#acrasia

[fieriframes]

[Acrasia.]

[booksandwords]

He was a selfish bastard. But then, he'd never claimed to be anything else. He'd asked to be forgiven because the outcome had suited him. Mick being human terrified him. Humans died all the time. And he couldn't- not Mick.

Acrasia by The_Readers_Muse

The definition of the title is “Acrasia - lack of self control when you act against your better judgment.“ and it suits this so well, it suits Josef doing as he does. I appreciate the play on the relationships between Josef, Mick and Beth. Beth never appears but she is so present. 

[craigfernandez]

[thegaultiergoddess]

signature fragrances and scents tell so much more about a person than their zodiac sign, people really need to get on to this

[valentineinferno]

Fallen cupid design.

[kroashent]

Return to the Tavern - A Familiar Tail

Marie deCygne set down her mug with a satisfied sigh, the sweet tastes of buckwheat and barley lingering from the last sip of the amber honey beer.  Without the drink to occupy her.  She glanced around the table.  Morgiana, of course was nowhere to be seen, replacing any vice of drinking with some other mischief of her own creation, no doubt.  Kathalia sat opposite, leaning her chair back on two legs, swirling the wooden bolee of cider, looking annoyed, but uncharacteristically pensive.  She fidgeted, crossing and uncrossing her leg and she continued to play with her drink.

Gwae, on the other hand, was almost buzzing with intense energy, her fingernails wrapping constantly on the table as she bit her lower lip, leaning so far forwards across the table that she was almost standing.  Marie blinked at the unexpected position for the normally collected Gwae, following her gaze to see her icy-eyes locked on the red-headed sellsword opposite her.  Then Marie noted the stack of three ceramic bowls piled in front of the silver-haired eladan, each having been recently filled with a drink called "Damona's Boon" according to Haizea and something considerably more bawdy according to her clientelle.  The cocktail, a mix of sugar-sweetened cream, buckwheat whiskey and cherries, was popular among the Faerie peoples, enough that it was offered this deep in the Ar Goat.  Marie personally found it a little too sweet for her liking, but Gwae, evidentially, shared no such qualm.  Marie smiled a slight grin, and then stood, taking care not to bother the intense Sidhe as she moved to get another drink from the bar.

The bartender, it seemed, had stepped out, as no one was behind the bar as Marie approached.  She peered casually over the edge, finding the space empty, and turned her attention to the large casks of beer and wine stacked in an alcove behind, the faded arms and labels of brewers and vineyards across Letha and beyond.  She imagined Kathalia would have just reached over the surface and picked up a bottle of her choosing, but Marie waited, puzzling out each label on the casks and drifting in her own thoughts until a voice brought her back to the moment.

"What'll it be." The voice belonged to a woman with dark hair, dressed in a simple apron and dress.  There was something off about the new bartender.  Marie hadn't even seen her approach as she stood, patiently waiting.  Marie blinked, caught off guard as she quickly pushed away her momentary unease and returned to the present.

"A... cidre please," Marie muttered, trying to remember what she had planned on ordering.  Her head was swimming, a sensation similar to standing up to fast, as she leaned on the counter to support herself.   "Brut."

"Coming right up!" The bartender replied, pouring the amber liquid into a wooden bolee.  "So what brings you to Ker-Ahes, and to the Silver Wheel?"

"I'm a trouvere." Marie responded with a practiced flourish and bow, despite the muffled pounding in her head "Seeking out new songs and stories of the Ar Goat, and spreading those I know."

"Oh, a traveling bard!" The bartender clapped her hands together with glee.  "Tell me, do you know 'Ballad of the Blood Moon?"

"It sounds... familiar..." Marie mumbled, a fog descending over her thoughts. 

"So, you'll play it?  Drinks on the house if you do!"

Marie nodded, picking up her lute and making her way to the edge of the bar.  She exhaled, taking in the room.  Everything seemed oddly placed, like a film was placed over the room.  She strummed a note on her lute, almost feeling the vibration travel through the space, sending a ripple shw could almost see across the room.

"The fires burned in Fourtongue's halls, as winter's breath assailed stone walls holding back winter's chill, yet shadows gather round the hill. Whispers of the Black Dog's return, as cold winds blow and lanterns burn. Howl, Howl, the Black Winds Blow Howl, Howl the Blood Moon's Glow"

Marie felt a prickling upon the back of her neck as she continued to play, scanning the tavern room as she strummed along.  There seemed to be movement in the crowd, but Marie played on. 

"Our walls are thick, our gates are strong, Black Dog may gather with his throng, but our swords are sharp, our arrows keen We'll drive him back into the green. Fourtongue raised his might ax, to show he feared no dog of black Howl, Howl, the Black Winds Blow Howl, Howl the Blood Moon's Glow"

Marie's breath quickened as she played, the hair on the back of her neck bristling in an unseen breeze, growing thicker as the flames of the candles began to waver.  Her fingers kept plucking the strings of her lute, even as black claws sprouted from them, growing thicker and sharper with each vibrating note.  Kathalia jumped to her feet suddenly, Gwae following with hunter's reflex.  By now, the crowd was worked up, joining in on the short refrain.

"A great wind blew in from the Black, courage growing weak and slack The fires snuffed, the chill rushed in, the hillside rang with awful din. The Prince, cast out, had come back home, spilling blood and cracking bone. Howl, Howl, the Black Winds Blow Howl, Howl the Blood Moon's Glow"

Brown fur spread along the bards fingers as she played, teeth sharpening into glistening fangs as she smiled, continuning the song.  The music sounded beautiful, more deep and melodic than she had experienced, each strum and pluck as clear as a winterrule sky.  Her ears lengthened, stretching into points resembling her red-haired friends.  As if on queue with the song, the laticed windows of the Silver Wheel tavern flew open, the freezing Black Winds rushing in, the candles fluttering wildly as Marie, heart racing and breath quick, sped up her pace, the muffling fog replaced by the clarity of a winter sky.  Actual howls seemed to replace parts of the chorus as the crowd began to stand, bottles and chairs crashing to the floors as tables were suddenly overturned. 

"The castle's gates of might oak, first they splintered, then they broke. With claw and fang, the Black Dog came, with snarling howl and b...burning flame... The bloody prince with Horned King's Boon, turned his sights upon the ... moon." Howl, Howl, the Black Winds Blow Howl, Howl the Blood Moon's Glow"

Marie stumbled across the song, despite knowing the words and music by heart.  A soft brown fur spread across her ears as they continued to lenghten, her fingers thickening as she played.  She panted, her face begining to stretch into a fang filled snout as she sang, growls finding their way into the pauses of the bloody ballad. Something pressed against her pants, tearing at the seams to reveal thick brown fur.  Claws ripped through her soft boots, revealing her pawlike feet, heels arching upwards as the tips of her black claws sharpened. Gwae had Kathalia against the walls as chairs and tables began to overturn, the glamour faltering.  For a moment, Marie faltered as the crowd turned before her eyes.  But she felt exhilarated.  She could almost smell the blood of the Fourtongue and the burning of Pont-Ivi.  A hunger and excitement rose within her, pushing her onwards. 

"The moon became as red as blood, the trickle of death became a flood The gates, the gates, the Fourtongue cried, but the walls had broke, the archers died. With wind of black and moon of red, the son climbed the stairs for father's head...

Marie's muzzle reached its limit, giving the bard an unmistakeable canine visage.  Her feet, ripped through her boots, were now paws, sharp claws scratching the floor.  A tail finally burst out from its fabric prison.  The lute dropped from lupine paws and Marie did not finish with the refrain, instead joining the chorus of howls filling the tavern. 

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Val's Notes: I mentioned before that these particular drawings were drawn years ago, and for a few reasons, simply never saw the light of day.  I wanted to share them with you all, but also turn them into something more, adding in a story to add a new creative flow rather than reposting the older work without additon, as well as rehabilitate my crippled drive to write.

I'll admit, this is probably my least favourite of the multi-part drawing series, but I really had fun with Marie actually doing bard things and transforming as she sings a relevant song.  I may do another picture down the line that properly matches up with what is happening in the story.  

I hope you enjoy Marie's song.  Would people be interested in me creating a full version (With the singer less wolfy by the end of it)?  I imagine there's more before and after the part Marie sings. 

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Others in this set:

Gwae: https://www.deviantart.com/kathalia/art/Moonlight-Maidens-Return-to-the-Tavern-877714588

Kathalia and Gwae: https://www.tumblr.com/kroashent/723946985005170688/moonlight-maidens-return-to-the-tavern-by?source=share

Kathalia: https://www.tumblr.com/kroashent/724028159030345728/return-to-the-tavern-kathalias-brawl-i-did-say?source=share ----------------

If you're enjoying these pieced, please check out the full length Kroashent story, Kroashent: Bal Des Loups.  I'd love to hear people's take on the story as I continue to work on it!

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If you would like to support my art help the world of Kroashent come to life, as well as receive other rewards like sneak-peaks, exclusive versions and sketches, please visit my Patreon page, with a wide array of tiers for all budgets: www.patreon.com/Kroashent Check out the full story of Kroashent: Bal des Loups, on Archive of Our Own or in this gallery: https://archiveofourown.org/series/3141606 Want to chat Kroashent or Val's art in general? Drop in on Kroashent on Discord: discord.gg/MZjc3Gg Learn more about the world of Kroashent on our official Wiki: https://www.worldanvil.com/w/alvez-kroashent

[paperbaacks]

i’d like to ask a question. you mention in your review of a study in drowning acrasia or amoret. do you remember the page(s) where the quote is mentioned? i’d like to highlight it in my own copy since it is a reference to the faerie queene and i love both works.

hello!! i don't have the physical copy with me at the moment so i can't give you the exact pages unfortunately. but i can tell you the quotes and the chapters they're in!

the first one is in chapter 12 — in the letter from myrddin dated 17 april 189

"She is generally seen as an aspect, or rather, an equivalent, of Saint Acrasia, who, as you know, is the patroness of seductive love." 

and another mention is three lines below

"Like your two-headed goddess, Saints Acrasia and Amoret."

the very first line of chapter thirteen:

"It is theorized that the goddesses Acrasia and Amoret were once a single female figure, rather than the two-headed goddess worshipped in Llyr today."

and another halfway through chapter 13 when ianto asks to have a conversation with effy alone and asks preston to leave

"All women are either an Acrasia or an Amoret. Patroness of seduction or patroness of submission. But some women are far more one than the other. I believe you’re an Acrasia." 

there are two more mentions in chapter 15 i believe but i can't find them atm :(

hope this helps tho! i had to look them up after i read the book because i didn't know the faerie queen and though ava reid had made them up haha

[me0wwwzer]

random kora sketch ive made :P

theres so much to tell about my ocs

click on it for better quality (i still don’t understand how tumbler works after using it for 6 years..)

[solcattus]

Acrasia dans les bois, 1892

By Fernand Khnopff

[pvrkacciosan]

Akrasia

Summary: Akrasia; acrasia - The state of mind in which someone acts against their better judgment through weakness of will. You hated Garrick Tavis. He was arrogant. Threw his size around to please his friend and most of all was so attractive you couldn't ignore. So yeah! You hated him.

Pairing: Garrick Tavis X Fem! Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: !NSFW! Unedited part.

☽⋆❈⋆☾

You hated every rippling inch of his muscled body.

Garrick Tavis. The bane of your existence at Basgiath and most importantly the biggest pain in the ass.

Everything he did, if only you could wrap your hands around his throat and reduce the oxygen running to his brain, so you might get some peace from the blood thrumming thoughts that slipped you at the sight of him.

The sheer size, a weapon of his own which he used for Xaden's benefits. You hated it. Hated them both. Strutting around the war college like the gods had shoved the sun up their back sides.

It was infuriating to watch cadets move from their way, many of which were simply unwilling to stand against the wall of muscle that was Garrick Tavis.

And most importantly you hated the fact you had let yourself into this current position. Back pressed almost painfully into the wall, pinned by that same wall of muscle between your legs.

Garrick hadn't seemed to care what your words meant as you spat them at him. Hatefully throwing your rage into them.

"I hate you" You fused your soul to the words, as though speaking them aloud would allow you to remind herself you hated him even as he rolled his hips into you.

The sheer friction of his growing erection against your pulsing core causing your head to roll back against the wall. A soft moan escaping after your words, despite trying to fight it, despite the hate in your tone.

"Shut up." Garrick's words were clipped, quick as he moved his mouth to the expose column of your throat. The warmth of his lips made you curve. Molding to Garrick's will as his hands gripped you tighter, holding you in place.

His tongue flicked against the pulse in your neck, teeth grazing the flesh above your artery. One act from hims could so easily had you bleeding to death, You would have hated it but couldn't find the feeling as his teeth nipped the skin.

Wrapping both legs, pulling Garrick closer by your hold.

He groaned, the pressure in his pants growing at the enclosed space, The space which grew smaller as you needed him closer. He pulled away just enough to breath his words against your throat.

"I thought you hated me."

You tried to speak but his mouth repositioning on your jaw, halted you, his breath ghosting the bone before he began slathering it in kiss after kiss. Flat togue running the warmth further from his hold.

"I do."

His soft chuckle was low, a sound which rumbled into your core causing shockwaves to skitter through your bones. He was an inch from attaching to the divot at your collarbone when he spoke, word a loose breath, "Doesn't seem like it."

Words weren't a virtue you could force right now, tilting your pelvis up in need of friction. Damn him and his stupid mouth for getting you into this position,

You panted painfully at the ache growing, One of Garrick's hands slipped down to cup the curve behind your knee, thumb rubbing slow circles into the muscle of your outer thigh.

"I do." The words were mixed with the pants of air, almost inaudible. Indistinguishable as Garrick twisted, arm bracing the wall beside your torso, caging you in entirely with his body. That fucking body. You hated the way it felt against your own, hated the way he seemed to answer every call of your pleasure with ease.

"Do what? Sweetheart" He pulled back, eyes half-lidded with the sensations he struggled to hide on his expression, His brow was raised in a mock, The arrogance in his tone made your anger rile.

"I hate yo-" You couldn't stop the gasp of surprise as his hand moved suddenly tipping down past the waistband of you leathers, thumbing searching, seeking the bundle of nerves.

Garrick was studying your own expression, eyes squeezed shut. All the air around you had evaporated, eyes finally fluttering open when he stilled, hand unmoving, There wasn't any doubt he could feel the heat emanating from your core.

Looking at you now, you could have smacked him. The cocky half lifted grin almost met his eyes, "Didn't catch that Sweetheart."

The name infuriated you, "I Hate you"

He waited for you to finish your words as his thumb found the bud he sought. Pleasure ignited like a thousand matches had been lit across the surface of your skin as he traces the edges of the nerves.

"My Sweetheart is so tender"

The only sensation you could feel beyond the pulses of pleasure was the dull ache as your head pressed to the wall. Tilting back with gritted teeth, "Don't call me that."

His lips reattached to your jaw, Unyielding against the already hot flesh, he moved to savor the other side of you facial bone. Hands moving to curl around the underside of your ass.

"Sweet" - Kiss - "Heart"

The cool air hit your spine, air creeping in around you as Garrick grunted arms lifting you from the shared position against the wall. What wall or where in the school you were right now. Didn't matter.

You couldn't care less, only that Garrick couldn't multitask very well. Even with one hand holding you up against him, His other had begun to neglect its movement against your clit.

A new ache had begun building, a insatiable need that grew stronger the longer you went without the brush of his touch. Using your arms to hug closer to his chest, you shift to angle your head, Hand deliberately slow in dragging his attention to you, fingers feeling the stubble of his chin.

Garrick let out a needy moan when you roughed his lips with your own, He huffs into your mouth at the need of air. Pulling from you, head tilting as he manoeuvred around the space. Dropping the weight of your body to a surface.

It was solid but something for him to balance you on, A table or wooded units of sorts. It was cold, the new temperature on the furniture enlisting goosebumps across your body.

"Garrick" You weren't sure if you meant for his name to come out as a plea, or threat. Did you want him to stop...

The word were a dizzying challenge. One you couldn't bring yourself to continue. It was easier to offer over to the sensations he beckoned with his touch.

The first few buttons on your shirt had become undone, exposing the valley of your breast, sternum bare to the cold. Garrick ignores your words, smirking he places a lazy kiss to the edge of your mouth.

Your breathing had begun to turn ragged as you watched him, he lowered, head falling below your field of vision, and continues lowers still.

The room was so quiet you could hear your own heart, thrumming like drums in your ear. The first trace of his touch on your bare torso made you writhe. Spine curving until you lay back on the surface.

Garrick ran kisses down the line of your sternum then over your stomach, Pants of air worked their way up through you throat.

He murmured words against your skin, words inaudible to your ears, which had grown so heated in the time from the wall to the table it was a struggle to even hear the sound of your own fast exhales.

As his tongue flitted your navel Garrick's hands worked their way up your legs, coming to rest against your hip, Your head fell back against the hard surface beneath you.

You weren't sure if the sounds leaving you were words or simple noises of plea.

His fingers worked into the bindings of your leathers, his kisses continued rounding, following the lines of your ribs, savouring every inch of your skin that lay exposed. Ripping the clothing off your legs in a single movement, your hate reignited. He had done it so effortlessly, Stripped you bare until you lay exposed, You hated it.

Garrick made even quickly work of removing his own leathers, the sweat already clinging to his musclebound chest, the sight of it made your breathing erratic. It was a reaction he shouldn't have evoked. You hated that he could arise such a...

The hot exhale stilled your every thought, Kisses recontinuing as they followed past your navel. Going lower, Until you arched for his touch, ached to your very core.

Garrick conveniently had placed himself kneeling between you legs, Hands working into the spaces behind your knees. Using his hold there to push you further up the table. So when he leaned down, mouth attaching to your— 

Holy burning fucking hell.

His tongue was warm and thrust into you with an unrelenting tempo. Breathing is an insignificant struggle you choose to ignore for so long your chest began to ache in protest. Gasping was your only solace, the only cling to oxygen.

The thrusts were mingling with the exhales, so in tune with one another your heart even joined. Pulse hammering harder into the cage of your chest.

Hate Garrick all you will but he knew how to tongue fuck his way to oblivion. The pleasure was so blinding that even the edges of your vision had grown blurry.

A coil had situated itself low in your gut, an unrelenting force as strong as his tongue which built stronger with each thrust as he tilted his head getting even impossible deeper. A crashing of a wave cresting the surface, Your spine felt pliant when Garrick stroked a hand up the centreline of your torso.

Hand curling to twist, cupping the round expanse of your breasts, Painfully he pinched your nipple in between two fingers and with the next thrust of his tongue that crashing wave barreled into you.

The full force of it rocked the world on its axis around you, Spinning as Garrick rested up on his elbows,

"Still hate me Sweetheart" The haze of your vision made it difficult to glance at that demandable smirk you knew plagued his expression. The same smirk you wanted to slap off his face at all times of the day.

"Yes." You shuffled from the shoulders to reposition on the table.

Garrick's forearm pinned you down when you tried to rise, He steadily lifts himself up in one singular motion, maintaining the gaze he used to rake over your naked exposed body beneath his hold.

"You hate me?" He beckoned the scoff from you lips,

He leaned over you entirely now, body entrapping any escaping heat, You hesitated to even breathe at his closeness, so aware of the ripples of his toned body above your own, the table creaked but held place with the combined weight.

He curled a hand into you thigh, nails tickling the surface of your molten flesh.

"But I am the only one who can make you squirm this much." You wanted to refuse his words, even knowing damn well you forced back the urge to roll your hips up to meet his for the sweet hope of friction.

Still you shook your head, protesting in any way you could, "You haven't fucked me yet" Tilting your head back in a weak act of defiance to the commanding aura that his presence brought, He released you legs to brush below his lip with his thumb, the evidence of your release coating his finger as he cleaned his chin.

You swallowed hard watching intensely as he lapped up the substance off the pad of his thumb. Brow raised when he finished tasting your lingering essence, "Is that so?"

He had forcefully grabbed your legs, standing at the edge of the table he yanked your body to the end. Pulling you to sit up closer to his chest. You ass rested against the edge awkwardly as Garrick lowered below the height of the table.

You tried to not look down as he aligned himself,

"Want me to stop?" He stilled, shoulders shaking with anticipation. Garrick took the second to meet your stare, If you asked now. He would stop. Even through the hate, you felt the pulsing need for pleasure, the craving that lingered in your chest.

You glance down, to where your bodies almost joined, Your legs spread rested on either side of his hip. The erect size of him waiting at your entrance.

The sight was dizzying, Garrick shuffled on his feet, the tip brushing between the folds as he moved. You almost moved towards the touch, waiting the moment he would fill you. Mouth salivating at the thought of what it would feel like to have him down your throat.

"Use your words Sweetheart." Adverting your gaze back to him, Garrick had invaded the space you breathed, could taste the sweet scent of his arousal on your tongue. He was so close you could almost taste yourself on him.

"Don't stop."

and then he slide in slowly, a gasp leaving from you at the fullness. An incomplete feeling that rocked you forwards, arms wrapping to enclose you to him. Chin digging into his shoulder for support.

The unwavering sensation, the length was fulfilling in the ways his tongue had not been.

Yes you hated every rippling inch of his muscles body, but perhaps this could be the inches of Garrick Tavis you did enjoy.

...

A.n: Perhaps I might just do a part 2. They haven't even made it to the bed yet😏 I hope this was okay for now.

[imninahchan]

⌜　⠀⠀ 　　　∿　𝐀𝐊𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐀 ۫   ᥫᩣ . ݁ ָ࣪

Em filosofia prática, acrasia (em grego: ἀκρασία; romaniz.: akrasia, ❝não ter comando sobre si mesmo❞) é a ação de uma pessoa que contraria seu melhor juízo sobre o que fazer em determinada situação.

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𓂃 ഒ ָ࣪ s i n o p s e

❝Você jurou, se sobrevisse aquele naufrágio, não iria viver para nada senão realizar a sua vingança — matar ZEUS.❞

[#] literatura sáfica, literatura erótica, harém, narrativa épica, ação, violência, mitologia grega.

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⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ───── spotify, pinterest, moodboards.

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𓂃 ഒ ָ࣪ c a p í t u l o s

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ATO I, o mito de circe

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ning yizhuo

⠀⠀

⠀⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ATO II, o mito de perséfone

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀jennie ruby jane

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⠀⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ATO III, o mito de pandora

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ kim minjeong

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⠀⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ATO IV, o mito de ártemis

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ kim yeri

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⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ATO V, o mito das moiras

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ kang seulgi

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⠀⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ATO VI, o mito de anfitrite

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ roseanne park, ROSÉ

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⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ATO VII, o mito de nêmesis

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ uchinaga aeri

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⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ATO VIII, o mito de medusa

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ yu jimin

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⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ATO IX, o mito de atena

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ kim jisoo

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⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ATO X, o mito de éris

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀lalisa manobal

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⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ATO XI, o mito de afrodite

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ park sooyoung, JOY

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⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ATO XII, o mito de hera

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ bae joohyun

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⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ATO XIII, o mito das amazonas

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⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ⓞⓑⓡⓘⓖⓐⓓⓐ ⓟⓞⓡ ⓛⓔⓡ

[redance]

【 shioli kutsuna //. cis woman //. she/her 】 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠… AKANE MATSUMOTO into The Hub. You are registered to be TWENTY-NINE and have been given citizenship for ALL YOUR LIFE under the Expatriate Act. According to the data compiled, your most notable qualities seem to be AMBITIOUS & CALCULATING. Please confirm that you are CHAOTIC NEUTRAL. From what we’ve gathered your place of employment is currently for the SHABIRU as a GEISHA . We strongly advise that you provide the correct information pertaining to your background to ensure proper safety precautions: are you a _HOST_ or _HUMAN_? A deeper dive into our archive suggests that you are  A PAINTING IN MOTION WITH EVERY GRACEFUL GESTURE ,BALANCING ON THE TIP OF A KNIFE , SKIN BATHED IN HEADY WINE, NEVER-ENDING REINVENTION OF THE SELF. Though we noticed you, too, are similar to LA BELLE OTERO, SALOME, MILADY DE WINTER ( THE THREE MUSKETEERS ) , ACRASIA ( THE FAERIE QUEENE ) ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ᴠᴇʀɪғɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! Please comply to all regulations and laws. It is our hope that you enjoy your stay. 

FULL NAME: akane matsumoto .

NAME MEANING: akane 茜羽 deep red, matsumoto 松本 base of the pine tree

NICKNAMES: whatever your heart desires, though she is exclusively called just akane . geishas usually only have one stage name.

OCCUPATION :geisha, dancer, actress .

AGE : twenty-nine .

PLACE OF BIRTH : tokyo, japan .

GENDER : cis woman .

LANGUAGES : japanese, korean, mandarin chinese, english .

ETHNICITY: japanese .

DATE OF BIRTH : presumably 5.01.2015 .

ZODIAC : capricorn sun . virgo moon . libra rising

EASTERN ZODIAC: goat™ / ...vintage hermès by jean paul goatier

a girl is nothing until she is everything. adopted and raised by the shabiru clan. was found on a rainy winter morning, with no name. but that's not her tale. not the one she tells nor the one that reverberates in the mouths of all those who know her. if you ask akane, she'll tell you that she comes from a family of former geishas, each one lined up like precious pearls around the necks of japan's most eminent individuals. they danced for emperors, kings and queens, between the offerings and banquets, divine and unattainable, fated to be remembered.

elegance is her first language. they knew it from the start — how she kept her back straight and perfectly positioned her hands, even as a child. 'she could be something deadly', they whispered. 'but she'll also be something beautiful.' she was taught how to hold a blade in one hand and a book of poems in the other, used of course as a counterbalance, for both were of equal use when wielded correctly. when the rest of the nins went to sleep, she danced, painted and played an array of instruments, each one more complicated than the last.

when they speak of salome, tell them she wasn't always like this. she never found a mother in any of the women of the shabiru clan, but she loved and was beloved, truly, irreversibly, and madly, by one of their former geishas — thus akane even served as a maiko by this woman's side. greatly favoured by the aforementioned geisha, akane was weaned on attention and grew up to be rather competitive and emulous, yet in spite of her cruel ambition, she knew when to show mercy too; perhaps it was an innate trait, or even an echo of her true spirit.

anything that you can do, she can do it better. was an apprentice for four years and made her debut as a geiko upon turning eighteen. if there's one thing that rings true is that she never knew how to concede — she would bite and scratch and walk forward even when her feet and hands were battered and bruised and oozing blood; watch her dance, in a pool of crimson, in a pool of red, until there's nothing left but the emptiness.

a rose flung into a room, all hue and scent. she's held her tenure for almost eleven years now, and during this time, she's managed to reach the very top of the ladder. at least in terms of her profession. now, she dances and smiles, points a finger at any traitorous man, amating them with an idle laugh. watch her give contour and grace and style to discord and disarray. between heaven and abyss, only she exists.

TRIVIA.

the closest thing to a celebrity or an idol. is a woman of great prestige. she's well-known and adored by many, but unlike most celebrities, akane, as a geisha, exclusively entertains selected individuals and not the public. army candy of many— but ultimately belongs to no one.

at the moment, she isn't employed at a specific location, but rather can be seen wherever one needs/invites her. it's worth noting that she's quite expensive, high-in-demand and selective. it adds an air of mystery to her persona.

she's had many loyal patrons over the years, some that according to rumors she accepted as lovers, but those are all just speculations. however, there is one theory that could back up this claim — people whisper that a certain design/part of a hotel in the city was modeled after her breasts, especially when you look at it from the side. apparently, an architect fell in love with her and decided to immortalize her in this way. akane never confirmed nor denied it.

lives a very decadent life, greatly due to her patrons. jewelry, expensive materials, lavish food and drinks, she can just glance at it, and they'll get it for her.

notoriously bathes in high-priced wine and sake. not always, and certainly not as often as she tells people, but it's nice to soak in someone's yearly paycheck. i mean what. she does also sell her bath water, so if you don't agree, look the other way.

she performs at weddings, high-end events, holds tea ceremonies, and can be booked privately, be it for more or just one individual.

most notably, akane invented 'the red dance'. it's her own take on the jiuta mai, with some modern influence. it's intricate, thought-provoking and takes months to learn. perfected it by dancing in the rain without getting the lower part of her kimono wet. she's dressed in red from head to toe whenever she performs it.

emulates salome in many aspects. while she is trained and skilled in martial arts, akane much prefers to play the coy part and have others point their blades and bring her body parts of anyone who has wronged her.

at the moment, does mostly spy work and brings information back to the shabiru. her current involvement with them is veiled in a thick layer of secrecy, so unless someone's a member of their clan, they won't know much about her, other than what she wants them to think. this of course, may be subject to change in the future.

stared in a couple of films, at the behest, once again of her patrons. they were mostly minor roles, but after all, it's only another way to gain more notoriety.

whatever hides beneath all these layers of lies could be something ugly, but a journey of self-discovery still awaits her. she wants to believe that she's capable of something more.

PLOTS.

all jumbled up together but here we go i. a person who got to know akane on a deeper level. how and why can definitely be discussed but with them there's no need to perform. she gets to be herself, without all the makeup and lavish kimonos. ii. of course people that she's spying on or trying to get some intel on them. iii. regular clients who always come back, regardless of their reason. perhaps they want to discuss poetry, drink tea, or simply talk about their day. akane will listen as long as she's getting paid. when the cards decline, it's time for you to go. iv. higher-ups who believe that she's on their side or that they can win her over and have her come to their faction. she'd love to see the effort. v. perhaps the greatest sin of all would be to leave this world without having loved. things are already complicated, but why not make it even worse. they can always try, they can always fail. what is it about love that makes it so fatal? vi. some mutual dislike or perhaps it just comes from their side. maybe they're not buying her story fully, so they're trying to find more. vii. listen, she's been everywhere. you're bound to run into her at some point. so there could be people who know her from much earlier times, back when she was just starting out. viii. fans, patrons of her work. love it when things get a little obsessive. ix. someone who got exposed or will be exposed because of her. so much more! i'm always here to entertain crazy ideas.

[renalyxx]

Acrasia

A•kra•sia

Noun: Lack of self control

[jedimordsith]

writing patterns (tag game)

I was tagged by the lovely @virusq in the game to list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics, and see if there's a pattern.

I'm a little afraid to look, but here goes!

Luke had been bound countless times since he’d left Tatooine as a young man. (Bound)

Fog roiled along the blue-black dirt at his feet, cool and thick. (Vanguard)

The final lock gave with a harsh click. (SAPGR)

Luke tracked right around the giant, multi-tiered fountain that dominated the center of the skyhook’s botanical garden. (Baatir)

Turquoise beads glittered at Mara’s wrists, waist, and shoulders as she turned, extending her hand and a polite smile to the Rodian Karrde was clearly introducing her to. (Proclivities)

Luke was waiting for her when Arihnda stepped inside Thawn’s quarters. (Appetizers)

The burning itch underneath Luke’s skin noticeably intensified. (Redamancy)

The transfer office was tucked into a small storefront at the mouth of an unremarkable side corridor that branched off the Kanner Outpost's main thoroughfare. (Nal Hutta)

The concealed panel in the ‘fresher wall opened with the light press of a finger. (Selcouth)

Luke tugged at his uniform jacket and double-checked the number on the tiny ID plate beside the door. (Acrasia)

Welp, I'm nothing if not a creature of habit. Everything either starts with what Luke is doing or scene setting, usually linked to a specific starting object. I should probably branch out, but I'm sure I won't. Tagging anyone who hasn't been tagged yet who would like to play!

[selstice]

Acrasia !!

[kroashent]

Kroashent Character Spotlight: Acrasia Beldam

I'm currently undertaking a small creative project, developing some of the secondary characters who have placeholder articles on the Kroashent WorldAnvil page. It seems like a good place to refocus my efforts and clean things up a bit. I'll be returning to answering Q+As soon (questions are always open and welcome) and writing the next chapters of the book. In the meantime, working on a lot of commission work, so this is something of a side project when the tablet is charging.

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Val's Notes: Acrasia was not intended to be a major villain, but she's sort of grown into the role. Acrasia is a malevolent creature, the sort of Fae that one doesn't want to run into in a fairy tale. She is inspired by Acrasia, a minor villain in Edmund Spenser's 1590 poem, The Faerie Queene and John Keats' 1890 poem, La Belle Dame Sans Merci. Acrasia herself is cruel, cold and vindictive, but she is not without her own motivations and values, mourning her slain sisters and lost home even as she spreads her own unique brand of chaos and misery. I am sure we'll be seeing more of Acrasia.

I've included two drawings of her by the talented Veika, who did an amazing job on this nasty little trickster.

(Check out her gallery here: https://www.deviantart.com/veika)