#but for like more info i think the character would only bind sometimes

[sunshine304]

New Fanbinding! Two fics by KouriArashi

Now that the gift copies for @gingersnapwolves have arrived (and how quick the post was this time, I'm in awe!), I can post about my latest fanbinding project.

I had decided on binding both fics about, uhm, two years ago? XD I love all of Kouri's CQL fics; she's actually the reason I started watching the show in the first place, so it was a no-brainer to bind some of her fics!

I think I did the typset for "The Way It Wasn't" in 2021 but I had a specific design idea for the case in mind and didn't feel confident to tackle that just yet, so the printed version sat around for... a while. Sometime after that, I did the typeset for "Picking Up the Pieces", which took longer because of the photo edits.

I finally got around to actually making the books in May and I'm very pleased with the results, though there were a lot of stumbling blocks in both projects and I'm actually surprised that the finished books look good. XD I was sure I'd case in the block upside down after all the other mishaps, but at least I didn't do that. XD (I might have checked each book like five times, though... just in case. XD)

More pictures and info about the process behind the cut.

The books are supposed to be the first in a series of 5, each focussing on one of the great sects, and so I decided to use the same basic design ideas: colour-coded for the sect, the cut-out on the front, the little graphic on the back, same brand of Parisian marbled paper, frontispiece depicting the location, sect logo as title page, same design for titling on the spine.

For some reason, my camera refuses to really catch the foil colour from "Picking Up the Pieces" on the titling - it's a light pink/ rosé coloured foil.

The planned design for that book really caused me quite some grief, because it turned out that the foil I'd wanted to use (a light lilac one) did not work on this kind of book cloth. It's only for using a laminator / hot iron and so also doesn't work on paper with a foil pen.

I changed the colours for that books so often, going to a coated lilac cloth (where the foil works because it's coated...) but that didn't look good with the light coloured paper I used with the logo (no contrast), so I went back to this cloth and went looking for another foil. I tried rosegold which was okay, but then I lucked out and got the light pink one at a local shop.

For "The Way It Wasn't", I used a lot of official art:

For "Picking Up th Pieces", I used a mix of (edited) official art and photo edits I made myself. The "problem" of this fic is that Lan Wangji starts living at Lotus Pier, wearing Jiang colours most of the time and no forehead ribbon.

Also, Jiang Yanli is now sect leader and needed some fancy clothes. Luckily, Xuan Lu has acted in a lot of dramas recently where she wore some more dramatic robes that would fit a sect leader. I had to do colour edits of the robes at times and at one point had to photoshop Lan Wangji into a picture with her. My old Photoshop did not like all of this but I managed in the end. XD

I'm pleased with the results and might make a post with the photo edits at one point.

I also asked Kouri about her fancast for the OC Yu Zhiyi; that was a while ago. I wanted to include a picture of the character but didn't want to choose someone at random if Kouri already had someone in mind. Of course, I never mentioned that this was for the book; it was supposed to be a surprise after all! ;D

I'm really pleased with how the books turned out, especially considering all the stuff that went wrong in making the cases... XD I guess I can say I learned some things? XD

It's always fun if you mess up something on one case and think, "Ah well, this will be my copy then, I guess!" and then you mess up even worse on the other case! XD So Kouri got the book with more air bubbles in the logo because on the other case, the title was crooked. Argh!

I added some ornaments to distract a bit from that. It's also important to know that I'm a bit OCD about titles and stuff being crooked, I just hate it. This was a very sad moment for me.

But that's always the danger when fumbling around with that flimsy foil and the print-out. I'll live! :D

Materials used:

Printed on Clairefontaine Papago 80g (TWIW) and Clairefontaine DCP 100g (PUTP)

Case + endpapers "The Way It Wasn't":

- booklinen Brillianta - French marbled paper 120g - craft paper - hot foil (on brand)

Case + endpapers "Picking Up the Pieces":

- booklinen Imperial - French marbled paper 120g - Rössler letter paper 100g - hot foil (cheap stuff)

[gh0stload]

#𝘼𝙑𝙑𝘼𝙍𝘼𝙉 [...] - IN THE COLDEST NIGHTS / LET ME THAW YOUR BONES / SING OF YOUR BRAVERY / AND REIGNITE THE FIGHT STILL IN OUR HEARTS .

𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒚 𝒊𝒏   ;        the relentless hunt , bravery against the unknown, the heart is an eye,   idealism vs dogma, an oath is binding,  taking free advice from spirits, a semi-nomadic lifestyle, & seeing yourself for what you really are: an animal, hungry and foolish .

an indie and selective roleplay blog for YONGTEN: a rogueish dragon age companion / npc from the AVVAR. a reinspired take on avvarian lore with heavier focus on the mongolian / tibetan themes presented in canon . oc + crossover friendly . not spoiler free . lovingly crafted by hawk. this blog is both selective and mutually exclusive so please do not interact if we're not mutuals or if you're under the age of twenty - one. minors will be blocked. please read the rules below before interacting!

T🇭​​🇷​​🇴​​🇼​​🇮​​🇳​​🇬​ ​🇬​​🇴​​🇦​​🇹​​🇸​ ​🇼​​🇮​​🇹​​🇭​ … saran url , idk

━━━━━   BIO || VERSES || LORE ━━━━━  

01. i'm 29 yrs old, latine , genderfluid, and living in cst . feel free to send me IMs if you want to plot or talk about the muses . due to my demanding schedule i am extremely low activity . i require patience and understanding from my mutuals .

i may post oocly on the dash but i am often working sun-thurs. after 6 pm cst i am almost always available for chatting even if i am not rping . I have discord available upon request if you want to reach me on the regular . i curate my space often but please do not be deterred from reaching out & starting a conversation . i am actually quite shy but once we get talking i am your jester fr .

NOTHING   on here is owned by me unless stated otherwise . the psds i am currently using for icons/graphics are self -made or by these talented people :  

  FOSSAED  ,  CAVALIERFOU  , ASHHEARTSHELPS , etc  .

i  always  check  mun  info when  reading  rules  /  looking  at blogs  ! 

02. this blog will take what lore we have of the Avvar and apply it to a shared headcanon with @ . they come from their own clans and hold mapped somewhere in the far south of the frostbacks. if you wish to know more, please check out our lore tags. if you don't like that we lessened the popularized viking/celts aspect, well, to each their own. i personally think its fun to un-westernize our fantasy a little. :) feel free to not follow if that is a hard no for you.

03. THIS  BLOG  MAY  HOLD  TRIGGERING TOPICS  AND  SPOILERS  .

such as but not exclusive to : Violence / Gore / Trauma / Language , etc   . i , as a mun , of course  DO NOT ADVOCATE for the behavior of my character or others or my fandom on top of that . i try to keep to my own corner really . this applies to general rpc happenings , too . Yongten himself is sometimes bullheaded and sometimes ignorant in his youth . please communicate with me if he ever offends you passed the bounds of ic.

threads of an explicit or dark nature could appear , however i have my limits . i have  NO   time for able*sm, r*cism ,  p*dophila , inc*st , r*pe , or lgbt fetishizing / homophobia . if you ask or present me with it , i  WILL   block you . 

I will always tag  NSFW   for images / gifs / threads . anything else that is potentially triggering will have a  TW   after it . i don't do fancy tags for triggering content so you will be safe here , just ask me to tag something if it's reasonable .

i also refuse to participate in mature threads with minors or follow them .  in fact, even if this blog content is 18+, I will only interact with rpers who are 21+.

04 . I don't require my partner to match the length of my replies . i am always open to general script rp to start our interactions , too ! i don't mind if you do or don't format posts , i don' t judge !

concerning RP , multis please specify which muse you would like to interact with when sending in memes or liking starter calls . unfortunately i am not a mind reader and i'm inclined to panic and inevitably not answer someone's rp if i don't know who they want to interact with . 

 i'm always down for forming / establishing many kinds of relationships if we have agreed to it beforehand . I don't mind one sided shipping either .  i only ask that we discuss what dynamic we both want before assuming to auto-ship with me .

05. Do not involve me in drama. I will block liberally if you are of the opinion that someone who annoys you warrants a smear campaign or you create a hostile space on your blog or in GCs/Communities for people who have not done anything wrong besides not mesh well with your rp style. Don't message me about it, don't send me posts about it. I am a big fan of curating your space and rp experience.

[crispy-sand-gator]

wanna make a trans dude/nb character who doesnt dress how ppl expect them to n shit, but im afraid ppl r gonna shit their pants over the design or call it transphobic or fetishy or smth even tho itd literally be how i am irl 👁️  👁️

[tuliptyper]

(Enby) Hange Hcs ♡

i love love love non binary Hange but i think some cis people just see enbys as just Girl/Boy But Quirky™ which is very transphobic btw!! ill write some more info abt writing enby characters under the cut if yall want some tips/info BUT ANYWAY

im trans and non binary so i have brought it upon myself make some super queer headcanons :)

((no tws minus some mentions of dysphoria and genitalia but in a non sexual way!))

( these are separated into AMAB and AFAB hange, i may do some intersex ones too after some research but let me know if yall like these hcs! ) ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

General Hcs;

- they came out to their family relatively young, about 13/14 yrs of age. the only none family members they really 'came out' to were Moblit and Mike. after that, they didnt feel the need to explain their identity to anyone else and only ever corrected people on their pronouns (which they also gave up on later in their 20s /pos)

- always kinda figured they deviated in some way, theyve always been curious and love to learn so the concept of the LGBT wasnt new nor was it scary for them to realise they're nb. they accepted and embraced it really quickly!

- more so alignes with 'genderqueer' than trans but isnt super picky about labels as a whole. Hange is Just Hange™

- would describe their gender as 2008 Toyota Carolla with full confidence and no elaboration

★ AFAB Hange;

- either binds or got a reduction/top surgery; they sometimes dont mind their chest being more visable but most of the time prefer it flat.

- maxed out around 5'9 in college and they will ALWAYS brag about it smh

- hormone blocker kid! then they started testosterone for 2 and a half yrs before finishing their transition. theyre also super lucky bc they didnt need loads of vocal training to get their deeper voice

- naturally broader shoulders and narrow hips that really helped them with their dysphoria when they were younger

- Hange has a very very eccentric gender expression with odd jewelry and a lot of brown/gold tones

- flag hoarder; they dont really hang up flags in their home since theyre flammable and generally pesky to put up but they have many badges and patches (i hc that hange likes collecting random stuff, like a magpie). their favourite flags currently are the queer flag, genderqueer flag, they/them lesbian flag and a variant of the T4T* flag. YES they do have a mental encyclopedia of obscure lgbt flags and the girls who get it, get it

- makes strap on jokes more than ymir and they're not funny

★ AMAB Hange;

- doesnt take estrogen and generally isnt super dysphoric about their body. most of their physical dysphoria is about their voice.

- would identify as non dysphoric but they've definitely got social dysphoria** (though theyd argue it isnt super debilitating)

- naturally rounder shoulders and a slimmer waist, it helps on more feminine days (imagine them in a corset hh-)

- generally quite muscular with a little tummy and arm chub. just looking at them they look rather healthy but we all know hange eats like a raccoon

- they dont have a super big/prominent chest so every so often they'll wear a padded bra or cleavage enhancers

- Hanges expression is more 60s/70s inspired. kinda like a sexy unhinged science professor aesthetic

- Hange likes keeping their nails long but they get chipped and grimy and Levi things its gross lmao

- they definitely have a cute desk flag that maybe Moblit made for them (that was specifically curated to be fire retardant and easily cleaned)

- makes way more strap on jokes and they're actually kinda funny but nobody will admit it except for connie (because he isnt aware of the dangers of stroking Hanges ego)

°

°

°

terminology + tips under the cut!

* = T4T stands for Trans4Trans aka trans people who prefer to or exclusively date (or are attracted to) other fellow trans people based on the commonality of trans experience

** = social dysphoria is dysphoria (distress/discomfort) triggered by not being perceived as your gender. for example, Hange may become dysphoric when people assume they are a man/woman or refer to them with binary pronouns.

TIPS; when writing for non binary people, please be conscious that you are representing a real community and identity in your writing.

((you can always google 'how to write a trans/non binary character' and get some ideas))

non binary people are NOT MEN OR WOMEN. thats the whole point. so try to write them with either both feminine or masculine traits for the sake of retaining gender ambiguity OR you can give them brand new traits that are separate from gender stereotypes.

its really transphobic and regressive when people write us and treat us like we're just men/women who are a little different. that completely dismisses our identities, experience and history. theres a big stereotype that nb people are all white afab/female people and that is also wrong. you dont have to be born or look a certain way to be non binary and trans people exist in all cultures and walks of life.

there is no trans experience that is exactly the same and as writers we need to be mindful and respectful of the people we are potentially empowering or hurting.

if you want to get an accurate picture of what being trans/non binary is like, literally just reach out to a trans/nb person and ask if they want to give you their input! this is especially helpful if you want to write about any struggles that a trans/nb character is facing.

for the record my dms are open for any questions, explanations or clarifications and i will try my best :) if you dont know any trans people and want to write about them you can also message me, im happy to provide any insight!

[peralta-guaranteed]

NSFT hc lol

babeeeh I've literally got one of those in my drafts for weeks now, guess it's time to dust it off!

gonna be a goodie-two-shows-tumblr and put it under a read more for all those scandalised eyes (I understand, you came here for the cute kid fic, you don't need this)

- I think it’s fairly canon-established that they have their whole own level of kink going and are OWNING it

- I also don’t think I need to mention the fanon/fanfic-established facts that they both love Amy being on top and Jake being slightly obsessed with going down on her (is there a single smut-fic that doesn't include at least one of these? not that I'm complaining)

- Jake is 100% a sub that can get bossy if his lady wants that. He’s always had a thing for strong-headed, more dominant women but he had no idea how deep that kink runs until he got with Amy

- Amy on the other hand is a switch who always thought she was more on the submissive side in bed until she got to boss Jake around and absolutely loved it and how confident it (and he) made her feel

- yes Amy absolutely has a sex binder. She thought she’d hid it pretty well because that’s not really something you share early on in the relationship (or ever, tbh, in her opinion) but then one day when she’s home alone and decides to add some new info from their last few dates (along with some interesting ideas for future dates) she sees notes scrawled in the margins that are definitely not her handwriting, and also she would never use ‘hellz yeah!!!’ as a comment

- it actually takes Jake quite a while to get used to the idea that Amy finds him attractive? In a sexual way? Like he knows he’s not bad-looking, but he’s also always had to flirt hard and put on a bit of a show to impress other women, so to see Amy get excited and actually aroused from him just... being him? is strange? He will notice her ogling him while he’s getting out of the shower, or biting her lip looking at his arms and shoulders while he’s mussing up his hair, and genuinely doesn’t understand what’s going on for a while until she jumps him. Once he understands it all though it's an unbelievable confidence boost - not in the ego-'he thinks he's so great'-way, but rather in a 'so that's what it feels like to be desired? I'm actually someone who can be wanted like that?' way. Honestly I could write a whole character-study-fic about Jake's hidden insecurities that way

- it’s kind of close to the same the other way round - while Amy knows she’s attractive, and she actually feels pretty confident in bed especially with him, the way he just seems utterly dumbstruck and awed when looking at her, how he'll constantly tell her how unbelievably hot she is and how much he wants her, is a lot to take in. It takes courage to get over her own fears and insecurities and put on a bit of a seductive show sometimes but the way he reacts definitely makes her want to do it more.

- Amy definitely does some research into pegging after THAT jimmy jab event. Not gonna lie they both end up loving it. (Amy also lowkey loves the way he moves a bit more carefully and tender the next day like a reminder, and needless to say Jake’s ever so slight pain kink definitely loves that too)

- also yes definitely the pain kink for Jake, that's canon isn't it? bitemarks and scratches and slighty-too-tight bindings. Overstimulation and taking it just that tiny step further than necessary. Amy's gotten so good at knowing just exactly where his limits are and pushing only an inch over them. But she also takes time to make sure he gets care and love after it all to come back down

- there is a lot of edging and teasing involved in their play because Jake needs to learn how to be more patient and hold himself back one way or another, and Amy very much enjoys the frustrated-yet-happy noises he makes

- she also enjoys the things he says, a lot, because Jake is a talker in bed just as much as he is in every day life, obviously. It’s mostly just praise and how much he loves her and how good it all is, but he absolutely has the filthiest mouth ever if she asks him to

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

So here’s the thing....

*Deep breath*

I’d like to say first and foremost, in case new followers shouldn’t be aware... All my characters belong to a story I have been writing since 2014, it’s a 200+ chapters main story, and an almost 40 chapters AU. Book length chapters. So yes, it’s a lot of words. A lot of time. Investment. Character development. I have explained a handful of times, at least, during my 5+ years on Tumblr, that although I’m the writer of the story, they feed me the words. More or less. Within few limits. I do have an overall idea of where I want the story to head, what I want for each character and so on, but in the end, they more or less run the show, and I’m just the vessel... holding the pen. As result, the story often takes twist and turns I never expected, and the outcome might be completely different from what I originally had in mind. This is how I prefer to write the story, and I’ll hardly ever interfere, unless it’s heading in a direction I can’t at all allow, such as a main character dying. Or something that otherwise would affect their lives way too negatively to bounce back from. Writing a story this way, letting my characters roam free, often leads to me having to write stuff I don’t agree with, or am downright uncomfortable with. But I’m okay with that. I like the challenge. It makes me grow as a writer and challenge me as a person. My believes, morals, my views and my heart. It also often results in sudden information getting thrown at me, surprises, let’s call it that... not always knowing full info on a character, as they develop in front of me, and sometimes things I didn’t yet know, will reveal themselves. This happened a couple weeks ago. I learned something dark about one of my main characters, and one of my top 3 personal favorites. Raven. Raven and his father, have never seen eye to eye. Roy has frankly always acted like he despises his son. Always favoring Raven’s brothers above him, barely able to speak to Raven without contempt shining through his words and tone. I never had a reason for this. Beside the fact that Raven is very much a rebel, and his dad is head authority of the McKinney clan. But I was hit with a sudden discovery few weeks ago. Turns out, Roy sold Raven, when Raven was just a very young adult. Possibly teen.... maybe even younger.... I was quite frankly so shocked I haven’t had the courage to delve further into it yet, and have only been writing other story parts since then. Essentially, Raven’s father sold him, to a distant uncle, in order to stay ahead in the McKinney clan, and still be the head of both the main castle in Ireland, and also the sister castle in Scotland. The uncle who bought Raven... took advantage of the situation... and Raven. For an unspeakable amount of time. Roy grew to recent himself for what he had done, and with that self-resentment, he started resenting his son as well, it was simply easier than feeling guilty about what had done. Over the years... centuries.... Roy often tried to get his son out of the binding contract, but to no use. Raven over time started blacking out, and completely erasing any sort of memory about the abuse, either through magic or simply denial. A way to cope. Now, one could say this part of my story only involves misery. However, something good came out of it. For days I have been trying to wrap my head around it all, and allow it to evolve into whatever it wants to evolve into, although I haven’t written anything yet. I started thinking, what good could possibly come out of this situation? And then it hit me. His name is Ciaran (pronouced Kee-ran), which means ‘little black one’... The McKinney’s have always chosen names that somewhat describes their kids, like Raven’s birth name is Brandubh, which means ‘little black raven’. He’s obviously “black”, and he can literally shapeshift into a raven. I wont sit here and ramble about the meaning of everyone else’s names for the next 20 minutes, it’s not of importance right now. Ciaran has black hair... yadda yadda... so... ‘little black one’. Ciaran is one of the most well hidden family secrets, I strongly feel he grew up far away from everyone else, or at the very least at the McKinney castle in Scotland. A castle Raven grew up in, but rarely visited after moving back home to Ireland, so he wouldn’t have come across him most likely, and if he did at some point, there’d probably have been at least a handful of spells involved, so neither he, nor Ciaran, would notice they were so closely related. And on a side note, yes, men can get pregnant in my story. Supernaturally though. So either from being supernatural, although that does have limits still, or through magic. Anyway, I’m assuming here, since again, I didn’t write anything down in my story yet, cause it’s still all very new and foggy to me, but Raven suddenly discovering about his past, will without a doubt lead him to either demand to know more from his father, or go digging himself. Which will soon enough result in Ciaran being brought into light. How he’s going to get introduced in my story, I haven’t decided yet, however, spending time with Ciaran, making him in CAS last night, and taking pics of him today, I already know enough about his character, to dare to assume, Ciaran walking into everyone’s lives, will look something along the line of:

So without further yippidy yap... say hi to ‘the little black one’.... and his sooper happy dad XD

Oh yes, he already enjoys his 3rd kid.

[raysreads]

Teen Wolf Character Scents

Okay this might sound weird, but I’ve been reading a lot of Teen Wolf fic lately and it always puts a heavy emphasis on what the character smells like. Because...werewolf senses and everyone has a natural scent. I personally love this so here are my headcanons for what each characters natural scent would be!!!!!

(I give reasons for why I went with those things but some of the reasons themselves are headcanons, and some just came to me and have no reason at all besides that fact that i love it that way)

So background info: I headcanon some scents are from birth, while some are added/change based on experiences, temperament and emotions. You have your own scent and it does its own thing, even when you’re human. Humans cant smell them since they aren’t necessarily real, they are more a smell supernaturals pick up that’s a cryptic reflection of ones personality.

Stiles: Gotta start with the main boi!!!! He smells like spicy chili peppers, honey and everything spicy. He is wild and loud and so so sharp. He uses cutting anger and snark and sarcasm as a defense mechanism, this reflects in a scent that burns your nose. But he cares and loves a lot and is super soft, hence the honey. If you focus on his scent too much your eyes water with the chili. When he gets angry he send tears down everyone’s faces and even reddens the cheeks and burns the tongues of the supernatural pack members in his anger, his scent becoming physical as his spark acts up.

Peter: He smells like cold. Like cold, and petrichor and mint toothpaste. He always has. He smells like the cold of ice, the cold you smell when you open a freezer in the cold isle of the grocery store and like Vick’s Vaporub but 10x as strong. As the left hand of the pack it was his job to kill, to eliminate threats, his job to bear all the blood on his hands, to have his hands permanently stained sticky red and his eyes glow blue, so that no one else in the pack has to live with the guilt of murder, even when justified. His first kill was at 8 years old and he would never forgive the fact that he had been given that burden. So he became unmovable ice and unending cold. With the thick smell of rain for the warmth he would always keep hidden.

Theo: His scent is that of fresh, right off the smoker, BBQ sauce-soaked ribs and apple juice. Its a scent he was born with, one that reflects the gooey warmth of his soul and his innocence before he was manipulated and tortured. His scent always throws people off since it usually reflects ones personality and he’s not a good person by any means, he is amoral and cruel; and such a warm, soft scent doesn’t make sense. But his soul (though no longer pure) would always hold his original innocence. The apple juice isn’t actually his scent, but his sisters, her heart such a part of him that his guilt manifested her soul in his scent. And if you focus hard enough, underneath all that you can find the sting of bleach. His time with the dread doctors (and the fact that he was surgically tortured into being a chimera) leaving part of his scent mangled and altered into the artificial tang of bleach. The fact that he forced his scent to remain mostly unchanged throughout his life (which was worse than hell on earth) is Very Very Impressive, even more so when in the beginning he wasn’t even supernatural.

Scott: Our ever-sweet true alpha. He smells like overly sweet pink and blue cotton candy and hot, buttered, movie theater popcorn. He’s literally sugar and spice and everything nice. His morals and warmth translating to the hot popcorn and his perpetual smiling and niceness coming though as cotton candy. He smells like fairgrounds and the laughter of children. Underneath all that he bears the subtle scent of rust,  a permanent reminder of his forced change to the supernatural and permanent resentment of the burden he must bear (and the guilt about that resentment)

Derek: He smells of Sandalwood, Patchouli, and Frankincense. He always smells like incense and spices, like the inside of a stereotypical fortune tellers shop. He becomes heat, warmth, and flame. Something that pulls at his soul since the fire. Something that is a comfort to the wolves around him. He also smells heavily of smoke (something that makes Peter unable to be in the same room as him for longer than 30 minutes unless forced) because of his never-ending guilt about his family, something that seared the event into his scent. When he’s angry (which is a lot) his scent gets stronger and the incense smell becomes extremely heady and makes his betas lethargic.

Lydia: She smells like metal, like your hands after handling handfuls of change. She smells like she bathed in pennies, her standoffish coldness bringing the bitter smell to her scent. Since she became a banshee she also smells strongly of spider lilies (also know as hell flowers), japans flower of death. You would think the contrast between bitter metal and floral scents, so strong you choke, would be bad but its actually strangely comforting. And while bitter its the only thing that can get Jackson to relax some days. The scent of the only person there for him for over a decade-and-a-half sometimes even more comforting than the scent of his boyfriend.

Isaac: His scent is of strong cologne even though he never wears any, he smells like he bathed in the Mahogany Teakwood candle from Bath and Body Works, or lived in an Abercrombie & Fitch for 50 years. He always had that smell, even as a child, but it just gets stronger the more confidence he gains. His childhood innocence and cleanliness of soul translates as a strong laundry soap smell. But hidden underneath there's an undertone of metal, plastic, and cold; that takes over his scent when he's scared and overwhelmes everything in a mile radius. It takes the Pack far too long to realize it smells like a freezer and metal chains.

Allison: She smells strongly of ozone and static (not rain though, never rain). Her anger and righteous fury making her scent like electricity and making the static-y-ness tingle in everyone's nose - sometimes making Scott sneeze. Nothing in her scent is pleasant or comforting to everyone's confusion. Its only when she feels negative emotions that she smells like roses and summer. Its like a warning but in reverse, the opposite of what it should be. Bad scents usually mean bad emotions or feelings or memories, and good scents mean good moods and positive things but for her its the opposite. Just like how she took the opposite path then what was laid out for her.

Jackson: He smells very very heavily of cherries, his scent so strong and sweet its like he took a bath in a hot tub filled with cherry cough medicine, chloraseptic cherry sore throat spray, cherry pie, cherry starburst, cherry Jell-O, and maraschino cherries. Its thick and sticky and strong enough to drown out the scent and stick for hours on anyone standing near him or touching him and it lingers on the Pack members even if they haven’t seen each other for years. Case-in-point: Jackson left for England after the kanima thing and Isaac left for France not long after. When Isaac came back 6 years later (2 years after Jackson came back) he still had the smell on him pretty strongly. Why cherries? No one knows. But its thick as hell and stronger than epoxy when it binds to things together forever. The Pack thinks it stems with his identity and abandonment issues, but once he claims you he wont let go, not even his scent. He is very self conscious and embarrassed about it so its never discussed, and he’s been friends with Danny for so long that his scent almost drowns out Danny’s own. 

Ethan: Ethan’s scent is subtle and barely there. He was the one who always stood in front of Aiden to protect them, and took the beatings when possible so his scent became as bland and barely-there as possible. The Pack can only smell his scent with intense focus and at least an hours meditation (unless you’re Aiden). He smells of freshly baked bread and homemade jam, comforting smells that easily calm Aiden down. In times of distress he smells of burnt toast, he scent twisting with negative memories. A reminder that all good things have eventually turned bad for him and his twin.

Aiden: Aiden on the other hand smells strongly like curry and lavender. An odd combination but one that speaks of his guarded- but angry, headstrong and stubborn- nature. The abuse left him angry and twitchy and paranoid, everything setting him off and his moods turning on a dime. His scent fluctuated wildly between spicy curry and calming lavender which indicated his mood and Ethan was the only one able to calm him down, doing so with a single touch between his shoulder blades where they merged.

Danny: Danny smells like he lived in a Eucalyptus oil factory for 50 years, the scent soothing and calm like he is. Its always the same and never changes, not even when his emotions do. It was concerning at first, since everyone else’s scents changed throughout the day, even when their mood didn't (the only other scent that barely changed was Peter’s but that was because the man hand an iron grip over his emotions, even in his scent. Which is super impressive). He was just that calm at all times, even when annoyed. The one time he got angry- and I mean really angry not just the pretenses he kept when ‘annoyed’ with Stiles who he more endeared with than anything- his scent overwhelmed the entire apartment complex ( the one Derek had bought out for his loft) with the horrible, strong, pungent scent of burnt rubber. No one angered him again.

But they did have a chat about his witch ancestry.

Erica: Her scent was that of a bonfire. A blazing bonfire, gasoline, and the smell of the world when it was so hot outside the air above the tar street shimmered. She was competitive, and fierce, and pure heat and burning. If she wanted something, she would take it she had always been that way, even when she was sick. And while her sickness may be gone she had a subtle distortion to her scent, one like poison, that made her always smell slightly sick. (Peter almost had a panic attack when he first met her because of her scent, he now never came within 10 feet of her).

Boyd: He smelled like a flower garden. He was so stoic that the floral scent took many by surprise. He had always smelled like soil and dirt, his down to earth personality manifesting as a calming and grounding scent. He also smelled like the ocean, like salt and brine, and waves. But that was all drowned out by the overwhelming smell of flowers, a scent that used to be his sisters, one that he subconsciously adopted after her death when he was still human. He empathized with Theo and would exchange heavy glances when the pack discussed their natural scents as a ‘pack bonding exercise’, they were both drowned in guilt for different reasons, but both over lost sisters. They never discussed it. That was all folks!!! Feel free to add on to this and/or use it as a fanfic reference!!! Do you agree??? What are your headcanons???

[magaprima]

Okay *cracks knuckles* Let’s talk about just how powerful Lilith is. I will be using some of her actual mythology as logic/background info, but primarily I will only be talking about what we canonically see and imply within the CAOS world. I’ll be using logic and actual outright examples. 

First, the logic: 

We gather from the show that the older and more experienced a witch or warlock is, the more powerful they are. A clear example of this is while Sabrina needs tools to banish a demon, Blackwood is able to banish with a simple command. We also see how Sabrina, after decades in stone, is more powerful, because even without practice, time has had its effect. Lilith, is older than every other witch on the show. She is the first witch. The FIRST witch. No one is older than her in witch world, and if we go off her mythology and what typically gets given as the time since Eden, she’s averaging about 6000 years old. I think we’ve had it confirmed that Zelda and Hilda are somwhere between 250 and 300, given they weren’t alive in 1693, but Hilda was apparently old enough to be off partying on the Thames in 1837, and we establish she was in England raising Ambrose, so she is a hell of a lot older than everyone, a hell of a lot more experienced and knows a hell of a lot more spells. So she’s powerful on that basis. 

Lilith is not just any witch, she is not someone who got powers by signing the Book of the Beast, she is a witch of her own making with no conditions. This we know from her mythology (she said the holy name, giving herself powers and the freedom to leave Eden), but it’s also confirmed in that we see in the passion play Lilith already had Stolas, her ‘familiar’, before she met the Dark Lord, and when Lucifer is draining everyone’s powers, he is unable to drain Lilith’s. Lilith stays at full witch capacity. So the fact her powers are not dependent on a fallen angel or God giving her those powers, but powers she’s claimed for herself, also make her very powerful, because her gifts come from herself and cannot be taken away. 

She is also, due to her time in Hell and her role in Hell, the Mother of Demons, and a demoness herself. As  she said to the Spellmans she is a witch, but she’s not only a witch. Being the Mother of Demons and/or a demoness, comes with powers in its own right, powers that aren’t witchy but are infernal. So she’s powerful in that she has extra magic going on, but also she has literally Mothered demons in Hell, which gives her a certain amount of power and agency over the realm, even if the Plague Kings don’t want to admit it and even if Sabrina wants to ignore that. Being the Mother of Demons doesn’t just give her authority, it gives her power. 

She was created by the False God from earth. Divine, celestial energy was breathed into her by a God in order to bring her to life, and she was made from earth, the most powerful, magical thing there is; the earth itself. The very origins of her creation add to her power. 

All of this means that, as much as Sabrina’s role as daughter of Lucifer does make her powerful, she is not as powerful as Lilith, she physically can’t be (even if the writers like to forget that sometimes). And that brings me to the canon examples.

The big one; restraining Satan. Sabrina tries to trap him in the Acheron but it fails and he breaks free. He shouts ‘I am the great Satan which no prison can contain!’ and storms towards Sabrian violently, and is brought to an abrupt stop by Lilith. She ‘contains’ him. She holds him there with just her own telekinetic power. No spells, no aids or potions; just her own unadulterated power. This is one of the few flashes we get in the show of Lilith’s undiluted strength, showing us just what she’s capable of. She also does it with confidence. She doesn’t reach out her hand in panic and hope it works, she knows her power will hold him because she shouts ‘Hold that nasty thought!’ very glibly as she pulls him to an abrupt stop. And then Satan strains against it, he fights her power so much in his desperation to get free, but HE CAN’T. The Dark Lord is fighting to get free,and all that’s holding him there is Lilith, yet he can’t free himself. Lilith admits she can’t restrain him for long, but she holds him there for several minutes and chooses to release him when Nick does the binding spell. We never actually see Lucifer break free, so who knows how long she’d be able to hold him. The fact she can do this canonically shows us she is more powerful than all the other characters, including Sabrina. 

She returns Sabrina’s powers to her. The only other people we’ve seen bestow powers on witches are The Dark Lord (a fallen angel. A celestial) and Hecate (a Goddess). This puts Lilith on a par with both of them. It also shows she has her own source of magic as I said above. We confirm in Part 3 that Lucifer’s powers come from him being an angel  and it’s his celestial energy that allow him to bestow powers on his witches. Lilith therefore has her own power source too which allowed her to return Sabrina’s powers to her. Even though what she returned to her was Satan’s powers (showing Lilith, while Lucifer was bound, also had power over his gifts too), it stands to reason that if she is able to do this she is also able to bestow her own powers. Only...no one thought to ask in Part 3. 

She resurrected Mary without a sacrifice. Resurrecting people without sacrifices, without the life-for-a-life rule has been shown to be the exclusive of beings such as Lucifer and Hecate and things such as the Cain Pit. The fact Lilith is able to do this, and very easily too, shows, yet again, that she is on a par with them. The fact the writers said, in a quote about part 4 ‘Zelda has turned to an even older Goddess than Lilith’, implies even the writers see Lilith as Goddess level in her powers. 

She sent a soul to Heaven with the flick of a hand and she wasn’t even Queen anymore when she did this. She doesn’t do a big spell, she doesn’t do a ritual, she doesn’t even make any effort; she simply flicked her hand and Jesse left hell and flew straight up to Heaven. 

Similarly, she was able to banish Beelzebub with a flick of the hand too (probably one of the reason he didn’t want her as Queen. Holding a grudge). Sabrina, we’ve seen, needed tools to banish demons, Blackwood had magical commands to do it, but Lilith doesn’t say a word. She just flicks her hand dismissively, and Beelzebub is banished back to Hell, not only confirming how powerful she is in general but showing she is more powerful than the Plague Kings.

Which leads onto the point of how they’d challenged her for the throne once before and she beat them back. She says, before Sabrina’s arrival, ‘we will not have our sovereignty challenged again’, meaning they challenged her and she defeated them. This would have been a display of both physical and political power. Yet, when Sabrina comes in, they suddenly start Regalia challenges (the implication being that if they’d made that challenge to Liltih they suspected there was too much risk of her winning. They felt more confident with Sabrina, and reasonably so, as without the help of Ambrose, Lilith and Lucifer she wouldn’t have found any of the items. And there’s no way Lilith would have just let him pick up Herod’s crown). The hordes of Hell know Lilith  is very powerful, they just didn’t like her being Queen. 

She summons the Greendale Thirteen pretty damn easily. That was a big summoning of thirteen long dead ghosts, and conjuring them to be solid enough for them to be able to interact with and touch the living, even starting fires and summonings of their own. Essentially, she did a temporary resurrection with a very simple blood spell. 

She enchanted a ring to hide Adam from the Dark Lord. This is a spell that gets overlook I think in showing Lilith’s power and knowledge. Lilith was able to enchant an object so that the wearer would be unseen by The Dark Lord himself. She was able to hide a freaking person from his sight. That not only requires a lot of power, but shows immense knowledge of magic; an unchallengable knowledge really. I mean the only reason Adam was ever found was that Stolas told on them. If not for him, the ring would have worked permanently which is one freaking impressive charm to make. 

Lucifer seems to believe she is the only one capable of performing the Ritual of Separation. I mean if anyone could do it, he could easily have gone to Nick, or any of the coven, since everyone was wandering about and didn’t seem to be entering a protective circle for a while. And if it’s because he’d taken away even their power to do rituals, there are many people in Hell that would technically be capabe, people who are very loyal to him. And then there’s other witches in the world, ones who still worship Satan, the list goes on. But I think it’s a case of Lilith being the only one who he can trust to do the Ritual correctly and successfully, but also she’s the only one with enough power to match his.

She siren songs the Dark Lord to sleep quite effortlessly, which again is immense power. Much like when she siren songed Sabrina and freaking STOPPED TIME. The woman has power over time too, which the show doesn’t make clear whether it’s also linked to her siren song or not, but either way, time manipulation is also in her repertoire of power. But yes, she siren songs the Dark Lord to sleep, and then wakes up only Blackwood. That requires immense skill and power over the mind and the subconscious, something much more precise and powerful than even the nightmares of her ‘daughter’ Batibat. 

Finally, in notes of immense power, she gives Blackwood the Mark of Cain. In the bible this is only ever given by God, that is the False God. We have Lilith, yet again, doing something we have only confirmed Gods doing, putting her yet again on a par with them.

And all this power is why I just don’t buy how Caliban managed to encase Lilith in stone. And even Lucifer for that matter. Or how they were gone at all. It just seemed a bit of ‘ignoring their power’ in order to allow Sabrina to ‘save’ the world on her own. 

[thekisforkeats]

A Song of Praise Upon Your Lips (Let all the Broken Pieces Shine, Chapter Two)

Info: The Magnus Archives, D&D AU. JonMartin in this chapter, more ships to be added. Rated T. Post-Canon. Jon is amab nb and uses they/them, Martin is a trans guy.

CWs: Darkness, falling, spiders, manipulation, webs, implied body horror, character death (mentioned), alternate realities, character injury, fire.

Summary: In which Martin thwarts the Web's plan for good and all (or so one hopes) through the power of poetry. (The poem is the first and last stanzas of Kahlil Gibran's "On Love," from The Prophet, published 1923.)

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

Previous Chapter

They are falling through endless darkness. Martin holds Jon close to him and wonders how much longer this will take. Will he be in this darkness forever? Would it be so bad if he was?

“Time to let go,” a voice whispers. Feminine, soft, almost motherly, but threaded through with something like malice. “He is lost to you. Time to come back to me, my little spiderling.”

“No,” Martin whispers into the darkness. “No, I won’t let go. One way or another, together. That’s what we said.”

He can hear irritation in the voice. “Where he goes, you cannot follow. Where you belong, he cannot exist. You made your choices long ago. You cannot undo them now.”

“I’m not letting you take him from me!” Martin shouts it this time, and tightens his hold on Jon’s body. “I don’t care if I die, I’m not letting go!”

“Silly, stubborn spiderling. You are mine. You have served my purpose, all these years, and served it well. Do you truly think it was any coincidence you came to be by the Archivist’s side? The Whispered One, that you called Beholding… the power that should have gone to the Lone Wolf, that you called Forsaken… they may have tried to claim you, but you have always been mine, little spiderling, however much you twist and turn and try to deny the truth of what you are.”

Martin can see the speaker in his mind, even if his eyes are shut: from the waist up, a woman with ebony skin and white hair, but from the waist down… a spider. It’s impossible, he knows it’s impossible, because she’s from a game. And yet, still, he knows her name, and he speaks it into the void:

“Lolth?!”

A soft chuckle. “Yes, spiderling. I am the one that set you in that world, set you on the path to meet the Archivist. I am the one who ensured you would connect with the power of the Spider there, a power that is mine even if she did not know that fact until she has finally come falling down through the void between realms. She will add to my power, and she will become me and I will become her, and together we will usurp the other gods that would keep us trapped. We will spread our Web across every realm and every sphere.”

The woman seems to hold out a hand to Martin. “Come, spiderling. It is time to come home to me. I am your true mother, and I will love you better than your mortal mother ever did.”

“No,” Martin whispers again, horrified. This can’t be real. This is a horrific dream. Lolth is a fictional being that he has always been alternately repulsed by and fascinated with. She is a deity from a roleplaying game that he had stopped playing years ago, though largely for lack of anyone who would play with him.

And yet, it makes a horrendously cruel sort of sense. The Mother of Puppets has always reminded him of Lolth, a little bit. He thinks of Annabelle Cane and her desire to fill Martin with spiders. He thinks of his own tendencies to manipulate, his own love of spiders, of webs, even of fiber arts, of tying things in knots to keep them where he wants them to be. Of the way he spoke to the tape recorders the same way he spoke to the spiders he ran into--as pets, almost. As sweet, cute things to be loved.

He has known, for a long time, that if the Lonely had not claimed him the Web might have. He’s had dreams of turning into a spider, dreams he woke from screaming. Even if he likes spiders, he doesn’t want to become one. Sometimes he thinks he went to Peter as much to escape the fate he saw in his dreams as anything else he’s told himself.

A part of him wants to take the offered hand. To let go of Jon, and move forward to his own destiny.

But they made a promise. One way or another, together. It makes the decision easy.

Martin swallows. “No,” he says more firmly, opening his eyes. Lolth is there, only a dim outline in the darkness, but he can see her, vaguely. “I will not go with you. I’ve made my choice, I saw my Domain, and it wasn’t full of spiders.”

Anger flashes in Lolth’s dark eyes. “Foolish boy. Do you think I can’t make you come with me?”

“I think…” Martin pulls Jon closer to him. “I think you can, sure, but I also think…” He gathers himself, takes a deep breath, then presses on, “I think if it were that easy, you’d have done it already instead of trying to make me come willingly.” He’s thinking faster than he ever has in his life. There were no powers of good in their world, no Hope or Courage or Love to balance the Fears. But if this truly is Lolth, and not just his brain giving form to the Web, then maybe there’s a chance. Maybe there are good powers to draw on, out here in the dark between realities.

Maybe, if he tries hard enough, he can get one of them to listen.

“I never would have served the Eye, or the Lonely, or the Web, if I’d had another choice,” Martin spits into the void. “I would serve Beauty. I would serve Truth. I would serve Love.” He swallows, glares at the darkness, at the form he can just barely make out as his eyes adjust. “And you know that, don’t you? Wherever we’re going… those things have power, and you want me to come to you before I get beyond your reach.”

Lolth scoffs. “You would leave me, and go back to the Protector? He will not take you back, not in that form.”

Martin grinds his teeth. “I don’t care who, or… what it is I serve, I just know that it isn’t you,” he growls.

Martin feels a warmth building in him, a heat, a flame. It’s lighting up the darkness, letting him see Jon’s lifeless body and the tapes both. It lets him see Lolth, hovering out there in the void, lets him see that the tapes are connected to her. If he lets go, she’ll get Jon. That’s what this is about, he realizes. Whether or not she wants him, she definitely wants Jon, and Martin is keeping her from her prize.

“You don’t care about me,” he whispers. “You just want Jon’s body, to fuel whatever ritual you’re trying to do.”

Lolth almost smirks. “I would prefer to have you both, but I will settle for the Archivist alone. We made him, my sister and I, which means that I made him, because she is becoming me even as we speak. You have resisted me in the past, but the Archivist…? He is already mine. Has always been mine. Will always be mine.”

Martin glares at the spider-woman. “I’m not going anywhere Jon doesn’t go, and since I’m not letting you have him… I guess you don’t get either of us.”

“And how, exactly, do you intend to stop me, spiderling?”

There’s a tug on the tapes, and Martin screams as Jon is half-wrenched out of his arms. He clings, desperately, grabbing at the tapes, screaming louder as they cut into his hands. “No! No! Please, not now, I can’t lose him now!”

“Too late, spiderling.” Lolth’s smile is cruel. “It was always too late.”

He has to do something. He has to stop this. The heat and warmth and light within him needs somewhere to go, but it can’t just come out through his hands. He needs words, that’s who he is, who he’s always been. But what words? What words would help here?

It’s not Keats that comes to him, because it’s never Keats that comes to him in the moments of pain and terror--Keats is for joy, and longing, and elegiac melancholy in the rain. It’s Kahlil Gibran, whose words sustained him through Jon’s coma and his mother’s death and working for Peter Lukas. A poem about love, about divine love. He speaks the words into the void like a prayer, because whatever he’s doing is as much a prayer and a wish as anything else.

When love beckons to you, follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

As he speaks, the fire grows. Not the cold fire of the Desolation but something warm and kind and loving. It fills him with joy, so that despite the nature of the words (For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning) his fear is banished and his terror soothed. His grip on the tapes surrounding Jon strengthens, and he begins to haul his lover back to him, away from the spider-woman.

Something like fear flickers in the goddess’ eyes. She says something, a negation, a denial, but Martin cannot hear her, because he is shouting now, stanza after stanza, the words and the prayer fueling the light and warmth within. He clutches Jon to his chest and grips the tape tightly.

He is intending to rip the tape binding Jon, to break the Web and free them both, but as he thinks of doing this, the flame within bursts out through his hand and burns through the tape surrounding Jon. The fire leaves both him and his lover untouched, but it consumes the tape. Martin can see the flame shooting off in every direction, unraveling the Web that Lolth had so carefully woven.

“No!” The goddess’ scream is so loud that Martin almost covers his ears, but that would mean letting go of Jon and that’s not happening. “No! I will not let you undo my work!” She lunges forward at them, to grab them both, or maybe just to try one last time to wrench Jon from Martin’s grasp.

Martin is surrounded by flame now, and he has a vague sense that his hair, long-since touched white by the Lonely, has abruptly shifted back to red and might actually just literally be fire right now. He holds out his hand, focusing not on Lolth but on the space around them. He has to keep them safe from her. He has reached the last stanza of the poem.

Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself. But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving; To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy; To return home at eventide with gratitude; And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

The darkness around them alights, a sphere of flame that surrounds and protects Martin and Jon both. Lolth hits the fire as she lunges, and screams again. Then she fades back into the blackness.

“She cannot protect you for long, spiderling,” Lolth hisses. “I will come for you. I will always come for you.”

And then she’s gone, and they’re falling, falling, falling. Endlessly and forever, falling into the void.

The fire around them fades, and they’re in the dark again. Martin thinks that maybe he used the last of his energy, but even if all he did was to stop the Web’s plan… maybe that’s enough, in the end.

He’s fading, his consciousness dimming. He’s barely aware of Jon’s body in his arms. He takes a moment to hold Jon close and kiss the dark skin of his lover’s brow, cold despite the flame that had surrounded them not long before.

“I love you, Jon,” Martin whispers, “and I’m never, ever letting you go. Never again.”

And then everything fades into blackness. If this is death, he thinks, it’s not so bad.

Next Chapter

[chronicas]

In your belladonna ghoul meta post you mention illegal and legal necromancy ( i think) do you already have rules established as to what makes it legal or not? And if those arent spoilers could. could you spare some info about that... please i would very much like to know what qualifies as legal necromancy.... do you send in a form...

necromancy covers most magic related to the dead that isn’t purely divination. in genesis “last goodbyes” hold a lot of cultural significance, so if someone you loved dies before you get the chance to say goodbye, depending on the circumstances you can hire a necromancer to summon their spirit. it’s a part of the cultural that i think about pretty often. necromancers also appear in court sometimes to bring deceased spirits as witness. and lots of things like that.

illegal necromancy would refer to anything involving the undead. however undead creatures like zombies and skeletons are actually legal to summon so long as the soul has already moved on to the afterlife because then they’re legally considered constructs, and not undead. but any acts of “defying death” are illegal. so resurrection and binding deceased souls to the world of the living isn’t allowed at all. ghouls fall under that category. however most punishable offense in necromancy is lichdom, since it is not only an act of defying death, but it also is a power grab. (there’s many more details on liches but i won’t derail this post to get into it lmao)

binding a soul to its body to animate it via necromancy also results in the soul being unable to move on for what can take thousands of years.

also you do have to have a permit to preform necromancy so yes there is paperwork involved. without the proper permits you can get in trouble with the high magic council or even with reapers.

salem is the only character in the main cast that has a necromancy permit.

[of-wrens-and-whirlwinds-blog]

Swings

Another commission for the lovely @auspiciousagape! This time from the view of their character Jayson! I hope you like it, friend! Commission info is here!

~

It was a very lovely summer night, and Jayson was in a bit of a bind.

Marcus had snuck out of the palace to spend the night with Jayson and his aunts—again. This was the third time in a month and Jayson was worried something was wrong. But he couldn’t just ask, now, could he? Not when any subtle question about the current state of the court made him flinch and change the subject in the wildest directions.

Jayson idly lifted his hand and scratched Marcus’s ear… then snatched his hand away as Marcus stirred and mumbled something about pizza in his sleep. A blush crept into Jayson’s cheeks, but Marcus wouldn’t see even if he was awake. His head was firmly planted on Jayson’s shoulder, and the young king himself was snuggled under Jayson’s arm. And since they had claimed the hammock for their star-gazing tonight, they were of necessity pressed together so tightly that it felt like they were melting into each other. Not an unpleasant feeling, with a cool breeze sighing past and the hammock gently rocking. But, well…

Jayson tilted his head back and stared at the moon. He was enjoying Marcus’s touch a little too much tonight. Maybe his friend wouldn’t remember this in the morning.

Friend. When would he get over the little pang of sadness that hit every time he remembered he was Marcus’s friend and nothing else? He hoped it would be soon.

Marcus smelled nice. Like warm earth and honey.

Jayson tried to remember when he’d first started having a crush on his friend. It was when they were young, certainly—back when they were both shy and nervous and really just wanted someone to be close to. But he couldn’t really even pinpoint a specific year. It had just… happened. And then Rosalia had very kindly pointed out that he was being a doofus again with his own feelings.

He smiled crookedly, remembering the brief moment of panic before he’d accepted it. Of course. Of course this flush of warmth and joy was particular to Marcus in a way other than dear friendship. An empath surrounded by love and care every day, and he couldn’t figure himself out.

His hand rose again without his knowledge, petting Marcus’s head and scratching his ear. Marcus let out a sleepy purring sigh and shifted to press closer. Jayson’s heart stuttered, but he reassured himself it was just instinct. It didn’t mean anything. They were friends. No more, no less.

~

“A pox on the chamberlain and his ilk,” Marcus muttered, slumping in his chair next to Jayson’s at the breakfast table. Jayson ladled oatmeal into a bowl and passed it to him.

“Eat, you need your strength. What’d he do this time?” Jayson asked, starting on his own oatmeal.

Marcus groaned and rubbed his face with both hands. “He wants me to have more footmen. More! Four is terrifying enough, why do I need more?” He dropped his hands and perked up, looking at Jayson hopefully. “Hey, Jay, can you send a pox to him?” he asked eagerly.

Jayson shoved his shoulder gently. “Healers can’t breed sickness,” he retorted, ignoring the little flush of warmth at the nickname. “And even if I could, I wouldn’t. He’s a fusspot but he doesn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Hmph.” But Marcus didn’t insist, just started eating.

Aunt Celeste reigned over the breakfast table while Aunt Lydia bolted her food and hurried out with a mishmash of words that were probably meant to be a goodbye. She was late to her shift for once and while Aunt Celeste seemed concerned, Jayson understood the need to be to work on time. Even five minutes could make a difference for someone in need.

Marcus watched Aunt Lydia go with longing. “She’s lucky she likes her job,” he muttered enviously, then darted a frightened look at Aunt Celeste, who just frowned at him.

“Hurry up and finish so I can walk you back to the palace,” Jayson said firmly. Marcus scowled but obeyed.

~

Sometimes the little moments annoyed Jayson. When he’d look at Marcus and the light would be on him in a certain way and his ears would be at an angle and his face would be cheerful or thoughtful or stormy or sad, and Jayson would get a little pang of longing. Someday, he’d tell himself, and then have to squash that thought before it got in the way and made him say something stupid.

Sometimes the little moments were so absolutely precious to him, usually when Marcus smiled at him, yellow-gold eyes shining as he watched Jayson heal or talk to his cat or start singing whatever song was in his head. There would be this bloom of warmth in Jayson’s chest and he’d have to stop and take a breather and smile back.

Someday, the voice in the back of his head whispered wistfully. Someday, I’ll tell him.

But that just wasn’t practical. And what if Marcus was targeted by more bigotry, or even actual subtle revolt within the court?

And Marcus seemed to be getting more and more agitated. One minute he’d be practically snuggling with Jayson as they laid on a blanket and watched the stars, the next he’d be wriggling away and pretending to find a different angle to look at the sky. Jayson began to worry Marcus could sense Jayson’s emotions, because the stepping (or wriggling) away always came after a slow bloom of warmth and love that left Jayson breathless. It was… upsetting.

Sometimes he’d feel that bloom while Marcus wasn’t looking, and when Marcus turned to him, Jayson had to avert his eyes because he couldn’t really think of an excuse for staring at his best friend with a small, sad, hopeful smile.

Rosalia said he was being an idiot.

“Just tell him or something,” she ordered in exasperation as they wandered a local arboreal garden. “You’re getting annoying with the way you look at him like a lovesick puppy until he turns around.”

“I’m not that bad,” Jayson objected, feeling his ears flatten in shame.

“You are, though.”

Moth, surprisingly, was the next person to say something.

“You know Marcus likes you back,” she said softly while they were folding linens in the House’s laundry room.

Jayson jumped, then hurried to gather the sheet he’d just dropped. “No he doesn’t,” he replied, too flustered to ask how she knew Jayson loved Marcus at all.

“Then why does he give you presents all the time and hang out with you?”

“He’s my best friend.” He said it firmly, but there was a hint of unhappiness in his tone. He’d been trying so hard to convince himself that all of Marcus’s little kindnesses were just his usual sweetness, the kind that he showed everyone—but now Moth had planted the seed of doubt.

No, surely not.

Jayson continued to visit Marcus, despite the glares and sweet-toned insults from the courtiers and even some of the servants, because he just couldn’t stay away. The pure giddiness he felt seeing Marcus grin at him in relief after a long day of being king was something he just couldn’t get enough of. Sometimes it felt like there were two tones to it; a yellow tone and a brown tone. But surely that was silly. Surely Jayson was the only one feeling giddy every time they smiled at each other.

The first week where Jayson was busy with a flu outbreak that was being strictly monitored by hospitals and Houses alike, he was fine, though he did miss his friends outside the House, Marcus included. But as the outbreak continued, and he, as the healer most needed for the worst affected, was kept at the House to make sure he was on call and not contagious, the strain of staring at the same walls every day and only getting to wave to people not busy with this outbreak started to tell. He was never snappish or rude, but his mind wandered more and more easily, and distressingly often, he found himself longing to walk through the markets with Marcus. Maybe hold hands. Marcus didn’t mind walking arm in arm; maybe hand-holding would be okay too.

But there was work, and he was needed, and his frustration with the persistence of this illness kept mounting.

Finally, new cases were no longer coming in, and the first to fall ill were healthy enough to leave. Jayson cast small, slow healings on each of them, to make sure they would stay strong enough for the next few days for the last dregs of illness to leave them. He never missed their relief, their gratefulness, even when some scowled and claimed they didn’t need it. Proud, most of them, too proud to admit they were still in recovery. But they were safe now.

Jayson grew tired as well as frustrated, and finally the head Healer told him to go to his room and sleep for as long as he could, and eat as much as he could, to rest and replenish. Jayson protested, but he was still only a junior Healer, so he bowed to the head Healer’s wisdom and went to lie down. He expected to lay awake for an hour or more. Instead he fell asleep in five minutes, and slept for the whole night.

When the last patient was cleared, he rejoiced—until he realized he now had a backup of other patients. Damn it.

Marcus visited him at the House five days after the last flu patient was discharged, carrying a takeout box of…

“Squid rice!” Jayson gasped, delighted, and jumped up from the bench he’d been resting on. “Marcus you are a live-saver!”

Marcus blushed and grinned. “Least I could do,” he demurred, and returned Jayson’s enthusiastic hug just as fiercely.

They settled on an out-of-the-way bench in a hall down by the linen closets for the long-term care patients, and Jayson attacked his meal with glee, while Marcus sipped a juice box. Jayson had barely been allowed some toast and an apple that morning for breakfast; an early lunch of his favorite savory food was an absolute joy. He hummed happily to himself and leaned on Marcus, who leaned back. Marcus still smelled like earth and honey.

“Thanks for this,” Jayson said, when he was halfway done and already mourning the end. “I didn’t get much breakfast.”

“You should eat more,” Marcus muttered, poking Jayson’s side. “You’re too thin.”

Jayson laughed and leaned his head against Marcus’s. The warmth was so intense he thought he might choke on it, but it felt just as good as a full stomach and a full sleep, so he didn’t care. “I’ve always been this thin, Marcus.”

“Hmph. Eat your rice.” Was Marcus flustered? Jayson couldn’t tell. He took another deep breath of Marcus’s scent, subtly, and sat up straight again to continue eating.

When he was done, they just sat together. Somehow Jayson’s arm ended up around Marcus’s shoulders, and Marcus was snuggled against him again.

“Remind me to bring you your birthday present next week,” Marcus murmured. “I had it made special so it’ll be late, but I hope you’ll like it.”

“If it’s from you, it’s certain I will,” Jayson replied with a chuckle, squeezing Marcus’s shoulders gently. This felt so nice. Holding him. Sitting quietly and holding him and feeling the two-tone warmth and giddiness. He didn’t really want this moment to end, not for a long time. It was… nice.

I’m in love with you, he wanted to say. Marcus, I’m in love with you and I understand if you want to stop being friends but I’d like to stay by your side. I love you so much.

Instead, Jayson said softly, “Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?”

Elation filled him as Marcus pressed closer and said happily, “Yes, absolutely! I would love that, Jay.”

Jayson closed his eyes to better savor the rush of warmth. Yes. He could handle not saying anything. As long as they could remain close, that was all he needed.

[boxboysandotherwhump]

11 15 20 for the writer asks??? ☺️

@deluxewhump this was a ton of fun to answer thank you <3

11. What’s the easiest character for you to write?

I think that would be Amal because he started out as a self-insert, while I played with the hypothetical scenario of how I and my social environment would react to having a boxboy thrown into the mix. (He ended up way more composed, capable and cool than me tho and actually got his own personality and background now. But I couldn’t stop myself from slapping all my health issues and some trauma onto him xD)

 15. What’s the most difficult thing for you to write?

Uff there are a few things I really struggle with. (That I’ll have to tackle at nanowrimo, so whish me luck)

The first thing would be fight scenes, for sure. It’s so hard to find the balance between detail and action and the perfect pacing to make everything flow. (I have already taken several pages of notes about this. I feel NOT prepared!)

The second thing would be smart, witty people. Not even book smart people who throw fancy words left and right but the planning and cunning sort of person who’s always a few steps ahead of everything, with at least three backup plans, for their first plan. (I often take things at face value and need time and a calming environment to think things through or react to happenings, so I often feel a bit lacking in the witty, quick thinker department. Maybe that feeling comes partly from some former ‘friends’ of mine who loved to overwhelm me with information to win their heated discussion session. But I sometimes don’t feel too smart.)

 20. Tell us a cool fact about one of your works or your characters.

Uuuui cool fact time is info-dump time so be prepared :D <3

The project I’m tackling for this nanowrimo is something I started working on nearly four years ago and it all began with a character design class in my school.

My brain just never really stopped developing this story and I took it with me into the following year’s class. We should make ‘art-books’ aka artsy books we could fill with whatever, so I decided to draw the first chapter of the story as a comic and print and bind it.

I had a ton of fun doing it, even tho the art is a catastrophe in retrospect. I still love looking at it though, because it shows me how much I have improved as an artist and storyteller over the last years <3

The whole project expanded onto 8 overstuffed folders, several mood boards here on tumblr, and a nearly completely filled sketchbook with concept art and world building stuff in it.

The notes on the plot structure fill one folder alone. (also I can’t help but cringe while looking through the first plot drafts and have to probably revisit a lot.) Lord help me!

all this are only really bullet point like plot notes.They just cover a lot of story....

this is the rest, with characters and places and world building stuff. seriously my brain kinda exploded with this.

[fandom-star]

Transgender Pride Month Challenge

So, I'm an admin on a trans meme/info account on Instagram, and one of the guys on there sent this to our chat, so I thought I'd do it on here.

1. My name is Elliott or Ell. I am asexual and bi/panromantic (both fit me so I use both) and I am a transmasculine non-binary person.

2. The only proper coming out I've had was with my mum. I don't feel like putting it here, it's somewhere on my blog. Most of the time I've either given my friends my Tumblr knowing they'd figure it out or I've just dropped a thousand hints in group chats! I dunno, I just prefer coming out like that with people I know will be okay with it.

3. I've probably always had an idea, at least since I was about 8, but after the age of 10 I kind of went into a fair bit of denial and threw myself into being a fangirl. I eventually realised I should look into it in May 2018, when I first identified as a demigirl.

4. I am not on hormones. It's probably something I'll look into doing maybe in my mid twenties for half a year, maybe a year, to get the extent of the effects that I want, but I don't think I'd stay on for much more than a year.

5. My support system is mostly my friends. 

6. My chest, my deadname (mostly seeing it written), sometimes my voice, sometimes my height.

7. When I decided to change my name (July 2018 when I was exploring the possibility of being a trans guy) the one thing I knew was that I wanted to still be able to feasibly use the nickname Ell. So I basically looked around online for names with that sound in them. I ended up with about five or six and wrote down the pros and cons of them all. The only con on the name Elliott was that there was a guy in my form class with the same name (Elliot), whereas the others usually had about two. So I chose Elliott.

8. I haven't had much of a transition journey. I had my hair cut short in July 2018. Had my first irl coming out in September 2018 as non-binary to a friend who figured it out. July 2019 I changed my name. July and August 2019 I came out to my mum (if you followed me then you'll know what that story is and why it was over two months). November 2019 I went to a comic con with my friends which was my first time being openly non-binary in public, and I also bought my first pronoun badge there. Later in the month, my mum bought me a pronoun badge. December 2019 my best friend bought me my first binder. And some point before September 2020 I will have come out on my personal Instagram.

9. I don't think I have any regrets. I feel like I shouldn't have any, because everything I have done has brought me here, and I'm happy where I am. Maybe I regret backing out of coming out on Instagram last month, because I was gonna try coming out on 1st of July, but with everything happening I felt like it was a really inappropriate time.

10. My binder is a blue half tank from GC2B. His name is Robbie. I can't be bothered to take a photo!

11. My definite transition goals are to legally change my name and gender (but only when the UK legally recognises non-binary people, until then imma confuse people by having a masculine legal name but being legally recognised as female!) and have a chest reduction. As I said earlier, I'm definitely considering testosterone, but the two effects I definitely want from it are facial hair and a deeper voice, both of which I could probably achieve to an extent without the involvement of T. (I basically have the ability to grow a beard naturally, but I never have because mum's worried about me being bullied or whatever if it gets too much.)

14. I am single and have never been in a relationship. I know, I know, the shock and the horror of a 16 year old having never been in a relationship, but I'm permanently anxious about everything, and I don't develop crushes very often and the last two I've had have been on friends, one of which doesn't live near me and I've never met in person, so.... Yeah, and that means I can't really say whether people knowing I'm trans or not has had any difference in them being attracted to me.

15. Obviously, I'm not completely out right now, but when I do come out I will be quite open about it. There's no real way to be stealth as a non-binary person, so that's not really a possibility. Even on the trans masc side of things, I don't think I'd ever be able to be stealth nor do I really want to be. For one, my transition plans don't exactly allow for it particularly, but also, while being referred to as male is highly preferable to being referred to as female, if I can have control over it, I won't be seen as strictly either.

16. I think I stand with the majority when I say that the only concern I can think of around transitioning is transphobia. Especially with my classmates, because while some of them are amazing (hello the whole five of you here) there's a lot of casual transphobia and explicit mockery of non-binary people at my school. It's one of the reasons I really hope our pride group continues when I start back at Sixth Form in September, because I feel like we could do a lot to combat that.

17. I mean, I guess I basically went over fear of rejection in 16, but I guess I could extend on that by explaining why I don't really mention my dad in regards to all this. Basically, I haven't come out to him about anything regarding my queer identity. This isn't necessarily because of him being explicitly homophobic or transphobic (he's never said anything homophobic ever and seemingly supports my going to pride events), it's mostly because our relationship is somewhat distant. We don't have an awful lot to do with each other outside of sharing interests. And he tends to be averse to anything "new". So, yes, I fear that if I came out to my father about being non-binary he would react by either ignoring it or me or not believing me.

20. September 2016 vs Today, June 2020

21. Something I'm most proud of relating to being trans... ooh! Probably the time I went out for lunch with my mum and my granny (who is basically deaf) and being called "sir" and "young man" by two different waiters while mum went to the toilet. The reason that's such an amazing moment for me is because I was feeling extremely dysphoric about how long my hair was getting, so I wasn't even making any attempt to look at all masculine. 

22. Things that make me euphoric are binding, people saying my name, listening to recordings of my voice (a lot of the time it sounds a lot more androgynous than I expect) and seeing photos of myself in cosplay.

23. Music. Very generic! Um... I have a Spotify playlist of songs to listen to when I feel dysphoric. Speaking of Spotify playlists, most of them are based on ships or characters. My username is seltudoor. I have a rather large record collection and an old record player/radio/cassette player that used to be my dad's that I think is from the 80s. Everything else you know! Classic rock, Sinatra and all that.

24. Freddie Mercury is the love of my life (HA!) and my role model. I have put into words why somewhere on my music blog, but I can't exactly remember. It goes a bit deeper than that he wasn't afraid to be true to himself. I also have an entire post about my trans role model Lou Sullivan that I made last June. In short, he was the first trans man to medically transition as an openly gay man who was also a badass, though I mainly say that because towards the end of his life (he died from AIDS complications) he wrote that, although the medical system didn't recognise him as a gay man, it seemed as though he was going to die like one.

25. Weirdest fact about me. Hmm... not sure I have any weird facts. My bookshelf organisation has two aspects to it that I don't think I've seen anyone else have. I group them by genre and order them by publication date from earliest to latest.

26. Things that cross my mind a lot. The fact that I should really be doing some writing instead of reading another fanfiction or watching another YouTube video that spoils most of Merlin for me. I don't know really.

27. You can win my heart by having a presence that makes me feel like I can happy stim in front of you whilst we watch something together, by accepting the fact that you will probably come second to my fandoms/obsessions a lot of the time, by allowing me to be touchy and clingy at random moments for often a long period of time, by not judging that I can't do "normal everyday things" and helping me with them and by being weird. 

28. My mum, @maestrowave​, @in3ffable-husbands​, @fandom-0bsession​ and everyone else in my active group chats on Instagram, @britpop-bowie​, @esperata​ and some other people.

29. I don't know what I'm most scared of. 

30. I think I'm mostly happy. I have great friends, my education is probably headed in a direction that will allow me to progress into an industry I've wanted to work in since I was 9 and in two years' time I will hopefully be at uni and able to experiment with my transition without worrying about what my parents think.

[precuredaily]

Precure Day 164

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 16 - “Komachi Abandons Being a Novelist!?” Date watched: 8 December 2019 Original air date: 20 May 2007 Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/5aTOPye Transformation Gallery: https://imgur.com/a/6k6SzS0 Project info and master list of posts: http://tinyurl.com/PCDabout

honestly this is true

Oh Nuts, what have you done? You’ve gone and hurt Komachi’s feelings with your bluntness and now all the other girls are upset at you. Meanwhile, Despariah has started making moves in Nightmare. How wil this end for our heroines?

The Plot

Komachi shares a draft of her novel, Pirate Hurricane with the other girls, and they all love it. Coco suggests she have Nuts read it, because he’s a voracious reader and might offer some good feedback. However, he returns and says he doesn’t understand what she was trying to say with the story and if the author has to explain the meaning, then it’s not very good. Okay he actually says “It’s worthless as a book.” Harsh. This upsets Komachi and she leaves for the day, while the other four scold Nuts for his rudeness. He maintains that he didn’t do anything wrong by giving his asked-for opinion, and feels no need to apologize. However, Coco can tell that he’s angry at himself for hurting her and wants to make amends.

Over in Nightmare HQ, a meeting between Bunbee, Arachnea, and Kawarino gets interrupted by Despariah herself, making her first full appearance:

She explains that the Palmier Kingdom should be in despair, but they cling to hope because of the Dream Collet, so they need to crush Precure, retrieve the collet, plunge the kingdom into despair, and then she will be satisfied.

The next day, Nuts receives a visitor at his shop: a tall girl riding a motorcycle who looks like an older Komachi. This is Akimoto Madoka and she has come to deliver some mamedaifuku from their shop at the behest of her younger sister, Komachi. Some banter between him and the other girls clues Madoka into what’s going on, and she takes Nuts’s side, explaining that Komachi is the type to sulk after having her feelings hurt, and that if she can’t handle this level of criticism, she won’t make it as an author. Nozomi, Karen, Rin, and Urara take objection to this, insisting that she’s really talented, can improve her writing with hard work and practice, that she resembles the main character in her story who never gives up, and that she can pull through because her feelings are that strong. Madoka says she’ll pass that encouragement on, but Nuts asks to go see her in person, so she brings him to the Akimoto residence and summons her sister.

Their reunion is awkward and Komachi berates her own work and herself for daring to feel happy about it. Nuts tries to encourage her by saying “Are your dreams so worthless that you’d sell them away for nothing!?” which is not a particularly helpful statement. The other four girls emerge from the bush they were hiding in to chew out Nuts again, and he tries to explain that he’s not mad at her, but before he can explain himself, they all get sucked into the pages of Komachi’s manuscript. They awaken on the deck of the pirate ship in the story, as Arachnea taunts that they’re all going to drown at sea and it will be an unhappy ending. She creates a Kowaina out of the ship’s mast and rigging, and the girls transform. However, the monster is very fast and manages to tie them up in ropes and thrash them around, flinging them into walls and floors and even the water. Mint blames herself for creating this world, but Nuts says she should be angry at being used, and that nothing will change if she just blames herself. He reiterates that she’ll improve at writing if she keeps practicing. Arachnea isn’t interested in this conversation and the monster whips around again, causing Nuts to drop the Dream Collet. He hurries to retrieve it but Arachnea lunges towards him at breakneck speed. It doesn’t look good... until Mint jumps in and retrieves him at the last second!

She insists that her story is not a tragedy and she determines what the ending is! She blocks Arachnea and the Kowaina with Mint Protection, Dream kicks at her while Lemonade uses Lemonade Flash to distract her, Rouge binds the Kowaina in its own ropes, and Aqua uses Aqua Stream to destroy the monster! Arachnea beats a retreat while muttering that the story is lame.

When they return to Komachi’s house, Nuts tells her that her story has lots of room for improvement, but he likes the main character, finds the idea good, and says that she can bring out the story’s potential if she keeps polishing it. Komachi vows to rewrite her story and invites Nuts to read her next draft.

The Analysis

The core of this episode is about how to deliver and respond to criticism. Nuts may be well-meaning in his remarks but his tone is very curt and tactless. Komachi takes his comments deeply personally and feels that she is a failure as an author. The reality is that, as an aspiring author, Komachi needs to get used to criticism, and that critique of a work isn’t inherently an outright condemnation of the work or the author. Since this is evidently her first attempt at writing a more serious work than a school essay, it’s inevitable that there are going to be a lot of problems structurally, narratively, in the pacing, tone, etc. Her peers all find her work to be good, because they’re not used to picking apart more long-form and complicated stories, but their praise makes her overconfident, and that’s when Nuts comes along and tears her down. I can completely understand why she’s hurt. I know I’ve poured my heart out in writing before only for it to come back marked up to hell and have lots of comments about flow, redundancy, and things like that. Having your hard work torn apart like that can hurt. But when done right, it’s a necessary part of helping you to improve your skills. At the end, Komachi realizes that her work has value and takes ownership of it, refusing to let Arachnea dictate the ending for her, which I love.

That’s another note: Nuts, at the start, was not being a very good critic. He basically said “It’s bad and I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish.” He didn’t give her much guidance on what to improve, and he didn’t really recognize this until confronted. He knew he hurt Komachi, he wanted to make amends, and during the climax he was able to say “If you keep practicing, you’ll get better at writing” and finally at the end he told her aspects of the story that he liked, and areas she could improve upon. That’s how you go about criticism, and that’s what I try to do in my reviews is to say “I didn’t like this because X and I think it would be better if Y.” Sometimes I may not have a better idea, but I’ll at least try to justify my dislike. Nuts has to fight his own visceral reactions in order to help Komachi improve as a writer, and that represents growth for him. He cares about people, he’s just bad at showing it, and Nuts and Komachi’s relationship through these two seasons will be another big one to explore and watch develop. I like his body language throughout. He keeps his arms crossed or in his pockets, he’s usually looking down, he knows he screwed up but he’s too proud to admit it. At the end when he finally talks to her and gives her positive feedback, he can’t look her in the eyes, because he’s still embarrassed, but his eyes are pointed up. It’s progress.

Next order of business is Akimoto Madoka. She looks a lot like her younger sister, which is to be expected, but she’s taller, has a fuller figure, has lighter colored hair, and her hairstyle is more practical than Komachi’s mullet, as Madoka just wears a typical bob cut.

Madoka has a very easy-going personality, really embodying the “cool older sibling” trope. She’s first introduced riding a motorcycle, and she instantly bonds with Nozomi and co, while being unphased by Nuts’s initial rudeness. She is very astute and quickly picks up on the strife between Nuts and Komachi. The only time she seems to get at all upset is when the gang is making a big commotion, and that’s because they all got sucked into Komachi’s story. She serves as a good foil for her somewhat timid sister, and knows how to push her in the right direction. She’s an enjoyable character who I’d like to see recur. I believe she makes a few subsequent appearances but I don’t remember how often, so we’ll experience that together.

Let’s change sides and talk about Nightmare! This is our first full look at Despariah, and wow is she something. She wears a white mask resembling a traditional Japanese doll, her long golden hair is styled in an edo fashion, shaped like a fan with four tendrils emerging from  gem on her forehead, and two side locks that come down to her waist. She wears a dark colored dress with a kimono collar, and huge shoulder pads. Her shoulders are extremely broad while her waist is very narrow, giving her inhuman proportions. She commands your attention and you can tell she’s in charge. There’s still some mystery to her appearance even here, because she’s only seen sitting at her desk, and most of the time she’s distorted by the effect of the screen she’s displayed on within Nightmare HQ.

brutal

I appreciate how she cut into the corporate bickering and explained, in no uncertain terms, where the problem was with their operation, despite having already conquered the Palmier Kingdom and supposedly plunging them into despair. Bunbee needs some hand-holding to follow her logic, but it comes down to defeating Precure and retrieving the Dream Collet so she can gain immortality and crush the hope of the rest of the world. She means business.

Arachnea’s plan this round was pretty inspired, especially compared to some of her lesser hits like luring the girls into the sewer for no reason. Sucking them all into Komachi’s book and using her own created world against her? That’s twisted! And she really hammers in the idea that she is in control of the narrative now and they’re all going to drown, trying to attack Komachi’s self esteem at the same time as literally attacking her. I respect that, in the sense that you respect a good villain plot, because it’s better than pure physical attacks. Also there’s a moment, where Arachnea sees the Dream Collet on the ground, that she LUNGES and it’s pretty incredible.

All of these elements combine to make another fantastic episode. I had forgotten just how strong the first half of Yes 5 was, and I’m really glad to be revisiting it for this project. They’re doing a good job at balancing out a lot more main characters than in previous shows, even if it’s at the cost of memorable supporting characters. However, there’s room for diversity in this franchise, so a different spin on the idea is fine. It’s working very well so far, after all!

Next tine on Precure Daily, Rin has a crush! Also it’s time to sell a Precure-branded toy that otherwise has absolutely nothing to do with the show. Look forward to it?

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 1 Kettei!

[lady-charinette]

Living Together Trope - Marichat Cop!Mari & Criminal!Chat

Living Together Trope: Forced Circumstances with Cop!Mari & Criminal!Chat from @apollosukulele

I have WAITED for this request! ^_^ 

Info: Characters will be a bit OOC, since I wrote it in a AUish universe I hope that’s okay @apollosukulele !

Rated: T

The Beast in Her Home Chapter 1

“Marinette, will you be alright?” Alya adjusted the bag slung over her shoulder and the documents of the case she held in her hand, warily watching the handcuffed man behind her friend, “Why don’t you just send him into one of the shared cells?” the news reporter glanced at the scowling but calm man, hands bound in cuffs, feet cuffed with a slightly longer chain to enable walking but not running. Even his neck was in a metallic collar, a restraining device.

She was surprised none of them were under electricity.  

The dark-haired woman smiled, only visible to her best friend, “He may be a dangerous criminal Alya, but he’s not an animal. Some of them already sleep on blankets on the floor, until we get more room it can’t be changed.” She paused, lastly packing the files of his case in her bag, “Besides, he’s too dangerous to be in the same room as them.” 

“Oh, but not dangerous enough for you?” Alya stared her friend down but Marinette shook her head, squeezing her shoulder meaningfully, “I’ll have you on speed dial, if you don’t pick up by the third ring, I’m coming over with a SWAT team.” The auburn haired woman fixed the criminal with a suspicious look, “And a shock stick.” 

The handcuffed man narrowed his eyes menacingly in return and Alya had to admit, with the black mask hiding his identity, the messy blond hair and the weirdly, sharp-looking teeth, he did look as fearsome as the media portrayed him to be. She tried not to look as fearful as she felt from the intense look. 

“Let’s go.” Marinette’s voice when talking to the criminal turned from soft to cutting in an instant, commanding respect and authority, the badge strapped to her belt only seemed to accentuate that further. Sometimes, Alya was jealous of how quickly and effectively her smaller friend could command respect in a room full of people. 

The reporter watched their backs as they exited, the chained man’s taller, bigger body nearly hiding all of her friend’s figure. 

She clutched the files in her hands tightly, a copy of the ones in Marinette’s bag. 

The name on top of the papers was printed in big, bold letters. 

Chat Noir

 The moment they neared the door of what he assumed was her private apartment, the woman quickened her pace slightly to reach it first and unlock it, punching in a code he couldn’t see and he briefly thought of commenting how it was dangerous to turn her back to him, but he bit his tongue.

He had no say nor power in the position he was currently in, the fact that the cop before him was fully aware of it aggravated his nerves. 

She opened the door and he hesitated, feet planted firmly on the small rug in front of the door, the words “Welcome!” on it made him think this little arrangement would be anything but. 

Her voice cut through his wandering mind like a blade, “If you prefer sleeping outside, that can be arranged.” He fixed the stupid cop with a glare, before shuffling his way inside as best as he could with his feet chained, trying to retain as much dignity as possible in his sorry state. 

He stood rigidly in the threshold of what appeared to be a living room she’d led him to, warily straining all his senses, listening to the woman drop her bag somewhere behind him before moving passed him towards the connected kitchen. 

She must’ve felt eyes on her, but didn’t react, producing something from her pocket before returning to his side. 

He watched her warily, resisting the urge to try and headbutt her and escape. What she did next caught him off guard. 

She went on her knees. 

His body tensed when he felt her hands on his feet, his teeth clenching in brief outrage until he noticed the pressure on his feet was gone. 

He looked down. 

She had the wretched cuffs in her hand, before moving up towards his face. He instinctively backed away, turning his head defiantly and she paused. 

He resisted the urge to glance at her when she spoke, “You must be wondering why I’m taking away your chains. Well, that’s only for your feet and neck, these stay on.” She tapped the ones binding his hands and he’d figured they would, “You may be a criminal, but you’re not an animal. No one will be treated as such in my house.” Her hands carefully moved towards his neck, movements slow to not alarm him. 

Her earlier words drifted back to him and he finally allowed himself to speak, “That wasn’t your sole reason for keeping me here, was it?” green eyes stubbornly refused to meet her bluebell ones. 

She snorted as she carefully undid the thick metal collar on his neck, soft fingers briefly brushing against his warm skin here and there, his body was as rigid as a wall, “That was the number one reason, I guess, but you’re right, I had another one too.” He waited patiently, feeling the pressure around his neck loosen finally, “You aren’t an ordinary criminal, you would finish them in a matter of minutes and cause a scene in the department and try to escape. Putting you into the same cell as the rest of the criminals would be a rookie mistake.”  

“But you’re no rookie.” Finally, he looked at her, toxic green eyes staring her down menacingly. 

Her soft bluebell ones rose to the challenge, “Neither are you.” 

They stayed like that in silence, gazes locked, a battle of wills silently communicated between them, neither of them willing to back down. 

His gaze narrowed when she rose an eyebrow, “I do hope you enjoy Chinese cooking.” 

She made her way back to her kitchen and he stood for several more minutes in the doorway of the living room, until the scent of the food, admittedly delicious, wafted towards him, he reluctantly walked towards the table and sat down at one of the chairs.

It sickened him to be reduced to a captive, but he would bide his time and plan his escape as soon as she fell asleep. 

His eyes were locked onto the twin guns holstered to her hips and she was well aware of that fact as she reheated their supper, glad to have made a larger portion.

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

After supper, he’d rooted himself to the couch, his temporary sleeping space for the supposed several weeks until his case was handled and done for, he didn’t even dare think of if it extended to months. Even if it did, he would’ve figured out a escape route by then no doubt. 

The woman was distracted now, she was typing something on her computer, information about him and his case scattered on the small chair next to her and the available space on her desk. His gaze flicked to the clock for what felt like the tenth time in the span of five minutes.

11:55pm

Did this woman sleep? Didn’t she have work tomorrow? Why was she still awake? He couldn’t do anything with her still up and about. 

“You must be pretty impatient looking at the clock all the time.” He scoffed, flexing his hands, his claw-tipped gloves aching to sink themselves into her skin. At least she’d left his mask and everything on, despite her colleague’s urgencies to remove them. Either way she’d figured his identity out, or respected his privacy, none of which he believed. Why she did what she did, he couldn’t figure out. His identity was secondary in this case, or so they thought, his identity could remain secret a little longer, their priority was to locate all the links in his criminal organization, which was a difficult, time consuming feat of itself. 

Having his identity wouldn’t reveal anything and since the woman caught on how important it was for him, she chose not to rip the mask off his face, despite her ability to do so. He didn’t want to admit it, but out of all the bluebottles in her department, he’d probably shoot her last. 

“Does the cat need to use the litter box?” her snarky remark cut through the silence airily. 

First. 

He released a low growl, shifting in his seat in displeasure. He’d be dead than admit the slight urge to use the bathroom. He could last all night without going, but she didn’t have to know that. 

The cop hummed slightly, “Sorry, that was disrespectful.” She coughed into her hand, returning to her research and speedy typing on the computer. 

He felt sparks of anger curling in his chest and he had an idea. It was quite risky, but with her attention to the screen and his agility, he could just pull it off. The short chain on his wrists was long enough to be able to strangle somebody, perhaps it would work.

With no sound, he rose from the couch, waiting several beats to see if she’d noticed from the corner of her eye. He blended into the shadows of the surrounding darkness, the only source of light from the screen aiding him in hiding.  

He moved behind her, her fingers never once faltering on writing the report she had opened on her computer, despite his close presence he was sure she must’ve detected. He’d dropped the plan when he saw the dual guns still strapped on to her, he was sure she had more hidden weapons somewhere on her body. He wasn’t a fool, but he would try to find an opening. 

His gaze cut to the top of her head, he knew she was also aware of his hidden intent, “Hm…you didn’t flinch.” The chains rattled slightly when he grabbed onto her chair, he scented the air like a cat, “You have no fear either…” 

Her voice was calm, even, “Is there a reason to?” 

He chuckled darkly, eyes glowing, “I’m a suspect in multiple murders, leader of a lethal criminal organization.” His knuckles were a hair’s breath away from touching her back, “You know about my training and yet you dare to turn your back to me?” an amused grin curled his lips, feeling excited about a challenge.

She scoffed softly, “The same can be said about you. I assume, you’re well aware of my training and you suspect me of carrying multiple weapons on my body, which I won’t correct you on.” Her fingers typed with the same fluidity as before, “So tell me, why should I not turn my back on the innocent man in my own home?”

His grin left his lips, “Innocent man?” was she delusional? She herself called him a criminal!

This time, she turned her head slightly, just to see him from the corner of her eye, “Suspects are innocent until proven guilty.” She stood now to her full height, a head shorter than him, the chair was the only thing between them now, “For as long as the investigation runs, you’ll remain here where I can keep an eye on you.” Her knowing, fierce expression melted away in a calm, almost kind smile, “Isn’t that right, Chat Noir?” 

He bit back the scathing retort bubbling in the back of his throat, instead he fixed her with a look, the air between them thick, “If you say so, lieutenant.” Her title was dripping with venom and mockery, but she didn’t let that deter her at all. 

“I trust you can arrange your bed yourself.” Her gaze briefly flicked down to his bound hands before gesturing towards the couch, turning around to shut down her computer and gather the paperwork. 

He scoffed, silently planning her early demise in the morning.

Thank you for reading! Also should I write a Part 2?? Tell me if something should be changed :)

[raendown]

Pairing: IzunaTobirama Word count: 1527 Soulmate au: The one where when you meet your soulmate's gaze for the first time you both swap one of each other's eyes.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

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Chapter 201: Izuna/Tobirama

He would never admit it if his brother asked but Izuna was tired. Tired of the war, tired of death, tired of wondering if all of his precious people would survive to see the turning of the new year. Sometimes he did sit and think on the ideas of peace that Madara had never quite given up on. They were big dreams and he could admit to himself that they did sound nice but as much as he wanted to he could never bring himself to trust in them.

No matter how much Madara wanted them to these stupid pipe dreams could never actually work. Begrudgingly Izuna could agree that Hashirama seemed entirely sincere in his offers and would almost definitely hold up his end of whatever deal they came to. The problem was not with him, no, the problem was with the rest of the Senju clan. After generations of killing and death and revenge how could Izuna ever trust that their greatest enemies were truly ready to set down their weapons and live side by side in harmony? How could he agree to peace with no guarantee that anyone else wanted it to last?

It would be nice though. That much he would admit to anyone. Peace would be nice – or it would if he could imagine a world like that.

Watching the graceful arc his rival’s sword made through the air, Izuna very nearly laughed at the idea that Tobirama could ever adhere to the tenets of peace. From what he knew of the man, information cobbled together through battlefield observations and a network of spies, he seemed to be the exact opposite of his brother in every way. Where Hashirama was cheerful he was serious, where Hashirama was a little ditzy he was painfully genius, and where Hashirama was dreamed of a village they all could live in together Tobirama was a ruthless realist keeping his brother’s fantasies in check with an iron fist. Not exactly the sort of man one could see putting down his sword to take up goat farming or whatever the hell they were supposed to do if not slice each other to pieces.

Maybe it said something about his own commitment that Izuna had no idea what he was supposed to fill his time with in the event this stupid war ever did end for real.

“You should pay more attention,” Tobirama scolded him in a flat voice. “When I finally cut off your head I’d like it to be the last thing you see.”

It was probably the fact that he’d been lost in those particular thoughts that Izuna recognized the fatigue hidden behind his rival’s words, the sort of weariness he himself battled against shaded with the same hesitance. When he lifted his own sword to parry the blow headed for his neck it was an absent motion driven by years of habit as he continued to brood thoughtfully. For so long he’d been worried about Tobirama in particular standing in the way of peace. Was it possible the opposite was true? It was common knowledge that Tobirama refused to support his brother’s efforts to bind their clans together. It would be nothing less than the height of irony if they had both spent the last several years dancing around each other in fear, waiting for assurance of a shared goal while given none themselves.

With a grunt Izuna crossed their blades again but rather than twist and shove his opponent back he stepped forward in to Tobirama’s personal space where neither of their weapons could do any good. A sword was only effective if one had the space to swing it.

“I think I have a few other things to see before I die,” he murmured.

“You could try seeing reason.” Words such as those weren’t entirely out of character for the man before him, he’d said such things before though Izuna had never paid much attention and usually told him to stop chatting up his enemies. Today his narrowed his eyes. Today he hummed and carefully lifted his chin.

“Go on then,” he taunted, the only opening he was prepared to give. “Why don’t you explain what you want me to see.”

Before his opponent had time to look away Izuna snapped his gaze up, forcing their eyes to meet for the first time. Meeting another person’s eyes was a bad idea for any shinobi who didn’t want to risk finding their soulmate in the wrong place but it was especially stupid for any enemy of the Uchiha clan. For years it had frustrated him only on the grounds that it made snaring his opponents in a genjutsu incredibly difficult when they refused to look at the source of his ability. Obviously he’d never considered Tobirama dangerous to him in any way that mattered.

Until he watched as one of the man’s eyes darkened by a single shade, three dark tomoe spiraling in to existence around the pupil. The reality of what he was seeing had barely taken shape in his mind when Tobirama went stumbling backwards with an expression Izuna had seen on dozens of Uchiha children. An expression he himself had worn once. Seeing the world through the Sharingan’s vision for the first time was a jarring experience for a mind to get used to.

“Alright, I wasn’t expecting to see that,” Izuna mumbled under his breath.

“What is…I don’t…” Swallowing harshly, Tobirama clamped his jaw shut before he could spout any more half sentences but the damage was already done. Anyone close enough to see his face or hear his voice would have no doubts about how rattled he was.

It was interesting to watch. Even more interesting to consider the implications. Though very few had ever accused Izuna of being a genius on the same level as his rival he was still a smart man with a sharp mind that had kept him alive for many years with quick thinking and bold leaps of intuition. Watching the emotions unfold on his opponent’s face was only half as telling as the fact that Tobirama had yet to attack him again and that was all he needed to come to a conclusion that raised even his own eyebrows. After all the years of worrying about assurance he may have just found it right here in front of him.

“Well now,” he grinned, knowing that one of his own eyes had just lost the Sharingan but unbothered by it. “Isn’t that just fantastic.” He’d always known he would lose one eye if he ever met his soulmate. Maybe the thought of giving such an advantage to his oldest enemy should have panicked him but Tobirama seemed delightfully panicked all on his own.

“Shut up,” was all the weak reply that could be mustered.

“Oh how vicious. I’m shaking in my boots. And I’m not even wearing any boots, quite the feat there.”  

“Fuck off and let me think!”

Izuna hummed so he wouldn’t laugh. “What’ya thinking about? Nice things, I hope. Peace? Have you caught your brother’s infection?” Tobirama gaped at him and Izuna bared his teeth in the best smile he had for this man. “Let’s not play coy. Don’t pretend you’ve never thought about it before.”

He could tell his guesses had hit home when Tobirama snarled viciously and spun around to signal the retreat. Not one Senju thought to question an order from their second in command; only moments later their forces were disengaging, gathering their wounded and disappearing in to the trees. Across the field Hashirama cast a worried look in his brother’s direction and extracted himself from his fight against Madara with very obvious reluctance. Madara, for once, had no taunts to convince the man to stay, only spat at his feet in a manner that directly contradicted the open curiosity in his eyes.

From where he stood half a battlefield away Izuna jerked his eyes away from his brother to watch Tobirama’s flickering form disappear with the rest of his clan. All he’d wanted was to taunt the man in to revealing some hint of a possible mutual goal, he really hadn’t expected to discover his soulmate today. One hand lifted to trace the skin just beneath his left eye, now permanently red though it would never know the tomoe of a Sharingan again. Maybe – and it was a big maybe – he was just a little more okay with Tobirama carrying his eye than anyone else. At least he had given such power in to worthy hands. What would a powerless civilian want with the tomoe and the lineage and all the mind-shattering memories that would never go away?

Letting his gaze slide back over to Madara, he sighed. When they got home he just knew he would be getting the same speech about coming around to the idea of peace. It was almost a tradition at this point. This time, however, maybe he would listen. And if his brother wasn’t too annoying maybe he would even look Madara in the eye and tell him all about the new soulmate, the new hope, he had just discovered.