#Thorn Enterprises

[thorn-enterprises]

Celebrating Thanksgiving with Bluegrass Harmony

Thanksgiving is a time for gratitude, family, and reflection, and what better way to enhance this festive spirit than with the warm sounds of bluegrass music? Rooted in American history, bluegrass embodies the essence of community and storytelling, making it the perfect soundtrack for this holiday.

Imagine gathering around the dinner table, the aroma of roasted turkey and pumpkin pie wafting in the air, as the lively strumming of banjos and the sweet tones of a fiddle fill the room. Bluegrass, with its rich harmonies and upbeat rhythms, invites everyone to share their stories and express their thanks. It’s a genre that celebrates life’s simple joys, much like the Thanksgiving tradition itself.

Whether it’s classic songs like “Molly and Tenbrooks” or modern renditions from artists like The Infamous Stringdusters, bluegrass can elevate your Thanksgiving gathering. So, this year, as you carve the turkey and raise a glass, let the vibrant notes of bluegrass music carry your hearts and minds to a place of gratitude and connection.

Happy Thanksgiving! Let the music play and the memories unfold.

[luff2]

THEM THEM THEM!!! (btw I’m gonna start doing more non-tkl art) BUT DW ILL STILL BE POSTING SFW T-COMMUNITY STUFF!!

ALSO IN MY HC THEY ARE WEARING SWEATERS :33

[endgameendedthegame]

ISO Tim Drake fic where he does not join the bat family. Instead, he is Bruce Wayne's personal assistant. Cue a lot of Tim being so done, copious amounts of coffee, and plausible deniability of identities.

[freakartack]

"...Hello? Ma! I told you not to call me today, I'm making a movie!" -Wario, Mario Power Tennis

The most important lesson from Ma that Wario took to heart was the endless pursuit of cold, hard cash. Unfortunately, the one lesson she could never teach him was the importance of hard work to get it.  It wasn't for lack of trying; Wario's Ma is the hardest worker this side of the Mushroom Kingdom.  Raising Baby Wario was a herculean enough task on its own, but ever the enterprising spirit, she had also set out to grow one of the most profitable crops: garlic.

Her backyard business quickly expanded into a veritable garlic empire. Wario's mother toiled away tirelessly each day from sunrise to sunset to grow and harvest as much garlic as she could possibly achieve.  Much of Wario's current strength and endurance can be attributed to helping his mom on the farm as a child, although the teeth-pulling task of getting him to actually work was almost as difficult as preventing him from eating all the garlic straight out of the ground.  Wario's nose for instant gratification has always been a thorn in his mother's side, but try as she might to instill a solid work ethic into the boy, her "get-rich-slow" schemes could never appeal to him.  Still, Wario enjoyed his surprisingly agrarian upbringing. Along with garlic, his mother also raised chickens for eggs, inspiring in Wario a lifelong soft spot for poultry.  (He also had a pet hamster named Fluffy, who sadly passed away in 1986.)

Today, Wario is still on good terms with his mother despite their physical distance, and frequent phone calls keep her updated on all of Wario's business successes.  Of course, being Wario, he heavily embellishes the amount of work he actually does at his company.  If she only knew...

[evilminji]

Here I sit, considering Blood Blossoms.

It can be safely assumed, that the species originally developed their Anti-ghost properties to drive HUMANS and other things with, well, SOULS? Away? But as some enterprising human likely did, was selectively bred for purely Anti-ghost properties.

As with most things in nature, we can only assume it was originally to allow for unfettered spread of its seeds. Likely even had an effect on other PLANTS, allowing it more soil in which to grow. A "Blight Blossom" if you will. Or "Life's Bane".

But! That is not what I wonder about.

I wonder about the OTHER end of the evolutionary niche. Like plants with berries, meant to entice birds and other animals into carrying their seeds to new and fertile grounds.

Are there Ghost ATTRACTING plants?

And I don't not mean, drugs, though that certainly WOULD be one means of attracting potentially symbiotic relationships. I mean plants that smell unusually good. TASTE good. Have developed around high ectoplasmic areas.

Do they only exsist in the Realms? Or are such plants possible to find in the living Realm?

If I found them, dug them up carefully, and transferred them to a brand new home, freshly built on untouched land... would it be haunted in short order? Or would the plants die, because the environment could no longer support them?

The most LIKELY contender to exsist? Would be some sort of extoplasmic berry. An EXTREMELY hardy and slow growing vine, that likely grows in places of high extoplasm. Such as old war zones, grave yards, old hospitals, and cities with particularly high death counts. Or Amity. Really, anywhere it can find a LOT of Ectoplasm.

I imagine the berries would literally glow. Like neon battery acid. Reminiscent of blackberry bushs with long creeping vines and hooking thorns. Darker, red black leaves.

DEEPLY lethal if the living ingested. The comparison to battery acid being not made lightly.

The berries, I imagine, would basicly be sugar water and ectoplasm. Sweet ecto. The plant "realizing" that ghosts need ectoplasm. If it HAS ectoplasm, they will come get it. And if the form the ectoplasm is pleasing? They will cultivate the plant to get more.

Because that's what it does. It passively gathers ectoplasm from the air, water, and soil.

Into a nice, neat, EDIBLE little treat.

After all, it's not like there's a hole to the Zone just lying around! Do you know how hard it is to luck out and find a natural portal? How are we to feed ourselves? Sit here and suck air?

Yes, the portal makes the plant effectively redundant. But! Much like pigeons? It doesn't stop EXISTING just because ghosts aren't using it now. Just going unharvested.

Which? Is probably why there are so many new ghost animals. They ARE berries after all. Danny should probably talk to people about that. It's irresponsible to just up an leave lethal fruit where humans might find it.

@hdgnj @nerdpoe @ailithnight @the-witchhunter

[gayelderstourney]

OLD MAN YAOI BRACKET ROUND 2

Propaganda:

Sheo/The Nailsmith:

It's really nice because you unlock it after the nailsmith asks you to kill him with the pure nail and you refuse and walk away. He then says he was wandering hallownest without purpose until he found sheo who helped him discover that there was more to life than just one calling. These two are probably the only characters in the game to have a genuinely happy ending

The nailsmith loses his purpose in life after finishing his ultimate masterpiece, his lifelong goal, the pure nail. He requests the protagonist to try the nail on him, but If you refuse, he will find sheo who helps him to find new meaning in life and realise that there is more to life by teaching him different crafts. They can then be seen sculping figurines together, and sheo is also painting the nailsmith.They share a common love for art and crafts and inspire each other. Sheo's story is that he was a nailmaster, but got tired of it, and put down his nail to pick up a paintbrush. I think it's beautiful that he could help the nailsmith realise what he himself did. They both also used to live in solitude without even realising how lonely they were, and I think it's cute tuhat they can do art together now :]

They are two bugs retired from their career and making better lives for themselves and they’re gay about it. Nailsmith believes at first that he has nothing left after creating the perfect nail and asks the knight to strike him down, and if you don’t, he meets Sheo, a retired nailmaster finding a new calling in painting and sculpting. They find a shared love in creating things and Nailsmith finds a new calling in art as well. The achievement you get for uniting them is called “Happy Couple”

Gay bugs gay bugs gay bugs (Cw mention of suicide) They both used to pursue their one passion in life: forging the perfect nail (sword) for the Nailsmith and the art of combat for Sheo. Sheo realized he could just leave that life when he lost his passion for fighting, and he found himself a new purpose in life: art. However, he always seemed very lonely, completely isolated by all other bugs in his hidden house in the middle of a thorn jungle. When The Nailsmith achieved his goal and forged the perfect nail, he lost his purpose in life and his will to live. He asks the player to kill him. However, if the player refuses, he can later be found in Sheo's house, modelling for Sheo or sculpting figurines with him. He thanks the player for not fulfilling his request, because he has found a new calling in life here, making art together with Sheo. They both express how happy they are to no longer be alone. This also gives you the "Happy Couple" achievement, confirming that they are a couple.

THEY'RE CANON!!! They're fucking canon!!! You can talk to them at one point after doing a Bunch of Stuff to get them to meet each other and you get an achievement called "Happy Couple"!!! Gotta love old man yuri

Jean-Luc Picard/Q:

theyre kind of the ogs. q fucked that old man for SURE. if they arent old enough for you in the next generation (1987-1984) they probably will be in picard (2020-2023). also when i went looking for the pic i included i googled “star trek picard q in bed” and there were actually multiple different instances of that happening that popped up

um it’s unclear what age Q is supposed to be in TNG but in Picard they’re both undeniably old as balls. Q has godlike powers that he just uses to hang out with this bald old man in increasingly strange and annoying ways. And call him “mon capitane” like a freak and materialize next to him in bed and say Good Morning Darling and lounge all over the Enterprise like a fruit anyways I think they’re abnormal and I like them

what if you were an all powerful nearly omnipotent being who has been worshipped as a god on planets across the farthest reaches of space and the first guy to just not give a shit about you makes you fall madly in love with him

I can’t get my thoughts clear right now but they mean so much to me. They’re meant to be with each other ok. the sequel to spirk. they would be canon if paramount werent COWARDS

if I were an entity as old as the universe itself and I kept visiting some old guy on a spaceship trying to justify the existence of humanity it would 100% be for gay reasons and Q understands this concept on an intimate level actually

[louebel]

— [ 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐒. ]

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: trafalgar law × gn!reader 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 1,655 wc. mentions of the law novel and spoilers for his backstory, descriptions of his trauma, panic attacks, angst, hurt with comfort, law slowly tries to embrace his past, rushed + not proofread. divider by @ benkeibear. 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: law has a nightmare. he appreciates your comfort.

“Hnn..!”

It was one of those nights again.

Sweat tumbled down his temple. No source of light. The polar tang was deep in the abyss. Your soft snores. The blanket hooding you both.

His hands were shaky. His chest was pounding. His lips agape.

“U—uh…”

Just a dream. Just a dream. No.

Not a dream. Reality. The past. Their corpses. The ruins of his city. Bestowed upon him, the laments and dirges of Flevance. They chanted and howled, damned souls who shrieked and condemned the morose government, a newborn Canto VI; Dante’s most passionate inspiration. Mystical, a fantasy, but no dream it was. No, it was not.

If only it could be.

The repugnant fetor of sulfur and acrid smog, ingrained in his nostrils, the buzzing of the flies as he walked among the stench of methane. It was a remote remembrance, clear as a fragile vase of glass, one that would shatter over and over and make his sluggish heart weep, no matter how many times he fixed and carried it. A life torn piece by piece by what was, and is, the ruthless world.

Gone were the days he could live free from his mind, the faces of those he yearned to meet once more, nothing but an ignis fatuus, one that served heartache and warmth in unison. Acerbic, pungent, more than any fruit, acidic upon his tender skin, spilled upon his skull and dissolved it without an ounce of control.

His favorite comics brought dolor. What was formerly one of his dearest pages developed into the fuel of his insecurities, thoughts.

“Look, brother! Sora didn’t die! I told you he wouldn’t!”

His sister’s giggles, nebulous; muffled, lost in time.

“Is it clear, Law? If you’re uncertain, tell me, alright? I’ll explain it to you as many times as you need.”

His father’s lessons but a distant reminiscence.

“Like this, sweetie. You’re a fast learner! Look at you, my smart baby. Mommy’s always here.”

His mother’s delicate hands guiding him, now a phantom.

His childhood companions’ cheering whenever he scored the max on a test, quieter than the gale. The nun’s concerned gaze when he carried Lami and asked to bring her home when she got wounded, forever gone. Corazon’s clumsy scenes he wanted to see again. His smile.

“I love you, Law!”

All their unconditional love.

Love. Love.

He shut his eyes.

How much he craved it. Tore apart in a single night, shredded in another after so thoroughly rebuilding it. And now here he was, trying again. But oh, was it difficult. His breathing often faltered, one false move able to destabilize him. Reconstructing it with paper was an enterprise. A fragment given by each of the people he met — little ones by the citizens in Swallow Island, bigger ones by Wolf, Bepo, Penguin, Shachi, his crew, and what survived of his fractured history was utilized as a base. Yours was almost a blanket. It was a prodigious sheet.

They all supported themselves simultaneously. But it wobbled. A lot. Often he couldn’t manage it. Terrified, alone, as he watched all his efforts about to topple. But it never did.

“… Law?”

Oh no. He woke you up.

“Go to sleep.” It came almost like a snap — to not show he was suffering.

Just go to sleep. Don’t bother with him. Don’t.

“Well… now I won’t do that.” you groggily said, his fingers clenching as you propped yourself up with an elbow. “Nightmare?”

You couldn’t see him in the darkness, but he was still an open book. He couldn’t lie to you, nor did he want to. He tried his best to change his mannerisms and patterns.

You’re his partner. Not a stranger.

“Yeah.” he exhaled tremulously, thorns in his throat.

He heard the rustles, the heat of your frame radiating against his. He couldn’t see you, but he imagined you — feeling your massages and head upon his shoulder. It tickled his neck a little.

“Mh. Baby … it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Obscurity and death clutched him with crisp, meager bones and itching shadows. However, a minor light banished them all; tender, so generous. That sound, yours… Fleeting fingers and honeyed pampering.

His droopy and heavy eyelids fluttered open, those golden eyes that carried unspoken anguish all but courageous; what was a mask he got used to wearing now sunk in the void, crystal tears brimming and gushing down his visage, scrunched up and full of lineaments. Quakes wracked his body, hisses leaving his quivering lips.

“I—I…” Nothing came out. Yet your arms remained still around him.

“Sh … Slowly honey. Take your time. I’m here.”

Here. With him.

“I… I’m so sorry. So sorry. Please forgive me. Please.”

Oh, that poor, poor man … What did he do to deserve this? To experience a catastrophe?

“M—Mom… Dad…”

“Law, hey—”

“La—Lami, Cora… Cora-san..!” He couldn't stop. As one sob wrenched from his lungs, another came, and another, and another, and another. His spine twisted, facing down; curling against you, your lips on his brow.

"Law." You called him gingerly, smoothly, hugging him close. Don't let me go, was all he thought.

"It's not your fault. Never. It's okay. Shh… Honey, hey… It's okay baby, it's okay. You're okay. Shh… Look at me."

And he did. Your palms seemed so much more real. An opportunity, some place to run. A light.

"There we go. Good job sweetie. It's okay. You're okay. It's not your fault."

"… N—not …"

"Not your fault. Never your fault, sweetheart. Everything is okay."

"… Mh. Mmhm."

He responded, unable to form coherent sentences, and cradled you close like a lifeline — the only anchor in this storm. You held him just as tightly, grazing his tense, knotted back. He was shuddering so much.

"Good job. That's my Law. Shh…"

It hurt. It truly did. To catch him like this, to see him so bare. No child, person, should ever go through such horrible things — you remembered how you both cried when he opened up. That confidence he wore for all of his crew finally crumbling at the ounce of vulnerability the universe granted him.

Shachi and Penguin never mentioned it. They divulged tales about Swallow Island — but they kept quiet about Law's other past, respecting his privacy. Bepo was a bit more clumsy with his sayings, information slipping from his fangs before he could stop it. (He'd quickly cover his mouth, a little squeak escaping it.)

When Law revealed everything, it was chaotic. You both had an argument some hours before. You were shocked he didn't crumple in your arms.

Seldom you’ve seen him cry.

"They—they would've liked you," he mumbled between hiccups, the tinge of nostalgia palpable.

"Law…"

"I wish you could've met them. I- I really wish they were here." They’d be proud, wouldn’t they? He could’ve worked with his father. His mother. Lami would’ve been a wonderful nurse or a doctor. Corazon would have joined him.

In another life, perhaps. Now the Rose held them.

"I wish I could've met them, too. I know you miss them… But they're—" his skin molded under your pointing finger as you pressed right on his sweet, scarred heart, "—right here. Forever. They're proud of you. I know they are."

"… I … hope so." he believed so, too — but saying it felt too egoistic of him. If you knew, you’d knock his head. He could tell.

"No no, baby. They are. I'm proud of you, too. So proud. Okay?"

He breathed deeply, nodding slowly.

"Okay. Okay."

“Good. You’re getting better,” you assured him, and those words never felt more gratifying. He had to be kind to himself. Gentle. The mind is fragile. He hopes — no, he knows you’d forgive him for being harsh on himself before. He knows. He knows.

“I try. I do. It's so hard, though,” he sniffed, resting his forehead on yours, to feel your warmth, your breath, your vitality, his "Beatrice", “they went too soon, sometimes I wish I could’ve followed them.” he admits, and your eyes grow more compassionate.

“But … my friends. My crew. The people I’ve met. What my family would want, Corazon’s wish. You. I’m glad to be here,” he says, taking deep breaths between. He’s safe in your arms. He can go at his own pace.

“Are you glad to be alive?” Some might see your question as idiotic, but Law knows the difference.

“That … I cannot tell. Sometimes I still feel like I don’t deserve it.”

“Mh.”

It was rather quiet after that. Only your breathing and his. The stirring of your pajamas. The hushed buzzing of the submarine.

It was welcome, though.

“Change is complex,” he then spoke, looking at you with a glimpse of hope. “but … I’m willing to try. I have to. For the crew, for you, for—for me.”

Tranquility took him when you smiled, something unlocking in his spirit. It wasn’t onerous anymore.

“Good. Especially for you, honey. We appreciate you being so tough, truly, but…” you brushed your lips on his jaw and peppered soft, tiny kisses. “There's nothing wrong with being weak. We all are. If you fight it, it hurts. It’s just us. Our feeble little selves. Give yourself a break from time to time. You are doing well.”

Law deeply appreciated your snogs, his frantic heartbeat calming. You led him down onto the mattress again, covering both your forms with the blanket.

“Let go, honey. Cry. And don’t hold back. You’re safe now.”

Tender murmurs filled the night. Law's head rested in the crook of your neck. His frightened mourns eased, his restless limbs no longer a problem — caresses and soothing, calm words eased the poor child, who wanted nothing but to live in peace.

And so he reached Eden, your pious hand accompanying him to Paradiso.

[kuromori4]

Gabriel Agreste's despicable request

I started this rant after watching the London special and I figured I should finally finish it and post it.

"Make sure Adrien never knows the villain that I was, and instead try and remember the times I tried to be a good father."

Who the hell does he think he is to make such a request?? He's relying on Marinette's desire to protect the boy she loves. He KNOWS that she'll do as he asks for Adrien. He's counting on it. And that's AWFUL. He has to know exactly what he's putting on her shoulders. He knows that she knows what an awful father he's been to Adrien. This isn't a heartfelt request to protect his son. This is a CURSE ON HIS ENEMY. A way to ensure that Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Ladybug, the major thorn in his side since day one, continues to suffer long after he's gone. Ladybug foiled all of his plans from the start, Marinette dared to win the heart of his son, whom he had promised to someone else without his knowledge. She was his downfall, and surely, in his mind, the (albeit indirect) cause of his impending doom.

If he really cared about Adrien, if Adrien's well-being was his real goal and final wish, then he should have given in. He should have decided, "You're right Ladybug, I fucked up. let's try and fix this, for Adrien." But NO. He chose to attack her, even after she gave him a chance to make things right. He wasn't willing to let things end on someone else's terms. If he was going to go out, he was going to do it HIS WAY. And he was going to make sure that his memory would never die, one way or another. So instead of doing the right thing and finding a way out of it that was less harmful to his child, whom he was about to leave an orphan, he steals the Miraculous and makes damn sure that his death will go down in history.

I don't give a shit if he changed the initial intention of his wish. He still wasn't sacrificing himself for some greater good. That's just how he wanted Marinette to perceive it, because she is good, and a child, and therefor easy to emotionally manipulate. He knowingly put both Adrien and Marinette into a position where a future of hurt and pain was inevitable. Everything Gabriel does is self-serving, right to the very end. His final act of villainy ensured that he could maintain control over his son's life even after his death, and keep his enemies suffering long after he's gone. And what's worse, he used the girl his son loves to enforce it. Which is the ultimate fuck you to Mari/bug if you ask me; forcing her to become the new keeper of his son's ignorance, maintaining that Adrien stays in the dark and never learns the truth about anything.

You could argue that he gave his life for Nathalie and that's somehow redeeming, but I argue that it was just another way for him to guarantee that his affairs were taken care of after his demise. Sure he does seem to care about Nathalie in some manner, maybe there's even some love there. (But as we well know, Gabriel's twisted 'love' seems to come at a price.) I'm sure Nathalie knows how to run his company in his stead, to make sure his assets stay in tact, and to a certain degree, maybe even thinks that Nathalie might carry on his mission, or at the very least protect his secrets. Even if she had a change of heart in the end and tried to stop him, she has been complicit all these years and knows most of, if not all of, his secrets and goals. She also has a position of authority over Adrien. She knows that he's a Sentibeing and where his Amok is, and has used it on him before. I truly think that Gabriel believed that Nathalie would help wrap everything up with a nice bow for him. Who else could he trust to handle his final affairs? Certainly not Tsurugi.

If Gabriel had turned himself in to Ladybug, he would have died alone, pretty much then and there. Without his wife. (Emilie's status of dead or nearly dead being unknown to us) Nathalie would have died, His company would fail, his contracts with Tsurugi enterprises would allow Tomoe to pick the Gabriel company apart like a vulture, and his empire would shrivel up. His son would know who and what he was, and would hate him. The plans he put in place for Adrien's future would fall apart, allowing for Adrien to grow and be who he wants without his father's influence. Maybe he'd be remembered for his villainy, but his accomplishments in life as Gabriel would be forgotten, lost, even resented. And what's worse, he would have lost everything to a couple of children. His son's girlfriend and her pet cat would be his downfall, his undoing. The great Gabriel Agreste, Monarch, bested by a young girl. Gabriel's blatant pretension would never stand for it.

His wish ensured that he got to be together with his wife in the end, Which was always his goal. It ensured that Mari/bug (And by extension, Chat Noir) would continue to suffer for daring to oppose him. He got his way. He won. IDGAF if he died. HE WON. He destroyed so many lives. He doesn't deserve the little comments in the special talking about "Rekindling what was still good in Gabriel Agreste" or "What finally made him a good father to Adrien." HE KNEW WHAT HE WAS ASKING OF HER. He knew what it would mean for her, and his son! The power he holds over Marinette and Adrien from beyond the grave guarantees that even with a new Butterfly holder, that he will ALWAYS be the formidable villain who defeated them. He will ALWAYS loom over their heads, wrap his fingers around their throats. He got to defeat his enemy AND look like the hero. He gets to have his cake and eat it too. He gave both of his identities a fucking LEGACY.

[spacejellycreates]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns

You are a botanist on the USS Enterprise. On an away mission, you accidentally touch a poisonous plant and get very sick. Bones has to take care of you and find the cure.

Requested by @buglvr24 !!! I love you lozzer this was such a great idea

Tag list (Let me know if you would like to be added or removed!):

@fraudfrogz @wiggles-mcgee @nothoughtsgayboy @dobry-slimak

@emilytheghostwitch @shortergaything @bhawk-goose @thegeniusidiotnstickmerchant3728

@100percentevil @i-am-just-a-skeleton

[treesspeaklatin]

Directory

My fics

Xedgin

Finding; a not so human Xenk discovering human feelings

Half-vampire!Edgin series; enemies to it's complicated

Romance in the time of LoveChat; romance writer!Ed and online dating AU

Xedgin in 100 words; drabble colletion

Edgin Darvis' last heist; breaking up and making up

AOS Spirk

5 wrong kisses (+1 right kiss); aliens made them kiss

It's the most wonderful time of the year; winter holidays and family drama

An elegant solution series; Vulcan Reform arranged marriage

Ri va'ne; cadet!Kirk and Vulcan strip clubs

5 people confused by the relationship between Kirk and Spock (+1 person who understood it); queerplatonic/ambiguous slash

Crawl home to him; not really character death (?), mutual pining

TOS Spirk

A heart even more your own; Persuasion AU

How to find the perfetc partner for your Vulcan, a compendium by James T. Kirk; old (almost) married spirk

Mirror Spirk

A Thorn in his side; Kirk "haaaates" Spock

5 bad days aboard the ISS Enterprise; denial of feelings and humor

Other Trek

Trektober 2023; oneshot collection; AOS-TOS-mirror spirk, spones, mckirk, mcspirk & others

No masters or kings (when the ritual begins); mcspirk aliens made them do it, pining

Fic recs

Spirk 1, 2

Mcspirk 1

[prokopetz]

Thank you for the explanation! ❤️ now I’m intrigued, though: Where can I find information on why 4E was published under a more restrictive license?

(With reference to this post here.)

Before we can talk about that, it's necessary to understand what an incredible shitshow 4E's commercial launch was in general. I go over that in some depth here.

Understanding the sequence of events outlined there is important because it dispels one of the most widely accepted wrong answers to your question: that Hasbro and WotC cooked up the 4E Game System License (GSL) because they didn't want a repeat of Pathfinder.

In truth, the 4E GSL is what caused Pathfinder; Paizo was one of a handful of third-party publishers who'd taken advantage of the D&D System Trademark License (STL) to produce officially branded D&D products, and they'd likely have been perfectly happy to continue doing so if WotC hadn't come to them and said "hey, if you want to remain STL-compliant, you need to throw away all of your 3E material and re-develop it for 4E, under a more restrictive license, with zero notice – that's cool, right?"

(It was not, in fact, cool.)

As for why the 4E GSL really happened, there are a variety of opinions on that – a lot of it ultimately comes down to internal office politics, so there may never be a clear answer. As far as I've been able to gather, however, the problem is that the OGL had always served two masters. By all accounts, several of the OGL's principal architects genuinely believed in establishing a creative commons for D&D – but that's not how they sold the idea to the suits at the head office.

Internally, the pitch in favour of the OGL was that it would allow WotC to delegate the creation of D&D supplements and adventures to third parties, allowing WotC itself to focus on core book sales. (i.e., the PHB/DMG/MM trio and the main setting hardbacks.) Core books were always the more lucrative side of the coin, with supplements and adventures serving less as a profit-making enterprise in themselves, and more as long-tail support to drive further core book sales. The prospect of being able to get that long-tail support for free was very tempting, and is likely the main reason that corporate agreed to publish the Third Edition under the OGL in the first place.

The OGL accomplished that, to a degree, but it also resulted in a lot of publishers lifting D&D's rules text wholesale – remember, the OGL allows verbatim copying-and-pasting of rules text, which was its main draw from the perspective of third-party publishers – and stuffing it into their own standalone games. This sort of thing was fairly small-time prior to the Pathfinder debacle, but there was enough of it going on for WotC's new owner, Hasbro, to see it as a thorn in their side.

TL;DR version: in all likelihood, 4E's GSL was an effort by Hasbro to rein in the OGL and return it to the purpose for which it had initially been sold to WotC corporate: an instrument for outsourcing D&D's long-tail support to unpaid third parties while reaping the benefits of that support in core book sales.

(Of course, as outlined in the linked post, what was actually accomplished was to shrink D&D's third-party support practically to nothing while simultaneously creating its own largest competitor; it's a fair question how much of this was due to the GSL itself, and how much of it was due to all the other corporate incompetence and general fuckery attendant to 4E's rollout, but either way, the result was WotC and Hasbro pulling the plug on 4E early, and reverting to the OGL for 5E. It was a learning experience all around – though the present business with the OGL 1.1 leads one to suspect that they didn't learn the right lessons!)

[sapphicreadsdb]

Hi do you by chance have any sapphic fantasy recs? preferably adult fantasy but YA is fine too

sure! tho this could will get quite long... no links, sorry!, bc it was kicking up a fuss with those for some reason

+ = ya

pennyblade by j.l. worrad

lady hotspur by tessa gratton

sofi and the bone song by adrienne tooley (+)

she who became the sun by shelley parker chan

the scapegracers by h.a. clarke (+)

the third daughter by adrienne tooley (+)

the daughters of izdihar by hadeer elsbai

the malevolent seven by sebastien de castell

blackheart knights by laure eve

the warden by daniel m. ford

the unbroken by c.l. clark

dark earth by rebecca stott

witch king by martha wells

scorpica by g.r. macallister

the mirror empire by kameron hurley

now she is witch by kirsty logan

silverglass by j.f. rivkin

the woman who loved the moon and other stories by elizabeth a. lynn

...(this answer is how i discover there's a character limit per block so. doing this in chunks.)

fire logic by laurie j. marks

a restless truth by freya marske

when angels left the old country by sacha lamb (+)

the traitor baru cormorant by seth dickinson

an archive of brightness by kelsey socha

the bladed faith by david dalglish

the winged histories by sofia samatar

dragonoak by sam farren

the forever sea by joshua phillip johnson

into the broken lands by tanya huff

the jasmine throne by tasha suri

daughter of redwinter by ed mcdonald

the last magician by lisa maxwell (+)

the fire opal mechanism by fran wilde

...

the black coast by mike brooks

high times in the low parliament by kelly robson

foundryside by robert jackson bennett

the enterprise of death by jesse bullington

mamo by sas milledge (+)

from dust, a flame by rebecca podos (+)

uncommon charm by emily bergslien & kat weaver

wild and wicked things by francesca may

the unspoken name by a.k. larkwood

brother red by adrian selby

the final strife by saara el-arifi

way of the argosi by sebastien de castell (+)

the bone shard daughter by andrea stewart

ghost wood song by erica waters (+)

into the crooked place by alexandra christo (+)

ashes of the sun by django wexler

the midnight girls by alicia jasinska (+)

the midnight lie by marie rutkoski (+)

the never tilting world by rin chupeco (+)

water horse by melissa scott

...

a master of djinn by p. djeli clark

the good luck girls by charlotte nicole davis (+)

among thieves by m.j. kuhn

black water sister by zen cho

the velocity of revolution by marshall ryan maresca

sweet & bitter magic by adrienne tooley (+)

the dark tide by alicia jasinska (+)

the library of the unwritten by a.j. hackwith

a dark and hollow star by ashley shuttleworth (+)

the chosen and the beautiful by nghi vo

the councillor by e.j. beaton

these feathered flames by alexandra overy (+)

the factory witches of lowell by c.s. malerich

fireheart tiger by aliette de bodard

...

city of lies by sam hawke

bestiary by k-ming chang

the raven and the reindeer by t. kingfisher

the winter duke by claire eliza bartlett (+)

master of poisons by andrea hairston

the empress of salt and fortune by nghi vo

night flowers shirking from the light of the sun by li xing

down comes the night by allison saft (+)

wench by maxine kaplan (+)

girls made of snow and glass by melissa bashardoust (+)

girls of paper and fire by natasha ngan (+)

the impossible contract by k.a. doore

burning roses by s.l. huang

the house of shattered wings by aliette de bodard

not for use in navigation by iona datt sharma

weak heart by ban gilmartin

girl, serpent, thorn by melissa bashardoust (+)

the devil's blade by mark alder

...

we set the dark on fire by tehlor kay mejia (+)

the true queen by zen cho

moontangled by stephanie burgis

a portable shelter by kirsty logan

sing the four quarters by tanya huff

all the bad apples by moira fowley doyle (+)

the drowning eyes by emily foster

the priory of the orange tree by samantha shannon

miranda in milan by katharine duckett

the afterward by e.k. johnston (+)

thorn by anna burke

penhallow amid passing things by iona datt sharma

in the vanishers' palace by aliette de bodard

summer of salt by katrina leno (+)

the gracekeepers by kirsty logan

out of the blue by sophie cameron (+)

black wolves by kate elliott

the circle by sara b. elfgren & mats strandberg (+)

unspoken by sarah rees brennan (+)

thistlefoot by gennarose nethercott

passing strange by ellen klages

(and breathe)

[divinekangaroo]

Season 1 Episode 1: Freddie Thorne's bedside table.

Half smoked, hand-rolled cigarettes? Unlikely to be pot in the 1920s (but allow me my interpretative indulgence in modern AUs), hand-rolled cigarettes were working class, being cheaper than packet ciagrettes, plus you could stretch the tobacco pouch/tin out further by making the ciagrettes really thin. Hand-rolling was also linked to countercultures and bohemian/artist lifestyles in the way pot is/was.

Freddie starts to smoke them then puts them out long before the heat hits his fingertips. And the cigarette he lights up after he and Ada finish having sex - first for Ada and then for him - are factory produced ones, so either someone else has been smoking the rollies in his bed, or let's assume Freddie instead takes Ada's higher quality cigarettes (which are smuggled by the Shelby enterprise) every chance he gets.

War and Revolution by Leon Trotsky, written (best I can find) in 1922 - so at least one year asychronous with PB's S1 blurred start date. If we assume Freddie and Tommy were both following Trotsky's writings closely pre war, in the lead up to the war, and during the war, it starts to get sharply pronounced how Freddie and Tommy were likely to diverge. I've assumed Freddie was without a support structure or much family (only the mother mention) because of how much worse off than the Shelbys he was shown. Tommy acts to protect, but Freddie *had* nothing to protect. During the war, Tommy loses all faith in any ideals, Communism or Catholicism; Freddie leans much harder into those ideals which speak to who he is. Trotsky's writings around the start of the war also give some suggestion as to one of the many influences around that might have increased their desire to sign up so early: reading the Trotsky works, I can well imagine a more idealistic Tommy (which, if I have the timing right, Greta dies, Tommy 'heads out' in some kind of grief to get away, he has his liaison with Zelda who conceives Duke, and almost immediately after, Tommy then conscripts) and a fervent Freddie being the drivers for the first tranche of Birmingham boys who signed up. (Tommy also calls Danny 'comrade'.) Here's a summary of Trotsky's WWI writings.

You know what Tommy's like. Yeah, Freddie says, I know what Tommy's like. Likes to take his fight out onto the (?mat?), doesn't like to stand and wait.

One day me and Tommy will be on the same side again. Which Freddie says in direct response to Ada saying sometimes it's like you're with me just to show you can. (Fascinating non-sequiter Freddie.) I do like to imagine that both conscripted for the same reasons, and then neither of them realised the other was drifting hard in the other direction during the war, Freddie to that radicalisation and Tommy to disillusionment; that the realisation and fragmentation of their friendship only occurred at some point after the return to England.

The scene then cuts immediately to Tommy and his opium pipe, and his dream of him, Danny and Freddie in the tunnel. Tommy wakes in terror, and immediately looks out his bedroom window at the police walking by. There's a certain density of Tommy's anxiety: he hates waiting, Freddie says. They had to wait in the Tunnel. The Tunnel dreams are all about the terror of the waiting. And in S1, Tommy is waiting, sitting on the guns. The overwhelming weight of Tommy's anxiety, he who hates waiting and if the fight has to happen wants to bring the fight, is quite sharply contrasted with Freddie's near uncaring and almost looking for a fight.

And then the scene cuts to Danny breaking down even more obviously, fighting as a trauma reaction, without knowing who he's fighting or why, only in fear.

-

The other thing that always interested me was Tommy sending Danny home to his wife after Danny's first on-screen breakdown. This burden that the wives carry after the war; I remember that comment stood out even when I was doing my half-arsed first watch, oh, of course, expect the wife to carry it all. This sense of what the wives carry through all of the seasons, right to S6 and what is asked of Linda (who takes money for it) and Lizzie (who finally leaves).

.

Obligatory height/size difference shot. The water where Tommy contrives Danny's execution and resurrection, and by all implication, somehow set aside Danny's PTSD with that act as Danny resumed a new life in London without the episodes he was having in Birmingham. The all-healing gunshot to the head.

[wonderlanddreamer]

Chapter 6: John becomes increasingly frustrated as he seeks answers from Tommy or Florence after their confrontation. Meanwhile, Florence deliberately sets aside her thoughts of John Shelby, focusing instead on drafting her next article.

Masterlist here.

John Shelby sat hunched over the bar in the Garrison, the glass of whiskey in his hand reflecting the dim light like a dark, liquid mirror of his tangled thoughts. He was trying to drown them out, one drink at a time, but they clung to him, as persistent as the smoky air that filled the room. Florence Fletcher had become an enigma he couldn't shake off, a puzzle he was compelled to solve but never could.

He was a Shelby, a man built for battle, for navigating the murky depths of their family's criminal enterprise. Yet here he was, caught off guard by a woman who had turned his world askew. Florence, with her relentless pursuit of the truth and her unyielding spirit, had somehow breached the fortress of his guarded heart. It made no sense. He didn't want to care. He shouldn't care. But he did, and the realisation gnawed at him like a disease.

Each time he closed his eyes, he saw her face—defiant, unafraid, even when the odds were stacked against her. It was maddening how she managed to occupy his thoughts, to stir emotions he'd long thought buried. And now, with Tommy involved, the stakes had never been higher. His brother was a force of nature, a man who would do whatever it took to protect their interests. John knew that Tommy's methods were ruthless, and the thought of Florence being on the receiving end of that ruthlessness twisted his insides.

He tried to convince himself that it was just business, that Florence was simply a threat to be neutralised. But even as he tried to cling to that logic, he couldn't shake the image of her caught in Tommy's crosshairs. What if Tommy decided she was too much of a liability? What if he decided to silence her for good? The possibility made John's grip on his glass tighten, knuckles whitening as he fought the surge of protectiveness that rose within him.

It was infuriating to feel so powerless, to be sidelined while Florence's fate hung in the balance. She should have been nothing more than an annoyance, a thorn in their side easily plucked out. Yet here he was, heart pounding at the mere thought of her being harmed. He didn't want to be worried, didn't want to feel this way. It was foreign and uncomfortable, a vulnerability he couldn't afford.

But the truth was undeniable: Florence had become important to him, and he couldn't pinpoint when or why it had happened. Maybe it was the way she challenged him, the way she refused to back down even when threatened. Maybe it was the fire in her eyes that called to something deep within him. Whatever it was, it had taken root, and now he was left grappling with emotions he didn't want to acknowledge.

John let out a frustrated breath, setting his glass down with more force than necessary. The whiskey had done little to numb the turmoil within him. He needed a plan, a way to ensure Florence's safety without defying Tommy outright. But for now, all he could do was wait, each second stretching into an eternity as he wrestled with his own heart, caught between duty and a burgeoning affection he couldn't quite understand.

The door to the Garrison swung open with a force that sent a gust of air through the pub, drawing every eye to its entrance. Tommy Shelby strode in, his presence like a storm brewing, dark and intense. His gaze landed on John, who sat at the bar, his posture tense, a forgotten drink in front of him.

Tommy approached with purpose, each step deliberate and weighted. He took the stool beside John, signalling for a drink, but his focus never wavered from his brother. The silence between them crackled with tension, an invisible line drawn in the sand.

John didn't bother with pleasantries. “What did you do, Tommy?” His voice carried a sharpness that matched the edge in his eyes.

Tommy took a measured sip of his whiskey, his expression unreadable. “I handled it,” he replied, his tone clipped and final.

“Handled it?” John spat, disbelief and anger mingling in his words. “What does that mean? Did you hurt her?”

Tommy’s eyes were cold, his patience thin as ice. “I didn’t touch her, John. But she needed to understand who she’s dealing with.”

John’s jaw tightened, his frustration mounting as he slammed a clenched fist down onto the bar. “What did you do?” he demanded, his voice rising despite the tension between them.

Tommy set his glass down with a deliberate thud, turning to face John fully, their eyes locking in a battle of wills. “I reminded her of the consequences of crossing us. She won’t be a problem anymore.”

John leaned forward, his anger barely contained. “And what did you use against her, Tommy? You think you can just—”

“Stay out of it, John!” Tommy cut in, his voice a whip crack of authority. “You’re letting this get too personal.”

John squared his shoulders, not backing down. “Not my concern, eh?”

Tommy’s gaze was steely, his frustration now mirroring John’s. “You don’t get it, do you? We’re in the middle of a war, and you’re worried about some journalist?”

“She’s not just some journalist,” John shot back, his anger boiling over. But he couldn’t say more, couldn’t reveal the depth of his concern without exposing himself.

Tommy leaned in, his voice low and fierce. “We can’t afford distractions, John. Kimber’s watching us, waiting for any sign of weakness. You need to remember where your loyalties lie.”

John glared at him, the air between them charged and thick with unresolved tension. “My loyalties have never been in question, Tommy. But this—what you’re doing—it’s wrong.”

Tommy stood, his decision final, his gaze hard. “Let it go, John. This is how it has to be.”

They stood there for a moment, two brothers squared off, the weight of their words hanging heavy in the air. Tommy turned and walked away, leaving John with the turmoil of his emotions.

As the bustle of the Garrison resumed around him, John knew he couldn’t simply let this go. Florence was more than a loose end to be tied up, and he wasn’t about to let her become collateral damage in their war. Not without a fight.

The morning air was crisp, a sharp reminder of the tension lingering from the night before. Florence stepped out into the street, her mind still reeling from Tommy Shelby’s visit. His words echoed in her ears, laced with threats and reminders of a past she’d tried to forget. Her jaw was set, her expression steely as she walked her usual route to work, trying to shake the unsettling encounter.

But as she rounded a corner and saw John Shelby leaning casually against a lamppost, her heart sank. She immediately veered to the other side of the street, hoping to avoid him, but John was already moving toward her with a determined stride.

“Florence,” he called out, but she shot him a glare that could cut glass.

“Stay the hell away from me, John,” she snapped, quickening her pace. She had no patience for more Shelby games.

John matched her stride, undeterred. “I just want to know what he said to you.”

Florence halted abruptly, turning to face him with a look of pure fury. “What, so you can run back to your brother and tell him I’m not playing nice?” Her voice was icy. “I’m not interested.”

John’s eyes narrowed, frustration flickering across his features. “I’m not Tommy, Florence. I’m trying to help.”

“Help?” she echoed, incredulous. “The only help I need is from myself, getting as far away from you lot as possible.”

John took a step closer, his frustration turning into something more determined. “You think I don’t know what he’s like?” he countered, his voice rising. “I know he can be a bastard, but I’m not him.”

Florence’s eyes flashed with anger. “You’re all the same. Tommy just proved what I already knew—you’re nothing but thugs, all of you.”

John’s jaw tightened, her words stinging more than he’d like to admit. “Thugs?” he repeated, incredulous. “I was the one who got you out when Kimber’s men came for you at the races. Or did you forget that?”

Florence’s gaze didn’t waver, her anger a blazing fire. “I didn’t forget, John. But that doesn’t change what you are, what you all are. You think you can just push people around and get away with it.”

John’s temper flared, his own frustration boiling over. “You don’t know a damn thing about what we’ve been through, what we have to do to survive.”

Florence scoffed, her arms crossing defensively. “Survive? Is that what you call it? Breaking my typewriter, threatening me? You’re no better than the criminals you claim to protect people from.”

John stepped closer, the space between them crackling with tension. “You think you’re so high and mighty, but you’re the one writing stories about us, playing with fire. And now you’re surprised when you get burned?”

Florence held her ground, her eyes fierce. “I write the truth, John. If you can’t handle that, it’s not my problem.”

Their eyes locked, the air between them charged with a mix of anger and something else—something neither of them wanted to admit. For a moment, the world around them faded, leaving only the heat of their words and the intensity of their standoff.

Finally, Florence broke the silence, her voice quieter but no less fierce. “Stay out of my way, John. I don’t need saving, and I don’t need you.”

John watched her turn and walk away, the fire of their argument still burning in his chest. He knew this wasn’t over, not by a long shot. As Florence’s figure disappeared into the crowd, he felt a pull—a challenge he couldn’t ignore, as infuriating as it was intriguing.

Unlikely Allies: Peaky Blinders and Billy Kimber Forge a Surprising Alliance

By Florence Fletcher - Birmingham Gazette

In a move that has sent ripples through the underworld of Birmingham and beyond, the notorious Peaky Blinders gang has reportedly joined forces with the equally infamous Billy Kimber and his Birmingham Boys. This unexpected alliance between two of the city's most powerful criminal organisations has left both the public and local businesses on edge, as the implications of their cooperation could reshape the balance of power in the Midlands.

The Peaky Blinders, led by the enigmatic Thomas Shelby, have long been a dominant force in the Small Heath area, known for their razor-blade-enhanced caps and ruthless business acumen. With interests in illegal betting, protection rackets, and various illicit activities, the gang's influence has steadily grown since the end of the Great War.

Billy Kimber, a formidable figure in his own right, has built an empire around racecourse betting, controlling tracks across the country with an iron fist. His Birmingham Boys have a reputation for violence and intimidation, ensuring that Kimber's operations remain unchallenged.

Rumours of the alliance first surfaced following a series of clandestine meetings between Shelby and Kimber, held at undisclosed locations to avoid undue attention. Sources close to the gangs suggest that the partnership was forged out of mutual interest, with both parties seeking to expand their influence and consolidate power in the lucrative world of racecourse betting.

The collaboration is said to be centred around a shared desire to eliminate rival gangs and increase profits from the betting industry. By pooling their resources and expertise, the Peaky Blinders and Birmingham Boys aim to establish an unassailable monopoly over the tracks, driving out competitors and maximising their control over the region's gambling activities.

While the full extent of their plans remains shrouded in secrecy, the alliance has already sparked concern among local business owners and residents. The streets of Birmingham are abuzz with speculation about what the future holds, as the Peaky Blinders and Billy Kimber embark on this bold venture.

Despite these uncertainties, some see this partnership as a sign of changing times in Birmingham's underworld. The collaboration between the Peaky Blinders and Birmingham Boys marks a new chapter in the city's criminal history, one that promises to be as tumultuous as it is intriguing. Only time will tell how this partnership will unfold and what consequences it will bring to the people of Birmingham.

For now, all eyes remain on the city's underworld, as the Peaky Blinders and Birmingham Boys make their play for power.

Florence Fletcher sat alone in her dimly lit office, the gentle hum of the city outside filtering through the cracked window. Her desk was cluttered with ink pots, crumpled papers, and a single, neatly typed article. The headline, "Unlikely Allies: Peaky Blinders and Billy Kimber Forge a Surprising Alliance," stared back at her, bold and defiant.

She leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking beneath her, and took a deep breath. Her eyes lingered on the article, tracing the words she had so carefully crafted. Each sentence was a testament to her journalistic prowess, her determination to uncover the truth in a city shrouded by shadows and secrets.

Yet, despite the pride she felt in her work, a knot of anxiety twisted in her stomach. Publishing this piece would undoubtedly invite trouble. The Peaky Blinders, with Thomas Shelby at their helm, were not known for their leniency. And Billy Kimber, with his formidable Birmingham Boys, was equally ruthless. Florence knew that exposing their newfound alliance would paint a target squarely on her back.

She sighed and rubbed her temples, recalling the dismissive sneers and condescending remarks she had endured from both camps. Her interactions with the gangs had been fraught with tension, each encounter a reminder of the power and privilege they wielded without consequence. The memory of their arrogance simmered within her, fueling her anger and frustration.

Florence glanced at the clock on the wall, its ticking a relentless reminder of the decision she had to make. She felt torn between her duty to report the truth and the very real danger that truth might bring. Was it worth risking her safety, her career, to hold these men accountable?

Her fingers drummed lightly on the desk as she pondered her options. She imagined the potential fallout—angry visits from Shelby’s men, veiled threats from Kimber’s associates—but also the impact her article might have on the city. Could her words inspire change? Would they give voice to those who suffered in silence under the gangs' rule?

She stood, suddenly restless, and paced the room. The echoes of her footsteps mingled with the distant sounds of Birmingham, a city pulsing with life and secrets. Her gaze fell again on the article, and for a moment, she saw beyond the risk to the possibility of making a difference.

Florence returned to her desk, her resolve hardening. She picked up the article, feeling the weight of her decision in her hands. Anger burned alongside her fear, a fierce determination to no longer be intimidated, to no longer be silenced.

With a decisive nod, she set the article aside, ready to take it to the editor in the morning. Her mind was made up. Come what may, the truth would be told.

[docgold13]

Batman: The Animated Series - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

Rupert Thorne

A powerful and ruthless crime boss, Rupert Thorne muscled his way into the Gotham City and swiftly took control over a large section of the criminal underworld.  Edging out former kingpins, Arnold Stromwell and Salvatore Valestra, Thorne’s enterprises ranged from narcotics to racketeering, money laundering, gambling and weapons smuggling.  Although his criminal endeavors were well known to the public, the corruption within Gotham's justice system kept Thorne in his penthouse and the authorities off his back.

District Attorney Harvey Dent was determined to put an end to Thorne’s grip on the city.  Dent’s dogged pursuit of Thorne became even more relentless as he was campaigning for reelection as District Attorney.  Dent was getting close and Thorne became desperate to put a stop to it.  

Thorne attempted to blackmail Dent after his agent had pilfered the medical notes from Dent’s psychiatrist.  Dent was contending with rather severe psychological difficulties and Thorne threatened to expose this to the public unless Dent agreed to drop all investigations into his enterprises.  Dent refused and a scuffle broke out wherein Dent was caught in an explosion that terribly scared half of his face.  All this resulted in the creation of the villainous Two-Face.  And Two-Face would prove an even greater threat to Rupert Thorne than Dent had ever been.   

A new breed of criminal was encroaching on Thorne’s territory.  Villains like Two-Face, The Penguin and The Joker were substantially cutting into his profit margins and The Batman was a near constant threat to his whole organization.  Determined to wrestle back control, Thorne hired the mercenary known as Bane to break the Bat and ostensively reseat Thorne atop the criminal empire.  

The plot failed, Batman triumphed over Bane and Thorne’s hold on power became even more tenuous.  In desperate need of cash, Thorne agreed to pool resources with The Penguin and the mob enforcer Carlton Duquesne in a venture to sell high tech weapons to the war-torn nation of Kasnia.  

The operation was taken down by Batman along with the mysterious new heroine, Batwoman.  Duquesne was convinced to testify against Thorne and the once untouchable gangster was sentenced to life in prison at Stonegate Penitentiary.   

The wonderfully intimidating John Vernon provided the voice for Rupert Thorne, with mobster first appeared in the sixth episode of the first season of Batman: The Animated Series, ‘It’s Never Too Late.’  

[tomoyoo]

Manga, books and authors mentioned in A Drunken Dream and Other Stories

I wrote the english names that were used in the book. Honestly the way I organized this gave me a headache but I hope it's useful <3 See more for the list of authors that were mentioned briefly.

Manga mentioned in the interview Mama’s Violin - Tetsuya Chiba Tomboy Angel - Mitsuteru Yokoyama Shinsengumi; Astro Boy - Osamu Tezuka Harp of the Stars; Hello, Teacher; The White Troika - Hideko Mizuno Mist, Roses and Stars - Shotaro Ishitani The Boy from Dartmoor - Nanae Sasaya In the Sunroom; The Song of the Wind and the Trees - Keiko Takemiya You Can Hear the Rain; Birth - Yumiko Oshima Norakuro - Suiho Tagawa The Rose of Versailles - Riyoko Ikeda

Mentioned in Rachel Thorn's essay Fuichin-san - Toshiko Ueda Tomorrow’s Joe - Tetsuya Chiba Eyes of Ice - Nanae Sasaya Aim for the Ace! - Sumika Yamamoto Toward the Terra; Fly Me to the Moon! - Keiko Takemiya Banana Bread Pudding; F-Shiki Ranmaru - Yumiko Oshima Two in a White Room; Arabesque; The Son of Heaven in the Land of the Rising Sun; Terpsichore - Ryoko Yamagishi Mari and Shingo; A Staff and Wings - Toshie Kihara

Books The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett Anne of Green Gables - Lucy Maud Montgomery Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm - Kate Douglas Wiggin Little Women - Louisa May Alcott Shank’s Mare - Ikku Jippensha The Currents of Space - Isaac Asimov The Generative Enterprise Revisited - Noam Chomsky Phantoms in the Brain - V.S. Ramachandran

There's notes at the end giving more context for these authors but I don't have it in me rn.

Interview: Miyako Maki Masako Watanabe Kazuo Umezu Sanpei Shirato Mineko Yamada Ryoko Yamagishi Jun Morita Yasuko Sakata Akiko Hatsu Shio Satoh Aiko Itoh Machiko Satonaka

Essay: Yoshiko Nishitani Minori Kimura Mineko Yamada Akira Mochizuki Sato Tomoe

Book authors: Kenji Miyazawa Jean Stratton-Porter Robert Heinlein Ryotaro Shiba Sawako Ariyoshi Herman Hesse Ray Bradbury Jean Cocteau Kenichiro Mogi