#And once again sorry for the delay!

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

main take aways from Halloween (1978) rewatch:

michael myers is canonically 21??? this bitch should be at the club

*sees tiddies* ***MURDEROUS RAMPAGE NOISES***

that's it that's the movie

outside of the fact that everyone who has sex is murdered by the narrative, this is a surprisingly chill portrayal of female sexuality? these teen girls are horny and actively enjoying Getting It On with their boytoys. no pushy boyfriends sneaking in through their bedroom windows--these ladies are taking the initiative to sneak out and GET SOME. one of them gets laid and then immediately orders her boyfriend to get her a beer. (yes she gets Slashered soon afterward, but so does the boyfriend so honestly, gender equality.) yes the Final Girl is the only one not having sex, but she's not bullied for that, nor are her friends slut shamed except possibly by being murdered by the narrative

actually the only character who is shown being morally condemned on-screen is michael myers. specifically FOR his violent overreaction to other people's sex lives. (people he is spying on). metaphorically, the villain is American Puritanism sticking its judgy nose into other people's business.

aka Michael Myers Is A Republican

but actually the real villain is the doctor. guy's a judgemental, shaming, pathologizing asshole. and he's been in charge of michael's care since he was SIX YEARS OLD? kid never had a chance. i'd go on a killing spree too

also the parents. where are the parents? it's halloween night and all the teenage girls are home babysitting their younger siblings? come to think of it, michael's first victim was his own older sister, whom he killed while she was babysitting him. teen girls are really shouldering a labour burden here. maybe parentification is the true villain

side note: mike commits his first murder wearing a clown costume...which is never referenced again? his 'iconic' costume is a generic mask and wig and jumpsuit, when we coulda had a Killer Clown Michael Myers??? travesty

i like how the Final Girl and her friend casually smoke weed in her car. yeah she's an honor student and her friend is the sheriff's daughter. yeah they smoke weed. so what it's 1978

(to reiterate, mike is 21 and should be at the club. im not saying he shouldn't be rampaging, im saying it's sad that he broke out, tasted freedom for the first time in his life, and immediately snuck back into his childhood home to go rampaging. let's have a remake where he goes to a nightclub and has a few beers. maybe some slutty dancing. then rampage)

oh no he's hot

[separatist-apologist]

Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

Lucien slander incoming

Gwyn was up before Azriel in a scene fairly reminiscent of just two days earlier. The shadow singer was on his stomach, face turned toward the closed blinds, body blanketed in shadows. She’d forgotten to pull a blanket over her naked body which was just as well given his massive wing covered her with far more warmth.

She had to be careful where she touched lest she rouse him. One wrong touch of his wing and he’d pounce, and Gwyn didn’t think he’d let her out of the bed for the rest of the day. Shivering with desire, she managed to get out from beneath him, watching as one strong arm reached outward blindly for him.

In his exhaustion, he didn’t realize the pillow she slid beneath his armpit wasn’t his mate. She’d be back—she wanted to surprise him with breakfast and  track down some clean clothes so she didn’t have to slink around in one of Azriel’s strange, over-sized, button-up tunics. 

Gwyn didn’t dare let herself feel an ounce of shame as she made her way back into the library. It had once been her sanctuary—her home. 

And she smelled of a male. Clotho turned to look, brows raised before returning to what she was reading at the desk, but Gwyn caught the way her nostrils flared. Her stomach sank ever so slightly, though she kept moving. Had Merril replaced her, she wondered? Gwyn was too much of a coward to track her down and find out. 

Instead, she quickly gathered some of her clothing before changing into a familiar, soft blue dress, and made her way back out with the kind of stealth she’d employed in Montessere. As to how stealthy she was, well.. that was debatable, given the Day Court scholar was waiting for her just outside the library, arms crossed over her chest.

Eris Vanserra’s mate. 

That wasn’t an enviable position as far as Gwyn was concerned. She was better off hidden here than trapped with Eris, who had never once demonstrated himself to be anything other than a two-faced liar. Maybe his mate was, too.

“You stole something from me,” Gwyn said by way of greeting, holding her stare. 

Arina shrugged. “And?”

I already don’t like her.

“I want it back.”

Arina shrugged a second time. “Maybe I lost it.”

How mad would the High Lord be if she strangled her, Gwyn wondered. Would he be angry over a little light beating? A casual amount of stab wounds if they didn’t kill her? 

“You didn’t.”

Green eyes flashed with defiance. “Prove it.”

Gwyn couldn’t help the low, frustrated noise that escaped her. “What do you want, then?”

“The book.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Arina crossed her arms over her chest, hip jutted outward. Did she not understand she was a prisoner? This wasn’t the time to negotiate. Gwyn’s temper was going to get the better of her, and if she got caught fighting just outside the library, there would be hell to pay from everyone. 

“You can help me, if you’d like,” Arina suggested.

“I could also call Eris Vanserra to come get you,” Gwyn retorted. He was her…what? Cousin? Uncle? She hadn’t asked a lot of questions, to be fair, and didn’t intend to. The blonde before her wrinkled her nose, confusion written all over her face.

She didn’t know.

Oh, how fun. Gwyn could ruin everything simply because it amused her—could torment Arina, could hold it over her head. 

“Why would you call him?” Arina demanded, some amount of alarm in her gaze.

“You’ve angered a lot of courts.” Gwyn decided that for now, secrets were better kept just that. “Give me the cipher—”

“Even if I gave it to you, you wouldn’t know what you were reading,” Arina snapped, her patience at an end. “I am a scholar in the Day Court and you are, what? A soldier who got lucky? Another Night Court spy?”

That stung, though Gwyn understood why Arina thought so. “I know enough.” Arina snorted. “Your type always thinks so—as if wielding a blade makes you an expert in everything.”

“You can’t wield a blade?” Gwyn asked curiously. Arina didn’t look defensive, didn’t seem bothered at all.

“No.”

She was going to Autumn. Gods help her, Gwyn supposed, done with the conversation. “I’ll speak with the High Lord,” she said, hoping the mention of Rhys might change Arina’s mind. The scholar merely shrugged again, tossing strands of that golden hair over her shoulder as if to say, you do that. 

Gwyn left her, bag slung over her shoulder and pride wounded. Bitch, she wanted to scream. She swallowed it, frustrated, and made her way back into the House of Wind. Angry, Gwyn yanked open the door just as the person on the other side approached. Azriel stood here, eyes as wild as his sleep mussed hair.

Ah right. Mate, her blood sang at the sight. “You were gone,” he said, voice still thick with sleep.

Gwyn lifted her bag, offering what she hoped was a sweet smile. “I needed clothes.”

“For what?”

Gwyn held his gaze, the air filled with the salty tang of his desire. Wasn’t he exhausted? She still felt sore between her legs and though she couldn’t prove it, Gwyn was fairly certain she was walking bow-legged. 

“I thought it might be nice to walk through the house without giving Nesta and Cassian a show.”

“They’ve earned it,” Azriel mumbled, pulling the bag from her shoulder as though it offended him to see her carrying it. Gwyn couldn’t deny that she didn’t like the way the muscles in his stomach tightened, revealing abs just beneath his warm, scarred skin.

“You look unhappy.”

They fell into step, and Gwyn marveled at how easy it had become to talk to him. To be around him. So much had changed—she hadn’t had a chance to truly take it all in. The realization slammed into Gwyn hard, nearly knocking her backward. Azriel noticed—he noticed everything—eyes narrowed.

“I’m not unhappy,” Gwyn said slowly, her mind racing. “A lot has changed.” Fear flitted over his expression, squashed into careful neutrality. 

“Ah.”

“I see the ghost of myself, unaware of what’s coming,” she continued, chewing her bottom lip. “I wonder what she would make of all this.”

Azriel only nodded his head, dropping Gwyn’s bag on the floor of his room. There was a question there—as if he wondered if that was too presumptuous. It wasn’t. Gwyn wanted him to push her back to the bed, but instead he tucked his wings tightly against his back as he pushed further into the room, sliding a shirt over his head.

“I need to speak with Rhys,” he told her, not meeting her gaze. What was wrong? “I’ll see you later?”

There was some other question lingering, one he didn’t vocalize as he moved out of the room again. Gwyn stopped him, hand on his chest, to lean up on tiptoes and kiss him on the cheek. She didn’t know how to ask him to stay without it feeling too forward, so she only said, “I’d like that.” Relief shuttered across his expression.

“And you will.”

Azriel was gone then, glancing one last time over his shoulder as if he needed to be sure she was actually there. Gwyn, too, liked the sight of him from behind almost as much as she liked the view from the front. It took her a moment to shake the thought—to resist the urge to chase after him, tackle him to the ground, and have her wicked way.

Later, she reminded herself. With Azriel gone, Gwyn’s mind cleared enough to let her think. Arina. Eris’s stupid mate—what a match made in the hells, she thought grimly. She wasn’t sure who she disliked more, though she did understand, on some level, why they’d been paired together. 

Nesta and Emerie were up on the roof with Cassian, dressed in their leathers as they continued to train. Gwyn hadn’t seen them since the previous day, and Azriel had taken over their reunion for penis related activities. 

“I thought you’d be busy—hells, Nesta, what the fuck—”

“Stop talking,” Nesta breathed, pulling out of a stretch to see Gwyn. Emerie came, too, bouncy and full of smiles. From just behind her, Morrigan helped Cassian back to his feet, her brown eyes dipping down Emerie’s back.

What was that about? 

“So…” Nesta began, rocking on her heels, “how was last night?”

“You were so loud,” Emerie added, eyes sparkling with amusement. 

“How could you possibly know that over in Windhaven?” Gwyn demanded.

“Oh, Em wasn’t in Windhaven, she was—”

“Nesta!”

“Secrets?” Gwyn asked, trying to swallow the small twinge of hurt. She’d been going, but Nesta and Emerie had been here, together. They’d bonded over things and Gwyn would have been lying if she said she didn’t feel a little hurt. It wasn’t their fault.

“It’s not a secret,” Emerie said, shifting on her feet. “I just want to talk about it somewhere more…private.”

That led to the three of them turning right around with only a casual wave at an indignant Cassian. Gwyn peered over her shoulder to look at Mor again, who didn’t seem to notice at all. Her eyes were, once again, lingering on Emerie’s hips. Gwyn swallowed her questions as they made their way back down to the house. Once they were alone in a den, doors shut firmly behind them, Gwyn said, “Spill. From the beginning.”

Emerie’s cheeks immediately went scarlet while Nesta’s sharpened like a cat with a mouse beneath her paw. “Emerie and Mor are courting.”

“It’s not—you make it sounds so formal—”

“She came all the way up to the house with flowers and asked to show you the city,” Nesta argued, smile wide. “What do you call that?”

Emerie looked to Gwyn for help, but Gwyn wanted to know the answer. “Is she the one who fixed your wings?”

Nesta’s smile widened. “Not technically. She ah…she asked Rhys to talk to the High Lady and she did.”

“It’s become a whole thing in Illyria,” Nesta told Gwyn, lowering her voice as if the Illyrian’s might overhear. “No one realized the healing magic in Feyre’s blood could fix broken wings, so 

Emerie was the test subject.

“Once it did, we opened it up to any female in Illyria,” Emerie added, cheeks still bright red. “Twice a week, the High Lord and Lady go up to Illyria with Cassian and myself. We were doing it by sign-ups, but realized the males were keeping them from coming. Now Cassian rounds them all up.”

Nesta’s smile slipped, her gaze icy. “It’s not going well. A few of the females had their wings re-clipped, and rebellion broke out further north and every time Cassian quells it, another pocket pops up.”

“That bad?”

“I offered to go in,” Nesta said, eyes glowing softly. “Feyre, too. But Rhys wants to try and preserve as much as we can—diplomacy is, frankly, annoying.”

“What kind of diplomacy would even work?” Gwyn mused, wondering how you convinced a culture that pre-dated the Night Court itself to change their practices. 

“Killing the most vocal, outspoken leaders and installing people the High Lord can trust,” Emerie said softly, her face burning with satisfaction. “There have been whisperings of Dark Bringers coming in to enforce the new policies, too. I know it’s wrong, but…it’s kind of nice seeing some of the males who have hurt us face the wrath of Cassian’s sword.”

“Do you remember Balthazar?” Nesta added, as if Gwyn had ever forgotten him. He’d helped them during the Blood Rite—they all owed him a life debt. “He’s been helping change minds, especially among younger Illyrians. It’s the older ones that are the most vocal, the angriest. They think if females are made equals, they’ll turn around and punish them.”

“I wish,” Emerie mumbled. 

“Feyre held a town hall to let them voice their concerns but it turned into a bloodbath,” Nesta continued. 

“One male drew his sword and pointed it at Feyre and every dissenting voice in the room was gone like that,” Emerie said, snapping her fingers to demonstrate. “The High Lord was so angry.”

“Why are you laughing?” Gwyn asked.

“My brothers were among them. They should have known better than to threaten the High Lady,” Emerie said with satisfaction. 

“So you found a partner and started a revolution in the span of a month?” Gwyn questioned, impressed. 

Emerie beamed. “I guess I did.”

“Now tell us about you, so when I have to answer to Feyre later for going behind her back, I at least know what it was all for,” Nesta said, dropping onto the sofa, her smile returned. Emerie took the chair by the fireplace, leaving Gwyn to curl her feet beneath her on a little two-seater and explain, in depth, everything that had happened.

It was well past dinner by the time she finished talking—Nesta had asked the house for food at some point, though Gwyn couldn’t quite remember when. It was like old times, though—it felt like a lifetime had passed between the last time she’d really talked with her friends and leaving for Montessere. She wished they’d been there with her—that she’d been part of everything just as they, too, could have helped her navigate everything with Azriel. 

“So she stole your cipher and is holding it hostage?” Nesta demanded, outraged. “In my house?”

Emerie was already on her feet, reaching for the door. “We’ll get it back—”

On the other end stood Azriel. The three of them went silent at the sight of him, eyes wide. His lip was split and bloodied, left eye swollen and purple. Blood had dried over his cheek, standing his otherwise beautiful skin.

“Tomorrow,” Emerie whispered, sliding out past Azriel. He moved to let Nesta past, too, his eyes practically burning. 

“What happened?” Gwyn demanded angrily, walking toward him to lightly touch his face. Azriel hissed, turning away from her. 

“It’ll heal.” “Who did this to you?” she pressed, her anger bubbling beneath her skin.

“Would it help if I said I deserved it?” Azriel asked, a hint of humor in his voice. 

“No! Would you feel good if I looked like that and all I’d say is that I deserved it?” she snapped. Some of his amusement slipped. 

“It’s over,” he told her. 

“Was it Rhys?” she pressed, vowing that she’d tell the High Lord exactly what she thought of him if he’d hurt Azriel, regardless of being High Lord.

“No.”

“Az—”

“It was Lucien,” he told her, voice low. “I didn’t hit him back.”

“Who?” Gwyn demanded before she remembered, vaguely, Lucien had come by once or twice. “Why?”

“I pissed him off,” Azriel ground out. He wasn’t going to tell her, and in her mind, Gwyn just knew this had something to do with Eris. Everything going wrong had something to do with Eris. Lucien was a Vanserra, and Gwyn just assumed his loyalty was to his brother first. 

“Fuck him,” she said softly, her voice laced with venom.

“Fuck Lucien?” Azriel questioned, arching a brow. “No, fuck me.”

“You’re hurt—”

“Not that hurt,” Azriel murmured, reaching for her face. “I think seeing you undressed might help me heal faster.”

Gwyn couldn’t help her laugh. “I don’t think that’s how it works,” she murmured, though she left him take her by the hand to lead her down the hall.

“Only one way to find out, Berdara.”

Indeed.

—

Azriel hadn’t expected to run into Lucien first thing in the morning. There the male was, though, striding up the steps toward the River House only a few paces in front of Azriel. Gods, he didn’t want to talk to another fucking Vanserra. Azriel intentionally slowed his pace, deciding if Lucien was there to see Rhys, he’d take Nyx off Feyre’s hands and waste his time teaching the baby swear words.

Maybe he’d take him up to the House of Wind and show him to Gwyn. And she’d take the baby in her arms and he could pretend—

“You know,” Lucien had stopped, unnoticed by Azriel who’d been lost in his daydream. “You’re a piece of shit. Do you know that?” Azriel blinked. “How have I offended you?”

But he knew. He knew the moment he saw Lucien’s clenched hands that Elain had ratted him out—had told him what occurred last Solstice and Lucien was out for blood. Azriel wanted to show his teeth and beat Lucien into the ground simply for being a Vanserra. Everything about Lucien offended Azriel. The fact that he was granted a mate he ignored for years on end, content to do nothing while he figured himself out, or that he bounced from court to court with no show of loyalty irked Azriel. He wouldn’t abandon Rhys, even if the decision’s his brother made were outlandish and horrible. 

Deep down, though, Azriel knew he hated Lucien because they were the same—born to fathers that didn’t want them and to mothers who couldn’t help them. Azriel didn’t like Lucien, but he’d never thought himself better than the seventh son of Autumn. Lucien did, though. He had that air about him, as if his good breeding and status as a High Fae somehow made him better than everyone around him.

“You had no right to touch her,” Lucien snarled, stepping closer. They were matched for height, but not strength and Lucien had to know it. Don’t pick this fight, princling, Azriel warned silently, holding his ground. “No right to go anywhere near her.”

“Did she have the right to touch me?” Azriel heard himself saying. It was the wrong response—something powerful slammed into his chest, throwing Azriel down the drive before he could catch his breath. Lucien was on top of him a moment later, hitting him in the face. 

Once.

Twice.

Three times. 

It was like when he and Rhys sparred—the force rattled the bones in his jaw, punctuated with magic Azriel couldn’t just barely argue with. That didn’t mean he couldn’t get a lick in…though some part of him wondered if maybe he deserved this. After all, if a male had touched his mate, knowing she belonged to him…Azriel might have done the same.

He would have done worse.

“Lucien!” Feyre’s voice cut through the early morning air. A second later, the two were separated as Feyre blew Lucien across the lawn, her face both radiant and irate all at once. Rhys hung back, arms crossed over his chest in the doorway, expression ripe with amusement.

What did you do? Rhys’ voice ribboned through Azriel’s mind.

That bullshit with Elain during Solstice.

While Feyre chewed Lucien out, hands on her hips, Rhys threw his head back and laughed. Didn’t I tell you.

“Yeah, yeah,” Azriel mumbled, ignoring the way his face ached as he pulled himself to his feet. Lucien looked as if he wanted a second round but Azriel was still a male and still had his pride. 

“That’s the only time I won’t hit you back, lordling,” Azriel snapped, ignoring how Feyre’s eyes narrowed. “Next time there’ll be nothing left for that mate of yours to kiss—”

“I’ll kill you—”

“That’s enough!” Feyre snapped, ending the pissing match before Azriel could have his second round. “There will be no killing of any kind!”

Azriel ducked his head as he made his way into the house, hoping he looked appropriately mollified. He certainly felt it. Rhys followed behind Azriel, a smile still dancing across his features.

“I could listen to her yell at him all day,” Rhys admitted, closing the door behind Azriel. “Music to my ears.”

“What’s his fucking problem?”

“Mating bond is riding him hard,” Rhys replied, sinking into his chair. “I need to get them out of this fucking house before I go insane.”

“They accepted here?” Azriel asked, surprised. 

“Feyre begged him to stay for just a week, unaware they were in the middle of the frenzy, and now its all I hear. Day and night, waking up Nyx, keeping me��up when they drop their mental defenses…” Rhys’s expression was one of frustration. “I told Feyre to buy Elain a house just to get them out of my hair.”

“And you sent Cassian away,” Azriel mocked, dropping into the leather chair across from Rhys’s desk. “Perhaps you like Lucien better than us.”

“Cassian and Nesta would have burned this house to ash. You remember that mating ceremony, right?”

Azriel would never forget—the smell of Cassian’s arousal was forever lodged in the back of his throat. Azriel had spent a month up in Illyria while Cassian and Nesta made up for lost time, and even then sometimes he still heard them.

“I suppose you’ll be next?” Rhys questioned. Azriel hoped, certainly, though he hadn’t let himself think that far ahead. He shrugged, instead, deciding silence was the best course of action Rhys knew him well enough to guess what worried Azriel—that Gwyn was going to realize she could likely do better and then leave him.

He knew Rhys just as well as Rhys knew him. That had always been Rhys’s fear about Feyre, after all, even after she’d accepted the bond. Azriel wondered when it had changed for Rhys. When did he let himself believe she wanted him, and would remain, regardless of what she saw? 

Azriel didn’t ask. 

“I assume you didn’t come all this way to let Lucien hit you?” Rhys asked. This would be a joke for the next century, if not longer. 

Azriel scowled. “My magic. Where does it come from?”

Rhys arched his brow. “You know I don’t have the answer for that.”

“I think I do.”

Azriel dropped his mental defenses, trusting Rhys wouldn’t go digging for anything other than what Azriel pulled to the surface. It was a supreme act of trust between them—Azriel had guarded his secrets closely like a dragon hoarding gold. And though there was nothing Rhys couldn’t see, it was more that Azriel didn’t want him to. Rhys was allowed his secrets.

Azriel should be allowed his, too. 

Rhys did exactly as Azriel allowed, his presence dipping into Azriel’s mind to watch it all play out. Rhys withdrew a moment later and Azriel slammed the walls back up, ensuring every last stone was in place before truly looking at his brother.

“Well?”

Rhys steepled his fingers in front of his face, sighing deeply. “I’ve heard that voice in Elain Archeron’s head, too.”

Azriel’s blood ran cold. “And?”

“It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. If your magic is derived from Koschei, it’s just that. Derived, but clearly not controlled.”

“We’re missing something,” Azriel murmured, though he didn’t know what. “I think I should return to Montessere.”

“We should,” Rhys amended softly, eyes cutting toward the closed door. “And soon. With Beron Vanserra gone, whatever deal he’d struck with their king should have died with him. Eris bought us a little time, though who knows how much. Did Gwyn ever manage to figure out what was going on?”

“No—a Day Court scholar stole her cipher and she’s been able to read the book she was translating without it.”

“She’s upstairs with the priestesses,” Rhys mused, rubbing his chin. “Both Helion and Eris are asking for her. I suppose I could negotiate for it…or you could simply steal it.”

Azriel’s shadows slithered around him, suddenly paying attention. 

“Find it,” he murmured, watching as they vanished into smoke. 

Rhys took a breath, waiting until they were truly alone. “Once you know where it is, get it back without making a fuss. I don’t want Eris claiming I harmed his mate any more than he already is. 

When we know what the book says, we can decide our next steps. We need to move quietly, though.”

“What are you thinking?”

“You get me through the door, and I rip open Gunnar’s head,” Rhys said with a relish. It was treason to suggest—could start a war if they were caught. Azriel didn’t care—diplomacy was Rhys’s job, at any rate—but he raised his brows all the same.

“And then what?”

Rhys shrugged. “His son is dead, his court in shambles…I’m sure the vipers are circling. A stroll through the palace will tell me who is sympathetic and who might be willing to sign a treaty agreeing to look elsewhere for their expansionist ambition, should it come to that.”

“It’s risky,” Azriel said, unable to suppress his grin.

“Sounds like fun to me,” Rhys replied, settling back in his chair. “Let me think it through a bit—give me a week. In the meantime, help Cassian with Illyria.”

“What’s going on in Illyria?”

Rhys gave Azriel the rundown of their latest project, speed running through a plan that had originally been meant to happen over the course of several decades. Nesta was human, and Emerie young, and he supposed to them, it was simply all too slow. He didn’t blame them for pushing for stronger measures, for wanting stricter punishments. Feyre, too, seemed frustrated by the lack of progress being made in the region and the loss of yet another generation of females while the males pretended to implement the changes they outwardly ignored. 

“Looking for resistance leaders?”

“And quickly,” Rhys agreed with a sly look on his face. “They’ve forgotten how it feels to go against us and I think a little reminder is in order.”

“Maybe it’s time,” Azriel murmured.

Rhys’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Say the word.”

“It would cause more problems than it would solve,” Azriel reminded Rhys, knowing damn well that Rhys didn’t care about problems when it came to his brothers. So what if the other nobles balked—let them see what happened if they refused the authority of the High Lord they were sworn to.

“Is there someone we could install in their place?” Rhys questioned.

“I could find out.”

“Do it.”

And that was that. Azriel spent the rest of his day with Feyre and Nyx, seated on the floor while the pair tried to convince the toddling baby to pick his favorite. Azriel cheated twice, pulling a piece of candy he’d swiped from Rhys’s desk to intice the child over while Feyre declared he was the absolute worst and she’d never forgive him. 

Azriel knew she would. She spent the afternoon fussing over his face and begging him to let her fix it before he went back upstairs, but Azriel had made peace with his wounds. This was his penance, besides. He’d gotten what was coming to him, he supposed.

Even if he stood by what he’d said all those months ago. He was glad Elain wasn’t his mate…but still thought Lucien was an unworthy male he could easily take in a fight if it ever came down to it. Besides, Azriel reasoned it might give Gwyn a reason to fuss over him, which he thought sounded rather nice.

He’d forgotten how violent she could be. Even with his head in her lap, wings draped around them, Gwyn explained in detail all the things she’d like to do to Lucien while scratching his scalp. Was this how cats felt? 

“We could psychologically torture him,” Gwyn said, still musing all the ways she could get him back.

“Oh? How would you do that?” he questioned.

“I’ll ask Nesta,” she decided, earning a chuckle. 

“She’d know.”

“Arina still has my cipher,” Gwyn informed him after a moment. Azriel opened his eyes to look up at her, finding her pretty face twisted in a frown. 

“I’ll find it,” he said, wondering if his shadows already had. They wouldn’t intrude while he was with her, and he couldn’t sense them nearby. It didn’t mean they weren’t—just that he couldn’t feel them. 

“And deny Nesta the opportunity of scaring it out of her?” Gwyn asked before her expression shifted. “Did you know Mor and Emerie were courting?”

It should have been a punch to the gut. Azriel waited for that familiar wave of hot jealousy to fill his throat like it used to. Every time he’d heard whispers of Mor being intimate with other people—males, usually—Azriel hadn’t been able to swallow it. Rhys had often taken him out to let him burn out his anger in the form of physical violence.

There was a beat. And then another. “Oh?” he finally heard himself say in a placid tone. He meant it, too. It was pleasant, that feeling. He only wished her well. 

“Surprised me, too,” Gwyn admitted after a moment. “But Emerie is the best.”

“She is,” Azriel agreed.

“And Mor is…nice?” she questioned.

“She is,” he promised, reaching for Gwyn’s free hand to press a kiss against the back of her skin. “You’ll like her.”

Gwyn hummed a non-committal sound as the pair lapsed into comfortable silence. Azriel had questions he didn’t dare ask her—not yet. Maybe not ever. He wanted to know if she was genuinely happy and if she had regrets. If she was accepting their bond out of obligation or because she wanted to. Cassian and Rhys knew their mates wanted them because humans didn’t have the concept—they had to decide on the merits of their feelings rather than the expectation of the bond. 

Gwyn had grown up as one of them—she knew what it meant to have a mate. And she’d accepted the whole thing so easily, so quickly, that Azriel caught himself second guessing everything at times. 

“Are you hungry?” Gwyn asked, reading Azriel’s mind. His heart raced at the thought—he knew what she was offering. Yes! The word nearly bubbled out of his throat, leashed only at the last minute.

“I am,” he replied, rising upward with what he hoped seemed sultry and not avoidant. He had her on her back in a moment, gazing up at him around a halo of reddish brown hair. “What are you offering.”

“I thought…” she breathed, but he was sliding her dress up over her thighs. That's it. Forget you offered, he thought silently. Pressing a kiss to her thigh, Azriel decided this was better, at least for now. Let her get used to it—they’d revisit accepting in a few years. Decades, maybe. 

It was easy to pretend it didn’t hurt him.

Mostly.

[eardefenders]

Sherlock & Co - Mailbag Episode 3 Transcript

00:00 John: Heyyy there, I’m,uh, I’m, uh, back in your ears! Heh. Uh, thanks for inviting me in. Um, I-I just wanted to add a chunk on before this Q and A just to give you an update on all things Gloria Scott. Uh, thanks so much for the kind words, first off. Uh I-I-I did warn about its angst. Um, and I appreciate i-it’s not always a fun ride when, when those kinds of things happen. Um. But hey! I’m glad you all enjoyed it. Um, glad the masterful sound design was appreciated.

00:32 John: Uhm, yeah I thought I’d, I’d check in now and give you a rundown of it all. Post match interview sort of stuff. Uh, Lionel did recover from the stroke. He is out of hospital, but he will be going back to Australia. Um. He’s-he's obviously cooperating with the government, um, down there. It’s not an easy situation, but he’s handling it with remarkable grace and dignity. Um. Victor is, as well. Can’t quite get the read on things with him at the moment. He’s obviously very, very torn. Uh, we solved the case for him, but, y’know, yeah. H-he’s in a much worse place then he was before. Um. *pause* Such is life. Uh, such is a very complicated life, I should say. He’s helping his dad, with the inquiries. Uh, m-my gut says there’ll be prison time. *sucks teeth* Um, y’know, c-cooperation and evidence and the, yeah, t-the mitigating circumstances might be helpful to Lionel and all, but, uh… *deep breath* ultimately lives were lost. He was complicit. Y’know this is the world we live in.

01:49 John: *sucks teeth* Victor has paused the job search, but uh I-I do believe he’ll be coming back to the UK once, y’know, whatever happens, happens. But, uh, yeah. Tough stuff. Um, glad you all enjoyed Mariana joining in on the adventure. Um, don’t know if she enjoyed it all that much. So far she’s watched corpses get pulled out of the canal and now she’s watched an elderly stroke victim get extradited for murder. So, uh, y’know. *chuckles lightly* Welcome to the world of true crime, Ametxazurra!

02:23 John:Um, Sherlock asked me to apologize, also, actually. Um, yes, to apologize that he wasn’t technically correct in his solving of the case. Um, uh, Hunter did reveal the actual truth. I, I told him people wouldn’t really mind. He got me to apologize anyway, so, uh, yeah. There you go. Um, so he’s been a right mopey bastard, as you can imagine. *clears throat* So, to cheer him up, I carted him off to…an indoor theme park! Heh, yeah, you heard that right. Theme park. But indoors. Well, theme park’s a bit strong to be honest. I-I-It’s like an arcade with an indoor roller coaster. But yeah! Y’know! Uhm, back to Camden, but for a much more enjoyable experience.

03:05 John: These questions were asked, um, before The Gloria Scott episode aired. T-two that I ask Sherlock right at the end are eerily prescient. Um, that’s the right word, I think? Uh, I hope. Welp, you’ll see what I mean. Enjoy!

03:19-3:49 *Intro Music*

03:47 *Arcade Sounds Fade In, we can hear Sherlock exerting himself*

03:50 John: Yoooo, wassup guys! Welcome to the John Watson channel where we talk all things John Watson all the time! Ehh, that’s my impression of a youtuber or real podcaster, hope you enjoyed it. Ah, right, Sherlock, tell the members where we are.

04:01 Sherlock: Indoor theme park! Augh! *through gritted teeth* You little alien bastard! Get back here!

04:09 John: Sherlock is doing some whack-a-mole, ah, or they’re aliens in this place, not moles. Could be alien moles. Who knows. Ah, it’s an indoor theme park in *in a very exaggerated North London accent (genuinely he sounds like an ass here)* North London. That’s North London, sorry. Bit excited. Had about a kilogram of sugar. Haha, I’m looking at all sorts here. Arcade machines, carousels, basketball hoop game thingy, air hockey, bumper cars -dodge’ems, call’em what you will-, and an indoor roller coaster! Hahahaa! It’s wild stuff. Okay, let’s get to some questions over a casual game of air hockey.

04:40 *Audio Cut, sounds of air hockey being played*

04:41 Sherlock: Have that! *puck hit sound* And that!

04:44 John: ‘Have that and that’? What are you, a musketeer? Hahahaaaa! *sound of a puck entering the goal* First point Watson! Heyheyheeeey, ahhhh. And now for the first question. Uh, Tonkster aka Resetoaster asks, “To John and Sherlock, if you go to Subway -the fast food I should clarify- what do you usually order?”

05:03 Sherlock: *with exertion* You’re *sound of the puck being hit* distracting me! Ah!

05:06 John: Ah, you wouldn’t be saying that if you were winning.

05:07 Sherlock: I’m not winning *puck hit sound* precisely because of it.

05:11 John: Alright, fine. I’ll answer. Uh, I like the turkey club. Is that-Ow! That hit my finger. *hisses in pain*- I think there’s a turkey one. Um, I like that one on plain-ish bread. I don’t think their fancy breads are all that good. Uh, and then I’ll have a southwest sauce- Wham! Haha! *sound of puck entering goal*

05:23 Sherlock: Oh, bugger.

05:26 John: Subway order?

05:26 Sherlock: Never been.

05:27 John: Great.

05:27 *audio cuts. Sounds of automatic rifle fire going off*

05:29 John: Reloading. Cover me!

05:29 Sherlock: Covering.

05:30 John: Incoming at your two o’clock.

05:31 Sherlock: On it!

05:32 *sounds of two loud gunshots*

05:33 John: Yesss, Sherlock. Right, through the lobby. Okay, let’s see how this goes. Bellaxbear01 asks “If you guys want another pet, what animal would it be? Another dog, another cat, or maybe a fish?”

05:47 Sherlock: I like fish. *sound of gunshots* Very much. Reloading.

05:50 John: *pleased* Oh, hahah! I like fish too!

05:52 Sherlock: Really?

05:53 John: Yeah! Tropical?

05:54 Sherlock: Tropical or temperate.

05:56 John: Well that’s good to know. Yeah, worth maybe one day looking into that? Oo! Getting shot at here. Uh, Amelie5 asks “Do you have a favorite case you’ve solved so far?

06:05 *sounds of a big gun being fired*

06:07 Sherlock: A good question at bloody last. Die you bastards! *big boom*

06:12 John: Oh wowhaowhaooow! *sounds of I guess dirt falling, maybe bodies???* *with a smile in his voice* Oh, you made him blow up! Ha! Ahh, I know the feeling. Poor sod.

06:18 Sherlock: I rather enjoyed the Red Headed League.

06:22 John: Yep, that was a good’un. -Oh, duck down! That’s a machine gun.- Did you like the Red Headed League because of the case or because it proved me wrong about it being boring?

06:27 Sherlock: Mmm, both.

06:28 John: Great, well-oh I’m dead. *sound of man yelling, presumably John’s character dying in the game* Balls.

06:31 *audio cut. Ambient arcade sounds with something fizzing at the forefront*

06:34 John: What is that?

06:35 Sherlock: *struggling to speak* opp ing andy.

06:37 John: Opping Andy?

06:38 Sherlock: *still struggling to speak, but clearly annoyed* Op-opping. Andy.

06:41 John: Ohhhh, popping candy. Right. Well, RangerPip asks any specific reason you started smoking a pipe?

06:49 Sherlock: *unintellible gargling and consonant sounds*

06:54 John: Right, well, if you understood that RangerPip, well done you, haheh. *pause* *in a considering tone* Hunnh. He may or may not be choking.

07:03 *audio cut, loud music and bumper car sounds*

07:04 John: Ah!

07:04 Sherlock: Ahahaha!

07:05 John: Hahahah, left! Left! Left!

07:08 Both: Ah! *sound of impact*

07:09 John: Oh my god, my ribs! Argh, right! Let’s get up some more speed and smash into these kids-uh, I mean! These, um, big burly blokes.

07:17 Sherlock: Here we go.

07:20 John: Yesss, Sherlock, we are at some speed now, baby! Hahahah, right! Question from Raylein, “Does Archie get human food? And if he does, who feeds it to him?”

07:30 John: Ah yeah I do feed him, I-

07:30 Sherlock: Yes.

07:33 John: Wait.

07:34 Sherlock: What?

07:35 John: You’re feeding him as well?

07:36 Sherlock: I am, yes!

07:38 John: Well, that explains a lot. Uh, yeah Raylein, I don’t really like animal products going to waste so I just, um, I chuck him all sorts. Ope, here we go. Come here you little shits.

07:44 Sherlock: Ahhhhhhhh!

07:45 John: *sound of impact* Ah hahah!

07:48 *audio cut, it’s much quieter now, but they’re still at the arcade*

07:49 John: *remorsefully* I just didn’t think they’d cry and tell their mums is all.

07:51 Sherlock: That’s what children do. *accusingly* You told me to smash into them.

07:55 John: I did not say that.

07:57 Sherlock: Can I get the SD card out of your microphone and check?

08:00 John: No.

08:01 Sherlock: See.

08:02 John: Andrew says, “Question for Sherlock: Do you have any piercings? And, if you don’t, do you want any? And, if you do, which ones do you want?”

08:10 Sherlock: *sucks in a deep breath* Ear piercing. I haven’t used it for some time.

08:14 John: Why not?

08:15 Sherlock: Was that asked in the Discord?

08:17 John: What?

08:18 Sherlock: That. Just then.  The ‘Why not?’

08:21 John: …No.

08:22 Sherlock: *takes a breath* Well then. I needn’t answer it. This is a time for members.

08:26 John: Right. Great. Lovely. Ok, MushPit says “Your deductive skills, was it talent you were born with or a skill that you developed and perfected over time?”

08:34 Sherlock: I assume MushPit is asking me, not you?

08:37 John: Ah ha ha, very funny.

08:40 Sherlock: My senses have always been, um-

08:43 John: Overcalibrated?

08:44 Sherlock: Yes, quite. Sooo, I’ve always observed a lot. When I found it difficult to tune out of my surroundings, I decided to analyze them. Then it became rather addictive. Yes, it became a skill, but I feel it much stronger then a skill. It feels like a byproduct of my very existence. I cannot unlearn it. IIII cannot wind it down or soften it. It occupies me as much as I do it. I fear that I  cannot stop it. Even if it kills me. Even if it drains everything from me and I can never truly find it to know myself, to know my surroundings without the necessity…uh, no, the-the requisite to my very self. To t-try to understand everything-

09:33 John: The rollercoaster’s ready.

09:34 Sherlock: Oh.

09:35 John: Uh, we- we can finish if you want? Uh, y’know we can go on it later?

09:40 *audio cut, we can hear the roller coaster going and John and Sherlock on it. John keeps saying ‘Woohoo! Wheee!’ and Sherlock is saying joyfully ‘Bloody fantastic! Absolutely bloody fantastic!’ Both of them also keep laughing in between their exclamations*

09:48 *audio cut. We’re outside. London traffic can be heard.*

09:53 John: Oh that was good! Wasn’t it?

09:54 Sherlock: *pleased* Superb.

09:56 John: Not a bad idea, is it? A theme park, indoors? I mean we were a little old for it, but hey, y’know, there’s no age limit on enjoyment! Well, I mean you can’t go jumping into a soft play or anything like that, but yeah. Yeah. Now we are walking near Chalk Farm. Not actually a farm of chalk, of course. It’s just a nice place between Bellsides Park and the Northern end of Camden town. How’s that q and a session for you, mate?

10:16 Sherlock: Is that question on the Discord?

10:17 John: Right, ok. This is not a thing. You can still have normal chats with me inbetween members questions.

10:25 Sherlock: Noted.

10:26 John: Well it’s a question for me now anyway. Um, has your mother finally listened to the podcast? And if yes, what does she think of it? Uh, yes, has she listened? She has! She didn’t like the sound of my bomb. That makes two of us, there. Eheh. Uh, and she sent me further messages about Mariana. And! She will occasionally point out when I’ve been rude to people on the show. *clicks tongue* She also asked me if the Austrian man’s face was okay, so she has at least, definitely finished one adventure. And, no. His face is not. Ok. Mum. Uhh, so- hunh, this is weird.

10:59 Sherlock: What’s that?

11:01 John: Two questions here, next to each other. Uh, I-I’m not making this up. First one, Ramt or-or Ramtonk, “t-the flowers on my orchids are gone, but the plants themselves are thriving. Uhh, they’re watered as they should be and get optimal sunlight. Will the flowers ever come back?”

11:19 Sherlock: *pleasantly surprised* Hhha!

11:20 John: Right? Yeah and the second one from Batonks the Graveyard Ghost says, “Question for John, do you have any funny memories from your childhood that you’d like to share with us?”

11:30 Sherlock: Yes, that is quite remarkable.

11:32 John: Well! I’ll let the adventure of The Gloria Scott answer those questions! So, ah, everybody, thanks so much for these. I hope you enjoyed the answers. Sorry it’s been so short, but I’ve just noticed that that’s our bus!! We’re gonna miss it! Go! Go! Go!

11:46 Sherlock: *frustrated sigh* For goodness sake!

11:47-12:17 *Outro Music Plays*

[arcanusarchieves-if]

The classic jealous ask! What would be the ros reaction to the mc being flirted with in front of them? crushing stage!

I've admittedly been waiting for this one, it's always one of my favorites to read about on other ifs' blogs. I kinda hijacked the prompt a little and made so it's another (random) Circle member flirting with MC! I hope you don't mind.

"Hello {MC}, I hope you're not busy. I know that these meetings can be quite frantic so I was wondering if you would be up to having a quick lunch so we can discuss things. There is this lovely little cafe that I think you will really enjoy. It's not too far, it's just down by-" Astoria stops dead in her tracks, simply blinking at you and [Random Circle Member] for a few awkward moments. Dark brown eyes simply gaze into your own for a while - they seemed longing almost, as if searching desperately for something. Eventually, she ends up clearing her throat, giving a forced but somehow still kind smile, before continuing to speak as if nothing had happened, although her hands do tremble ever so slightly as she does so. "I see that you're currently occupied. I will...see you later I suppose. If you have any questions about the meeting feel free to reach out MC - and obviously you as well [Random Circle Member]. My door is always open." You open your mouth to respond but before any words are able to tumble out, Astoria turns around and walks away throwing a quick "I'll just being grading papers up in my office - if you need anything" over her shoulder as she leaves.

"I was hoping that you and I could go out sometime? I mean I really like you MC and-" A figure slides into the seat next to you, firmly wrapping a leather-clad arm around your shoulder, interrupting [Random Circle Member]'s admittedly awkward attempt at stumbling through a confession. Your eyes dart over to the cause of said interruption and are completely unsurprised to see Caspian's smirking face staring back at you. After all, few people would have the pure audacity to insert themselves into a random interaction like this - and even fewer would be willing to touch someone like you so openly while doing so. "So, what're you two are talking about? I mean I wouldn't want to interrupt anything important, but I was wanting to show {MC} some of the upgrades that I made on the bike - it's been so long since we've been able to catch up and all! We'll see you around though." Caspian has you standing up and pulled away before you even realized what has happened - if it wasn't for the smug smirk crossing his face every so often, you wouldn't even realize he did it on purpose.

"Of course, this is where I would find you. Hovering around and making horribly awkward attempts at courtships while the rest of us are slaving away at [Whatever Strategy the Circle is Doing]. Not particularly surprising but frustrating, nonetheless. It's nice to know where your priorities lie, {MC}." Solaine's sharp words slice right through the conversation that you were having. A deep purple gaze locks straight onto you, not even deigning to look towards your current conversation partner. They look deeply unimpressed, something angry and bitter lingering in their eyes, before they look away with a scoff. Pushing a strand of snowy hair behind their ear, they sneer before turning around and walking towards the exit, their movements precise as always. Seeming unable to stop themself, they throw a few words over their shoulder as they are leaving. "If your outing ends up being unsatisfying, as I imagine it will be, feel free to track me down so we can get some actual work done. Despite your...personality flaws...your skill set can be occasionally useful."

"Anyways, I was thinking that we could go down to [Random Restaurant]? The foods great and I can assure you that you'll have a great time." Shifting around uncomfortably, your eyes dart across the room, unable to decide if it would be safer to stare at [Random Circle Member]'s flirtatious expression that's right in front of you or Maeve's unimpressed amber eyes that are glaring into you from the other side of the table. You open your mouth to answer the question that [Random Circle Member]'s had posed but are almost immediately interrupted by a snarky voice. "{MC} doesn't like [Type of Food Served At Restaurant]." You could feel yourself internally flinch at the slightly baffled expression on [Random Circle Member]'s face. Any sympathy you have for them however immediately disappears at the pure stupidity of their next choice; they scoff at her. "Well, I didn't know that so-" Maeve stands up interrupting their words. She doesn't even give you a chance to respond as she stands up and stomps out of the room, muttering angrily as she passes by you. "You don't even know what food they like, and you asked them out on a date? That's - you know what? You're right, it doesn't even matter. Have fun at [Random Restaurant], MC. Hope you can manage to find something that you'll like."

"So, what do ya say, MC? Wanna grab a bite? I promise you'll have a good time. Just let me know by the end of the meeting, kay?" You can feel Jasper's eyes on you as [Random Circle Member] asks the question. You turn to meet his gaze for a moment and are a bit surprised to see something bitter and longing that is lingering in his amber eyes. Just as quickly as it came though, the look disappears, leaving Jasper's normally kind and patient expression behind. He gives you an encouraging, albeit forced, grin before he begins mouthing a few quick words to you. The moment he sees your face scrunch up in confusion, he reaches for a piece of paper and quickly jots something down before sliding it over to you. 'You should say yes. They seem to like you a lot :)' - J You feel your eyes soften at the encouragement but the moment you look up to mouth your thanks, you see that his attention is now occupied towards the current strategy talk. You wave it off as him being invested in his work but can't help but feel that something is off when you don't manage to catch his eye the rest of the meeting...

[crehador]

the current state of the one with the clones is me whispering to clone!ichiro you have got to fuck him faster than this and him hissing back i am fucking trying?? because this 4p clone sex pwp is now

and there's still. there's still no fucking p.

[moldspace]

I showed your blog to a friend (she doesn’t have tumblr) and she said your sculptures were very emotional and light. I concur! plus they are very precisely executed (as someone who also does clay work) so tops all around really

aww thank you so much (both of you!) for the compliments!! I'm trying to really improve my sculpting (and detail work especially) which is! hard! but I'm glad that work comes through ☺️

[h-doodles]

anyways im all drawn out this tender 3 am but mrrp! wip snip on unfinished art for not going anywhere (pt.1) by @sarahpaulsonsoftie <3

You wandered into Marilyn’s Conservatory seeing her sitting with Larissa on her desk, mugs in both of their hands, and a third mug sitting beside you. Marilyn grinned, picking up the mug and handing it to you.

You smiled gratefully at her, accepting the mug. “Thank you.” You murmured, taking a sip of the coffee, (...)

- excerpt from the fic :)

if u cant tell this was actually my fave line and i wish i was a writer that i could expand THIS scene bc i always imagine Larissa & Marilyn tenderly looking @ reader who's just. peacefully enjoying their time together like!!!!!!!!! girl they're literally so domestic it's cavity inducing!!!!!!

[gleeksfreaksandwannabes]

Ok, we’re back!

I dragged myself out of my other hyperfixations to bring you chapter 33, aka “Dean bumps into the very last person he thought he’d see and asks Jack the million dollar question”!

I really like where these next few chapters go guys, they were tough to write but I think I needed to take this little detour with Dean, just for my own sanity! Thanks again for all your love on this story, it means so much that people are reading my silly little fix it!

[brittlebutch]

"No, I think he's just coming down with something," Brian continues, and Alex could almost laugh at its half-truth. Come down with the plague of something haunting and hungry and watching. Come down with the holy rotting wounds of age old saints. Sure, that works.

In which Alex Kralie joins the ranks of stigmatics and gains a firsthand understanding of what The Destructors meant when it claimed "destruction is a form of creation".

--

Word Count: 41,952

[obscureoperations]

Martin with a country gf pls? Like full backwaters, hick, hillbilly, etc. lmao

Ohhh I love this haha! Once again.. so sorry for the delay. Things have been interesting here to say the least *eyeroll*

Anyways..

I think Martin would adore your overall attitude and hands on approach in life. Not one to shy away from hard work and getting your hands dirty.. Martin really liked that about you.

Adventures. The two of you would often go on adventures together around town or your family's farm. On the nights that he stayed over, Martin had no problem rising early to help you with the morning chores.

Your family. Martin adores your family.. they were some of the most genuine people he had ever met. Needless to say he had a very skewed perception of family in general.. it was wonderful to witness the loving dynamic. Your mother absolutely loved him and often referred to him as "Pumkin'' Your dad was a huge prankster and would sometimes tease him for his floppy hair and shy demeanor.

Your phrasing. He loved listening to you speak, the accent was distinct to say the least. You had the funniest way of phrasing things which he thought was adorable. He wished he could listen to you speak all day. All the little nicknames caused him to blush... you sometimes called him "June bug" because of his birthday. " Darlin', "cutie-pie", and "sugar" all caused butterflies to form at the pit of his stomach. You loved him so much! It caused his heart to ache.

You were so active.. Martin always thought he was the one with nervous energy.. you on the other hand never seemed to quit. From the morning you woke up till the two of you went to bed-- There wasn't a moment you weren't doing something.

He loved watching you interact with your animals... especially the sweet fluffy sheep. You even went on to name one of the new lambs "Martin" teasing that it looked just like him. Frogs, snakes, and mice seemed to be some of your favorite little critters. He was genuinely surprised. Most girls.. at least the ones in the movies would usually grow pale at the very sight of them. Definitely a bit of a "tomboy" and to Martin's surprise... he found it extremely attractive.

Martin just enjoyed your overall approach in life, you were so optimistic even on a bad day. You always had a story to tell or way to relate to him that could pull Martin out of the deepest slump. He felt so lucky to have you!

[daemon-in-my-head]

Off of your newest Durge ask post. 1, 5, and 6?

Thank u sm for the ask, I'm growing to regret making that game lmfao

1. What or who inspired your Durges design the most? A particular idea or vibe or perhaps another hottie or baddie?

Ok OK OK, promise me y'all won't judge me alright? At first I just wanted a super twisted durge, one who's rly struggling with the whole daddy's princess vs daddy ruined my life bit. And then I wanted some aro rep and cuz it rly fits in with his vibe of just being paranoid and scare of 'affection' atp (burned child, all that, basically I just wanted some good ol representation and I adore badass durges buuuuut, tragedy lover).

And now comes the not judging part. When it comes to his visuals... Fucking Piers from Pokemon Sword and Shield I'm so sorry have u seen the Fanart of him and him x Raihan (who's just as hrmgh)???? Or just him and his slutty waist???? So yeah anyway. The fucking goth gym leader who has absolutely stunning hair and is a very cute person actually and whom I adore. Also fucking Alucard from Castlevania cuz I'm a basic beach and that man is so fucking pretty I can not. I may have a type.

2. Are they a plot device or the driving force? Do they exist to enhance Gortash or has Gortash developed to become the accessory wife? Do they compliment or foil each other?

They're a different side on the same coin I'd say. Durge is very much the driving force as I exclusively (at least rn) write 3rd limited from his PoV or straight up his exact thoughts at that moment, but Gortash is still very much responsible for a lot of the things that happen. They're mutually to blame for what they need to endure.

They're also very non linear. Neither of them has that one click moment and they're healed or suddenly worse. It's a slow twisted road they're pushing each other down and laughing whenever the other one trips nd falls. They are horribly similar while being polar opposites.

3. Personality or looks, what came to you easier?

Personality. I did redesign his visuals a few times (blatant lie, very often) before I arrived at a design I'm happy with and honestly, rn I'm still struggling to settle on smth that works for the one time he was happy aka his childhood. Truth be told I can't quite decide if I want it to be post epilogue opposition or if I want some vague similarities. There's arguments for both and I am spending way too much time arguing with myself over semantics. But anyway, when I came up with him all I knew for sure was that he had blueish grey hair and still treasures 2 keepsakes from his old home.

The personality though rly came easy. His trauma is borrowed, as are his emotions and shit, and for the serial killer and unhinged part... I used my cat as reference. Love em both, but they can both me such a pain.

This is the moment where I mention that my cat does not know how to cat either tho. So truth be told, they're both a weird mix of a bunch of contradictory influences and as such everyone here is not quite right in their head.

[avatarchai]

Hi Chai !!! How are you ???

I'm just popping in to thank you from the bottom of my heart for recommending me Once Were Warriors, what a magnificent movie, its been a while since I cried that much watching a film 😭I'll definitely need to rewatch it some day to appreciate its beauty and cinematography in detail after learning more about the maori culture, but omg it was a tough watch 💔

ps: how did you find this film ? Do you have any ties to the Maori people ?

HEY CRASHIEEEEE!!!1! 💗💗💗 sorry for the late ass response, I was off Tumblr for a while </3 but OMG I LOVE READING THIS!! I'm soo happy you liked Once Were Warriors! And that you found it beutiful and rewatchable despite its devastating, heart-wrenching nature 💔💗

It's kind of a cute(?) story how I got to know it, actually! My mom watched it on her youth with some of her friends (way before I was born) and it just stayed with her. She found a copy of the gorgeous, stunning soundtrack somehow, so I grew up listening to the music and being told about how amazing the film was, and that someday I'll get to see it too. Fast forward to my late teens maybe, when we managed to get a physical copy of the movie and boom! It was sort of a coming of age ritual for me, and it has become formative in the way I appreciate cinema and the way I learn and behave from characters and situations.

Ah and, as far as I know we don't have any ties to the Maori, but we do have a deep interest for their culture.

[eurovisionart]

🇨🇭 Annie Cotton - Moi, tout simplement

[leostimstuff]

Uhm can I get Rui Kamishiro stimboard with robot and drone stims plss

Drafted :3

[lesbiansloveseokjin]

day 266/548 of seokjin’s military service

these selcas were posted on 160331:

caption (left):

I’m giving you homework before Eat Jin comes out

followed by the tweets:

If you scream I’ll give you the original (version of the picture)

Didn’t I say to scream? Who (told you) to text/type ‘Kkyaaakkyaakkkyakkkyakaaaak’?

Wait.. I was going to upload the original version chicly as a present but it came out funnier that I thought so I can’t give it to you guys, sorry

caption (right):

The original (picture) wasn’t that good, I’ll give you a newly taken one

(trans cr: Mary @ bts-trans)

Eat Jin vlog posted that day (original here):

[queer-book-character-tournament]

this is such a funny description of the characters I wanted to share as pre-propaganda from @a-kind-of-merry-war and also thank you for reminding me to check if One Night in Hartswood was out in the USA yet (it is, I have ordered now!)