#i had images i wanted to draw and they told a story. the formatting was unimportant to me

[mars-ipan]

reposting the poll comic in an original post so i can art tag it and also ramble in tags teehee :) once again feat. @beesbeesbees42​ ‘s sona

full page under the cut btw:

[auraxins]

notes: sunday x gn!reader, angst, post-penacony story (inc. spoilers)

vomited this out at 4am with no edits and no attention to coherency you're welcome goodnight

When you're granted access to visit Sunday, a part of you wishes that The Family had told you no.

His cell is imposing, far larger than he has any need for, with elaborate chains keeping his arms shackled above his head. There is something about the droop to his frame, the aversion of his gaze, his closed eyes, that tightens your chest.

He looks small.

He looks lonely.

(You're hurt, you remind yourself. In his endeavours to rid his world of the ardors of survival, Sunday had hurt you. He had hurt so many of the people you cared about.)

And yet there is a pain etched deep into his face when he finally looks up at you. Those golden eyes are tarnished, tired, but most importantly they are surprised. (Whether it's because he sees you, or that he's been warranted a visitor in the first place, you remain unsure.)

You take a tentative step forward. The guards outside move back into formation as the cell door falls shut.

Sunday doesn't speak. You don't think you want him to. He simply watches, with those pained eyes, as you decide what to do.

"I haven't forgiven you," you speak at last, choking down your nerves. "You know that, don't you?"

Dry lips part, then close. He opts instead to nod.

You take another step, and another, til a mere stretch of your arm separates you from the silken feathers around his head. (A distant, echoing voice at the back of your mind lists off all you might be capable of from this distance. Another cries out to flee.)

"I trusted you." Though you try to stifle it, your voice cracks. "You broke my trust, Sunday."

He can't seem to find the words to answer you today. It's a palpable change from how talkative you're used to him. (You wonder briefly whether it would be easier for him to speak back, or if you prefer it this way. At least you've the freedom to say what's on your mind.)

"You know, at first they wanted to arrest me too." A dry, bitter laugh escapes you. "The Family thought I was working with you. I wouldn't be surprised if they still did. Maybe that's the only reason I've been allowed to see you, so they can figure it out for themselves."

You move to sit, cross-legged on the floor at Sunday's feet. Looking up at him like this feels uncomfortable, strange, but it also gives you the perfect angle to get a better look at him.

Despite the dishevelled clothes and hair that are so clearly a result of the aftermath of his incarceration, he maintains a faint air of elegance. It is settled into the fine curve of his jaw, the delicate long lashes that frame those tarnished eyes- which continue to watch you with an amalgam of pain and surprise- and in the sweeping arc of his body as he leans forwards in his chair.

He's beautiful, as he always has been.

And yet it remains difficult to separate him from the image of that ascended monster you'd observed the Express engage in battle. The looming figure, the stark brightness of its porcelain form, had haunted you for days. Almost weeks.

(But Sunday himself has haunted you for far longer.

He continues to now, with his silence, with his gaze. Akin to a ghost, the man you have allowed to obscure your mind lingers fleeting and restless.)

When he speaks at last, after so many year-long minutes, you fear you've succumbed to a hallucination.

"I've missed you," he says. It comes out rasped, strained, accompanied with a heaving cough, but it rings out clear as day in the silence of his cell.

A soft jingling, then a harsh clank, draws your attention to the chains above his head. He'd tried to move his arm, you surmise, and failed miserably. You can't decide if you're glad he can't reach out to touch you like he seems to want. (Your fingers twitch at your sides, echoing the sentiment.)

Sunday once longed for freedom. In the sanctity of his office, he had told you as much. The metal that bites against his wrists and ankles now feels so terribly far removed from such a vision. (If he had the chance, would he have taken it back and spread his wings? Or has he always been fated to remain caged?)

Your chest heaves as you feel a tear well up in the corner of your eye.

(You can't cry here, not now. Not in front of him.)

One of the guards knocks on the door. One more minute. A sigh of relief falls past your lips.

"You're leaving already?" Sunday asks. If you didn't know better, you'd think those dulled eyes of his mirrored your own right now.

You don't speak as you walk to the door, waiting patiently for the guards to let you leave.

Through the final stretch of light that paints his cell, you take one more glance to him. You try not to catch what he mouths, but the sight is seared in your mind within an instant.

"Is everything okay?" A guard asks, arm outstretched to escort you from the prison.

"I suppose it'll have to be," you say.

[justforbooks]

Kate Hepburn

Designer and artist who worked for Spare Rib, the Monty Python team and Pink Floyd

In a career that spanned half a century, the graphic designer Kate Hepburn, who has died aged 77 of multiple system atrophy, displayed great versatility. While an artist aims to develop a distinctive and recognisable style, a designer must be able to alter their approach and technique according to the situation. Hepburn was adept at this, working in fields including leftwing causes, music, comedy and publishing.

In 1970, during Kate’s first year of study at Royal College of Art, London, her sister Alison married Terry Jones of the Monty Python team. This led to Kate working with Terry Gilliam on the animations that punctuated the television comedy series Monty Python’s Flying Circus; in particular he recalled her skill in drawing medieval figures. For The Brand New Monty Python Bok (1973), with its misspelled title, she designed a dust jacket smeared with fingerprints. Those who believed the jacket to be genuinely dirty could discard it – revealing the explicit mock-cover of Tits ’n Bums, “a Weekly Look at Church Architecture”.

The Python books co-designed by Hepburn show her brilliance at recreating anything, from the photo-love stories of girls’ comics, complete with deliberately abysmal picture quality, to classifieds to children’s books to Victorian play manuscripts. She would switch typesetting methods – Linotype for one pastiche, rub-down lettering for another – to achieve the authentic flavour.

In 1972, Hepburn joined the staff of the new feminist magazine Spare Rib. Its format and grid were worked out by Sally Doust, a co-designer. Hepburn’s first contribution was its logo, which the magazine’s co-founder Marsha Rowe said was made “with a mix of typeface and free hand. She designed ‘Spare’ in smaller type, jutting up against the ‘Rib’, the ‘ib’ sloping forward, with a jagged force, resonant of bone.” This reassured Rowe that her choice of title, initially a joke, was the right one. Rowe wanted to attract “women readers who were still nervous of Women’s Liberation”, and Hepburn understood that some camouflage was needed, believing that “the magazine’s design and choice of photos should look like other women’s magazines, only with different content”.

Hepburn left the magazine in January 1973, later telling Rowe that she had “begun to feel the strain of the contradiction in working for Monty Python, which still had an element of sexism, and for Spare Rib”.

In 1974, Hepburn began her occasional work for Pink Floyd. Before a tour of Japan, the drummer Nick Mason asked Hepburn to adapt Hokusai’s The Great Wave off Kanagawa for his drumkit. “I had the idea, but she picked it up and took it into a 3D world.” Of her oeuvre in general, Hepburn told me that there was a lot of pastiche. But pastiche is a craft in itself, and artworks such as Mason’s drumkit, which Hepburn painted by hand, went beyond pastiche – here, by reinventing a two-dimensional graphic as a sequence of three-dimensional cylinders sitting adjacent in space.

From 1975, Hepburn contributed cover and book designs to the leftwing publisher Pluto Press, often working through the night to meet deadlines. Her designs for editions of Pluto’s themed Big Red Diary show her skill in collaging images from disparate sources to create a dynamic, coherent whole.

In the 1980s, Hepburn’s work branched out into stage design, in collaboration with her then partner Mark Fisher. Her work for Jean-Michel Jarre’s 1981 tour of China featured banners printed using rudimentary Chinese printing, airbrushed posters on canvas and the cover of the consequent live album. This work earned her two D&AD awards.

Born in Blackheath, London, Kate was the daughter of Margaret (nee Hope) and James Telfer. After her parents separated, she lived with her mother in Hampstead. Margaret later married James Hepburn, whose RAF job required the family to move frequently. In 1960 they finally settled in Parliament Hill, London, where Kate attended Camden school for girls. There she adopted Hepburn’s name, thinking it a better one for an artist.

After a year at Bath Academy of Art, she enrolled in 1966 as a graphic design student at the Central School of Arts and Crafts (now part of the University of Arts London), where she received rigorous training in drawing layouts and type by hand: “You had to hand-rule the text with your Rapidograph pen, and trace 7-point type. It was a very lengthy process, devoted at times.” Making thumbnails and sketches had remained important throughout her career, as “a way of letting the client know that you hadn’t taken expensive decisions using actual materials. You were still drawing, still discussing with them.”

At Central, Hepburn began a relationship with fellow student Pearce Marchbank, whose pioneering work for underground magazines applied radical graphic techniques to politically radical content. Early in their careers both Hepburn and Marchbank had to find ways to achieve maximum visual impact with rudimentary means, for clients who had little money. After the couple separated, Marchbank’s technical knowhow remained a valuable resource. In 1987 they collaborated with Roger Waters on his album Radio K.A.O.S., a cover that converts Waters’ name and track titles to morse code. This needed only two inks and no images, contrasting with the extravagantly staged imagery used by other stadium acts at the time.

In later years Hepburn continued with her watercolour paintings, and screenprints of abstract designs conceived during her student days. Despite periods in which she worked in-house – notably at Wolff Olins brand consultancy – her calling was that of a freelance designer and artist whose vocabulary allows them to switch style to fit the circumstances.

She is survived by her daughter, Usha, her grandchildren, Maya and Manu, and her sisters, Alison and Harriet.

🔔 Kate Hepburn, graphic designer and artist, born 11 June 1947; died 26 July 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[rottmnt-residuum]

I'm planning on creating a comic, and wanted to know if you possibly had any tips? I'm a big fan of your comic and I look up to you a lot. No pressure ofc!

Btw your series is going amazing, I love the plot so much-

Have an amazing day :)

*slams through wall and sets up a projector*

disclaimer: this is stuff that works for me, but everyones brain is different. take what you like and throw out the rest

tip 1: find someone who loves the story just as much as you do. two heads better than one and all that. much easier to iron out stuff that isn't clicking in your own head. my co-author was instrumental in the filling of plot holes and story beats. if you can't find someone, the rubberduck method works too.

tip 2! set limits on yourself! cut corners! cant make a comic if you intimidate yourself out of it. thats why my comic is formatted the way it is! ten images only per part, shitty backgrounds, limited to no internal dialogue.

tip 3! make a comic style! personally, i love the sketch, color, and lighting stages of drawing. BUT! my preferred style isn't exactly comic friendly- so i make a different style for each comic i do. with this style, it only takes me about an hour to do a panel if everything goes smoothly, but in my preferred style it would take me 4 to 6. big difference, yeah?

tip 4! play to your strengths! basically find what you do well and use it as much as possible. I've been told im good at expressions, so i try to use those to signify what characters are thinking instead of writing it, because i cannot write internal dialogue to save my life. i also like drawing hands. so.

tip 5! memes. make so many memes. they're really useful for story and character snapshots. and since they're memes they don't feel very perminent, thus it's easier to throw out ideas that aren't working. and also help with how characters would react to situations. i have an entire folder dedicated to residuum memes on my laptop

anyway, hope you enjoy doing your comic!! and i hope at least some of this helps

[snowstories]

I'm overall pretty meh on the Link's Awakening manga but I think it did two things really well: the boat scene, and the ending.

The boat scene happens about halfway through the second and last volume of the manga, not long after Link has found out the truth about Koholint. The manga, like most game retellings, changes the story of the game slightly so that it works better in manga format. So rather than Link going straight to another dungeon after finding out the truth, he lashes out, believing that waking the Wind Fish will doom everyone and that the people who told him to do so lied to him. He rejects his destiny (the manga goes way harder on destiny than the game, one of the things I don't particularly like about it) and resolves to let the Wind Fish sleep forever. Instead, he goes to make a raft, intent on escaping the island, and asks Marin to come with him. She agrees to do so.

Everyone gathers on the shore to say a tearful farewell to Marin, who promises she'll return someday, and she and Link set out. At first, everything seems wonderful; Marin and Link are in high spirits, watching some dolphins play, riding the waves, etc. But soon it becomes apparent that... well...

[Image: panel from the Link's Awakening manga showing Marin and Link's raft out on sea, with Koholint looming in the distance. Marin says: "We shouldn't be able to see the island anymore, but there it is..." End description.]

They cannot get away from the island. No matter how hard Link rows, Koholint never gets any further away. They cannot leave.

Eventually, Marin asks a now-exhausted Link to go back to shore. Link is devastated, but Marin remains in a seemingly high spirits. They have a talk, and Link asks Marin why she wanted to leave Koholint. Marin reveals that ever since she was little, she's had the same dream every night: she's in a town she's never seen before, surrounded by smiling faces. It's a nice dream, so she thought that by leaving, she could dream without ever having to wake up. However, she concludes that, no matter how nice a dream is, you'll have to wake up eventually.

Marin leaves after this, but Link remains. The Owl arrives, and they have a talk about destiny and the nature of Koholint. Finally, the owl says this:

[Image: page from the Link's Awakening manga. Panels show the shoreline, the sky and the Owl. The Owl says: "...Dream... The people who you see are actually just like a mirror... The various things that you see... Like this island... Thoughts take on form and begin existence." The Owl continues: "The heart that doesn't want to wake up... and the heart that does want to wake up." For the first part of that sentence, the monsters are shown; for the second part, Marin. End description.]

The Owl asks Link what he'll do. Link begins, saying that when the Wind Fish wakes, everyone and everything will be gone, but then rejects it. He stands up and states:

[Image: page from Link's Awakening. Link stands up and grasps his sword, powering it up. In the last panel, he is crying. He says: "The time that I've spent on this island, I won't forget it. In my heart it will remain for a lifetime! It may vanish everywhere else, but not for me! So... From inside the "Wind Fish"s dream and into my heart... It won't end, it will just change locations..." End description.]

Which is clear set-up for the ending.

At last, after defeating the Nightmares, the Wind Fish appears to Link, the story drawing to a close. As they move to the end, the Wind Fish states:

[Image: two panels from the LInk's Awakening manga, showing the Wind Fish doing a voice over, a panel collecting various moments from the manga. He says: "Yes. But the memories of this island will always remain in your heart. You will always remember this island. This memory will make the world of dreams real." End description.]

Which is ultimately the central thesis of the ending.

The Wind Fish invites Link to play the Song of Awakening with him, and as Link does, it pans over to Koholint and its people, leading to a two-page spread and my favourite panel of the manga:

[Image: two-page spread showing Link playing the ocarina against a bird's eye view of Koholint, with the animals, Tarin, Lady MeowMeow and Bowwow, Felicia (a manga-only fairy character) and Marin singing along. Link thinks: "Ah... Look... Everybody... Sing... Sing the Wind Fish's song... Marin..." End description.]

In which, as the final song of awakening plays and the island disappears, everyone joins in to sing along.

In my mind, both the boat scene and the final ending stand out because they show a keen understanding of Koholint and the game's themes.

The boat scene is a fascinating addition to the Link's Awakening story, in my opinion a very smart move, as it provides a very natural avenue for the manga to explore the nature of Koholint. It delves more directly into the fridge horror of Koholint's existence than most of the game does, to great effect: the initial reveal that you cannot go beyond the horizon, that it is impossible to escape the island, is done to great effect and contrasted effectively with the more light-hearted tone of only a page earlier. Link's desperation to escape anyway, contrasted with Marin's calmer acceptance of the reality of the situation, does a great job highlighting Link's state of mind during this portion of the story, and also does a great job showing he's wrong without directly stating so. Because Marin has already realized the truth Link is still unwilling to admit: that no matter how nice a dream is, you need to wake up eventually. It's sad, but she's ultimately at peace with it, in a way Link still needs to learn.

The follow-up scene at the beach with Marin and the Owl of course addresses and states this more directly, having Link realize the fundamental flaw in his thinking, and moreover stating the lynchpin of the story's ending: that Koholint will not die as long as Link remembers it. After this moment, the story states multiple times that a new Koholint is being built in Link's heart, to be completed after the dream ends. Ending the dream is integral to building it up again, in another's memory.

The ending is, in my opinion, the highlight of the manga. Link is sad, but at peace with waking up, having loved this island and treasuring this memory. Having everyone join in on the final song of awakening was an absolute stroke of genius, highlighting that the waking of the Wind Fish is not Koholint's doom, but in fact, its wish. In the end, it's not just Link and the Wind Fish waking up: it's everyone alongside them, joining in the chorus as the dream ends.

And finally, at the very end, the second-to-last page:

[Image: page from the Link's Awakening manga. Link sits on a piece of driftwood, staring at the sky, saying: "...That such a place... such a place..." He presses his hands against his heart, the edge of his face just barely visible, tears dripping down it, saying: "It... It was real...!" The then wipes his tears, picks up a different piece of driftwood to paddle with, and smiles as he looks up. End description.]

Link cries as he remembers Koholint, but ultimately, the joy of having known it, and the realization that it will always live on in his heart wins out, and he smiles as he paddles into the horizon.

As stated, I'm not this manga's biggest fan; for the most part, I think it falls into a lot of the same tropes and pitfalls of other video game adaptation manga, and in addition I don't like its heavy focus on destiny and believe Marin is a far more interesting character in the game. But it does a fantastic job with Koholint, showing a keen understanding and interesting interpretation of its nature, successfully adapting the game's themes regarding the nature of the dream and its fate into a different type of storytelling. The boat scene, which plays into Koholint's fridge horror and highlights its unearthly nature, and the ending sequence, with its triumphant tone yet unavoidable sadness, are the highlights for me.

And particular, the idea to have everyone on the island join in the final song of awakening was a stroke of genius and is going to live in my head rent free forever.

You can find a large collection of Zelda game manga on historyofhyrule.com, including both volumes of the Link's Awakening manga in both their original Japanese and translated into English; it is where I read it and where I got the panels and pages used in this post from.

[swearyshera]

Ooh, I've got quite a few asks! This is a long one...

Aw, thank you so much! I've always said that I try to turn the subtext into text, but even doing that there's still plenty of subtext!

I come from a place of loving all the characters, so any mocking of them is gentle and light-hearted, but hopefully it has given people a different perspective on a few of them. A big part of the plot I've ended up writing is about loving yourself as you are, and not being ashamed to be true to yourself, and I think Hordak really exemplifies that as someone who very much struggled with that concept in the face of Horde Prime (someone who demands conformity). In that respect, he's very much a character I'm sure some people can relate to. Also I made him a largely incompetent evil emperor because that was just funny, so there's maybe fewer absolutely horrifying things he's done.

One of the advantages of this format is having more time to spend with the characters (I don't have to fit everything into 20 minutes), so that does mean we get more depth to people like Castaspella or the Horde Trio. That's not to criticise the original, there will always have to be side characters and characters who don't get much time, but I get to spend a little more time with them like this.

I'm glad you've come along for the ride, and I hope you enjoy the final week!

He is!

Also this has probably prompted someone to write/draw Entrapdak as Barbie and Ken now...

@tenaciousdecapitator That would have happened if Prime had gone on about how perfect Gateshead is!

@solcaeruleus If I can make people cry, that counts as a victory!

The "I care what she thinks" line had been in my notes for so long - in fact, I think the first time I wrote Entrapta's "We're enough as we are" back in Season 3, I knew this scene would call back to that. It is the full circle of Hordak's character arc, really - he went from trying to be what someone else (Prime) wanted, to someone that he wanted to be. And it's of note that he doesn't entirely reject the 'fuck what anyone else thinks', because he cares what Entrapta thinks - he's taken that and added his own spin to it: You don't have to be anything for anyone, but making someone you care about proud sometimes helps you become who you want to be.

@kirvee ME NEITHER

@gardensofcrystals I'm so glad you could find some catharsis in this!

While I've not specifically written Prime as a particularly religious thing, the image I've had of him as some right-wing, anti-queer, anti-woman person isn't exactly a million miles from some types of Evangelical preachers, and I couldn't completely divorce him from that image because it was intended in the original - he's supposed to be an analogy to that kind of person.

His story is probably familiar to many people, who find something about their identity at odds with what they're told they should be. And that could be about sexuality with homophobic parents, or some aspect of yourself that's considered unacceptable by a religious or societal authority - I'm sure we've all had moments where we've felt we need to hide something about ourselves that we should never have to hide.

But whereas Prime will never be convinced that Hordak is 'good enough', my (admittedly limited) knowledge of religion is that God is kind of a loving guy and was quite hot on not being a judgemental prick to your fellow humans.

[minmodulation]

New Ishiguro Interview on "Tengoku Daimayko/Heavenly Delusion" Anime (Rough Translation)

1) When did you first learn that an anime would be created based on your story? How did you feel about it?

I heard about it from the original editor about 3-4 years ago. At first, I didn't feel anything special. After all, proposals for creating anime are quite common, although their realization remains in question. I thought, "I don't think this is a suitable story for anime, although if someone sees the value of this content as animation, it may give me more confidence in the idea that worries me."

2) What were the goals set for the anime adaptation team?

I expressed the opinion that if the plot is transferred directly from the source material, then there is no meaningful load. I love the animation style and direction in anime, so I asked them to create a work that creates a sense of the need for existence in anime format. Also, in case of disagreements between the source material and the direction, the creative vision of the director and operators should be considered a priority, and they should create what they want instead of simply following the source material.

3) How is Isiguro-sensei involved in production?

My role is almost like a final check. I look at what has been created and say "It's all good" (laughs). The project is wonderful, so my set of compliments has started to run out. The production period coincided with the COVID period, so direct communication with my team was very limited.

4) Did you discuss the original plot and other aspects with the team?

At the first meeting with the animation studio, I told the director a nearly finished plot that had not yet been drawn. I couldn't help talking about the plot, but it was difficult (laughs). It was like the situation where "a future manga artist, a student at the university, can't debut because he only tells his friends the story without drawing it" (laughs).

4.1) Each character perfectly matches their image and it's amazing.

5) What is the opinion on the anime script?

I was told that the original work has a very convoluted structure and was written blindly, so consider it a draft. Therefore, when I read the script, I thought, "Oh, I see, this is a good decision. This is the right way." I even want to redraw the manga from the beginning, transforming the anime script into a drawn project.

6) What is the impression of the cast?

I was hardly involved in the selection of actors. At the final stage, I only said something like "Increase articulation a little." The studio carefully studied the dramatic roles and chose actors that matched, so each character perfectly matches their image and it's amazing. The performer of the role of Maru is very good in strong dramatic scenes, so I think we need to add more serious scenes for Maru in the original.

7) Can you tell us what awaits us in the 3rd episode and beyond?

The 3rd episode focuses on the memories of the main character, so even from this episode, you can understand the plot. The 3rd episode was so amazing that I had something to think about for several days. I even thought that I would buy the DVD just for this episode. Anyway, I would like you to watch the 3rd episode and continue watching the anime further.

8) Is the manga better?

No, the anime version surpasses the original. Everywhere, in every place, the anime is beautiful, but if we talk about the most noticeable aspect, it's the background colors. The flawlessness of the background picture is noticeable right away while watching. I would even say that the difference in airiness between the background of monochromatic lines in the manga and the background art in the anime is simply night and day.

9) Please say a few words for manga and anime fans.

"Tengoku Daimakyou" is a project that goes against the trend, where the essence is clear from the title, where the story unfolds over four pages, and where readers simply scroll through the manga on their phone screens. I think everyone involved in creating the anime also agrees with this, and they express it in the form of super-detailed originality. We promise to answer all open questions in the original, so if you're confused, you can go back and read again, and also watch more detailed movements and direction in the anime and flip them back and forth to not miss details and impressions. We would be grateful if you could join the project.

[neurodiversitysci]

The image above expresses the attitude towards children I grew up with, in a fairly conservative United States suburb in the 1990′s. Expectations for children’s behavior were strict, and when children failed to meet them, their parents were blamed publicly and privately, to a traumatizing degree. 

When I went to the Kids R Us, Toys R Us, even the supermarket I constantly heard parents yelling and nagging at their kids over virtually nothing, and telling them not to cry. Kids had their own segregated food (unhealthy, tasteless fast food and pizza), clothing, and activities (full of plastic junk toys and meaningless crafts that would get thrown out the day they were made). 

Parenting advice was everywhere, in grocery checkout aisles and doctor’s waiting rooms, with the format “push button, receive behavior” and the goal of making kids do what you wanted easily, without conflict. It drove my mom frantic that it never worked for neurodivergent kids like hers. 

In school, we had to get permission to go to the bathroom. I’ll never forget nearly wetting myself for a half an hour waiting for the kids with the passes to return. I learned that even my most basic basic bodily needs were unimportant and unacceptable.

No one seemed to think kids were actual people, and the segregation and contempt pissed me off even when I was young enough to use a kid’s menu. The anger and hurt are still there, under the surface.

And yes, I was one of those kids who couldn’t focus on busywork or stand in line for a long time. I’d wander off to dance or draw or I’d just let my imagination wander, “zoning out.” It’s the same old story everyone in neurodivergent communities hears ad infinitum. 

Meanwhile, I was told, and I believed, that school was designed for all the other kids, who seemed to do what was expected without struggle. Many of them even seemed content with school and life. It made me feel even worse about myself. I didn’t understand that they were suffering, too, until I saw my generation and then Gen Z going through the resulting mental health crisis.

Somehow, I never realized that strict expectations that require kids to go against their own needs, that teach kids their basic needs don’t matter, are a reverse curb cut effect.

“Even kids who ARE able to perform this type of behavior are not SERVED well by it...the idea that because some kids may be capable of complying with unfair expectations, those expectations don’t hurt them, is a dangerous idea.”

Yes. All kids deserve better.

Neurodivergent ones are just the canary in the coal mine. Things that hurt neurodivergent kids, tend to be bad for everyone.

Thank you for pointing this out, OP.

I saw this on FB today and I wanna try and express something about it. Like, you know the curbcutter effect? Where when curbcuts are put in it benefits everyone (bicyclists, people with baby strollers etc) and not just disabled people?

There is also whatever the opposite of the curbcutter effect is. And this is that.

This isn't just anti-adhd/autism propaganda... this is anti-child propaganda.

Kids have developmentally appropriate ways that they need to move their bodies and express themselves and sitting perfectly still staring straight ahead is not natural or good for ANY CHILD.

Don't get me wrong, I was punished unduly as a kid for being neurodivergent (and other types of kid will ALSO be punished unduly for it... Black kids come to mind) and thus UNABLE to perform this -- but even the kids who ARE able to perform this type of behavior are not SERVED WELL by it. They don't benefit from it.

This is bad for everyone.

The idea that bc some kids may be capable of complying with unfair expectations, those expectations don't hurt them... is a dangerous idea. Compliance isn't thriving. Expectation of compliance isn't fair treatment.

[the-mist-striders]

News & Updates - Edits incoming soon

Hey everyone, apologies that the updates are very spotty, I’m not very good at remembering to update this.

So we got a few things to cover;

1. Amahlia’s player is working on adapting these into a video format! We haven’t published any yet but stay tuned. Here’s a link to the channel so you can go give them a follow early: The Mist Striders (YouTube)

//Edit: if you just got here the below news will be confusing. Feel free to call it good here

2. Since we wanted to do an adaption of the sessions we kind of encountered a few issues. This is what the rest of this post will be about and I will be detailing spoilers in order to address it, so feel free to keep scrolling and not click ‘Read more” if you want to stay spoiler free. You have been warned.

So one of the things is that Imil died so early into the campaign that he didn’t get a portrait made. We want this fact to be less obvious in the adaption (and here too, it always kind of bothered me) it also would help a lot with the video part of the format.

This by itself isn’t an issue however. It’s the real world context of the table that is.

We had a table dynamic that shifted more and more negative that led to a fallout between Imil & Liliya’s player and Amahlia’s player. Imil/Liliya’s player (understandably) left the table, the terms of which are a bit grey and vary from player to player.

So my first idea was to draw Imil from memory, this however isn’t an option because I hardly remember what he looked like and didn’t have access to the ref image that was used.

Second idea was to request permission + some details on what Imil looked like. I am no longer in contact with her so I asked someone who still was if they could ask.

After a month or two, this contact told me that It would be better to just replace Imil with a (similar) new character, and Liliya as well. I didn’t want to pry too much, and am choosing to trust the contact’s intuition that it would be bad to ask (sometimes even a simple question can be salt on ones wounds).

Long story short, I will be swapping Imil’s name for “Cinderell” a character we’re kind of putting together as a group. Haven’t gone far enough to plot out who is replacing Liliya yet.

The actions committed by the two characters will mostly remain intact since we can’t diverge much without changing the whole story.

I’ll be working on some episodes again so expect a burst of updates soon after the updates are complete <3

-Kai’s Player

[donutloverxo]

NSFW alphabet | Chris Evans

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Note - This is written just for fun. I don't know Chris or what he likes lol. I also don't own the alphabet format.

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Warnings - rpf, smut, daddy kink, d/s relationship, dom Chris, anal stuff, semi public sex, spanking, sex toys, praise kink.

Word count - 2.5k

A=Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Chris is clingy as fuck after sex. He’ll hold you close to his heart (you being the lil spoon of course) and not let go the entire night. With soft kisses on your face, hair and on any bruises he might have left on you. With some pillow talk about how his love for you can overwhelm him sometimes, that he can’t imagine not having you not that he gets to have a taste of you almost every night. Sometimes he likes to listen to you talk about your day, or share a deep secret you hadn’t told anyone else.

His clinginess is something you adore. Something which you would usually be fine with, how he just could not keep his hands off of you, but when you’re somewhere tropical and hot it becomes a bit of a problem.

You were visiting him while he was filming for red Sea diving resort, after seeing him in the beard and the longer hair you couldn’t help yourself and you just jumped on him. After some hot and sweaty sex, you had moved away from him a little, with your back to him you wiped the sheen off of your forehead with the back of your hand, trying to fan yourself with your own hand, ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he had growled. Not wanting even an inch of distance between the two of you. You tried to protest because you needed to cool off but eventually gave in.

B=Body Part (Their favorite body part)

Everyone knows the answer to this. He likes your ass the most. It doesn’t matter if it’s a flat ass or a thick one he’ll love it the same because it’s a part of you. He likes to smack it, he likes looking at it, he may even like to fuck it. Some stretch marks would just be the cherry on top.

His next favorite would have to be your hips. He loves to see their silhouette through your yoga pants or jeans, or even a dress. After a night of some rough fucking they usually bear his handprints which he loves obviously because it’s almost like he branded you as his own.

C=Cum (Anything to do with cum basically... I’m a disgusting person)

It’s always a battle with the two of you when it comes to cumming. Because Chris likes to see your body covered in his seed, particularly your face, ass and breasts, and you like to have him do it inside you, be it your pussy or your mouth.

Which he doesn’t mind obviously, he likes the idea of his spend being in your tummy, but he also likes taking pictures of your ass covered with his spunk. You just look so pretty when he comes on your face🥺

D=Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory)

Chris has fucked you in more bathrooms than you can remember. It’s become a thing or almost a ritual now. Whenever he takes you to an event or a party, or just a casual dinner at his family or friends house, you’ll end up on your knees in the bathroom with his dick in your mouth, or he’ll worship you and eat you out till you literally can’t even walk straight.

It started when you accompanied him to an important event, he was extremely anxious. And you felt helpless because you didn’t know how to make him feel better. But you did know one thing that always lifts his mood up. So you dragged him to the men’s room and sucked him off. He was much relaxed the rest for the evening thanks to you.

E= Experience (How experienced are they?)

VERY. He’s extremely experienced. He has a lot of knowledge and puts it to good use on you. Which can be a little daunting if you’re more on the inexperienced side but don’t ne afraid. He’ll train you really well, you just have to be a good girl and listen.

F= Favorite Position

His favorite position would be doggy style. Where he’s doing from behind, with you on your hands and knees, or with your head down and ass perched up to him because you never can stay up right when he’s doing you so well. He has full access to your ass, if you’re okay with it he would use his fingers on you, spank your ass. He loves to grab your hips or your ass and your breasts.

He’s also a huge fan of missionary. Because he can’t see your pretty face, or look into your eyes from behind. Most days he wants intimacy and to show you how much he loves you.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

Depends on his mood. Sometimes he’s a bit goofy, like talking in a comically exaggerated Boston accent when you told him you liked the sound of his voice and how his accent becomes more prominent when he is horny.

But most of the times, he’s in control. He has to maintain some composure so you wouldn’t question who’s really in charge or think that you could get away with anything. Because you know how to make him laugh, and if he let’s you do that he couldn’t keep a straight face while punishing you.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Chris has dark Brown pubic hair, like that of his beard and the hair on his head.

Does anyone remember that term ‘manscaping'? Where dudes trim their pubic hair to make their dicks look bigger. Chris definitely does that. Although he doesn’t need to because like if he got any bigger he might split you in two.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

Doesn’t matter if you’re making love, or fucking hard it will always be intimate and loving with Chris in one way or another.

If you feel needy, and like you want him to show you how much he loves you, you just have to sit on his lap, bat your lashes at him, show him your puppy eyes, and hump his leg a little. He’d get the sign and take you to bed, slowly dragging his cock in and out of you, drawing it out for the both of you, his fingers laced with yours, pinned above your head. He’d feast on your breasts and nipples the whole time just so you could feel his love and need for days.

If you’re feeling particularly frisky, or in a mood to piss him off just so he could be rough with you without you having to ask, you can just give him attitude or roll your eyes a lot. He’ll spank your ass raw, or edge you for hours, or make you climax till it literally hurts, depends on his mood really, to teach you some manners. But since you like the punishment you never learn.

Even while he’s got you over his knee, you not wearing anything but the diamond necklace he gave you, your cheeks wet from crying for the past fifteen minutes, your ass on fire but you still had to take more from him. He tsked, reprimanding you for ruining his expensive dress pants with your slick, playing with your intimate lips, he’d say while stroking your head, “It’s okay, baby, daddy still loves you. Even when you get on my nerves.”

Even while fucking you like he hated you, he made you felt loved and as if you were the most precious person in the world.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

When you started dating, Chris would often masturbate to the thought of you. But when you started sleeping together he never felt the need to, and you asked him not to do it anymore because you didn’t want him wasting his cummies.

Which might’ve been a huge mistake in hindsight because you revealed a weakness of yours. Now when he REALLY wants to punish you, he’d just tie you up jerk off his cock right before your eyes, “See this, sweetheart? I could be fucking your sweet pussy right now, and making you feel good too, but you had go and be a bad girl.” He’d come all over your face or breasts, and would of course make you come too if he feels you’ve learned your lesson.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Chris has a huge daddy kink. He doesn’t just like the title, he likes everything that comes along with it.

He likes that he has to take care of you, in and outside if the bedroom, being a daddy is a 24/7 job, he has to be considerate to you and grateful for all the trust and love you give him.

He also really likes pinning you down. Whether it be during play wrestling or during sex, it makes him feel strong, and it drives you crazy, absolutely feral for him.

L=Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Yeah you’ve had your share of sneaking off to do it during events but his favorite place to do it would be in the privacy of his own home, preferably his bed so that your dog won’t walk in on you.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

If you simply say, “Screw me.” That would probably be more than enough to turn him on and fulfil your request.

But what grinds his gears is seeing you in tight clothing, or the kind of clothes that would show off your assets. If you’re a good mom to dodger, if you show an interest in the things he likes or do anything that would make his heart flutter and make him fall more in love with you.

N= NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would never have proper public sex because that would probably interfere with his public image and work. Other than that he’s pretty open to most things.

He also wouldn’t like to invite anyone else to your bedroom or to share you. It is a nice fantasy for him but way too risky.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes both giving and receiving equally. He likes having you on your back where he can see your face while he explores your intimate walls with his tongue, but he also likes to have you ride his face. You were apprehensive to at first, but with some convincing you agreed.

Sixtynine is another one of his favorites. He never actually had to ask for it. You were sitting on his face, holding onto his stomach and screaming when you felt your orgasm approaching, he pushed your head just a little, you got the hint, and started working on his cock, which was painfully hard.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

It would usually depend on what kinda day it is and how you’re both feeling. But most of the time he is usually slow but at the same time rough. Where his thrusts are drawn out but also impactful.

Q= Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Chris loves quickies. Bending you over the kitchen counter, a quick session in the afternoon on the couch when things got a little too heated while cuddling, in his trailor while he’s on a break, in the shower where he can make you dirty before cleaning you up. You made it.

But he wouldn’t prefer them over proper sex ever. Usually he likes to take his time with you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc)

He’s game to experiment to a certain extent. Even if he’s skeptical about something he’d keep an open mind and give it a shot for you.

S= Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

He’s a fit and motivated man so he can last for a long time and go for many rounds. It’s more likely for you to be tired and tapped out than for him.

If it was a long day on set, and if he’s a little exhausted then he may not be able to go more than once. But will make up for it when he can.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

You both own a variety of butt plugs and vibrators, silky ties, blindfolds, handcuffs that Chris likes to use on you. You even bought a ball gag asking him to put it on you, which was the only time you ever used it because Chris liked to hear your voice and for you to call him daddy or say his name. You couldn’t do it with your mouth full.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Chris teases you a lot, but he would be a MASSIVE tease if he was a little more patient. He knows the effect he has on you. How you can’t take your eyes off him when he wears a t-shirt that’s a bit too tight and shows off his arms, how you can’t help but grab his butt sometimes and feel him up. When you bite your lip or look away when he catches you staring. If you get caught, be prepared because he will only do it more just to egg you on.

His touches a bit too light, he’d bring you to the edge and leave you just there. But fortunately it won’t last long because usually he’s the one who ends up getting riled up.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s loud alright. And he isn’t ashamed of it. He would never try to hide how good you make him feel, or miss an opportunity to call you a good girl and praise your gorgeous body. There will be lots of grunting and groaning and moaning and you revel in every second of it.

X = X-Ray (Let s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s pretty big. Much bigger than average. He looked pretty average when he wasn’t hard, you let that fool you into thinking you could take him pretty easily, he wasn’t that much bigger than anyone else you’d had sex with right?

Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you saw him hard, his dick hard and thick and a blush pink, two thick running on the sides of it.

He assured you that he would make it fit and that you had nothing to be worried about.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s pretty high. Higher than most people at least. You call him your horndog, but like in a nice way, because he always wants it. Even if you spent an entire night screaming his name and being used and stretched in ways that made your pussy as well as your body sore, he would still ask for more the very next morning. He’d respect you if you say no and back off immediately but he’s up for it whenever you want.

ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If he has things on his mind, and if you fall asleep sooner than usual then he’d be up a while. But most of the times he falls asleep quickly after.

[outofangband]

In preparation for my story that deals with the Darkening I want to talk about these two pages part by part because there is just SO much (not least Maedhros running into open court shouting “blood and darkness!” at Manwë)

masterlist 

Also of note is one of the few insights we get into how Maedhros reacts to a violent and traumatic crisis, at least relatively early on in his character arc. 

But even as (Nienna) mourned there was the sound of feet hastening in the night. Then through the throng came the sons of Fëanor, flying from the North and they bore new tidings of evil. Maedhros  spoke for them. “Blood and darkness!’ he cried. ‘Finwë the king is slain and the Silmarils are gone!’

look I know that he is presumably traumatized but just...the image of him running into the equivalent of a court room in session and without greeting just shouting “blood and darkness!” is quite...something 

Then Fëanor fell upon his face and lay as one dead until the full tale was told

So he had been in the ring of doom when his sons came in with this news. I’m going to try and not take any cheap shots with that sentence given the solemnity of the scene but...I’ll leave that to others. 

‘My lord,’ said Maedhros to Manwë, ‘it was the day of the festival but the king was heavy with grief at the departure of my father, a foreboding was on him. He would not go from the house. We were irked by the idleness and silence of the day and we went riding towards the Green Hills. Our faces were Northward but suddenly we were aware that all was growing dim.’

Maedhros captures the atmosphere so vividly here. I can feel a quiet, summer day when there shouldn’t be a thunderstorm but it feels like there will be. Slow and almost crackling and the heavy air starts to feel like dread. I love this description and I’m not doing my response to it justice 

‘The light was failing. In dread we turned and rode back in haste, seeing great shadows rise up before us. But even as we drew near to Formenos the darkness came upon us; and in the midst was a blackness like a cloud that enveloped the house of Fëanor.’

‘That enveloped the house of Fëanor’. I assume he means literally as he was out riding with his brothers but the more symbolic implications of that line are pretty powerful

The rest is under a cut just for length! I should note that I just...can’t articulate this properly so I apologize if this is kind of rambling 

‘We heard the sound of great blows struck. Out of the clouds we saw a sudden flame of fire. And then there was one piercing cry. But when we urged on our horses they reared and cast us to the ground, and they fled away wild. We lay upon our faces without strength; for suddenly the cloud came on and for a while we were blind. But it passed us and moved away north at great speed. Melkor was there, we do not doubt. But not he alone! Some other power  was with him, some huge evil: even as it passed it robbed us of all wit and will.’

Imagine what a Silm narrated entirely by Maedhros in this format would be. Hm. That’s another project for me to file away...

I have a very vested interest in horror, what makes things scary, what invokes dread, etc. I also am autistic and not always good at articulating these things so I apologize if this is kind of a mess. 

The sense of chaos and sheer wrongness is palpable here. I don’t know if this makes sense but the buzzing of the air with tension, the birds and insects and warm weather frogs have gone quiet, like a solar eclipse in a world that does not yet have the sun.  The forced cheerful but wary day of riding turning afoul when this cloud comes and screams are heard, the confusion, them being cast from their horses which have  and unable to move as this dreadful, ancient power draws nearer to them? I was talking with a very patient @cobaltjellyfish about this who said it very well; the Fëanorians were trapped as this horrifying entity passes by them and survive only because they are not directly in the way. 

A sense of dread, static atmosphere, trusted animals acting oddly and then violently, the light going out, helplessness induced as though by an otherworldly power

And then what they find when they finally reach home. 

I’m reminded of the frenzied energy of various horror films I like; watch the first thirty seconds of the trailer for A Field In England  and this is similar to the mood I get from this scene even if the context/story is completely different 

The Silmarillion says that Fëanor would have almost certainly been killed had he been at Formenos when Melkor arrived, indeed it was likely Melkor’s aim. (And Fëanor cursed also the summons of Manwë and the hour in which he came to Taniquetil, thinking in the madness of his rage and grief that had he been at Formenos his strength would have availed more than to be slain also as Melkor had purposed “The Flight of the Noldor”). We can’t say for certain what would have happened in hypotheticals that the author didn’t directly addresses but I have a hard time imagining that Melkor would have showed much mercy had the sons of Fëanor not gone out riding and had instead attempted to aid their grandfather. 

Also the mention of how the cloud that passes robs them of their wit and will. This is...intriguing to me. 

‘Darkness and blood! When we could move again we came to the house. There we found the king slain at the door. His head was crushed as with a great mace of iron. We found no others; all had fled and he had stood alone, defiant. That is plain; for his sword lay beside him, twisted and untempered as though by lightning strike. All the house was broken and ravaged. Naught is left. The treasures are empty. The chambers of iron are torn apart. The Silmarils are taken!’

So this is perhaps one of the few insights we get into how Maedhros reacts to a traumatic crisis, at least early on his in life. This is an incredibly coherent and detached description of finding the murdered body of your grandfather in a place that had not ever seen violent murder. That he had the presence of mind to get his brothers away from Formenos and go directly to where Manwë was is pretty impressive! Especially in the dark! I can imagine what that journey must have been like, not knowing who or what is still lurking out there

and to think of Finwë’s last stand against this shadow of his childhood who has now haunted him across two continents, who’s evil deeds he has known from the very beginning, who started as a shapeless horror that stole away his kin in the dead of night and became this knowable threat he still couldn’t escape....

I’m also wondering how Maedhros knew what the injuries of a mace look like, or even what a mace is at all. 

And Melkor wrecked the whole house! Killing Finwë was likely unnecessary, he could have almost certainly cast him aside, knocked him unconscious, etc. @promin-blog says that Melkor probably became enraged when another member of that family denied him entry and I think they’re right. 

Anyways this is a fascinating scene! 

[sunder-soul]

first of all your work is AMAZING- like damn that smut? 👀 but anyway- i’ve had this concept for awhile imagine that reader was the one who made the design for the dark mark for tom riddle? like y/n is an artist and likes to draw, paint, all that jazz, and she saw the symbol in like her dreams or something and decided to draw it. and then tommy boy sees it and takes a liking to it like, “...i could use that-“ i don’t if this is a weird ask or not but i thought it was interesting. 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

So this has been in my inbox for so long bc I just couldn’t crack how I wanted to tackle it and then yesterday BOOM I had an idea so here I am!! Hope you enjoy  💖

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. 

Consume

Summary: Reader looks into Tom Riddle’s tea leaves on an unlucky day in Divination. Something looks back.

Word count: 1.5k

Content warning: none.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You’ve heard of the domino effect before, but never has it been so grimly demonstrated to you than in that exact moment standing in front of the entire Divination classroom with the only spare seat left opposite Tom bloody Riddle.

It started (or at least, as far as you can tell) an entire week earlier when you’d walked in on Ophelia Greengrass sobbing in the fourth-floor girl’s bathroom during second period. Up until then you’d not spoken more than half a dozen words to Ophelia across your entire time at Hogwarts, but it had felt wrong not to say anything – and as it turned out, Ophelia had been in dire need of someone saying something to her. She’d been dating Lestrange for a little over three months and by the sounds of it things were not going well.

So of course you’d comforted her as best you could but it was hardly surprising when she tentatively approached again you the next day, and the next, and the next, and then every single day for an entire week there had been a new horror story until yesterday you’d finally had enough and told her that she should break up with him.

That, of course, was why he’d confronted you in the corridor that morning on the way to Charms, angrily accusing you of losing him his girlfriend. And that was why you and Lestrange had been caught by Peeves with a watering can full of Bulbadox juice brandished gleefully in his spindly hands.

Which was how you both ended up in the hospital wing for the entirety of first period, Lestrange with boils all over his face and down his back, and you with them on your hands from where you’d managed to shield yourself.

You’d left Lestrange behind complaining loudly as the matron peeled back his school shirt, sprinting all the way up to the Divination tower at breakneck speed, throwing the trapdoor to the classroom open and scrambling inside, the trapdoor falling shut behind you, the very final domino.

“Sorry I’m late, Professor,” you gasp as you spin around to face her. “Peeves caught me and Lestrange!”

The class snickers.

“That’s quite alright, quite alright…” Cassandra Trelawney says, deep and ringing, “we have not yet started, take a seat with Mr Riddle and we shall begin…”

You freeze. Riddle…?

That’s when it hits you.

Lestrange always sat with Riddle in Divination.

And you’re so late that everyone else already has partners.

You turn to see Tom Riddle sitting at the back of the room looking at you with a polite but blank expression on his face. The class giggles again. The vast majority of Hogwarts students are at least somewhat in love with Riddle – beautiful, intelligent, polite Riddle, orphaned and poor but refined and successful. Better yet he barely speaks to anyone, leaving a lot of empty space of endless possibility for people to fill in with their personal daydreams.

He scares you.

Those horrible boys that hang around him remind you of flies hanging around rotting meat. And if they’re the flies, that makes Riddle…

You grit your teeth and step forward, weaving between the other tables and snickering students to take your seat, dropping your bag to the floor and eyeing the tea set on the small table apprehensively.

“Begin your readings!” Trelawney calls.

You frown and turn to Riddle questioningly. “We’re doing tea leaves?”

“Tasseography,” he corrects smoothly, leaning forward and picking up the burnished copper pot with one hand and pouring steaming tea into the little china cup in front of him.

You blink at him silently. There’s something manufactured about his face that you can’t put your finger on.

“Shall I go first or would you like to?” Riddle asks casually, pouring you a cup, too.

“I don’t mind,” you mumble, looking away.

Riddle sets the pot down and picks up his cup in long, elegant fingers, lifting it to his lips. “The instructions are on page seventy-nine,” he says after taking a sip, looking around the room disinterestedly.

You pull out your book and find the right chapter and scan the first few paragraphs as Riddle finishes his tea, sipping absently at your own, and by the time he finally hands you his cup your heart rate has finally returned to normal from running up eight flights of stairs.

“You have a scattered-type formation,” you say, checking it against the diagram on your page, “and it’s north-west oriented.”

“Mhmm,” Riddle says noncommittedly, his dark eyes level on the parchment before him as he takes notes.

You lean forward over Riddle’s cup and frown as you compare it to the pictures in the book. “That looks like shepherd’s crook,” you say, pointing to a cluster shaped like a pinched hook, “which means… either the responsibility to protect, or the exertion of power and authority over a group of people.”

Riddle scoffs very lightly, his lips curling into a slight smirk as he continues to write.

Something about it had clearly struck a chord with him, but you pointedly train your eyes back on your book. “Oh,” you frown, checking his cup again. “Or it’s the old glyph for seven.”

Riddle stops writing. You look up curiously at the sudden lack of his quill scratching evenly on his parchment to find him perfectly still, his eyes on your face. “Seven?” he repeats, tone distinct.

You nod and push your book around to show him. “The number seven used to be drawn like that, too.”

Riddle’s eyes drop to the page and linger there for a moment before he resumes taking his notes – though his expression is much more preoccupied than before.

But something in Riddle’s cup has caught your eye. Beside the shepherd’s crook/number seven is a lump of tea leaves so distinct in form that it’s almost comical – the round of the cranium, the square of a mandible, and gaps in the leaves to indicate two eye sockets.

“Oh,” you say in surprise, pulling your book back around. “Wow, that’s pretty clearly a…”

You trail off, frowning. You’ve noticed the tea leaves below it, the long twisting trail that leads directly into the skull’s mouth. A cold, creeping feeling is curling in your stomach as something about the image before you seems to move, you can almost see the thing writhing, it almost looks like a…

“How are we going?” Trelawney asks, suddenly right beside you.

You jump, looking up at her in panic. “Fine,” you say quickly.

She lifts her brows, assessing you thoughtfully. “Hmm,” she says, before glancing at Riddle. “And you?”

“Fine,” Riddle echoes smoothly. But he’s not looking at Trelawney.

He’s looking at you.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The image worms into your thoughts like a deep root, twisting into places you don’t expect to find it and spreading itself out more and more. The dreams are first, and then the nightmares, and finally the night terrors. The skull hovers before you, its pitch, hollow eyes bore into you, the snake coiling endlessly with its fangs yawning wide.

Something about it is cold and evil, some sort of strange perversion of an ouroboros, the eternal snake broken by the skull’s mouth.

Consuming it.

“What is that?”

Your head snaps up from your parchment feeling like you’ve just been jolted awake from a deep sleep, and it takes you a second to process the sight of Tom Riddle before you, his eyes fixed attentively on the parchment strewn on top of the essay you’re supposed to be writing.

He’d caught you drawing it for the hundredth time.

“Nothing,” you say hastily, sliding it away under a book. “Just a doodle.”

Riddle’s eyes flick to yours. There’s a cold rigidity to his expression that you don’t like. It’s a coldness that feels horribly familiar.

For a moment you almost think he’s going to force you to show him, but after a long moment Riddle looks away and he’s gone, disappearing off further into the library. You exhale in relief and pull out the parchment again.

Drawing it made the thoughts go away for a bit, like manifesting the horrible thing distracted it from its need to live in your head. You lift your quill and carefully write a single word next to the skull.

Consume.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The parchment goes missing the next day.

You never prove that he took it, never even mention it to him, but Riddle’s eyes have a cold glimmer to them when he catches your eye in Divination next, the smallest curl to his lips like he’s daring you to bring it up.

The dreams abruptly stop.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

When you see it next, it’s in a photo on the front page of the Daily Prophet beneath a terrified headline, a spectre hovering just like it had in your nightmares at school years prior. Except this time it’s real. This time it’s above the burning remains of the family home of a prominent Muggle-born politician and Voldemort’s name is a shadow on everyone’s lips.

You stare at it on the page, the snake writhing in ink, the black, hollow eyes of the skull, and you think about Tom Riddle’s cold smile watching you from across the classroom, his manufactured beauty, the boys that hung around him like flies around rotten meat.

He’s named it the Dark Mark.

[captainkurosolaire]

~ Mass Update ~

Mainly going into future plans and intents alongside ideas below cut.

Ton's of things I've in store this will prove difficult to vent it all out. But here we go... First off rehashing and appropriately learning to tag and organize things better on my blog. Each category will have their own corresponding content, I seek to bring or share. [Tales of Goldbrand] -- I intend this to carry a Compendium of all my writes soon that'll have everything neatly in-order including a glossary, so it'll have highlights of stories that even matter or the best stuff. I've written here for a very, long time, there's been many shifts. I want to make it more accessible. While coloring what matters for people who want to learn Captain or his Crew with less chapters. While also giving choice to find it all easily. This is essentially a step-above master-lists. I'll be doing that after the Saga I have going on, right now is done. [Captain] -- Will provide you strictly with Captain screenshots, gifs, photo-sets. This is still his blog despite the Crew thing's will sort of make this a scuffed Multi-Muse blog. I've few more things to edit and tag fix to get all his stuff though. [The Wild Crew] -- Afterwards this story is done Immortal Age Saga, It's something that I mainly wrote as a passion project within three days to get my warm-up process fixed. It's to allow me to get a feel for all his Crewmates and casts, in combat, in-general, to feel their presences. While also giving a bit of their backstories. At any point, I can go back and polish or tweak things in. They're NPC's but... not entirely. All will have their own 'Dreams' and their own 'Disapproval's' they have their own missions even. These things will factor eventually, they might set seeds, to betray or disagree with something, but that's all angst and more stories to be created, but overall, they'll probably always be Crew, eventually. -- I plan on making character-profile sheets of them and putting them in this Tab, it'll have their screenshots, their likes/dislikes. Some RP partners or people can also be shipped with them, but they'll all be monogamous and originally start off probably Pan. This allows them to figure out what they like on their own stories. I've always been someone who likes organic-flow. Although this one story contain all 16 characters or more, the rest will probably be shortened to a Squad of 4 and dispersed when on adventuring missions. Until I do a War Arc, that's my main goal to build too. [Roster] -- Will contain this Crew in just screen-sets dedicated to them, I'll probably randomly produce those. I've PC players among this Crew too. I may not be done either adding more, but this Crew is mainly built around Quality. Most pirate crew's mainly, have hundreds, thousands. Even Fleets. This Crew has personalities, monsters, people who are living life's that exist with piracy. He's an particular leader that had PC players the same way, he's had split-personality serial killers aboard, tribal chieftains, succubus, all sorts of various people once on a Crew. It's often an outcast style, pirates default are chaotic in nature, so this really isn't any different, it's a Fantasy version of it. There's humanization characters aboard too though, so this cast is really decked, everything and person is vital, they matter because they remind or covet something that others can draw upon. If ever played (Three Houses or Mass Effect / Dragon Age Origins) A lot of things like that are relatable too this structure and format. Which, Is something I want to be able to give when RPing. I want a genuine feel of this new world someone else's muse will be the main-character too. Depending on what's interacting everything they'll be scale appropriately to follow the genre they're in and environment even. [Aesthetics] -- Already explainable what you'll find here. [Asks] -- Same thing. [Prompts] -- Trivial things I was tagged too, I plan on compiling later. [Writing] -- Another alternatively to randomly go-down and it works right now. [Logs] -- Will have more individualistic master-lists and posts there, my poems from Sheik Sphere the Bard, etc.

Things of that nature, I'll probably add still. It's where a lot of my creative writing is summed. [Gems of Hydaelyn] -- My main #tag for other characters and artists, creationist. Lot of amazing people easily to find their zones or follow them optionally if you like. Ton's I intend to support and bolster, be a lot less unspoken. I'm never the type who's been strictly inclusive. But I'll do that when I've time to even explore the dash, I'm always still planning ahead with things and projects. [CKS] My original character-sheet it's outdated on something's but not too terrible. I'll give him polishing someday, I swear? [21+F-List] -- Just purely degenerate stuff of Captain. I'm a pirate blog. I will represent that with openness and furthermore. I'm never projecting you some false-image. I started off a smut-writer by stripping that, I no-longer represent the same aura and identity. But those are strictly his stuff and kinks, I'm effective in executing them but they're not all relatable to me OOC. This blog will always be 18+ containing crude or dark material sometimes, romantic things, this Captain is blunt, will literally put his cock on the table in conversations. Swearing and being censored would be too uncommon and displace most of him, but there's more about him then all this. [Other] -- I pay homage to a lot of characters, I originally am a Concept Designer. Which mean's I make characters and ideas like my addiction. Bad characters / villains or other little things I like to share in designs, I'll put there. Some villains might get little photo-sets, even if they died. Just cause I like their design, or maybe I'll give them an AU, where they won. When I've wrapped up things. [Collabs + Ships] -- Is a new project idea. This isn't going to be something limited too romantic only ships. It'll contain, platonic, romantic, friendships, rivals, frenemies, family, PC Crew, all ships. I am desperately working on improving my gif, screenshot, posing game so I can supply 'Screen Stories' this is not only a way to RP that's accessible with even people who are upon time-crunches from work, It gives visual-representation. To impactful stories shared with others and establish bonds. That are all-valid and impactful matter. Lot of people take a lot of their characters attributes into them and are them dialed up, I work with that and bit more, differently. I'm disconnected from my characters and they'll get hurt and injured and killed by me, that's my duty as their Author to give them conflicts and struggles. I'm their major antagonist, but that doesn't mean at-all, it's always SET that way. The characters I like to make have their own life, they live in this setting and are abide by it, they're often nothing, nobodies, and by the interacting with others, they slowly gradually building, more... Through emotional impacts, they alter, these are REAL people by all their beliefs. Each person they come in-contact with are legitimate and treated like that too. They've always impacted or given them insights to grow, or represent more. Otherwise it'd be criminally disrespectful if I allowed any emotional I felt OOC be the grudge to something IC. Captain in-particular is set on defying me. I cannot have that. ...But I can't stop him. He's met and encountered so many people and lived so many scenarios based on the actions of others, he's giving a chance right now to actually do things a lot further than impossible. The more people he meets and encounters, experiences, the more I lose. These stories are emotionally interactive where everything is a factor and adds to the dice, where the other people are the one who get to roll the dice for him, not me. That's something I want to color in. People range in emotions, they have their down's, ups, their own wholesome-grounding people, spending time with your favorite people, there's nothing more cherishing than that, being in your own comfort-zone or 'safe-space' these are all treasures that we live under, today. Contrary if what people assume of me, I'm not another 'blogger' that's came

before, who's wanting to force a harem, then constantly is bewildered when that falls to pieces cause of selfishness or a lack of communication, or the skeletons they have in their closets and beliefs they hid behind and swindled fooled everyone. I'm not looking to be popular or anything really, I just create stories and want to share in those, and I want to also boost others included, upward with me, especially those who make me. There's no ego in anything I do, this is purely love. I've never cared about being replicated or duplicated, I've had stalkers, I've gone through more then anyone would imagine, I've been used OOC and abused, just for my writing and cold-harshly told, i'd never amount to anything other then that or vice-versa. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Passion. That's all I got and am anymore. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Passion is the hardest thing to keep. It's something that can be stolen, quite effortlessly. Few words of discouragement, a bad negative representation, a lack of confidence, or small amount of time, there's many thing's that can put that flame out. Once you lose it. The difficulty to reattain is hundred-times harder than climbing any mountain for real. I've watched the greatest creators crumble from under the pressure, from beaten down by others. I watched many of them do it to themselves because they put a grand vision of needing validation of another and once lost, felt uncompelling to press onward. But passion also can be given BACK and drawn. It can be shown and encourage others, with a soft-triggering, that pushes them. That motivates, that constantly sticks to it. There are many that fuel me. If I ever quit, I let them down, I spit in the faces of people who're better than me in every-way. Or people who've came and given me their precious Time. That have given their character's or dedication to the abundant stories and community-driven things I've done. There's ONLY things you can do, create, give and provide. It cannot ever come to life without YOU. This is a fact. ...I swear, If you let your creativity soar, you'll be amazed by the heights you get. Constantly polish and learn and hone the best you, challenge yourself day after painstaking day, to draw better improvement on something, no matter how trivial or unfamiliar you are. You'll find a confidence only you can give yourself. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Future Plans --------------------------------------------------------------------- For me, I've got so much more stories to give and also explore, I might be taking up soon some other artists and more skilled people from community and hire them for some of my future writes, to up my game or cause something thing's can't be done in-game cause no background carries it. I also got a lot of-set up things and more angst stuff I want to practice, plus I'm adamantly on that grind to produce screen-sets with the intent's to some sort of improving daily. Additionally more people I'll be reaching out too soon for these collab's ideas and things. I look forward to shaking your hands, giving some hugs, show you my respect and admiration, then creating some enchanting stories and giving plots light. Feel free to reach out to me, I get scattered-brain but I'm working on getting better about it. Eventually will get to you though, my goals, if uninterested just say so when I poke, no bites, unless you kinky. Anyways, cheers hearties.

[hornsandthings]

Umm hi I don’t know if you still take ACOTAR requests anymore but if you do can I request an azriel x reader where he’s in love with her and is afraid of rejection but he doesn’t know that she loves him too? 👉🏻👈🏻

hi nonnie, i’ll always accept an acotar request, hehe! did this in headcanon form, hope you don’t mind <3 it’s quite long and a little rough around the edges, but i hope you like it! ps. tumblr mucked up the formatting, some dot points don’t want to be indented. i hope it still makes sense x 

when your and azriel’s paths crossed, it was the mother at work again. after mor, azriel didn’t think he’d ever have the strength for love again. the aching and the pining had taken their toll, and the appeal of the mating bond had faded. to feel it all again, to risk his heart like that again - he couldn’t. and yet, the mother saw fit that he would. 

+++

he first met you in the palace of hoof and leaf, and it didn’t mean anything at the time; a stranger’s kindness, or if he indulged his cynicism, a hawker’s ploy. you were a commoner, a milkmaid who came to sell your products in the markets. he’d been at the neighbouring stall, waiting for the clerk to put together the only tea brew in prythian that could placate his migraines.

“sir, mr. shadowsinger, sir,” you called, “could i offer you a sample of my goat’s milk? maggie-may is very special, her milk can be just as good as a healer’s work, i swear it. try it, try it, sir.” 

azriel looked you over, glad that cassian wasn’t here to make that particular moniker stick. one brow raised in dubiety, he nodded and held out his hand - might as well, he thought, tired and getting ever more desperate for his tea. this didn’t show outwardly, of course; azriel’s face was as neutral as ever, his shadows coiling about his talons. your gaze was expectant as he tried the sample, and while it was a little too earthy for his taste, he nodded all the same. perhaps it had encouraged you too much, because then you asked: “could i perhaps persuade you to buy a pint?”

azriel had no interest at all, yet he couldn’t help but notice the detail: your fraying sleeves, the imperfect glass bottles, the beginnings of dark circles under your eyes. and yet you were smiling, you were sweet, being very generous for someone who had to presumably make a living selling fresh products. not for the first time, azriel made a purchase that only someone of the inner circle could afford, and one that didn’t really benefit him. “i’ll take several,” he said, looking at the handful of wooden caddies, mostly still filled with milk bottles. “i’ll take it all.” 

the clerk then handed azriel his brew while you stood there, wide-eyed and speechless, working through a range of emotions. at first you thought he was mocking you, but when he turned around again, fiddling with his coin pouch, you realised he was serious. “but, sir— maggie-may’s milk sure is delicious, but only in moderation— i couldn’t expect someone to buy it all—”

“as much as you’d let me, then,” he amended, being mindful not to impose or patronise. you bit your lip, trying to tally up the ultimate price, trying to gauge whether this man could even afford it. two gold, you said, trying your luck. azriel merely fingered his coins, placing the expected two and an additional three on the counter. he must’ve noticed your shock; you had frozen, after all, perhaps even stopped breathing. “since maggie-may is so special,” he drawled, earning a disbelieving laugh from you. 

that night, cerridwen, nuala, and elain were very confused at the sight of bottles and bottles of milk laying in wait on the kitchen counter in the house of wind. the note - clearly by azriel’s neat hand - read: use within five days.

+++

from then on, you always engaged azriel when you spotted him in the market. you could never forget his generous first purchase, and so while he waited for the tea master to finalise his special brew, you would entertain him with an endless supply of free samples of new products. over the years, azriel saw your business extend from milk to also include cheese and soap. he learned unnecessary things about your cattle, such as the supposed social dynamics and - mother forbid - adultery that mr. sweet pea the goat seemed prone to. over time, azriel grew comfortable enough to share some of his stories and observations, the things he’s seen in other courts. it took a while to realise you had become more than his mere acquaintance, and perhaps it was because you were outside his usual spheres of the inner circle and his spy network. to have someone outside was new, and a little jarring at times. the different experiences, the contrasting perspectives - it was refreshing, and reminded azriel how far he’d come since his miserable youth. when he was with you, the stakes weren’t so high, the conditions not so dire. you were a spot of calm, a reminder that life could be something other than the court’s defense. 

+++

one time when he visited - his tea no longer a requisite for him to make an effort to come in - you were noticeably subdued. “mr. sweet pea passed away,” you revealed, eyes wet and voice thick. something about that seized his heart, his shadows growing restless. “he was so special.” you actually said that about each of your cattle, something that azriel had started to find endearing, because he knew you really believed it.

social tact was not a strength of his - azriel knew he tended to be rigid and too formal - so he stumbled over some stilted condolences. it felt awkward and impersonal; azriel couldn’t empathise with the death of a pet, but he wanted to make it hurt less. he still remembered what the late goat had looked like the last time you had brought him in - an old thing, with a long beard and a mix of brown and black fur. strong, impressive horns, one which had a sizeable chip missing. 

so that night, he did what he could and sketched that image he had in his mind, of mr. sweet pea looking very wise and ponderous, if a little tired. azriel’s time as spymaster had bestowed him a keen eye and dexterous fingers, allowing him to make the necessary sketches to give his colleagues a clearer picture when necessary - of maps, of creatures, of profiles. they tended to be a little rough and raw, nothing particularly artistic. he thought the same of his current piece, and hesitated over whether it was good enough.

when he finally gave you the sketch the next day, you went very still. he started stumbling over some excuses, but you soon interrupted him with a shaky breath. “this is so thoughtful, azriel. thank you so much.” 

+++

azriel grew bolder, and interactions started to occur outside the markets. he’d invite you for tea, indirectly revealing one of his interests. he was a hard man to read, his expressions subtle when not stoic, but you learned. outside of professional matters, he was rarely straightforward, and tended to express his emotions in delicate, layered ways. his care for you was in the way he listened, how his attention never wavered when you were speaking with him. it was how he kept you close when you two navigated busy streets, how he lifted a wing over your head for cover when it rained, how he was content to spend time with you at your stall - sometimes for hours - despite his preference for quietude. 

+++

when work took him away, you two would exchange letters. azriel didn’t realise how dangerous a thing it was, because you quickly became a very intimate and constant part of his life. the act of writing tricked him, making it easier to truly express his thoughts - there was no pressure of navigating the immediate reaction, no incentive to keep his words short. you managed to draw so much out of him. he was mindful of each letter of yours he received, keeping them safe and tied together with an old ribbon of yours he’d saved before you could throw it away. he would never admit it, but work abroad tended to be overwhelming: while secure in his network’s quality of intelligence, being in another’s territory always meant having to deal with various variables and vulnerabilities, usually unknown. maybe your letters would have made it all a little more manageable if they didn’t elicit such longing within him. your words made him smile, yes, but they also made his heart ache. he missed you.

+++

after a lengthy assignment in the dawn court, azriel was relieved to be back in velaris. his shadows swirled and whispered around his shoulders, eager to feel your presence too. he knew they fascinated you, how playful they could be sometimes. yet, azriel couldn’t find you at your empty market stall. it was odd - you hadn’t mentioned moving in your recent letters, and he couldn’t find you in any of the other market squares either. soon his shadows grew restless, embodying the concern that was rising.

he employed his spy network to find your farm, hoping it wouldn’t be too intrusive to just show up unannounced. you had mentioned some details in passing before - it was a modest place, with a small house and a meagre hill of grass to feed a handful of goats and sheep. the door was answered by two worried faces, who took one look at azriel and grew even more distressed. “our son— it’s not our son, is it? it can’t be— he just—”

“i’m here to see your daughter,” azriel interrupted, too preoccupied to remember polite niceties. they were confused, guarded, but let him through. the hallways were narrow, his wings often knocking against the wall sconces. he listened as they explained your condition - an illness had befallen you, leaving you bedridden for days. apparently a healer had told them it’ll pass with rest and water, and with that reassurance, azriel forced himself to remember his place. right in front of your closed door, he willed his shadows away from his face, called upon his familiar impassiveness. turning around to face your parents, he amended, “may i see your daughter?” 

your room was dark, the curtains drawn. his heart raced as he heard your laboured breaths, and something pulled at him when he saw the small desk in the corner, an unfinished letter atop it. “azriel?” you whispered, voice sounding so small. “is it really you?” 

he neared, taking a cautious seat on the side of the bed. you were shivering, but the thin sheet covering you stuck to your skin with sweat. “yes, it’s me, sweetheart,” he said, the endearment slipping out before he could stop it. his throat closed up immediately after, but your vague movements suggested you didn’t even realise, and that you weren’t all there. he could see the feverish blush high on your cheeks, even in the dim light.

“you’re too big for this room,” you mused softly, making azriel smile despite his worry. indeed, he had to bend down to avoid hitting his head, and keep his wings tucked in uncomfortably tight. he took your hand in his, and even in your feverish haze, you could register the roughness of his scarred hands, but they always handled you gently. “why didn’t you tell me in your letters?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. your discomfort was clear in your frown, in your downturned lips. noticing the basin on the bedside table, he took the damp rag on your forehead and dipped it into the cool water, wringing away the excess before gently placing it atop your head again. 

“i… didn’t want to trouble you with… with something trivial. a few more days and… and i’ll be back to work.” a weak smile pulled at your mouth, and azriel gathered both of your hands in his again. he shook his head at your line of thinking.

“your health isn’t a trivial matter to me,” he said, leaning close and cupping your cheek. in hindsight, it was so obvious that he had been in love with you far longer than he thought. it was all so rueful, the fact that he had let it happen again. despite it all, he pressed a kiss to your hand, trying to ignore how it trembled. your smile strengthened then, tracing a finger over his brow and down the bridge of his nose. azriel took a deep breath to savour the touch, and soon you two were merely watching each other, azriel wondering what thoughts were running through your slightly added mind. your lids eventually started to droop, however, but still he stayed even when you fell asleep, taking care to change the cool rag when necessary. his shoulders slumped when his head fell into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut tight. with such a revelation, what was he to do from now on? 

+++

azriel didn’t think he could be a good lover to you - even if he so very much wanted to be. his job took up so much of time, and it required him to be secretive. azriel wouldn’t ever be able to share everything with you, for the sake of keeping you safe. even if he could, there was just something in his nature that kept him reserved and pushed others away. there were so many things he’d rather leave in the past, and so many more that he wished he hadn’t been part of. there was that, but also his loathsome scarred hands - a reminder of those darker days. no matter how gentle, his touch would always scratch and scrape. once you took notice of how neglected they were, left to dry out and sometimes even scab, you took to work to concoct a nourishing lotion. “you have to be gentle with yourself, azriel,” you had once told him, gently applying the salve to his hands. they were rough but warm against your skin. “you do so much.”

+++

and so, everything he did with you was tinged with a hint of sorrow. he couldn’t bring himself to confront you with the severity of his feelings, but he also couldn’t quite remove you from his life - you had become a friend. you eventually noticed that he started to let his touches linger: when he hugged you, he’d curl arms and wings around you, enveloping you wholly; when you were near, his shadows would stretch toward you, as if revealing a hidden desire. when you reached for his hand, he would always grip it firmly, and when you came very close for some unimportant reason, his gaze would always linger on your face, flicking so often to your lips. 

+++

one night you had invited him over to the farm, wanting to introduce him to the latest addition of your household: a baby goat, just over a week old. she was as white as snow, and kept nibbling at your hair as you held her in your arms. “what should we name her, azriel?” you had asked, too preoccupied to notice how tense he was, hands in his pockets. “i was thinking of marjorie, or maybe miss marjorie… hey, what’s wrong?” his face was unusually expressive, his shadows roiling about his talons as if in distress. putting down the goat, her legs still clumsy and gangly, you stepped closer to azriel, reaching out. he shook his head, trying to school his face but you knew him by now. your shoulders slumped, recalling his strange behaviour over the years - he was present in most ways, but avoidant in others. “i wish you’d talk to me, azriel,” you murmured, taking his hand and hoping he wouldn’t mind the dirt. “you mean so much to me.”

it all bubbled up then in that small barn, the light dim and the smell of earth pungent. you let out a rueful laugh, rubbing your eye. “i’m in love with you,” you said, very quietly at first. immediately you felt so naive to be doing this. the fact was that azriel came from a different life, one that saw him as a leader of the court, who worked with powerful and beautiful people, fae who were richer and stronger and vastly more interesting. azriel’s mere presence in your life was extraordinary enough. and yet, you had found yourself falling in love despite the impracticability of it, found yourself admiring his kindness, his quiet generosity, his strength and resilience and dry humour. you shifted, looking right into his eyes. even if your love was unrequited, he deserved to be told - if only to let him know that he indeed was loved by one more.  “i’m in love with you. i don’t— i don’t expect you to say it in return, but i can no longer keep it to myself. i love you.” 

that threw azriel. he had fantasised of course, indulged in the scenario. but now, as you waited for his response, his thoughts stuttered. what? he wanted to say, unable to believe what he actually so very desperately wanted to believe. you grew nervous as the silence lengthened, azriel’s face as stoic as ever. you shook your head, covering your mouth in regret. “i’m sorry, i— i shouldn’t have said anything—”

he gripped your shoulders tight, gaze intense and voice low. “i also love you.”

“why do you say it like it’s a bad thing?” the solemnity which had tinged your relationship for some time was subtle, but you had felt it, and it had bothered you. 

azriel’s hands came up to cup your face, and he quickly shook his head. “it’s not,” he said, he urged. “it’s not, it’s not.” and then his lips met yours, chapped and rough, kissing you slowly, thoroughly, firmly. the conviction made your heart melt, and you gripped his wrists, feeling his racing pulse and caressing it, kissing him back, standing on your toes, letting him steal your breath. “i love you so much, sweetheart,” he sighed against your lips, nose brushing against yours. you went to reply but then azriel had claimed your mouth again, one hand snaking around to your back and the other to the nape of your neck. the light shifted behind your closed eyes as his wings came down to envelope the both of you, and your fingers reached to tangle in his hair, to trace the shells of his ears.

when you two parted again, his grin was lopsided and a little wry. “i just couldn’t believe it,” he murmured, his eyes shining with emotion. why not? you wanted to ask, wondering what it was that had held him back for so long, but decided to delay it for another day. all you could do was hug him tighter, just glad for the sight of his smile and the feeling of his relief. glad for his happiness.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Young and Dumb | Part 2

“I believe I first met you in my parents’ pharmacy. I’m sure you don’t need the map to find it, everyone has the knowledge of where it is.  I was helping my mum restock the shelves, and you came in with a black hoodie and sunglasses on. Obviously, you didn’t want to be recognised, or maybe you did, who knows.

I asked if there was anything you needed help with, and your eyes went wide behind the expensive frames. From your posture, it was clear that you were unsettled by something. This something meant a lot to you, and you were nervous in telling me, a stranger.

It had only been the first week or two of school since I moved, so I didn’t blame you for that. The blame comes later on in this story. But I took an interest in you, not when you were getting all of that attention that you seemed to draw instantly when you walked through the halls of school, but when you were trying your best to avoid any of it.

I know that you knew who I was, you knew Justin, and Zach… and Bryce. You also seemed to become Jessica’s new bestie when we split ways, in a strange way, when the two of you connected, I felt as though you had stolen something from me.

But again, it was her choice to invite you to her house to study, and invite her to the parties that she threw. Courtney even told me that Jess always asked you what she should wear before they started, and now I understand how her fashion had improved significantly.”

Clay paused the tape as Tony pulled up beside him, and the teenager instinctively threw the door open and climbed into the passenger’s side. He pushed the headphones down to his neck as he looked at his friend, who appeared to be studying him far too closely for his liking.

“What?” He breathed, throwing his head back into the seat of the vehicle. Everyone was watching him, they had all had the tapes before him, so they knew that he was listening to their sins. And then also, they knew his. Both sides held the ammunition, even more so since he had yet to discover the case against him.

“Which tape are you on?” Tony was blunt, but he had an idea as he saw Clay’s interest as you walked out of the front doors, Jess on one side and Sheri on your other. It had to be one of you three, yet he was aware of how slow Clay was processing each record of information.

“12 side A.” He answered, his blue eyes drilling into you as you threw your head back in laughter. It wasn’t fair that you had the ability and will to do that after everything, Hannah was still waiting to be buried. Sometimes people were too inconsiderate of those who were lower down on the social food chain than them.

“Don’t judge her before you hear the entire tape. It’s complicated, and messy, and Hannah was not the only victim.” That intel made Clay’s eyes widen in fear. There had been another victim exposed on this tape, and it was disgusting, cruel. Evil.

“Not like Jess was?”

“God no. Thank God no.” Tony answered, looking in his side mirror as you walked away, and joined your boyfriend in his car. “But you better buckle up Clay, that side of the tape is long. Hannah sure had a lot of things to say about (Y/N), some good. Others not so much…”

Clay took out the tape from the player and inserted it in the car. If it was complicated, then Tony could explain it to him. He would still get mad and require a word in private with you, but he needed another opinion. One from an outsider, from someone who didn’t know Hannah as well, although, admittedly Clay didn’t know as much about her as he would have liked to have thought.

“That day though, when we first met gave me the impression that you didn’t thrive off of all of the attention. You liked your alone time, which I could relate to, more than anyone would know. It made me think that no one knew the real you, but I wanted to.

‘Can I help with anything?’ I asked, expecting you to be confident like you were with answers in class, but instead you wrung your hands, and your mouth opened repeatedly, trying to find words but somehow you had lost them. ‘(Y/N).’ I said, which caught your attention finally.

Your disguise clearly had not worked, so you removed the shades, but the hood stayed up. I was relieved to see the lack of a black eye or tears, I knew from then on that you just felt awkward. This was not a predicament that you had found yourself in before.

‘Actually, I’m looking for something’ It was more of a mumble that clear speech, but I still heard, and was happy that I did. I wanted to help, then maybe I could befriend you, and then change my image at Liberty.

‘What?’ Before you answered, you looked terrified, so I grabbed your hands and held them. It seemed to calm you a little, but you still had the instinct to look around to check for other people. My mum had went to the back to grab more stock, so it was just us. You and me, but now I speak this stood alone. There is no one here, just cold walls that don’t even want to move closer to me.

So, those of you who are listening, you can already tell that she created distance between me and her. I bet no one even knew that you had been a great support system once, until it was decided that we should keep our space.

‘Condoms.’ Was your quiet response, you appeared uncomfortable in saying it. At that time or before, I would have assumed that you had no problem with purchasing the contraception, seeing as everyone was far too familiar with you and Scott Reed in the hallways.

‘This way.’ I led you, and it got me thinking. Had you never bought a box before? Was it Scott’s duty that he had failed to uphold, and here you were, running in, when you were in the most need for one?

We got to the aisle, and you haphazardly stared at the selection of the stock. Your eyes were wide, and your mind was turning. ‘Are you okay?’

At my voice you smiled, looking back and forth between me and your necessity. And finally you told me your problem, which did not seem to be troublesome at all. But this was where it all started, it finishes somewhere very different. 

‘I, uh, don’t know which ones to get.’ You appeared embarrassed in confiding this in me, and it really did make me think that you left the buying of them to Scott, until... ‘Me and Scott have never... you know. This was supposed to be a surprise, clearly not a very good one if I don’t know what frickin condoms to but.’

You were definitely embarrassed, your hands were raking through your hair, and there were tears holding back in your eyes. My hand caressed your shoulder and convinced you to look at me.

‘You’re both virgins?’ I asked rather bluntly, and you nodded shamefully. But you had nothing to be ashamed of, even if the news did shock me. The two of you fooled me, and could have fooled anyone considering your relationship. ‘Hey, that’s not a bad thing.’ I was a virgin too, even if others were led to believe differently. ‘It’s all new to the both of you, he’ll love the surprise, and he’d be stupid not to.’

Maybe I shouldn’t have convinced you to go ahead with your plan, but I did anyway. In this moment, you seemed like a nice girl, one who needed guidance rather than the flocks of followers that you were prone to having.

I scanned the selection, and grabbed the most suitable brand. ‘These would be best, just normal, like this and eventually that exchange.’

Clay paused the record as he saw that were at his house. He was astounded by the news of how late you and Scott were to blossoming sexually. There was a large difference between the pair of you and your so called friends.

“Did you know?” The investigator asked Tony, revelling in the newfound, yet old gossip.

“Don’t judge a book by it’s cover Jensen.” He told him. The boy was in for a ride, it was a long tape, for some reason, the longest one.

A/N: Sorry for the formation, I couldn’t add a read more button or a pic. So it’s just like this x

[katyatalks]

Mob Psycho 100 Interview Translation - Character Designer Kameda Yoshimichi - Otome Visual 2017

Summary-style translation for Character Designer Yoshimichi Kameda’s 4 page interview from Otome Visual 2017, regarding elements in the creation of Mob Psycho 100 such as: what inspired this cover art, the influence of fan art in the anime’s creation, Tsubomi’s design, the process behind the package art for the DVDs, and more. Includes some genga. Under read more;

[TN: The reason why I elected to summarise this interview rather than do a full write up is because a lot of the information given gets covered in December 2016′s Animestyle010, in “The Making of Mob Psycho 100.” I typed that one out in full over on twitter but that’s a long interview, and I don’t have the time or energy to reformat it for Tumblr, but if you’re interested in a very in-depth look into how Mob Psycho 100′s anime came to be I’d really recommend checking it out. Direct quotes are given in “” here. Enjoy!]

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*~The genga illustration for Otome Visual’s cover~*

“With the recent popularity that Skating Anime has had, what’s this - a Shouwa idol collab?! It’s all in the little details in their clothing - their wrinkled shirts, white trousers, black belts - both around their waists and arms.”

*~Kameda’s comments~*

“Can you heaaaar me!! I am currently speaking directly into your braaaain!!! What I’m grateful for with this commission is I was able to design the cover in any way I’d like!! A cover is a reflection of current times, so, of course, I went for ice skating! You wouldn’t be able to find this kind of amazing content in any time period other than now! That’s what I first thought! Like, Mob Psycho 100!! If there’s not a certain Mob Psycho 100-ness present in the art then what’d be the point, so, the characters are being very serious but they’re also pretty laughable. I tried to create a piece of art from which you could hear their voices!!! What’s with it being Shouwa-esque?? Being lame is incredibly cool!!! Huh? Does that describe Mob Psycho 100?? Can’t answer that if you ask!!!! Please feel the amazing Paradise Ginga x Mob Psycho 100-ness here!!!!!!”

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Kameda describes how he wasn’t sure how best to adapt the manga into an anime format at first, since from the art he was shown he immediately knew it to be very unique - the idea of using Flash to animate the show was raised but quickly shot down

Originally, upon being asked about the show, he based his thoughts on what a web image search for Mob Psycho 100 gave him rather than having the actual manga in hand. “For the most part, the results that came back would be fanart (laughs). It’s a bit strange -  at that time, it was difficult to find art uploaded from the manga. If you could find anything, it’d just be art from the covers. So for the most part, an image search of Mob Psycho 100 would just bring you back fanart. A lot of that fanart would be… a shounen in a cool pose wearing a school uniform with smooth bobbed hair & sharp cat-like eyes, sort of like Hiei’s eyes (from Yu Yu Hakusho). Very different from the manga’s art. But when I looked at that art, I thought; this could work. Fanart is, fundamentally, ‘fans drawing what they like’, so I thought, ‘the anime having this kind of art would make the fans happy.’ Well, it didn’t work out that way, obviously. I was told the anime’s art should resemble that of the manga. (Laughs)”

He hadn’t read the manga so all he had for reference was art from volume 1 and the fanart he found online. “But I like things like spirits and urban legends, so seeing Dimple - a floating supernatural fiery ball - and being told the manga touches on the occult caused my interest to soar.”

Says that Teru is the easiest character for him to draw. “He’s overflowing with confidence, so it’s easy to put him into some cool poses. Mob and Ritsu in comparison, not so much. [...] With Reigen, he has a lot of poses that are like, he’s trying to look good. He takes a solid stance. I suppose Spirits & Such has such a shady air to it, and you have to hide that somehow, right? So, Reigen injects confidence into how he presents himself. A model-like stance.”

“The anime is faithful to the manga… ah, actually, Tsubomi-chan was changed with a ‘let’s make her more like a heroine’ conversation. So, I did so, but reading recent events in the manga I can’t picture her in her anime form (laughs). The manga’s Tsubomi isn’t much like a heroine, so I’ve found myself wondering, if we animate up until this part… just how will we approach it? The anime’s Tsubomi is so bright and sparkly, so she wouldn’t have snot hanging from her nose (vol.13 of manga), would she…? (Laughs). Perhaps we went a little too far with making her a heroine. Maybe, if we do season 2, we’ll turn her back into a normal girl (laughs). Well, Tachikawa-san is clever; I think he’ll find a way to make do with her current design.”

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Picture text: "This is Mezato's first appearance, so I decided to make her cute!! Thank you in advance!!"

Picture text: "That girl was telling me such a stupid story this morning... aidzuchi* isn't easy, you know... I'll just ignore her tomorrow..." [* sounds made to indicate that you're listening to someone speak]

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Asked about his favourite characters; “I love Mezato Ichi from the Newspaper Club. When I drew her in her character sheet in that pose where she’s holding her camera, I came to see her as being quite cute. So now I focus on her a lot; in fact, when I draw genga I sneakily choose the cuts that have her in them (laughs).”

“I also love Mob. Reigen stands out the most so your eyes naturally jump to him, but I love the balance that Mob has. His heads tall ratio... or rather, his face, and the way his body is proportioned? It makes him lovely. Ritsu is around the same height as Mob, but, how can I put this - the cuteness that Mob has, is lacking in Ritsu… due to the latter being quite standoffish, I suppose (laughs).”

Ritsu’s hair changing through the first season is discussed, and how it is purposefully shortened during the latter half. “I paid attention to making sure his hair was long especially while he was being possessed by Dimple. So it’d resemble thorns.”

“I feel Teru-kun is the most ‘yang’ of all the characters. The rest are more ‘yin’ in nature. Because of this, it’s easy to play around with his expressions - he’s fun to draw. Speaking in terms of Dragonball, he’s kind of like Mob Psycho 100’s Vegeta (laughs).”

“In episode 9, Dimple possesses one of Claw’s security guards, right? I don’t really understand why that security guard is so popular.” Q: What do you mean? “Because he’s just some middle-aged dude (laughs). He doesn’t even appear for long…”

After discussing the huge amount of SG!Dimple commissions received: “Unlike SG!Dimple, I don’t really get asked to draw Shou-kun. With this commission I thought to myself, I /have/ to include him here, and so I added him in. The initial brief excluded him.”

Asked about moments that stuck with him; “When Teru chokes Mob in episode 5. [...] Mob’s pained expression as he’s being choked is good, but Teru-kun’s face shows us… envy, jealousy, distress, anxiety.”

“Also, the ‘super real Reigen’ sequence from episode 12. The tension between Reigen and Sakurai is funny, but the art itself has had me laughing since production. It’s funny no matter how many times I look at it!”

Kameda’s idea to have the characters make number shapes for the volume art came from him watching ‘Tonneruzu no Minasan no Okage deshita’, specifically the ‘Mojimoji-kun’ segment of the show (where they try to make numbers from their bodies)

Volume 6’s cover art was first planned to have a whole ensemble of characters, but Kameda changed his mind on this - “if we do a second season, we can leave that for volume 12 (laughs).”

Volume 4's cover was originally planned to feature only Onigawara and Gouda, but Kameda found himself wanting to include the rest of the body improvement club

Regarding the pose we see on vol 6’s package art, “My original thoughts for that cover were to have Reigen and Mob in a ‘hell wheel’ pose, like, Mob pulling Reigen’s legs and arms… but that wouldn’t be very fitting for the final volume.”

His message to the readers; “Thank you for your support! With sales, the ‘this is popular!’ message gets conveyed, and the more support you give us, then there’s no doubt we’ll be able to produce season 2 and season 3!! Season 2 relies on your support. It’s in your hands - thank you!!”

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Crossposted on twitter here.