#or simply add more times to hone skills?

[fanatic-writers]

Adventures in Baby Sitting

Chapter One: The Adventure Begins

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A/n: I have a lot of fun things planned for this series. A lot of it is going to stick to the basis of the show but I also want to add some fun filler-type fics here and there. Some slice of life if you will. If there is anything you'd like to see feel free to send me a message and I will try to incorporate it into the series. I hope yall enjoy this and I'm actually really excited to keep writing this.

Word Count: 1952

Pairing: (Eventual) Din Djarin x Mandalorian!Reader

Warnings: Canon levels of violence but it's very tame, unedited like everything cause I'm lazy lol

Summary: Reader is the Armorer's daughter and is also a foundling. She and Din have known each other for a long time but he was never quite able to break his shell. When the Mandalorians help Din escape with the child she is ordered to go to his ship to help him care for the thing.

You hadn’t seen him come in at first, focused on your work despite the assistance of the machinery crafting armor from beskar wasn’t the easiest task in the world. Although that was the least of your worries. You watched as Din, or the Mandalorian as he was simply called now, fitted in his familiar armor had taken his seat. You glanced up from your work as your mother joined him. She hadn’t beckoned you over, so you did your best to continue despite wanting to catch up with your old friend. The two of you had known each other for quite some time, both foundlings, however, the Armorer had taken you under her wing when the Mandalorian that had found you passed shortly after. You were still too young to take the oath when it happened, but your mother had come to show you everything about her job, from forging to leading. You had grown since then, sworn to walk the path and follow The Way, honing in your skills by making armor for the foundlings. She eventually raised a hand to call you over and you joined her. Standing beside her as she handed you the piece of beskar. “Imperial?” You mumbled looking to the armor-clad man in front of you through your visor. “How did you-?” “It does not matter how.” Your mother spoke up “It is back in its rightful place. I’ll be crafting a pauldron, bring it to the smelter and then finish up with your work.” You nodded, silently doing as you were told. You watched as the beskar melted down, your mother preparing her tools. It wasn’t long before your piece for the Foundlings was finished, and she was handing over the new piece of armor to your friend.

“You didn’t speak to him.” Your mother’s voice filled the room that had been taken over by silence as you cleaned up your workstation. “He didn’t wish to speak.” You responded as you pulled out a failed project from ages ago, preparing to melt it down and turn it into a chest piece for yourself. As part of your practice, the Armorer had wanted you to slowly craft your own armor set, knowing the leather that the both of you wore wouldn’t protect you in every circumstance. “You didn’t ask.” You could hear the smirk on her lips despite the golden helmet that covered her face. If you hadn’t worn a helmet of your own, she’d see the look you gave her, but you hoped she could sense your disdain for her meddling in your relationship. You knew she only wanted what was best for you and that she knew how you felt about Mando, that didn’t mean you wanted her to try and set you up with the guy. “He’ll return eventually, and we will speak.”

Your mother had finished her work for the day, but you weren’t done yet. The sooner you finished your own armor the sooner you could work on more sets for the foundlings. You remembered watching your mother work on other sets of armor, patiently waiting for the day your own would come. Eventually, you were gifted a helmet for when you took the oath but most everything else was made of leather and chainmail. It wasn’t until you were able to create your own armor that you had your own set. You’d grown out of that long ago though. Your hammer swung, the pounding of metal filling the room as you let yourself get lost in your thoughts. What in the hell was Din Djarin doing with Imperial Beskar? And if he had it did it mean they were back? You put your anxiety and fear to work, letting it strengthen your swings. If they were back, you’d need to be ready to protect the Tribe, to protect your small clan. You looked at the chest plate, the final piece you’d needed to complete your set, and smiled softly. You were rarely happy with your work but this one felt right, it felt finished. All it needed now was a coat of paint. You’d have to do that later though. Instead, you cleaned up the armory and put the pieces in their place for when you were ready for them next. After that was finished you slipped from the armory and made your way to your room. The one upside to living with the Mandalorian was that despite the overall lack of privacy provided by the tunnels and caves something as simple as a cloth over an opening was respected as a door and never moved.

You pulled the tarp open over the opening of your small room and got to work removing your leather armor and finally, your helmet, setting it on a ledge next to your bed made of a pile of fabrics and whatever could have been scrounged up. Despite the circumstances, you considered your room rather cozy and your bed comfortable. You lay down and pulled the blanket up to your chin, turning your back to the door should someone intrude for whatever reason.

Days later you had spotted the Mandalorian as he walked down the halls to the all too familiar armory, a smile gracing your lips upon seeing his return. You briefly make your presence known to him before slipping into one of the many side halls that connect to the maze you and your clan had learned to call home. You noticed that there seemed to be quite the commotion going on at the armory, so you made your way there, sure you’d heard Paz getting upset about something yet again. The older Mandalorian always seemed to be in a mood lately, so you mostly stayed out of his way. Your mother made quick work of dispersing the conflict and you joined her in the armory, watching her work. It was expected that one day you would take her mantle. Whenever it was, she retired you had to be ready to not only mold and shape Beskar into the best armor but also become a guide for the Tribe. Your mother had done her best to make sure you would be ready when she was gone, knowing she had left quite the shoes to fill. She was the one who made sure that everyone was safe, especially after the destruction of Mandalore. You stood, lost in your thoughts, along the perimeter of the armor. You moved expertly to the various points your mother had instructed you to go to long ago when you first began your training, making sure you had the best angle to view the work she was doing. It was rare that the opportunity came to make a full set of armor from beskar alone, especially all in one go. You stole glances at the Mandalorian who waited ever so patiently for his new set of armor. Once the pieces were formed you joined your mother in her work, shaping the metal to its final form and making sure that it would function properly. When she was pleased with the pieces you had worked on your mother had tasked you with the making of the whistling birds. You were sure your joy was evident as you began to work on your favorite thing to craft. You carefully placed each “bird” in its slot before handing your piece over to the Mandalorian. “You’ll have to show me your new set-in action.” You spoke as you set the piece on the table “It's rare I get to see my craftmanship at work.” Din nodded before taking the pieces and leaving for the room he rarely used, preferring the razor crest to anything here. You could hear your mother take a breath, preparing to speak. “Don’t start.” You mumbled, causing a soft, and rare, laugh to escape her.

You’d spent the rest of your day working on the finishing touches of your own armor. There wasn’t much paint to go around in the caves, but you’d managed to find a merchant in Nevarro that had some. Youd painted the edges of your armor a pale green, keeping the design rather simple. You wouldn’t have enough to cover the entirety of your set, instead settling for hints of color here and there. Your signet you painted a deep red doing your best to match your helmet. You finished off the rest of your detailing with dull blue accents. “Let's hope your paint has dried.” Your mother spoke from behind you “Din Djarin is in trouble. Put your armor on and meet the rest of us outside” You frowned and turned to her, it had been a while since you’d been caught in a fight. “You are no longer a child; this day would have come soon enough.” Your mother spoke before disappearing. You noticed the others running by, getting to the easy exit points. You quickly slipped your armor on stretching out a bit to make sure everything fit well before leaving in the same path you had watched the Armorer take. “You may need to fight your way there, but I want you on the Razor Crest. Whatever it is your Mandalorian has found is worth fighting for he will need help keeping safe. Understood.” Your mother commanded. “He’s not my Mandalorian.” You mumbled as you made your way out of the tunnel and into the light of day, or rather evening.

The fight had already begun by the time you had emerged from hiding. Most of the fire was in the middle of the street, leaving alleyways open and mostly safe. You ducked behind cover and moved in the shadows as you watched the rest of the Tribe come to Din’s aid. Despite his earlier qualms, you watched as Paz evened the playfield before spotting the Razor Crest. You booked it to the ship, noticing another form entering the hold. Frowning you picked up the pace, only slowing when you remembered you’d need to make a quiet entrance. You weren’t familiar with most of Navarro’s citizens, but it was hard not to recognize Greef Karga. “What do you think you’re doing here?” You asked the man, blaster at the ready. “I could ask you the same.” The man put his hands up, but you knew better than to trust his sign of surrender. You maneuvered so you were further into the hull of the ship, making sure his back was against the entrance rather than your own. “You could make this easy for the both of us and accept your defeat, but you look like a hard-way kinda guy.” Karga chuckled, shaking his head “Aren’t you a smart one?” His hands darted down to his blaster but before he could get a hot off you pulled the trigger on your own, shooting him in the chest. You watched as he flew back a bit before crumbling to the ground, an all too familiar Mandalorian facing you with a bundle in his arms. “Sorry to make a mess in your ship.” You smile at him under your helm, your blaster finding its spot at your hip. “We should go.” You made quick work of rolling the body out of the Razor Crest. “We?” Din asked, keeping the bundle of cloth close to him. “You think my mother trusts you to care for a living thing on your own.” You teased as you walked back over to him, trying to get a peek at just what was buried under all that cloth. “This isn’t your fight.” He contested, trying to find a way to get you off his ship. “It is now.” You shrugged, pushing past him and up to the cockpit.

#mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian fanfic #grogu #star wars fanfic #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian/reader #mandalorian/you #din x reader #din x you #din/you #din djarin/you #din djarin/reader

[arammies]

pac: healing together with your loved ones

aka traits of yours that conciously/subconciously heal your loved ones because some healing is done together :)

i always think about how my uni bestfriend helps me heal my generational and love traumas simply by being themselves sooo this was made ehe

ू focus on the question. then pick a pile that stands out the most to you. you may pick more than one pile. if nothing catches your attention, then there is simply no message for you here at the current moment.

ू many many thanks to my guides and your guides for helping with these messages :)

ू deck used; the final rose tarot

from left to right, top to bottom; pile 1, pile 2, pile 3, pile 4

· · ─────── ˗ ˏˋ ❀ ´ˎ ˗ ─────── · ·

pile 1

[ 6 of cups, 8 of cups, 8 of wands ]

you inspire your loved ones to make hard decisions. to give up. giving up is cool! giving up is okay! when you decide something no longer serves you, no matter how much time and or energy you put into it, you walk away. they find it courageous that you do so, because you are in the present and the unknown of the future does not scare you off more than your worth in the present. if this doesn't work out, you'll get to the next thing and if that doesn't work out too, what a pity but let's try something else. you don't mull too much into it and this amazes them.

· · ─────── ˗ ˏˋ ❀ ´ˎ ˗ ─────── · ·

pile 2

[ 6 of wands, knight of swords, 10 of pentacles, 8 of cups ]

you remind your loved ones to celebrate each step, that you don't have to reach the final destination for you to celebrate. that every achievement counts. and that it's okay to bask it in, brag about it even. you know how much of your heart and soul you've put into it, what's not to brag about? your loved ones are also encouraged to move forward the way you do: simple, straightforward and slow. slow as in to have stable foundation first. at the same time, you're aware that there's many ways to reach a goal. i'm hearing for example, if you want to walk to a house. at the end of the day, no matter which route you take, the house isn't moving anywhere so might as well, enjoy the walk there. that kind of vibe. i feel like this is mostly subconciously but your loved ones are grateful to live life alongside someone like you.

p/s: while shuffling your cards, they kept scrambling everywhere and where id normally get pissed, i just calmly collected them back in and move on. i feel like youre like that. like if something terrible happens, you stare for a while and soak it in and then like "eh. that happened, oh well."

· · ─────── ˗ ˏˋ ❀ ´ˎ ˗ ─────── · ·

pile 3

[ 4 of pentacles, 9 of cups, knight of wands ]

you heal your loved ones with the way you approach your ego. you know when to take control and when to surrender, when to play hard and when to let loose. ego is a fickle thing in general but because you master it, you are always one step ahead in things you're pursuing. you're not shy about it either, you know what you like and or don't like and are eager to get there.

p/s: this one is short and straightforward, i didn't feel the need to add more, i feel you're like that lol.

· · ─────── ˗ ˏˋ ❀ ´ˎ ˗ ─────── · ·

pile 4

[ justice, 8 of pentacles, the magician ]

LMAOOOOO you really have it all going for you, pile four. you are quite literally a one-person-show by yourself. you can do anything and everything. you are a living proof to your loved ones that dedication and consistency pays off because you honed your skills to get to where you are. you know how to be resourceful. you are also authentic, which is too why your loved ones (and others i'm hearing) look up to you because while you're very respected, you take accountability and give credits where it's due.

p/s: the numbers 111, 118 might be significant.

· · ─────── ˗ ˏˋ ❀ ´ˎ ˗ ─────── · ·

#woaH im back lol #☆°(ꈍᴗꈍ) aram pac ू #pick a card reading #pick a pile reading #pick a card #pick a pile #pac #pac reading #tarotblr

[creation-help]

Just a moment, survey yourself.

Body diversity edition

[READ B4 COMMENTING: Not all of these are automatically negative by simply existing, and some questions can have very nuanced answers that can't simply be summer up as "Thing: bad. Stop." I'm making this so you can keep yourself aware and reflective on what you do, and encouraging you to learn, diversify and be on the lookout for anything sketchy. You're not automatically a bad person if some of these apply to you, however just be wary of how. Lack of diversity is a design problem. And it can be improved! You can improve! Not everyone starts out knowing everything and many of these can simply be bc someone really just didn't know. That's okay. Don't start stressing, take it like a champ and think how you can work with the situation. Thank you]

- Have you noticed that the characters you make fat have usually if not always something to do with either greed, materialism, their love of food, or eating, or being spoiled?

- Are you using fatness in character design to communicate something unpleasant? Why? Does it really have to be represented or tied to fatness, or are you just used to seeing fat be presented as negative and ugly in media?

- "Why is this character fat?" Why is this character not? Why is this character thin? Do we really need to justify the existence of fat characters in some way? Fat people in real life simply exist. There can be reasons someone is fat, but that doesn't define them. There isn't always some "cause", but regardless of if there is, that shouldn't impact their right to be here and live their lives same as everyone else.

- Could this character design be made more interesting or distinct if you gave them a different body type? Does the vast majority of your characters have the same weight, body proportions and physical abilities? Is there a concrete reason why you make your designs have such similar body types? Is it really out of story purposes, or are you just unable to think about your designs in other physiques?

- Do you know how to draw different body types in general? Have you taken the time to practice and learn? Any art style can depict a variety of body types, it's not a question of fitting, it's a question of the artist's skill to adapt. That can be learned and honed. Yes, you too can learn.

- How many of your characters have physical disabilities? Is the amount simply tied to the fact that you hadn't thought to add any? Disability is also something you can learn more about and then apply to your stories. Yes, even if you're abled.

- Are you only drawing characters a certain way because you think the other alternatives are ugly? Why? And why shouldn't you learn to draw ugly things too? Do you really think these things are ugly, or are you just not used to seeing it? Ugly traits in character designs isn't a bad thing. But it is bad to give your character traits you deem ugly, in order to present them in a negative light. Real people out there have these traits you think ugly. Ugliness doesn't make someone a bad person.

- Do you know how to appropriately draw various ethnic traits? Do you avoid drawing certain traits because you have a bad impression of the ethnicity? Are the traits you consider ugly, actually just traits different ethnicities have? Do you avoid drawing racial diversity out of inexperience, or are you just nervous to make a mistake? These things can also be learned. Yes, even if you're white.

- Do you assign your ethnic looking characters certain traits simply because you associate this ethnicity with them? Is this backed up by any research, or are you relying on stereotypes that mainstream media always leans on? Are you aware of stereotypes, or harmful biases?

- Do you only draw curvy bodies for sexual or otherwise appearance based reasons? Do you notice yourself portraying curvy characters more sexually simply because of their body type, instead of something related to the character? Do you automatically make your promiscuous and sexual characters a specific body type? Why? Why not some other one? Why can't another body type be sexually attractive?

- In the case of fat characters, are they usually if not always linked to themes that are associated with fatness? Are all your fat mermaids whales or octopi? Why can't cute catgirls be fat? Do you give your fat characters associations with pigs, cows, or other fat animals? Do you do it with all of them? Are you aware of reductive tropes that implicitly reinforce negative stereotypes?

- Do you portray thin characters in a normal way? Do you have thin characters with small boobs, narrow hips, wide shoulders, bulky jaws or protruding features? Do you portray thin characters as anything other than conventionally attractive? Do you intend your thin characters to always look attractive? Do you only portray thinness in relation to poor health? Eating disorders? A character's health isn't always dictated by their body type. Fat people can be healthy, or have eating disorders just the same as thin people.

- Do you always make your male characters traditionally masculine? Are they often muscular or square shaped automatically? Do you portray fat male characters as either comedic or gross? Are you (intentionally or not) saying something about your male characters through how masculine (or not) they are? What? And why? How do you portray feminine male characters? Are they always portrayed as more sexual, innocent or weak? Why? Do you think this could (intentionally or not) say something negative about these characters? Do you infantilize male characters based on certain traits? Their ethnicity, body shape and size, or sexuality?

- Do you always make your female characters feminine? Do they always have only specific traits and body types? Why? Do you automatically portray masculine women as more aggressive, loud or mean? Why? And why don't you do this in comparison to your feminine women? Are you (intentionally or not) often putting masculine women in a negative role in the story? Why? Did you intend this when designing them? Do you give masculine traits to female characters who are meant to be seen as bad? Even if not intended, is there still a harmful pattern in how you do this?

#Body positive #Character design #Artists on tumblr #Fat positive #disabled positivity #disabled artist #fat artist #Fat acceptance #Artblr #infantilism #toxic masculinity #Male gaze #Fatphobia

[redtippedfox]

The Order though they were the ones hunting Ladybug. What they didn't know is that Ladybug hasn't been dwindling her tumbs in the past. She has prepared. And now, it's time for HER to become the hunter instead of the prey... At least until the Big Boss comes out to play...

They were both evenly matched in a horrifying way, Master Fu realized, the Order as that was the name they were given or claimed themselves, were not Akumas nor were they inexperienced idiots like the predecessors of the past. They were handpicked by Ladybug. Trained personally by Ladybug and Chat Noir, taught how to wield their powers and how to adapt to the battlefield. They had knowledge on Marinette and her body language, they knew her like the back of their hand.

But even if they knew Marinette for so long they still could not tame the idea of Marinette’s impulsive tendencies which was a great thing for them as that was what helped them avoid being caught. While as Future Marinette had years of experience in both the battlefield and knowledge of the Miraculous powers, she was just as powerful as the Order. He knew now that his chosen has been in the past for close to a year now, without him even knowing he adds, using the Miraculouses of her enemies and learning how to wield them.

He knows Marinette did not just sit around and wait in the shadows all year, no, no one can wield the Butterfly or Peacock Miraculous the way she did just by putting it on. It was obvious that she trained with them and honed her skill so that she could unlock their secret potential. Her Senticreatures were calm and organized, they showed respect towards Marinette and they obeyed not by force but by choice, Marinette never had to use their Amok to control them, she simply looked at them and asked and they obeyed. She was battle ready to, from power ups to new powers from the Miraculous.

Master Fu knew it would take quite a while till they would be able to round up all the corrupted holders and purify them, Marinette had a plan after all, and if that plan failed she had other plans, she most definitely had mapped out her battle. But even with all the backup plans and the Miraculous plans. Something else was lurking.

Marinette was the hunter, ironically she was the one hunting the feral beast like humans. But still, something told Fu that there was something wrong. The Order knew they were prey, and yet there were small moments in their battles that Master Fu noticed. The feral beast would tell Marinette about how the blue eyed demon missed her or how the Boss missed her and that he was coming for her and the words would strike fear into Marinette’s eyes.

Marinette was the hunter, Master Fu thought, not realizing that Marinette was not the hunter, she was never the hunter. The moment she had fallen into the past she had become the prey. The blue eyed demon that the Order calls their boss was the predator.

Marinette was the prey, someone else was the predator. And they were determined to sink their claws into Marinette.

Marinette was the prey, she has always been his prey.

—————

Haven’t written in weeks due to schedule so thought this would be a fun writing exercise. Thanks for the ask! Send more and I might write more!

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #miraculous au #timey wimey…uh oh au #ask me #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #master fu #my writing

[daughter-of-melpomene]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆… 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐀 𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃

❝ For as long as she could remember, Anastasia had known she was going to win the Hunger Games. The oldest daughter and only child of a pair of politicians from Panem’s wealthy District Two, it had only been a matter of time before she had joined the long line of so-called “career tributes” that had come before her, volunteering for the Games because, as someone from a rich district who had had the advantage of actually being trained for this, she could afford to volunteer with very little fear of dying in the arena. And so, after years of training under the critical eyes of former District Two victors, of honing her skills with weapons of all kinds and developing her hand-to-hand combat skills until she could snap an opponent’s neck in only three moves, sixteen-year-old Anastasia had raised her voice at the Reaping and volunteered for the 72nd Hunger Games, determined and ready to enter the arena and add her name to the long list of victors from her district.

And so she had. After spending nine weeks, one of the longest periods of time a Games had ever lasted, in frozen and desolate terrain that had only toward the end become a blistering desert, after killing her way through twelve of her fellow tributes to become the deadliest tribute in Hunger Games history, Anastasia had been named victor of the 72nd Hunger Games, removed from the arena with both frostbite and a vicious sunburn and the blood of her last remaining competitor still on her hands, and taken back to District Two, where she was greeted with parades and parties and parents who proclaimed they’d never been prouder of her.

And she found that, contrary to what she’d always imagined would happen when she came back home a victor, she fucking hated all of it.

Over the next two years, with the exception of her Victory Tour, Anastasia gradually disappeared from the public eye, refusing all offers of a home in the Capital and training the next round of hopeful career tributes, until she became nothing more than a recluse, a self-imposed captive within the walls of her beautiful District Two penthouse, waking up screaming and thrashing from nightmares almost every night and never quite being able to believe that the blood she’d shed was gone from her hands. With every day that passed, she grew more bitter and full of rage towards the Capital and everyone who supported the Games, how they could watch and even cheer as children slaughtered one another for their entertainment and willingly send these children to die simply as penance for something that had happened so long ago, and with every day she lost a bit more hope that anything was ever going to change, convinced that the terrible cycle of violence was going to keep going and going and going long after she was dead, buried and allowed the privilege of a funeral where so many of the tributes she had killed were not.

But then, two years after the Games that had made Anastasia into a murderer, the two tributes from District Twelve had won the 74th Hunger Games together, choosing to die at the same time rather than let the Capital have its way, and Anastasia’s faith in the world restored itself by just a bit. As Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark began their Victory Tour and all of Panem dealt with the minor chink in the armor of their worldview that had come with their victory, Anastasia made sure to keep an eye on the two of them, becoming more and more intrigued with these two defiant young people from the poorest district and how they continued to defy the Capital’s will even as those in power work to keep them on a leash, and whispers of rebellion travel even into the tall and elegant buildings of Anastasia’s district.

And when the third Quarter Quell comes along, forcing former victors from all districts to once again become tributes and revisit possibly the worst experience of any of their lives, Anastasia finds she is actually looking forward to finally meeting these two and seeing them up close - even if she fully intends to die in the Quarter Quell arena, refusing to let the Capital make any more of a monster out of her. But as the 75th Hunger Games commences and Anastasia finds herself becoming closer and closer to Katniss and Peeta, she wonders if, perhaps, allowing herself to die would be letting the Capital win after all. If it would not be better to survive - hopefully, potentially, with these two people she finds herself beginning to care for - and become a different type of soldier as the rebellion against the Capital kicks off in earnest.

If, after almost three years of horrific nightmares and nails bitten bloody and seeing the faces of the children she murdered everywhere she goes, Anastasia can finally show the glittering pigs in the Capital exactly what happens when they make children into killers and tell them to find peace. ❞

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @auxiliarydetective, @foxesandmagic, @artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations, @stanshollaand, @ginevrastilinski-ocs, @luucypevensie, @carmens-garden, @arrthurpendragon, @fakedatings, @impales, @claryxjackson, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @eddysocs, @lucys-chen, @oneirataxia-girl, @ocappreciationtag.

#my ocs #introducing my ocs #ch: anastasia upland #oc: anastasia upland #fic: there will be blood #queerocs #ocapp #ocappreciation #ochub #allaboutocs #fyeahhungergamesocs #fyeahthgocs #the hunger games oc #hunger games oc #behold my violent and traumatized angel #i do know that the 72nd games has a canon victor but the point of fanfic is supposed to be to change canon isn’t it? #sorry pliny

[pxnsneverland]

Don’t Be Cruel | austin!elvis x oc (part 1)

plot summary: Angel Casteel is a small town girl who lucked into working as a makeup artist at a film studio. Unfortunately, her confidence in herself wavers as she is assigned to work with Elvis on his latest motion picture. Overcome by his star power at first, she slowly starts to realize there is a man behind the fame, a man she understands. But as they grow closer, the world grows more turbulent, especially Elvis's world. Will this Angel be able to save Elvis from himself and the people around him? Or will getting mixed up in his word prove to be her downfall as well?

pairings: austin!elvis x oc

word count: 3088

warnings/notes: Hello my burning loves! Here is my new Elvis fic. Hopefully you guys like it as much as the first. This one focuses more on Elvis's later life than the last one did. Enjoy :)

 Chapter 1

In the sprawling metropolis of Los Angeles, where dreams were born and shattered with equal fervor, a whisper of doubt hung in the air. It seemed inconceivable, unfathomable even, that a young woman hailing from the humble townships of Alabama could find her place amidst the dazzling lights and towering skyscrapers of this urban jungle. Yet, hidden beneath the veil of skepticism, a flicker of determination burned within my heart. I had grown up amidst the rolling fields and close-knit community of a small Alabama town, where the pace of life was gentle and the ambitions modest. But within me, there had an insatiable hunger for something more, a yearning to break free from the confines of familiarity and Nobody, not even my mom and dad believed in me. Perhaps, they had been right all along. After all, I was just a humble makeup artist working for a renowned movie studio. In the quaint little town, I called home, where the days seemed to stretch on endlessly, I found solace in the art of makeup. It became my personal escape, a pastime that allowed me to express my creativity and add a touch of glamour to my otherwise mundane existence. You see, entertainment options were scarce in our humble abode, with the weekly bingo games at Benny's being the highlight of our social calendar. Benny's, a charming establishment, stood proudly as one of the two restaurants in town, offering a respite from the monotony of our everyday lives. Personally, I delved into the world of cosmetics, teaching myself the intricacies of contouring, blending, and highlighting. It was a journey of self-discovery, a path I treaded with unwavering determination. As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, my skills blossomed. I experimented with vibrant eyeshadows that danced across my eyelids like strokes of an artist's brush. I perfected the art of winged eyeliner, the flick at the end of my eyes imbuing me with a sense of confidence I had never known before. And oh, the joy of finding the perfect shade of lipstick, a hue that could transform my entire demeanor with just a single swipe. While others sought their thrills in the boisterous bingo games, I found my own brand of excitement. I had honed my skills to such a degree that, when the time came for me to relocate, fortune smiled upon me, and I unexpectedly stumbled upon a position at a high-profile salon. One day, a lady who worked at a movie studio came in and was so delighted with my work that she offered me a job making actors seem breathtakingly gorgeous or simply awful depending on the role. Life was far from elaborate, each day blending into the next with a monotonous rhythm. Yet, amidst the simplicity, I found contentment. Against all odds, I had managed to carve out a path that stretched far beyond the boundaries of my humble beginnings. It was a leap of faith, a decision to uproot myself from the familiar and venture miles away from the place I once called home.

              As I strolled along the winding pathways of the bustling studio, my mind was consumed with a whirlwind of thoughts. Each step I took brought me closer to my latest assignment, igniting a sense of anticipation within me. The air was thick with creative energy, as fellow artists immersed themselves in their respective projects. The vibrant atmosphere seemed to fuel my imagination, as I pondered the task that lay ahead. I found myself transfixed, my gaze locked upon the delicate piece of paper that had been handed to me by the front office. A sense of apprehension coursed through my veins, causing me to momentarily freeze in my tracks. It was in that very moment that the realization struck me like a bolt of lightning, electrifying my every nerve. As fate would have it, I found myself bestowed with a remarkable opportunity - a chance to be a part of the mesmerizing world of Elvis Presley's latest motion picture. The sheer magnitude of this moment was not lost on me, for I was entrusted with the task of personally adorning the legendary icon's visage with the artistry of makeup. I found myself staring at the assignment card in my hands, my eyes scanning the words repeatedly, as if hoping to uncover some hidden mistake. It was a perplexing task, one that seemed entirely out of place, as if it had been mistakenly assigned to me. Doubt crept into my mind, causing me to question whether I had been handed the wrong card altogether. I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, as if I had been thrust into a world of confusion and uncertainty. As I carefully examined the photograph, my eyes were immediately drawn to the bold letters inscribed on the back. ANGEL CASTEEL. It was as if the air had been violently expelled from my lungs, leaving me gasping for precious oxygen. The weight of the moment pressed down upon me, a heavy burden that threatened to crush my spirit. In that instant, time seemed to stand still, as I struggled to regain my composure and find my footing amidst the chaos that had engulfed me. In the grand tapestry of music history, there emerged a luminary whose brilliance outshone all others - Elvis Presley. With his magnetic charisma and unparalleled talent, he ascended to the pinnacle of stardom, becoming a celestial figure in the realm of entertainment. The world, captivated by his mesmerizing voice and electrifying performances, bestowed upon him the title of the biggest star to ever grace the stage. The weight of his authority hung heavy in the air. I knew that one wrong move, one ill-chosen word, could spell disaster for my future in this place. The thought of crossing him sent shivers down my spine. The consequences were clear - a swift and merciless termination, my dreams shattered in an instant. Doubts crept in, fueled by the disapproving whispers of my parents echoing in my mind. The prospect of facing my family, my head held low in defeat, was a bitter pill to swallow. It seemed as though the world was conspiring against me, determined to prove my parents right about my ill-fated choice to forgo college and embark on an uncertain journey to the land of dreams. The allure of California, with its promises of opportunity and adventure, had once beckoned me like a siren's call. But now, as reality set in, the weight of my decision pressed heavily upon my conscience.  I felt my body physically tremble at the mere notion of it.

              In the depths of my terror, I had managed to block out the world around me, creating a cocoon of isolation. The deafening silence enveloped me, shielding me from the chaos that unfolded just beyond my trembling form. But fate, it seemed, had other plans for me that day. As I stood there, paralyzed by dread, a sudden commotion shattered the stillness. The sound of a golf cart, its wheels skimming the unforgiving concrete, pierced through the veil of my obliviousness. Yet, my senses remained dulled, my mind consumed by the horrors that had gripped me so tightly. It was then, in that fleeting moment, that a voice cut through the air like a sharp blade. "Get out of the way!" it cried; a desperate plea laced with urgency. The words, though muffled by my own mental barricade, managed to penetrate the fortress of my consciousness. Slowly, ever so slowly, the realization dawned upon me. I was in danger. With a surge of adrenaline, I snapped back to reality, my senses awakening from their dormant state. In a flurry of motion, I leaped aside, narrowly evading the impending collision. Yet, in my haste to escape, my own feet betrayed me, entangled in a clumsy dance of their own accord. Gravity, ever unforgiving, seized the opportunity to assert its dominance. With a resounding thud, I found myself abruptly meeting the cold, unyielding ground. The impact reverberated through my being, jolting my senses, and leaving me momentarily stunned. With a sudden jolt, the golf cart came to an abrupt halt. As the dust settled, a figure emerged from the back of the cart, stepping down onto the ground with a purposeful stride.

              “Dammit, Jerry!” The sound of a deep male voice echoed through the air. Its tone was filled with authority and a hint of frustration. “Didn’t I tell you to stop drivin’ like that around the backlot?!” The sound of a deep male voice echoed through the air. Then he was standing over me blocking the sun from my face. A shadow suddenly fell upon me, casting a temporary darkness over my face, his figure silhouetted against the bright sky. With a hint of exasperation, he remarks, “I’m sorry about that, sweetheart. Just my fool of a cousin bein’ a dumb hillbilly.” With a graceful motion, he extended his hand towards me.

              Blinking rapidly, I waited patiently for my eyes to adjust. It took a few fleeting seconds, but soon enough, my vision began to clear. When it did, I realized the man who had just made me forget how to breathe was the same one who was now reaching out his hand to me. The golden rays of the morning sun danced upon his perfectly coiffed hair, transforming it into a radiant halo that encircled his head. His face was akin to the delicate sheen of porcelain. Every contour of his face exuded an air of flawlessness, as if meticulously crafted by the hands of a master artisan. But it was his smile that truly captivated me. It was a smile that radiated warmth and sincerity, etched upon his visage with such finesse that it seemed almost painted, a masterpiece of charm and genuine concern. As our palms connected, I couldn't help but notice the distinct texture of his hand. It bore the unmistakable marks of a seasoned musician, the roughness and calluses a testament to countless hours spent strumming the strings of a guitar. Still, it exuded an undeniable warmth. 

              Elvis effortlessly pulled me up from the ground. His touch was warm, sending a comforting sensation through my body as I rose to my feet. I couldn't help but notice the significant height difference between us. Standing at his shoulder level, I found myself tilting my head back, straining to meet his gaze. “Are you alright?” His voice, even in the most mundane of conversations, possessed a melodic quality.

              “I-I’m fine.” My voice trembled as I spoke, the words barely escaping my lips. I noticed that he had yet to release his grip on my hand. His thumb, in a tender and delicate manner, began to caress the back of my hand, tracing gentle circles that sent a shiver down my spine. It felt nice.

              “I’m glad. I wouldn’t want a pretty lady like you to be out there hatin’ me for almost runnin’ you over.”

              A rosy hue crept up my cheeks. I couldn't help but curse the very strands of my dark hair, for they seemed to possess a mischievous ability to reveal my emotions with such ease. “I don’t hate people over accidents.”

              A chuckle escaped his lips as he released my hand, his eyes twinkling with amusement. With a graceful bend, he reached down to retrieve the assignment card that had slipped from my grasp during my clumsy stumble. With a swift movement, he cast a fleeting glance at the object in question, his eyes briefly grazing its surface. Then, as if entrusting me with a precious secret, he extended his hand, offering it to me. I thought he was going to mention that I was working on his movie, but instead he said, “Angel…what a perfect name for you.”

              “Thank you.” I took the card back, my grip tightening with an intensity that bordered on excessive.

              Just staring at each other, silence fell between us, and I found myself at a loss for words. As his gaze met mine, a surge of emotions coursed through me, causing a fluttering sensation deep within my core. A surge of relief washed over me as Jerry, the proclaimed 'dumb hillbilly' who had nearly collided with me moments ago, bellowed from his perch in the driver's seat of the golf cart that they had to be at the set. Their lateness probably accounted for Jerry's erratic driving. 

              Elvis cast a quick glance over his shoulder, his eyes meeting Jerry's for a fleeting moment before he turned his attention back to me. “You want a ride, darlin’?”

              “What?” I was certain I had misheard him.

              “By the looks of that card you dropped, you’re my new makeup team.” His face lit up with a radiant smile. “My mama taught me betta than to leave behind a woman in distress. Besides, I owe you for Jerry almost hittin’ you with the cart.”

              Every fiber of my being was crying out, begging me to refuse his proposition. My body, like a chorus of voices, was screaming at me, warning me of the potential consequences that lay ahead. It was as if every nerve ending was ablaze with a sense of impending danger, urging me to turn away from his offer. It was telling me that if I stayed in his presence any longer, I would burst and vanish into the wind. But my mother had taught me manners as well, and in the end, they triumphed. With a slight inclination of my head, I acknowledged Elvis's proposal. He gestured for me to follow him, and together we made our way towards the sleek golf cart parked nearby. With a gentle yet firm grip, he assisted me in mounting the back of the cart. And to my surprise, instead of returning to his original spot, he gracefully joined me, settling in beside me.

              As the rickety cart trundled along the worn path, making its way towards the bustling filming stage, my heart raced with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. The weight of my emotions manifested in the tight grip I had on the delicate fabric of my skirt, my fingers digging into the material. There was an air of unease that surrounded me, evident in every aspect of my demeanor. It was as if my discomfort radiated from within, casting a shadow over my every move. Elvis, ever observant, seemed to sense this, his eyes darting sideways every now and then, as if trying to decipher the source of my unease. I mentally smacked myself. What are you so nervous for? For months on end, you have diligently toiled within the confines of this bustling operation, meticulously applying makeup to the countenances of actors and actresses whose visages were once merely a flickering presence on your television screen. Elvis is no different. He’s just another client. With a heavy sigh, I released a deep exhale, feeling the tension dissipate from my body. Slowly, I withdrew my hands from the confines of my skirt, the fabric now bearing the telltale signs of my nervous fidgeting - a collection of wrinkles that mirrored the unrest within me. “Thank you,” I finally said as I turned my head to meet Elvis' gaze, “Givin’ me a ride was very nice of you, Mr. Presley.”

              “Call me Elvis. Mr. Presley is my Daddy and I ain’t that old yet.”

              A soft chuckle escaped my lips, carried away on a gentle breeze. “You don’t look old at all, Elvis.” His name felt foreign on my lips but I found a strange comfort in it.

              “You’re bein’ too nice.” Elvis licked his lips. “I’ve been around this studio for a few years now and I ain’t never seen you around. I’m sure I would have remembered someone like you.”

              My cheeks flushed with a rosy hue once more. “I’ve only been here a few months. Before I was workin’ at a salon. The head of the makeup department came in. She liked what I did to her face so much she hired me to work here.”

              “Then you must really be somethin’. I’m lucky you’re workin’ on my picture then, Ms. Angel.”

              “Call me Angel.”

              A soft, gentle smile graced his lips once more, illuminating his face with a warmth that seemed to radiate from within. It was a smile that could make anyone melt, and I, too, succumbed to its irresistible charm. As the cart came to a halt, we found ourselves outside the grand, imposing stage gate. With a graceful leap, Elvis emerged from the vehicle, extending a hand to assist me in my own exit. I stood there, her heart pounding in my chest. The words of gratitude that had been on the tip of my tongue were left unspoken. The movie crew, like a swarm of bees, descended upon him, their eager hands guiding him towards the entrance.  Silently, I trailed behind, my eyes fixed on him as he came to a halt. He engaged in conversation with the main actress, the one who portrayed the female lead and served as Elvis's love interest in the film. She stood before him, a vision of beauty. Her face adorned with carefully applied makeup, enhancing her features and accentuating her natural charm. Her luscious blond locks cascaded in perfect curls, framing her face with an air of elegance. Clad in a swimsuit that showcased her long, slender legs, she left little to the imagination. As he flashed a warm smile in her direction, my heart skipped a beat, and a sudden realization washed over me like a crashing wave. It was a truth that had been lurking. Elvis only wanted to be kind because his golf buggy nearly ran into me. With my jet-black hair and eyes, the color of a moonlit sea, I was nowhere near attractive enough. My skin was too pale, and my clothing were simply thrift shop finds that suited me well. In the vast expanse of the universe, our souls resided on separate solar systems, as distant from each other as the stars that adorned the night sky. With a heavy sigh escaping my lips, I trudged forward, determined to locate the elusive makeup trailer.

Stay tuned for part 2!! Click HERE to view!

#austin butler #austin!elvis #austin!elvis imagine #austin!elvis fanfic #austin!elvis fanfiction #austin!elvis fluff #austin butler elvis #austin butler fic #austin butler fandom #austin butler fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis presley fluff #elvis presley fandom #elvis baz luhrmann #baz lurhman elvis #elvis 2022 #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic

[luminous-letters]

i thought that i followed you but aparently not (i do now)

I hope it's ok i request again, if youre busy feel free to ignore but maaan that Sebek where he doesnt realize he has a crush was soo good (and i finally know how to describe a fic like that), therefore is it posible the same trope but with Riddle? If so thanks

note: omg tysm for the follow 😳 and i hope you enjoy!

He does not have a crush on you.

Rule-breaker, disobedient, a rebel and sharp-tongued— Riddle has called you more names than that in his head. But he dare not speak any of them aloud, for it would be unbecoming of him and would go against his promise to turn a new leaf.

And promises, like rules, are sacred and shan't be broken. It is a philosophy he lives by.

But being lenient doesn't mean he would simply turn a blind eye to your mistakes and violations, that would go against everything that he's been taught. A casual remark, nothing too hurtful like before The Incident.

For example, he'd call you out on your improper posture or tell you off when you slouch. It would hurt your back if you continue to do so.

He would give you pointers on upcoming exams or activities, but not without a blunt remark. This topic is elementary, kindergarten-level even, it's appalling that you don't have the slightest grasp on the subject.

Or one time he caught you taking a bite out of Ace's cookie dough from the fridge, out of spite if he may add. Aren't you worried about catching unwanted microbes? Salmonella?

Though, looking past your hard-headedness and reluctance to abide by Heartslabyul's laws, you had a few good points.

You were quick to think like Ace, and silver-tongued like him as well. The only difference? You didn't let your talents go to waste, you didn't sit idly by but you improved and built upon it.

You'd often be seen scouring through Heartslabyul's generous assortment of encyclopedias and potionology books.

He admires someone who hones their skills, someone who rests not on their laurels and continue to improve. Such a person is worthy of his respect.

He would continuously deny any teasing or even subtle hints from his peers, namely Azul and Ace, especially Ace.

Again, he doesn't have a crush on you.

"Ah, Riddle, you seem to be in good spirits today," Azul remarked, glancing at the little folded note that was tucked between Riddle's notes.

"It seems that I now know why," he chuckled, "The Prefect seems to know how to pacif— ehem, to keep your temper at bay," the Octavinelle housewarden suppressed a laugh.

"I don't recall asking for your input Azul. If I were you, I'd be preparing for flight lessons right now instead of prying into personal affairs. Good luck, with your flight skills, a practice flight or two is necessary."

Azul looked offended, "How thoughtful of you."

And how could he forget Ace's teasing?

"Housewarden, you're smart and at the top of every class and all, but it looks like romance isn't your thing!" Ace said, slouching on one of the lounge sofas.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You can't hide how you look at the Prefect, especially not from me," Ace laughed, "You could say I'm an expert at sniffing out some pining peeps."

"Say, Deuce-y and I are one of the best wingmen here in campus! Ain't that right Deuce?" Ace called, "What? Oh, uh, yeah?" the freshman replied, looking puzzled. "Ace we didn't get Jack on a date, we made it worse—" "Shush!"

"We get you on a date with them, and in exchange—"

"No thank you," Riddle firmly said. "I'm confident with my skills already. I don't need any help, thank you very much."

"Worth a shot," Ace whispered.

"That reminds me, shouldn't you be preparing the garden for a croquet match by now?"

"Um....well, you see..."

"Go, NOW!"

"Yes, housewarden!"

He glanced at your most recent letter, smiling a bit. Then he caught himself.

He has a crush on you.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #gn!mc #gender neutral reader #twst oneshot #twst drabble #twst fluff #fluff #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #azul ashengrotto #ace trappola #deuce spade

[veronasunmademods]

Occult Children

There's... not really a lot for children in the Sims 4, occult or not. But nothing has bothered me more than the fact that even if you make an occult child, you won't see any effects of it until that child is a teenager. From my experience, anyway. So, a bit of an idea to how one might change that.

Spellcasters

Accidental magic. I'll say it again and again, Spellcaster children, toddlers, and infants should have accidental magic. Especially when they're experiencing big moods.

It could be any mood other than "fine" for a toddler and/or infant; turns objects into flowers when happy, bubbles when playful, makes an earthquake when angry, makes it rain when sad, etc. Not every time or that would impede gameplay and be annoying.

Children instead would do it only during the extreme emotions. Hysterical, mortified, enraged, scared. Sadness as well, but that one doesn't have an "extreme" version. They'd have pretty much the same as the toddlers and infants as what would happen.

Potions stations would level up the potion making skill. That, or they have their own mini cauldron. Or both. One of the potions would be turning the giant stuffed animal toy into a proper Sim if the friendship level is high enough.

A few simple spells available to them, with Mischief the most accessible seeing as kids as mischievous.

Bring back the hair dye prank, but make the child have to craft it at with their potions skill.

In tandem with a boarding school mod, a magical boarding school just for Spellcaster children. Maybe two. One so they can learn to hone their powers, and one to hide them.

Spellcaster parents gain the option to inform their partners they are a Spellcaster if the other parent is not. Or not reveal. It's not mandatory.

Also an option to automatically hide heritage or reveal heritage to children, in case all children are normal Sims. Can later reveal Spellcaster heritage as desired.

Sims raising Spellcaster children and not knowing about it because they were not told can have different reactions when they find out. Anger, fear, excitement.

Spellcasters or normie parents could send child Spellcasters to the boarding school to free them of their abilities if they're trying to hide it or simply can't stand the magic. (Inspired by a throwaway line in the Children of the Lamp series where djinn children were sometimes put through such rigorous education it basically killed their magic)

Child sized broom that's closer to a rocking horse because it can't be used for travel. It just goes in a circle and can do loop-de-loops and other small trick shots if the motor skill is high enough.

Candies like those ones from HP that make you sound like different animals.

Mermaids

Obviously, let them be mermaids.

For toddlers/infants make them stay in whatever form the birther had when going in labor. If starts giving birth while mermaid, toddler/infant is full mermaid and has to learn to take human form. If human, has to learn to take mermaid form.

If in mermaid form, there could be special items made for an underwater nursery for them. If a mod can't do it on its own, it would probably require cheats.

Like, think a large lilypad floating in the water for a newborn, giant shells for infants and toddlers.

Mostly just everything found here, The Expanded Mermaids from SpinningPlumbobs. I like it, it fits what I want but can't have because I can't use the computer. 😭

Just wanted to add my own two cents about younger than children.

Vampires

Full vampire children should age slow, just like their parents. Half vampire children can stay the same when it comes to aging.

A breastfeeding parent to a vampire baby should occasionally get bit and get moodlets about uncomfortable bleeding.

On that same note, while I hate Twilight, I think the pregnancy and vampire children thing would work well with the Sims. Weakness during pregnancy (Sims can't die while pregnant, but a general higher need for sleep, apathy, a dazed mood, puking, etc), craving for more raw meals, normie sims able to digest plasma without getting sick.

Child vampires can eat both regular food and plasma but start finding regular food unappealing.

Toddlers and infants can eat both as well, but tend towards regular food. But if they get a craving for plasma and they don't get it, they'll go bite anyone and everything, including family and pets.

If a child vampire has a high enough relationship with a normie child, the vampire can offer to turn the normie.

This turned vampire child does not age. Is stuck in the child state. Insatiable hunger, all the time.

Born child and under vampires don't die in the sun, but they'll get a nasty sunburn. Perhaps some rashes, like they're allergic to it. Turned children will die from sun exposure.

Turned children can only eat plasma.

Child sized coffins decorated with stickers, with colorful fabric and pretty wood designs. Open casket that's styled like a princess bed with a canopy.

Teething toys for infants that will occasionally burst and get them messy.

Plasma bags made to look like cute juice boxes.

A randomly chosen trait for how the vampire child comes across. Unsettling, enchanting, strange, etc.

Werewolves

Wolf form, wolf form, wolf form

Toddlers and infants can sleep in pet beds

Another situation where toddlers/infants/newborns are whatever the birther was at the time of birth. If in wolf form, they're born like a puppy. Switches uncontrollably human sometimes, but default is dog. Same for the reverse where the birther was in human form; human default, uncontrollable wolf.

Kids can dig holes with their hands in the backyard.

Can play with dog toys like dog.

Chase cats

Dogpile older Sims

Ability to chew on toys when not in wolf form

Excitement, playful, and embarrassment will turn children into their wolf forms

Can learn to control the wolf, but only that perk

Can "pack bond" with friends. Good things like raising skills, better moods, etc will be easier when packmates are around, but will feel distressed when they're not around for a while.

All of them could probably have the ability to "reveal or hide heritage" honestly.

#sims 4 mods #sims #sims 4 #sims 4 occult #sims 4 children #sims 4 toddlers #sims 4 infants

[investmentassistant]

How to learn to defend your opinion

Expressing and defending one's opinion is a vital skill in both personal and professional life. Whether you're engaging in a debate, negotiating with colleagues, or simply sharing your perspective in a conversation, the ability to articulate your viewpoint confidently and respectfully can greatly impact your relationships and influence. Here are some key strategies to help you master the art of asserting your opinion effectively:

Know your subject

Before expressing your opinion on any topic, ensure that you have a solid understanding of it. Research and gather relevant information to support your viewpoint. The more knowledgeable you are about the subject, the more credible and persuasive your argument will be.

Clarify your intentions

Be clear about why you're expressing your opinion. Are you seeking to persuade others, engage in a constructive discussion, or simply share your perspective? Understanding your intentions will help you tailor your approach accordingly and communicate more effectively.

Practice active listening

Effective communication is a two-way street. Listen attentively to others' viewpoints without interrupting or dismissing them. Acknowledge their perspectives and demonstrate empathy and understanding, even if you disagree. This not only fosters respectful dialogue but also encourages others to reciprocate the same level of respect.

Use assertive language

Choose your words carefully to convey your opinion assertively yet respectfully. Avoid language that is aggressive, passive, or confrontational. Instead, opt for phrases such as «I believe», «In my opinion», or «From my perspective» which assert your viewpoint without invalidating others'.

Provide evidence and examples

Support your opinion with evidence, facts, and real-life examples whenever possible. This adds credibility to your argument and helps others better understand your perspective. Be prepared to back up your assertions with concrete data or experiences.

Be open to feedback

Be open-minded and willing to consider alternative viewpoints. Constructive feedback can provide valuable insights and opportunities for growth. Even if you ultimately maintain your opinion, engaging with differing perspectives can enrich your understanding of the topic and strengthen your argument.

Stay calm and confident

Maintain composure and confidence when expressing your opinion, especially in challenging or contentious situations. Avoid becoming defensive or hostile, even if faced with opposition. A calm and confident demeanor not only enhances your credibility but also encourages others to engage with you constructively.

Choose the right time and place

Consider the context and environment before asserting your opinion. Choose appropriate moments and settings where your viewpoint is more likely to be heard and respected. Avoid discussing sensitive topics in heated or inappropriate situations where emotions may cloud judgment.

Practice assertiveness

Like any skill, assertiveness improves with practice. Take every opportunity to express your opinion respectfully and confidently, whether in casual conversations, meetings, or debates. The more you practice, the more natural and effortless it will become.

Be respectful

Above all, treat others with respect and dignity, regardless of differences in opinion. Avoid personal attacks or derogatory remarks, and focus on the substance of the discussion. Remember that everyone is entitled to their own opinions, and fostering a culture of mutual respect is essential for productive communication.

In conclusion, learning to assert your opinion effectively is a valuable skill that requires practice, patience, and empathy. By honing your communication abilities, remaining open to diverse perspectives, and advocating for your viewpoint with confidence and respect, you can become a more influential and persuasive communicator in all aspects of your life.

[terrence-silver]

Could we please have a scenario where Terry just keeps fvcking beloved when someone walks in on them

---

In moments like these, he truly missed Margaret Spencer.

Milos Dadok.

His old waiting staff from approximately thirty years ago back when he was still stationed at his Beverly Hills statement Mayan temple mansion overlooking Griffith Park in the heart of LA, because if Terry had a time machine and the ability to place you in it along with himself, push a button and go back three decades, he supposed he'd simply do this in front of them.

But as things were, the posse he flew in from Korea would have to do, seeing how there were perks to their ascetic levels of discipline and among others, it was the fact that they never minded when he fucked you in front of them, without concealing it, his leisure infinite. It was his house after all, his rules, his domain, his court --- they, his honored guests from afar, naturally. But, that didn't render his daily habits obsolete just because they were here. Quite the contrary. Their stoicism, it was a learned skill they honed all their lives --- no differently than he himself did. His Fist didn't flinch when faced with pain, hardship, training, blood or guts. Sex. At you sprawled out on the couch as he took you from behind while they mingled around, patrolling the premises, Sensei Min-Jun, Morozov and Odell acting his as his modern-day equivalent of a Praetorian guard; not that he needed one, but he enjoyed the prestige of living like an Emperor simply because he could. Fucking like an Emperor simply because he had you. Why should he stop for anyone in the world? Anything in the world? Terry would envy even the smallest patch of exposed of flesh on your skin in front of anyone else, but his Fist? They were more like extensions of him. His eyes, his fingers, his muscles. Them seeing you beneath him counted as much as not being seen at all. Such was the tutelage of Kim Sun Yung. They functioned like a unit, when need be. One being, especially in times of war.

These were such times. The times of extreme measures.

-"Sasong."- Sensei Hyan-Woo stands on attention, addressing him and approaching the sofa, honorifics on display, hands crossed behind his back, seemingly unfettered that you had your face dug into the fabric of the couch, body jiggling back and forth under Terry's rhythm, your fingers desperately gripping the material, your gasps wordless. -"Security on the premises could be reinforced. What do you want us to do about it?"- He asks and Terry wasn't concerned about security or anyone breaking in, focusing on the tender flesh of your ass facing him. The idea was ludicrous. He'd leave his door wide open if need be as an invitation to anyone who wanted to cross him. He was king here. He'd act the king. If Larusso, Lawrence or whoever else wanted to play tough, well then, so be it. Kings don't hide. That's why they're kings. -"Let them come to us. I want them to be able to."- Terry manages through gritted teeth and waves of pleasure, rutting back and forth, eyes pinned on the outlined of your naked back, grabbing either side of your bouncing hips. -"Fight us on our own territory."- He adds through a heated grunt, his hands reaching forward to tangle themselves in your hair. Hyan-Woo nods, firm faced and icy, turning to leave, accepting his orders and directions; his poker face borderline amusing. -"Understood, Sasong."- He says with a small bow, the door of the lobby shuts behind him. The moan you've been suppressing comes out tattered and broken once you're alone, impaled on his cock.

Terry hums in appreciation in return. Shy, were you? Even now?

Oh, thirty years ago.

Thirty years ago, if Margaret was still around, she'd merely push the bridge of her glasses on her eyes at the sight of this, give you and him a speculative glance and continue working, ignoring the debauchery going on right in front of her, ever the face of unflinching professionalism. Unfortunately, good, old Mrs. Spencer wasn't around anymore, rest her soul. But some things? Some things and some habits never had to change. They only had to take a different shape.

#terry silver #cobra kai #kk3 #tw; exhibitionism #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #the fist #old man terry #milos dadok #margaret spencer

[t0pitium]

Mastering the Art of Storytelling: 7 Essential Tips

Storytelling has been an integral part of human culture for centuries, allowing us to connect, inspire, and share experiences. Whether you're a writer, public speaker, or simply someone who loves to engage others with anecdotes, mastering the art of storytelling can leave a lasting impact on your audience. In this blog post, we'll explore seven essential tips to help you become a captivating storyteller and weave narratives that resonate with your listeners or readers.

1. Use Firsthand Experiences: The key to compelling storytelling lies in drawing inspiration from your own life experiences. Share personal challenges and triumphs, offering insights into how you overcame obstacles. By revealing your vulnerabilities, you create an authentic connection with your audience, making them more receptive to your message.

2. Evoke Emotional Involvement: Emotions are a powerful tool in storytelling. Weave feelings of joy, sorrow, and perseverance into your narratives, enabling your audience to connect with your story on a deeper level. When your listeners empathize and root for you, your storytelling becomes memorable and impactful.

3. Construct Clarity in Structure: A well-organized story is like a well-constructed building with a strong foundation. Create a clear structure with a beginning, middle, and end. Introduce the setting and characters, build up the conflict or challenge, and provide a satisfying resolution. This framework keeps your audience engaged and invested in your story from start to finish.

4. Embrace Anticipation: To add excitement and intrigue to your storytelling, incorporate anticipation. Set up expectations and then subvert them with unexpected plot twists or surprises. This keeps your audience on the edge of their seats, eager to see how the story unfolds.

5. Foster Relatability: While accomplishments are worth sharing, relatability is crucial in storytelling. Be open about your mistakes, vulnerabilities, and challenges. By sharing your humanity, you create a genuine connection with your audience, allowing them to see themselves reflected in your experiences.

6. Enrich with Vivid Details: Paint a vivid picture with specific and sensory-rich details. Describe scenes, characters, and events in a way that makes your story come alive in your listeners' minds. This attention to detail not only makes your content more memorable but also enhances its authenticity.

7. Continuous Improvement: Storytelling is a skill that can be honed over time. Continuously refine your content, eliminating unnecessary elements, and staying focused on the core message. Every word should serve a purpose, guiding your audience through an emotional journey.

By incorporating these seven essential tips into your storytelling repertoire, you can become a master storyteller, captivating your audience with every word. Remember to draw from your own experiences, evoke emotions, construct a clear structure, embrace anticipation, foster relatability, enrich with vivid details, and continuously improve. With dedication and practice, your storytelling abilities will soar, leaving a lasting impression on everyone who listens or reads your stories.

#writing #tips #writing tips #writerscommunity

[channajen]

Chapter 5 is Live!

Chapter 5 of “Batman, Meet Team Phantom” is LIVE on a03!

Chapter one is HERE; Series Link is HERE; Story One is HERE

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: In which Batman and Jasmine have a long talk, and Batman discovers quite a bit of information that he did not previously know about Amity Park, ghosts, and about certain people's feelings...

Teaser: After briefly outlining the situation to Oracle, Batman decided it was time to talk to Jasmine. He needed more personalized information to add to what he was going to present to the League. He quietly entered into the Medbay, walked over to the corner of the room, and simply took time to watch the two siblings as they slept. Jasmine woke within a minute of his arrival, and almost instantly zeroed in on his location. Bruce raised an eyebrow. These kids must have a highly honed sense of danger to be so hyper-aware of their surroundings. He thought.

Jazz stared at the Bat in the corner for a long moment before acknowledging him with a nod. He mirrored her movement, while walking to her bedside. “Do you think you could spare a few minutes of your time? I am putting a presentation together for the League before we send a retrieval team for the Fenton adults. I would really appreciate your input.”

The young woman’s eyes got hard. “Oh, I have the time, Batman. Just give me a minute to grab my bag. I’ve got something in there for you.”

Curious, the Bat watched the girl move silently around the medical area. Her steps were as quiet as any one of his children’s. Whoever trained her should be proud. He couldn’t help but wonder how she had developed such skills—even in a highly infested town like Amity Park, those types of skills weren’t going to come naturally. Someone had trained her, and done it well. He secretly hoped it hadn’t been Madeline Fenton.

It only took Jazz a couple of minutes to gather the things she thought were important. Batman curiously noted that she held a Bat-communicator in her hand like it was a life-line. He realized with a shock that it was a literal life-line for the girl and her brother. Had Jason not given it to her, Danny would have died long before they made it to Gotham. That realization shook the nearly unflappable Bat. No more children were going to die on his watch if he could prevent it. He motioned for Jasmine to follow him to a consultation room just outside of the main medical bay, where there was a window that would allow her to keep an eye on her brother while they talked. He guessed correctly that it would help put the young woman more at ease and enable her to talk more freely without as much worry...

....The Bat looked at the drive in his hand. “I’m going to give this to the people I trust and see what they can do with the production of the deflectors. They have worked with alien technology, so human tech shouldn’t be that difficult to reproduce.”

Jazz’s chuckle echoed in the room, surprising Bruce. “I don’t know how well experience with ‘alien technology’ will transfer to ‘ecto-technology’, but if they fail, or need guidance, Danny can build everything on that drive.

That took Batman by surprise. “Your brother is a hunted ghost, a protector of an entire town, and an also an engineer?” He had seen the boy’s grades. He knew that they were impacted by ghost fighting, but for him to have engineering skills on-par with or better than his parents was incredible. Although, once Bruce thought about it, the only way the boy could have handled everything he did and stay in school with any kind of passing grades at all would require an extremely high intelligence. It did make sense. Although he did wonder what other secrets the teen carried. The Bat gave a mental shrug and moved on.

“I’ll get clearance for the Red Hood to come to the Watchtower. He can bring up whatever devices and supplies you need.” He didn’t quite expect the blinding smile that lit up Jasmine’s face.

“Jason’s coming?” Batman sighed. “Please keep our civilian names to yourself. Very few people here know our real identities.”

Jazz looked horrified. “Oh no! I am so sorry! Nobody’s listening, are they??”

Bruce sent Jasmine a small smile. “No one listens in on Batman.” He held up a small device on his belt. “An audio scrambler. I keep it on me at all times. You’ll need to be careful to refer to Jason as ‘Hood’ or “Red Hood’ when he is here, though.” The young woman’s face fell. Bruce felt a weird sense of guilt in his gut; it caused him to make an offer he wouldn’t usually make. “I’ll let you two catch up in my office, where you can talk privately. I’ll disable internal sensors and cameras in that section so no one can connect you two in anything other than a ‘professional’ manner.” His lips slipped into a small smirk at the blush on her face.

“That would be…really kind of you, Batman.” Jazz looked down and put her face in her hands. She looked back up after a long moment with a smile on her face. “Thank you, sir.” Her blush was less noticeable, but still there.

***Read the whole chapter on A03***

#danny phantom #batman #jason todd #dp x dc #wayne family adventures #ghost king danny #justice league #jazz fenton #anger management - relationship

[48787]

I go on tumblr so I can look at one single post for upwards of 5 hours to make tags 3 people will read and yet I still am in full belief that I am getting more out of this than I ever did out of any of the college courses I took to pursue a "career" I am no longer simply surviving, but I have managed to realize and now actualize the skills I actually wanted to hone for my entire life and while I am not applying those skills to anything that far reaching just yet, the fact that I feel compelled to apply them anywhere at all is what matters. Once I figure out how to work sleep into this equation world domination is inevitable. I wish I had the ability to do research into reducing the amount of sleep needed for the human body, perhaps eliminating the need entirely so it becomes something only done when rest is truly needed, however I would only have the ability to do said research once I figure out how to cast curses and hexes so I can add a "This can never be used to increase the monetary value of any party ever at all for ever and ever amen" clause that makes anyone who even considers using it to schedule more hours for less pay head explode. It also makes anyone who schedules themself for more hours for the same amount of pay would probably also have their head explode too I think? Maybe if they schedule themself for more hours but for more pay, and at the larger expense of the company's income, they'd be fine? Maybe you could make your boss' head explode by asking for more hours, it's technically their decision... Hmm.. I think I should probably think about the fine print on that, the angelic "Just dont do it lol" way of doing things only really works when you're trying to be vague or ambiguous for a reason... Lucifer might have some pointers, but I hear he's pretty busy. Maybe he can recommend an agent or lawyer? Maybe im so bad at going to sleep because i need to figure out how to make sleep more in line with my weird ambitions.... If the lucid dreaming stuff if real, I suppose I could use it as a time to flesh out very hazy and rough mental concept art.... Eeh... I don't really like putting much stock in dreams... I suppose it's mostly an agency thing, maybe lucidity is what might fix that? Maybe I could more directly confront the world building concepts in my dreams, not in a "What does this mean for my subconscious" kinda way because fuck that, but in a, like, "Oooo you are in a spooky maze" "What is the maze made of?" "Uh... I don't know... stone?" "Like rough stone, cut stone, marble?" "Mmmarble... Yeah.. M--" "Who built the maze?" "Just do the fucking maze, this is supposed to be scary" "Surely someone built the maze, surely they had a reason for building the maze. I can't even know why I'd want to escape the maze until I learn why I'm in it or what's outside it. You have to answer my questions or I'll wake up right fucking now." kinda way. It should be fine to make those threats to myself? I don't think I'd take it super personally, I think I'd get it. I'd probably want to do the world building for myself anyway. I do wish I didn't have to sleep though. I wish I could just think of a good enough concept for a story about not needing to sleep that I'll reach some hidden truth and be able to make the concept work for real... Maybe I'll inspire someone to invent to torment nexus for me!! Man-made horrors of my comprehension!!! I think I'd be honored...

#sleepy time posting

[mr-voorhees-husband]

Okay, like imagine if you will (Jackson Brice ramble)

Chameleon’s apprentice is a shy individual, constantly changing their look not only to hone their skill but also to watch their crush; Shocker! At a distance.

Shocker 100% knows this, and surprises her one day by calling her out (or asking her out, whichever lol)

Hey, with all due respect, this is a genderneutral and male reader blog! I understand if it was an accident, but please don't talk about a reader in a fem way!

Warnings/tags: implied yandere, Stalking, teasing, age gap, fluff, open ended

Reader: Gender neutral, stalker, implied yandere, nervous/anxious, implied self-insecurity

He's was so handsome. You kept your head down, headphones in your ears as you did your best to avoid grabbing his attention. Montana, aka, Jackson Brice. The leader of the enforcers, and a good friend of your ex-coworker, Quentin Beck. Beck was how you met Montana, unsurprisingly. He'd always insist on playing match maker, so when you let out a passing comment on how you found the shocker hot, Quentin insisted on letting the two of you meet.

Despite being the Chameleon's sidekick, it wasn't rare to help Quentin with his robots. You'd help make Chameleon's costumes, it made sense you could sculpt a robot to be an exact replica. It also meant you'd occasionly use desguises for recon missions, or times when Chameleon was gone and you had to keep appearances up.

In all honesty, it'd been an accident when you first saw Montana out of work. He'd been out an about, with the enforcers. They'd recently been let out on good behavior, and had yet to have a warrent placed over their heads, so they were soaking it up while they could. Your disguise was fairly good, at least, you were pretty damn proud of it. It was.. interesting to see Montana is a more laid back environment. Talking and joking with his companions in a way you hadn't seen before.

You hadn't meant to stalk him really, you'd just wanted to see more of this side of him. Luckily, you were good at your job, the only one noticing you staring being Ox, who simply glared for a moment before joining back in the conversation. That day was spent silently trailing them, being careful to not make it obvious, watching from afar, until they left the more populated areas, and you did the same. Chameleon had been a bit upset over your tardiness, but you told him you were trying to get blackmail on the Sinister Eleven, which he smiled and praised you for.

It was supposed to be a one time thing. Yet you kept doing it, different disguises each time. A punk, a hippie, a college kid, anything you could think of. Different hair, using heels to add height, you really had earned the title of being Chameleon's sidekick. You were almost better than he was.

Today was a jugallo, or at least, a jugallo based outift. The mask was the whole nine yards, a death hawk, painted face, and an eye color that was opposite to your own. The perfect disguise to spy on Montana while he, Ox, and Ricochet went to the music festival being held in central park. It was wrong, you understood that, but it was all for him, so, what was the worse thing that could happen?

Your eyea flickered around the incredibly crowded festivel. Trying to at least find Ox in the massive collection of people. Someone hitting your chest made you yelp, loosing your footing and falling straight into someone's arms.

Montana looked down at you, obviously a bit surprised, but far from upset. With a grin, he helped you back on your feet while you apologized profusely.

"Aw, don't worry kid," his eyes glinted with some sort of knowing look, "you're just falling for me the second time, ain't ya, [V/N]?"

Oh.

Oh no.

#tssm #the spectacular spider man #jackson brice #shocker #tssm montana #montana #x reader #jackson brice x reader #montana x reader

[dreamborne--db]

Harlequinade: Chapter 1

A piece of foolish or silly behaviour.

Midari’s stupid choice(again) causes Sayaka and Mary to turn into toddlers.

The Momobami twins have to take care of them and they’re not very good at it.

They seek help from many people.

Terano finds herself having to babysit to children. One who cries too much and one who bites people too much.

Midari struggles to find a cure.

*****

“Ew! What is that?” Yuriko gagged, staring suspiciously at the two test tubes her partner was holding.

Once again, the masochist was up to no good.

“Relax! Uhehe…” Midari cackled. “I’m just playing a small prank! It’s for the twins! It’s gonna give them big ears, small eyes, three more legs and cause them to lose all their fur and hair!”

“What?! Are you crazy? No! I’m not letting you! We’re going to get killed! You always get caught!”

“Nonsense, I’ve become a master after years of experience honing my skills,” the werewolf said dismissively. She licked her lips as she dumped the contents of the respective test tubes into two separate wine glasses that were already filled with Whimsical Nightfall.

“Look how it just disappears completely into the drink!” Midari exclaimed in delight. “Oh man, I can’t wait to see Sayaka freak out when her beloved starts to shed and bald!”

Yuriko rolled her eyes as Midari proceeded to cackle and dance around the gigantic dining hall while wearing a paper crown on her head.

”I’m the King! Hohoho!”

This wasn’t going to go well.

*****

“What a feast!” Yumeko giggled at the smorgasbord of tantalising delicacies on the luxurious table.

“Oh! Today’s drink is Whimsical Nightfall!” Sayaka gasped in excitement.

“Mhm,” Kirari chuckled as she wrapped her tails around her human wife, who blushed at this. Carrying her wife in her arms, she sat her down on her lap, nuzzling her neck with a soft purr.

“Geez, can’t you guys live a day without flirting?” Mary grumbled as everyone else took their respective seats. She went quiet, however, as Ririka pecked her on the cheek.

A while later and everyone was digging into the food. As usual, Kaede was lonely, Midari was rowdy and quarreling with Mary, and Kirari and Sayaka were being annoyingly affectionate with each other.

Kiraris left eye glowed and she let out a low soothing growl, tightening her grip on her wife and kissing the top of her head. Her Kitsune side simply loved Sayaka too much and took every chance to show her love for her.

The glow disappeared shortly after and the Kitsune Queen offered her wife her drink.

Midari paused at this sight, paling instantly. ‘Shit! I forgot those two like to exchange drinks just for the fun of it!’

Beside her, Yuriko started to tremble and she grabbed Midari’s hand in terror, her Kitsune ears flattening against her head in fear.

As Sayaka raised the glass to her lips, Midari slammed her hands on the table, startling everyone and stalling her friend’s hand.

“What is it now? You lost your revolver?” Yumemi groaned.

“I think Kirari and Sayaka shouldn’t switch drinks, we’ve had enough PDA today,” Midari said hurriedly.

“But you like them to be affectionate so you can add pictures to your Kirasaya album,” Ririka said, frowning.

“Nyahaha!” Runa cackled. “A little bit suspicious, aren’t we?”

“That plant looks like Itsuki,” Kaede sighed. “Oh why did she leave me for that Russian fiend?”

“You are acting suspicious,” Yumemi noted, narrowing her eyes at the werewolf.

“Is something else wrong, Ikishina? Are you alright?” Saori asked worriedly.

Mary rolled her eyes as she took Ririka’s drink.

“I don’t see the problem. What, is it illegal to drink your partner’s drink? Don’t you know food tastes better when it belongs to other people? Don’t fuck with us!”

And with that, she downed the drink in one gulp.

At the same time, Sayaka also ignored Midari after hearing Mary’s comment and also downed the drink in one mouthful.

“What the hell! Why would you two——” Midari shouted.

“Hey, I feel a little strange,” Mary said, gasping as her voice turned high-pitched at the last word of her sentence.

Sayaka nodded in agreement. “It feels… ab…abnor…” She frowned. “I can’t piece the word together, which is strange considering that it is an extremely easy word to say——” She let out a squeak as she began to shrink, her clothes shrinking with her.

Mary cursed as the same thing happened to her.

“What the—that’s not supposed to…” Midari mumbled.

With a “poof!” and a cloud of mist, Mary and Sayaka had transformed into toddlers.

Everyone else turned to look at Midari, who could only think of two words.

“Oh fuck.”

#kirasaya #kakegurui #kirari momobami #anime #sayaka igarashi #ririka momobami #mary saotome #midari ikishima #kakegurui kirari #fanfic #momobamikirari #sachiko #yumemi yumemite #itsuki sumeragi #yumeko jabami #ryota suzui #fluff #attempt at humor

[2n2n]

have you ever considered that sometimes in your analyses on jshk and stuff you point out very true and correct things but neither aida nor iro might have ever thought of those parallels. like you know how sometimes as a creator you choose to make those connections and metaphors but other times it just happens subsconsiously? man.

I DO wonder, I doubt it's all so intentional or that these characters are necessarily shots at the same themes ............ it feels so pathological. it feels like the philosophical BONES are just naturally the same. More or less a set of internal 'rules'. maybe... which results in similar stories, even unintentionally!

There are so many writers or directors, I'm a fan of their work over many years, but typically I'll see their work sorta clumsily struggle to find its thematic footing...... Iro's heart is like... "I know what I want" somehow..... I have no idea how much it even must be thought about.... does it just happen?? can only write so many types of guys...... !

a lot of shounen you can feel the sense of simply 'filling in slots' in the cast with archetypes, wildly variable, little in common, aesthetics in all directions.... in shounen ensembles of villains and heroes you won't find a lot of through lines or anything.... I'm so used to looking & looking & turning up empty.

Aida & Iro are at least self-aware of things like .... always writing stories containing at least 1 shota, liking yandere, liking tsundere, and joke around about this back on their old blog... very "yep, I'm doing this again"....... I'm sure Iro walks into every other story cracking knuckles like, "and how will I convey this one's yandere?"...... Iro's self-aware of only being able to write misery too, and has a sort of... guidelines about what 'makes' a yandere..........

ところでヤンデレキャラって、強いか頭良くないと成り立たない気がするのですが、その両方に当てはまらないレントはヤンデレが出来ないって事になりますね。 押し倒そうにも力が無い。陥れようにも頭脳が無い。 ああ……。ヤンデレたら頭脳指数も上がるんでしょうか。語彙が増えそう、とは良く言われます。

From an entry here. I believe the image was Rudolph taking off Lent's goggles, wondering if there's a change in personality.... also, Iro is using this nasty word.... get a load of those connotations in action.

'By the way, I think a yandere has to be both strong and smart enough to accomplish anything, and Lent can't meet these requirements. He can't be a yandere. If he wants to push her down, he doesn't have the strength to. Not smart enough to make her to fall either [i.e. by trickery].

aah….. I wonder if I'd be smarter if I were to ascend to yandere. I'm sure my vocabulary skill would increase.'

.....I think having Aida there probably helps Iro be more self-aware or thoughtful 'cuz she has commentary to add? All their little conversations about "what if this, what if that, would this character do this?" feel like honing/sharpening Iro's definitions, or challenging them..... for all the rambles, it's all so consistent with the modern-day.... it's scary....

Really, they feel so self-aware so early on.

#avvy's JSHK