#Direct Selling Leader news

[directsellingnow]

Direct selling Industry में देश की पहली एकेडमी ''K Narayan Skill Academy'' का आगाज़

दिल्ली के तालकटोरा इंडोर स्टेडियम में भारत की पहली डायरेक्ट सेल्लिंग अकादमी ” ‘K Narayan Skill Academy” का उद्घाटन हुआ। इस दौरान श्री हेम पाण्ड्य ( Retd. IAS Ofiicer) बतौर चीफ गेस्ट मौजूद रहे। इसके अलावा इस कार्यक्रम में भारत के पहले डायरेक्ट सेल्लिंग पीएचडी होल्डर डॉ. कमलकांत विशिष्ठ, YTM के फाउंडर और सीईओ श्री कमल नारायण, प्रख्यात बिज़नेस कोच और मोटिवेशनल स्पीकर श्री राजेश अग्रवाल और श्री जितेश…

[feralgoblinqueen]

I’m not the first to write something like this but here’s my spin on shifter!141.

*****

They had spent too long in their bestial forms. Time feels different when the wolf takes over, easier to lose track of and even harder to remember their human lives. By the time one of them remembers the house in the woods and its many acres that still needs a final payment under a fake name it’s too late.

They look on from the tree line, taking note of the changes made by the new owner. A budding flower garden in front of the house, well kept and just starting to show its spring colors. Around back a large vegetable patch was still green, nothing yet ready to harvest. The exterior had a fresh coat of paint and small repairs had been made. A single faded blue truck rumbled up the long and winding driveway. That’s when they first laid eyes upon you.

—————

“Abandoned, Selling As Is” was what the advertisement had read. No one else had wanted the plot of land hours away from civilization. For you, though, it was perfect. Somewhere to start over, to be alone and relearn who you are.

The rooms still held the previous owner’s belongings. Everything had been left untouched as if they just vanished one day. All men, you assumed, just from the sparse decor and the clothes left behind. Military, maybe, from how the beds were made with their sheets tucked into hospital corners. Paranoid loners, possibly even doomsday preppers, was another guess you made after discovering a gun safe hidden behind a false wall under the stairs.

It was almost a game, once a day trying a hand full of combinations to see if any worked. Something mindless to fill an unoccupied moment of time. That’s when you really started going through the papers and books left behind. Looking for any clues at what the code might be. A notepad left on the small hallway table is where you scribbled down all the combinations that hadn’t worked, in a meager attempt to not repeat yourself. A small mystery to add a little life to your loneliness.

At night is when things really come to life this far out into the wilderness. In the early days of owning the property, before you were able to get the satellite internet set up, you’d spend the evenings watching and listening on the back porch. Deer were the most common, using the wide open expanse of a backyard as a place to graze in the evenings. Owls silently swooping down on field mice before retreating to the trees once more. Coyotes, crickets, and night birds made a symphony of nature most nights.

The most exciting were the wolves. You could always hear them howling in the distance, calling to one another. They weren’t like the coyotes that cackled over one another in attempt to sound larger or more numerous than they actually were. These were direct calls and responses. Their vocalizations sounding almost melancholy, as if they were yearning for something that seemed just out of reach.

It was a quiet night when you finally decided to respond to their calls. The evening had been spent making supply lists for your trek into the nearest town in the morning. A large cooler had been thrown into the bed of your truck to store items intended for the refrigerator and deep freezer.

You sat on the tailgate, listening to the night song that seemed to encapsulate the peaceful valley you now owned. A celebratory drink held in one hand and a small, proud smile graces your lips. Your house was starting to feel like a real home and that was definitely worth celebrating.

The wolves that you had grown fond of, yet had never seen, were starting up. Your favorite night song. A melody that you could listen to for hours. One you had listened to for hours.

Four. You could make out four distinct calls at this point. Two were more vocal than others, their tones more playful. One was definitely the pack leader. His call the first and last each night, like a command or an order. And one was rarely heard, usually only short responses and never as loud as the others. But the valley always carried their calls to you, teaching you their voices. They were faceless friends in your solitude.

So you call out into the night. The long howl a poor imitation of theirs, straining your vocal cords.

The night grows still. All goes quiet. As the silence passes for a beat, then another, your smile slowly falters and fades. A pang of disappointment and a small bubble of guilt at interrupting their conversation.

All animals, even fierce predators, could be skittish. You worried that your call had scared them off, ruining your chances of ever spotting them. With a hop you jump off the tailgate, slamming it shut in frustration. Heavy feet stomping all the way onto the porch and inside. You could only hope they hadn’t heard your foolishness and that something else has quieted them.

The night remains silent as you crawl into bed. The night song ending early and sewing sadness into your dreams.

But they had heard you.

Your distinctly human howling calling to a dormant part of their minds. They remembered themselves. They remembered their life in the valley. They remembered the house where their human lives were lived.

And they were coming home.

[delicatestones]

Every time I think about the Travelers I black out a little. Every angle you can approach them from reveals new fucked up Situations. The inherent dynamic of your 'team leader' being the actual team leader's probationary boyfriend who would sell every other member of the team to One Direction for a corn chip and a vague promise of Maybe Helping His Girlfriend and who has gotten increasingly less concerned about pretending that's not true to anyone's faces. Once he fucked up and called someone by the numerical rank of 'Value To Operation Saving Noelle' he's assigned them all in his head and then refused to tell anyone else what their number was and they all just had to live with that one. They have to let him keep making the worst decisions imaginable because none of them can bear the consequences of shouldering the responsibility themselves. He put a thirteen year old in a Wire Strangling-Slicing Murder Art Piece as a distraction. He makes everyone put on colour coordinated black and red outfits because it's 'intimidating'. He's the worst and bravest person they know. He's going to get everybody killed and he's the reason they're all still alive. He is wearing a top hat. They are all in hell.

[aphroditelovesu]

this is going to end badly, but... Can you do Yandere love letter where the boys found out Reader cheated on them?

The Yandere love letter from Alexander The Great, Julius Caesar, Napoleon, and Henry VIII pls

Alexander the Great

My Queen,

May your betrayal be your own curse. If you persist on this path, know that I am capable of things that not even the gods would dare to speak of. My wrath is relentless and uncontrollable when it comes to the woman I once loved.

As for this man you cheated on me with, know that he is playing with death itself. I, who faced entire armies, will pursue him to the end of the earth, and he will find no refuge. If he touches you again, not a stone will be left unturned in his city, and he will be remembered as a traitor until the end of time.

I swear I will destroy his city, put men to the sword and sell their women and children into slavery. And then I will deal with you.

You, (Y/N), have the power to avert this dark fate. Return to my arms, renounce this treachery, and perhaps I will consider showing leniency. If not, know that my vengeance is a storm no mortal can weather. Make no mistake though, because you will be punished and I guarantee you won't like your punishment, my love.

This is your last chance, my Queen. Return to me and hand over your wretched lover and perhaps I will show you mercy.

With fury and despair,

Alexander.

Julius Caesar

My love,

Today, darkness enveloped my heart. The news of her betrayal, my sweet wife, tears me apart in a way that not even the bloodiest battles have been able to do.

For you, I crossed oceans and crossed deserts, shed blood and brought down empires. However, I realize that the hardest battle I face is the one you fought on the sly with another man. I feel betrayed, but also consumed by a sick, and furious love that burns like the fire of Rome.

I will not allow him to breathe the same air as you, to touch your skin as I did, to steal your love from me. I will hunt him down, torture him, and kill him.

(Y/N), my wife, my life and my soul belong to you. If you continue with this traitor, I swear I will make an example of him, a warning for all to see. I'll make an example of you. You are my wife, my reason for living, and I won't let anything or anyone take you away from me.

Reflect on your actions, my beloved, for my passion is stronger than any army, hotter than any fire. I won't forgive you, but I'm willing to compromise.

With angry and love,

Julius Caesar.

Napoleon Bonaparte

My beloved wife,

I write these words with a heavy heart and a mind tormented by the thoughts that have invaded my soul. I found out that you, my beloved wife, betrayed the trust that we once placed in each other.y pain is indescribable, my mind troubled by terrible visions of your betrayal.

You know what I can do when faced with challenges when those I love are threatened. My reputation as a military leader is widely known, but what you may not know is that my love for you is just as fierce.

I know where you've been, who you've been with, and what you've done. Every detail is etched in my mind like a scar, a scar that burns like lava from a volcano. (Y/N), my love, I solemnly warn you that if you persist in this betrayal, the consequences will be dire. The fire that burns in my chest can be directed to protect or to destroy, and you must choose wisely.

Reflect on what we have together, on the lives we've built, and on the price that may be paid for your actions. My love for you runs deep, and I will not hesitate to use every means in my power to keep what's mine. You are mine and I will destroy anyone who gets in my way, especially that damn lover of yours. But don't worry, I've already dealt with it myself.

I pray that reason prevails in your heart, for my passion and my anger are a force that cannot be contained. I hope you make the right choice and maybe I'll be benevolent.

With love and so much jealousy,

Napoleon.

Henry VIII

My sweet wife,

I write these words with a rage that burns hotter than the sun. My trust in you has been unacceptably betrayed, and my rage is untamed. How dare you betray me, a woman who swore allegiance to me and our kingdom?

I, Henry VIII, a mighty and formidable king, will not tolerate such dishonor. You must be aware that by challenging my authority and my love, by violating our marriage, you are playing with your own destiny. With your life.

My spies have reported every detail of your heinous betrayals, (Y/N). There is no escape, no hiding place where you can hide. My anger is like an approaching storm, and the thunder of my vengeance will resound across England.

You, who shared my bed and my trust, now face the wrath of a disgraced monarch. Have no illusions my dear as my love for you has turned into a darkness that will swallow up everything in its path. And it's all your fault.

(Y/N), if you wish to avoid a dark and terrible fate, I suggest you change course immediately. Renounce your betrayals and be my loyal wife again, and I can show you mercy, but not your damned lover. No. He's already dead. Should you decide to disobey me once more, the sword will fall on your head, as it fell on others who dared to defy me.

With unabated fury,

Henry.

[yourjughead]

Attack Dog pt.2

Sweet Pea X Reader enemies to lovers

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

Hey wait up Brass Knuckles” Sweet Pea easily reached you in a light jog. You gritted your teeth to push down the pain of the spasm in your leg at the end of its contractions. You pulled your hood up before returning an arm to your thigh. 

“So I'm not even gonna get a thank you Princess?” You stopped dead, if even to just give your leg a break from your weight. 

“What do you want a fucking medal?” you shot. 

“Listen, from where I'm stood, you need me a lot than I need you right now, so you wanna maybe try another tone? Let me help you home” You just rolled your eyes at him and began to limp along again. Sweet Pea went to put an arm around you to support your weight only to be met with the palms of your hands into his chest pushing him away. 

“Do. Not. Touch. Me.” You snapped. 

“Okay fine, hobble along, maybe I should go back and tell them where you've gone to or who you are?” You stopped again, your leg sending a shot of warning pain down to your toes. You exhaled loudly before stretching out an arm allowing Sweet Pea to pass beneath it and support your weight with his shoulders. 

“What are you even doing out this far this late?” He didn't leave the silence between you stay that long. 

“Trying to sort through my thoughts”

“Yes I hear punching the leaders of gangs is very good for that” you glanced worriedly at him. 

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean what I said, or is that rain jacket cutting the blood flow to your ears” he threw your early words back at you. 

“I didn't know that's who he was, a weird man grabbed me, it was instinct”

“It's a real shame you hate Serpents so much, that was a very Serpent thing to do” you scoffed at him. 

“Why'd you even help me anyways?” 

“I was in between shifts selling drugs to children” he gave a small laugh and you fought away a smile. You both carried on along the road for awhile without speaking.

“This changes nothing”

“Whatever you say Princess”

“Stop calling me that” 

“Fine, I'll go back to attack dog, seems more fitting now anyways” you didn't care about the pain in your leg, you snatched your arm back from over him and tucked it into your side. Your surroundings started to become more familiar to you as you got closer to the Northside once again. Sweet Pea slowed behind you and you turned, surprised he didn't badger you about not letting him help.

“What?”

“Nothing I just… I just don't like being over there without my friends” Sweet Pea nodded in the direction of where you grew up and you couldn't help but laugh.

“Afraid of the little Northsiders? Very surprising” you teased but he didn't quip back. 

“If anyone asks, you weren't on the Southside alone, I wasn't on the Northside alone, everyone stayed where they're supposed to” you nodded in agreement, happy to forget this night. Your cadence evened as your leg finally relaxed after being electrified. 

“Well….I got it from here, thanks I guess”

“Wow who knew Northsiders had manners?”

“Who knew Serpents even knew the word manners?” He scoffed at you before gesturing for you to keep walking without him.

-

Sweet Pea POV 

Monday morning came around, the junior Serpents were alive with discussions of last Friday night.

“I heard a Ghoulie girl came up and clocked him”

“I heard it was a girl from New York”

“I heard it was his long lost daughter” I buried a smile at my friends and their theories. Thank god no one got a good look at her. Why do I even care? She's so nasty to us. It kept me awake all night. Why did I help her? Why am I still thinking about it? I looked out from my locker to ask Jughead a question to find him staring longingly at YN. I tried not to roll my eyes. Our friends lost in their theories.

“What's up Jones?” 

“Nothing”

“Nah, you're looking at your attack dog more like she's a cuddly Pomeranian” I closed the locker and leaned on it alongside him. 

“She's not like that normally, she just has a lot on her plate” 

“And do you also wanna be on that plate?” Couldn't help myself, he pushed me sideways along the locker smiling.

“Maybe I did once but the way she looks at me now….she hates me”

“No no, she looks at me like she hates me, she looks at you like she's trying to figure out her next move with you. Just give her the time and space to figure it out” his head shot in my direction.

“And you know this because why? You look at her a lot?” If I was being honest I did find my eyes on YN a lot, every class we shared, she was more interesting that whatever the teachers were droning on about. 

“No no, just an observation I made, part of my job to be….. observant” he looked at me like he didn't believe me. I didn't believe me. Lucky for me he didn't speak whatever he was thinking. I took a stolen glance at YN laughing down the hall with her friends. I wish I could make her laugh like that. 

“Right I've had enough, I'm gonna talk to her today, I can't keep going on pretending I don't miss her” 

“Careful Jones, that's not very Serpent of you”

“Yeah…but maybe I don't want to be a Ser-” I cut him off, my temper taking me as I caught his shirt.

“Don't finish that sentence unless you mean it. You're either with us or against us” our friends stopped gossiping and stared at us. I released my grip before pushing off the locker and heading down the hall. I don't like when people use me and my friends. Was he just using us until he got back to here? I met YNs eyes, she saw everything. Good job Sweet Pea I'm sure that'll help the situation. 

-

I sat on the end of bleachers of the football pitch during lunch, the only place I could have a cigarette without a teacher freaking out at me. 

“Yanno that'll kill you?” I turned to find YN sat a little distance from me. 

“Funny, Jones said the same thing about you to me” I hear her give a half-suppressed laugh at me. Not quite the hearty laugh I heard from her this morning but I'll take what I can get.

“What was that with Jughead this morning? Tell him what happened with us on Friday?” 

“Us? Oh no no Princess, you get all the credit for your right hook, all the blame too” I crushed the cigarette into the bleacher before chewing on some gum. 

“You know what I meant” she kept her gaze on the field of football players doing their lunch time training as she spoke. 

“Don't worry I didn't say anything. I was just giving him advice on what you need-”

“-And how the hell would you know what I need!”

“Well I think you need a good fuck cause that's the only thing I think that'll get you to stop being so up tight-” her head shot to me, no longer concerned with who saw us talking.

“-but I settled for the old reliable give her time and space” I watched her chest release the full capacity of air from her lungs before taking another deep breath. She shuffled slightly before zipping up her sweatshirt. Oh shit I was just staring at her chest.

“I didn't…I didn't mean that I want to be the one to….fuck you…I meant …” I didn't know what I meant so I shut myself up and waited for the bleachers to swallow me whole. She scoffed before returning her eyes to the field, watching Archie passing the ball around. 

“I'm not normally like this, I'm just finding it hard to find my feet back here again. So much change here and when I was out moving house every few months the only thing that kept me sane was knowing this place would stay my constant. Now that's changed too” her head dropped down slightly with her lowered tone. 

“I umm I don't know why I just told you that”

“The Serpents are my constant, I know you don't like us but they were the only ones to care about me growing up. I don't like when that's disrespected, that's what the thing with Jughead and I was about this morning” 

“Careful there snake brain, your human side is showing” I grinned at her comment. The lunch bell rang out across the school, sending YN and me our separate ways for the day, the whole interaction not leaving my thoughts for the rest of the week

Part 3

[make-friends-with-the-rats]

Newsies (1992) Press Kit Photo Cards

RIGHT: Acclaimed choreographer Kenny Ortega makes his feature film directing debut with Walt Disney Pictures' exciting new live-action musical entertainment, "Newsies." LEFT: (Top) Behind the camera, Ortega prepares to shoot a scene from his new film. (Below), Ortega (second from right) rehearses a dance sequence with some of his "newsies." Christian Bale and Bill Pullman star with Ann-Margaret and Robert Duvall. A Walt Disney Pictures presentation in association with Touchwood Pacific Partners I, "Newsies" is directed by Kenny Ortega from a screenplay written by Bob Tzudiker and Noni White, with original songs by Alan Menken and Jack Feldman. The film is produced by Michael Finnell. Buena Vista Pictures distributes.

RIGHT: Christian Bale stars as feisty newspaper boy Jack Kelly who mobilizes his fellow "newsies" to fight the publishing moguls who raise the price of their papers, in Walt Disney Pictures' exciting new live-action musical entertainment, "Newsies." RIGHT: (Top) Making their protest public, the newsies, including Jack (Bale, center) march in the streets to the song "Carrying the Banner." (Below) Jack (Bale, left) discovers romance with Sarah (Ele Keats, right) the one person who encourages him to follow his dreams. Bill Pullman also stars with Ann-Margaret and Robert Duvall. A Walt Disney Pictures presentation in association with Touchwood Pacific Partners I, "Newsies" is directed by Kenny Ortega from a screenplay written by Bob Tzudiker and Noni White, with original songs by Alan Menken and Jack Feldman. The film is produced by Michael Finnell. Buena Vista Pictures distributes.

TOP: Academy Award-nominee Ann-Margaret stars as good-hearted saloon singer Medda Larkson, who adds her voice to the chorus of public disapproval over the way the newspaper giants are treating the newsies who sell the papers in Walt Disney Pictures' exciting new live-action musical entertainment "Newsies." BELOW: Triumphant in their strike against the powerful newspaper publishers, the newsies express their victory in the streets of New York. Christian Bale, Bill Pullman and Robert Duvall also star. A Walt Disney Pictures presentation in association with Touchwood Pacific Partners I, "Newsies" is directed by Kenny Ortega from a screenplay written by Bob Tzudiker and Noni White, with original songs by Alan Menken and Jack Feldman. The film is produced by Michael Finnell. Buena Vista Pictures distributes.

TOP: Things get out of hand when powerful New York publishers raise the price of their papers and try to squeeze more money out of the "newsies" - the boys who deliver the papers, in Walt Disney Pictures' exciting new live-action musical entertainment, "Newsies." BELOW: Robert Duvall (left) stars as Joseph Pulitzer, the owner of The World who sees a way to increase his profits at the expense of the "newsies" including the kids' leader, Jack (Christian Bale, right). Bill Pullman also stars with Ann-Margaret. A Walt Disney Pictures presentation in association with Touchwood Pacific Partners I, "Newsies" is directed by Kenny Ortega from a screenplay written by Bob Tzudiker and Noni White, with original songs by Alan Menken and Jack Feldman. The film is produced by Michael Finnell. Buena Vista Pictures distributes.

TOP: When the powerful New York newspaper publishers raise the cost of their dailies at the expense of the kids who sell the papers, the "newsies" including David Jacobs (David Moscow, center) make the injustice public as they raise their voices in song and declare "The World Will Know," in Walt Disney Pictures' exciting new live-action musical entertainment, "Newsies." BELOW: (Left) David Moscow stars as David Jacobs, an energetic newsie fighting against the injustice of higher newspaper prices. (Right) Jack (Christian Bale, second from left) inspires his fellow newsies, including David Jacobs (David Moscow, third from right) to join the newspaper boys' strike. Bill Pullman also stars with Ann-Margaret and Robert Duvall. A Walt Disney Pictures presentation in association with Touchwood Pacific Partners I, "Newsies" is directed by Kenny Ortega from a screenplay written by Bob Tzudiker and Noni White, with original songs by Alan Menken and Jack Feldman. The film is produced by Michael Finnell. Buena Vista Pictures distributes.

TOP: Surrounded by fellow newsies, Racetrack (Max Castella, center) vows to beat the powerful newspaper publishers at their own game as he sings "King of New York," in Walt Disney Pictures exciting new live-action musical entertainment, "Newsies." BELOW: (Left to right) Dee Caspary, Dominic Maldonado and Joseph Conrad star as three of the dynamic newsies who are forced to fight against the unfair practices of the big city newspaper owners. Christian Bale and Bill Pullman also star with Ann-Margaret and Robert Duvall. A Walt Disney Pictures presentation in association with Touchwood Pacific Partners I, "Newsies" is directed by Kenny Ortega from a screenplay written by Bob Tzudiker and Noni White, with original songs by Alan Menken and Jack Feldman. The film is produced by Michael Finnell. Buena Vista Pictures distributes.

Cards I do not have but that exist:

[source]

[source]

[youabandonedthem]

slick and crowbar's mental versions of reality if they were forced to lead each other's gangs - visual concepts

basic hypothesis: their mental states would progress in opposite directions. Slick at first would think of it as no big deal and that he can handle "a bunch of soddin retards," and would treat all of them similarly to the way he treats deuce, dispensing orders and hitting and hurting them as he feels necessary. however after a maximum of 3 weeks with a lack of access to sentient minds and as the repeated corporal punishments show diminishing returns he would begin to feel the ramifications of being surrounded by what he thinks of as 14 deuces. this would go along with the added stress of living in an environment that constitutes his personalised hell (clocks/frogs/green/snowman). the visceral disturbance within him gradually builds up and when someone taller than him tugs on his coat collar and asks him to tuck them in to bed his mind would snap. his violence against them despite being their leader would become gratuitous. when the solid colours use their abilities to prank him he would begin reacting disproportionately. he would be speedwalking through the halls holding his head and hallucinating slime while a felt member is following him begging for something to do. squeezing his eye closed saying "shut up shut up shut up" even when nobody is talking anymore. he would have broken most clocks in the mansion even the ones they try to replace but continues to hear them tick. unless the situation or environment changes he would continue to deteriorate.

meanwhile crowbar would be locked in psychological warfare with the crew who will never accept him as one of their own for biological and ideological reasons. The best metaphor for crowbar's usual environment compared to this new one is if he were a special needs summer camp counsellor now placed with 'troubled teens' who sit through him explaining various preplanned activities then stare at him with contempt and only do whatever they ideologically agree with doing. The first scene would involve this new arrangement sitting in the hideout around the table in silence and he tries to say one thing and smoke gets blown in his face. after a few seconds he starts saying something else and a low growling sound is heard and he shuts up completely. everyone would be conscious of the missing piece in the crew and the replacement that doesnt belong. everything he says would be scrutinised and he would feel the need to explain/justify most of his decisions especially to droog who he thinks of as intelligent and refined. (he fully buys into the image that droog sells). he does everything he can to rise up from the idiotic association of the felt even though he would defend his gang/species to the end of the earth if they were directly insulted. the only one who is nice to him (agreeing with all of his ideas, baking cookies in the shape of his face, consistently making a point of calling him "boss," etc) is clubs deuce which is so disconcerting compared to the treatment from the other two it leads him to believe deuce is the true mastermind in this situation, deliberately trying to earn his trust in order to weaken his defences. He would periodically go back and forth between this paranoia and phases where he is almost "fooled" by deuce's behaviour.

however after 6-12 months of this psychological warfare crowbar would eventually realise he has now adapted to the crew's individual ways and personalities. he ultimately learns how to act so that they will work with him even though he will never truly synergise or fully understand their ways of communication. and when he finally returns to the felt he'll somewhat MISS being with the crew but ultimately rejoin the gang he belongs to with a new outlook and wlil begin making more of an effort to encourage their independence and individual strengths. whereas slick would barely learn anything from this experience because it is pure mental torture for him. He would slither back up to his crew wordlessly and the only thing he would note is how much better it feels to be around them and little else. the scenario would serve no greater purpose either other than hypothetical psychological experimentation that only lats the duration it takes for them to both reach a plateau of torment

[imthepunchlord]

I think I know why Miraculous is so addictive even to people who don't like the show. Miraculous is a show that had a lot of good interesting concepts and ideas with a lot of potential. Like the kwamis and miraculous as a concept is a creative playground where you could do almost anything with it, and a lot of the characters in the show at their cores had a lot of potential and could have gone in really interesting directions. It's just that the show and its writers fumbled the execution of a lot of these concepts and characters, taking in probably the worst directions. I think that's why you see a lot of people re-imagining the series with these characters and concepts. Heck it's also probably why quite a few people take the base concept of the kwamis and miraculous, re-imagine them, and create a completely new story, like @callimara Wildward au and even your animula au.

Essentially so!

Concept wise, it's really, really great.

Everyone likes animals, and this is a chance for your favorite animal to pop up and have a hero worked around them. And that animal can exist as a cute little plush to sell with them being little mascots. Additionally, because animals can be visually interesting or be tied to certain ideas, you can do some really fun designs or ideas. Lions could be tied to kings or knights. Butterfly or Peafowl could be tied to formal attire or something with a performance motif. You could even use animals as a means to work around disabilities or limitations. Like, someone who can't walk or has trouble walking, if they want mobility, they could get Horse and become a "centaur" with the "miraculous" giving them a mecha horse body they can sit inside and it'll move for them. Not remove the disability, but offer enhancements to give them a way to work around it.

And what's clever is that animals are important to people, all over the world, we all have some mythology and folklore about animals, they represent certain symbols for us. And when you factor that in, hey, this animal could offer an idea for a power, and you could make a superhero character working off all that animal represents across the globe, or even just working off what your own views of that animal is.

Foxes are often portrayed as tricksters everywhere, so being an illusionist is a natural fit.

Horses across the globe represent travel, so doing a power based around movement works, be it super speed or teleportation. You can also work off horses tied to bravery, knights, and facing dangers and do something with the white knight idiom.

Rabbit's are fast, so super speed could be a natural fit. Or if you want to reference Alice in Wonderland, I would've voted dream hopping as the power, as one of the things that stuck with me was Alice thinking it was a dream, and dreams can be bizarre and random.

Owls are often tied to death, so something related to death could go to Owl, or you can work off owls commonly tied to clocks and it could have time powers.

And then you got the merit that with all animals can represent and be tied to, they can play a part in a character's growth. They can be their foil, challenge them as they are, and help pave the way to improvement.

Like, take my concept hero, Humdinger.

She's planned to start out as a "Lone Ranger"/the Loner, thinking she doesn't need to rely on others or only she can solve issues herself. And she's paired with Bee who is about community and teamwork. So you have a nice set up on how she's going to start, and how Bee will help her grow as a character.

And what's extra nice, is that writing wise, animals can give you some light guidelines to work off of, on what their roles can be.

You need a villain? Well, there's the "Big Bad Wolf". Snakes and spiders are also big symbols of fear.

This can also go into the Five Man Band if you're not sure how to do a group.

You need a Leader? There's Lion and Eagle to work off of.

You need a Lancer to challenge the Leader? Well, could do Bear or Wolf.

You need a Smart Guy? Fox, Owl, and Raven are all tied to intelligence.

You need a Tank/Strong Man? There's the iconic Bull, could also do Turtle.

You need the Heart, who's usually the love interest and keeps the group together? There's Ladybird, Dog, or Swan. Those are heavily tied to love.

And there's the fun of the little animal beings that power these heroes. You can write them based on animal archetype, you can write them based on their mythology and symbolism. You can tie them to mythical figures. You could delve into the unique morals and views they have. Like the snake could understand duality, or promotes the stance of duality, toeing the line between good and justice, or doing something bad and chaotic. The bee wants humans to live with integrity, work with others, see work done. The lion wants humans to be leaders and to face obstacles bravely, ect..

Additionally, based on folklore and mythology and how animals are in real life, you can get into some really interesting dynamics to explore between these little beings. The truthful rooster hates the deceptive fox. The wolf has a rivalry with the fox and the lion. The bee dislikes the bear cause the bear eats all of her honey. Turtle and snake are best friends. Eagle and horse are best friends. Ect..

Concept wise, this is brilliant for a series. By their symbolism, folklore, cultural views, and mythology, animals can give you so much to work with. And you can have nice guidelines to work off of, or you can do a different spin on those guidelines, like maybe the usually noble Lion is the villain and the often villainous Snake is the hero.

There's just so much you can do with the concept, so many possibilities. And it's a shame that it's used in this romance focused show, which isn't even a good romance, and it's just so uninspired and lazy, and where kwamis easily could've been the most fascinating part of it, they're just pointless inclusions.

And you just see that potential and how it's wasted.

At least for me, that's what has me wanting to do my own take on the concept and do something with the animula. There's a lot of possibilities for what they can do, and could easily be so interesting if given proper attention.

[slayfics]

Kai has you sale bullets.

Warnings: violence, blood, AFAB reader

1.3k words

The sound of the car hummed. A few heads turned to glance at the all-blacked-out car. A dark tint that was surely past legal.

You watched the buildings pass as the driver turned down an alleyway. You and Kai sat in the back, a briefcase between you both.

"You understand the plan?" Kai asked gold eyes sliding over to you.

You nodded, as the car came to a stop.

"Good tell me," He urged.

"You want me to sell the prototype bullets to these guys, make sure it's the correct amount of money, then come back," you answered, fidgeting in your seat re-adjusting your much too tightly fitting dress.

"Emphasis on the sell, make sure they understand the true potential of what we're offering them. These bunch aren't too savory, so you'll need to be stern," he added.

"If that's true, should I be going in alone?" You asked, feeling the unease kick in. It was your first official sale and you wanted to believe Kai wouldn't put you in a potentially dangerous situation, yet your hands still shake.

"If I hear any unnecessary ruckus I'll come in," he spoke attempting to soothe your nerves. "Besides, it makes a better statement if it's only you. Shows our buyers we pose no threat to them, and we are confident in our product." He concluded.

You nodded and took a deep breath. Uneasily grabbing the suitcase.

"I'll be right here," he reassured you once more.

You gave him a faint smile before leaving the comfort of the car. The alleyway door was cold and grimy. It didn't look like the base for some dangerous villains, but you figured that was the point.

The door opened to a long dark hallway with a dim light at the end. You strode down the hallway attempting to have your strides sound as confident as possible, the sound of your heels echoing loudly.

Following the dim light, the hallway opened up to a plain room. It became clear this wasn't the real base for this group. Just a safe meeting point they had decided upon. Information you noted to inform Kai about later.

The room had one large table that five men were sitting around, one dressed in a vest lazily on top of the table feet dangling as his eyes widened at the sight of you.

The man who sat at the head of the table let out an amused laugh, "I didn't know the Yakuza had any women working for them," he commented. You recognized this man to be the leader of this group.

"Damn you aren't bad looking either," The man in the vest said jumping off the table to move closer to you.

"As flattered as I am let's get down to business," you redirected the conversation.

"Alright then, exactly how much is this product?" The leader asked you.

"As my boss probably already explained, these bullets eliminate quirks. To date there hasn't been anything else that's-," You began your sales pitch before getting cut off.

"Save me the speech, just tell me the price sweetheart," the leader pressured.

"First time it's 5 million Yen a bullet," you spoke, opening the suitcase to display the bullets inside.

"Wow, no wonder he sent beautiful women to give that news." the leader mused.

"For that price do you come with them?" The man wearing the vest asked stalking closer to you.

You attempted to keep your stance firm, but you couldn't help the way your legs trembled. It was painfully obvious to you that you were outnumbered in this room. It wouldn't be unimaginable that the men would gang up on you.

Kai wouldn't let that happen though, right?

"If you can't afford our product, what makes you think you can afford me?" You hissed back at the man drawing closer to you.

The man's face flashed with anger as he reached out to grab your face in his hands, fingers pressed firmly into your cheeks he directed you to look him in the eyes, "Do you talk back to Overhaul like that?"

"Careful," his leader called out to him. "Overhaul has a distaste for germs, he's not going to like you touching his things."

"Thing about germs hu? No wonder you look so scared. Not used to being touched, are you?" The man taunted further squeezing your cheeks tighter. "That's a pity that he doesn't enjoy you to your fullest potential."

Reaching your limit, you struck the man across the face with the back of your hand. The man stumbled back hitting against the wall. Your slap and the man thudding against the wall echoed down the hallway.

Loud enough for Kai to hear in the quiet alleyway, you thought. Yet the man was looking up at you with venom in his eyes now and Kai wasn't coming. Your blood ran cold.

Were you just another disposable pawn to Kai?

"Fucking bitch doesn't he teach you how to behave," the man barked, heavy hand coming up to slam your head against the table.

The commotion was now undoubtedly audible from the alleyway, but no intervention from Kai came.

Head pressed against the table the man continued to spew insults at you. Making a quick decision you grabbed one of the bullets from the suitcase and jammed it into his hand. Enough pressure that the quirk-eliminating effect was activated.

"The hell!?" The man exclaimed, stepping backward and freeing you from his grasp. Pulling the bullet out of his hand he began to panic. "My quirk won't activate!" he yelled and looked at his leader.

His leader simply shrugged, "I told you not to touch Overhaul's things. We'll take five of those sweetheart," he said sliding another suitcase across the table to you. "And make sure to extend my apologies to Overhaul for your head." The leader said noting the blood that now dripped down your forehead.

You opened the suitcase ensuring the correct amount was inside before leaving five bullets on the table, and scoffed, "No need to apologize, my head is exceptional." Giving a wink you turned to stride back down the hallway.

Hand gripped so tight on the suitcase your knuckles were white. Just hold it together for a few more moments, you told yourself.

Entering back into the car, a flood of emotions rushed over you.

Kai took one glance at the blood dripping down your forehead and scooted away, "You look filthy," he commented.

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO COME FOR ME!" You yelled, the pent-up emotions flying out. The gravity of the situation you had just been put in crashed down on you.

"Stay on that side," he instructed, disgust on his face from your open wound.

But his comment was drowned out by your panic state, "I SCREAMED! DIDN'T YOU HEAR?!" You yelled at him. "I DON'T WANT TO DO THAT AGAIN KAI!" You cried, tears flowing down your face now.

"Quite down, and stay over there," he instructed once more.

"That man threatened me and what was I supposed to do- there were five of them!" you gulped.

Unmoved by your fear and the situation he had set you up to be in Kai removed the glove from his hand, swiftly pressing his hand over your mouth silencing you. You felt a pain that could only be described as every cell in your body being on fire.

"Do I need to remind you of your place?" he asked calmly.

Eyes widened, panic re-setting in, the reality of death set on your chest. You shook your head no, silent tears now running from your eyes trickled down Kai's hand.

You were just a pawn.

A pretty salesman.

In too deep to run away now.

sinners: @mintsbubbletea @lalachanya @unofficialmuilover @starieq @that-one-fangirl69

[gothhabiba]

What's going on in the Armenian Quarter of Jerusalem? a timeline

Background

700s-1920s: Armenian Christians immigrate to Palestine, at first due to the holy sites there and later (after 1915) fleeing the Armenian genocide. Most of them end up living in a section of Jerusalem known as the Armenian Quarter. An Armenian church / Patriarchate is established that has authority over Armenian Apostolic Christians everywhere.

1923-1947: Britain (who had been given the "mandate," aka direct governmental control, of Palestine by other European colonial powers), empowers Patriarchates in Jerusalem (church leadership) to do things like select their own leaders and sell land without oversight from their communities. This gives Britain more authority and prevents regular Palestinian people from knowing what's going on when it comes to church business including secret real estate deals.

2005-2019: Land in Jerusalem belonging to the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate is sliced up, sold, and developed despite attempts to fight it in Israeli courts.

July 2021: The Armenian Patriarchate makes a deal leasing 2.7 acres of land to real estate / development company Xana Gardens (based in Dubai and owned by Israeli businessman Danny Rothman) for between 49 and 98 years. The deal is made without proper oversight and approval, including from within the Patriarchate.

The land in question includes the historical Cows' Garden (Hadiqa al-Baqar / حديقة البقر), now a parking lot; part of a church school; a garden; and five family houses. It makes up about 1/4 of the total land in the Armenian Quarter. No one knows that more than just Cows' Garden is affected.

Xana Gardens wants to build a luxury hotel on some of this land, including Cow's Garden.

Events in 2023

May: Details of the nature of the real estate deal come out. The government of Jordan (I think? these news reports are written in the passive voice) and Armenian institutions try to contact the Patriarchate to express concern about the handling of historically significant sites. The Patriarch does not respond.

11 May: Jordan and Palestine suspend their recognition of Patriarch Nourhan Manougian.

26 October: The Patriarchate announces that it has contacted Xana Gardens to cancel the deal. Xana Gardens does not respond.

Later on 26 October (around 3pm): Israeli bulldozers arrive at Cows' Garden and start tearing up pavement and demolishing a wall. Armenians rush to stand in front of bulldozers and prevent further destruction.

5 November: Rothman and other representatives of Xana Gardens arrive with 15 settlers and tell local Armenians that the land is theirs and they need to leave. Some of the settlers have guns and leashed dogs. About 200 Armenian Palestinians arrive and force the settlers to stand down.

12 and 13 November: Xana Gardens sends bulldozers to Cows' Garden. They do not have necessary permits. Armenians set up constantly rotating vigils at the Gardens and make barricades with pieces of metal and their cars.

15 November, 4:30pm: Israeli settlers drive a convoy of cars into the Garden. Armenians gather around the barricades. The police back the settlers and arrest three Armenians, including one child.

28th December: 30+ settlers attack a group of Armenian bishops, priests, deacons, and seminary students (including Bishop Koryoun Baghdasaryan, the director of the Patriarchate's real estate department) with sticks and nerve agents / tear gas, injuring several.

28th December, later: The Patriarchate releases a statement attributing the attack to Xana Gardens. The development company does not want the Patriarchate to continue trying to reverse the deal through the court system.

[clairedaring]

Glass Heart, based on Wakagi Mio’s best-selling light novel, is coming to Netflix in 2025. Executively co-produced and starring Takeru Satoh, Glass Heart also stars Yu Miyazaki, Keita Machida, Jun Shison, and Masaki Suda. The drama is directed by Kakimoto Kensaku and will distributed worldwide on Netflix in 2025.

Plot

Akane Saijo, a college student and aspiring drummer finds herself suddenly kicked out of her band for arbitrary reasons. Things take a turn when Naoki Fujitani, a musical prodigy known as "Amadeus of Rock", stumbles upon her talent and invites her to join his newly formed band "Ten Blank".

Characters

Satoh Takeru as Naoki Fujitani, the leader, vocalist and bassist of Ten Blank

Miyazaki Yu as Akane Saijo, the determined drummer of Ten Blank

Machida Keita as Takashi Takaoka, the diligent guitarist of Ten Blank

Shison Jun as Kazushi Sakamoto, the introspective keyboardist and music geek of Ten Blank

Suda Masaki as Kiriya Masaki, the charismatic vocalist of the rival band to Ten Blank

Renowned directors Kensaku Kakimoto (Parasite in Love) and Kotaro Goto (The Naked Director) are at the helm of the series. Mari Okada, the acclaimed scriptwriter behind popular titles such as Anohana: The Flower We Saw That Day and The Anthem of the Heart, takes charge of writing the story alongside a talented team of emerging female scriptwriters.

Glass Heart sets a new benchmark in Japanese drama with its massive filming scale, including scenes featuring tens of thousands of extras for music performances. The actors also went through intensive training to master their instruments so they can play authentically. Prepare to be swept off your feet by the passion, music, and drama when Glass Heart premieres in 2025.

Read more at Netflix Press Release

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

Netflix Series 'Glass Heart'

Cast: Takeru Satoh, Yu Miyazaki, Keita Machida, Jun Shison, Masaki Suda

Based on the novel: 'Glass Heart' by Mio Wakagi 

Directors: Kensaku Kakimoto, Kotaro Goto 

Screenplay: Mari Okada, Tomoko Akutsu, Shiho Kosaka, Anna Kawahara 

Co-executive Producer: Takeru Satoh

Producer: Go Abe 

Line Producer: Hirofumi Sakurai

Production: ROBOT 

Produced by: Netflix

[directsellingnow]

विराट महिला उद्यमी सम्मेलन: Direct Selling से जुड़ी महिलाओं के लिए बड़ा ऐलान!

8 मार्च को अंतरराष्ट्रीय महिला दिवस के अवसर पर, नई दिल्ली का इंदिरा गांधी इंडोर स्टेडियम ”विराट लखपति दीदी महिला उद्यमी महासम्मेलन” का साक्षी बना। डायरेक्ट सेलिंग (Direct Selling) इंडस्ट्री के मद्देनज़र आयोजित इस समारोह में केंद्रीय महिला एवं बाल विकास मंत्री श्रीमती स्मृति जुबिन ईरानी और केंद्रीय वाणिज्य एवं उद्योग, उपभोक्ता मामले, खाद्य एवं सार्वजनिक वितरण और कपड़ा मंत्री श्री पीयूष गोयल शामिल…

[rosanna-writer]

Love at First Sight's for Suckers (3/5)

Summary: [A Feysand Newsies AU] Rhysand had a reputation. A big reputation. But fortunately for Feyre, a newsie selling papers on the streets of Velaris, tabloid gossip about the handsome, charismatic, hard-partying war-hero of a High Lord's heir means business is booming. That is, until the city's newspaper magnates get greedy, Feyre finds herself an unwitting labor leader at the center of a strike, and Rhys becomes an unexpected ally... Warnings: None

We're back with our favorite Santa Fae <3 HUGE thank you to @itsthedoodle for continuing to beta my gift for @the-lonelybarricade!

Ch. 1 - Got a Feelin' 'bout the Headline | Ch. 2 - Beautiful. Smart. Independent. | Ch. 3 Guts and Glory

You can read the third chapter Here on AO3 or under the readmore.

That night turned out to be the longest of Feyre's life. There was barely time for a few hours of fitful sleep; instead, she was rousing newsies and mobilizing them to get the word out about the price increase before morning.

She started with Lucien. Then Bron and Hart and Alis and Les and Davey, newsies who she'd befriended and who'd listen to her. Once they learned that the marching orders came from the High Lady herself, the rest of the newsies of the Rainbow agreed to the strike readily.

And to Feyre's surprise, they also agreed to fan out across the city, spread the news, and cajole the rest of the city's newsies into striking alongside them. They looked to her for direction, and Feyre found herself dividing up the territory among them—Bone and Salt, Thread and Jewels, Hoof and Leaf.

But no one wanted to take the south side of the Sidra. That was Nesta's turf.

Given the choice, Feyre would rather fight a Middengard Wyrm than cross the Sidra for her sister's help. Any other newsie would probably feel the same; the south side fae were big and unflinchingly loyal to Nesta, who ran her side of the city like a well-oiled machine.

Nothing got past Nesta, though. Before Feyre even had the chance to summon up the courage to go see her sister, a note appeared out of thin air and fluttered down into Feyre's hands.

Waiting on proof that you won't fold at the first sign of trouble — N

That wasn't an outright insult, so Feyre supposed that was the best she could have hoped for. Even if it stung. For all her faults, though, Nesta was true to her word. Feyre pocketed the note and didn't bother with a reply; in the morning, she'd prove to her sister that the newsies of the Rainbow weren't backing down.

But it was more than just Nesta who doubted them. The responses came in one by one from the rest of the city, and they were all the same: they'd back up the Rainbow newsies…but only if Nesta did it first.

This would be a test. Feyre was sure of it, all the way down her bones, as the sky lightened in the east and stacks of papers were readied for distribution. For now, the newsies of the Rainbow would be standing alone.

Though on some level she'd expected it, Feyre's heart still sank at the sight of scabs lining up to buy papers to sell that morning. She wasn't the only one—a fight had nearly broken out immediately. Tensions might have boiled over if Feyre hadn't put an arm out to stop a newsie from charging right at them.

"Listen," she said, gentle but firm enough that the unionized newsies quieted as she spoke to the scabs, "I'm sure you were paid handsomely for this. But it isn't right. You've heard how they speak to us—if you ask Pulitzer, we're all gutter rats willing to stab each other in the back. There's no shame in being poor or lesser fae. We all deserve a fair deal. Every single one of us. So, please, I beg you…throw your papers down and join the strike."

By the time she finished speaking, even the fae passing by and going about their business stopped to listen to her. Feyre hoped the churning in her stomach didn't show on her face. For a few long moments, a heavy silence hung over the square.

One by one, the scabs dropped their papers.

The rest of the stacks of papers at the distribution window sat untouched after that. There hadn't been time to make banners or signs, but it was clear enough that the newsies of the Rainbow fully intended to ensure that every single paper went unsold. After all—by the end of the day, they'd be too out of date to be of use, anyway.

By noon, Feyre supposed, the message was received. She was already thinking ahead to votes and negotiations, demands they could make beyond just lowering the price of papers back down to what it had been originally. The strike might actually succeed.

And then a group of High Fae in identical police uniforms rounded the corner, and Feyre's hopes sank all at once. But she didn't panic, just gritted her teeth—she'd vowed to prove to Nesta that they wouldn't fold at the first sign of trouble, and trouble had arrived.

So Feyre marched forward to meet them. Head held high, she returned their stares and didn't bother glancing back to make sure the newsies of the Rainbow followed her.

The cops might have already been reaching for their nightsticks, but Feyre decided to make one attempt at resolving this peaceably. "Good afternoon," she said evenly, letting her voice carry. "Is there—"

But the thwack of a nightstick colliding with a newsie's jaw cut that short.

Feyre's hands curled into fists, her arms moving up to protect her face on instinct. Around her, the square erupted into chaos—shouting and newsies running in all directions. Something struck her in the side. She cried out in pain, too stunned to make herself incorporeal.

She scrambled backwards, glancing around for a flash of Lucien's red hair. If Feyre had to run, she wouldn't leave without him. All around her, newsies were fleeing or being dragged and winnowed away by police.

A shadow fell over the square, cast by a massive wingspan. An Illyrian warrior—what in the bottomless depths of the Cauldron was he doing in Velaris?—landed with his back to her, unsheathing a sword strapped along his spine. His wings flared out as if to shield her.

A vicious growl escaped the Illyrian. "Touch her again and you die," he spat at the cop, and Feyre recognized the voice. Not just any Illyrian warrior— Rhysand.

With a single deft movement of his wrist, Rhys used his sword to knock the nightstick out of the closest policeman's hand. It clattered to the pavement and rolled towards Feyre.

"What are you doing here?" Feyre hissed, picking up the nightstick.

"I told you I'd publicly support a strike, didn't I?"

There was no time to demand an explanation, not when Lucien was still nowhere in sight. Feyre threw herself into the fray. Hands grabbed at her, but she knocked them away with the nightstick before anyone could winnow her.

If they caught her, she'd end up in the Prison. Once, Feyre had nearly found herself trapped on that barren island of rock on the western shore. She wouldn't let it happen today, either.

She called Lucien's name, searching for any sign of him. There was none, but perhaps he'd already gotten to safety…

No, there he was, all the way across the square. Feyre called his name as she launched herself towards him. A cop was charging at Lucien, ready to strike or winnow him away.

Feyre reached for Lucien. So did the cop. But Lucien didn't see—he'd turned his head at the sound of her voice, and the officer was on the side where his missing eye narrowed his field of vision.

And Feyre wasn't fast enough. Her fingers closed around empty air. Lucien was gone.

Not just gone—taken to the Prison, with no hope of escaping that island full of monsters. Feyre choked back a sob.

Something tugged in her chest, urgent and insistent, as Rhys's voice filled her mind. Get. Home. I'm holding them off for you.

Feyre didn't need to be told twice—if she stayed any longer, she'd end up in the Prison, too. She faded until she was little more than a ghost, slipping from shadow to shadow until she was back at her tenement.

The Rainbow's High Lady should have been assessing the damage, getting a count of how many newsies had been arrested, and making sure any injured newsies who'd escaped found a healer. But Feyre was tired.

At at the sight of Lucien's empty bed, she finally let out the sob that she'd held back before running away. She'd never felt like a bigger idiot; going up against Pulitzer had been massively stupid, and now her best friend was paying the price. Dreams of a better world were just that—dreams. Nothing more.

So Feyre lifted the floorboard and gathered what she'd saved of the money Rhysand had tipped her. It was long past time to buy that one-way ticket to the Continent.

***

The force of his father's power knocked through Rhys's mental shields like a battering ram. House of Wind. Now.

Rhys sheathed his sword, glancing around the rapidly-emptying square. Feyre had disappeared safely into the shadows, and his work here was done. But the feral instinct to protect his mate hadn't disappeared with her. Rhys shot into the sky, hoping to clear his head before he misted anyone who looked at him the wrong way.

As he flew, Rhys shifted himself out of his leathers and back into a tunic—whatever explanation he gave his father, it would be better received if he looked less Illyrian. Less like a threat, if he was being honest.

But really, the only thing that would quell his father's anger would be telling him that Feyre was his mate. Rhys refused to take that option; his behavior might be excused as protectiveness typical of a mated male, but that wasn't worth exposing Feyre to pressure to accept the bond. She'd resent him for eternity for that.

So Rhys just steeled himself for whatever punishment his father would mete out. He'd endure anything if it meant Feyre had a choice.

The High Lord was waiting on the balcony of the House of Wind, and even from the sky, Rhys could see darkness swirling around him in furious, pulsing waves. He schooled his expression into careful neutrality as he landed.

"Would you please explain," the High Lord said, the mild words no less an ice-cold threat, "what exactly you were doing attacking a police officer in the middle of Velaris just now?"

"Preventing a bloodbath," Rhys said, just as coolly.

For a moment, night rippled between the High Lord and his heir as they stared each other down. Then Rhys's father turned on his heel and strode back into the House of Wind, clearly expecting Rhys to follow.

He hadn't yielded—Rhys knew this tactic well. He matched his father's long strides and awaited the dressing down that was meant to be overheard,not behind closed doors in the High Lord's study.

"A bloodbath might have been just the thing we needed, but everyone saw you protecting their ringleader. Do you understand the chaos that could cause in Velaris? A direct challenge to my authority, from my own heir. I won't have you starting riots, Rhysand."

Servants and courtiers alike scurried out of the way as they walked. Rhys made sure to keep his head held high.

"What they were doing….it wasn't right, High Lord." His father's title tasted like ash on Rhys's tongue.

" Right doesn't matter, keeping the peace does, especially in Velaris. I have half a mind to send you to Illyria if you're so intent on seeing this city burn to the ground."

Rhys nearly stumbled in shock—sending him to Illyria was the closest his father could manage to banishing him. Perhaps though, he shouldn't have been surprised. If the laws of Prythian had allowed it, Rhys suspected his father would have killed him before Rhys had a chance to ever challenge him for the throne.

"Velaris is my home now."

"You aren't acting like it. Undermine me again and I'll order Devlon to strip you of your rank and put you on border duty in the coldest corner of the Steppes."

A warning was more generous than Rhys had any right to expect. Though in truth, he suspected it wasn't mercy so much as his father's desire to keep a close eye on him that was allowing him to stay in the city for now.

"Thank you, father," he said with a curt nod.

They reached the High Lord's study, and the door slamming in Rhys's face was dismissal enough. That was fine. Feyre was probably off somewhere marshaling the newsies that hadn't been arrested, and Rhys would give her time to handle that before checking to make sure she'd gotten some safely.

Gods, he wanted to see her though.

To pass the time instead, Rhys began making his way down to the library to brood. But the sound of Mor calling his name made him freeze. A faint note of panic in her voice nearly had him reaching for his sword.

"Thank the Mother you're still here. I was just at Ressina's," Mor said.

Rhys stilled. "The theater?"

"There was some artwork I bought from her. And you should go there now because I saw—" Mor cut herself off then glanced around, eyes going wide. Rhys understood; privacy wasn't always a given in the House of Wind. Dropping her voice lower, she added, " You know who is there, talking about leaving for the Continent tonight. Go get her."

Rhys didn't need to be told twice. He set off at a sprint toward the balcony, snapped his wings open, and took to the sky. Once he'd climbed above the wards, he winnowed straight to the theater.

Feyre was alone on stage, painting mountains on a backdrop and looking as peaceful as Rhys had ever seen her. The beauty of it stopped him in his tracks halfway down the center aisle. She'd captured the majesty of the craggy peaks in Illyria—but with a hazy, otherworldly quality as if she'd seen them in a dream.

"What do you want, Rhys?" she said without turning around.

"An explanation."

"Of what? Why the strike was a colossal failure?"

"Of why you're planning on running away."

At that, Feyre spun on her heel, holding the paintbrush as if it were a javelin to throw at him. Her blue-grey eyes flashed as Rhys climbed the stairs to the stage and got closer. "Mother's tits, my best friend got dragged to the Prison today . I'm not putting anyone else at risk."

"I didn't take you for a female who backs down from a challenge."

For a moment, Rhys was sure she was about to strike him. And he probably would have deserved it. Feyre just sighed and went back to her painting.

"I tried sending a note to Lucien," she said quietly, "but he was too beat up to even send an answer back. If he doesn't make it…"

Rhys's eyes drifted to a crumpled piece of paper at her feet. "Then what's that?"

"A message from Nesta, saying next time we can count on the south side newsies. Easy for her to say when there won't be a next time."

It had been a while since Rhys had seen anyone with this sort of bitterness in their voice and defeated slump in their shoulders. He recognized it all the same—from his time in war-camps after lost battles. The drinking and partying that the gossip columns loved to write about so much had been his way of getting sights like that out of his head, to chase away thoughts of what might have happened to soldiers captured by Hybern.

He'd never expected Feyre to look broken that way.. But Rhys had commanded a legion; he knew what to do.

"Get your head on straight, Archeron," he said, a note of command creeping into his voice. Feyre stiffened for a moment, but kept painting. He pressed on. "You're winning, and don't be stupid enough to throw it away now. Pulitzer called on my father for support because you had him scared. And after what happened in the square, all of Velaris knows it. So keep moving forward."

For a long moment, Feyre said nothing, just kept adjusting the shading on one of the mountains. Rhys began to wonder if she was determined to ignore him until he left—she was certainly stubborn enough.

"Why do you care? You're a prince. I don't see why this matters so much to you," she said eventually.

Rhys couldn't tell her that the thought of an ocean between them was already ripping his heart in two. But he didn't have to lie, either.

"Because I'm Illyrian. I spent seven years breaking the news to families that they'd lost a loved one because High Fae bastards like my father think of my mother's people as cannon fodder and nothing more. Most of the newsies are lesser fae, and you can't tell me Pulitzer doesn't see you the same way. There are enough camp-lords who hate my father enough that they'll lend their support if you ask for it, and with Nesta on board, that's a powerful coalition."

Again, Feyre said nothing. But he watched as she dipped a new brush into silvery paint and slowly added three stars atop the mountain in the center of the backdrop. That was answer enough.

She turned and studied him, and Rhys had never felt more exposed than he did under the weight of her gaze. Feyre had a way of seeing right to the center of him, and when she'd drawn his portrait, it was as if she'd reproduced it on newsprint for the whole world to see.

"Does that mean you're in this with me? All the way to the end?"

Not for the first time, Rhys wondered if she knew what they were to each other. There were times—like now—that he felt the bond so acutely that every breath seemed to pull on a cord tied to his ribs. If he were a worse male, he would have slid past her shields to see if her question meant what he suspected.

But that wouldn't change his answer. "You have me. Everything I can give, for as long as you need, Feyre."

She set the paintbrush down. "Then let's get back to work."

[chubbycelebs]

The Weight of Fame (part 1)

It was 2016. The biggest band in the world was everywhere, 1 Direction. This was until the boys decided to go on a break, all now pursuing a solo career. But the one the fans were most excited for was the band's pretty boy, Harry Styles.Harry had been dubbed the leader of the band, with his insane vocal range and amazing good looks. The fans were obsessed with him and they couldn't wait to see what he brings when he releases his solo music.

Once the band were on their break, Harry began to realise the amount of pressure that was on him to create music that the fans would love but also what they wouldn't expect. Days began to pass and Harry struggled with even stepping foot in the music room at his house. He had developed such anxiety around starting his own solo music. He decided to call up his manager and explain. Thankfully his manager was very understanding of the amount of pressure he was under and said for Harry to take some time off an enjoy his life now that he was out of the band with no responsibility.

Hearing those words relaxed Harry instantly. After that he would walk around his huge mansion in his underwear, eating ice cream for breakfast, watching hours and hours of TV that he never had the time for before. He loved relaxing so much, he forgot what it was like. The boys in the band were always kept on a tight routine. They always had to be up 6am to work out as if the boys weren't in fit shape at all times for the fans then they would lose that sex appeal when selling songs. After that it would be tour rehearsals or recording studios, followed by performances and shows, it was never ending. They would be lucky to even get 6 hours of sleep a night. So now getting to sleep in till 1pm, eat what he wants and just lay down relaxing, this was all that Harry wanted.

As the weeks went by, Harry had still not been struck with inspiration for any new music. He would be feeling anxious about this but to be honest he was not worried at all. His manager said he could have up to a year off if he felt like it so Harry was in no rush to get off his ass and record. Whilst his lifestyle for the past few weeks hadn't changed, his body sure had. Harry had gone from a 2 hour work out a day to not even stepping foot in a gym once. And to add to it, he hadn't been eating the best either. Filling his days with eating sweet treats and fast food, his body didn't resemble the pop mega star that he was just a few weeks ago.

One morning Harry got out of bed and walked over to the mirror. As he looked at him self he was surprised by the Harry that was looking back at him.

Harry noticed how his tank top clung tightly to his protruding belly. His belly poked out far and his love handles rounded out his silhouette. Harry rubbed his hand over his softer frame, feeling the warm fat that was covering his once rippling abs. Harry had expected to feel disgusted in his self that he had let him self go to become this chubby lazy slob, however he kind of enjoyed the softness of his body. The jiggle that ran through his gut as he walked, the soft warm pillow that was always on him, he even enjoyed how tight his vest top clung to his skin. He grabbed his phone and snapped a photo of his body. He was happy with these changes, they almost resembled how free he was now. Before the regiment of keeping fit felt like he was a prisoner but now with his soft expanded frame, it was like he was breaking free of those expectations.

Now that he had realised the toll his new lifestyle had taken on him, this inspired Harry to carry on relaxing. He has never in his life had this freedom to eat what he wants, do what he likes, not worry about public opinion. He wanted to take advantage of this new found freedom and carry on with this slobbish lifestyle.

As Harry stuffed him self full of greasy foods, he began to wonder how much weight he had gained. He decided to try on a shirt that he loved to wear when he was fit. He wanted to see how he filled it out now with his round soft gut. As he put it on, his arms felt squeezed into the tight arm holes. As he tugged it over his shoulders, he realised just how difficult it would be to button up. He grabbed both sides of his shirt and sucked in and tried to button them up. As he did up the bottom 4 buttons, he couldn't hold hid breath for any longer, releasing his jelly belly.

His gut filled the shirt to its max, pushing threateningly against the buttons and pulling hard at the seams. Harry looked at his body, and couldn't be more excited. Just as he did with his tank top, he loved the feeling of his big body pressed against his tight, too small clothes. He pushed his belly out further and one of the buttons popped off flying across the room. Harry couldn't help but crack a smile. He thought what it might be like to grow too big for his clothes. What if one day he puts on a shirt and his belly is hanging out, or his jeans pop open due to the amount of fat he has added to his frame. This idea got the singer so excited, he needed to know what it was like.

The next week or so were filled with fast food, pints of ice cream, thick cream, soda, and pastries. Harry was determined now to grow out of his clothes. He thought about what his band mates would think of him growing fat like this. Would they be disappointed with him, disgusted with his piggy ways, or would they be proud of him for letting go, finding comfort and relaxing for the first time?

One night after a long day of eating, Harry had become very bloated, his belly hard with how stuffed he was. He decided to try on another shirt he really liked when he was skinny. When he picked up this shirt he looked at it and then down at his bloated gut, he knew there was no chance it would fit. When he was in shape this shirt was always a little tighter especially around his chest but now his gut stuck out way further than his chest did. He took the shirt and squeezed it over his head, he pushed his thickened arms through the tight arm holes and then attempted to pull the shirt down over his big belly.

The shirt couldn't even reach his jeans, a sliver of his hairy gut was exposed and this was when he had stretched it over his belly. His love handles slightly spilled out of the top but it wasn't till he lifted his arms that his whole gut was exposed. The tight shirt rolled up instantly exposing his whole belly, his love handles popping out with a little jiggle. The top resembled more of a crop top now only covering up his soft chest. Harry rubbed his belly and was so pleased with it. This shirt was unwearable now, he had grown too relaxed and soft to even get away with it. He was proud of his growth on his time off but he couldn't help but think, what if he got bigger?

New story detailing Harry Styles break from music and what he discovers about himself. I know this story may seem similar to another story I did but I plan on going into much more detail and exploring a different ending so I hope you enjoy!

[barkingbonzo]

THUNDERBIRDS Christmas

Thunderbirds is a British science fiction television series created by Gerry and Sylvia Anderson, filmed by their production company AP Films (APF) and distributed by ITC Entertainment. It was made between 1964 and 1966 using a form of electronic marionette puppetry (dubbed "Supermarionation") combined with scale model special effects sequences. Two series, totalling thirty-two 50-minute episodes, were filmed; production ended with the completion of the sixth episode of the second series after Lew Grade, the Andersons' financial backer, failed in his bid to sell the programme to American network television.

Set in the 2060s, Thunderbirds is a follow-up to the earlier Supermarionation productions Four Feather Falls, Supercar, Fireball XL5 and Stingray. It follows the exploits of International Rescue, a life-saving organisation equipped with technologically advanced land, sea, air and space rescue craft; these are headed by a fleet of five vehicles named the Thunderbirds and launched from the organisation's secret base of operations in the Pacific Ocean. The main characters are ex-astronaut Jeff Tracy, leader of International Rescue, and his five adult sons, who pilot the Thunderbird machines.

Thunderbirds debuted in September 1965 on the ITV network. The series was exported to around 30 countries during the 1960s. Alongside tie-in merchandise, the series was followed by two feature films– Thunderbirds Are Go and Thunderbird 6. Widely regarded as the Andersons' most popular and commercially successful series, Thunderbirds has been praised for its special effects (directed by Derek Meddings) and musical score (composed by Barry Gray). It is also remembered for its title sequence, which begins with an oft-quoted countdown by Jeff Tracy voice actor Peter Dyneley: "5, 4, 3, 2, 1: Thunderbirds Are Go!" Periodically repeated, it was adapted for radio in the 1990s and has influenced many TV programmes and other media. It was followed by an anime adaptation, a mime theatre show, a live-action film and a computer-animated remake series; additionally, three new episodes, based on tie-in audio plays and made using the same techniques as the original series, were created.

[tyrantisterror]

No Small Feat Artwork Pt 3 - The Heartless Witch Arc

By request, I'm gonna show off some of the artwork for No Small Feat, a Midgaheim story my friends and I told through the TTRPG system Fabula Ultima. I drew a lot of characters and monsters for it, and my friends - in particular, @dragonzzilla, @scatha5, and @dinosaurana - helped line and color them so we'd have cute little sprites to use on our online battlemaps, which really helped sell the whole "we're playing an oldschool turn based RPG" vibe that Fabula Ultima's system is going for.

For this entry, we're going to talk about the characters and monsters I made for the first arc of the campaign.

Fabula Ultima's system has specific rules for Villains, i.e. antagonistic NPCs who are meant to be a significant and, if viable, recurring threat to our heroes. So when structuring this campaign, I designated one Villain per arc, in addition to a couple recurring ones who'd make their presence felt all throughout the story. Our starter villain was Sycoraxine the Heartless Witch. A spellcaster who lived close to the small farm town of Hansand, our heroes learned of Sycoraxine when the locals blamed her for the famine they were suffering. Our heroes of course went to confront her, only to find that she wasn't the source of the famine - though she did have the power to stop it. The hitch, of course, was that she had removed her heart, in both a literal and figurative way, to keep from feeling the pain of being ostracized by her neighbors for so many years. Our heroes recovered her heart and, in a tense and emotional standoff, convinced her to take it back, at which point she saved the town despite their past transgressions, and became beloved for it. A nice fairytale start to things in my opinion.

Finding Sycoraxine's heart was easier said than done, though, as she had her three familiars - i.e. arcane creatures she made a deal with to give her magic powers - hide them for her. Our heroes had to go to Hrumph the Troll, Preyain the griffin, and an incredibly foul-mouthed knucker dragon to find the heart in question, learning more about Sycoraxine's tragic past and connection with the wilderness around Hansand in the process.

There were encounters on the way to those three familiars. The bog home of Harumph was occupied by a Basilisk and a Swamp Kraken, and the beach the Knucker dwelled in had a young Sea Boar in distress as well as some man-eating kelpies. Finally, the mountain where Preeyain dwelled had a feral catoblepas whose oversized head was stuck in a ditch, as well as a VERY ornery phenex at the end of its lifespan who didn't want people messing with its nest.

And that was the first arc - a bit basic, but we were all learning the system and I wanted to give my players and myself the opportunity to experiment and figure it out. It also ended with the reveal of the campaign's big plot hook - Sycoraxine had in her possesion one of seven crown jewels, having found it on the body of a soldier who came to her for help when she was heartless and received none.

See, in Midgaheim, kings aren't just political leaders - they are magically bound to the kingdom they rule, and its health depends on them. Seven years before the start of the campaign, the king of Engelsex was killed in a failed coup, and the crown destroyed in the process. It can only be remade if the jewels are recovered, and in the meantime the kingdom will spiral into chaos as all the magic that would be flowing in the king is now going willy nilly and uncontrolled in all directions, like a river that burst through a damn. Only by reuniting all seven and crowning a new king could our heroes save the kingdom of Engelsex from falling into chaos and ruin, and so they set out with a new mission: find all seven crown jewels and, hopefully, a person who'd be worthy of the crown.