bellows’ achievements or goals. Instead, I’d like to propose that this room might actually be for directly manipulating the restrictions on the different covens for what kinds of magic one is and isn’t allowed to use.

Here, it could be that the artifacts don’t just represent the different types of magic, but are HIGHLY concentrated examples of each type, and the pedestals all connect to the seals/brands each coven uses to seal a person’s magic. Together, the artifacts like the harp and the hat could be templates from which the pedestals and light determine whether a person is trying to cast something out of their respective coven, kind of like the turret manufacturing line in Portal 2 where a normal turret is scanned and used to judge which turrets are acceptable and which should be trashed.

Of course, it is unknown at this point what would happen if one was to remove one of these ‘template’ artifacts like Luz apparently did with the Healing Coven Artifact, but given how Belos was first introduced by name in Covention while Bump proclaimed about how the Emperor’s Coven is ushering in “a new age of controlled magic,” I have the feeling that line will turn out to be much, much more literal than even Bump himself realizes. 

Namely, that when removing one such artifact from its pedestal, you also are able to remove the ability of anyone under the related coven to cast that same type of magic, in short meaning that they wouldn’t be able to cast ANY of the nine main kinds of magic instead of just a single one.

As for what purpose this could possibly serve, given that the Healing Coven Artifact apparently takes the form of a hat and the Bard Coven Artifact a small harp or lyre, I have the feeling that the other Coven Artifacts will also take the shape of easily portable tools and wearable clothing. And to add to that, if each of these artifacts are highly concentrated examples of a specific branch of magic, then perhaps putting on the Healing Coven hat grants one extraordinary control over healing magic, and playing the harp grants control over bard magic. 

Specifically, magic siphoned and stolen from all the witches and wizards under the Coven System - except for the Emperor’s Coven, of course. I mean, who better to make sure that magic is being controlled ‘properly’ than the one in control of everything, aka Emperor Belos himself? 

With this, he and his elites would have all nine types of magic under their complete and direct control, making sure that nobody else would be able to muck about with his system and truly bringing in a new age of “controlled magic.”

I had been planning to save this for a later power, but to summarize, I have theorized for a long while now with @sepublic that Luz’s unorthodox method of casting magic will eventually spark a major rebellion against Belos’ reign and control. But for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out for the life of me exactly what would be the biggest factor in convincing people to band together - that is, until now.

After all, for as much good will Luz may have garnered with the people she freed from the Conformatorium, I find it hard that they would be able to drum up such a massive amount of support with such few members, and we haven’t particularly seen a whole lot of non-witches who have shown signs of wanting to cast magic. Furthermore, with how widespread and normalized the Coven System is on the Boiling Isles to the point where the Emperor’s Coven seem to be viewed as pseudo-celebrities, the majority of the population would likely require a considerable push to get them to even consider actually actively challenging it.

As such, with this new detail from the promo, I would like to propose that near the end of the season, Luz, Willow, and Gus will somehow end up discovering Belos’ secret room and the connection these artifacts have to the covens, and the finale will be about the trio attempting to escape Belos’ wrath and tell people what’s really going on. And with that comes the PERFECT incentive for both witches and non-witches to unite under Luz’s guidance and stand up against Emperor Bellows’ reign; aka to learn how to cast magic again if and when he strips them of their ability to even cast the last kind of magic he had allowed them to use before.

Or in other words, forming a group that can practice all kinds of magic without restrictions. A group where you aren’t expected to suppress your own free will and conform without question. A group that can and will make a stand against Belos and his Emperor’s Coven.

Aka one that would have a LOT of reasons for them to listen to and learn from both Luz Noceda and Eda Clawthorne under a single banner, a group where Luz can “teach them some of that Bad Girl Coven magic:”

Just picture it; Belos, the ruler of the Boiling Isles, trying to fight against Luz, the biggest disruptor to his carefully crafted system. The long-established Emperor’s Coven squaring off with the newly formed but numerous “Bad Girl Coven,” having banded together under Luz not out of some grand destiny, but because she figured out how to do what she does on her own merit. And at the center of it all stands Eda and Lilith, both powerful witches with an entire group willing and ready to hear what they have to say in pursuit of what they believe is right, both with a young protégé trying to determine their place and worth in the world. 

Both sisters separated by completely opposing opinions and sides, yet all but the exact same in position, influence, and parallels to the other.

Now wouldn’t that just be poetic as heck?

#the owl house #owl house #the owl house theory #owl house theory #eda clawthorne #luz noceda #bad girl coven #theory #speculation #emperor belos

[garrettjpvf143]

15 Most Underrated Skills That'll Make You a Rockstar in the replica bags Industry

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The underside line is, if you’re hunting for a fashionable and reasonably priced bag that’ll enable you to look place-together, a replica bag is a terrific way to go.​ From my expertise, I'm able to say that it’s absolutely definitely worth the cash you’ll be paying out.​

I've also utilized many different other replicas - which includes a Kate Spade impressed duplicate.​ I believed this was a particularly wonderful invest in since it gave me the texture of the designer bag without having breaking the bank.​ I obtained plenty of compliments for it, and it felt like it absolutely was just the ideal sizing.​ It also had more than enough depth to make it glimpse extremely exceptional.​

I have also attempted a Gucci influenced replica that was comprised of large-top quality products and a more intricate structure.​ It was Definitely gorgeous, on the other hand, the detail was a tiny bit a lot of and I felt like it was too fancy for day to day don.​ I would generally put it aside for Exclusive events or nights out.​

Another fantastic replica I attempted out was a Michael Kors inspired bag.​ This was one thing I attained for Every time I necessary to look exquisite although not overly dressy.​ It absolutely was perfect for Exclusive events, still nonetheless everyday with its minimalistic design and style.​ I did locate the straps a tad short for me, but practically nothing much too bothersome.​

My encounter with replica bags has long been optimistic Over-all.​ I obtain them to generally be a great way to get designer seems to be without the need of sacrificing a ton of cash.​ I love that I get to precise my personalized design and style via the selection of replica luggage I personal.​ Every so often I like to replace them for a little something unique, as they typically previous me about six months before breaking down.​

On the other hand, I do realize that not Everybody feels exactly the same way about replica bags.​ Some individuals think that they’re not well worth the money, Which designer bags are outstanding with regards to high-quality and elegance.​ I'm able to surely respect that feeling.​ What I do know is that, for me, replica luggage have already been an incredible way to investigate a variety of models devoid of breaking replica handbags the bank.​

The moral from the story is the fact It truly is merely not worth it getting bogus baggage.​ You will find a lot of dangers concerned and the standard is frequently not worth it.​ The original quality designer bags have colonial insurance plan, warranties, great design in addition to greater content.​ Shelling out a little excess will warranty you the quality and pleasure of proudly owning a real bag.​ Apart from, It is really illegal, and in opposition to the moral code.​ Never be fooled into buying a phony!

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