#kerfuffle does an art

[marronbunnie]

( \ (> ,.., <) / )

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #kerfuffle does an art #sorry i didn’t post for a month baldur’s gate took over my life #To a minor degree #lots of brainrot to come. sorry #cw animal death

[missmako-chan]

Meanwhile, in the Soul Calibur dimension…

(credit to @wondergamer101 for the description also here's a blank version)

#cpuk #cpu kerfuffle #dantoinette cpuk #cpuk dantoinette #mako draws #i like drawing in other art styles but at the same time COD how does viva do the hair shading so good??

[secretmellowblog]

The thing is, it’s actually AI people and not artists who really care more about copyright. Artists aren’t nearly as obsessed with ownership as AI users are.

Most people I’ve noticed getting popular with AI art use AI to generate pretty generic images based on familiar concepts/characters in the style of popular artists. This is because AI does better with things it has a lot of images in its dataset to draw from. There are people who do weirder stuff, but this stuff almost never gets popular except as a joke or meme, because it never produces anything that looks like a shiny art station portfolio piece.

But that leads to the question of: why generate this image with Midjourney when it’s such a familiar generic concept that you could find a very similar image with a quick google search? It wouldn’t be exactly what you’re looking for, but Midjourney is also not going to give you exactly what you’re looking for either. If you just want nice imagery and don’t care who owns the art, why not just search the internet for art that definitely already exists?

If you just want “cyberpunk city trending on artstation”, why not go to artstation and look at different people’s concept art for cyberpunk cities? If you want “pretty anime cat girl with pink hair,” why not just search for that? If you want “owl in the style of Piper Thibodeau,” why not look through their owl art? If you want “art of Walter white in a cartoony style,” why not just look at all the millions of pieces of fanart that do exactly that?

There have even been some kerfuffles where the AI takes too influence much from one image that shows up a lot, and accidentally creates an almost-exact copy of a piece of art that already exists. The person who inserted the prompt in the machine, of course, doesn’t notice or care. Even though the “art” they “created” had already existed, and they essentially just did a roundabout internet search to find it.

So the question is like… “why are so many people machine-generating things that already exist?”

And the answer is because people don’t care about finding good imagery, really— they want imagery that is “theirs” and that they “own” in some nebulous way. You can easily find a generic cyberpunk city on artstation, but it’s not your generic cyberpunk city. You can easily find generic paintings of cute anime cat girls anywhere, but they’re not “yours.” You can find cute owls or cartoony breaking bad fanart anywhere but they’re not “yours.” The appeal of AI is not that it can create something new, because it’s bad at creating new things outside its dataset. The appeal is that it can create things that feel like they are “yours.”

The point of AI is not to generate imagery. It’s to file the serial numbers off imagery that already exists.

#ai art #tossing another coin in the ai Art swear jar and fleeing #I am done for today haha #graduation feelings ig

[gsirvitor]

I know you dislike SFO for a lot of reasons, but I wonder if you saw his recent video about the whole Sargon-Lindsey-Pluckrose kerfuffle and the critiques of liberalism. Or for that matter, Carl's 5 critiques of liberalism in the first place.

If you have, I wanted to know how you would respond to the critiques and ideas put forth on that. (I can at least link Carl's tweets telling those 5 critiques).

Also, while on the topic of liberalism, I remember your post where you defined yourself as 'liberal' and separated it from 'classical liberal', 'social liberal', 'libertarian', etc. I wanted to know how you drew those boundaries within the groups/what sources you were using to define the groups as you did. Mainly because I need to read some more theory over all this stuff as well as separate the 'theory', the 'practical' and the 'real' aspects of each of those; but also because I'm getting damn pissed at just how much those phrases are being misused; moreso with people blending them up with misused versions of capitalism, communism, socialism, etc.

Nope, I actively tune out of anything involving Dev, even if he appears in a stream of someone I like, I turn it off, he's a very loathsome individual, and I refuse to engage with his work.

No I haven't seen Carl's tweets on the subject, but I have read the Lotus Eaters Critique of Liberalism, and what may shock you is I agree with it, and disagree with it.

Liberalism is an ideology that will forever be vulnerable to outside influences, false assumptions, and exploitable contradictions, this however isn't much of a critique, every ideological framework has these failings, this is because no one can create a perfect ideology, and to strive for one is foolhardy.

Let's go over their points.

1. Pre-Social Man in the State of Nature

This is something I hear quite often by critics of Liberalism, that the foundations of the framework are flawed, and that is because they attribute the foundation of Liberalism to figures like Grotius, Hobbes, Locke, Montesquieu and Rousseau.

I for one lay the foundations of Liberalism further back, as I cite individuals such as Thomas Aquinas, Aristotle and so on, while yes, the modern Liberal does draw much from the flawed political musings of the aforementioned enlightenment thinkers, I for one do not.

However, I agree with the critique of the theory that mankind was dispersed in the wilderness, living off the land, fighting with wild animals, and only occasionally encountering other humans.

We are a highly social species, we have never existed outside of the self imposed societies we've created, even prior to being the human race, we were always in tribal bands of homo erectus and so on.

As they say, philosophers such as Grotius and Hobbes took a more realistic view of what a man’s life would be like in a state of nature; they came to the conclusion that man would be brutish, solitary, poor, nasty, and short lived.

Which is also true of ancient man, their lives were brutal, they were brutish as compared to modern man, they were poor, lived in squalor and were relatively short lived.

However, they were not solitary, they were very social, created art, wonders, religions and music, they were not poor in anything other than the material.

These two philosophers posit that early man was engaged in an war of all against all, until he, as they said "divests himself of liberty” by entering into a society and thereby creating the “state of peace” that the social contract provides.

Now you can see the foundations of Anarchism here, however, not of Liberalism, for the Liberty of a man is not hindered by the social contract, nor is it constrained by being with others, I agree that thus argument is not Liberal, and therefore reject the framing these philosophers laid forth.

Now, they continue onto Locke and Montesquieu.

Locke had taken an enlightened view, he reasoned that while there were brutes, there were others that lived by the “law of reason.”

By which Locke means that men would not harm one another or their possessions.

The purpose of man entering into society was thus to prevent the brutish man from harming the possessions, or lives, of those living by the law of reason.

Which is true, there would have been both types of people in the ancient past, more brutish tribes and more sophisticated ones, the issue comes from the fact Locke thought the Brutes would lack a society.

Now, Montesquieu denied that man would have had property or possessions in a state of nature, and stated that Hobbes made the mistake of assuming that modern man had been transported back in time, and had things like property concerns.

He noted that pre-social man would probably be a cringing and fearful beast, who would flee at the first rustle of leaves. 

To deny that ancient man would have a notion of property and concerns over keeping it ignores our fundamental natures as apes, we are very territorial, our closest living relatives kill over property and territory.

Another issue is the framing that there was ever a pre-social man, this is a falsehood, but not one I fault the men of the time for holding, for they had a far weaker grasp of Man's history than we do in the present.

Rousseau agreed with Montesquieu, however he was an idealist.

Rousseau believed that, in a state of nature, the weak and sick would die swiftly, leaving mankind to be uniformly strong, healthy and active.

He would wander the woods, fighting animals and sleeping in the open, gathering his food from the wilderness as he pleased, as he believed nature provided for all his wants, and as such he would not trouble his fellow man if he happened to cross paths in his travels, and men and women would meet occasionally to mate.

I can go on about how he fantasized about a perfect pre social man, but we may be here forever, so I'll just point out that yes, I disagree with Rousseau.

Nature never provided everything we needed, it never held our hand as a species, we had to take everything we needed from it, however you can see the foundations of Socialism and Anarcho Primitivism here.

And oh boy, do sociology professors love Rousseau's view of pre social man.

And yes, I agree, the thought experiments by these philosophers were wrong, flawed and are easily disputed, however I disagree that they are the first assumption of Liberalism.

Now, I know that Carl assumes Natural Rights are an extension of the State of Nature thought experiment, however he is wrong, Natural rights stretch back farther than the above thought experiments, as I've explained in other threads, they can be attributed to Aristotle, the Bible, Thomas Aquinas and so on.

2. Everyone is Equal

Now the author makes the assumption that equality under the auspices of Liberalism is derived from the assumption that there was a pre-social man, which I disagree with.

I however do agree with them when they explain that European life was hierarchical, and was underpinned by a religious order that assumed that the world had been organised the way it was by God, and it was just and right that it should be as it was.

The foundation of Liberalism can be found in Christianity, which is part of the foundation of all western philosophy, the issue comes when people separate Liberalism from Christianity, to make it a purely rational framework, divorced from the morals and ethics that built it, this is the issue with many modern thinkers who call themselves Liberal.

Now, the Lotus Eaters go on, they claim the liberal concept of inequality is concerned not with material or physical inequality, but social inequality.

Which is true, Liberalism only cares for the social, not the material, however, the aforementioned thinkers posited that inequality of rank was a consequence of society, and believed pre-social man would have suffered from no kind of unequal treatment by his fellow man.

They believed that without the ranks of king, nobleman, or commoner, there was no justification to treat one man differently to another.

Which, again, you can see a hint of proto Anarchism there, and the foundations of Anti-Monarchism and the USA.

Physical inequality is something that is accepted by early thinkers, however they failed to think that a physically superior man could take an unfair share of the bounty of nature and use his superiority to deprive his fellow man.

There has never been a time in which man was socially equal, as these thinkers assert, this doesn't disprove Liberalism, it disproves their thought experiments.

Christianity also believes that man is equal before the eyes of the Lord, material does not matter, social does not matter, this is the same as Liberalism, man is equal regardless of social standing or material wealth, at least man ought to be, but we are not God and therefore cannot make everyone equal, everyone makes their own decisions in life, and ought to be free to do so.

To try to force equality would be to throw ourselves in with the likes of Socialists and Tyrants that wished to order society from the top down, as such the view that everyone is equal is not a statement of what is, but what it ought to be.

“All men are equal in nature, and also in original sin. It is in the merits and demerits of their actions that they differ.” — Thomas Aquinas.

This is the equal in nature Liberalism cites, not the later thought experiments, but the notion that man is equal before God, or nature.

3. The Universal Man

As try claim in their article, early thinkers recognized that what differentiates one ethnicity from another originates from their social customs and institutions.

That without the educational institutions, scientific development, and accumulation of traditions, among many other factors, the western man would be difficult to differentiate from any other.

Which is true, it only becomes false when you apply it to all of mankind, and try to reduce people down to their Platonic ideal form, or Universal man.

While yes, you can take a child and raise them in a different society and they will become like that society, you cannot do the same with a grown man, he will always be a product of the environment in which he was raised, regardless of where you place him.

This Universal man is how governments view migrants today, they believe by some magic transitive properties in the magic soil, they will become like the natives, because they view all men as interchangeable commodities.

Now, while I agree this is wrong, it disagree this is what Liberalism means by Universal man, Liberalism derives its Universal man not from Plato, but Da Vinci.

Da Vinci derived this concept from the Roman universalis genius, and created the Vitruvian man, the ideal Renaissance man, though whether you call it the Universal Man, a Renaissance Man, or the polymath, the characteristics are the same.

The ideal was not one broken down to their basic form, but one defined by their excellence, they ought to be well-rounded and gifted in various areas of knowledge, such as art, science, mathematics, and philosophy. 

The Universal man ought to strive to develop themselves physically as well as socially. They ought to succeed in athletics, feats of physical strength, social events, and accomplishments in the arts.

The Universal man ought to be a writer and artist by trade.

They ought to be familiar with the works of classical philosophers such as Aristotle, ought to be formally educated, but could also be self-taught. They ought to speak and read multiple languages, most notably Latin and Greek to engage with the classics.

Most importantly, they ought to have an unquenchable thirst for learning, knowledge and the truth.

The Universal man thus is not our natural state, but an ideal that we ought to strive for.

Leonardo da Vinci was the archetypal Universal man, and the prime example of what Liberals ought to strive to be like.

So yes, I disagree that the Universal man of Liberalism is derived from Plato's world of forms, as the Lotus Eaters assert.

4. The Blank Slate

They continue, and now lambast an assumption that follows from the previous, that humans are essentially blank slates, upon which society imposes culture and without which, man would have no pre-programming at all.

Therefore, our proclivities and habits are all a consequence of social constructs, instead of having any roots in our biological nature.

And as we can see, this is the foundation of modern thought, that society is what dictates who and what we are, and without it we can be as we wish, which is not true.

Knowledge is founded on experience, and therefore our ideas spring from our experience and reflection upon said experience, this is not wrong, though knowledge is also passed from one person to the next, and can be ingrained in us through genetic memory.

This is where instincts come from, as the Lotus Easters describe, this is why babies come with knowledge, babies are social, though they may appear to be blank slates to adults, they have some personal agency.

Now the issue people take with the concept of a blank slate, is that they take it to the extreme, they view it to mean people are born as unprogrammed balls of flesh waiting for external input, Liberalism does not hold this view, the blank slate notion is that regardless of where a child originates they can be brought up in the dominant culture, they do not possess the views and expectations placed upon them by society until engrossed in said society.

For instance, a African child raised in the Arctic circle with Eskimo tribes from birth will be Eskimo in culture, beliefs, views and way of life, even if they are not genetically the same.

Now, onto the next issue, the idea that the concept of the blank slate contradicts the liberal doctrine of the innate goodness of man.

If a man is removed from his place in time, space, and community, he cannot, as Rousseau observed, be considered to be good or evil because he will have no concept of morality.

Morality is the concern for how we treat our fellow man, if men existed in a pre-social environment, there would be no demand for morality to develop.

The liberal theorist would then have to explain why a non-moral species decided to construct morality, when it was not necessary for its existence in the first place.

Morality is not just the concern of how we treat our fellow man, it is also how we define good and bad, right and wrong.

Man in a pre social environment would still have a concept of morality as the pre social man can determine what would be good or bad for themselves and extrapolate if this would hold the same for another.

Then, as these like-minded individuals began to meet in this pre-social world, they would discuss this and develop it further, and so on.

Though, again, harping on these thought experiments does not help to prove the failings of Liberalism, just that the critic failed to explain to themselves how a non-moral species could decide to construct morality.

5. Equality of Opportunity

Do I really have to keep going with this?

Yes, not everyone is born equal, not everyone has the same shit, or the same circumstances, Equality of Opportunity is an ideal, a way society ought to be.

It does not argue that men be made equal, nor that there be equal outcomes as the article claims, it is simply an ideal which we as a society should strive for, that everyone be afforded an opportunity to succeed, not that they be mandated the opportunity.

It is not a Socialist ideal as the article claims, Socialism does not afford equal opportunities, it mandates who will be granted said opportunities and who will succeed, this is an issue with modern day Universities, where they have diversity quotas, and unequal practices made to make everything superficially equal, such as with affirmative action.

Now, I agree, the term can be changed to equality of process, however I disagree with their preamble that equates the Liberal ideal with communism.

The author makes the mistake of arguing from the perspective of the Communist, I do not care what Communists think or argue, and neither should anyone.

Ah, just noticed, the Author is Carl.

Anyway, now back to your ask.

How did I draw the boundaries? Well, I read the histories of the select philosophies, read their ideals, views, what ought to be, what they want, what they believe, and took a knife and simply cut a line.

It's hard to explain, and that's the best I can do.

Oh yes, I'm getting damned pissed about how the terminology is misused as well, for instance, Carl used to be on the same train as me, he believed that the terms should be separate, that each has its own positives and negatives, and then he started a business and decided it was actually more profitable to label himself as a Conservative.

Though, Carl never drew a distinction between the philosophies of Classical Liberalism and Liberalism, like I do, he believed they were one and the same, and I simply disagree.

Carl is a Liberal still, he's just huffed Libertarian farts too often to realize it, and has dug an ideological trench with his disagreement with the aforementioned philosophers, whom I for one do not pay much attention to.

[wh0lemilk0vich]

you said you wanted angst and i’m here to deliver. in my head, stevie is relatively confident in herself but struggles with changes, whether it’s day to day things like a doctor’s appointment being canceled or bigger changes like what’s been happening to her body since she started estrogen and dating eddie (mostly dating eddie). every morning, she has at least one full glass of water before her coffee, goes for a short run around the neighborhood, takes a piping hot shower (it helps with her chronic pain), and gets dressed in the outfit she picked the night before for her shift at the diner. one morning, her alarm doesn’t go off and she wakes up on her own 10 minutes late. this isn’t a big deal until she realizes they’re out of filtered water, so unless she wants to run to the store or drink suspicious tap water, she has to just skip to her coffee. when she goes to take her usual run, she discovered that they’re doing roadwork on the path she usually runs so she just does a short loop before arriving home. when she finally undresses and steps into the shower, looking forward to the heat on her body, it comes out ice cold. her sour mood immediately turns on her boyfriend, knowing that his affinity for 30 minute showers probably wiped out all the hot water while she was busy scrambling to find some semblance of routine. after scrubbing her body just enough to call it acceptable, she marches to their shared room and starts tearing into eddie a bit about the water. he matches her energy, and the two quarrel about the things like stevie picking up extra shifts that disrupt their days off together and eddie leaving his socks around. when eddie makes a jab about her being spoiled, stevie (still in just a towel mind you) spits in his face and smiles because spoiled girls get to be brats. eddie grabs her hands and pins her against the wall, causing the towel to fall as he begins biting her neck harshly and squeezing her chunky hips. he pulls her to the bed and onto his lap, spanking her and watching the fat of her ass and thighs ripple while she whimpers and eggs him on. she ends up cumming from just the spanking and eddie fucks her supple tits, cumming all over her face and tongue. as they calm down and hold each other, they’re able to have an honest conversation about their stresses and brainstorm some solutions (because they’ve done this song and dance with argument as foreplay before). when the two finally notice the time and realize they need to get to work, stevie’s outfit for today was crumpled on the floor from the sex kerfuffle, but the funny thing is it didn’t even bother her, especially not after noticing the huge cumstain on the inside collar. rockstar!eddie thots to come later this week (ft dressing room sex, grinding a guitar on stage, and tearing of leather pants as performance art but also because it’s sexy).

-🫑

As an adhd-er with a strong need for consistency I can 1000000% relate to many little changes leading to disregulation, overstimulation, and meltdown. I would be the absolute worst brat if all of that happened to me.

I love this so much

"Really Eddie!?"

"What? Wanna clue me in, princess?"

"You didn't leave me any hot water! Hot water hog."

"I'd be real careful about which words your using, Stevie. Glass houses and all that. How do you think I feel when I get the shower after you?"

"But at least I'm not in there for the whole fucking morning. I mean Jesus, Edds, I don't ask for much. All I fucking wanted after this stupid fucking morning was for my stupid Goddamn shower to be hot!"

Eddie grabbing hold of her and trying to calm her down.

"Baby, calm down. You're being a raging fucking cunt acting a little hysterical right now."

Stevie hears the former even if Eddie said the latter and spits in his face like you said, and that when Eddie goes furiously calm and needs to do some brat taming.

Pressing her against the wall, tugging her head back and growling hot and severe in her ear.

"Poor little rich girl. Was the water temperature not to her majesty's liking? The water pressure? What's it going to be next, thread count not high enough on the sheets? Sorry they're not Egyptian cotton, your highness. God, you're so fucking spoiled."

Tugging her towel off and she's already half hard. He bends her over his lap, his own hardness pressing through his boxers against her soft belly. He starts spanking her.

"It's my fault really *smack* I love to spoil my baby girl *smack* and fuck if it isn't starting to show, Stevie. I mean look at this ass, it's- it's fucking obscene, Stevie *smack*. Don't think I don't see you through the order window, flirting with those letter jacket wearing neanderthal fucks. I can see them too, practically breaking their necks to check out this fat *smack* fucking *smack* ass *smack*. They don't know that it's daddy keeping you well fed, happy, curvy. So Daddy's going to need you to dial back the bitch, ok, baby girl. You understand?"

And Stevie, who's sniveling and hard and has already cum her body feels like jelly nods.

And Eddie's just like

"See, now you've gotten me all worked up, this is what you do to me baby. I'm gonna need your help."

And he spreads his legs and tugs down his boxers, hooking them under his balls, and his big donkey dick. And Stevie moves between his legs, sitting back on her knees, ass mounding behind her, she can feel Eddie digging his calves and knees into her plump, plush softness 🥵.

She sucks him off, using his hands to make up for the shortfall of her mouth. She loves sucking Eddie off because he's so vocal. He moans, groans, grunts like a pornstar, panting little "oh fuck"s and hisses tumbling past his lips. Eventually, he does take over, grabbing a fistful of her hair, thrusting into her mouth, her throat, face fucking her but still trying to be gentle. Then, yes then when he's spit slick and desperate for a last few strokes, he has Stevie press her tits around him and chases down his orgasm giving her a pearl necklace, chuckling and caressing her cheek.

"There's my princess."

#misha speaks #chubby!transfem!steve harrington #chaser!eddie munson #chubby kink #transfem steve harrington #steddie #diner au

[ladyyatexel]

Thinking about the deviantART kerfuffle made me think that there's really no other art website where I've found significant community or interaction that makes sense. ArtStation is OVERWHELMINGLY just for men making grim dark video game assets. I posted things there, but I felt like I was not supposed to. I also posted to Pixiv, but I feel both like I am not supposed to post there and like the predominantly Japanese audience does not like the style of my work. None of the anything on Twitter makes any fucking sense to me. Instagram's box is really limiting. Toy House is nice to have to keep a little always accessible stash for my characters, but the focus there seems to be making characters just to sell them to others, which is definitely not what I'm doing.

I wish dA were still alive and functioning better, for sure. I used to have the best fucking time on there. But my account is 20 years old and it has been ages since I got real interactions from humans.

I think I'm a little bit bad at interacting with people for a variety of reasons, so maybe Tumblr is just the only one that my brain finds an acceptable pattern anymore.

I definitely need to force myself to paint things that are not just whatever thing I'm obsessed with if I want to be seen more, though. The prospect of this right now, with everything I have going on, is daunting and makes me tired to even think about. So maybe Right Now is a bad time for this, but I know I definitely should.

Are there other art-focused sites that don't suck?

[crossovershipstournament]

yeah i'll give in to my lack of impulse control to infodump/spread propaganda. megapit aka megaman/pit. super smash bros is only correctly enjoyed when you think of silly dynamics with the characters after all. and then go mad when you make it deep (i did this)

both child soldiers, both have some identity problems. a robot who was meant to just be a kid who had no choice but to be transformed and fight against others of his kind, an angel who is the only one of his kind with desperation to prove himself as a hero despite his inability to fly on his own

they're besties u have to believe me. pit is like nintendo's special little fourth-wall breaking boy. seemingly aware of other games- anyways he's a big fan of megaman. and with a history of being in the infamous cartoon captain n, they are often depicted as being friendz (morally correct. best friends to lovers. you know how it is)

the fluffier aspect has megaman being kind of terrible with romantic gestures in the sense that, being a robot, can sometimes not understand social norms. he embarrasses pit with shameless acts of very sappy cliche acts of romance. and pit is SO impulsive and kind of stupid but he makes megaman smile all the same. he brings a lot of joy!!!!

a ship with a robot comes free with angst. rock (which is megaman's name lol) has your classic robot in love predicaments. he was not built to feel at that level but does it anyway. which can cause glitches and spazzes and malfunctions and it scares him!!!!! woagh. and he thinks pit is just so wonderful and deserves a REAL person to be with. sigh

an angel- pure divine life- falling in love with a synthetic mimicry doing the impossible. do you Understand. Do You See

size difference too btw. megaman is tinie

Okay so not only is this great propaganda, but as a fellow enjoyer of my own robot kid character who just wanted to be a definitely real boy and was forced to fight/be a weapon (and who also has a best friends to lovers ship with him and his own best friend), I am slowly being won over myself 👀

Also heck yeah about the Smash Bros thing; it's part of why I'm such a big fan of CPU Kerfuffle myself. There's so much fun to be had with the dynamics of that game (whether it's with the canon characters or if you're just using them as avatars for your own OCs)

Anyway, great propaganda, great art 👍

#Asks #farraigeart #Propaganda #Fanart

[frogsmulder]

The Redheaded Lover

Historical au 1920s New York; Mulder is a new-to-town photographer who finds his muse in a speakeasy; 6.5k words; rated E; tagging @today-in-fic; credit for the title and cover art go to @medicaldoctordana

many thanks to my betas @baronessblixen @brownies-and-tea​ @dreamingofscully @grahamophone​ @smalldisbeliever​ @starshinescully

It’s not the first time that Dana has patronised the half floor of no.359 for less than legal purposes, but it’s the first time she has been approached by a stranger and charmed out of her self-built world of paperbacks and teacups of liquor. 

She sits in the corner as she usually does, away from the kerfuffle of the crowd of students wasting away their scholarly pursuits, hidden in the dim glow of her table light. She is unseen, unobserved, unattached. At the tip of the alcohol to her tongue, she forgets the day’s gruesome reports–the evil that wanders the streets of New York unchecked–and sinks into the tattered rush seat of the wooden chair. 

He catches her attention when he enters the room, merely in that he is not the type she would have thought to frequent these sorts of places, but thinks nothing of it: more and more people are finding shelter in these establishments and the same could be said for herself. It’s only when he approaches her with two teacups in hand that she observes more closely his character.

"May I?" he asks–rather shyly for someone who has already bought her a drink. He is tall, floppy-haired and kind-eyed; a little scruffy around the edges of his suit but she likes that about him. He is also blushing and biting a plump bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes restlessly shifting from the cup back to her. Amused, Dana places her bookmark on her page and sets the book down.

"Please," she gestures to the empty chair opposite her. The relief let loose from his shoulders as he sits is endearing and she can’t help but return his small smile. "You’re new around here?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"Intuition, I suppose." She smirks and takes a sip from her new cup.

"I’m Mulder by the way." He offers out his hand and she takes it graciously, appreciating his manners, so hard to come by in the modern world it would seem. It’s a little odd for a name but she’s heard worse and doesn’t question it. Everybody has their thing, and God knows she has her fair share of them.

"Dana," she offers in return, shaking his hand. His grip is firm–but gentle–and surprisingly pleasant.

"Nice to meet you, Dana."

There is a beat where she forgets her words, her tongue swelling in her mouth. Her table light catches his feature perfectly, framing him in warmth. She likes the way he says her name and wonders if there is a way she can get him to say it again. She shakes her head free of her thoughts with a smile, not letting herself be flustered for long. "What brings you over to my table then, Mulder?"

"A redhead in a speakeasy called The Redhead?" He waggles his eyebrows at the coincidence, making her laugh. "You have to admit that’s intriguing enough to want to know what she is about. Plus she’s squirrelled away, nose deep in a book. It’s not your everyday scene of affairs."

"Everybody has their Thing, Mulder." She lingers on the feel of his name on her tongue, dragging it out to make her point. 

He chuckles, raising his teacup. "Touché." Resting his cup back down on the table, he cants his head as though assessing her under his gentle gaze. A morose expression becomes him, a sensitivity he hides with a dip of his head. 

"My first name is Fox, if you’re wondering, but I like that even less, so..." He gives a shrug, but it feels like he's imparted a life-long secret. His easy trusting nature worms its way inside her heart and Dana finds herself reaching out to cover his hand with her own. She's intrigued by the soul behind his gentle brown eyes. Or are they green? Maybe grey. She can't help but fall into their depths of emotion–even knowing she should look away and free herself from this stranger's grasp. 

"May I ask what book it is you're reading?" The sound of his voice breaks through to her and she finally blinks and swallows the rest of her thoughts. 

"Mulder on the Links, Agatha Christie."

"A Freudian slip?" Mulder chuckles lightly, as though hadn't just owned a great sadness on the utterance of his given name. 

Gesturing to the cover where it clearly says 'Murder', he bites that delicious lower lip, and she finds herself entertaining ideas beyond this conversation. Heat rises to her cheeks but she enjoys the warm glow and laughs off the embarrassment easily. "The story is very unrealistic, but she can throw in a few good red herrings."

"So you’re more of a pragmatic type?" 

Folding his fingers around hers, he takes her hand that was resting on top of his in his own. Absent-mindedly, she began to brush her thumb over his knuckles. 

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"In other manners of speaking?"

She cocks her head, and finally breaks the spell, retracting her hand to top up on her liquid courage. The alcohol runs smoothly down her throat, coating it in fire and bitterness, and she wants to wince but she maintains her gaze. 

"I can appreciate good art."

He smirks at this although she is uncertain as to why. 

"So, Mulder, why are you really here?"

He chuckles and looks towards the teacup resting on the table in front of him. Beneath the downward tilt of his head, she spies his long eyelashes fluttering as uncertain as she is. He looks up through them at her. "To appreciate fine art… and if you’re willing, create some."

Dana can't help the catch in her breath and the smirk at the corner of her lips. "I am intrigued. How so?"

----------

They walk back through the cold to his studio through the familiar dishevelled corners of downtown New York. In the distance, traffic rumbles and horns blare, the occasional siren wails by. Buildings crowd above their heads, orange light seeping from their upper windows, bathing them in a soft, warm glow. The air pricks at her skin like sharpened fingernails, biting her ankles beneath the hem of her slacks, curling underneath the collar of the jacket he has lent her, although she has it turned up against the breeze. A shiver walks down her spine. Dana pulls a deep breath, cool, invigorating excitement rushing into her lungs. It pools inside her, flowing with the pulse of her blood, tingling along her nerve endings. She turns her nose into the lapel and breathes in again, taking advantage of the cold night to sink into the smell of him in the cloth. As they walk, he leans down, mouth close to her ear, to discuss his offer and she nods, intrigued by his vision. Upon the final corner to his place, his hand drifts to her lower back, guiding her as elegant and as carefree as the breeze. Mulder's smile is genuine and warm and kind when he stops outside the door, fishing for his key. With a playful glint in his eye, he throws and catches them, swiping them out of the air as they jingle. Again with the casual placement of his palm, he lets her enter first.

The light that seeps in through the window is dim, splashing a few golden highlights to the faces of the objects in its path. The rest of the room is shrouded in the shadows of the night. Dana takes a few curious steps, her heels sounding in the silence against the hardwood floor. At the back of the room, she can make out cupboards hanging on the walls, doors mostly gone, and the glint of a kitchen tap. The handles of the mismatched mugs on display make her realise that this isn’t just his studio, but his everything. She is about to turn around, a question on the tip of her tongue, when he flicks on the light switch. 

"Make yourself at home." He openly gestures to the few tatty chairs arranged in the corner opposite the kitchen. "Tea?"

Dana follows him with her eyes as he saunters towards the far end of the room. Self-consciously, she chuckles, "Yes, as long as it’s not that alcoholic sort."

He flashes her a grin and puts the kettle on the stove. 

The chairs, although worse for wear, are extremely comfortable. One of them almost swallows her whole as Dana settles into it, sinking until it ceases its groaning. If she wasn’t thrumming with anticipation, she could have easily let her mind wander to slumberous lands in the arms of a place so homey. As she reluctantly slips off his jacket, she takes in the walls decorated in their own kind of paper. Not a single fleck of paint is visible through the overlapping pieces of art he has created and strung up. He has a talent: that much is evident. Flowing florals and portraits decorate the space, soft and mellow watercolours defined by inks imbue their personality into the very atmosphere. Under the shimmer of the ceiling’s bare bulb, they light up a myriad of fantasy worlds like reading a thousand books.

The kettle lets out a shrill whistle, redirecting her attention back to Mulder, who pours the steaming water into two cups. The shirt across his back stretches, temporarily ironing out the creases tight around his muscles. Dana crosses her legs in time for him to peer innocently over his shoulder. "Sugar?"

"Please."

She lets out a sigh and relaxes a little when he looks away for the sugar bowl, feeling a little over her head. Impulsivity isn’t not in her nature, but she is never reckless beyond rationality. Yet here she is in the small space owned by a man she hardly knows, mentally preparing to disrobe and be studied in front of a scrutinising artistic eye. Instead of the peace she had previously felt, her mind skips to the imperfections that would catch him, her hand straying to the singular mole above her lip. He promised her that she wouldn’t be bare; would be free to control all that she wants, but as she eyes the divider over the other side of the room–what it conceals–the idea sits like lead in her stomach. She knows she will be stripped back beyond her naked skin in vulnerability. And still she is not fleeing, but sitting calmly, comfortably, capricously. The proposal is appealing. Beyond her zone of comfort; her known world of experience.

"Dana." He calls out to her again and a wave of déjà vu washes over her, a tea cup proffered, his frame towering tall from her seated position. Mulder quirks his lips and places his cup down on the side table by an empty chair before unceremoniously flopping down. The springs squeak under his weight, the stuffing eaten away over the years barely cushioning the blow. 

The tea is sweet if a little flavourless and she burns her tongue while taking a sip. The air is thick with anticipation, waiting for one of them to speak up first, but pleasant and playful in their awaited parlez. They hold their eyes on each other, each breath of delay intensifying, striking further a silent challenge. A challenge of what she can’t be sure, but she wants to win. Mulder too winces when he takes a sip and she huffs a light laugh. 

"I suppose that makes me the winner then," he declares triumphantly.

"Nonsense: you spoke first," she quips in return, slightly disappointed that she should lose. 

"Ah, but you broke the silence first."

"What were the rules of this game?"

"This was a game?" He chuckles into his cup, almost to himself. "You have never done this before have you?"

Dana can feel heat rise to her cheeks and the words on the end of her tongue before she speaks them, holding up a mirror to her own reflection. "How can you tell?" 

"Intuition, I suppose."

-----------

She sits still patiently in the armchair, watching Mulder shuffle about behind the divider, laying the scene, until her restless curiosity becomes too great. Sliding up behind the partition and peering around, she glimpses something far less artistic than she expected; all mechanical and positioned and precise. No flair or fluid brushstrokes, painter’s palette or creative liberties. And in the centre of all of these workings she would be the cog that drives everything, her painter’s muse. He is bent over, fixing a camera upon a tripod, a blank white wall–his blank canvas. Purity: it’s the first thing that comes to her mind when she takes it all in. The white wall, her white costume, her face free of heavy make-up. Innocence. He had suggested playing around with contrasting shades on their walk back from the bar: bright whites or dark blacks. When she had asked why he had chosen white, his answer had been simple: her beauty was truthful. She still doesn’t believe the image will be as powerful as his vision. There is never light without shade, white without black, innocence without sin. A smudge of one colours the other, adding depth, truth, and realism. But this is her pragmatic view of the world. Dana has a suspicion that Mulder’s dreams are bigger than can be contained by the nature of the Earth. 

"There’s an outlet over there–" He points in its direction without turning to look at her–"could you turn it on please."

Amazed that he even knew that she was there, she graciously finds the plug for a large lamplight, trailing its cable to the wall, and flicks it on. At once, the area is filled with bright light shooting up the walls. It dances across the ceiling, catching Dana’s eye and she looks up, noticing for the first time the patch above them that has been painted more recently: white compared to the aged magnolia hanging above the rest of the room. Currently, the centrepiece of the camera’s focus is on a solitary wooden stool, the only splash of colour in an otherwise stark display. She walks over to it, running her hand along the smooth varnished top. It is dull and chipped, scarred by splatters of paint, but it stands tall and proud and well loved. She tries it on for size. The stool is as tall as those she might find in a café and she has to jump to lift herself up. Grunting when she sits with a thud, Dana peeks over the edge, seeing her feet dangle not quite meeting the floor. She meets his eyes for approval but he is too consumed with her entire form to focus on her eyes. 

He radiates an excitable boyish charm that makes her wonder if this is his first time too. Stooping to adjust the camera, he shifts it back slightly and wipes greasy marks from the lens with a rag.

Empowered, Dana rests her feet on the rungs, relaxing, letting them fall open. Uncouth, her mother would say. Alive, she would say. Her slacks rub against the edge of the seat and she shuffles about, searching for a more comfortable position. Settling for a cornered approach–her legs over one side each–she pushes her hair behind her ear when a flash of brilliant light snaps from behind the camera. Surprised, she jerks her head upward, but Mulder isn’t aware that he has caught her off-guard. Deep in concentration, his lip caught between his teeth, he murmurs something about a test shot, about focus and lighting. It occurs to her that she has never been captured so naturally, where she has no awareness of her observation. It is another kind of freedom. Blink. Click. No flash this time and she can imagine the negative has softer edges, more surreal and enchanting than before. This is more than art; this is magic.

Mulder walks up to her and rests his hands on her shoulders, gently pressing. It’s only then that she realises she is tense, more nervous than she had previously thought. She lets her shoulders sink under his touch, exhaling. His hands are warm and strong, and a comforting weight, melting her like butter. Lifting her chin with a smile, he asks "Is this okay?" When she nods, not trusting herself to speak, he whispers, "Perfect," so quietly Dana wonders if he ever said it at all.

One final test take and the white night shift draped over the divider looms nearer. 

He steps behind the divider when he is finished setting up, leaving her to the emptiness of the stage and her thoughts. She didn’t know what she expected but his quiet respect for her privacy leaves her staring at the shadow of his outline far longer than would be appropriate. She wonders if he can see her shadow too, if he would look. She has faith that he will not, yet the idea is one that lingers as she unbuttons her blouse and slips off her slacks, donning the outfit. It takes her by surprise: the way the soft fabric flows like silky water over her skin, loose like breath over her curves. Smoothing down the gown over her hips, marvelling, Dana hears his voice call to her, "Are you okay, Dana? Is it okay?" She gives herself a twirl and clamps a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle of delight.

"It’s more than okay: it's beautiful. Where did you get it?"

"My sister gave it to me… she also helped me purchase the camera." Mulder’s voice tightens as though talking through a lump in his throat. Although she does not wish to pry, she could not stop her feet from taking the steps towards him, her hand reaching out to his arm, her heart beating wildly as he gives her a sad smile but no further explanation.

She feels the heat of his gaze prickle against her skin in the coolness of the room. His smile turns from one of gentle sorrow to amazement, overcome with the sublime.  "Wow…" His breath hitches for another reason entirely.

He trails his fingertips over the  fabric, descending from her collarbones to the embroidery adorning the top of her décolletage. The touch is light and innocent, though she can tell the moment he becomes self-conscious: he grows hesitant and his hand starts to tremble. Retracting his touch within the prison of his fist, he promptly steps around her and fiddles needlessly with the camera.

"Hey, it’s okay." His eyes are sharp and dark when he glances at her, brimming with something earnest and ineffable. Dana takes his hands away from their incessant fiddling and licks her lips, the broad span of his hands weighing pleasantly against her own comparatively dainty ones. Within an equal air of innocence and suggestiveness, he raises his eyebrows. Releasing a breath she didn’t know she was holding, she smirks. "Let's make some art, artist."

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

Positioning herself on the stool, she sits tall, pride flowing through her veins. She is elegance and grace and beauty: all that she cannot be in real life. It’s a far cry from the gruesome reality that she will have to face once this pocket of escape comes to a close, so she clings all she can to the moment; lives it, breathes it, tastes it, savours it. Every guiding touch he gives her–moving her shoulders this way just so, lifting her chin, turning her head to capture the brightness in her eyes, placing her hands delicately just here or there–she cherishes. It dawns on her and she shivers. She likes his touch. She likes the way he poses her. She likes the feeling of care. She is completely at his mercy yet she is powerful. Scrunching her toes to steady the heavy emotions rushing through her, Dana looks up into Mulder's eyes–a warm brown in this light–as he adjusts the position of her hand that her chin rests on.

"Is this okay?" he asks as he always does after modelling her like clay in his hands. She hums, agreeing, a little tipsy under his scrutiny. Mulder steps around the back of her to tease her hair forward and she can swear she feels his warm breath tickle behind her ear when he asks his question again. His fingers dance over her skin and across her shoulders, dragging with them the shoulder of the shift. She lets it fall from her shoulder, revealing more of her skin yet. "And this?" he poses again. 

Dana is fully conscious that she can say no at any time, yet she lets the photographs become slowly more alluring with each take. She is alive–on fire. With every question he asks her, she feels safe and seen. Seen by the lens of the camera, seen in the negative film, seen by him. Truly seen. 

The camera shutter closes with a click and an idea sparks from the fire growing within her. Boldly, she clambers down from the stool, never breaking his gaze until she slides in front of him, handling the camera herself. Tilting her head up towards him but keeping her focus trained on the equipment at her fingertips, Dana does not ask him. 

"Show me how I do it."

"The camera?" She doesn't mistake the husk in his voice. 

"Yes." 

Any increment of his professional guise remaining lowers entirely as he smiles. Dropping his lips to the shell of her ear, he shows her how to adjust the focus, the effects of lighting, of exposure periods, as if bestowing a coveted secret ingredient in the recipe of his work. Using a flash, Dana documents her disappearance from the frame, and smiles with glee. The stool is stark against the white background; cold and lonely but not to be dismissed without a story. Collectively, she likes how fluid her movement is within the stills. Like snapshots of someone else’s life, someone who gets to grow and move on, move beyond restrictive boxes. 

Mulder hums his agreement, somehow understanding her narrative although she has not spoken a word–hardly taken a breath–as she composed her scene. She wonders if he can taste her silent excitement at becoming her own author, her own painter, her own power. Without looking, she feels for his hand behind her, bringing him with her to the spotlight. If he's surprised he doesn't show it. 

She takes his rumpled jacket off and adjusts his loosened tie, grazing her fingers over his soft chest hair just peeking out from the first undone button. His shirt sleeves are perfectly rolled up to his elbows but his hair isn't quite mussed enough, she tells herself. It's an excuse to run her fingers through his floppy, dark locks and she doesn't lie to herself that she's wanted to do it since she first set eyes on him. Folding his arms across his middle, she gently lowers his head, telling him to smile. Mulder’s smirk is adorable and just like the rest of him: perfect. 

With him as her muse, Dana paints a portrait of demure desire, coy in catching the flame she feels grow between them. Mulder lets her pose him with grace, complementing her artistic eye and suggesting different twists on her vision. "Like this?" He looks up at her, bashful, through long, dark eyelashes, his cheeks touched pink. Dana hums.

"Maybe like this."

She takes the fingers of his left hand and curls them around the back of his neck. He holds his hand in place, his expression turning to one of challenge, reading her evocative intentions. When she runs her thumb across her lips, he stifles a moan. When the same thumb presses its painted imprint across his lips he shifts in his seat, although she spies his growing conundrum out of the corner of her eye. She makes an effort not to linger on the sensation of his supple lips under her command, nor the way it feels as though he is tentatively kissing her thumb. 

She steps away. 

The bulb flashes yet his eyes are dark: trained on her rather than the camera. When she walks over again, he pulls her in by the waist and she eagerly steps between his legs, pressing her lips to his and delving her tongue deep into his mouth. Her hands journey to his jaw, cupping him in the palm of her hands, tasting him as he serves himself up to her. Mulder meets her zeal with slow, savouring kisses, the kind to make her knees weak and her lips bruise. Gradually, he pulls away, dragging her lips with his until he lets her have them back. Opening his eyes, he breaks their bond and the silence suddenly rushes to her ears. 

"Dana…" On his tongue, her name is like a whisper in the breeze, so light it could be carried away as easily as an autumnal leaf. Yet it lingers, makes itself heard again that she can’t disregard his reverence as it settles in her belly. He reaches up with such care to tuck her hair behind her ear. "...Please."

She licks her lips, feeling the ache of them already. With steady fingers, she strips Mulder of his tie, and then begins to unbutton his shirt, exposing him to her. She undresses him with as much care and precision as she had posed him, caressing his lithe body in wonder and admiration. Pulling her own silk shift above her head, she lets it flutter to the floor, completely bare before him. Despite her nakedness, she doesn’t feel vulnerable–quite the opposite: safe, emboldened even. If she could only take a photo of them now, encapsulate the moment of this person she wants to remember being. She is confident he won’t let her fall.

Mulder’s hands casually find their way back to her hips and the way his thumbs tenderly brush against her skin makes her shiver. The cold peaks over her chest and around her body, lighting goose bumps in the wake of the gentle draft. He trails the rise of her flesh delicately over her stomach. Dana bites her lip and breathes heavily through her nose, concentrating on not collapsing in a fit of laughter, as he grazes over a particularly sensitive spot. He notices the muscles of her core tensing under his caress and his eyes wander up to hers.

"Ticklish?" Before he can play any trick, she moves his hands to her breasts, letting him squeeze and play with the ache that rests in them. "Are these ticklish too?"

Dana chuckles as he swipes his thumb over her pert nipple. Stepping into his touch, she reaches for the fastening of his pants. The motion is fluid as he stands and she pulls the waist over his hips, letting the clothing slip to the floor like water running its course. She fingers the hem of his underwear but he gives her a moment, cradling her face in his safe palms, greeting her with tender kisses once more. 

"You’re okay with this?" The words brush against her lips as he pulls away. It is the first time either of them have given voice to their actions, 

Breathing in the fire-crackling atmosphere, she nods. "Yes."

Lost in thought and the shifting light in his eyes, Dana leans into him, up on the tips of her toes and seals her promise of desire. It is a stretch, but under his hands she feels just as tall as him. Those large hands send sparks scattering across her skin as they flow from her cheeks down her neck, bracing at her shoulders briefly before shifting further, exploring her body as she plays with removing the last piece of clothing remaining between them. Fingers and thumbs make lazy patterns over her skin, swooping around the curve of her breasts and diving towards her navel. Arching into his touch, she barely keeps the moan behind locked lips. Every brushstroke of his deft fingers paints her with arousal. Dana slips her fingers inside his underwear and lowers them from his slender hips. They go skittering across the hardwood floor when he kicks them away; discarded and quickly forgotten. She doesn’t look as her hands skim inwards, meeting the coarse hair that trails down, her eyes closed, melting against his tongue in her mouth. Already impressive in her hand, she runs her finger over the length of him, mesmerised, feeling him twitch, and trembles at the knees at the mere thought–  

Mulder lifts her off of her feet abruptly, turning around swiftly, so it feels like she is floating, weightless, flying. Dana’s laugh of delight lights up the set, mingling with his own chuckle as their foreheads meet, the train of their eyes locked on one another. She embraces him, ankles locked around him, her arms around his neck; she grins indolently when she rolls her hips in his grasp, grinding herself against him. He pinches her thigh playfully–not hard enough to hurt–when he sets her down on the stool. Leaning back, grasping the edge behind her, she arches her chest and draws him in closer, tightening her grasp on him between her legs.

“Dana,” he murmurs with half a breath. She lets her eyes move from his, roam over the rest of him and find their way back to his face, a blush colouring his cheeks. He’s rocking gently; the glide of his cock over her folds heavenly but not quite enough. Done already with the teasing, she grunts, but still he teases some more.

“Please… Mulder–oh.”

And then he is buried inside her, filling her exquisitely. 

Head bent down to her shoulder, Mulder scrapes his teeth along her skin, waiting for the overwhelming sensation of union to wash away. Dana curls her fingers tentatively through his tousled hair, letting her nails scratch over his scalp in reply to the spot he is making that she knows will bruise tomorrow. Painting her with his mouth. She moans at the thought of what it will look like. How he is making her ache: that mark, her breasts, her centre. His hands are large on her hips holding her in place, all encompassing yet light. She tugs with her legs and he finally looks up, his eyes now flecked with shimmers of gold and green, and begins to move.

 She clings to his shoulder, the back of his neck, encourages him closer to play with his lips. She laughs, incredulous to the freedom pulsing through her, the adrenaline, the pure pleasure of him inside of her. It shouldn’t feel this good but it does.

Who was he an hour ago to her? Barely a pick up line in a sleazy speakeasy. Two hours ago? She hadn’t the pleasure of knowing his face, his smile. Not even a figment that such men existed. Yet it all felt so inevitable.

His thrusts remain slow in this awkward position, sweat forming at his brow. Torn between wanting to savour this languid pulse and build to something greater, Dana whimpers and grunts with frustration; curses softly at the pleasure and the wake it leaves in her, needing more. 

“Wait, Mulder. This isn’t going to work.”

“What do you need?” The husk of his voice flashes through her.

“Faster, I need–”

Mulder slips out of her and now suddenly empty, her legs tighten around him mourning the loss. His hands slide from her hips to under her thighs, leaving a trail of goose bumps after his touch, and swiftly, he lifts her up, taking them to the corner of his apartment that acts as his living room. Along the couch, he lies her down, the old springs retorting under their weight. All of his furniture–the little that he has– is comfortable and familiar and well-loved, and as she turns her head to the side, letting him kiss down her neck, she can smell the years of him woven into the fabric, a fine thread becoming one with the couch itself. She can feel the dips under her body from where he has been, and over time, moulded the material to his shape. It is unexpectedly personal and intimate, even as his tongue skims around her nipple. Closing her eyes, she sinks into the feeling, arches against his mouth, but before he can slip inside her again, she is sitting up and pushing him to sit back, straddling him. 

He laughs, taken by surprise. “Are you always this…” The words falter on the tip of his tongue, failing for ways to describe what it is he is trying to say. She arches a brow. 

“Am I always this, what?” she asks, goading him with a grin.

“…Pragmatic?”

She chuckles as she sinks down onto him again. Mulder groans, his head tipped back and his hands anchoring her by her hips, restricting her movement. 

"God, don't laugh when you're doing that." 

She laughs again, unbidden, and clenches around him purposefully. 

"Fuck."

"Feel good?" She taunts, grinding against him despite his hold on her. 

"Jesus, Dana," he breathes, skating his hands up her body. She moans as they pass over her breasts, heavy and sensitive. He kisses her deeply, begging her to move.

Steadily, she rises on her knees, squeezing her eyes shut at the pleasure the motion brings. Waiting at the apex of her arch, she teases them both with thoughts of her sinking down again, drawing out the sensation before giving in to the pull of gravity and his beckoning fingers grazing her clitoris. Her eyes spark open and she gasps when he finds the perfect angle with the pad of his thumb, swirling while her heart flutters somersaults in her chest. Dana’s thighs burn, her skin prickling with drops of sweat, as she moves quicker, chasing the feeling building in her centre. Mulder’s tongue makes her shiver although his licks and caresses are warm and his breath is hot on her neck. She bucks against the increase in pressure he applies through his thumb, the feeling harsh but not unpleasant; digs her nails into the rough material of the back of the couch cushions, calling out to God as it scrapes and burns against her knees. It is giddying and liberating, the way she floats freely through feelings of her body, breaking free of everyday restraints, regaining control and letting it fly loose all in one instant.

His other hand squeezes her thigh. "Dana, I’m close,” he pants, eyes rolling back and his jaw slackening. “So close… Need–”

“Shh,” she hushes him, already slipping off and replacing her body with the firm strokes of her small hand. She doesn't mind that when he comes it is all over her stomach: the thrill and exhilaration of it overcomes her. Still, she squeezes his legs between hers, rocking against him, searching for friction to fill her emptiness. Dana whines with frustration when Mulder turns them over, gently resting her on the other side of the couch. Wordlessly, he stands with purpose and a sheepish smile, turning about before disappearing behind the partition. 

Bracing herself, she sits up, curiosity piqued. “Mulder?” she calls out into the dimness of his apartment. Only the flicker of the light answered her as his shadow moved across it. He soon returns with a soft lens cloth, carefully cleaning up the mess he's left, shrugging when she raises an eyebrow at his instrument of choice. 

"I can always get another one.” 

The cloth is abandoned in favour of his mouth exploring the taste of her skin. She leans back again, watching as he descends down her body, finding his unfinished business between her thighs. He hums with approval at every reaction he garners from her: every gasp of breath, every twitch of her thighs, every buck of her hips. It is toe curling and breath stealing; pulse thrumming and head spinning; cushion clenching and muscle tensing; scream silenting and back arching. It is mouth-clampingly good.

----------

Two mis-matched cups of water drunk later, Dana is looking for her slacks and blouse where she left them behind the partition, now keenly aware of the chill that tickles her sweat-dampened skin. Sighing, she pulls the blouse over her head, letting the material hide the etching of a smirk at the corner of her mouth as it falls over her body. She hears Mulder approaching her from the other side of the divide, his weight making a different flank of wood creak with every footstep. She waits for him to say something, but the seconds pass and the silence drags.

“Mulder?” Dana hugs her blouse tight across her chest as she does up each button.

“I’m sorry: I was waiting for you to dress.”

Dana steps around to face him, fastening the catch on her slacks. “Why? You have already seen me naked once before.” The taunt in her voice and the coyness of her smile make him cast his eyes to the floor, blushing. 

“It would be rude to make a habit of it so soon.”

“But at a later date perhaps?”

His laugh makes her stomach flutter like paper butterflies.

“How are you travelling home?”

She quirks an eyebrow at his simple question.

“It is dark and late, and this city is not always the friendliest after hours.”

“I live not far from here, I should be fine,” she replies in a cool tone, not wanting to outstay her welcome and complicate an easy night of art, yet her emphasis is dullened by the yawn that catches her off guard. When she meets his eyes again, it is him who has the taunting look but a kind smile too. 

“You are welcome to stay as long as you like. I’ll crash on the couch, there’s a bed in the room in the back, and there’s some food in the cupboards I’m pretty sure, although I have to admit it’s been a while since I last checked: not much of a cook.”

She can feel another yawn working its way through her and suddenly her eyes feel heavy with the weight of the night. “Okay,” she sighs in defeat, the prospect of walking home seemingly growing more and more arduous, knowing it was further away than what she had made out to be. “But I won’t take your bed from you. I will be fine on the couch.”

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

An hour later, his fingers wander across her bare skin drawing idle patterns over her hip. Any other time, any other person, she would have found the gesture possessive, but she can feel the artistic dexterity in his fingers as he paints, soothing her rather than the opposite. Sleepily, she wonders why she feels so at ease with this stranger, but the thought is fleeting. Shuffling closer to him in his bed, she ignores her inner protests, reasoning that it would only become complicated if she let it.

Mulder wakes in the middle of the night and watches how the dim moonlight dances over the rise and fall of her sleeping form through the window. He briefly wonders what she would look like in the early rays of the morning sun, how her hair would set alight with an ethereal glow.

When he wakes in the morning, she is gone. 

#msr #xf fanfic #historical au #fox mulder #dana scully #my wriring

[invisibleraven]

Another prompt! "braiding the other’s hair" for Julie & Willie?

Willie was confused when he didn't find his boyfriend or his band mates in the Molinas garage. Alex wasn't answering his cell, which usually meant band practice, and he didn't dare check the Mercer home for him. Alex's parents barely tolerated his sexuality, so he doubted his boyfriend just popping by would go over well.

Instead he ambled up the walk, knocking lightly on the door, then pushing it open. Julie's dad said any of her friends were welcome anytime, so he usually let himself in. Ray and Carlos weren't about, and he didn't see the guys, so he helped himself to an apple, munching loudly.

"Don't help yourself or anything," Julie snarked from the doorway. Willie spun around and grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry, your dad..." but then Willie saw that Julie was grinning at him. "Anyways, I was looking for Alex, have you seen him?"

Julie opened up the fridge, snatching up one of the cupcakes there, and taking a huge bite. Licking the frosting from her lips, she finally answered. "Reggie wanted to go see the new sci-fi movie, and the guys went with him. Alex probably turned his phone off. Do you wanna hang until then?"

"Hang? Us? W-we've never done that before," Willie stammered.

Julie shrugged, "First time for everything. We can do each other's hair, chat about boys, talk about art..."

"I'd like that," Willie grinned. Soon enough they were in Julie's bedroom. Willie had a animal print sheet mask on as he braided Julie's hair. Julie had a similar mask on, painting her nails as her music played softly in the background.

"So, boys huh?" Willie asked. "Any in particular you've got your eyes on?"

Julie blushed beneath her mask, and hummed. "There... may be a guy I've got my eye on."

"Let me guess, he's dreamy cute, has nice arms, and plays a musical instrument," Willie said with a smirk.

"He does have nice arms," Julie sighed, looking a little dreamy. "And he's so sweet, and talented..."She gave a meek little cough then, blowing on her nails. "So um, how are things with you and Alex?"

Willie smirked, finishing off Julie's braid. "We're good, we have a date night on Saturday, I'm trying to teach him how to skateboard. It's gonna be a disaster."

"Oh it totally is," Julie replied, sharing a conspiratorial smile with Willie. "Swap places?"

Willie nodded, sitting on the floor and choosing a bright teal colour for his nails, tongue sticking out as he carefully applied a coat while Julie worked his hair into a messy fishtail. They spent the next half hour gossiping about celebrities, the band, and enjoying each other's comapny.

"You know, I thought it would be awkward, the two of us hanging out, but it's been really nice," Willie said as he leaned against Julie's bed, looking up at her as she hung off the side.

She grinned back, "Yeah, we should definitely do it more often. I need another queer PoC to lament about our himbos with."

The two of them giggled, and were still in the throes of laughter when Alex, Luke and Reggie poked their heads in, wondering what the kerfuffle was about. Julie didn't miss the way Alex lit up at seeing Willie, especially with his hair and nails all done.

And well, Willie didn't miss the way that Julie blushed when one of her other boys sat next to her, but it definitely wasn't the one he was expecting. But the way that Luke and Alex shared smug grins at Reggie's equally vibrant blush while he sat next to Julie, well Willie wondered how up to a gossip night the boys would be.

#filled prompts #ficlet #willie & julie #hints of rulie #julie and the phantoms

[paigelts05]

The no-go-extension [FNAF, Renegade AU]

https://www.deviantart.com/paigelts05/art/The-no-go-extension-FNAF-Renegade-AU-929917763

Renegade File Server Location: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23858029

Published: Sep 18, 2022

I'm here again making more FNAF AR emails content. This time, I'm focusing on Nora and Tristan's exchange regarding the kerfuffle with the toy animatronics and thier facial recognition systems. And as this is the Renegade AU, there is a lot which is said in person, and many conversations that the email server does not see. Note, Nora is 32 and is 5 foot 7 and a half and Tristan is in his mid 20's and is over 7 feet tall. Nora only looks 'younger' because she works with people who are ridiculously tall whilst she stands at an average man's height. =°•.🌹 Story 🌹.•°=

°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•🌹•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*° "'HR'? That holds all the water weight of 'I'm telling dad'!" Nora huffed as she stared up at Tristan. "I had to go above your head about this! Everyone was telling me to add the extension! I couldn't just not implement it based on YOUR rejection. Thier research team would suspect something if I didn't!" The stress of being the one to build the vast majority of the toy animatronics all by herself was getting to Nora. Tristan, Charles, and Izzy had been saddled with their own back breaking work, each in a different department, courtesy of Fazbear Entertainment; thier contractee. "Well, anyway, it seems that both of us were fed conflicting information." Tristan shifted his gaze from Nora to glare at the deactivated Toy Freddy and Toy Bonnie that sat within Nora's workstation. He wanted to help her tear the facial recognition systems out of those machines, but he had been saddled up to the neck with Faz Ent's 'compliance team' work. "Well, I need to find a way to fix that issue by tomorrow morning, AND I have to finish up that stupid fox!" Nora slammed her fists down on her desk, "And I mean what I said about marketing." Tristan reached out to Nora, as he usually did, but she jerked away, giving him only a glare. "Look, Faz Ent' would have my head if I hadn't responded like I did," He couldn't even look at Nora now without feeling a pang of guilt. He had to make Fazbear Entertainment think he was the compliance team member they thought he was; act the bad guy, but was it worth ... This? "You should know this better than anyone by now." Nora stayed quiet for a moment. She didn't even look Tristan's way as she finally spoke. "But I've got those three robots to finish, and the guys over 'there' just keep sleeping on the job." The silence between the two was deafening. The contract, the robots, Nora's useless 'team' over at Faz Ent', being split and used as if they were themselves just employees of Fazbear Entertainment... It was becoming too much. Each felt a hand on one of thier shoulders. "I know you're stressed, with Fazbear Entertainment having us each work in one of thier departments. But we can't let that get to us." Charles, exhausted out of his mind, was behind the two of them. By the sounds of it, he had heard everything. "How!" Nora yelled, "I have two robots to overhaul in a night because everyone was telling me different things, and another due way too soon!" "Well, we have a lot at our disposal." Charles stated, "first, by having us work from our own building, we have been afforded the upper hand of being able to speak with one another without them being able to monitor our every move: we can speak in person. You two have done a good job so far of keeping suspicions low, acting the part they gave you, but you haven't been using our advantage, and we need to speak in-person far more than what we're doing right now." Both Tristan and Nora were quiet. "I have a feeling that this contract was designed to break us." Charles continued, "make us do the heavy lifting, treat us like they treat their own, then blame us when things go wrong to keep thier name clean." "And make us take the truth to our graves." Tristan's voice was almost a hiss. His life had already been threatened by the contractee once this week: an exec with a gun is never something you should brush off. "And the bastards are trying to get those robots to kill my Nora." Nora's face flushed red. "I- is that why they pushed me to install those blacklisted extensions?! And - you! You were - how do? AAARGH!" The suddenness of this revelation was becoming too much, and she hid her burning face behind her hands. "If you'd have told me, we wouldn't have had this argument!" She finally formulated what she had to say from behind her hands. "I couldn't." Tristan grimaced, "I was trapped at my desk with every testing and safety report due now now now, and if I emailed you, I'd have a bullet in my head right now too." Nora couldn't respond. Her blood went cold. She couldn't fathom or stomach the thought, but it was now burned into her mind. "Look, when those bots activate, they'll be normal for a while. Enough to get past testing, if bearly. You've tested them a bit yourself, right?" Tristan turned to Nora for an answer. Nora nodded. "So they know your face." The words that followed felt like bile in Tristan's throat. "So that when Fazbear decides they're done with us, they can send the command to kill, and have them target you." Nora felt herself shaking. Her life was in danger. The Toy Bonnie and Freddy were practically done, all that was left was the finishing touches. They could be activated at any time - now even - and just as easily, they could kill her. "I'm scared..." She whimpered, her boisterous demeanor all but gone. "We all are. We need to remove thier facial recognition systems as soon as possible." "But how did you figure out that they were trying to kill me?" Nora's question beckoned in an eerie silence. Tristan had explained how Fazbear Entertainment would use the toy animatronics to kill Nora, but he never said how this information fell into his hands. "I'd rather not share who I got this information from. For thier safety, as well as mine." Whilst he wanted to share all he knew, it was clear that some secrets were best kept for now, "They contacted me in-person and told me what was going on. They've also sent me a catalogue of news articles from many years ago. No doubt they're trying to prepare me for something dangerous ." Nora and Charles nodded. This was confirmed to be as bad, if not worse, than they imagined. But they just had to hold out until either the contract ended or Faz Ent' broke thier end of the contract. "Again, I suggest we work on removing the facial recognition systems first." "But how will I do that!? It's late and you're all busy or tired!" Nora felt fit to burst out sobbing. "You could get 'outside help'. We may be exhausted, but this could well be a life or death situation. We can afford to direct our attention to helping you; we know you'd do the same if another of us were in your position, and I think that falling a bit behind is the least of our worries right now." Charles once again proved to be the voice of reason, "and the systems are not supposed to be there anyway, correct? And the bugs? Non-reproducable? What if we make sure it never happens again." "I think I know what you're getting at, but I don't know if they'll notice." Nora looked over at Charles and Tristan, "they'll know something's wrong if they suddenly start working differently." "How about that workaround Tristan considered. We can make it act the same, but be ultimately benign." Charles replied, "it'll be as if you're following both sets of orders, so you can fall back on whichever one the higher-ups wind up demanding in the end." "And the fox?" The mass of parts in Nora's workstation that reminded her that she had such an exotic machine to try and build in such a short period of time made her worry for her life. "I can get marketing to push the release back a few weeks." Tristan looked at Nora, and for once today, the pit in his stomach was not there. "I can buy us the time we need." Choking back tears, Nora nodded. "Thank you." She wanted to cry, but if she wanted to live to the end of the week, now was not the time for emotions to get the better of her. The trio was quiet for a moment before Charles broke the silence. "You two get a head start. I'll call Izzy. We work two to a machine." Nora and Tristan nodded. They had to get started now or never, and work fast and smart. They had facial recognition systems to uninstall, and they were certain that it wouldn't go away without a fight. °*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•🌹•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°•°*°

#2022 #fnaf #fnaf au #FNAF Renegade AU #Renegade AU #fnaf fanart #fnaf ar special delivery #fnaf ar emails #fnaf ar tristain #fnaf ar charles #fnaf ar #fnaf nora #fnaf tristan #fnaf charles #Nora x Tristain #FNAF Nora x Tristain #tristain x nora #fnaf ar nora #noristain #fnaf special delivery #artists on tumblr

[marronbunnie]

happy birthday idia!!! 💀💐🧹

#kerfuffle does an art #idia shroud #twisted wonderland #i'm not gonna lie that bouquet took a few years off my life #turned a four hour piece into a nine hour one ..... #but i think it was well worth it!!!! #idia deserves the effort for a nice bday piece nods nods

[dailyrugbytoday]

Joe Marler has been banned for two weeks for comments to Jake Heenan

New Post has been published on https://thedailyrugby.com/joe-marler-has-been-banned-for-two-weeks-for-comments-to-jake-heenan/

The Daily Rugby

https://thedailyrugby.com/joe-marler-has-been-banned-for-two-weeks-for-comments-to-jake-heenan/

Joe Marler has been banned for two weeks for comments to Jake Heenan

Joe Marler has been banned for two weeks with a further four weeks suspended for comments made towards Bristol flanker Jake Heenan.

Harlequins and England prop Joe Marler, who accepted a charge of conduct prejudicial to the game, made the remarks during the first half of Tuesday’s Premiership match that reportedly related to Heenan’s mother.

The greater 4-week suspension will be activated ought to the 32-yr-antique commit a comparable offence earlier than the end of the 2023-24 season, at the same time as he should also supply a presentation to a nearby membership or college, and to a Premiership academy, on the middle values of the game.

He didn’t recognise the entire context of what he stated. What he stated became incorrect. He reached out to Jake and Jake responded and widely wide-spread his apology and then they had a good chat after that.

“He has been apologetic to us as nicely. He is aggravated that he has dragged the membership into this kerfuffle.” Joe Marler’s ban way he will miss Premiership suits towards Northampton and Sale.

Gareth Graham, who chaired the disciplinary panel, stated: “The insulting and offensive remarks made via the participant have been wholly beside the point; such feedback ought to shape no part of the current recreation.”

It is Joe Marler’s state-of-the-art brush with the rugby authorities. In 2016, he received a two-week suspension and changed into fined £20,000 for calling Wales prop Samson Lee “gypsy boy”, and two years in the past he received a 10-week ban for grabbing Wales lock Alun Wyn Jones’ genitals throughout a Six Nations recreation.

The disciplinary panel took Marler’s chequered records under consideration but additionally noted that he had apologised to Heenan. Speaking in advance of the listening to, Quins head instruct Tabai Matson said: “Clearly, he (Marler) is surely apologetic.

“He didn’t know the overall context of what he stated. What he said changed into wrong. He reached out to Jake and Jake answered and regular his apology and then that they had a great chat after that.

Joe Marler has received a two-week suspension following the conclusion of his disciplinary hearing earlier today.#COYQ

— Harlequins 🃏 (@Harlequins) December 30, 2022

Harlequins and England prop Joe Marler, who accepted a charge of conduct prejudicial to the game, made the remarks during the first half of Tuesday’s Gallagher Premiership match that reportedly related to Heenan’s mother.

The extra four-week suspension will be activated should the 32-year-old commit a similar offence before the end of the 2023-24 season, while he must also give a presentation to a local club or school, and to a Premiership academy, on the core values of the game.

“He has been apologetic to us as well. He is irritated that he has dragged the membership into this kerfuffle.”

Impressive Sale ran in five tries to beat Leicester 40-5 as interim head coach Richard Wigglesworth suffered his first defeat since taking over from Borthwick.

How to watch World Rugby Hamilton Sevens 2023 When does it start, Live streams and schedule

by Roger Brown on December 31, 2022 at 7:27 pm

You are currently looking HSBC World Rugby Sevens live stream 2023 Hamilton Sevens online in HD. It is possible to watch NZ Rugby 7s games online or on TV without an expensive Cable TV package.  US rugby fans can stream every moment live with a Peacock 7-day free trial. Here are some of the best streaming

Ulster V Munster Rugby is this Sunday on New Year’s Day

by Brenda Reed on December 31, 2022 at 5:30 pm

Ulster V Munster will see both Irish sides get their 2023 underway in what’s set to be a thrilling fixture at Kingspan. Between provincial derbies and the Champions Cup, it has been a mixed few weeks for both Ulster and Munster. For Ulster, they will be aiming to show why they looked so impressive at

Best Streaming options to Watch Super Rugby Pacific 2023: When does it start, how to watch

by Roger Brown on December 31, 2022 at 12:37 pm

The Super Rugby will begin a new Pacific competition in 2023, which includes teams from New Zealand, Australia and Pacific Island nations. There will no longer be any Argentine, Japanese, and South African teams in the updated format. This new tournament style comes after the COVID-affected Super Rugby AU 2020 and the Super Rugby Trans-Tasman series in

Rugby World Cup 2023 Spotlight with Flying Fiji

by debrambuhl on December 30, 2022 at 5:47 pm

Fiji may also have most effective made the knockout degrees two times of their history, but they have got lit up each Rugby World Cup they’ve competed in. With their willingness to assault from deep and keep the ball alive, Fiji have produced a number of the event’s standout moments. Most memorable in shape: Unquestionably,

where to watch Munster Vs Ulster Rugby Game for New Year’s Day clash

by Brenda Reed on December 30, 2022 at 5:25 pm

Here is our full guide to 2023 Munster Vs Ulster Rugby live streaming or watching it on TV. How to live stream and watch United Rugby Championship. Munster face Ulster at the Kingspan Stadium in Belfast for a New Year’s Day InterPro clash. On the injury front following a St Stephen’s Day derby with Leinster,

The Sharks bounced back in fine style following their surprise loss at Newcastle last time out, keeping the pressure firmly on Gallagher Premiership leaders Saracens.

Joe Marler’s ban means he will miss Premiership matches against Northampton and Sale.

[anachrosims]

Russia & Wedding Pack: Stop spreading misinformation!

This community is really good at not doing its research and losing its damn mind, so I’m going to take the time out of my day to outline a few things about the wedding pack kerfuffle.

(I know no one’s going to read this because it’s a long one, but whatever.)

This whole mess is all very likely because getting video games into Russia is a massive pain in the ass. The Sims team has shit-all to do with this. If one country says, “hey I don’t want this shit imported here” for literally any reason, then that’s that. It’s not up to the game’s publisher unless the publisher agrees to whatever conditions that country has set to allow the game’s release in their region.

I’ve seen a post going around claiming that Russia doesn’t have any laws against video games entering the country. That is FALSE. Russia does have laws concerning media imports, just like every other country on the planet.

Also, some of you really don’t understand how the video game industry works. Every video game has different regional tweaks based on the laws for media content, marketing, language, and packaging. That means there are DIFFERENT DEVELOPER BUILDS for DIFFERENT REGIONS. Developers are also often NOT the same thing as the publisher OR the distributor. Publishers who can’t afford to open a branch office in Russia will set up business partnerships to help handle marketing and distribution in the region.

Here’s some articles y’all should take a gander at: 

Videogame Law: State of the Art by 2020 (Local Russian Perspective) A local Russian perspective on video game and media laws in Russia.

Selling video games online: Here’s why you must be extra careful A discussion of what it is to market, distribute, and sell video games around the world.

Ukraine tensions: Russia accused of sea blockade

Biden warns Americans in Ukraine to leave...

In brief: media law and regulation in Russia A really interesting read regarding media law in Russia.

The Sims 4′s Latest Game Pack is Banned in Russia

“Gay propaganda” law keeps Sims 4 wedding expansion out of Russia Offers another look into this issue, as well as notes sourced instances of video games being flagged by Russian law.

Now that you’ve (hopefully) at least glanced over the above...

1. EA’s statement on the matter is very carefully worded and most certainly to avoid legal trouble and/or problems with their branch office in Russia. I also want to point out a few bits of their statement that stood out to me:

“ As we moved through our development and brand storytelling process, we became aware that the way we wanted to tell Cam and Dom’s story would not be something we could freely share around the world. “

Specifically this bit: “We became aware that the way we wanted to tell [their] story would not be something we could freely share... “ This is vague, but essentially they’re saying they found out in the middle of development that the marketing for the pack was not going to be appreciated in foreign (read: not North America) markets. This means it was already known in the middle of the project that their marketing would need to be changed. However, even if it was requested that they redo the trailer and marketing--and NOT internal coding of game mechanics--that is STILL likely MONTHS of work that would have to go down the drain for ONE region, AND the Sims team was most assuredly--like most developers do--working with a deadline dictated by their parent company (EA). Bottom line: This problem was known months ago and EA, for whatever reason, decided to go full steam ahead.

2. EA’s statement keeps mentioning “storytelling.” I have to wonder if that means JUST marketing the pack, or parts of the pack’s gameplay itself. This Ars Technica article speculates as much. Bottom line: Whether it was “just a trailer” that needed to be changed, or gameplay mechanics (which would’ve CERTAINLY cost EA months in time and money), we just don’t know. So y’all stop saying it’s ~just a trailer~ when in fact, we don’t know what the fuck needed to be changed, and even if it was the marketing, building an entire marketing campaign from the ground up is INCREDIBLY time consuming and expensive.

3. I’ve seen people asking why it won’t be distributed in Ukraine. Someone I was discussing this with put it better than I could have:

Bottom line: It is not EA’s place to comment on or pick sides in what may become a literal war.  

4. Let me be clear: EA is not innocent here, and make no mistake, this is not EA having principles in favor of the LGBTQ+ community. In all likelihood, they wanted to avoid legal trouble and a monetary loss and/or a delay in the release of the pack. However, it would be completely moronic to blame the Sims team themselves for this. Bottom line: EA is being a company, avoiding unnecessary risk. They are clearly trying to avoid outright mentioning that Russian law is specifically to blame, and by saying they “chose” not to distribute there, they obviously want to avoid an international business embarrassment.

-

Basically what I’m saying is: This issue isn’t EA being meanies and personally attacking the people in that region. This is literally a distribution/monetary issue that happened to coincide with what may become a literal invasion. EA is The Worst and we all know it, but do NOT blame the Sims devs, and do NOT whine and moan about EA not giving you the thing when they don’t actually have as much control over this as you think.

#ts4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 drama #this community sure loves pearlclutching and performative yelling #of all the things to call EA out for this isn't the hill to die on

[socially-anxious-wizard]

Justice League Action, Constantine breakdown:

So in this post I mentioned a breakdown of a scene that works really well for John Constantine’s character in Justice League Action. Let’s break it down shall we?  

summary for this Episode: While Stargirl is babysitting a child called Timmy. Klarion, the Witch boy, infiltrates the house and pretends to be Timmy to get a magical book (The Magdalene Grimoire) from the kid's father. Once he has the book he reveals himself as the Witch Boy and Stargirl calls Batman for help. Batman brings along John Constantine. I’ll be breaking this down with screenshots but full scene here!

We start off great by John immediately being mistaken for a hobo, keeping true to the fact that John is really just a guy in a coat. That’s nothing really that interesting about his appearance: 

Batman then introduces Constantine as a specialist to Stargirl. When Stargirl, Batman, John go to confront Klarion he puts up a magical barrier. 

John immediately goes to investigate, Testing the barrier and already trying to think of something to counter it. (Also it’s very in character for John to just touch something magical without knowing what it does yet, Consequences be damned.) 

Right here is perfect, The slow and calculated steps forwards the barrier. The wide and curious eyes. You can see the cogs turning in his head and it’s perfect. Then you see his expression change into a cocky smile:

Just the arrogant way he casts this spell is great, And the fact he just pulled it out of his never fucking ending coat lmao. Unfortunately the spell doesn't work and Klarion hits back by opening a portal fulling the room with water: 

The Witch Boy is excited by the new magic within the book and closes that portal to open a new one, Leading to this glorious bit: 

JUST,,,,IT’S PERFECT! It’s just so John fucking Constantine. John sees a portal open to Hell and his first thought is let’s fucking flirt with some Demons. True Bicon. The Witch Boy is so done with him. The pure offended expression on Constantine’s face, Mwah 10/10. 

Anyways: John retaliates with another spell, Fuelled by how salty he is that he can’t flirt with the Demon gals:

But of course, This spell fails as well:

So of course, John Constantine master of the Dark Arts: 

Rams a sofa into the occult being fuelled magical shield. Because he’s a professional™

But on to the main reason I wanted to do this long post, On the other side of the shield is of course the Witch Boy but also the kid, Timmy that Stargirl (In her real identity) was babysitting.  He has been hiding because Klarion tricked him into thinking that they were playing hide and seek:

Now the context that makes this next bit so interesting is that John is canonically a victim of child abuse and canonically fond of children. 

John is the only one to reaction and it’s a look of pure “You just fucked up.”

John in a moment that simply says “I’m done fucking around, Time to end this kerfuffle.” and he breaks the barrier. Batman runs at Klarion and in a panic Klarion opens a new portal and vines/tentacles grab Batman and John...Nope I’m not making that joke. 

Stargirl gets the book from Klarion, Frees Batman and John and throws the book to John. Klarion becomes enraged and blasts Batman with fire. Klarion then says:

John isn’t stupid, He knows when he can’t win so he falls back on any advantage he has over his enemy and in this case he couldn’t win with magic alone so he uses his physical strength (Something not really expected from a hardcore magic user.) 

The Episode ends with Batman offering John a lift: 

AND HE JUST WALKS IN AND THE PORTAL CLOSES BEHIND HIM. 

But my point is that people are so insecure that they’ll say over and over again that  Constantine has to be really dark and grim and I’m like yeah, Constantine from day one has been a very depressing character and that can be interesting if handled correctly but honestly I just want something fun. Let this character grow into something better then the shitty insecure comic stories  attached to him. 

So yeah, I’ve not slept and this is my shitty self-indulgent breakdown of why Justice League Action has stronger characterisation of Constantine then his own Comics at times. 

#socially anxious wizard #john constantine #DC #Shitty character breakdown #god help my soul #justice league action #sorry about spelling #Tw child abuse mentioned

[valasania-the-pale]

I’m curious whether you have thoughts on Nerdanel and her decision to leave Fëanor. Any of it—when she reached the breaking point, where she went and what she did, how people thought about it. I’m especially curious whether effectively divorcing a spouse over irreconciliable differences is something that happened… at all in Aman (it seems not, given the kerfuffle with Finwë remarrying).

I've actually had a few - one idea I've become fond of over time is that Nerdanel actually remarries over time, as Feanor is never really intended to leave Mandos before the end (and if he does, it's indicated he'll be the last of the last). Personally, I think it fits the kind of character who would have the fire to match Feanor but the head and/or heart to disagree with him. I think she'd be stubborn enough to divorce him and bold enough to seek happiness after. With whom, well, who knows.

But! that's not really to the point haha.

I think Nerdanel probably found her breaking point around the time that it became apparent that Feanor valued the work of his hands more than his children (and her) - it's written that Nerdanel pleaded with him to leave the Ambarussar with her in Valinor, and that Feanor was the one to deliver the ultimatum, but it's also written (in her Tolkien Gateway page which I went to review) that she spent time with Indis beforehand, which is emblematic of something. I think Nerdanel was quite probably one of the forces working in the background (that Tolkien doesn't like to talk about) keeping things stable in the years before things truly started to go to shit - she's known as the Wise and as one of the few able to truly convince Feanor of anything, especially that which goes against his mood or opinion. Given it took him so relatively long to spiral, I'd imagine she was a big part of what was holding him up. I think towards the end, when his banishment happened, she first must have realized that he didn't value family as much as she had hoped (when he drew steel on Nolofinwe), and that was confirmed when he essentially demanded the lives of their youngest in his crusade to reclaim the Silmarils.

I would imagine that Nerdanel is ultimately someone who has a good sense of what is worth it, and what isn't. She *knows* Feanor, probably better than anyone, and knows how his mind works. She would be the first to realize that family ceased to be the highest priority for him, and when even their children dropped below Silmarils, and honor, and even eternity. She strikes me as the kind of person who can *let go* - not quite a cycle-breaker, but rather someone who refuses to be a part of and enable a cycle of violence. Even when it means letting her kids who, she understands that this isn't somethings she's willing to ruin everything - including herself - for. It's self care, but it's also tragic, because it also means that she would have recognized when *she* dropped in priorities below Feanor in the eyes of her children. She had to let them go die and suffer and for all the knew at the time fight a losing battle against a Vala, and suffer in the Void for it.

Frankly, I think after that sort of decision, Valarin marriage law wouldn't mean anything to her. What does a marriage bond mean to a mother who let her children go off to kill themselves over a few rocks at the behest of their father, her husband? What would they have told her? No?

I think, following this headcanon, that she would have probably either dropped into her art for a long while or else tried her best to work with her brother-in-law-no-longer Arafinwe to fix what was broken in Aman. Perhaps she might have risen in stature as a high counselor to him - she's known as the Wise, after all. There might be tension - she was Feanor's wife, how could she not avert what he had done? Kinslayer by association! Did she mean to pretend she had no hand in what was done in Alqualonde and Losgar? Indeed, I think Nerdanel's very presence in Aman was probably a sore point for many in the long years to follow, and yet, still she had let her children go. How many other parents had done so, to whatever end? How many other Noldor who remained behind think as she - possessed by cruel sanity and hateful prudence?

I would imagine that she found sympathy with Arafinwe and Earwen both on this matter - parents abandoned by their children, for whatever reason, sundered and only seldom hearing snippets of what lay beyond the Sundering Seas.

It was Thorondor who plucked Maedhros from the cliff of Thangorodrim, perhaps Manwe delivered her the news of her eldest and his long torment. Perhaps that would have been enough to drive her into a depression - perhaps she took a long time to carve Maedhros from stone - first from memory, then imagining him now; the missing hand, the scars, the haunted eyes, the grim expression. She hasn't seen his face in so long but she can *feel* the pain etched into his body - he shouldn't have gone. I can only imagine what she might have felt at Feanor's death - "You idiot... What a waste..." Or Amras' death (if he died in Losgar at Feanor's hands). Unthinkable rage.

I think her life would have been complicated past that point. Hearing snippets of her sons. Their foul deeds. Anger and rage and pain creeping into despair, transmuting with time into depression and loneliness. She would later hear of Maglor and Maedhros' last deeds on the record and feel pain, and then nothing. Maybe relief, maybe a vaguest sense of something unfinished, for she knows not where Maglor is. Can only look at the horizon and wonder if she will ever see the sails that herald his arrival.

I *hope* she would eventually find happiness - there is opportunity in eternity. Maybe her sons - having escaped the potential fate of the Void - would eventually emerge from Mandos scourged and reticent, and there would be tears and opened wounds and eventually reconciliation.

I think she would keep them waiting for a long time, if that happened.

Maybe, as I thought earlier, she might even find love anew and remarry. Maybe have a daughter at last, a little sister that the sons could cherish as something new, something untainted, and rediscover love and what family should be worth. If Feanor ever emerged, maybe they might even become friends again - that bond they once shared was sundered irrevocably, but they remembered a time when things were better, and that little spark might be worth capturing.

I have thoughts about Nerdanel.

#ponderings #Erynalasse #Nerdanel

[quickreaver]

Not to like... perpetuate drama, but...

I feel bad for the mods who seem to be trying their best to be neutral. It does feel like they're doing their best and that they've truly pushed themselves into a corner.

Unfortunately it seems like they just can't get past the fear of pissing off the wrong people and...yeah. It's come around to bite them because some Wincest shippers are just sick of it and won't be silent about it.

As for me...I was super excited to participate! I normally write gen/hurt/comfort but I am a closeted Wincest shipper so maybe if the right prompt had come up I would've written Wincest. But this kind of thing is the exact reason I am a closeted Wincest shipper. I hide because I don't want to be treated as something undesirable and that I should be ashamed.

So whether or not they're "allowing" Wincest submissions to their "dark" blog, I'm out because they made me feel gross.

Anyway I'm glad the inclusive one was created 💙

Oh, nonnie. THIS. I feel you so hard. *shares shameful hugs* I'm out-ISH with my Wincest shipping—which mostly confines itself to art, to be honest, because that's what my id digs, and I srsly do prefer gen and gencest in my reading proclivities—and I, too, was super excited about this event, but then. I agree. The mods got themselves stuck between a rock and a hard place. (I talked to a couple of them for a bit, and they were absolutely willing to listen, so kudos to them for that.) For years now, fandom has been forgetting all the wonderful things it's GOOD at: community, creativity, variety, exploring fiction, and having so many excellent ways to filter and tag. Purity culture and virtue signaling has gotten conflated with activism and it's become trendy to ship war in the prescribed way, even tho it winds up being almost entirely misplaced. "Wincesties" (god, I feel like I'm 12 every time I type that out) have been made into bogeymen, and you're not one of the cool SPN kids unless you've got a DNI in your tumblr bio.

But as you age, you live more and experience more and you realize that things aren't as cut and dried and easily compartmentalized as you thought. You're not a bad person for wanting to read or write or create kinky fiction. Any kink. And social media gives EVERYONE a platform, good, bad or otherwise. (I know, I'm preaching to the choir; I'll stop flapping my dentures now.) Thank you for dropping this into my dusty inbox, nonnie. Keep writing/creating. Keep socking it up, if it keeps you safe. And if we continue to choose events that opt for tagging and filters instead of ostracization, we can keep fandom vital and varied. <3 ADDITION: I totally forgot! There WILL be an inclusive witch!Sam event, in response to the kerfuffle!  Please to be clicking here: https://witchsambingo.tumblr.com/ !

#quickreaver speaks #thoughts on fandom #answering asks #supernatural #fandom meta? #witchsamisforeveryone