#which is like.... a real height of productivity for me

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 10: An Unfamiliar World

Summary: Nyra is one of the older Archeron sisters. Twin to Nesta. Plagued by a mysterious illness that her mortal body cannot endure for too long. And yet, it seems her curse is to see her family suffer. When the youngest of her sisters is whisked away into the land of fae, immortality soon follows for the rest of them. And as an immortal, there is more to her that she has yet to know. 

Chapter Summary: Nyra tries to recall her memories from the Cauldron which includes the silhouettes of unfamiliar people. Rhys's sister makes an appearance. Nyra confronts Nesta. Shadows are supportive little darlings.

A/N: I am immensely thankful to @stormhearty. Your friendship is something precious for the real me who is a slightly crazy woman who loves food and fictional men. Thank you for helping me with this chapter. I will continue to fangirl over characters from books and manhwa with you.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

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Nyra's POV

Approximately an hour was left for dinner. I was still sitting by the window in Elain's bedroom. Nesta was sitting on the armchair across me and the occupant of the room was still unconscious.

None of us were talking but I could hear the Cauldron cry as if it was in the same room. Its cries and pleas which I did not want to hear. Not after what it did to my sisters. I closed my eyes and remembered it.

It was cold and lonely in this place. The sensation on my body made it seem like I was floating. And then there was a rip. Pain shot through me. Pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I could not move. Could not open my eyes to see what was going on. It started from my head, from between the eyes. And then it was there, on my chest. I felt like something was being taken from me and that my body was desperately clinging on to it.

It was exhausting. I don’t even know if I was crying. And then pain vanished. I was someplace warm now. I opened my eyes and saw the darkness around me. I was a silhouette of light. Underneath me, a body floated. My body. My weak, mortal body. I was still connected to it. A single glowing string continued to connect me.

And then there were whispers behind me. I turned around and saw other silhouettes. There were many. Each of them were standing at a different distances from me. All of them with glowing eyes. They were different in appearance—different heights, build, sex, skin colour, hair colour, clothing and so much and yet, the only thing that was common was the glowing eyes. I noticed that only one of them did not have glowing eyes. In fact, her eyes were closed. She was the one standing closest to me. A young girl with large bat-like wings.

My entire being felt a pull. I looked around trying to identify the source. It was that string connecting me to my body that floated in the abyss. I looked behind at the figures and found them facing me. Even the young girl with closed eyes. Everyone except the girl lifted their hands and a string flowed out from their palms towards me. With a bundle of strings in my hands, I let them go. The strings floated around me. I waved my hands and with knowledge I did not know I possessed, I manipulated the strings.

They weaved themselves under my guidance into something. A string from my own palm emerged and joined the creation. Whatever that was finally created, came to rest in my arms and I held it. I looked at the body below me and dropped the thing on it.

I had created a body which was merging with the mortal one that floated. The golden body and my own body were merging. I felt more strings from those behind me and I pushed them towards the merging bodies. Something happened. It seemed to help with the merger. And the final product was complete. I looked behind at the figures and they were looking at me, not with glowing eyes but with their own eyes. Approval, happiness, determination, pride—many emotions floated in their eyes. All of them giving me the nod to do something.

I looked at the girl whose eyes were still closed but this time, her lips were parted. And her young voice spoke. “You were poisoned.” I froze.

Another voice from behind her spoke. “You fought well.” It was a woman—tall and larger than women. Easily six feet.

The girl spoke again, her voice pained. “He has been waiting for so long.” And her hand darted forward to push me towards the new body that had been created.

Something stopped me from reaching my body. Some creatures. Many creatures of different shapes and sizes. They were blocking my path. I had to go. The pull was getting stronger. I closed my eyes and the next thing I knew, I was moving—fighting. Like a warrior with practised ease and strength, I was destroying the demons surrounding me.

A familiar presence was nearby. I looked around and felt the gaze of a predator. A familiar presence. I walked closer and identified that to be the one whom I shared a womb in this life. A sibling. What was their name? Was it a girl or a boy? Either way, they shouldn’t be in this place. I raised my hand when I got close enough and pushed them away. Their presence completely vanished and I was left alone with the figures around me.

My fight continued. I won. I walked over to the body waiting for me like a vessel to fill it. A pained cry caught my attention.

“Please.” It begged. And some stupid part of me walked over and helped it. It was wounded and I healed it. “I am forever in your debt.” We talked a lot and then I walked back and felt my essence enter the body.

Once I had entered the body, I looked around. There was no light, no screams, nothing. Just pure darkness. I lifted my hands and checked them. I was glowing. Energy crackled around me. Something glowed from above me. I looked up and saw a bright thread, the only source of light in this darkness. An identical thread sprouted from my chest and ascended to meet it. I watched as the two thread merge into one, as though they were never separated. And then something grabbed my wrists. It coiled around them like a rope and pulled me upwards.

The next thing I knew, I was exiting the Cauldron. People around me were screaming my name. What was it? I could not even see anything clearly. Wisps of darkness and water blurred my vision to the maximum. Something cool and comfortable was all over me. Some energy. It helped me walk and led me to the source of the shining thread. And then they laid me down and I fell a wave of comfort and relief. And I fell asleep.

There was much more to all of this than what I could comprehend right now. That girl and all the figures lined up behind her. This silence in Elain’s bedroom was too loud. I wanted to scream and run and vomit and do so much, all at the same time. The beast within me was my own self. My real self. My power. At present, she was tame; like a cat curled up for a nap. But the cat was starting to get irritated. It was on the verge of transforming into another feline creature of greater size and power should it be provoked for too long. The only thing calming my inner self was the night sky. The stars were a calming sight.

But why did I feel like this? Like a part of me was absent. And the emptiness was seeping into the rest of me. A desperate feeling of yearning was there. For what? For who? Why? To be yearning so much to the point where it was starting to frustrate me—whose absence was affecting me so? I knew it wasn't father. I did not interact with the man who had been so absent from our lives. During our childhood when we were wealthy, it was a physical absence. During our teenage years when we were poor, it was an emotional absence. When Feyre was taken and we mysteriously became rich, the physical and emotional absence became far too much that I did not bother. We talked only when it was required. With him entrusting the keys of the house to me because he was too afraid to face Nesta, who was the healthier twin.

Was it for Feyre, who had been taken from us only to return as a completely different person? I did not even recognise the girl who came back the first time. A girl with life breathed into her only to tell us about the man she fell in love with. She left to save him. And then she returned as a fae. A broken shell of the woman she had become previously. Her subsequent visits showed improvement but I did not recognise her even then. She was no longer the woman who was our sister. She was free and powerful and independent and that was good for her but my sister had died and a new woman had taken her place. Feyre was no longer our sister in many aspects. And yet she was. But I had this powerful feeling that she would not have come to us after becoming fae if it weren't for the mortal queens and the Book of Breathings.

From what Nesta told me, Elain had begged not to be drowned in the Cauldron and yet she had been the first one to be Made. The woman who went in crying and the woman who returned were two different beings. And now, she was lifeless. The only semblance of who she was could be found in the open curtains. I looked at the sleeping sister. She was pale and thin and the bones of her hand, cheek and neck were too prominent.

Nesta, who had kicked and screamed, before being thrown into the Cauldron. How did she emerge? She hadn’t told me anything. But the woman who was sitting in front of me was withdrawn. She was no longer the panther who waited in the dark before striking. She was a cat who had retired to sleep. Nesta’s claws were no longer sharp.

Then for whom was I feeling so much? This burning sensation. I think I would've cried if I hadn't averted my eyes to look at the sea. Even in the darkness, I could identify where it was after having looked at for so long during the day. So much love, it made me feel like I was bundled up in a velvety blanket. But the other emotions made me feel like the blanket would be ripped away from my body and I would have to wake up to a horrible world.

Nesta's movement began to distract me from my own inner turmoil. She had stood up, walked towards the door, opened it and peeped outside to see if anyone was there and then closed it again. She came back but did not sit down. "We ought to get ready for dinner."

"I suppose we should." I stood up and then looked at Elain. We did not speak because we did not know what to speak of. We walked over to the door connecting Elain's room with Nesta's and entered and closed the door behind us.

"Your room is ahead." Nesta pointed towards the door straight ahead.

"What do you feel about all of this?" I turned to the window. I knew that Nesta required space before she could answer difficult questions. Not looking at her meant that she would feel less pressurised and that she would have more clarity of thought.

Nesta looked outside the window. "We are in an unfamiliar world. I do not mind it much. I do not have a marriage waiting for me. But…"

"You worry for father?" I wanted to know what she felt for him. She did not despise him as much as she tried to pretend. And she would always leave the room whenever I tried to confront her about it, knowing my sick body couldn't follow her. But now I could. And it seemed like she was realising that bit too.

Nesta scoffed. "The man could barely pick himself up even when Feyre went out to hunt. You were sick. We needed the money for your medicines."

"What about you and Elain? What were the two of you doing?" This was it. This was everything. Our lives had revolved around this for so long. Feyre had continuously begged me not to confront Nesta or Elain about this and I truly found her foolish for that. Her kindness had been extended to undeserving people.

"We could never send Elain out. She…"

"Then what about you?" I asked softly. I did not have the patience to shout at her and she was no longer poised to strike. So would she answer me? "Feyre was just a child."

"I know you would've gone out." Nesta's voice was a mere whisper. "You would've done anything and everything for all of us. You're like Feyre in that aspect."

"I think I would have." I spoke. The salty scent of her tears spread around the room. "Do not try to deflect, Nesta."

I knew how much Nesta hated that cottage. That bed where mother had birthed us and died. Everything around us was a reminder of the weakness we carried within ourselves.

"And that trait of yours made you push me out of the Cauldron." Nesta looked at me, vision blurred by tears.

"What were you doing, Nesta?" I had to be more firm with her. I was rarely firm with any of them. That had costed us too much. And whenever I was, I snapped too badly.

"I was scared!" Nesta's voice rose.

"Scared of the world and in that house, only our father knew how to navigate through it." I added and hummed. "He disappointed you, didn't he? When he did not go out to find work and instead remained… hopelessly hopeful for a miracle." I moved towards the door Nesta had pointed at, the one that would lead to me bedroom and stood by the door. The door knob was a beautiful piece of wood, simple and shaped. "Our mother's lessons never included any survival skills but our father's travels did."

I remembered how Feyre had snuck into our father's office to see the maps and the trinkets he brought back from his travels. How father sat her on his lap and told her stories of the world outside. Nesta was staunchly against that. I simply smiled and encouraged Feyre to listen to father's stories. He would tell her about the different people, cultures, cuisines and adventures he had. And eventually those stories shaped Feyre into becoming the one to step outside their home to be the breadwinner.

"And even now, you love him."

"That's ridiculous." Nesta sneered.

"Why?"

"Because I am my mother's daughter."

"All of us are."

"I am more of her than any of you ever was."

"And what are we?"

"Not hers." Nesta did not say anything more but I understood that this was a partition that would remain in her mind. That Nesta would forever see herself as someone apart from her sisters.

"Is that why you never stepped out? Because our mother would've deemed it beneath her to toil for the family? And you're her daughter?" The words escaped me before I could filter them. I saw Nesta flinch. I knew I had struck well when she reacted and I did not like this. I did not like this conversation. Did not like that she was like this. Nesta would've done anything and everything for Elain and I but for Feyre, what was it?

I remembered all the times when we were young and Feyre used to look up to us. I spun my history lessons into stories and told my own version of it to put the younger ones to sleep while Nesta silently watched even though she pretended to be uninterested. Stories of kings and queens, princes and princesses and adventurers and treasure hoarders. Mythologies were the easiest to tell her.

Feyre learned words easily as she listened to my stories and Nesta's advanced speaking. Maybe that's why mother never realised she did not know how to write and read. And for a long time, I did not. Not until mother had passed. Feyre was friends with Elain in a way she never was with me. Friends who would run around the house together, paint together, garden together. To her I was an older sister, but Elain was a friend more than a sister. But Nesta?

For so long, I'd seen her hopefully look at Nesta for the love and companionship she received from us. She did pick up the fierceness from her but she never knew how to wield it. She learned it all on her own and while I was proud of her for being able to do everything on her own, why was she? Why was she the only one providing for us in a house with two more healthy women? Why was she the only one who could do anything and be useful in a house with two capable women?

I'd fed her false hopes during our childhood that Nesta would come around but I believed them to be true. I'd seen how Feyre, fascinated with the first set of paints, had created something and gift it to Nesta. The first of her creations was a gift to someone who simply took it, said her thanks and retired to her room impassively. Feyre did not know what it was called but she saw Nesta using something to mark the book from where she paused; a bookmark.

I saw Nesta keep that bookmark for years, not even allowing me to touch it. Elain did not know where that bookmark was from. The same went for her drawings. Every little scribble, Nesta kept them guarded in her drawers and never told Feyre. She never scolded Feyre for continuing to draw even when we had limited paper after losing our riches. She simply kept them when Feyre thought they were being burned to feed the fire in the cottage. Nesta was a woman of actions and words so why did she not act?

"We are our own person before we were her daughters." I twisted the doorknob to open the door to my room. The luxurious space greeted me with nothing but unfamiliarity. This was not home. "And you are no longer hers. No longer her daughter. I hope you come to accept it someday." I took a step but my other leg remained where it was. "You must apologise to Feyre for not stepping up. The both of you need to move past that."

I let the door slam behind me and began pacing the room. The fact remained that Nesta and Elain did nothing while father and I were physically incapable of going out. Feyre was the only one who did it. And I did not know why I kept defending both of them in my head. I removed the hair tie and enjoyed the feeling of my hair being free.

What did it mean to be an elder sibling? To step in for the younger ones? If that was the case, Nesta and I had done that many times before mother died. Things changed after that. Even then, I'd seen Nesta actively step in for Elain and in my sickness, for me but Feyre was someone she left behind.

I opened the closet wondering whether I needed to dress for the dinner or whether this gown would be appropriate enough. A silk gown of midnight blue grabbed my attention. I took it from where it hung and admired how it was more soft than the one I currently wore. I closed the door of the wardrobe and took the dress with me to the bathing chamber.

The bathtub sat there like the king in his kingdom. I looked away from it and stared at the mirror in front of me. A woman with incomparable beauty stared back but she was so confused. What good was flawless hair and skin and body when I could no longer identify myself? The woman in the mirror was an unfamiliar face. I was never this beautiful, never this healthy. This was definitely someone else.

This is not home. I wanted to cry at that.

The Cauldron had demanded far too much from me. It had exhausted me before I could leave its clutches. I felt it all over my body and I knew I was close to hyperventilating. I'll never return home. And all that pain. I would have died and yet, here I was.

What was the point of snapping at Nesta? We were here, no longer human. We could never return. And what was there for us in the land of the fae? There is nothing. This is not home. My home with my sisters and father. And when I inadvertently looked in the direction of the bathtub, I saw the Cauldron—black and cruel. I screamed in my head at myself to run away. But my legs, why weren't they moving? The Cauldron seemed to nearing me and I wanted to vanish into the shadows.

And as if my prayers were answered, the shadows emerged from behind like the waves of an ocean. I saw their reflection in the mirror and I crumbled as they embraced me and took me away. It was cold and calm. Only the wind remained for me to hear. I could not process anything but my own cries and tears. Where's my home? I screamed into the shadows and wailed. Tears had blurred my vision but I could see enough to identify that I was someplace dark. I sat down on the cold floor with my knees to my chest.

Home was Nesta's stubbornness, my father's hopes for tomorrow, Elain's smiles and Feyre's wildness. But I was somewhere where I could recognise none of my sisters. My stubborn sister had left everything to the youngest, who in turn lost a part of herself. My happy sister no longer smiled. And what was I?

I don’t know how long I was crying but a hand grabbed my shoulder. It was the only source of warmth. It was a large hand and I looked back. There was no one. I could not see the hand on my shoulder but I could definitely feel it. It was still there. And the shadows retreated and I was on the bathroom floor with a worried Nesta in front of me. She saw me and was saying something. She hugged me and rocked me and I closed my eyes. It was when I could hear my surroundings that I dared to open my eyes. Nesta was crying as she held me.

I moved my hand, took her elbow and tried to remove it away from me. It was a heavy arm and my movement made her release me from my embrace to look at me. Her tears were flowing and she looked so worried. “Are you alright?” She grabbed my cheeks and inspected me. “Did something happen? Talk to me, dear.”

Nesta was never affectionate unless she was worried. And that she definitely was at the moment. “I’m fine.” I whispered.

I escaped her embrace and stood up. I had yet to wash my face and I did just that. I kept on gathering cold water in my hands and splashing it on my face until I felt content. I looked up at the mirror and saw someone who I was starting to recognise. Me. The broken me. I took the towel hanging nearby and dabbed my face with it. I had to change clothes. As I was removing my clothes, I heard her call my name.

"Come to me after you've spoken to Feyre." Nesta knew what I was talking about. I wore the midnight blue gown which exposed my neckline and clung loosely to my figure. My hair was in a bun but with a few stray curls escaping here and there. We stared at each other until I made the move to leave for dinner even though I did not know where it was going to.

I walked ahead. I could hear Nesta behind me but I descended the stairs and heard the noise coming from one of the floors. I followed the voices and halted. I was suddenly reminded of the fact that I will be dining with strangers. Even though I'd met a few of them and dined with the brothers before, that was back in my own home. I saw Feyre and her family and I felt like something was attacking me. Meeting her in-laws was not how I ever expected it to be but when I saw Feyre walking towards me, I realised that I did not recognise her at all. Where the hell was my sister and who was this woman?

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TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels@impossibelle@esposadomd@starswholistenanddreamsanswered@judig92@bunnyredgirl@sh4nn@a-frog-with-a-laptop@kattzillaa@ronnieglennn@wallacewillow0773638@forgiveliv@justdreamstars@donttellthecats@cat-or-kitten@jojodojo02@wandas-dream@evylynny@weasleyreidstyles@stqrgirlies-blog@why4anne@acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe@macimads@footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley @deeshag @footyandformula @nebarious @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @5onedirection5 @eatsleepreadance1 @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @maddybraps @mrstepes @violet-potter

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel x oc #azriel x original character #a court of silver flames #acofas #azriel shadowsinger #acosf #acomaf #acowar #azriel spymaster #azriel #rhysand #feyre archeron #feysand #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #elain archeron #lucien #lucien vanserra #night court #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel x reader

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

SFX Magazine Issue 372 - Designing Good Omens ❤ 😊

PRODUCTION DESIGNER MICHAEL RALPH REVEALS HOW THE SHOW’S CENTREPIECE SET, WHICKBER STREET, WAS GIVEN A DEVILISHLY CLEVER UPGRADE FOR THE SECOND SEASON

WORDS: DAVE GOLDER

Invisible Columns And Thin Walls “The new studio is Pyramid Studios in Bathgate – it used to be a furniture warehouse. And unfortunately – or fortunately, because I accept these things as not challenges but gifts – right down the middle of that studio are a series of upright columns. But you’ll never spot them on screen. I had to build them in and integrate them into the walls and still get the streets between them. And it worked.

“There’s all sorts of cheeky design values to those sets. Normally a set like this is double-skin. In other words, you do an interior wall and an exterior wall, with an airspace in between. But really, the only time a viewer notices that there’s that width is at the doors and the windows. So I cheated all that. I ended up with single walls everywhere. So the exterior wall is the interior wall, just painted. All I did was make the sash windows and entrances wider to give it some depth as you walked in.”

GOOD OMENS HAD A CHANGE of location for its second season, but hopefully you didn’t notice. Because Whickber Street in Soho upped sticks from an airfield in Hertfordshire to a furniture warehouse in Bathgate, Edinburgh. It’s the kind of nonsensical geographical shenanigans that could only make sense in the crazy world of film and TV, and production designer Michael Ralph was the man in charge of rebuilding and expanding the show’s vast central set. “I wish we could have built more in season one than we did,” says Ralph, whose previous work has included Primeval and Dickensian. “We built the ground floor of everything and the facades of all the shops. But we didn’t build anything higher than that, because we were out on an airfield in a very, very difficult terrain and weather conditions, so we really couldn’t go much higher. Visual effects created the upper levels.”

But with season two the set has gone to a whole other level… literally. “What happened was that the rest of the street became integrated into the series’s storyline,” explains Ralph. “So we needed a record shop, we needed a coffee shop that actually had an inside, we needed a magic shop, we needed the pub. To introduce those meant we had to change the street with a layout that works from a storylines point of view. In other words, things like someone standing at the counter in the record shop had to be able to eyeball somebody standing at the counter in the coffee shop. They had to be able to eyeball Aziraphale sitting in his office in the window of the bookshop. But the rest of it was a pleasure to do inside, because we could expand it and I could go up two storeys.”

For most of the set, which is around 80 metres long and 60 metres wide, the two storeys only applied to the shop frontages, but in the case of Aziraphale’s bookshop, it allowed Ralph to build the mezzanine level for real this time. According to Ralph it became one of the cast and crews’ favourite places to hang out during down time.

But while AZ Fell & Co has grown in height, it actually has a slightly smaller footprint because of the logistics of adapting it to the new studio.

“Everybody swore to me that no one would notice,” says Ralph wryly. “I walked onto it and instinctively knew there was a difference immediately, and they hated me for that. I have this innate sense about spatial awareness and an eye like a spirit level.

“It’s not a lot, though – I think we’ve lost maybe two and a half feet on the front wall internally. I think that there’s a couple of other smaller areas, but only I’d notice. So I can be really annoying to my guys, but only on those levels. Not on any other. They actually quite like me…”

Populating The Bookshop “The props in the new bookshop set were a flawless reproduction from the set decorator Bronwyn Franklin [who is also Ralph’s wife]. It was really the worst-case scenario after season one. She works off the concept art that I produce, but what she does is she adds so much more to the character of the set. She doesn’t buy anything she doesn’t love, or doesn’t fit the character.

“But the things she put a lot of work into finding for season one, they were pretty much one-offs. When we burnt the set down in the sixth episode, we lost a lot of props, many of which had been spotted and appreciated by the fans. So Bronwyn had to discover a new set decorating technique: forensic buying.

“She found it all – duplicates and replicas. It took ages. In that respect, the Covid delay was very helpful for Bron. There’s 7,000 books in there and there’s not one fake book. That’s mainly because… it’s a weird thing to say, but we wanted it to smell and feel like a bookshop to everybody that was in it, all the time.

“It affects everybody subliminally; it affects everybody’s performance – actors and crew – it raises the bar 15 to 20%. And the detail, you know… We love a lot of detail.”

(look at the description under this, they called him 'Azi' hehehehe :D <3)

Aziraphale’s Inspirational Correspondence “There’s not one single scrap of paper on Aziraphale’s desk that isn’t written specifically for Aziraphale. Every single piece is not just fodder that’s been shoved there, it has a purpose; it’s a letter of thanks, or an enquiry about a book or something.

“Michael Sheen is so submerged in his character he would get lost sitting at his own desk, reading his own correspondence between takes. I believe wholeheartedly that if you put that much care into every single piece of detail, on that desk and in that room, that everybody feels it, including the crew, and then they give that set the same respect it deserves.

“They also lift their game because they believe that they’re doing something of so much care and value. Really, it’s a domino effect of passion and care for what you’re producing.”

Alternative Music “My daughter Mickey is lead graphic designer [two of Ralph’s sons worked on the series too, one as a concept artist, the other in props]. They’re the ones that produced all of that handwritten work on the desk. She’s the one that took on the record shop and made up 80 band names so that we didn’t have to get copyright clearance from real bands. Then she produced records and sleeves that spanned 50, 60 years of their recordings, and all of the graphics on the walls.

“I remember Michael and Neil [Gaiman] getting lost following one band’s history on the wall, looking at their posters and albums desperately trying to find out whether they survived that emo period.”

It’s A Kind Of Magic One of the new shops in Whickber Street for season two was Will Goldstone’s Magic Shop, which is full of as many Easter eggs as off-the-shelf conjuring tricks, including a Matt Smith Doctor Who-style fez and a toy orang-utan that’s a nod to Discworld’s The Librarian. Ralph says that while the series is full of references to Gaiman, Pratchett and Doctor Who, Michael Sheen never complained about a lack of Masters Of Sex in-jokes. “He’d be the last person to make that sort of comment!”

Ralph also reveals that the magic shop counter was another one of his wife’s purchases, bought at a Glasgow reclamation yard.

The Anansi Boys Connection Ralph reveals that Good Omens season two used the state-of-the-art special effects tech Volume (famous for its use in The Mandalorian to create virtual backdrops) for just one sequence, but he will be using it extensively elsewhere on another Gaiman TV series being made for Prime Video.

“We used Volume on the opening sequence to create the creation of the universe. I was designing Anansi Boys in duality with this project, which seems an outrageously suicidal thing to do. But it was fantastic and Anansi Boys was all on Volume. So I designed for Volume on one show and not Volume on the other. The complexities and the psychology of both is different.”

#good omens #gos2 #season 2 #photos #bts #bts photos #interview #sfx magazine #magazines #hq photos #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #michael sheen #david tennant #michael ralph #mickey ralph #bronwyn franklin #anansi boys #the small back room #maggie's record shop #soho #aziraphale's bookshop #dirty donkey #magic shop #aziraphale's correspondence #give me coffee or give me death #fun fact #michael ralph interview #sfx 372 magazine #s2 interview

[wannab-urs]

Scandal

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Prompt: Forced Proximity + “You’re going to get us arrested” / “I always wanted to see you in handcuffs.”

Summary: You get locked in a closet with Dieter at the Oscars

Warnings: semi public smut; forced proximity; reader has hair that can have bobby pins in it, is able bodied, is wearing a dress, and is an actress; the barest hint of enemies to lovers, but not really. WC: 1.6k

A/N: Written for a Dieter Bravo Brainrot Server event. Thanks to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin, @atinylittlepain, and @pr0ximamidnight for reading it for me <3

Dieter Bravo Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

You just need to take a breather, that’s all. The Oscars can be a lot for an actress with social anxiety – there’s a million directors, former costars, and producers all vying for a conversation with you, not to mention the cameras catching you from every angle. And to make matters worse, they’ve allowed paparazzi into the lobby this year. 

There’s a coat closet just down this hallway, if you can just remember which door it is. You walk down the ornate hallway and find a door cracked open just slightly, the smell of weed emanating from the gap. You push the door open and step in, closing it tightly behind you. And you should have known from the smell alone who you’d find on the other side. 

None other than Dieter Bravo. 

“Shouldn’t have closed the door.” 

“And you shouldn’t be smoking in here. You’re stinking up everyone’s coats.”

“No, you really shouldn’t have closed the door. We’re locked in now.” 

“What?” Your voice hits a high frequency. You do not want to be locked in a closet with this particular former costar. You try the door anyway and find that he’s telling the truth. 

“I told you.” 

“Fuck, Dieter. You could have warned me!”

He chooses not to respond, taking another hit of his joint instead. He holds his hand out in offering, but you shake your head. Being high and trapped sounds like a recipe for paranoid disaster. 

You slump to the floor, pouting, but grateful they gave you a dress you can actually move around in this year. Dieter sits cross legged across the closet from you. There are coats lining either side of the walls. 

His usually fluffy curls are slicked back and styled to perfection. His nasty green bathrobe and pajama pants have been replaced by a billowing white shirt and fitted black pants. He’s even wearing real shoes. He looks… good. And he’s surprisingly clear eyed for someone smoking an entire joint. 

“You look nice,” Dieter comments. You look down at your dress – the color was chosen specifically to contrast well with your skin tone. The cut shows just enough bust and highlights your body shape. It’s a good dress. 

“Thanks, Dee. I was just thinking the same about you.”

“Oh were you now?” 

You roll your eyes. “Not like that, Dieter. You just clean up nice, is all.”

“I’m not um…” he trails off. 

“Not on coke anymore? I can tell.”

You and Dieter had worked on a project together a couple years ago. It was in the height of his coke addiction and working with him had been an absolute nightmare. He’d show up for work absolutely out of his mind, having screaming matches with the director, the producers, you. And that was if he showed up at all. The project had never even made it to production, leaving you worried your career was ruined. You fucking hated Dieter Bravo. 

But you could never deny how adorable he is. 

“Yeah. Cleaned up. Went to rehab. The whole shebang.”

“That’s good, Dee. Really.” 

You let your head fall back against the door, exposing the line of your throat to possibly the world's horniest man.

“You look really good in that dress.”

“I’m not going to have sex with you.”

You peek an eye open and see Dieter is already halfway across the floor, crawling to you on his hands and knees. He’s pouting at you. 

“What else do we have to do right now?”

You sigh and try the door one more time for good measure, reaching up behind you and tugging on the door handle. Still locked tight. Dieter grins and crawls even closer, settling between your thighs. He reaches out and strokes his thumb across your cheek. You can’t help but lean into it. 

“Always thought you were so beautiful.”

“Sure, Dee,” you scoff 

“I did. I do. Can I kiss you?” 

“Sure, Dee,” you whisper breathlessly. 

He presses his lips to yours gently at first. His lips are soft and plush against yours and you can’t help but deepen the kiss. You open your mouth and his tongue meets yours, hot and wet. Arousal sweeps through you and you bury your hands in his gorgeous curls, holding him against you. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap. You gasp, causing the kiss to break as your core comes into contact with the hard line of his cock in his trousers. 

“So fucking beautiful,” Dieter mutters into your throat, pressing kisses down into your cleavage. 

He lays you flat on the floor and scoots back, settling on his belly in between your thighs and rucking your dress up to your hips. 

“Dieter, you’re going to get us arrested for public indecency.”

“First of all, I’ve always wanted to see you in handcuffs,” he presses a kiss to your left thigh. “And secondly, I don’t see anyone here to catch us,” he kisses your right thigh, higher up this time. 

He hooks his thumb in the gusset of your panties, stroking your already soaked folds. You moan as quietly as you can. 

“So wet for me, already.” 

You groan as he pulls your panties to the side and buries his face in your cunt. There’s no build up, he eats you like he’s ravenous, like he hasn’t eaten in days. His curved nose grinds into your clit as he laps at your hole. His tongue plunges inside you over and over and you can already feel your core tightening. He slips two fingers in to replace his tongue, drawing circles on your clit with the point of it now. You cry out, much louder than you mean to be, than you need to be. His left hand comes up to cover your mouth, his face now hovering above yours as he curls his fingers perfectly inside you. 

“Quiet now, love. Wouldn’t want to get arrested for public indecency.”

The bastard. He thrusts his fingers into you a few more times and you’re coming all over his hand. You bite down on his palm to keep from screaming. He draws his fingers out of you slowly and rights your panties for you. He sucks your come off his fingers like it’s cake batter, letting out a little moan of his own at the taste. 

The door handle jiggles and you both freeze. Just as the lock turns, Dieter grabs you and rolls you both under the lowest level of coats on the side of the closet. You’re on top of him, breathing heavily into his neck. Someone comes in, grabs their coat, and leaves the room, pulling the door closed behind them. 

Dieter goes to roll you both back out but you stop him. You press a kiss to his very exposed throat. 

“I love this shirt. Very Mr. Darcy.”

“It is romantic isn’t it?” 

You drag your lips down his throat to his chest, pressing a kiss to the lowest bit of exposed skin. Your hands find the clasp on his fancy black pants, but you can’t quite get them open.

“The one time you don’t wear easy access pants…” 

“Here, let me.”

You both fumble for a moment before the clasp finally comes open and his cock springs out. 

“No underwear?”

“The lines were showing too bad.”

“Mmhmm,” you quirk an eyebrow at him. 

You wrap his cock in your hand. It’s long, curved a little, and not terribly thick. 

“Pretty,” you mutter before taking the tip in your mouth. He gasps as you suck him down. You swirl your tongue around his head, then flatten it out and let him fill your mouth. He hits the back of your throat and you suppress a cough, pushing him further down. His hands flutter into your hair as you start bobbing your head, sucking him down over and over again. He doesn’t push or pull you, simply rests his hands on the back of your head. 

You pull off him and lick a stripe up the seam of his balls as you stroke his cock. You suck one into your mouth, rolling it gently on your tongue, then switch to the other. 

“I’m gonna–”

You take his cock down your throat again, wanting to swallow his cum. You suck hard on the tip and then drop your lips down to the base as he comes in your mouth. His hips stutter beneath you and he groans. 

You let his softening cock fall out of your mouth and press a kiss to his hip bone. He strokes the back of your head reverently. 

“We should get cleaned up,” you whisper, your voice rough. 

Dieter sighs, but helps you get back to your feet. You take in his rumpled appearance and know you can’t look much better. His chest is covered in lipstick, as is his face. His hair is an absolute mess. His outfit is askew and wrinkled to hell. 

You help him fix his outfit, rub the lipstick off his skin, and finger comb his hair back into some semblance of a style. He pulls bobby pins out of your hair and stows them in his pockets, letting your hair down from the hours of work the stylist did. He smooths out your dress as best as he can. 

“We look…”

“Like we just fucked on the floor of a closet?”

“Yeah.”

He takes a bobby pin from his pocket and picks the lock on the door. 

“You could have done that the whole time?” 

Dieter doesn’t answer. He stands and takes your hand in his and pulls the door open. You’re immediately inundated with camera flashes. The paparazzi have found you. Your agent is going to kill you. 

“I fucking hate you,” you halfheartedly fuss at Dieter. This scandal will be fun to deal with... 

#Dieter Bravo #Dieter Bravo fics #Dieter Bravo fanfiction #Dieter Bravo x reader #Dieter Bravo x you #The Bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo x f!reader

[ashipiko]

—NIKO CIMARRON

All information on Niko Cimarron ATM! Will most likely be updated ☆

—MORE UNDER CUT

BASIC INFORMATION:

Class: 2-A

Birthday: October 24

Height: 176cm

Dominant Hand: Right

From: Land of Pyroxene / Shaftlands

Club: Film Studies (visits on occasion, inactive member)

Favorite Subject: Magic Analysis

Best Subject: Animal Languages

Likes: Making a profit

Dislikes: Getting outsmarted

Favorite Food: Berries / Berry flavored things

Least Favorite Food: Anything too hot

Specialty: Balancing on the line of lie and truth

GALLERY:

VOICE CLAIM:

YUU’S INTERVIEW:

— Scarabia Dorms - Niko’s Room —

for easier reading, all yuu dialogue will be in italics and all niko dialogue will be in a normal black font instead of green.

There you are. Surprised you came to visit me, Carrots.

> You know what I’m here for, Niko.

> Why are you surprised?

No need to act like that. Interview, right? Or should I say an interrogation? If you wanted to hang out with me, you didn’t need to hide around the bush, you know…

It’s cute seeing you all dodgy, but still. ♡

> I think it matches your vibe.

> You’re one to talk.

Yeah, yeah. How many questions do we have planned for today? Don’t take too long, now. I’ve gotta start pumping out those treats for my profit.

…Oh. No need to worry about a pen and paper, I’ve got one for you.

> I didn’t expect for you to be so prepared.

> (…They’re cuter than expected.)

Something something about matching the vibes… They’re modeled after an old movie about cops and so, interrogating. Figured you’d like them. A carrot for Carrots. It’s cute.

It’s about time to start though, huh?

> Yeah.

> No more wasting time.

INTERVIEW: START!

1. Can we get some basic info about you from… you?

A second year Scarabia student who’s a fox beastman. I guess I’m what you’d call a charmer, thief of the heart, man of your dreams… I’ve heard it all. But the real name’s Niko. Niko Cimarron. My surname means “Wild”, so you could call me Mr. Wild if you like that too. Heh, actually, it’s a business thing, so I guess you’d only call me that if you bought my products… Say, Carrots, you feeling like you need a snack? I have some lefties if you’d like.

> No thanks.

> Why not?

They’re tasty, I prommie~.

2. Speaking of which, what are your “pawpsicles” made from? How do you make them?

Those little things? Why, I’ll let you know I put my blood, sweat, and tears in those treats. Makes me happy to see other people happy, like the faces on a thaumark. To make ‘em, it’s just some tasty berries from the school grounds that get mushed up to get juice, where they go into a mold and freeze up. It’s hard work! I’ve gotta walk so many steps around the school and all across campus… You’re lucky you never saw me in my first year. Took me a while to get used to the schedule… Though, I’m a well-organized man now, I’ll have you know. It’s good for the public image.

3. You’re from the Shaftlands, aren’t you? Do you have any connections to Vil, Cater, or Jack?

Connections? I have them with everyone, really… though I don’t think those three are really aware I came from the same place as them. To be fair, the Shaftlands is a pretty big area. People even go as far to call it a utopia.

If anything, I’ve talked to Diamond more at NRC than anywhere in the Shaftlands. Is that because I never even saw him once? Maybe. So I can’t say about back then, but I can enjoy a good conversation with him now. He’s a good customer and a good influencer. Back then, he got me a good chunk of costumers off of a Magicam post, so I’ve got to give it to him. Who knew people could just follow trendy things at the drop of a hat? Crazy, right?

Vil is a major celebrity, and Jack, I didn’t even know existed ‘till this year. I’ve got nothing to say about Mr. Hardhead, but I’ve had my fair share of talks with Vil. When we were kids, I got a wave from him once… It was great bragging rights. Heh, he kinda freaks me out now though. The reason why I don’t actually participate in club activities. He’s probably too high of a standard for a lowlife like me, so it’s not something that bothers me anyway.

4. You don’t seem to have a Unique Magic. Any reason why?

Ah. Magic? A little bit of a sour topic for me, Carrots, ow… I’m just a late bloomer, is all. I’ve got magic in me, but I never played around with it when I was younger, so I’m way more rusty than all of the other guys here. It doesn’t mean I don’t know the brain stuff, though. Just inexperienced.

If I’m being dead honest, it’s kind of a miracle how I got into NRC. I guess they wanted the fox vote, huh? Heh.

5. Not sure if I’ve seen you around a lot with one particular person. Is there a secret someone?

Secret someone? Getting jealous, are you? Haha, I would’ve never taken you to be the type!

> Not the focus of the question.

> That’s not…!

It’s your fault for wording it like that. You’ve got to watch your words, Carrots. Well, the business life is a cold one, isn’t it? Being around a bunch of highschool guys isn’t really the “ideal” grounds for making business partners either, so it is what it is. At least this way, I get all the profits, so I don’t mind. If you want, I can save a spot for you by my side. ♡

> Again, no thanks.

> Maybe after I get a break from all the things this school brings.

Keep me in mind~.

6. Our last question. You say a lot of random stuff. People get annoyed with it pretty often. How do you feel about that?

…? Oh, you picked up on it, huh? Heh, I mean… I guess I could come clean. I think it’s interesting you haven’t walked away from me yet, y’know. Usually people aren’t into this stuff.

> You are annoying, but…

> (Would it be mean to say something?)

I appreciate you, Carrots. A little too much than I’d like.

Usually people don’t really like the stereotypical foxiness I bring to the table. They run away because I’m either something they don’t wanna get mixed up with, or just something they don’t like. I think you’re a weirdo who’s looking for entertainment when you come into my room and talk to me like this.

…But I guess that just means that you like the way I talk to you, right? You can’t get enough? Is that what’s happening here? ♡

> For a second, I thought you were going to need some comfort, but I guess not.

> Really, it’s fine, Niko…

Don’t pretend like your cheeks aren’t a little red. I like the reactions I get out of you. ♡

Is that all you wanted? Yeah? Alright, we’re done here, then. Hand me the pen, would ya?

> It was nice being able to talk to you like this.

> (That was a quick turnaround.)

…Yeah. Hurry on up, shouldn’t you be studying up on actual things worth studying? Live up to that Smarty McSmart Pants title. Bye-bye now~.

INTERVIEW: END!

> (I feel like Niko’s more than meets the eye.)

> (I feel like Niko’s… hiding something.)

.

.

.

TRIVIA:

Niko is actually magicless. Not entirely, as he does have some running in his blood, so he didn’t lie, but it’s not enough where he can successfully conjure spells. Because of this, at NRC, he often has to get by with con-artist type excuses and acts. It works most of the time, as he has Crowley’s support. For now, he’s getting by with the excuse of being a late bloomer, but I’m sure suspicions are beginning to rise… Perhaps, if this were to be found out that he’s unable to conjure spells, he would be kicked out of NRC.

He made it to NRC after being dared to attempt to con his way in by his magicless best friend. His name is not noted, but he’s a very angry and violent French fennec fox. Niko is often bullied by him.

He can be considered a fan of Vil.

Niko enjoys the pop genre a lot, but is embarrassed to admit it.

Despite being a playboy, Niko is easily flustered at the thought of someone making moves on him.

Even though he doesn’t want to, he feels obligated to play into the deceitful foxiness of himself, because that’s what people naturally expect of him. It stops them from getting curious about him, as it seems like they’ve already got him figured out.

He says things that are considered shallow, like flirting or bargaining because he wants to get a reaction out of people. Niko does small things like this for small reactions — enough of these small reactions will fulfill the same satisfaction of seeing someone he loves flustered or happy, he thinks. In truth, he knows it won’t amount to much. Niko tries to satisfy himself enough so that he won’t need the real thing.

Niko feels very guilting for deceiving everyone at NRC, especially the prefect. Even still, he doesn’t have the heart to tell them that he truly doesn’t belong here, taking up a spot possibly for somebody who deserves it much more.

Niko’s way of thinking suggests that if he acts distasteful enough, it will cause people to stray far away from him. He believes that he really is just a lowlife fox, but the truth of his actions is something he think people would hate him for most; living in a lie. Because of this, he acts like a playboy and an annoyance in attempts to get people to stay away, preventing them from finding out the even uglier truth of him.

Additionally, he’s afraid to have the truth leak out because he doesn’t want to leave NRC. Though he doesn’t have much, he doesn’t want to lose the little bit he does have.

Even still, Niko craves for someone who will take time to understand him. Which is why he’s so attached to the prefect.

More to be added!

#niko cimarron #ashi’s ocs ♡ #twst oc #twst #twst wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twst yuu #UHH. UHHHH. TAGS #UHHHHHHHH #yeah I got nothing #I HOPE YOU ENJOY MY WIDDLE FOXY BOY

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 괴물/Beyond Evil.

Beyond Evil is a 2021 Korean drama about two cops that solve a small-town murder that one of them might have committed. Also there's more than one murder to be solved. Also more than one of those murders happened twenty years ago. Also, the cop might have gotten away with at least one of those too.

It got sold to me on the strength of the main pairing, which is absolutely captivating and worth the price of admission. But the entire cast is amazing, the story is great, and it's all just so satisfying. I love everyone in this weird small Korean town. I love having emotions and various Korean foods with them.

I got five reasons why you should watch it! Read 'em!

1. Do You Want To See An Old Man Cry?

In fact, do you want to see every man cry? Do you want to see every man in the cast either cry or pretend to cry or be on the verge of tears at least once? Do you want to see the main characters, who are both men, cry multiple times, often while otherwise wet as well?

Well, buddy, Beyond Evil has got you covered.

2. Absolute Nightmare/Absolute Nightmare

I do not consider it a spoiler to tell you that Han Juwon (the younger one, on the right) is a very mentally unstable superboy. You already know everyone thinks Lee Dongsik (the older one, on the left) is psycho -- it's nearly the first thing you learn about him. But when you're introduced to Han Juwon, you're given the impression that maybe he's just cold, self-possessed, and competent.

No. He is an absolute freak. This is a freak4freak relationship. They are both completely unhinged. They have both been traumatized to nigh-unimaginable degrees, and they have each decided to make it the other's problem. Fortunately (or unfortunately) for both of them, they both get off on that real hard, and they get real mad sometimes about how hard they're getting off on it. It's delicious.

And yet what makes it great is how they're different flavors of freak. They've got the age difference (40 and 27). They've got the height difference (even though the actors are only like 1cm apart, the whole thing is somehow shot like there's a bigger gap). They've got the class difference (small town weirdo and cop royalty). One's a messy bitch, and one's a prissy prince. One has a whole network of people who affectionately endure him, and one has exactly 0.73 friends. One wants to take care of everyone else but not himself, and one has never looked out for anyone else a day in his life. One's a smug little shit, and one's ... also a smug little shit, but differently.

You have perhaps been given the impression that Beyond Evil is like Hannibal, and that Juwon/Dongsik is like Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter. It's not, and yet it scratches a similar itch, if that makes sense.

Don't let me give you the impression that this is textually gay. They do not smooch or anything, so don't be waiting for that. But holy cow, is it homoromantic -- and the leads know it is, and they roll around in it, and everyone else in the production supports their doing it. They have the kind of chemistry stars are jealous of. (It helps that the younger actor is a muffin who has a such crush on the older one.)

And that's even before the part where they get married live on national television. Is that a joke? You'll have to watch to find out.

3. Lee Changjin (and the other antagonists)

I'll talk in a second about excellent and despicable all the bad guys are. But I need a special moment for this motherfucker right here.

Lee Changjin is a wretched, scummy piece of shit who damn near walks away with every scene he's in. He's not the worst like a little meow meow -- he is the actual worst, and it's so good. He's sleazy. He's pathetic. He's hot as fuck. You meet his ex-wife, and you're like, no, honey, sure it was a bad decision, but I totally get it.

Clearly he has a special place in my heart, but all the bad guys in this series are done so damn well. Their realism makes them even scarier. They're not incomprehensible ghouls out there being bad just to be bad. They're (mostly) making calculated decisions based on keeping their own heads above water, and to hell with everyone else.

I'm not going to spoil the identity of the murderer for you -- but it kind of doesn't matter, because you find out who it is less than halfway through the show (and because there are multiple people in this show who've killed someone). There's something bigger and more awful at work here, perpetrated by people that you knew were bad news from the moment you met them.

Beyond Evil is a cop show that is not copaganda, because one of the biggest villains in the series is misuse of police power. The show stresses accountability for police misconduct -- to the point where that accountability hurts characters we want to see get away with stuff because, come on, their bad behavior was totally justified! But it wasn't! The ends do not justify the means here. The world is not better when powerful people use their power to get out of the consequences of their shitty, selfish actions, even when those shitty, selfish actions were objectively kind of cool.

Fair warning, a lot of this show is about complicated relationships with abusive, absent, deceased, and otherwise difficult parents. Those parents are not always (or even mostly) the bad guys -- but the bad guys are all shitty parents. And yet, their adult children are tied to them in complicated ways that do said children no favors. Some of the most heartbreaking pieces of the show are about how these kids break free from those parents -- or, more tragically, don't.

4. Just plain good television

This is a series that can be handled by Your Average American Television Enjoyer Who Can Handle Subtitles. Its quality is on par with a lot of well-thought-of English-language shows I've seen. It's a tight, well-plotted story that's clear enough to be easy to follow, which is sometimes a high bar for a multi-tendriled murder mystery. The small-town setting even gives it a good source of levity to break up the otherwise tight tension.

It's only sixteen episodes long, but there are enough reveals to make a rewatch more than worth your while. The first half in particular improves exponentially on the second viewing, because once you have all the information, events and decisions that you initially read one way, you can see meant something else entirely.

I was initially going to say that if this were in English, all those fans of things like the Wire and True Detective would be super-horny for it -- except that's not true, is it? No, shows like that (which I have seen, for the record) glorify cops who can't be held down by your damn system, so they have to say screw the rules to get things done, because they're too cool and manly for things like paperwork! While Beyond Evil acknowledges that there are some places where the Korean law system is janky and might let a guilty person go free, but that doesn't mean cops get to do whatever they want about it.

My declaration of the show's quality isn't just me judging by my own tastes. This show won the Korean equivalent of Emmys for Best Drama, Best Screenplay, and a well-deserved Best Actor for Shin Hakyun, who plays that incredibly handsome horrible old man. This is a show that actual people who hand out actual awards for good television thought deserved awards.

So I guess if you always wanted to get into those shows a certain kind of dude can't stop talking about, but you had reservations about how authoritarian/libertarian/misogynistic/homophobic/boring they are, Beyond Evil is here for you!

5. Written and directed by women

This one I think is important as hell, because this is a Dead Girl Show (i.e., a show where men kill multiple women as a major part of the plot), and I know a lot of people are justifiably wary about those. However, there are no hints of sexual assault. The violence is gendered, but it's not sexualized. The murders and postmortem mutiliations are handled with the appropriate horror, but it's not torture porn. And the dead girls are treated like -- and grieved like -- actual humans who matter.

I think a whole lot of this can be chalked up to the fact that both the writer and the director of Beyond Evil are women.

In fact, not only are they both women, they're women who don't do this kind of story all the time. Shim Nayeon has directed five things, four of which are comedy/slice-of-life series. Kim Sujin has written a few dramas about mystery-solving teams, but even more comedy and adaptations of webtoons. I have no idea how the two of them got put on this drama together, but it was a perfect match.

This is not to say that men would be incapable of pulling off a story like this. It is, however, a commentary on violence, and how different it looks if you've grown up seeing yourself everywhere as its object rather than its subject. Sure, you could just flip the script and make a story about a lady punchkicker! A lot of people have, and I've enjoyed many of them! But you could also choose to tell a story about gendered violence in a way that isn't just needlessly retraumatizing the people who have to live their entire lives under its shadow. Moreover, you could tell a story about how even good-guy cops can wind up unintentionally buying into paradigms where some women are valuable and some are disposible.

...And if it winds up being teensy bit of a fantasy story about a world in which so many cops give a shit about this violence, well, that's what fiction is for, right?

In short, you love a team of powerful ladies power-drunk on an Arnold Palmer of Respect Women Juice and Sad Man Tears.

Bonus: BANGER SOUNDTRACK

Oh, it's so, so good. (Spotify link)

Have I convinced you to watch it yet?

It's on Netflix, which may be easiest for most people! However, it's also on Viki, and I much prefer the subtitles over there, because a) they keep the flavor of the Korean terms of address, and b) they actually translate the damn episode titles (wtf Netflix?).

There's no bad way to watch it, though!

(ack, they're so cute~)

#beyond evil #괴물 #rec post #honorary danmei #i made this #seriously though it's so good #watch beyond evi

[vyl3tpwny]

You inspired me to get back into Bangarang era Skrillex without shame in my heart and to embrace the (harmless) cringe in my soul. As well as seek out other lesser known artists who keep up that sound. So, thanks!

real talk i have been making music for almost two decades now. when i first heard skrillex's music i instantly knew it was amazing. but i couldn't really express why. as i've gotten older, spent lots and lots of time making music and learning about music and researching, a lot of things i used to adore don't impress me like when i first heard them. but even all this time later, skrillex's music — past and present — is incredible and untouchable. i think a lot of casual listeners do not realize just how flawless, complex, and perfectly executed his sound design and ideas are across the board. the best thing you can do when listening to skrillex's music is just pick out ONE single sound and ask yourself "how did he create this sound? how do you go about creating this sound from scratch". the casual listener rarely considers a question like this, but when you ask this about nearly anything skrillex makes, even if you can fathom an answer it's still the most mindblowing thing in the world.

but sound design is not everything either. i got sucked into the soundcloud community around 2016 or so. to any of my soundcloud classmates, peers, and alumni, hey how are you doing <3 but the soundcloud scene of 2016-2019 was a VERY specific beast. a lot of the music that emerged during the scene's height was this idea that sound design is always more important than anything else. so you would have tons and tons and tons of songs that came out that had crazy sound design ... but not much else. this goes back to skrillex's music. skrillex's sound design isn't just complex, but it's also executed with amazing songwriting. it isn't just a tech fest, he's making amazing songs, perfectly accessible, with incredible sound design as the foundation rather than the only thing the music has to offer. for a while i think i had been so swept up by the soundcloud scene that i rlly ignored songwriting in favour of sound design, like i had to choose.

that is to say, skrillex's music has been and will always be a pinnacle of what "festival EDM" should be evaluated as in standard. i've already done my share of criticizing skrillex for how he butchered "dubstep", and i'm not going to ever pretend that such criticism does not exist. but regardless, EDM is an extremely saturated genre which has caused lots of people to hate or misunderstand it. i think if people focused more on making strong songs and not tunnelvisioning on one aspect of the music, EDM would be more compelling to more people, beyond just 'sounding good' or 'being a banger'.

scary monsters and nice sprites, the song, is a really good song. it has a pretty standard arrangement and flow, but moment to moment it's always interesting and full. the production is so ridiculously clean and dynamic but does not skimp out on making shit sound beefy and deep as well. but what a lot of people don't realize is that the sound design on that song is so incredible, that in a lot of music spaces, it's considered a holy grail to whoever fully reverse engineers the growls in scary monsters. for over 10 years now, there have been dedicated skype groups, discord servers, youtube streams, and forum threads on people literally dedicating portions of their music making lives to trying to understand JUST the scary monsters growls alone. what makes it so elusive is that it's likely done with the FM8 synth and trying to reverse engineer more than 2-3 operators on an FM synth is literally a death sentence. skrillex himself probably couldn't remake it from scratch, only create something similar doing the moves he would do in FM8. but the scary monsters growls are literally a holy grail and people are STILL working in small community pockets to figure out how it was done, 14 years after the album came out.

#vyop

[strawberry-whorecake]

One Hell of a Star | C.B.

pairing: Charlie Barber x fem!reader

summary: Being an aspiring actress, fresh off the press of Julliard, Charlie Barber’s theater company was the first place you put your bets on into making it. However, your audition doesn’t go quite how you’re used to, not that you’re complaining.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: swearing, power dynamic, abuse of power, PinV sex, unprotected sex, cum eating, slight dubcon

A/N: i’ve been writing so much Kylo, i decided to take a break with Charlie

Charlie Barber was the most sought after director in New York. His theater company, Exit Ghost, was exactly where you found yourself being a young, aspiring actress. It was the first place you figured you had a real shot, and after hearing nothing but good about Charlie Barber, it was worth that shot.

The halls glowed a soft orange as your shoes echoed against the linoleum with every step you took. It was mostly empty, only passing about two other people who paid you no mind as you walked along.

Reaching the main theater doors, you took a reaffirming breath as you pulled them open, the doors groaning in response. The theater was dimly lit and barren of anyone except for the back of a head containing raven colored soft waves.

Upon the doors' announcement of your arrival he smoothly turned his head and peered over his shoulder. "Can I help you?"

You'd recognized him in local papers and from website articles critiquing him with high praise for his work. "Oh, I'm so sorry to disturb you," your eyes flashed to the notebook he'd previously been scrawling his thoughts away in. "Uh, hi, are you Charlie Barber?" you asked, taking a few steps into the theater. He set his preoccupations aside and stood, swelling to his full 6'2 height.

"I am, and you are?" He looked you over as you two approached one another, taking in every aspect of your appearance while you introduced yourself. He stuck out his hand, giving yours a shake. His grip was firm, confident, and your handshake in comparison felt weak. Just as weak as you felt in the knees taking in the sight of the handsome man.

"I've heard all about your theater company–I saw your play on Broadway, Electra, it was excellent." He smiled at your praise and nodded his head in thanks. "I'm an actress–er, I'd like to be." You lowered your gaze, holding out your makeshift resume of previous productions you'd been a part of. He took it from your grip, letting his eyes graze over the paper.

His brows furrowed softly as he made mental note of everything you've done thus far. "You've never been a part of a proper play?" His tone was gentle despite his words being vaguely critical. "No sir, Mr. Barber, I've just graduated from Julliard, I've only done college productions..."

He raised a brow, his dark eyes meeting yours. "Julliard, huh? They're tough to get into." You nodded, but he spoke again before you could get a word out. "And please, call me Charlie, Mr. Barber was my father and makes me feel much older than I am." he chuckled softly, easing you into a gentle smile.

"Charlie," you familiarized yourself with the feeling of his name on your lips. "I know I'm asking a great deal from you, being rather inexperienced, but I'd like to ask you to take a chance on me."

He considered you, his eyes grazing over your appearance again. His gaze drifted across your features for a few moments before he allowed himself to peer at your frame only for a second–meeting your eyes again.

"So you're looking to audition then?" You nodded, "Truth is, I'd be honored to be a part of your company, even if I'm not on the stage, just being a part of Exit Ghost would be an incredible privilege."

"You've brought a piece to audition with?" You nodded once more, shuffling through the papers you'd held in your hand and outstretched another one toward him, which he immediately looked over. "Ah, Juliet's most famous monologue from Act 2, Scene 2." his words were butter-smooth, and you suddenly flushed.

"It's not too stereotypical, is it?" you chewed at the inside of your lip in nervousness, immediately second guessing your monologue decision–out of every monologue to ever exist you went with perhaps the most well known.

Charlie immediately took note of your sudden nerves and bid you a sweet, consoling smile. "No, no. It's good to play to your strengths, Romeo and Juliet is a classic for a reason, is it not? It's, uh, timeless."

You smiled, relief washing over you in waves. Charlie's gaze lingered to the stage for a moment before his lip curled slightly in the corner. "We can take this to my office, the stage's just been polished–it might be too slick to stand on currently." His hand lightly pressed against your lower back, guiding you back out the doors of the theater.

Following behind him, you made your way through the hall coming to a stop at a door that had a golden plaque hanging dead-center labeled, 'Director'. He pushed open the door, gesturing you in with his strong hand.

You took a few steps in, looking around at the office as Charlie followed in after you, shutting the door, making you look at him. "Oh, I'm sorry–would you prefer I left it open?" His brows raised softly as he spoke. "No, that's okay. It's your office."

He chuckled, his tone was mellifluous, a slight playfulness hung on his voice when he spoke. "It's your audition." You bid him a smile as he bypassed you, rearing around his desk and taking a seat in his chair, folding his hands together.

"Whenever you're ready to begin, you can." He gestured to you once more with a roll of his hand as he crossed his leg over his thigh and placed his hold onto his calf with one hand–effortlessly draping his other atop his opposite arm. You took a deep breath, and softly cleared your throat, mustering up your stage persona.

You lifted your head confidently, swelling your chest, and feigned your best love-stricken look–though in the presence of this admittedly handsome man, looking lovestruck was nowhere near impossible.

"O, Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?" Your voice was desperate, calling out. "Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn, my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet."

"Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?" Charlie's voice was gentle, taking you slightly off-guard as you hadn't expected him to take Romeo's lines, but you were oddly relieved he had–filling the silence between Juliet's monologue. He ran his hand through his hair, cocking his head slightly as he looked at you.

You wet your lips, keeping your gaze on him because you just couldn't help yourself, he was elegantly handsome.

"'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art myself, though not a Montague–" you began the following part of Juliet's monologue, performing with great ease as it came naturally for you, while simultaneously watching Charlie's reactions to your audition.

As your chest would swell with confidence, he'd gently lean his head back, his eyes drifting over your frame, likely judging your stage presence. "What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot," you took a step forward, contemplatively. "Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man."

Another step forward, your fingers clutched the edge of his desk as you cried out desperately, "O, be some other name!"

Charlie's eyes studied you the entire time, your expressions were one he lingered on the longest. You pulled away from his desk, wrapping your arms around your own shoulders. "What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other word would smell as sweet."

Continuing the monologue you watched as Charlie stood, breezing around the side of his desk as he placed himself upon the corner, closing more distance between you two as he studied you. You took a great chance and pulled yourself closer to him, closing in more distance as your heart beat faster.

"-take all myself." the final line of the monologue ghosted off your lips, your voice nothing more than a hushed whisper. Your eyes interlocked with his. You didn't speak, awaiting your feedback and criticisms, and the silence that echoed throughout the room as you two both beheld each other.

His hand snaked up, fingertips gently caressing your cheek as he drew your face nearer to his. "I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; henceforth. I will never be Romeo." he muttered, words gliding off his tongue with ease.

His thumb traced up to your lips, your face burned with heat as he stroked your bottom lip with his thumb, your chin resting in the crook between his index finger and thumb as he held your gaze firm to his.

His thumb edged deeper into your lips, splitting them apart. You allowed his action, intoxicated with his touch and his attention, but you gently nipped at the tip of his thumb with your teeth, watching as his lip curled into a soft smirk.

Your heart skipped a beat–this was surely never the way any previous audition had gone down, and you convinced yourself if any other director had done this to you, you would've kicked him where it hurt... but Charlie...

Charlie had you enamored. You craved nothing more than his recognition, his touch. You were putty in his hands, and little did you know he planned to shape you into the budding star he saw you as.

"Quite the little Juliet you are." his words came out as a breath as he gently pulled your face closer to his. His nose touched your skin first, dug delicately into the plush of your cheeks before his lips made contact with your jaw–his thumb and forefinger pinching at your chin to keep your face close to his.

"Tell me..." he whispered against your flesh, "How good do you think Romeo made Juliet feel?" You couldn't stop your breath from hitching in your throat as he spoke. Your hand inadvertently grabbed hold of his leg as your thighs squeezed together.

He chuckled breathily as he watched your desperate attempt for friction, but he was in the lead, diving his knee between your legs and drove them apart. He took the opportunity to let his free hand snake around your waist, resting against the small of your back as he pulled you closer to him.

The smell of Charlie's cologne filled your senses, it was robust and masculine with undertones of leathers and wood, while being incredibly elegant and lavish. The scent alone made desire burn through your core.

His hand teased lower, cupping your ass and shoving you flush against him. "Charlie-!" you squeaked out in surprise. His fingers squeezed your chin, making you look up into his eyes through your lashes.

"How badly do you want to be an actress?" he purred, drawing his thumb back to your bottom lip again as he gripped your chin against his palm.

"M-more than anything..." you squeaked again, using all your control to not whine. His face zeroed in on yours, his eyes narrowing and darkening slightly. "Prove it."

He shoved his thumb into your mouth and you closed your lips around it, drawing in your cheeks and sucking on his digit. His eyes locked in on the sight of your mouth around his thumb, watching the way your cheeks hollowed out as you sucked–his own lips parting in awe. He pulled it free with an obscene pop before smearing your saliva across your bottom lip.

His hand trailed down your body, his eyes following the movements of his hand. "We need to take these off. I need to study you."

His hands clutched at the fabric of your shirt and despite your embarrassment you raised your arms, allowing him to pull your top over your head. You were taken aback as he folded your shirt in half and placed it with care on his knee. He wasted no time to begin fidgeting with the clasp of your jeans, working with his thick fingers to unbutton them.

The craving in your core forced your own fingers to assist him, kicking off your shoes before sliding your thumbs into the waistband of your jeans, dragging them down the plush of your hips, then your thighs, until you pulled them all the way off.

He took the pants from your hands, folding them with the same care and placed them on top of your shirt. He stood to his full height making you raise your head to keep your eyes on his. He placed your clothes in the chair that sat kitty-cornered to his desk, using his foot to sweep your shoes in that direction.

He swept around you, leaving your back vulnerable to him as you peered over your shoulder as he took you in. His brows furrowed softly, "No, not good enough. I need to really see you." Big warm hands grazed the small of your back again before tracing up and unclasping the hooks of your bra. He then grabbed onto your side, spinning you rather harshly to face him.

His eyes draped over your chest before meeting your eyes–locking in on your wide-eyed expression as he pulled your bra off your body, your nipples pebbling in the open air of his office. He draped it over his forearm as he indulged himself in looking at your breasts, his tongue darting along his bottom lip as he took in the sight of you.

"Almost." he hummed, looping his fingers into the waistband of your panties. His thick fingers pressing against your pelvis made your body burn with a mix of need and embarrassment.

This was definitely not how any other audition played out.

With an easy tug, he pulled the fabric down your hips, offering you his other arm to steady yourself as you stepped out of them. He placed the two articles in the chair with the rest of your clothing before returning his attention to you.

You bit your lip to silence the whimpers that leeched in your throat at the sight of him observing you fully bared for him, before he caught wind of your nerves and met your eyes again. "Stunning." he purred.

Your cheeks flooded with warmth the second his fingers reached out and trailed down your side, starting just below your ribs before stopping at your hip. He drew you closer to him, pressing you flush against him and you felt the tent in his pants from his half-hard cock prod against your lower belly.

"Let me spoil you like a real star." his words fell off his lips in a breathy grunt. His eyes searched yours for a moment and when you nervously nodded your head he dove his lips into yours.

The feeling of his plush pink lips against yours shot shockwaves through your nerve endings. It was hot–full of fervor–the way his lips worked. His chest fell as he exhaled against your lips, his thick fingers trailing around your waist, and he squeezed at the plush of your ass.

He kissed you heavily, pressing his hips firmly to your body as your hands rose up to his chest, gently dragging your fingernails down his shirt. You desperately wanted him to remove his clothing too–if anything, just to ease your nerves over being the only one so exposed, but you knew you were in no position to ask, forcing you to swallow down the thought.

The hand not fondling your ass rose between your breasts, circling itself around your throat before gently squeezing at the sides. You didn't have the time to stifle the breathy moan you pressed against his lips.

He smirked as he pulled away from you. He took in the sight of you once more before he grabbed hold of your waist and spun you around so your back was to him.

He trailed his thick fingers down your flesh, following the line starting at your shoulder blades and ending at the dimples in your waist. His hips rutted against yours forcefully, making you gasp and stick out your hands to his desk to balance yourself.

"You're perfect." he hummed, diving his hand around your waist as he reached between your thighs, his thick fingers sliding though your slit. Feeling how wet you were for him pulled a breathy chuckle from his throat.

"Oh you're quite the little star already, aren't you?" his words felt slightly jeering, making you whimper in protest. His fingers worked at your core, drawing meticulous circles around your clit. His hips rutted into yours again, pressing his hardness against your ass, and eliciting a moan from your throat.

He pulled his hand away from your folds and you bit down on your lip at the loss of contact, missing the feeling of his thick fingers on you until you heard the clack of his belt coming undone.

You peered over your shoulder to look at him, watching as he unbuttoned his slacks and pulled them down just enough to free himself from his boxers.

You gaped at the sight of him–his cock was much bigger than you'd anticipated, the vision of it made your thighs tremble and your cunt clench around nothing.

He caught sight of you looking, seeing your knees wobble softly and he chuckled again, "Don't worry, you can take it." He stroked himself a few times, swirling his precum along his length. He grunted softly as his fist worked him for a moment, before he grabbed hold of your hips again.

His hand trailed up your back, gently shoving your body downward and urging you to arch your back. You swallowed down a whimper as his tip slid between your slit, gathering your slick on the tip of his cock.

He teased you a few times by thrusting through your folds, making you whimper out and clench around nothing again. Another mocking chuckle escaped his throat. "Okay, I'm done teasing."

His tip aligned with your entrance, and you bit down on your lip as he dug his fingers into the plump flesh of your hip, easing himself inside of you.

"Fuck–" he huffed, "You are tight."

His explicit words made you moan out as your cunt throbbed, pulling him deeper into you. He withdrew slightly, making you whimper. "C-Charlie... p-please..." you pleaded.

He hummed in response before slamming his hips into yours, making you cry out at the sudden intrusion that seared between your legs. He repeated the action, groaning as you whined again.

Once he bottomed out inside of you he gripped your hips, pulling you against his length as he thrust in and out of you.

"Sh-Shit-!" you panted.

He filled you up so well, his cock nestled itself perfectly in your pussy, taking up all the room you offered him–which compared to his size–wasn't much.

"Language." he hissed through his teeth, ramming his hips sharply into yours again, making you cry out at the force.

He found rhythm, methodically unsheathing from you before thrusting in again. "God–you feel so good." he praised, squeezing at your hips.

Your brows knit as he hit spots of you no guy ever had before, all thanks to the sheer size of him. His cockhead nestled itself against your cervix, prodding it insistently.

His hands wrapped around your waist, moving toward your lower tummy where he felt himself inside you. "Filling you up so good, aren't I?" he hummed.

"F-Fuck... Charlie..." you moaned, earning another hiss through his teeth as a response. "I need to fill that filthy mouth of yours."

He hastily shoved his middle and ring finger into your mouth, making you gag at the intrusion before humming against them. "There... isn't that better?"

You whined in reply, sucking on his digits as you rocked your hips in pace with his, your brows knitting again in pleasure.

The drag of his hips was agonizing, and every time he withdrew your cunt clamped down around him, not wanting him to leave you. He groaned every time you pulled him back in, driving his fingers deeper into your mouth again making you gag once more.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth, quickly placing them on your waist, "Turn around, I need to see that pretty face." He simultaneously pulled out of you, making you whine as a brief emptiness settled over your insides. He spun you around so you now faced him, leaning against your arms for leverage, and he wasted no time to bury his cock deep inside you again.

He watched as your eyes nearly shut and your brows furrowed together, absolutely drunk on his dick. He leaned forward, placing sloppy open-mouthed kisses on your breast, keeping one hand on your hip as the other kneaded at your opposite. He groaned against your flesh, his hot breath exhaling from his nose as it dug softly against you.

He pulled away from your chest, moving his lips up to your neck as he fucked into you. "You're absolutely gorgeous like this–" he panted against your skin. You could only moan in response. "You take me so, so well."

You were already teetering on the edge of ecstasy, which you hardly ever did off pure penetration, but he hit every fucking mark.

You looked up at him rather pathetically, the knot in your core tightening incredibly as you looked at him. His brows were furrowed in focus, his forehead had a soft sheen of sweat, and his lips parted as he breathed heavily.

His already dark eyes looked black from being blown with lust as they caught yours and his lips curled into another smirk, eliciting a whimper from your throat. "You want to cum, is that it?"

Your mind was fuzzy from your impending orgasm and the sheer sight of him. You whimpered as a response. "No–use your words."

"P-Please!" you cried out, cheeks burning in embarrassment at your haste. He chuckled breathily, "Good…good girl."

Catching you by surprise he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before diving into your lips again. His thick fingers snaked between your legs, pads finding your clit again. You moaned against his lips, making him swallow down your noises as he drew tight organized circles against your bundle of nerves.

Your thighs trembled at the added pleasure. "Fuck! Charlie!"

His grip on your waist spared, still using his other hand to tease your clit, his fingers dove into your mouth again. "What did I say about that mouth, hmm?" His digits pressed against your tongue, gently pulling your mouth open as you panted around them.

Your walls clenched, the knot in your core unbearably tight. "C-Charlie-" you attempted to speak around his fingers but it came out all muddled. His eyes met yours beneath his heavy brow. "You gonna cum, gorgeous?"

You nodded, feeling his thrusts and fingers around your clit pick up pace–moving frantically–the fingers in your mouth prodding against your tongue as you moved your head. "Cum on my cock, pretty girl." he purred, his eyes hungrily staring into yours.

As if he'd uttered the magic words, the knot in your core unraveled and your arms that held you up shook as your vision blurred, waves of white flooding your brain as your crescendo hit.

You cried out, trembling in intensity as he pulled his fingers from your mouth, steadying you with his grip again. Your cunt throbbed against him, as he continued pace, chasing his own orgasm. You listened as his breath hitched in his throat, grunting between breaths and he quickly withdrew his fingers and pulled out of you, frantically taking himself in his hand as he stroked himself off.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and harshly pushed you to your knees, groans and expletives pouring past his lips. "Open." he ordered. You obliged, propping open your jaw as you looked up at him from your knees, looking between his hand pumping his cock and his face.

You watched as his chest stuttered, his tip twitching and he quickly used the grip on your hair to bury himself into your mouth–making you gag again and tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You could barely close your lips around his girth, but did you surely try your damnedest.

His essence flooded your tongue, overwhelming your tastebuds with sweet saltiness as he let out a strangled groan. You swallowed as best you could around him, which he bid you the courtesy of pulling from your mouth as you struggled against his size, but not for long before he pressed his tip to your lips again, making you clean him off.

You pulled him from your mouth with an obscene pop, before taking him in your hand and lapping your tongue along the underside of his cock, eyes looking up to him. He groaned at the feeling, prying open his eyes to peer down at you.

He released your hair, grabbing for your hand as he helped you to your feet before immediately smashing his lips against yours, tasting himself off your tongue. His hand smoothed over your ass again, reveling in the softness of your flesh before he pulled away.

"Rehearsals start Thursday at noon. Be there on time." he huffed as he shoved himself back in his pants. You stood speechlessly for a moment–recounting what just happened in your head. His eyes met yours, his brows raising slightly, "Do you understand?"

You quickly nodded your head, "Yes. Thursday, noon sharp." He smirked softly. "Good." He turned, grabbing ahold of your clothes and outstretched them to you.

You redressed, your skin burning in embarrassment as his eyes kept their focus on you. He only stopped looking at you once you pulled your jeans back up your waist, rebuttoning them.

He reared around his desk, grabbing the papers you'd given to him when you first arrived in the theater room, and he outstretched those to you too.

"I'm gonna make you one hell of a star." he hummed, shamelessly running his hand along your backside again as he saw you out of his office.

You bit your lip nervously, begging you weren't walking funny from your 'audition'.

"What time Thursday?" he called after you, making you spin on your heel. "Noon."

He grinned. "Perfect."

You bid him a smile as you spun back around, your mind racing as you left the building. If your audition consisted of Charlie burying his cock in you, you couldn't wait to find out what was in store for you during rehearsals.

#adcu #adam driver #adcu x reader #adcu smut #smut #charlie barber x you #charlie barber smut #charlie barber x reader #marriage story #whorecake fics

[sag3vrr]

WE GET MARRIED ( IN OUR HEADS ) // matty healy x reader

PART ONE

• proposal!!

• i am going to write the actual wedding in part two ‼️

• enjoy 💗

i listened to this song while writing ❤️

Your vacation in Greece had been a dream, everyday spent with Matty and filled with loads of new experiences and memories you know you’ll cherish forever. One of your favourites being when you went turtle spotting, and Matty couldn’t help but be mesmerised by the way your face lit up whenever you saw one stick it’s head out of the clear blue water.

So naturally, when you woke up on your last full day, it was bittersweet. Despite the fact it was just like all the other days - waking up in your boyfriends arms, in a beautiful hotel, the sea view window’s light beaming in brightly, making you groan slightly as you adjust to the brightness.

“Morning, love.” You hear his voice, accompanied with a little snigger.

You tilt your chin up to look at him, as he was sat up and sat on his phone.

“Morning.” You smile, and he puts his phone down to put his full attention on you, as always.

A hand rakes through your hair, before tucking the loose strands behind your ears.

You sit up to match his height, so you don’t have keep straining your neck to look at him. You sigh as you do so. “I can’t believe we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“I know, but we’ve been here for like… i don’t know. Ages? We’ve literally done almost everything we can do here. And i guess it’ll nice to be at home again.”

“Yeah. Yeah, no, you’re right.”

“I know i am.” He shrugs, earning him a swat on the arm.

“Oh, yeah, i miss our babies.” You pout and put your head on his shoulder.

“Our dog and two cats?”

“Do you think they miss us too?” Your chin lifts to make eye contact again.

“I’m sure they do, babe.” He giggles, leaning in and kissing your lips sweetly.

“Matty! That’s disgusting, morning breath.” You pull yourself away, manoeuvring to the edge of the bed to sit up.

“You know i’d kiss you with all the morning breath in the world!” He calls out as you walk over to the bathroom.

“Never say anything like that again.” You lean against the door frame, looking at him on the bed. You wonder how he always looks so good in the morning, hair tousled messily, curls all over the place, and eyes still drowsy.

“Wow, okay. Just trying to be romantic, but i guess you don’t want me.”

You laugh loudly as you turn on the bathroom light, your reflection in the large mirror the first thing you see. You smile to yourself as you stand there, in his shirt. A reminder that this is real.

“What’re we doing tonight?” You ask as you rummage through all your products you brought with you, only about 3 of them being Matty’s.

He hesitates, before speaking, but you think nothing of it. “Not much, think i booked that boat thing for today you wanted to do at 2pm. That’ll be a few hours, we’ll probably just go to the beach after. Then i’m taking you on a date tonight.”

“A date?” You grin, “what’s the special occasion?”

“Nothing much.” Your brushing your teeth when he answers, so you don’t see the look on his face, the sly and knowing smirk he always has when he’s hiding something exciting.

That evening, you walk together to the date, as hotel was near the restaurant he had booked for. You just hadn’t expected it to be the one on the sea front, that you had found yourself looking at multiple times as you walked past it during your holiday. But when you think about it, you know Matty would always go out of his way to make everything perfect.

“Matty, are you sure it isn’t too expensive?” You tell him, as you walk hand in hand towards the rather extravagant building, lit with lights beautifully. “You know i wouldn’t care if we didn’t go to some fancy place, right?”

“I know you wouldn’t, love, but just let me spoil you, yeah? We’re on holiday.” He smiles at you, squeezing his hand in yours ever so slightly.

The two of you wait at the entrance for a worker to come over, which is quite literally in seconds.

“Evening, hi,” Matty clears his throat. “I have a reservation at 8pm, its under the name Healy.”

The waiter nods, looking at his ipad for the name. “Yes, okay, It’s here. Follow me, please.”

You both follow him until you get to the end of the restaurant, the two person table next to a large window, a stunning sea view.

“Here are your menus,” he places them on the table as you take a seat. “Somebody will be over to take your orders shortly.”

“Thank you!” You tell him, as he walks away. “And thank you, too, Matty. This view is gorgeous.”

“Yeah? Knew you’d like it.” He smiles. “But don’t thank me just yet.”

“Yet?” You grin, “What have you got in store for us, Matty?”

“You’ll just have to find out, darling.” He has that signature smug look on his face as he shrugs his answer.

“You are full of surprises.” You laugh, shake your head and pick up the menu.

Your mouth was practically watering at the sight of the food as it came over, it was placed on the plate so spectacularly, you weren’t sure if you wanted to actually eat it.

You pick your phone up off the table to take a picture, snapping a quick one of matty too, as he drinks a sip of his wine.

“Oi!” He reaches over and snatches your phone off you, making you giggle, as he takes a picture of you.

You roll your eyes as you take it back, “Oh my god, that is such a bad photo.”

“You look stunning, love, don’t even start that right now.” He puts his hand on yours, thumb rubbing the back of yours soothingly.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” You chuckle.

“Oh, i know.” He gives you a wink before moving his hand to finally delve into the deliciously smelling food.

“God, i don’t know if i could even eat a dessert after that.” You groan and you put your fork down, the meal was fantastic, your plate now empty, but it definitely was filling.

He had finished before you, and was listing off all the desserts for you.

“Actually,” Your mind changes rather quickly, “That sundae sounds amazing. I’ll have one of those, please.”

“Of course, i think i’ll have one too.”

Your deserts came rather quickly, and they looked and tasted just as good as the menu described them to be.

After being immersed in it for so long, you finally look up and see Matty as focused as you were, and you chuckle when you see a blob of ice cream on his nose.

“Matty, love.” Your voice makes him look up instantly. “You’ve got a little something—”

You lean over to swipe it off his nose with your finger, and then licking it off your finger. “Ice cream.” You grin.

“How the hell have you finished it already?” He groans as he realises yours is basically empty. “You were the one that said you didn’t even know if you could have one!”

“I can finish yours, if you want.” You offer, an eyebrow raised.

He narrows his eyes, as you watch him internally decide. “Okay. Fine.” He pushes it over to you, “I physically cannot finish it.”

“You should’ve just shared mine, you know you can never finish deserts like this.”

“I might do. One day.”

You only hum in response, using the spoon to scoop up the remaining ice cream. You don’t even notice the phone in his hand until you look up as you put the spoon in your mouth — he’s taking a photo of you.

“Cheeky twat!” You scold, yet not really caring.

His chin is resting in his palm as he watches you finish the drink.

“What are you looking at, Healy?” You finally question it, and he only shrugs.

“I love you.”

It was quite random, but it still made your heart flutter and lip pout slightly as you felt an overwhelming rush of love for him.

“I love you too, and more.” The two of you intertwine your fingers on the table.

“Matty, our hotels that way, your going towards the beach.” You stand in place as he begins to walk left instead of right.

“I know. But you always said you wanted to experience the beach late at night, and it’s right here.” He explains.

He leads you along the sea front, and you think it’s even more beautiful at night than during the day. It’s quiet. Peaceful and calm. Only a few other people are here, a complete contrast to the usual loud and noisy families, with young children running around. Which of course is adorable, but being here with only Matty makes it all the more romantic.

The cool breeze in your hair is welcoming, compared to the heat you had been getting during the days, it was refreshing.

“It’s just breath taking, isn’t it?” You say, looking along to the the horizon in awe. “It’s kind of poetic, if you think about it.” The two of you have stopped walking now, halfway down the beach, surrounded by only sand. But you stood faced towards the water, oblivious and too deep in your thoughts to see what Matty was doing beside you. “How a place can be so busy, so hectic, only a few hours ago. People all over, The water splashing endlessly as people swim. The speed boats and turtle spotting boats people go on. And this be the same place as it is now. Not a splash in the sea in sight. Just calm waves flowing as they should do. There’s nobody yelling, screaming. It’s just the sound of the air and peace.”

You snap out of your thoughts when you realise Matty isn’t replying to you, and that you kind of trailed off a little too much there. So you turn to face him, only to not see his face. You look down.

You gasp loudly. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

He’s down on one knee, a small, ring box in his extended hand, open. The diamond shining brightly, begging for attention.

He’s smiling so sweetly at you, you feel you might collapse then and there.

“Darling,”

“Oh my God!” You yell, hand flinging over your mouth, before you mutter an apology and for him to carry on.

He laughs at your reaction, but carry’s on nonetheless. “I think its pretty obvious what i’m doing but… I had planned this whole speech in my head but now i’m actually here, looking at you, i cannot remember any of it, so i’m just gonna kind of wing it.” He takes a deep breath.

“I remember the first day we met so clearly, because it quite frankly was one of the best days of my life. You came into my life, and as soon as you did i never wanted you to leave. I don’t think i’ve ever met somebody who understands me so well, you just know me. You get me. And you’ve seen me at my absolute worst, times i didn’t know i would even get through, and you stayed. You stayed beside me the whole time and i feel like sometimes maybe you’re the reason i got through it all. I know i make jokes. I say stupid things, and i do… fuck up sometimes, and somehow you deal with me. But you’re the one thing i don’t want to mess up, ever. And God knows i’m gonna do everything i can to never fuck up anything, because i love you. I love you so much and i can’t imagine not being with you for the rest of my life.” His eyes are watering and a tear slips from his eye, and you feel overcome with emotion. “Because when i thought i’d loved people before, i wasn’t ready for how i feel right now, with you. It’s kind of funny, because George spoke to me about it. Told me he’s never seen me be so obsessed with someone. Because that’s what i am. I am obsessed with you and everything you do and i want it to be like that forever. I feel like i babbled on a bit there so i’m just gonna get on with it now.”

“My love, will you marry me?” He finally asks the question and you’ve never answered one so quickly.

“Oh my fucking God! Yes, Matty, obviously!” He springs up, taking the ring out of the box and placing it on your finger. “I love you so much. So fucking much.”

You basically jump into his arms, lips colliding messily in a messy and surge of love between the two of you. The box lay forgotten on the ground. Both his hands are on your face, caressing softly, while yours are wrapped around his neck, clinging on, as if to never let him go.

“I love you so much. This is so crazy, oh my lord.” You mutter again his mouth.

“I can’t believe i get to call you my fiancé.” He’s smiling so widely when you pull away.

“I could say the same for you.” You hug him tightly, face smushed against his chest as you let out all the waterworks.

“Hey, hey.” He pouts, lifting your head up to make you look at him. “Don’t cry, sweetheart, you’ll make me cry,” his brown eyes glistening.

You stifle a sniffly laughter, “Literally the best holiday ever.”

“Best surprise ever, more like.” He catches a tear as it slips from your eye, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “My surprises are the best.”

“Definitely. Best surprise ever.”

#1975 band #being funny in a foreign language #matty healy the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #Spotify

[aziulpre]

Fake and Real chronology/timeline in Ben 10 (ARCHIVE)

Every year I've to explain that the chronology of my comics is a real chronology of the series (I will explain it shortly) and it's always due to the question about Rook's age.

If you're a fan of my comics/drawings you need to read this, if you're just a Ben 10 fan you can read it if you want (It's just a curiosity).

Many take into account wiki fans but are wrong about the ages, Don't get me wrong, in AF they clearly have birthdays over the course of the series (14-15 to 16).

Well, the "fake chronology" it's a marketing thing. Ben will always be 16 (the crew talked about this too). It's like the character always wearing the same clothes or the characters never grow old.

In the end of AF Kevin mentions that he has a birthday (18) soon but in UA he is still 17 (in Omniverse he is still 17).

If we take into account the "real chronology", Kevin is 18 at UA and Gwen and Ben turn 17 during the series.

If we take into account the real timeline of Ben and Gwen being 18 in Omniverse and Kevin being 19, it makes sense for Gwen to go to college (because the characters don't grow in the fake timeline, the excuse is that Gwen skipped a few grades in high school).

About Ben, he probably finished high school and he didn't want to go to university (it makes sense because in previous series he almost never attended classes).

He was able to receive his honorary doctorate degree if he finished high school. Also it's logical that Ben is 18+ age in Omniverse because he is never at home and his parents don't say anything.

Compared to OG, in AF, UA and Omniverse you can see that a lot of time passes.

Well, now about Rook...

Hmm… I remembered that people didn't believe me that Rook is about 3 years older than Ben (that's why I share Derrick's old answer). Like same age than Charmcaster (IDK why some people think Rook is 24+).

Everyone doubts Charmcaster's age in Ben 10 OG, but due to being in high school and having little height difference with Gwen, she should be around 14 years old. In the reboot mention "22" on his kart, which would make sense that he would be that age at the end of the series in the real chronology (without Ben and Gwen being 16 infinity)

So in the cartoon "fake" chronology Rook was 19.

This mess is because the Revonnah are taller than humans (especially men). Shar and Ben are almost the same age (by logic, Shar is 1 year younger than Ben)

Easy:

Rook is similar in age to Charmcaster.

Shar is the age of Ben or less

Shim is the age of Jimmy or Future Ken. (12~14)

Rook Ben and Shi are the age of Ben kiddo (10~11)

This last one is more logical because Rook Ben says "I am two years older than Blonko was when he had his parting" "But to not have a name at my age? Unthinkable! They will be calling me "Old One" soon", If he mentions this it is because Rook Blonko lost his tail at an earlier age than usual (9). Shi and the others lost their tails at 10 yrs (10 is a symbolic age) in her first appearance (the production mistakenly animated her tail). So here "Rook Tales" 1 year or months has passed, Rook Ben is 11 (like Ben as a child in Omniverse), here Rook should already be 22 and Ben 19 in the real chronology. (If my memory serves me correctly, in one episode Grandpa Max mentions that Ben will have a birthday soon).

Well, so in the cartoon "fake" chronology Ben and Gwen is 16, Kevin 17 and Rook 19.

I'm doing this because many Fans agree with this, but I don't think anyone has made a thread about this with evidence. (There are many episodes and series, if I see the evidence again I'll add it here).

#ben 10 #ask #ben 10 omniverse

[twig-tea]

Get To Know Me Tag

Tagged by @telomeke @lurkingshan @my-rose-tinted-glasses @he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle and @hyeoni-comb thank you all! 💕

Do you make your bed?

I like a messy bed, it feels more welcoming to me somehow. The only time I make my bed is when I'm without heat and it's winter, then you gotta do it to keep in any residual warmth! But normally I'd rather keep everything loose.

What’s your favorite number?

I....don't think I have one? Is this a thing people have, how do you choose?

What is your job?

I manage a team of Product Owners in the Operations division of a multinational company. In other words, I go to a lot of meetings.

If you could go back to school, would you?

Absolutely not. Beyond the fact that I was formerly a substantive editor of university textbooks, which included both editing the textbook content and sometimes writing their ancillaries (tests, powerpoint slides, etc.) so it feels like I took first-year Sociology at least ten times, I just don't love formalized education. I love learning but on my own terms and at my own pace.

Can you parallel park?

I can't drive at all! Technically I learned how, took lessons and everything, but never got my license.

A job you had that would surprise people?

Hmm. I was a call center person for half a day, it was terrible and I left without getting paid for the work I did because I was so eager to get out of there I didn't want to fight them for my pay (even though I needed the money which is why I was there in the first place). I hate phone calls, I can't hear well on the phone, and it was clear the call center script was designed to be exploitative. It was one of the worst jobs for me I could have taken lol

Do you think aliens are real?

I think it's extremely likely!

Can you drive a manual car?

Nope, even when I learned, it was only on an automatic.

What’s your guilty pleasure?

I'm not guilty about it but I can decimate an entire family size mac and cheese when I'm feeling down.

Tattoos?

I have 3 tattoos; one on each foot and one on the back of my neck. They form a rainbow.

Favorite color?

Blue-green! The shade of preference for any given moment varies, but anything in the region from mint to aqua to teal to turquoise will do; I love them all.

Favorite type of music?

My music taste varies widely but the common denominators are 1) fast tempo or upbeat, 2) solid harmonies, and 3) if there's a tempo or key change I am doubly sold.

Do you like puzzles?

Love puzzles of all kinds. I have a collection of jigsaw puzzles I do regularly, and word puzzles, logic puzzles, sudoku type stuff is all very fun. I don't make a lot of time for them but I do them occasionally and always enjoy it.

Any phobias?

I am afraid of falling. Not heights, but falling. The difference is: I can lean over the railing at the top of a 20-storey building or walk on a glass floor over a big drop and just feel a minor thrill, but am terrified to the point of maybe crying if I have to balance on a single step of a ladder or walk across a patch of ice. I had several brushes with death related to falling when I was a kid, and a few bad falls that caused injury as an adult, so it makes sense. Luckily I am pretty tall so I rarely have to do any kind of ladder-ing!

Favorite childhood sport?

American-style tackle football. We used to play at lunch on the pavement because the soccer kids got the field; we played in all seasons including snow, and we did it for love of the sport. I loved it a lot.

Do you talk to yourself?

Occasionally I'll provide a little commentary on what's happening aloud to myself; but I don't really have fully conversations.

What movies do you adore?

I have loved a lot of movies in my time! A few random ones that come to mind right now because I've been thinking about them for whatever reason are Saving Face (2004), Monster (2023), Practical Magic (1998), Moonlight (2016), and Clue (1985).

Coffee or tea?

Despite my username being a type of tea, in this as in all things I am a perfect Kinsey 3. Love both equally and drink a ton of both (coffee more regularly, tea in greater volume).

First thing you wanted to be growing up?

Lifeguard, I think! And then when I was in elementary school I wanted to edit textbooks (I was that kid who got annoyed whenever there were mistakes), so I did actually get to do my childhood dream job.

No pressure tags just going with vibes based on who I've interacted with recently (if you've done this already tag me in the comments!): @rocketturtle4 @visualtaehyun @sollucets @troubled-mind @jimmysea @ginnymoonbeam

#tag game #thank you for tagging me #typed so that i can stop thinking it

[clonerightsagenda]

It is Wolf 359 day (also known as Christmas for some) and since I saw a stoat photoset on my dash I feel compelled to post about daemon hcs.

Eiffel - Word of God is raccoon, and it fits. The poor thing probably looks like she has mange during the season 2/3 timeskip, since there's no way astronauts are stuffing their daemons in spacesuits - they must have to go through some kind of pre-mission training to lengthen their range. They are not trained to get blasted lightyears apart though, rip. That's gotta hurt. Once he's recovered from his ordeal though I'm sure he takes advantage of their massively extended range to cause problems. There's no way I stole those donuts from the Urania's stores, commander! I was here in the comms room the whole time.

Minkowski - white-tailed eagle. This bird is found in Poland, and some versions of the Polish flag have a white eagle. It's also similar to but not exactly like a bald eagle - showing how Minkowski aspires to assimilate into Americanness but can't completely abandon her Polish heritage. Plus pilot = bird, it tracks.

Hilbert - rosencrantz-draws-things did a series of daemon paintings for the characters and while I don't agree with all their choices, I did like chameleon for him. He changes roles and faces when he needs to, whatever helps him survive.

Lovelace - The painting series I referenced gives her lioness, which I don't hate, although the logistics are a bit messy for a space station environment. Given the backstory I've envisioned for her I kind of want to spend more time reading about Puerto Rican fauna and get back to you on this one. How does the daemon situation work with her being a surrogate? Unclear but it sure keeps her up at night!

Maxwell - Ferret! The wonder twins have mustelid vibes to me, and I am always charmed by the story of the ferret who cleaned out the tubing of a particle accelerator.

Jacobi - Stoat to match Maxwell. They are the mustelid twins now. It just feels right.

Kepler - idk I don't care about him.

Pryce - Coconut octopus. Something a little bit unusual and unexpected, requires specialized care and upkeep, and octopi are extremely intelligent, with this species actively modifying its situation via tool use. She can carry him around in his own special tank.

Cutter - I never settled (lol) on anything for him, but given I like the idea of him bodyhopping (this has been thoroughly debunked by Word of God but oh well) I imagine that he keeps around the old body's severed daemon as a smokescreen. This leads to a very animated, lively guy with a strangely inert, unfocused daemon which makes him even more unsettling to everyone. He's impossible to read.

Hera - I saved her for last because she's a special case. When AI reach sentience a block of code just pops up in their programming, and that's their daemon. They're not physical in the same way humans are - why would their soul be? However, product testing indicated humans preferred to see something daemonlike, so customer-facing AIs get holographic projections of cute, non-threatening animals like puppies or songbirds. Hera has a bird until Hilbert takes her offline. When she comes back, she has control over the projection and can make it look however she wants. It's not actually her daemon but she can use it to express herself in a similar way, including projecting her humansona, which scares the crap out of people the first few times they see a random stranger on board.

Daemons in microgravity would be their own headache. I imagine crewmembers get velcro pouches on their uniforms or toolbelts sized for their daemons to keep them from floating away. Smaller daemons are preferable in the same way that there's a height range for astronauts - this is why I'm conflicted about Lovelace. Also, you know I am a #hater of 'daemon touching = sex' in AU settings and believe there are multiple kinds of intimacy, and spaceflight involves everyone getting real cool about a lot of stuff real quickly, so I think by season 3 Minkowski and Eiffel at least are hanging on to each other's daemons when they're out on spacewalks both for convenience and emotional support. (Eiffel is still stressed out about it but more because he is really bad at holding a raptor and scared of getting slashed by talons.) Hera occasionally perches her projection on their shoulders which again doesn't mean the same thing to her but gets the message across. If Jacobi is working on something fiddly Maxwell will be wearing both their daemons around her neck, and vice versa.

Bob does not appear with a daemon while wearing his Eiffel suit. The alternative would probably be more upsetting.

#wolf 359

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

hi sea, hope you're doing well!

so, i haven't really been here for a while because life happened but I found myself wondering recently, how is everything going here? from what I've seen louis looks really good and happy these days and he's joining a bunch of festivals? exciting things!

Hi there!

In terms of Louis’ trajectory— the general direction of his career— 2023 has been the best year for him ever. Including in 1D.

Louis released FITF, an album that went to Official Charts #1 in the UK, Billboard #5, and many top tens internationally.

After the 80-show world tour last year (2022), Louis then booked the biggest solo tour he’s done so far. FITFWT 2023 had 79 shows + AFHF. Louis played some of the same venues that 1D played at the height of popularity, and sold out the O2 Arena in London.

28 Clothing began selling products this year. The choice to partner with Hype Beast for the limited runs is on brand and very smart marketing. Using a separate marketing firm for 28 was also a great idea.

Louis will probably have one of the largest merch sales this year, all while keeping his prices average (for tour merch). At Matt Vines’ estimate of $38 per person on tour, he will have sold about (conservatively) $10 million in tour merch this year, not counting 28 Clothing. I estimate revenue for tour tickets to be around $14 million (assuming about 250k tickets for FITFWT 2023 at $55 per).

Even if these aren’t the biggest numbers, Louis’ cumulative achievement comes from many years of stop-and-start disruptions, much hard work and heartache, and— initially— some very hopeful, loyal, diehard fans who kept waiting for him and encouraging him.

The achievements also feel authentically won, as the biggest radio stations in the UK and USA are still blacklisting Louis from the airwaves. He might come on Jimmy Fallon and iHeart, but it’s rare to hear his music on radio— which translates to few streaming playlists. BMG UK also treats Louis like a catalogue artist and relies on fans’ word-of-mouth for promo. So for so many fans to show up for him at the concerts really means genuine interest, real love.

In addition, Louis is being nominated by some mainstream music media, like Rolling Stone UK and Billboard, for legitimate awards (Best Tour Act for RSUK, Best Music Documentary for Billboard). It reminds me of the start of his solo career in 2017-18, when Louis was up for awards like iHeart’s Breakout Solo Artist, Best UK/ Ireland solo act, and other awards, instead of simply being shut out as in 2019-22.

My opinion is that RSUK and Billboard have nominated Louis to harness the social media power of his fans and draw more attention to their awards (once again, free PR), especially since the Billboard award is fan-voted. However, attention to the awards also keeps Louis’ name in their publications.

Finally, yes!!! Festivals!

So far Louis has been booked in festivals only in Mexico, the UK, and Europe, but this is also where his audience has the highest concentration. The choice to do festivals with rock and indie acts makes sense, because Louis is already friends with many current acts (and has toured with several) and there’s potential for the audience to cross over. Listening to Faith In The Future, I would say that Louis can still go further in an indie sound. He loves his big pop choruses — bless— but he can convert them to rock, not just in instrumental arrangement but in spirit. To me, Back To You isn’t really a rock song and it doesn’t sound like a rock song no matter what, but it is fun. The festivals are a good way to test his music and go further. All around him are inspirations.

(It’s also inspirational to see people like The Snuts going out on their own label. Much food for thought.)

Also in terms of business structure, Louis and Matt Vines invested in OpenStage, a business that taps into direct-to-consumer marketing for artists via social media and texting. It’s too early to know whether this company is the “pirate” that bypasses big music labels, radio, and streaming services to sell to and connect to fans directly, or whether it will get bought out by a big PR firm or killed by competition. However, Louis has been doing independent festivals, playing at independent music venues, promoting smaller and indie artists, thinking about managing these artists and starting an indie label for years. These are early steps for Louis to establish a presence outside of traditional music industry.

[killjillart]

[Replika Overview: JFKR]

'Jungfernkranich' - (Jill's Five-star Killer Replika 'Demoiselle crane') Type: "Generation J Galactic Takeover Specialist" Frame: Biomechanical with carbon fiber-reinforced Polythylene Shell Height: 245 cm

[MORE INFO BELOW]

CLASSIFIED INFORMATION - Commander Eyes Only [The following report is of an unauthorized Replika whose production is not affiliated with The Eusan Nation. They are made using stolen technology, and due to this sensitive information, this fact is not to be relayed to low-ranking officials. The information herein is incomplete, and relays everything that is currently known about this Replika model. To pre-emptively respond to inquiries on the nature of its titles, these are the official titles given by the creator of this model.]

JFKR units originate from an unknown faction who appear to be from another solar system entirely, with technology that is neither Nation or Empire make. In all of their self-absorbed bravado, JFKR units are incredibly dangerous and not to be taken lightly.

Jungfernkranichs are armed to the teeth; they are equipped with swords that appear to be made of concentrated energy, and also are armed with sidearms that fire beams which use a discharged version of this energy. They are able to make quick work of other Replika units that do not have adequate defenses, and so it is imperative to deal with them using coordinated decisive attacks.

JFKR units are incredibly full of themselves. Their egos haven't been observed to clash with one another as they seem to share a certain togetherness, but they can be provoked by outside forces into irrational actions. Their anger is dangerous however, and should only be considered as a plan of action if it is sure that their lapse in critical judgment can be capitalized on.

[INTERNAL DOCUMENT]

JFKR units are based off of me, the baddest bitch that's ever graced this solar system! With technology stolen from one of the warring factions in this system, we were able to create a way for me to proliferate endlessly (given we have the materials, which we do)! Just like me, they're beautiful and skilled in the art of killing. They're armed with dual beam swords and a laser gun sidearm, just in case things get a little impersonal. They tear ass through basically anything except those real big armored units, they just require a little more love and care. With these skills, they will help accelerate our mission of leaving only those who love us! <3

Reports have told us that it's possible for Replika personalities to destabilize and to deteriorate, and thankfully it seems we're all in the same boat that it's great to be 'Jill'. We're all a different Jill, but a Jill nonetheless! They seem to like their bigger bodies too, I almost get a little jealous! That said, there are a few issues we've run into, and there are a few things to avoid.

Now, you know me, I'm a very proud woman. I'm proud to be me, and I'm proud to have other 'me's! However, when our pride is challenged or someone feels like they have any sort of ground to belittle us on, it's over for them! Usually it's fine, we're damn good in a fight, but it seems like they've begun intentionally provoking us into bad positions.

We also tend to not do so hot if someone isn't telling us we're beautiful. This is usually not a problem since we send out small squads of JFKR units together and we can be pretty self-sufficient, but if one of us is alone for too long in too hostile of an environment without the means to properly take care of ourselves, we'll start to fall apart. We're meant to be loved, after all.

To properly maintain JFKR units, it is imperative that they be given the love and attention that they deserve! JFKR units can sustain each other, but please give them the same respect that you'd give patient zero (me). Also, as a bonus, it has been observed that other Replika units are lacking in certain bits of functionality, so we have given them extra capabilities that other Replika do not have. Ask a JFKR unit to see what I mean! ;^)

~Jill <3

#SIGNALIS #OC #original #fanart #Jill #digital #original character #my art #JFKR #jungfernkranich

[silverskye13]

That xisuma fic was absolutely incredible! If you have any more specific headcanons about android!X I would love to hear them! The idea is amazing and you wrote it so well!

Hai-yo! I'm glad you liked the writing snippet! ^_^

Oh boy, headcanons. How dare you make me organize my thoughts! Let's see.

Android!X is a server that one day decided to stop running in the background. Where I think most of the hermits were "born" on a home world that they can return to, it's more like Xisuma goes into his own mind. Similarly, if someone were to plot a course in the universe to Xisuma's home world, they'd just end up standing in front of him. [I feel like this also means between seasons X just kinda floats like a spaceman in hyper sleep through the void, go you funky little robot go!]

His body is made of circuitry and nanobots? In a way that isn't in any way functional to real life. But it's like he's a beehive almost. He has a living, moving body, but it's built for finesse and life-like expression. That kind of detail needs constant maintenance, so he has a fleet of little drone nanobots constantly doing repairs.

On that note, I think metallic/cybernetic/redstone components don't respawn like organic matter does on death. If it takes damage, it has to be repaired. Hermits like Doc are only mildly hampered by this, since any time his mechanics break, only parts of him are out of commission. For X though, anything that doesn't kill him outright has to be repaired. His nanobots help this, especially with small bits of damage accrued throughout the day, but anything that does significant damage requires him to power down to focus on repair and rebuild, where his nanos can run rampant while he rests. [He's never not productive though. Normally he uses this time to catch up on writing memory transcripts and other general internal housekeeping.]

Android!X is functionally smart but because everything he's ever done has had to be coded, a lot of things slip between gaps in his logic. He's a very smart computer, but he's still a computer. Common sense things slip between the cracks because common sense on regular people is mostly pattern recognition and intuition. Xisuma's only intuition is something he's hand-written in a table in a file somewhere. If he's never had to write/code it, and it's unique enough to not show up in a basic dictionary/archive search, it's a blind spot for him. He can query and in a millisecond give you data facts about the deep dark and still forget that the clicking noise his thinking pattern makes would attract a Warden. This also means he sometimes has weird hang ups in social situations sometimes. Yeah sure, Etho and BDubs are having the same friendly debate from last week, but this time BDubs is 30% louder [possible difference in altercation severity?] and Etho is on hazardous ground [standing on scaffolding, increasing height, personal endangerment? Posturing? Intimidation technique?], which means this situation is actually totally different and he's never coded protocols for it. He's gotten pretty good at reading other people's reactions to gauge his own, but when he's alone, he sometimes has an error he's affectionately labeled a "social short circuit". Good thing they're all hermits and understand when he sometimes just... walks away from things.

Even X doesn't know where his emotions come from. He knows he can augment them [He has a database for complex feelings like "happy and also sad" and "lonely but content", as well as for tonally dissonant scenarios like "feel worried when Cleo says 'its fine'."] and he has on a handful of occasions been able to shut them down when he was too overwhelmed or in a tense situation. But he has no idea where the emotions originally came from, and his ability to control their intensity [and turning them off] is so non-existent it's nearly random.

Xisuma has been trying to code a way to feel pain for a long time. Most of the hermits think he's crazy when he talks about it, but he thinks it would cut back on a lot of his time spent on damage assessment. It's much easier to tell if something is broken if you can feel it break. Currently his only indication something is wrong is if a circuit is actively frying or something stops working -- or if his nanos sniff it out.

Xisuma doesn't eat, but he tells his friends he eats redstone. It cuts back on some of the unnecessary worry about his well-being. It also means when they think he's distressed, they leave him little gifts of redstone, and he finds that endearing.

Xisuma likes to dress up his cybernetics. It started out with trying new paint jobs and slowly escalated to building new body casings with fancy cosmetics. He's very proud of his bone mage cosplay. The little dragon helmet has glowy-eyes and smoke comes out of its nose and everything. Tango, Joe and Cleo like to help him design things, and he lets Doc and Grian go ham trying to stress test [ie ruthlessly destroy] the parts to make sure they're durable before he commits to a design.

And that's about all I've got for now I think!

#answering asks #the barking writer #xisuma #android!xisuma #robot!xisuma #savviathan #long post #longpost #woe! my headcanons be upon ye!

[ikroah]

Wherever I have gone, wherever I've been and gone, wherever I have gone, the blues are all the same —“Blues Run the Game,” Jackson C. Frank (1965)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #23 - Ring-a-Ding-Ding II

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Read IKROAH on Archive of Our Own

Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

Let’s talk about two things.

The first thing is burnout. It’s hilarious in retrospect that the notes on the previous issue open with an apology that it’s been three months since the preceding issue, which given that this current hiatus lasted six months, lmao. As I’ve mentioned before and elsewhere, shortly after completing the previous issue of IKROAH, the toll of working on it and other projects so industrially for two years finally caught up with me, and by May I basically had a kind of flip turn where suddenly, I could not stand my own art. More than that, I was repulsed by the very act of drawing, of making. Too many self-imposed deadlines, too many long nights churning comics out in as few sessions of work as possible, too many other things that I wasn’t giving myself enough time for. Something had to give, and when it did, I could barely hold a pencil for months without just getting really angry. I wish that I could say that there was something specific that I did to overcome this feeling, but there wasn’t: I can only attribute wanting to draw again to spending a long time not drawing at all, a time in which I tried to basically forget through disuse all of the bad habits that I’d ingrained about making myself make art. Art is an important hobby and creative outlet to me, but sometimes, you really just need to step away from something for a relatively long time so that you can come back to it with a much healthier mindset. And that’s what I’ve done. Thank you all for being so patient with me during IKROAH’s first real hiatus. There have been “hiatuses” in the past but, for example, one thing that I definitely had to strip out of myself was the anxiety and the guilt that I would feel when IKROAH would go on “hiatus” because more than three weeks or so passed between issues. I had myself on an absolutely insane production schedule for no reason except believing that getting every issue out as fast as possible was paramount. When I first began this comic with issue #1, I thought I could do one issue every two weeks. This was colossally stupid and going in as naive as I did with this mindset was like ingesting a slow-acting poison. IKROAH issues come out whenever they come out and that’s that from now on, and I feel silly because no reader of the comic has ever acted entitled to anything but that anyway.

The second thing I want to talk about is my art itself. My burnout had a point, especially with IKROAH, which is that there are some things about my art that is very frustrating. Did you know that the reason that IKROAH pages are the size that they are (1080 x 1678 px) is because I draw them two-per-sheet-of-paper at 13cm x 21cm each, and 1080 pixels is twice the width of the (possibly outdated) maximum display width of an inline image on the dashboard, and a height of 1678 pixels matches the aspect ratio of the best way that I could digitize my images at the time, which was by taking a picture of my art the best that I could with my phone in good lighting? This was the standard that I set for myself in summer of 2020 and for some reason I decided that it was etched in stone. I made some small improvements over time, such as finally buying a scanner sometime around IKROAH #12, and then changing IKROAH’s dialogue font and switching to digital paneling in #22, but this is going to be the final issue that abides by that old, absurdly small page size. I have finally reached my breaking point in this issue with how it completely prevents me from drawing fine or distant detail, so this is the final issue that is going to be at this size. Were it not for the fact that pre-burnout I hadn’t already drawn the first two pages of this issue and had formatted the paneling and lettering already for this specific size, I probably would have gone bigger already!

IKROAH has been, for the most part, an artistic playground where I’ve honed my skills and experimented with the comic book form gleefully. Compare the art from the first few issues with the more recent ones to see that development in action. But for all of this development and experimentation, why have I felt like page size is unassailable? I can’t tell you for sure what the “new” page size is going to be, because while I have a larger size in mind, it’s another experiment, not a promise of consistency. I used to think that it was easier and faster to work small because smaller art meant less art, but I’m finally sure that it’s more trouble than it’s worth. Now, I’m extremely excited for what a much larger canvas will mean for the look of the comic, and for the rest of Volume 2, I’m sure that you’ll be able to see me experimenting artistically in some way with every issue.

Original Pencils

Unfortunately, due to the way in which this issue was inked, I don’t have the complete original pencils to share with you! I would draw and ink panels one-by-one instead of penciling the whole page first. This is because I my burnout was actually triggered, essentially, by fucking up the inks on the first page after penciling it and feeling sure that I would have to redraw it, and that making me so mad that I couldn’t bear to reapproach my art at all. I didn’t want to make that mistake again, so I went through the rest of the pages with a lot more caution. Still, I can show you some scans.

One major thing that made working on all but the first two pages was finally investing in real non-copy blue pencils instead of blue colored pencils. Real non-copy blue pencils lack the waxiness of colored pencils, making them draw much lighter, erase much cleaner, and generally behave much more like regular pencils that just happen to be blue. It’s been a godsend for my ability to ink more expressively, and I’m experimenting with inking and coloring styles are going to be my favorite part of the rest of Volume 2, because I think that that is something that I want to overhaul the most.

Also, one funny thing: if there was a significant reason why I made Benny’s suite number 1007, I have forgotten it. Just like how I must have forgotten in the writing and penciling of this issue that Benny’s suite is canonically on the thirteenth floor. Oops! Well, not in this canon it’s not.

I do have one complete pencil sketch to show you: IKROAH’s first ever two-page spread! Bang!

Transcript

EXT. THE TOPS CASINO, NEW VEGAS. The Tops’ signature sign shines brightly outside the entrance, brightly even for Vegas.

INT. THE TOPS CASINO, NEW VEGAS. Casino guests hustle and bustle around the main floor, checking in, heading to and from the cashier on the second floor, and mingling. Leaning against a rail overlooking the slightly sunken gaming area is AGNES SANDS. She stares intently and furiously toward the back of the room, where an older man is laughing with a younger man. The younger man is drinking a martini, wears a black-and-white checked suit jacket, and is oblivious to her presence.

AGNES thinks to herself as she watches him.

Hello, Benny.

Her eye narrows.

You’d think that getting shot in the head would be the worst thing to ever happen to somebody, but at this point in my life, I’m genuinely not sure.

On the casino floor, a RED-HAIRED WOMAN seems to accidentally bump into BENNY from behind, knocking his drink out of his hand. It shatters on the ground, and he turns angrily to face her.

When I was six years old, my father died from a bad fall. He was a caravaneer, so they never shipped his body home.

ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY stands in front of Benny, clutching a nearly empty glass of whiskey. She raises her hand up to her faced, shocked and embarrassed. BENNY is just as surprised, and even more so when CASS takes his face in one hand and suggests that he come with her to refill her glass.

My mom was our town’s doctor, so after that, she decided to apprentice me as her nurse. I was still just a kid.

She was right to do it. It takes a long time to learn medicine, and it’s a useful skill. She knew it’d do me good.

CASS hurriedly leads BENNY by the hand toward the casino bar. As the pair brush past AGNES, she pickpockets BENNY’s key, and holds it up to glean the room number from its tag: 1007. Satisfied, she drops the key on the ground, and heads for the elevators. Just behind her, CASS points out that BENNY seems to have dropped his keys, and he reacts with relief.

But she was hard, as a teacher. Maybe even more so as a mother. Maybe she had to be.

AGNES’ elevator slowly ascends. First floor to the tenth.

Maybe I wouldn’t have started messing around with locks if I didn’t get it in my head to act so damn rebellious later on. I broke in somewhere I shouldn’t have. Found something I shouldn’t have. I was thirteen.

I had to put my own face back together right there on the concrete floor. Held it in place with duct tape, and two-hundred year old bandages. Pre-war.*

*As depicted in IKROAH #7 and the IKROAH Vol. 1 Special Delivery companion story, “Scar Tissue.”

Ding! The elevator arrives and the door opens.

I still can’t even shave without getting a cold sweat.

Back on the casino floor, CASS and BENNY have it it off. They’re smiling and laughing at the bar, several drinks deep.

Meanwhile, AGNES stalks toward Room 1007.

My mom was happy I was alive, but didn’t care whether I was okay, if that makes sense. She was always like that.

It’s why we fought when she found out about...me, when the changes from the hormones I’d been sneaking got...unignorable.

The lock is easy to pick for practiced hands. It opens with a CLICK. The door swings open and AGNES stands in the doorway, assessing the area.

I wonder what your mother would think of this. What she must have been like. Whether she’s even alive now. I wonder if she loved you, her baby boy, a killer in cold blood.

Eventually, we fought. Physically, I mean. It was a long time coming. I hit her hard, once, and that was it. It was over.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget what that felt like. Maybe I’m not one to talk.

Time passes.

BENNY returns to his suite and puts his keys in the lock.

I ran away to the NCR after that. I was an adult now, and had to start over. And I needed skills that my mom couldn’t have taught me. I thought I’d be a combat medic, out in the field. But no. No, no. Of course not.

BENNY opens his door, looking exhausted and covered in kiss marks. Looks like somebody really wore him out. He shuffles over to his bedroom.

They shipped me to some do-nothing recon station way up north in California, near Gecko. And from the minute I set foot there, my C.O. fucking hated me.

He abused me, berated me, blamed me, because I took his old friend’s position or something. Stupid petty bullshit like that.

I think that he was sabotaging my medical supplies. Messing with my work, trying to get me discharged.

There’s no other way he could have found my estrogen from home.

BENNY undresses in his bedroom, and then flops onto his bed.

Just another thing for him to scream at me about. Or it would have been.

AGNES enters the bedroom.

Never got any military police after me when I attacked him with a scalpel that night and ran.

Maybe he couldn’t cover up his own bullshit well enough, so he just kept his mouth shut. Doesn’t matter. Lucky me.

AGNES rifles through BENNY’s jacket, which he hung on a coatrack near the door.

I ran to New Reno. I’d deserted. The only job I could get was at a charity clinic run by one of the crime families there, and it was dismal. I couldn’t afford to live.

So I started picking locks again. Pockets, too. Got real good at it, too. You’d know.

AGNES’ eyes fixate on something. She’s pulled it out of his coat.

I was stealing to survive. Same dance, different song. Nevermind my hormones, I needed food and shelter. I’d never felt lower.

The Platium Chip.

I was casing one of the casinos there when I saw a man get glassed. I was still a doctor. Still had that oath. So I went to work, and saved the man’s life right there. His name was Yancy Bishop and he made my life a living hell for six long years.*

*IKROAH #12.

Until I killed him.

Something else catches AGNES’ attention in BENNY’s bedroom. Something on his nightstand. A gun.

He came to me helpless in surgery and I ripped him apart from the inside out, thrilled, exhilarated, terrified of myself.

AGNES approaches the nightstand. She picks up the gun.

And after that...I ran away again. Ran until I got to the Mojave. Ran until I fumbled into being a courier. Making deliveries, always running, but not a doctor anymore, not stealing to survive, just some stability in my life for once. For once. And then:

It’s the same gun that BENNY shot her with.

She turns to face BENNY.

You.

AGNES removes the 9mm bullet that she has been wearing around her neck since she left Goodsprings; a bullet made partly from the lead that was fished out of her own skull.

You are not special.

She loads the gun. As quietly as she can.

I’ve been dealing with people like you my entire life. My mother. My C.O. The Bishops...

...your Khans, McLafferty, the Van Graffs...have I killed more people in the last week than you have in your whole...

AGNES approaches BENNY’s bed. She gets one shot.

...was I the only one, Benny? And you couldn’t even do it right. I clawed out. An ugly life, too ugly to kill, even with a gun to my head. Your gun. This gun.

She raises the gun. She aims with both hands. Bodies are easier to hit than bottles.

Rigged from the start—is that what you’d said? You piece of shit. You look like you have everything, have been given everything. So you just had to rub it in, that night. Didn’t you.

AGNES scowls. Her brow furrows with rage.

Always been too big of a target. Too tall, too wide, too mannish. Never been beautiful. Never even got to be handsome, like you. Then you shoot my eye out, butcher me even more—and all for what? A mail-order tchotchke!?

The gun gleams in the sparse light.

I’m going to fucking kill you.

AGNES’ expression shifts.

I’ve killed so many people to get to you.

Her hands start to shake. The gun is heavy in them.

And...and now I’m going to kill you.

Sweat is beading on her face.

Because of what you did to me. Because I can’t sleep at night. Because of you. I don’t sleep, most nights, because of you.

AGNES grimaces as her whole body trembles.

So I’ll kill you, with the fucking gun you killed me with, then I won’t be so...

The gun. The gun. The gun--

I’ll...I’m—

Her eye is wide with terror.

Oh God.

AGNES stands alone in the dark in the bedroom of the man that she has planned to kill. The gun is in her hands. Tears stream down her face, frozen in grief. The gun is in her hands.

BENNY is awake. He has been awake. He is sitting up in his bed. He is staring at her staring at him.

The gun is in her hands.

AGNES fires the gun.

SFX: BANG

#fallout #fallout new vegas #courier six #benny gecko #rose of sharon cassidy #the tops #new vegas #ikroah archive #volume 02 #23

[beloved-daydreams]

Folktober2023 Prompt: "Accidental summoning" 🫢🌿

An attempt by

Hosted by @jurdannetrevels and @jurdannet

📘 1500+ words

😎 Characters: Jude, Cardan

✒️ Tags: Jurdan, wholesome, fluff, "training", cute idiots, post TQON

📢 Summary: Cardan is helping Jude, training her to get a better hang of her powers. She isn’t so successful though, until Cardan tries to take another approach...

✏️✏️✏️

"Try again." Cardan urges me.

The look he's giving me is, I suppose, what he believes to be an encouraging one but all it does is make me even more frustrated. It's not like I don't want to do it, in fact I've done something even more amazing with it before: I’ve saved a life. Two even, if I count mine. Yet standing here, in front of him, fully aware of all of my movements, it's just different. I feel shy and then stupid for feeling shy.

We made a deal. I'll teach him how to wield a sword, he'll teach me how to use my newly acquired powers. He told me it was a bit different from regular magic since we are "linked" to the land, whatever that means, but because he has had magic flowing through him since he was born, getting the hang of this power wasn't that difficult. Me however…

"Listen, maybe I should just… find a teacher who's actually specialized in teaching magic."

Cardan raises his eyebrows at me, a bit vexed I imagine.

"Really? I didn't think I'm quite so bad at teaching that you would need to go look for someone else."

I put my hands on my hips and turn away from him, rolling my eyes. I can't help it. Everything just gets harder in front of Cardan. I know I shouldn't feel embarrassed about being incompetent but I don't want him to see that side of me. Which is ridiculous, since he has already seen me on the brink of death. If that isn't the height of incompetence then I don't know what is.

"That's not what I mean. I just think it might be better to learn from someone more skilled, I mean, I'm practically a sword master but you're not especially known for your magical affinity-"

I sneak a glance at him and he has that same look on his face. The raised eyebrows that say: "Oh, so I'm not worthy of teaching you? You think you're so great? That you can teach me but you can't learn anything from me in turn because I'm too untalented for your liking?"

I sigh. Or more like, I force the air out of my nose.

"Okay, no. What I meant is- I feel like we're losing time and maybe both of us would rather do something more productive and efficient. I'm sure you're great, it's just, I'm having trouble with something I've never had. Does that make sense?"

Finally, he lets his eyebrows drop back to their usual place. I feel relieved at having managed to word my thoughts out better. Somehow, we've always been great at misunderstanding each other and I'd like to stop that trend, both of us would actually, I think.

Cardan approaches me, his steps are light but his gaze carries a heaviness I recognize. As I thought, he embraced me from behind, placing his chin up on my head, arms around my waist. Without any resistance, I let him wrap himself around me like a needy pet snake would.

"Time spent with you is never wasted. Do you feel like it's a waste to be with me?"

Finally, he lets his signature move sway me as it always does. His tail that I now find to be an irresistibly cute trait of his, zigzags around my leg.

"...No. I'm just worried you'll get bored of me being unable to do something you've been able to do naturally your whole life."

He chuckles. And I realize again, that for him time isn't as consequent as it is to me. Maybe he's the one more worried of being a waste of time, knowing that my time might be more limited than his.

"You're putting too much pressure on yourself. To channel magic, you need to be in touch with your inner world. To-"

"-materialize the mind and heart into the real world. I know."

I realize I sound bitter, yet I can feel his smile widen. He tilts his head to the side, now resting his cheek on my head.

"Well. Let me guide you entirely then. Give your mind to me, put it under my control."

Putting his possessive tone aside, for a split second I wonder if he means glamoring me and I'm about to remind him that I can't be glamored but he unwraps his arms from around my waist and places them on the sides of my arms, caressing them up and down in a reassuring manner. And then his low and hushed voice makes its way to my ears, I realize that if it's Cardan, he doesn't need to glamor me. His soft-spoken voice and gentle touch would be enough to get almost anything out of me.

"Close your eyes, relax your shoulders… Mh-hm. Good. Do the same for your jaw, don't press your teeth against each other, let them separate. Now feel the earth beneath you, breathe the air that is always full of its pollen…"

That's the voice he uses late at night, when he wants me to get under him or on top of him. I shudder. He keeps telling me to focus on the land. On the trees and leaves ruffling in the wind. Yet all I can feel is him. All I hear and breathe is him.

"You're full of its life. Remember how it healed you? Try to think back to how that felt. When its power flowed through you and you used it to save yourself. And once you're full of it, let it out in any form you want. Flowers. A tree. What is it that you want?"

I think back to that moment. Truth is, when I was dying I was still thinking of him. What saved me wasn't the land alone, it was my memory of him, my hopes of him. My heart speeds, I feel like my lungs are about to burst. Is that the "feeling of being full" he keeps talking about? So now what's left is to supposedly let it out. But how? His question hangs in my mind. "What is it that you want?" As if that wasn't already obvious.

Suddenly, I feel his hands let go of me, his tail untangle from my leg. Cardan lets out a small scream in surprise. Alarmed, I turn back, my hand already on the hilt of my sword by habit. And yet-

Cardan is hanging by vines, supporting him in mid-air. They're around his legs, his arms, they're grabbing him everywhere, curling around his limbs. One of the vines has pulled up his shirt a bit, another might be trying to get into his mouth, or around it. I'm not sure what it's doing but it doesn't look like it wants to hurt him.

I draw my sword and as I'm about to cut the vines, I stop. Wait. So these are actually…

Cardan smirks at me, half proud and half mocking.

"Dear, if you’ve wanted to tie me up all this time, you could've just asked. Those vines are just as solid as your knots, you know?"

My cheeks heat as I look at the scene again more closely, this time with the knowledge that I'm the one who did that.

"Oh I- I didn't mean to."

"Sure you didn't."

Although his words can be branded as sarcasm, the fact that he was able to say them tells me that he actually does believe that I didn't do it on purpose. Or well, not completely consciously. Subconsciously though? Absolutely. Taking in the sight and burning it into my brain, I raise my sword, less assuredly than before but, well, he has to get out of there in some way or another, right?

Yet this time, he's the one who stops me.

"Why don't you try to get me out of here through your thoughts instead of your sword?"

"I-"

I know I won't be able to. Letting go of him? That's not gonna happen.

"Yes?"

By his shit eating grin I can already tell that he knows that I can't. If those vines are a reflection of my inner world or whatever, then I don't think my inner world will ever let Cardan walk out of there even if I tried to push him out. And so I sigh.

"Are you sure you're not just stalling because you want to stay tied up?"

"Well, I'd rather be tied up in bed. Not in the open like thi-"

The vines tighten around him, he groans.

"Okay okay, get me out of here oh High Queen of my soul and heart."

"So dramatic."

I cut the vines with some difficulty, cursing my own attachment to him. And as they fall to the ground along with Cardan who was suspended in mid-air just a second ago, some blue daisies bloom around our feet. I smile.

"What's that? A gift to show your gratitude?"

He looks at me almost dumbfounded then smiles in turn. A kind smile.

"Are you really so unconscious of what you do? I'm not the one who grew these."

I blush.

The flowers multiply and Cardan lets out a laugh.

✏️✏️✏️

Sorry if you expected something more spicy based on the sussy worded summary 🧐 And if you want to decrease the amount of my sad girl hours, please consider leaving comments/tags 💖

#the folk of the air #tfota #jurdan #jude x cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #folktober2023 #join the revel 👻🎃 #jurdannetfolktober2023 #jurdannet #jurdannetrevels #fanfiction #beloved-daydreams