#if you don't like space westerns you're what

[monstrouscrew]

feeding on these desserts and symbols. no love, no problem ~ (yes Sailor Mercury was my fav inner planet Sailor. i think she still is, despite also having crushes etc. in the story)

(all IDs in the alt text)

(run, just run)

Echo R. Tam knows that strawberries are priceless. if you watched Firefly, you know it too :)

..at least two of (us the crew) like a lot of flowers. and i like my plush Artie. why not a rose, then.

and this claw is for waving at others. keeping my head above the poisonous waters until i die.

[vxsellie]

KINDLY, DARLIN' - 𝐸.𝑊

summary. after seemingly endless days on the road, you find yourself at a random country bar in the middle of nowhere. entering with the sole goal of getting your hands on come kind of alcohol, your attention is soon drawn elsewhere. to a girl and her guitar. notes. ok funny story! this idea came to me from a 5 sec interaction i had with a complete stranger. i went out to a bar, gave ten bucks to the singer, & he said the line that the title is based off of , which the prompted my brain to conjure up an entire love story (he's prob double my age lets be so fr) Also! idk if any of u will like this comparison (if not, just ignore this). but, as i wrote this, i imagined ellie's voice like lucy gray's from the hunger game's. like the slight country drawl, strong vocals, yes yes yes yes Also x2! anyone who follows me should know that im absolute SHITTT at writing smut. but, for some reason, that doesn't seem to stop me from creating works of garbage for my own amusement. anyway, if you reach the smut & realize that it's literal trash, i won't blame u for clicking off of this. just a warning! warnings. brief mention of creepy old men at the bar, depictions of alcohol, public flirting ???, eventual smut, drunk sex in a bathroom LMAO, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r!receiving) wc. 5.1k

𝓕uck your back hurts. Well, if you're being honest, everything hurts. Your neck, back, stomach, legs, hands. Everything that's capable of aching, does.

However, rather unfortunately, you suppose that's to be expected after driving for nigh two days straight in your shitty truck. It's a 90s pickup, the white paint peeling and the tires in desperate need of care. The beige seats are worn and stained, evidence of age having taken its toll on your poor vehicle.

In spite of your truck's needs, you're far more interested in your own ⎯ getting a damn drink.

You're currently coasting through the backroads of some small western town, streets made of dirt and buildings all decrepit. You've never heard of this place before, the name having already slipped your mind due to how utterly foreign it'd been to your mind.

Your headlights cast a yellow glow onto the dirt before you, your tires crunching against fallen leaves and loose rocks. You pass gas stations, wooden homes, dollar stores, an immeasurable amount of churches, and no liquor store. Most shop signs are staked into the dirt, the few billboards all dilapidated in some way ⎯ broken letters, flickering lights, or completely torn from the ground somehow.

Then, by either the grace of God or a wondrous turn of fate, your eyes stutter on a certain sign. A broken wooden one advertising a bar. Your interest is instantly piqued, wheel turning toward the building without hesitation.

You don't give yourself the chance to even think before you're hopping out of your truck and walking into the bar.

The moment you push open the wooden double doors, the sound of boisterous laughter and heavy cowboy boots meet your ears. Perfect.

You stand in place for a moment, craning your neck with narrowed eyes are you examine the atmosphere. To the left, there's a bar with almost every stool occupied by an overweight old man. To the right, there's a pair of barn doors with the word 'restrooms' carved into the wood. In the center of the space, there's bucking machine ⎯ a drunk teenage boy holding on for dear life while his group of friends cackle at him from the sidelines.

Then, on the side of the building opposite you, there's a small stage. It's only elevated a foot or so, wood rotting a bit on the edges. But you hardly care for the conditions of the stage itself. What you find yourself drawn to is the person on it.

In the center is a stool, an auburn haired woman perched atop it with an old guitar situated on her lap. She strums the instrument in an upbeat tempo, leaned forward slightly as she sings into the microphone before her. There's a small crowd in front of the stage, girls admiring and boys whistling.

Considering how run-down this town is, you hadn't expected to stumble across a bar that's so fucking packed. There's barely any open stools at the bar, the bathroom doors are rarely sitting still as people continue to pass through them, the mechanical bull being gifted coins non-stop. But you can't complain.

After so long alone on the road, it's nice to be in such an active atmosphere. It's not calming, of course, but you welcome it lovingly nonetheless.

Watching the auburn for a few moments longer, you then turn on your heel and saunter over to the bar. You're forced to sit beside someone as the lack of stools forbids you from not having a neighbor.

"What can I get'cha, hon'?" The bartender asks you with a tip of his cowboy hat. In his other hand, he wipes the outside of an octagonal glass cup.

"Got any whiskey?" You inquire, leaning your elbows on the sticky countertop.

"Mhm," He hums, turning around to grab a bottle from the shelves behind the bar. He sets the glass onto the counter with a light clink, popping the bottle open. "'N' how would ya like it?"

"Neat."

He nods once more, pouring the liquid into the glass with a flourish before sliding it across the wood toward you. The moment you grab it, he's turning away to tend to another patron. You drink it quickly, downing the glass in one large swig.

As you place the glass back onto the counter, you feel eyes boring into you. Hoping it's someone of interest to you, you turn only to find a duo of old men chuckling at you. Their cheeks are rosy, bellies full ⎯ therefore likely drunk. You roll your eyes as the bartender refills your glass without a word.

Now with an entirely new bit of determination, you down that glass even faster. Another refill. Another singular gulp. Another refill. Another gulp. Another. Another. Another.

You're now swaying a bit atop your stool, feeling pretty good all things considered. The men continue to gossip among themselves, pointing at your ass. You feel disgusted ⎯ not at yourself, but at them for their fucking audacity. Part of you wants to knock their teeth out. But you're not that drunk.

So, instead, you take the mature approach and simply pick up your glass and exit the scene. As you walk away, you hear their chuckles increase and you suddenly regret not punching them.

Your heavy boots thud against the wooden flooring as you walk aimlessly around the bar. You push through an amass of bodies, everyone too drunk to care for your harsh shoving. Then, before you know it, you find yourself situated in the very front of the stage, glass of whiskey in hand.

The woman's voice is laced with a slight country drawl, her boot tapping against the leg of her stool to count the beats of the song. She nods her head as she sings, a small grin lighting her features.

The dim lighting of the bar doesn't do her justice. But you still manage to notice the freckles that dot her face, the cupids bow to her upper lip, the small scar on her right eyebrow. Or maybe you're just drunk and enamored by her. God, what if she finds you creepy? What if she thinks you're some fucking creep? What if she⎯

She looks at you and you swear your heart gives out right then and there. And, if that weren't enough, she winks. You feel your cheeks heat up and you blame it on the alcohol. You down the rest of your whiskey, suddenly feeling very hot. A light chuckle shakes her chest, ringing throughout the space. Nobody else thinks anything of it, of course, all too drunk and preoccupied to give a shit. But you find yourself fantasizing about all the other ways you could make this woman laugh like that again. Oh fuck you are a creep.

In a desperate attempt to salvage the residual bits of dignity you have left, you pull twenty bucks from your back pocket and step forward to drop it into her open guitar case.

She raises a brow, tipping her cowgirl hat in your direction with a smirk. "Thank ya kindly, darlin'."

Somehow, she'd managed to thank you in tune with the song, keeping the beat going without missing a second. It's almost impressive. Okay, it's super impressive. In fact, you feel your heart speeding up again, mind playing on loop the sound of her addressing you. Her country drawl, her smirk, her long fingers grabbing the bridge of her hat. Fuck.

Impulsively, you end up turning on your heel and heading right back to that damn bar. The bartender just grins as he pours you another serving, likely having noticed the flush to your cheeks and the desperation of which you placed the glass down.

"Mind if I give y' some advice?" He asks, leaning forward a bit.

In an act of self pity, you don't have the energy to deny him. "Why the hell not?"

"I ain't gotta clue who you're blushin' over, but my advice is that." He nods toward something behind you. You cast a glance over your shoulder, eyes landing on the bucking machine. You almost laugh, turning back to him with an unimpressed expression. "Listen, y' ain't gotta be good. Y' jus' gotta move your hips right n' I swear he's all yours. Trust me. I've seen it work hundreds of times."

You don't dare to correct him on the gender of your current infatuation, instead deciding to take a few more drinks for a bit of liquid courage. I mean, seriously. How else will you get this woman's attention? Plus, what do you have to lose? You'll never see her again after tonight. The least you could do is try.

After another few drinks, you're staggering over to the mechanical bull with a few coins clutched tight in the palm of your hand. The wait for the stupid thing is way longer than necessary, everyone competing for the longest time lasted on the machine.

You lean your empty hand on the frame of the wooden fence that encircles the rider, watching with reddened eyes as yet another person is flung onto the ground with a heavy thud. He rubs his head with a groan, though his sounds of pain quickly fade into laughter as he brushes off his jeans and stands upright, returning to his boisterous friends with a crooked grin.

Unease begins to lick up your spine, the logical part of your brain wondering why the fuck you're doing this for some country chick you don't even know the name of. You're strong, sure, but your luck would lead you to breaking your neck.

You look over your shoulder casting a glance in the direction of the bar. The bartender gives you two thumbs up, flashing you a grin with missing teeth. As encouraging as that is, what really pushes you to continue is seeing those two old men. They're sitting side-by-side, lustrous smirks on their face as they stare at you, leaning over every few seconds to mutter something in the other's ear. Yeah. Fuck them. You're doing this.

As you make it to the front of the line, you're overcome with naught but confidence. Whether that be due to the sound of the woman's singing growing nearer or the sight of the gross old men, you don't know. Though, honestly, it's likely because of the sheer amount of whiskey you've downed in the past hour.

"Coins." The blonde woman demands, palm of her hand facing you like a bill you've been avoiding. You place the coins into her hand and she opens the gate, hinges squealing as the prior rider stumbles out with a streak of dirt under her eye.

You walk into the ring, feet staggering a bit already from your drunkenness. You hoist yourself onto the bull, situating yourself until you feel a bit less awkward atop the back of the metal animal.

It begins rocking slowly back and forth. You find it easy at first, not really needing to use your hands. You still do, though, not much trusting the machine to not throw you off the moment you let your guard down. It picks up the speed, more. More. More. More. And, before you know it, it's thrashing back and forth. You hold onto the saddle, a dazed smile spreading across your face as you find yourself having fun.

It spins in a circle, your eyes suddenly catching on the woman on stage. She has the perfect view of you from her pedestal, her stool bringing her higher than the crowd just as the bull brings you.

She's still singing into the mic, her voice drowned out by the sound of chatter and cheers ⎯ though you're not sure if they're directed toward you or her at this point.

You've stayed on longer than you anticipated, the ache in your back returning as the bull yanks and dives under you. But you hold on, suddenly remembering the bartender's advice. You don't want to switch up whatever tactic you accidentally built into habit, but the point of this is to get the woman's attention.

So you wait until it spins back around. Then, while her eyes are pinned to yours, you shift a bit, back moving more fluidly as you roll your hips against it. Nobody else would think anything of it, the act so subtle that you simply appear to have altered your position. But she noticed. You know she did. Because her voice caught in her throat, causing her to have to take a sip from her water and apologize into the mic before resuming.

Your confidence spikes at this, suddenly feeling much more egoistical than you did when she was a complete stranger you made eye contact with once. Now you know you have an effect on her.

So you do it again, maintaining eye contact as you roll your hips against the bull suggestively.

Just as before, nobody else pays any mind, far too focused on the fact that you're stayed on for so long to give a fuck about technique. Honestly, if anyone were to notice, it'd be those creepy old men. And, hopefully, they're aware that it's pointed at this woman and now them. Though you doubt they'd care. Creeps like them rarely do.

The singer, with her eyes now pinned to you ⎯ though, everyone's now are ⎯ switches her tone a bit. Her song alters from an upbeat bar tempo with little meaning to having more directed lyrics to a girl with mesmerizing eyes. Again, nobody else picks up on this. She sings about a random girl with stunning eyes, never digressing past that.

But you know; and she knows. And that's all that matters.

She sings a certain line, something more lustful about the way you look at her. Something suggestive about the way she's imagining you. You instantly falter, your grip slipping.

You fall to the ground with a thud, the entire bar making a sound of disappointment and empathy. You don't care, though, not giving a single damn about the bull riding. All you care for is that fucking singer.

You hit the ground, breath knocked from your lungs. You cough, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. Your head spins, the alcohol finally catching up to you. Another cough is yanked from your heaving chest as you groan.

The blonde coin-collecting woman allows the next person into the ring, not waiting for you to give your say. As the next man enters, he offers you his hand. You, desperate for assistance, take it with a grateful smile. He hauls you to your feet, muttering quick compliments on your performance on the bull. You thank him before brushing past him and exiting the ring with staggering steps.

A few people from the crowd compliment you, offering words of encouragement for the 'next time you go up'. You give them half-hearted smiles, chest still aching slightly from your fall.

You shove through the crowd, nearing the restrooms you'd seen at the entrance. You push the doors open and head into the women's side.

You brace your hands on the edge of the sink, glancing in the mirror for a brief moment ⎯ examining the small cut on your cheekbone and the bruises that are beginning to form on your shoulder and hip. You then lean down, positioning your mouth under the faucet before turning on the water. You drink it, relishing in the taste of cool liquid rather than burning alcohol.

"Mm, look who it is."

You smack your head on the faucet with how quickly you straighten. You groan, rubbing your temple as you turn to face the person standing behind you. The singer. Well fuck, that makes the head smack twenty times more embarrassing.

Somehow, she's even more alluring up close. Her pale green eyes bore into you, lashes lidding them slightly. Her skin is lightly tanned, freckles likely produced from a life spent under the sun. Her forearm has a tattoo covering the rippled skin there, lean muscles adorning the rest of said arm.

You play off your staring by narrowing your eyes at her, "Followin' me, are ya?"

"Nah." She shakes her head, stepping forward to wash her hands in the sink beside yours. She tips her head down, looking at her hands as she scrubs, hat coming to block her face from your view. Unfortunate. "Jus' comin' t' wash the filth off my hands. I wouldn't worry, though, darlin', I'm sure that Smilton boy'll check up on ya."

Your brows furrow at this. "Smillin boy?"

"Smilton." She corrects you rather harshly, looking up to meet your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. "Farmer's boy. Rich. Brunette. Helped y' up after the bull."

Realization hits you like a brick. She's jealous. This woman that you've never met, this woman that you stressed over impressing, this woman that you bruised yourself to get the attention of. She's jealous because some farmer's boy helped you stand up. A smirk tugs at your lips, an idea lighting your mind.

"Hmm," You hum lowly, brushing past her to dry your hands on one of the scratchy white towelettes. "He is quite handsome, ain't he?"

"Suppose." She replies shortly.

Your smirk only deepens, drying your hands achingly slow. Because you know she's aware that she has no right to be jealous. And that only serves to make her more pissed off. How interesting.

"What's his first name, if y' don't mind me askin'?" You speak casually, talking with her as though everything that passed between you two prior to this hadn't happened at all. It's driving her insane and you can tell.

"I dunno." She says, turning the faucet off to dry her hands beside you. "Somethin' with a J?"

"Oh, c'mon," you coo, turning to her with those eyes you know she adores. "I know y' know more than jus' his last name."

She looks away, clearing her throat with a set jaw, "you're right. Know his first initial too. It's a J."

You chuckle lightly, releasing the towelette to trace your fingertips along the soft skin of her bicep. "Yeah? And what's your first initial?"

Her entire body seems to tense, breath hitching in reaction to your touch. She looks at you from under the bridge of her hat, green eyes glinting with something informal. Something unfit for a casual conversation between two strangers in the women's rest room. You feel your heart stutter at the sight, having to make an effort not to fall to your knees before her in this very moment.

"E," is all she whispers.

"Last name?" You whisper back, matching her for quietude.

"Williams." She manages.

You hum, eyes following the movements of your hand. Had you not been so drunk, you'd likely never have the balls to be so flirty to her. But, as it turns out, your intoxication is good for something. Well, something aside from staying on some metal bull.

"How pretty," you whisper, leaning forward so your mouth is now right beside her ear. Your breath fans across her skin as you continue. "Now tell me your full name, will ya?"

Her eyes are pinned to your face, pupils tracing your features as your hand traces her arm. She finds herself mesmerized by you, entranced by your every detail ⎯ the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheek, the arc of your brow, the height of your cheekbones, the line of your jaw. She imagines running her tongue along each of these points, imagines committing your to memory using naught but her mouth.

"Ellie." She replies finally, watching closely as your eyes raise to meet hers. Her heart stutters in her chest at that, as it always does when you make eye contact.

Your gaze flicks between her eyes and lips, hand slowly inching up her arm. "Ellie?"

The sound of her name rolling off your tongue is enough to send a spark of heat to her core. That paired with the way your fingers are lightly tracing up, up, up. You move your hand over her shoulder, along her collarbone, up the side of her neck, and finally rests to cup her cheek in your palm. She leans into the touch, eyes fluttering.

"You're such a fuckin' tease," she mutters, voice low as it's weighed down by desire and a deep need to feel your skin on hers.

You ignore her words and move to lean in close enough that your noses brush. Then, with your breath fanning across her skin, you ask, "this okay?"

She doesn't say anything, instead abandoning the towelette completely and grabbing your face in both her hands. With a sudden sense of ferocity, she presses her lips to yours, pulling your body flush against hers.

"I'll take that as a yes," you chuckle between kisses.

"Quiet," she murmurs, too needy for your touch to have time for conversation. As much as she loves hearing you talk, shed much rather talk via action rather than actual words.

You giggle against her lips, your arms coming up to wrap around her neck. She hums, hat falling to the tiled floor with a light brush. With each passing second, her actions become more and more desirous, suddenly pushing your back against the nearest wall. You let out a huff of air from the impact, your lips quirking up to form a small smile, regaled by Ellie's sudden desperation for you.

She tilts her head, peppering kisses down your chin and along your jaw. They're harsh and hungry, nipping your skin in some places purely to see your brow furrow at the feel of her teeth.

As she trails down to your neck, you tip your head back against the wall and open your eyes to blink up at the wooden ceiling. Your hands fist Ellie's hair as she leaves bruises down the column of your throat.

Still well and drunk, the room swirls around you. The lights seem to shift with each blink, making this all so much more intoxicating. Your nerves are already on edge due to the alcohol, so the feel of Ellie kissing them is absolutely maddening.

You feel as she presses kisses along your collarbone, tongue grazing the taut skin there. You shift, legs pressing together as she grows more sensual in her act of quick intimacy. This movement doesn't go unnoticed by her, however, her lips quirking into a small smile against your skin as she feels rather proud of how quick she's turned you to putty under her.

She moves across the bare skin of your chest, plump lips taking time to memorize each detail that adorns you. You move again, the heat between your legs growing harder to ignore.

"Patience, darlin'." She instructs. "I'll get there when I get there."

You frown at this, "well get there faster."

Her kisses suddenly cease, looking up at you through her lashes. She tilts her head at you innocently, blinking as she waits for you to correct yourself. To reword your restive demand. "Don't be rude, now."

You can feel your dignity push at the back of your throat, pride yearning for a moment to speak. Seeing as you're normally the one making orders, this feels quite stranger. But, after the long journey you've taken, you suppose you've earned a bit of time to sit back and let someone else take the lead.

Ellie draws a line of kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, kneeling before you as her head comes to situate itself in front of your waistband. You can't help but admire how she looks from here, hair in your hands as her eyes are pinned to your denim jeans as though it's a buffet and she's a man starved. After a moment, she lifts her head to look at you.

Eye contact. Sparks shoot through your body. Somehow, something as simplistic as meeting Ellie's gaze can make you feel indescribably nervous. Pale green irises bore into you, waiting for you to utter words of consent. You do so, giving her the go-ahead.

As soon as you do, Ellie wastes no time hooking her fingers through your belt loops and pulling your jeans to your knees. She leans forward, eyes lidded.

"Wait." You pant, tugging on her hair to halt her movements. She seems rather annoyed by your sudden interruption, but looks up at you kindly despite her own irritation. You rolls your eyes at her evident pique. "What if someone walks in?"

She sighs heavily at that. "I locked the door."

"Oh, okay." You nod. Though, just as she's about to lean forward again, you stop her once more. "Wait. How did you know to lock it? You were all pissy when you first came in here."

"I didn't know." She explains hastily. "I simply hoped."

You huff out a chuckle, shaking your head fondly at her admittance. Then, finally, you don't stop her when she leans forward.

She traces her tongue along the outside of your underwear, the fabric between you only adding to the pulsing in your pussy. A shiver wracks through you, causing Ellie to grab you by the hips to hold you still. She traces circles into your hips with her thumbs, a gentle motion when compared to the needy movements of her tongue as she draws small circles into your clit.

You tighten your grip on her hair, drawing a grunt from the back of her throat. The vibrations from her mouth against your pussy makes it hard to keep back your own noises.

When she finally shifts your panties to the side, you nearly collapse at the feel of her mouth against you. She licks a long stripe up your vulva, a shaky breath yanking from you. The sound only urges her further, taking one hand and drags her middle finger up your center. You shift, leaning heavily against the wooden walls as standing upright suddenly seems impossible. Then, without warning, two fingers shove right into your hole.

Your hips jolt, moving far more than initially seeing as Ellie is now only holding on with one hand. Whilst thrusting her fingers in and out of your needy pussy, her tongue circles your clit with that same neediness, mirroring you for desperation.

Your head falls back, thudding lightly against then wall. At the sound, Ellie ceases. You almost whine at her sudden stopping.

"My eyes are down here, darlin'." She says lowly. "Let me see you."

Begrudgingly, you oblige, lowering your head to make eye contact with Ellie. She's on her knees, legs folded against tiled flooring as she resumes her lapping. You huff out an airy moan as you have to actively stop yourself from tipping your head back again. She holds your gaze the entire time, adding to the intensity of the feel. Her eyes are lidded, shoulder moving as her fingers recommence.

This all paired with your dizzy head and swimming vision makes for quite the climax, core knotting progressively as Ellie doesn't dare to stop. "Fuck," you pant as you buck your hips against her face, forced to watch as you do so. With another heavy breath and an arching back, you utter, "I'm⎯"

She seems exponentially proud as she hears you say this, regardless of if you finish your sentence or not. She pauses only for a moment to say, "yeah?"

"Mhm," you hum, though it comes out more of a moan than anything.

"Do it, darlin'."

And you do, coming undone right atop her face. She, admittedly, relishes in it, hydrated only by what you're able to provide her with. You see stars and they're swimming too, circling your head in a celestial body of pleasure. And Ellie watches, for once allowing your head to fall back as she deems this a one time exception. Because there will be a next time.

You're panting as you lower your head to face her once more, her gaze never having left your expression. She makes out with your pussy sensually as to bring you down from your high. Then, as gently as she can, she situates your panties back on correctly and pulls your jeans to rest as your hips, remaining knelt in front of you as she zips and buttons them just as she'd found them.

You watch with a twinkle of fondness behind your irises, unable to look away from the expression of adoring concentration she wears. She then uses your hips as a support system to haul herself back to her feet, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. You can nigh taste yourself on her.

"Not bad for a stranger at a sketchy bar." You muse, picking her hat from the floor and situating it atop her auburn tufts of hair. She watches you, analyzing your every move.

"I'm not just a stranger." She reminds you as your eyes find hers, your hands coming to drape around her shoulders. "I'm a stranger who wrote a song about you."

"Mm," you hum, "so you're a stalkers stranger?"

"I prefer the term passionate." She says, shooting you a playful scowl.

You chuckle, "passionate for what? Stalking and preying on drunken women?"

"Pfft-" She scoffs. "You're not drunk."

For a moment, you consider agreeing with her. To save her the pain of realizing you hadn't been sober for this. But you know better than to lie to her. So, through lidded eyes ⎯ ones that should have been a rather telltale sign of your intoxication ⎯ you give her a look, not even needing to voice the truth aloud for her to understand.

"Well fuck." She groans, taking a step backward and causing your arms to fall to your sides.

Frankly, you'd expected her to be much more angered than that. Because you know you would be. After writing a song, chasing down, then tongue-fucking someone in the bathroom, the worst news to receive would be that they'd been wasted the entire time.

"I'm sorry," you're quick to apologize, for some reason feeling the need to earn her forgiveness.

"How're you planning to get home?" She asks.

"I hadn't thought about that." You admit.

"How about this," she suggests, "I give you a place to stay to apologize for fucking you while drunk and you let me take you to dinner tomorrow to apologize for not telling me beforehand. Deal?"

A smirk works its way to your mouth, "deal."

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[chaos-in-deepspace]

Sylus Monster Dick Agenda: The Facts + Dragon Sylus Mating Headcanons (at the end)

Alright, so you saw Sylus is now a dragon. Awesome. Beautiful. Now I've already seen people discussing him having hemipeens and I wanna come on here and explain how they'd actually be working. It's fine if you make headcanons on how his dick would be (and if you do please state they're a headcanon), but if you're gonna be a monster fucker who wants to fuck actual hemipeens, make sure you've done research on how they work.

Warnings: Non Human Dicks, Facts about animal penises and mating, biting, dick hooks, mating seasons, slightly possessive Sylus in the headcanons.

Disclaimer: I did a lot of research for this, however I understand that sometimes there can be mistakes. If anyone breeds snakes or lizards, owns them, or anything of the sort and you notice something is inaccurate, please inform me. I'll happily update this post. I want to be as accurate as possible, but as I don't personally own reptiles, I could only go off research and the information my friend gave me who owns snakes.

Hemipeens:

So obviously there's a lot of different reptiles out there, and their hemipeens are generally in the same wheelhouse, but with the sheer amount of species out there, it's impossible to cover them all in a quick post explaining how to write them in your erotica. We're going to be focusing on lizards for this, because they're the closest to a traditional western dragon which is what Sylus appears to be (if you wanted to do a more traditional Chinese based dragon, they'd be somewhat more akin to a snake and lizard hybrid) I'll also briefly cover a snake's though, just in case.

Lizard Hemipeens: A lizards hemipeens (focusing on bearded dragons) are normally more lobed in appearance. They're shorter but, in comparison to the rest of the body, are large in shape.

Lizard Hemipeens: Have spikes or ridges on them that help secure the female during mating, They're not extremely sharp, but if the male is being too rough during mating, or it takes too long, it can definitely cause discomfort. However, keep in mind, this is when mating with another female lizard, which have adapted to be more resilient. If it was a human, it could be a different story.

Lizard Hemipeens: Are stored in a cloaca when not mating. It's a flexible muscular structure to house the hemipeens. When mating, the hemipeens turn everted (inside out).

Lizard Hemipeens: Sit side by side, and have a small space between them. They aren't just like two dicks next to one another. They also vary in appearance, but most of the time they're more tubular.

Lizard Hemipeens: Are only out during the mating process. In fact, if they're out for too long it can cause a prolapse.

Snake Hemipeens: Generally more elongated and looks more like a cylinder. Snakes have more of a need for longer insertion in order to breed their mate, unlike a lizard.

Snake Hemipeens: Also often have the small hooks or spines to help keep their mate in place. Just like lizards, these don't often cause injury in the female unless it's too rough or mating takes too long.

Snake Hemipeens: Other than the little hooks or spines, a lot of species hemipeens are more smooth, however species like a boa or python have more texture to them.

Snake Hemipeens: Tend to have a more forked appearance on each of the hemipeens on the end. The hemipeens are also closer together on the body, but still sit side by side.

Snake Hemipeens: Are houses in the cloaca, like the lizards and a lot of other reptiles.

Key Differences: Lizard hemipeens tend to have have small ridges or spines, while snake hemipeens may have hooks or spiny structures.

Key Differences: Lizard hemipeens tend to be flatter and more lobed, whereas snake hemipeens are more cylindrical and elongated.

Key Differences: Snake hemipeens are generally longer and more narrow than the shorter, more compact hemipeens of most lizards.

Mating Seasons

In general, reptiles will mate when the weather is warmer. During the cold months they tend to be more lethargic. Of course in captivity this can change, but overall, you're looking at spring and summer for mating.

Lizards: Tend to mate in the spring when it's warming up.

Snakes: Will normally mate in spring or summer once they get out of brumation (a period of dormancy similar to hibernation for cold-blooded animals), Generally they'll go into their mating season right after brumation.

Mating Behaviors

Keep in mind, during mating, Lizards and snakes only use ONE of their hemipeens for mating. It depends on the positioning of their mate when they mount them. Sometimes if the "run out of juice" they can use the other hemipeen as a last resort.

Lizards: Will become more territorial and aggressive towards other males during mating season.

Lizards: Males will often slightly change color during mating season, bob their heads, and wave their arms to attract female mates.

Lizards: Mating is normally kept shorter, only being a couple minutes long.

Lizards: Can scent during mating, but it's a secondary thing. They rely more on visuals.

Lizards: Will sometimes bite during mating in order to lock the female into place.

Snakes: Male snakes will compete with other males for the mate, often fighting, wrestling, etc.

Snakes: Will leave scent trails for their mates and vibrate their tails to attract females.

Snakes: Mating can take a few minutes to a few hours.

Snakes: Rely heavily on scents during mating. They have the Jacobsen's organ on the roof of their mouth that allows them to pick on on other snake's pheromones.

Snakes: Biting in snakes is more common during mating, and can happen before and during copulation.

OKAY! So that's just a fucking rundown on anatomy and mating habits. Now how to incorporate this into your monster fucker stuff for Sylus.

Writing Dragon Sylus Dicks

Sylus as a character has shown to be very caring towards the MC, so I don't think he would ever purposefully harm her. So during mating these are some things I can see happening (Disclaimer: all these are headcanons based off facts on reptile anatomy and mating behaviors):

Dragon Sylus: Would scent his mate and the area around her, even if MC doesn't understand why or can't smell it at all, it would put him at ease.

Dragon Sylus: Would be more gentle with biting as to not cause serious injury to MC. He might break the skin slightly, but overall they'd be very shallow.

Dragon Sylus: Would be a bit more territorial of MC and try to keep her away from other males only during mating season. During the other times he'd allow MC full autonomy. If MC stated she didn't appreciate it, he would explain the reasoning so she'd understand the difference in species.

Dragon Sylus: Would only fuck MC with one of the hemipeens and be gentle so the hooks or ridges don't cause harm. Would do several check ins to make sure she's okay.

Dragon Sylus: Could hypothetically go for several rounds depending if he's more lizard or snake like, but would be reading MC's body language and words to know if she'd be able to handle it.

Dragon Sylus: Would be the king of aftercare. He'd patch up any wounds he inflicted to prevent infection, make sure MC is fed and taken care of, and if it was uncomfortable he would try to find a balm or numbing cream and now fuck MC for days until she's fully recovered, and only then he'll touch her if she gives him the 'okay'.

I mainly had to write this because I saw a post about someone saying the hemipeens would both excrete different things (one would be a numbing agent, the other is cum). Also how at the end it would glue the vaginal canal shut essentially which is such a non-con thing. Can you imagine if that happened? Infection? Death. Just so another male can't go in. It made no sense. Everyone is free to have their own headcanons, but please STATE IT AS SUCH.

And if you're going to have a rough Sylus who fucks MC and harms her during the process, fucking tag your shit. That is a Non-Con situation, and nobody on here has been tagging their Non-Con Sylus content. Tag it. Warn about it. TAG YOUR SHIT PROPERLY!!!

But ya, there you go. How it would logically work for a Dragon Sylus smut.

[mariana-oconnor]

Types of AO3 Summary

Option 1 - The Excerpt:

The quickest, the easiest! Find a section of your fic that contains the main premise of said fic and also showcases your writing. Copy paste that into the summary box. BOOM! Done.

Best used for any fic, unless it's so short the excerpt would be the whole fic.

Option 2 - The No Frills:

Just a description of the fic. No need for drama. No need to complicate matters. Keep it simple, keep it safe.

Example: "A short character exploration of Blorbo's thoughts after Daisy leaves."

Best used for short fics, poems and fics where the style/format is more important than the plot. Or fics that tie directly into a scene/episode from canon or another fanfic.

Option 3 - The Hook:

Draw the reader's interest by giving them a set up with no conclusion. Introduce the main character(s), introduce the status quo, describe an inciting incident, leave a question in the reader's mind.

Example: "Blorbo is a barista at a coffee shop, struggling to pay their bills, but after handsome rockstar Obrolb walks into their coffee shop they find that they have to decide whether a chance at love is worth the cost of fame."

Best used for mid to long fic where there's a strong premise and follow through. Especially good for AUs. Can be expanded for more complex plots or used multiple times in one summary for multiple characters or subplots.

Option 4 - The Sitcom One-Liner:

"The one in which [over simplified description of one of the main plotlines]" This is essentially 'boil your plot down to the very simplest statement you can, oversimplify if possible. The more bizarre or unhelpful the better.

Example: "The one in which Blorbo learns to like cake".

Best used for fics with at least a little humour in them.

Option 5 - The Rule of Three:

Three is a magic number. Find three key moments in your fic and just list them. That's it. Often ends with 'not necessarily in that order' if used for comic effect. If it's an AU, establish that quickly (i.e. 'Star NHL player Blorbo…').

Example: "Blorbo makes a friend, falls in love, and almost burns to death, not necessarily in that order."

Best used for anything, really. Three is a magic number. The human brain loves things that come in threes.

Option 6 - The Trope Lure:

Why bother describing the plot? We all know AO3 readers are here for the tropes. Similar to The Sitcom One-Liner just using tropes instead of plot. Often followed by the phrase 'that nobody asked for'.

Example: "The Space western / A/B/O / Mail Order Bride fic that nobody asked for."

Often tacked on to the end of The Hook or The Excerpt as a tl;dr.

Best used for fic that plays its tropes straight with no shame or second guessing.

Option 7 - The Pre-emptive Strike:

(Not recommended) You just wrote this fic, the self doubt is consuming you. You feel the need to apologise profusely for your existence for no apparently reason. You feel cringe, you think the fic is cringe, you want everyone to know that you think the fic is cringe in case they don't like it and judge you for it.

Example: "So I fell in love with this pairing and had to write this. It's weird and terrible. Lol! I suck at summaries! Sorry!"

Best used for no fics ever. I cannot stress this enough.

(Seriously, I am begging you, don't do this. If you're planning to use this option, rethink it and do one of the others. I guarantee you more people will want to read your fic.)

Sometimes added on to any other summary as a strange disclaimer. (srsly. don't.)

Option 8 - The Unapology:

Embrace the mayhem, embrace the deep dark depths of your soul. The opposite of The Pre-emptive Strike. A combination of The No Frills and The Trope Lure that truly gives no fucks.

You have committed crimes and you are proud of them. You know what your USP is and you're going to make sure your target market finds you. Look upon my works, ye readers, and despair!

Example: "There aren't enough tentacle fics in this pairing, so I had to write one myself!"

Best used for fics with controversial/polarising tropes with all relevant details already clearly stated in the tags.

Option 9 - The Interrogation:

What if you wrote a summary entirely in questions? What if your readers had to read the fic to discover the answers? Who knows what will happen if you do this?

Example: "What happens when Blorbo McBlorbo gets his wish and Daisy doesn't make it to the plane on time? What happens when Obrolb finds out? How will this change Daisy and Blorbo's friendship?"

Best used for... I honestly don't know. This style of summary does not vibe with me. Mystery fic maybe? Sorry guys.

Option 10 - The Multipack:

Got a bunch of shorter fics in one work? No way of summarising them all without a wall of text larger than the Great Wall of China? This one is similar to The No Frills in that you're not describing the plots themselves and similar to The Trope Lure in that often broader genres and tropes are mentioned. What links those fics? Are they all in the same fandom? The same pairing? The same challenge? Just slap that right in the summary. A chapter list with 1-2 word trope/pairing summaries can be included or not.

Example: "A collection of Blorbo/Daisy/Obrolb fics based on Tumblr prompts. Chapter 1: Regency AU Chapter 2: Werewolves vs vampires Chapter 3: Ghost!Daisy Chapter 4: Space pirates!"

Best used for (obviously) works that are compilations of fic.

Option ? - The Void:

I said The Excerpt was the quickest and easiest summary to do. I lied, well... I didn't exactly lie. What is quicker and easier than not having a summary at all? After all, that's what the tags are for.

Example:

Best used for... nothing? Write a summary, guys. Please?

[theghostiedyke]

Also they fully said there were multiple posts and undeniable proof of "weird" behavior around rape/incest/pedophilia. Half of the callout posts about popular transwomen on this site are the same out of context screenshots?

Also weirdo behavior to accuse one side of defaulting to marginalized identities to mask any wrongdoings but then. Literally doing just that.

obsessed with fluorosensitive making ANOTHER post about how youre "a danger to the community" but saying its not transmisogyny to say this because "most of the people saying it are black and trans". not even having the nuts to pretend that there are any trans women agreeing with them

Yeah it’s always funny seeing another person I’ve never heard of ring the alarm bells about I’m endangering “the community.” Like girl what community are we in together I don’t know you ��

It’s also always silly when they realize they don’t have a solid foundation for their little crusade so they go “if I say my side has more people of color than the other side, it means I’ll be immune to criticism.” It’s such a weird cynical form of tokenizing that doesn’t even have a basis most times because it’s just going “well I probably have more black mutuals.” Like girl I don’t think you will if you act like this 💀

Shoutout to the one person who sent me hate anons about how it’s only white women reblogging my transmisogyny posts and when I asked what their basis for that was they said it was because a lot of my followers have anime profile pictures lmao.

Some people on here are just so weird and don’t know how to have normal conflict. When I hate someone I’m just straightforwardly mean, you don’t need to twist yourself into pretzels trying to find a way to make your disgust for women somehow ideologically pure

[stardust-swan]

Secrets to the Arabian Princess Scent 💐🧴🪷

So with Arab perfumes becoming popular in the West due to their strong projection and beautiful smell, and the Arab world becoming known for our knowledge on how to smell good af, I (a half Moroccan) am going to reveal some other ways we ensure we smell amazing to the girlies on Tumblr who are interested in Arab perfumes or just in generally smelling amazing 😍 Most tips are Moroccan but many apply to the Arab world in general (under the cut because this turned into a long post) ✨💞💐

1) Good Eating Habits: When my mother moved here to Europe, she was immediately struck by how the people seemed to smell like "pig." And that's no coincidence. You are what you eat, so coming from a country where nobody eats pig to one where everyone eats it, of course you're going to be struck by people smelling like it from the inside out. Not just that, but in the Arab world, it's also way less common for people to eat takeout and drink alcohol, whereas in many parts of the West, these things are a normal part of many people's diets and affects their natural scent. A lot of Arabs have also talked about how Westerners smell like "milk," and this is because Westerners tend to consume more dairy products than people in the East do. It's also common for Arabs to eat fruit as dessert instead of having cakes or cookies all the time (although speaking of cookies and cakes, the scents of rosewater, orange blossom water, almonds, honey, vanilla, oranges and lemons commonly used in Arab baking fill up the house with a wonderful smell while they're baking). Teas made from various herbal infusions are popular throughout the Arab world. Spearmint, peppermint, sage, cardamom, cinnamon, hibiscus, chamomile, anise, and thyme are commonly used to flavor tea in MENA. Dried lime tea is drunk in the Arabian Peninsula. Coffee flavoured with cardamom is also common. I especially like Turkish coffee. Spices like cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves are commonly used in cooking, and the scent of them can cling to your clothes and hair. Herbs like mint and parsley, which have natural deodorising properties, are often used in meals.

I'm not saying that you need to cut any foods out in order to smell good, but you should consider reducing the amounts of unhealthy foods and red meats you eat, and make sure to drink plenty of water and eat veggies and fruit daily.

2) Keeping a Clean House: Here in Ireland, a lot of people don't clean their houses every day. I know multiple people that only clean their floor once a week, and have a couple of neighbours who don't do much cleaning themselves and just have a housekeeper visit to clean once a week. But in Morocco, people clean daily. The home is also deep cleaned once a week, we even wash the walls. We don't wear shoes inside, and not just that, but we also have different slippers specifically for wearing inside the bathroom. Living in a clean space is important for smelling good, because no matter what you do, you'll always end up smelling like wherever you live due to spending so much time there. The scent will cling to your clothes and hair. Which means if your house smells dirty, you will also smell dirty.

As well as making sure the house is clean, Arabs also make it smell pretty with extras. For example, in Morocco it's common to burn incense or bakhour (perfumed wood chips), and the scent permeates your clothes. People also keep pieces of musk in their wardrobes (wrapped in a handkerchief). It come in scents like orange blossom, jasmine, amber, sandalwood, chamomile and lavender. An unused bar of soap or a sachet of potpourri in your wardrobe will do the same job though if you can't or don't want to buy musk. The musk can also be used as a scented wax melt, a home scent (you just leave it in a bowl), a body perfume (rub it on your skin), a hair perfume (rub on your palms and run through the hair), or to scent bathwater. Solid perfume made from natural ingredients has the same effect. I like Lush Rose Jam solid perfume, as it smells like sweet roses and Turkish delight, and a little goes a long way.

Specific to Marrakech, you can buy jasmine balls which you just leave around the house (if you're not in Marrakech, you can just leave potpourri or dried flowers and herbs in sachets on your desk, bedside table, etc). The Marrakech herbal shops also sell sandalwood bark which you burn. Oud and amber are also burned. Herbs like lavender are sprinkled under carpets and rugs so the scent rises as they're stepped on. Room sprays from brands like Nabeel are used, which come in a range of lovely scents (like the warm vanilla and oud Kanz or the rich floral Raunaq).

3) Personal Hygiene: In the Arab world, people shower daily. In Morocco, we also go to the hammam (public bath) once a week, and we sit in the sauna room, and then rub our bodies with sabon beldi (black soap), a natural soap made from olive oil and black olives, leaving it on for a few minutes before rinsing it off. Then we scrub our skin with a kessa glove after it's marinated. Exfoliating dead skin regularly makes perfume cling to you better (if you order Korean bath towels from Amazon, they're very similar to Moroccan kessa gloves and you use them in a similar way). Then after washing our hair, we use a ghassoul clay mask (some people also rub henna into their skin). After washing the clay off, many people rub rosewater or argan oil into their skin before heading to the relaxation area to enjoy refreshments. As well as helping us smell good, it also makes our skin incomparably soft. When my parents were newlyweds, my father remarked on how he'd never felt a woman with such soft skin in his life before. My mother attributes it to regularly using the hammams before moving here.

Obviously not everyone has access to a hammam, but you can create a similar experience at home. Just sit in a steamy hot shower for 10-15 minutes, wash your skin with a natural soap and leave it on for a few minutes before rinsing off and exfoliating with a glove. Then tone with rosewater and apply oil to your body.

Dukhan treatments (smoke baths) are practiced in Sudan. Married women and brides anoint themselves with oil, before sitting over a chair with a hole in the centre. Under the seat, there is a pit, in which acacia wood, frankincense, or other aromatic woods and resins are burned in a clay vessel.

As well as showering daily (and using the hammam regularly if you're Maghrebi), many people in the Arab world also perform wudu (ritual cleansing) five times a day before praying.

Women commonly apply Musk Al Tahara (white musk), an attar that smells like vanilla, flowers and soft musk on the external parts of their vulva after periods.

Alum was commonly used as a natural deodorant in the Arab world in the past, and some still use it today.

Bidets are also common in the Arab world. In the Anglosphere they're uncommon, but it's easy to get a portable bidet (a small squeezable bottle with a nozzle) online.

We also wash our hands before meals, with a pitcher of water which is passed around the room. In Turkey, they use kolonya, made from fig blossoms, jasmine, rose, or citrus to disinfect their hands. In Morocco, it's common for women to scent their hands with rosewater or orange blossom water after meals.

4) Fragrances, Lotions and Potions: In the Arab world, perfumes are incredible. They're oil-based, so they have excellent projection and longevity. The olfactory notes commonly used in them are beautiful too: delicate rosewater and orange blossom water, exotic oud, sweet amber, vibrant roses and jasmine. In Morocco, gardenia scents are popular, even among men.

Emirati perfumes are the most well known in the West and are super good. Some personal favourites of mine include Oud Mood by Lattafa (Caramel, rose, saffron, and oud), Fatima Pink by Zimaya (Sweet rose that smells like a bit like Turkish delight. it's a dupe of the French Parfums De Marly Delina, however, the actual Delina smells very similar to generic rose oil perfumes you can get in the Arab world to begin with so Zimaya was basically able to dupe it to a T. Their version lasts really long too), Ameerat Al Arab by Lattafa (jasmine, a hint of oud, slightly citrusy. Also the name means "Arabian Princess" in English), Fakhar Rose by Lattafa (sweet, fruity, and very floral) and Yara by Lattafa (floral, amber, vanilla and strawberry). I buy my perfumes from Dubai Perfume Shop in Dublin, but they can be easily found online. Some well-known Arab perfume houses include Lattafa, Al Rehab, Zimaya, Al Qurashi, Amouage, Afnan, Ajmal, Asdaaf, Al Haramain, Armaf, Kayali, Maison Alhambra, and Swiss Arabian, but there are hundreds more.

As well as sprayable perfume, perfume oil is also used. It usually comes in rollerballs or small containers, is inexpensive, and lasts for ages. Like spray perfume, it comes in a huge variety of scents. You can also put it in diffusers or add some to cotton balls and leave in your wardrobe to scent clothes and linens.

Arabs know when to wear perfumes. For example, a rich, sweet, strong oud and vanilla scent will be beautiful in colder weather. But in warm weather, it will become cloying and sickly. Musk, amber and saffron are popular in winter, while rose, orange blossom and jasmine are popular in summer.

In the Arab world, many stalls in the Medina sell gorgeous oils, fragrances and soaps that are inexpensive. For example, the musk I mentioned above. As well as making your home smell incredible, you can also rub it on your body and you'll smell good for days.

Rosewater is commonly used as a toner and to remove makeup. In the town of Skoura, where my great grandparents were from, men even use it to shave with! Orange blossom water is also used in Arab beauty routines in a similar way to rosewater. You can apply either to a bath for extra luxury.

Argan oil is commonly used in Morocco on both skin and hair, as well as the less well-known but just as good prickly pear oil (which is very high in vitamin E). Pure argan oil actually smells mild and not fragrant (similar to olive oil), but for beauty, things like rose oil and menthol are commonly added, so it smells pretty good. Throughout the Middle East and North Africa, jasmine hair oil, castor oil and sweet almond oil (I like putting it in my baths and on my body) are easy to find. Usually Middle Eastern and South Asian shops in the West sell them too.

Honey and almond masks have been used since ancient times, and to this day are still popular. You can buy them basically anywhere. Homemade face masks made from honey and yoghurt or crushed figs and yoghurt are also used.

Aloe Vera is used to treat dry skin, acne, and sunburns. It has a cool and refreshing scent, perfect for the hot climate in many parts of the Arabian world. I like applying it after shaving as it's soothing, natural, and absorbs easily.

Frankincense, a resin used in the Middle East and North Africa for thousands of years, was traditionally used as a natural perfume. It's commonly used in incense. Frankincense oil is also good for the skin.

There are many beautiful scented soaps available in the Arab world. If you go to Turkish or Arab supermarkets, a lot of them will have a section where they sell hygiene products, including soaps with ingredients like argan, rose and oud, and olive oil. I've even found Syrian Aleppo soap before. You can just buy soaps from regular stores in scents like rose, jasmine, honey and almond, orange blossom and sandalwood for achieving that exotic scent though.

As well as using various oils, perfumes, and fragrant beauty treatments, Arab women also know how to layer these different scents to add dimension to them and avoid clashing. For example, a rose perfume over a vanilla lotion will always smell good. Other combinations that are good include almond and vanilla, rose and oud, rose and jasmine, lavender and lemon, rose and orange blossom, and orange blossom and vanilla. But there are many different combinations you can use to achieve a delicious scent that's unique to you.

I hope this was helpful, stay pretty ✨

[drgnflyteabox]

Imagine you're a sheltered woman from New York in the 1850s. By the time you're a young lady both your parents are dead, so you have no choice but to leave your cushy little family home, get on a train and meet your only living relative. You're kind of useless, bookish and naive. You've never experienced anything but comfort. Your uncle tells you he doesn't want you around, but as a woman you can't do much on your own, and what could you do? You're as helpless as a lamb.

Your uncle betroths you to a man in Oregon, and ships you off to travel the oregon trail with all your treasure (jewelry, bonds, antiques, etc). The only thing is that he can't just send you on your own- you've only been in the real world the past few days to travel to him!!! You've been an anxious little hermit, and who's gonna carry your trunk full of romance books?

Your uncle hires security company 141 to escort you through the grueling journey, and you're none the wiser that company 141 doesn't exist, but outlaw gang Ghost team does...

Anyways I neeeeeeed more western and cowboy 141 and I've been playing rdr2 lately soo

This could work for any of the boys :')

Gaz who's just like your fairytale men. Kind, considerate, kisses your hand. He gives you a little extra bacon in the morning when you whine and picks wildflowers for you when he sees a pretty one (like you). You're defenseless against his charms.

Price who's...... the embodiment of your daddy issues. Spoiler? But you grew up so sheltered because your dad believed your family was cursed, and made you scared to be in the world. Price is so big and solid and comforting, older and bearlike... you definitely could call him daddy :')

Johnny who's got you flustered and blushing the entire way, even when you're miserable, when you're beyond travel weary. He's carefree about touch and space, and for someone who grew up locked in a single space for so long, you're like putty at the simplest touches from him

Simon's a wildcard. He wears a bandana, which makes everyone but the company nervous, and he's always riding off. You rarely see him, but you're mesmerized by his pale eyes and pale lashes, his scars and his story. He kind of hates you for how you don't seem to know like... anything. He let's the others care for you, counting the days until they can meet up with Kate and abandon you for dead with all your ma and pas jewelry and valuables and onto the next robbery... unless (0)o(0)

Also the guy you're meant to marry is graves LOL. Your family is deep in the railway industry and filthy rich and graves is buying up land and planting vineyards. Hes getting rich off of wine :') that's the story in my head

Plsss forgive me if this has already been written!!! I had a dream about it and I couldn't remember if it was something I'd read, or something I thought up. I looked around tumblr and ao3 for anything but couldn't find anything. Pleaseeeeee contact me if its your idea, I'm terrified of accidentally plagiarizing lol

[chaotic-archaeologist]

https://nypost.com/2024/08/28/world-news/boy-4-accidentally-smashes-bronze-age-jar-that-was-at-least-3500-years-old/

Your thoughts?

Personally, I'm kinda sick of museums being required to cater to kids so much. If you're going to do this open air exhibit, kids who don't know how to keep their hands to themselves just shouldn't be allowed in. The glass is there for this very reason.

Actually, I'm with the museum on this one. Is it unfortunate that the vase was broken? Yes. Was the vase a valuable piece of the past? Also yes. But I think the museum did something very cool by not having the artifacts behind glass and are handling this with good grace and the sense to make this a learning opportunity.

Sometimes we overlook the fact that museums often attempt to arrest or freeze artifacts in time. They are kept in controlled conditions to prevent them from deteriorating and even treated to reverse damage. Many things on display on museums are elevated beyond their original value, alienated from their original purpose, and closed off from interaction.

It's incredible that this jar survived as long as it did��and its age is what makes it special—but at the end of the day, it is still a jar. It has now experienced the thing that happens to pretty much every jar that has been or will be. After all, decay is an extant form of life. (If you want to read a very well written and interesting take on decay and archaeology, check out this article by Caitlin DeSilvey.)

The article I linked above provides some important context and the update that the museum is planning on using this as an opportunity to teach about the conservation process. The jar's story is not over; it is being pieced back together and in this next chapter in its life it will be able to tell two stories: one of its life and the other of its rebirth. The museum's approach embraces that, exactly like the Japanese art of Kintsugi.

I also agree with the museum's decision not to punish the child or his family. Things go wrong in museums all the time despite their highly controlled environments, and this is why they have artifacts insured. Sometimes the thing that happens is a child, and by and large museums do not seek damages.

I would encourage you to rethink your stance on museums and children. Museums are for everyone. Children have a right to experience museums and what they have to offer just like anyone else. There are also many studies that discuss how going to museums benefits children.

In this case, perhaps the exhibit design was slightly flawed, but the four year old boy accidentally knocked the jar over because he was curious about what was inside and wanted to investigate. Curiosity is exactly what museums should be encouraging. In an ideal world that curiosity would have been channeled into some other kind of engagement, but the folks who work in museums have a lot on their plates and cannot plan everything perfectly all the time. Even if they could, they often do not have the resources to do so.

Finally, the AP article mentions that the boy and his family were visiting the museum to get away from Hezbollah rocket fire. Regardless of your opinions on the current conflict, everyone deserves to have a safe place to exist. That museums can serve as those spaces is an honor.

I commend the Hecht Museum and the people working there. They 1) successfully provided a place of learning and refuge, 2) opted not for a punitive approach—which is often the default Western model for justice—but a compassionate one, and 3) are using this twist of fate to create programming that will further engage the public.

@museeeuuuum and @museum-spaces would you care to comment?

-Reid

[megalony]

Commitment

This is a new Dark! Evan Buckley imagine, requested by anon. I hope you will all like it.

Please keep the Dark! ideas coming as I am loving writing them.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

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Dark! Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: (Y/n) decides she and Evan need to take a break when his overbearing nature becomes a bit too much to handle. But Evan will get her back in any way he can.

Enjoy.

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"I- I can't do this, Evan."

Tears trekked down (Y/n)'s face despite how badly she tried to rub them away and drag her nails down her skin to somehow calm herself down. She could feel her arms trembling and her legs felt like they were turning to stone, locking her in place even though everything in her was telling her to run.

She could feel her palms sweating and each breath she took ran away from her until she was practically gasping.

Her arms moved to coil around her waist but when Evan took a step closer to her, she managed to take a step back and keep an air of distance between them.

She couldn't let him get close. She couldn't let Evan reel her back in and trap her in his web.

"Do what? You can't be with me anymore? Are you telling me you don't love me anymore?" There was an air of ridicule in his sarcastic voice and the way his upper lip curled made (Y/n) wince and coil in on herself.

"You know I love you." Defiance broke out in her body and she curled her hands into fists, cutting them through the air to wave them at her sides like she wanted to lash out and hit something.

Evan knew that. He knew (Y/n) loved him, she loved him more than she had ever loved anyone in her entire life, but she couldn't keep doing this.

She couldn't constantly be under his surveillance, being observed and watched and checked on every moment of the day. She couldn't spend each day telling him her plans so he knew exactly what she was doing and where she was going. (Y/n) couldn't be suffocated and be the source of obsession for Evan.

Their relationship was the best thing that ever happened to her, but it was also consuming and twisting and turning Evan into someone she didn't recognise. He was becoming obsessive and that wasn't the person he was when he was with everyone else.

"So why are you doing this?" The way Evan flung his fist out into the wall had (Y/n) recoiling towards the front door. She knew he wouldn't lash out specifically at her, he would never hit her. But she didn't know what he would do when she tried to walk out that door.

He could block or barricade her inside. He could grab her and hold her and effectively pin her down so she couldn't leave. He had ten times more strength and force than she did and (Y/n) didn't want to think what measures Evan would go to if pushed.

"You're suffocating me." Tears streamed down (Y/n)'s face as she tried not to hiccup through her words. "We need a break- I need some space, just for a while."

"If you love me we don't need a break-"

"I need space!"

"From me?!" Evan's voice made (Y/n) feel like she was going insane. He looked at her as if she were holding someone's severed head in her hand. As if she had said something so utterly strange and ludacris that it couldn't possibly be true.

How could she need space from him? Didn't she love him? Couldn't she see that Evan couldn't breathe without her? Let alone live without seeing (Y/n) each and every day. She couldn't leave him. She couldn't walk away, Evan needed her and he knew she wanted and needed him just as much.

"Yes." She croaked, moving her hand to brush away the tears. "You need to- Evan you need to let me do things on my own. Let me be by myself, let me think for myself and calm down, please. Please, Evan."

The way his upper lip curled had (Y/n) shrinking in on herself and she hated to see his reddened eyes streaming tears like that. She hated how distressed she was making him and how he could barely take a proper breath from the anger radiating through him.

She leaned to one side and picked up the bag she had hastily packed mid-argument with Evan. She clung to the bag like it was her lifeline, her ticket to a better space of mind and a path that would stop her from feeling confined, controlled and possessed.

"You- you want me to let you walk out and leave me? When I don't know if you're even coming back? No. Baby you can't do this-"

"I'll see you later."

"(Y/n) no!"

Shudders tore through her body and a cry broke past her lips when she heard something smash. She didn't know what it was and she didn't want to know. Her trembling body bolted out the front door before Evan had chance to reach for her and pull her back.

She wasn't walking out of his life forever. She wasn't even saying they had to break up. They just needed some time to themselves. Time to figure things out, to calm down and see if things could change for the better.

But Evan didn't want things to change.

His fist rammed into the wall harsh enough to dent the plaster and split his knuckles open. Blood splattered up the back of his hand as a scream tore past his lips.

He didn't want things to change. (Y/n) was his girl. He loved her. He loved every bone in her body and he wanted her in every single sense of the word. They were meant to be together and they completed each other. Why did she want to change that? Why did she think how he loved her wasn't right or wasn't enough?

She had to come back to him. He couldn't live without her.

The sound of her phone vibrating on the desk sent a shockwave rattling through (Y/n)'s heart.

She didn't want to look. She didn't want to glance down and see who was calling, because she already knew. The way her heart thundered against her chest and jumped up into her throat told (Y/n) all she needed to know. Instinct told her who was calling and she knew she couldn't answer. She had to protect herself and abstain from the phone.

Her hands began to scratch up and down the back of her neck, drawing lines into her skin in a vain attempt to calm herself down, but it wasn't working.

She had to look.

Her eyes darted down to the phone on the desk and she swallowed down whatever cry was burning at the back of her throat when she read the name.

'Babe <3'

She hadn't even changed his name in her contacts. That showed how much she still loved Evan and the faith she had that they might be able to patch things back together soon. Somehow.

She watched her phone, scrutinising the screen until the call finally ended and the missed call notification popped up on the screen. But almost immediately after, (Y/n) watched the texts light up her screen. One after the other. Again and again, matching all the other texts she had ignored and ceased to reply to.

Her eyes scanned the room but she could barely take note of anyone around her at work. All she noticed was the tears blurring her vision and the way her body was trembling back and forth, her lungs unable to take in a proper breath.

With her phone swiped from the desk, (Y/n) scrambled from her seat and tried to make a brisk walk towards the toilets. She needed a minute to compose herself and if she didn't look over those messages now, she would only sit and stew and worry about them all afternoon. Her mind wouldn't be on her work, it would be forever stuck on Evan. As usual.

She was glad no one else was in the toilets when she got in there and subsequently locked herself in the end cubicle. The aircon was on in the toilets but (Y/n) already felt like she was starting to boil over like she was a wax work starting to melt.

Her hands shook as she unlocked her phone and tried to scroll through the messages.

3 missed calls from 'Babe <3'

*Baby we can't keep going on like this, I need to talk to you. Answer my calls, please. x

*I'm going out of my mind here, I don't know what to do. We have to talk. x

*You can't keep on ignoring me, just let me talk to you. I'll do better, I'll do anything. Please!!! x

(Y/n) wasn't sure how else she could get the message through to Evan that he was suffocating her. She told him she needed space, but bombarding her with at least five phone calls a day and a dozen messages didn't count as giving her any space.

She could understand Evan's state of panic, she really could. He was insecure in relationships and now their relationship was in limbo and Evan didn't know what to do. But if he just gave in and let (Y/n) have a few days to herself, things would be easier. For the last two weeks he had messaged and tried to call every day.

(Y/n) had the good sense not to tell Evan where she was staying, although she knew he was doing his best to try and find out where she was. If he found out, he would be round like a shot and he wouldn't leave until they were back together, one way or another.

Things were just moving too fast. (Y/n) couldn't handle the overprotective nature that flared up in Evan once he had fallen for her. He worried about her, he wanted to know where she was, what she was doing, who she was going out with. If her phone pinged he wanted to see who was messaging her. If he didn't know where she was he would message her until she told him.

When they were together things were okay. (Y/n) loved Evan's loving nature and it was endearing how he only had eyes for her and wanted to wrap himself around her like a vine.

But (Y/n) hadn't long moved in with Evan when he started talking about the future and having a family together and wanting to get a proper home together rather than just his small apartment. (Y/n) wasn't sure she was ready for that yet. She didn't want to pause her career to have a baby right now, and she and Evan may be in love, but they hadn't been together for that long. A family was a big commitment and so was buying a home together.

(Y/n) could feel the panic dwelling up inside of her again when she reread the messages she had received today. She read them until the words were ingrained on her memory and flashed before her eyes when they closed. She could see the words dancing around in her mind and she couldn't prevent the whimper from leaving her lips.

Her body slumped down until her knees hit the tiled floor and she twisted to the side just in time to throw up into the toilet.

Walking out on Evan had put an immense strain on (Y/n)'s nerves. Her anxiety was going haywire, she could barely turn up to work without having a panic attack and the unease was constantly making her feel sick.

Tears trickled down her face and her stomach tensed and pulled inwards while her chest curved and imbedded around the toilet seat. She unconsciously started to rock back and forth as her throat burned and she felt like closing her eyes and curling up into a ball. She just wanted to disappear.

Her body shuddered and a groan ellicited from her lips when her phone vibrated on her lap again. Oh no. Another message.

Her hand trembled as she reached down for her phone and pulled away from the toilet, swiping her sleeve beneath her eyes so she could read the message clearly.

It wasn't Evan.

*Hey, we're having a little halloween fayre at the station next Saturday. It'd be great if you could tag along, we'd all love to see you. x

It was Bobby. When (Y/n) got together with Evan, she became close to his team, they were like another family to (Y/n). Bobby was always inviting her and Evan round for meals and the team invited her with them out to drinks and social events.

And whenever there was an event on at the station, (Y/n) always went along. But she had always been there was Evan's girlfriend, not just as a friend of the team.

But Bobby was asking her to go, the team wanted to see her, and (Y/n) loved the team. She wanted to see them, and if she went it might be a way to build some bridges between her and Evan and make sure things stayed okay between her and the team. Going might make things a little easier, and Bobby had asked so nicely, (Y/n) wasn't sure she could refuse.

Her sleeve swiped beneath her nose and she shifted round to sit on her bum rather than her knees which were now aching and turning numb. She leaned her weight back against the cubicle wall and tilted her head back, catching her breaths again to try and calm herself down. She would have to get back to work in a minute before anyone realised she had disappeared.

*I'll be there. x

***

The station was brimming with life and music and laughter.

It was strange to see such a place of professionalism and emergencies and dire situations seem so relaxed and laid back like this. A fayre wasn't the kind of thing one would expect to find at a fire station which was the centre of events and mishaps and stern situations and solutions.

(Y/n) smoothed down the creases in her dress and tightened her hand around her bag that hung off her arm. She could feel her nails piercing into the leather handle of her bag and she knew if she gripped any tighter there would be puncture marks forever indented into the leather.

Each breath she took seemed to run away without her and she could feel her stomach churning with indecision and panic. Adrenaline was constantly swarming through her blood. She couldn't do anything but panic.

What was Evan going to be like when he saw her? Would be be angry? Would he try and attach himself to her? Would be ignore her completely and pretend she didn't exist? Would he hound her and stick to her or make some kind of a scene? Surely not, since this was his work place and he was always professional when on shift.

(Y/n) didn't know what would be worse, having Evan attach himself to her or pretend she wasn't even here.

Her free hand started to scratch at the back of her neck as she walked in on trembling legs. Her eyes flitted about the station, taking in the little stalls lining the right side of the station so everyone would be away from the trucks and the ambulance, in case of an emergency.

People were milling about, looking at the different things on offer, the drinks, the craft stall, the pumpkin carving area, and of course the station was littered with hundreds of pumpkins all carved with scary designs. Fake cobwebs were on the stairs and little paper bats were hung high from the beams on the ceiling.

It looked enticing and spooky. The music was clearly a halloween playlist too, Monster Mash being the one that was flooding the speakers right now. The team were forever throwing parties, although not many of them happened at the station.

This was different though. This was for Halloween, allowing kids to come in and do some crafts, colour some pictures that the team would hang up on the bill board downstairs. They could carve their own pumpkins, paint them, take them home or leave them to decorate the station.

And when (Y/n) looked to the left, she felt her heart jumping into her throat when she realised who was manning the sweet station. Evan. Of course he was the one handing out sweets to the kids and telling them all sorts of fun facts he had learned about Halloween.

There was something so soft and sweet about seeing Evan interacting with kids. It was something that made (Y/n) certain that he would be an amazing dad one day. Even though he was desperate for that day to be now, and (Y/n) wasn't so sure about the timing.

She tore her eyes away from the sight before it overwhelmed her heart and she ended up catching his eye. She turned towards the right and slowly ventured over to where Bobby was sat doing some colouring with two younger kids.

"Can I join?" Her voice was soft and her smile felt more genuine when Bobby looked over his shoulder and grinned up at her. He waved her over and moved a small plastic chair for her to sit in.

"Of course. Glad you could make it."

"Hi there." (Y/n) sat down next to the little boy who couldn't have been more than four years old.

She was surprised how brightly he smiled up at her and when she softly whispered "What are we colouring?" he slid a colouring page over to her. He held up the picture of a witch on a broom that he was colouring while Bobby handed a few colours to (Y/n) and the little girl sat on his left.

"So, how are you?" Bobby glanced across at (Y/n) as she decided what colours to use and began shading a pumpkin.

"I'm doing good, thanks. How's everything here?" It was a lie. She wasn't doing well. Being so anxious and upset that she was throwing up every other day and unable to keep any food down, didn't count as good. But (Y/n) would never admit that to anyone, especially not Bobby.

She didn't want him to worry and she knew he would talk to Evan, and (Y/n) couldn't have him worrying. He had only just gone down to two phone calls a day and the odd message throughout the day. If he knew she was still panicking about being apart and the state of their relationship, his anxiety would flare up too and so would his protective side.

She was glad Bobby smiled and seemed to take her lie at face value and he didn't eye her up and down like he thought she was hiding the truth, which meant he believed her.

"The same as always, here. And you know, you can always drop by whenever you like, you're always welcome here. I know things aren't easy at the moment, while you and Buck are sorting stuff out."

(Y/n) wasn't sure what Evan had said about their relationship. She wasn't even sure what she herself would say about them if she were asked.

They hadn't technically broken up, but they weren't strictly together right now. They were paused, waiting in motion to see if things could change for the better. But (Y/n) knew this couldn't go on for much longer.

"Thank you."

She continued colouring and made some small talk with the little boy next to her. She found herself relaxing, even through the headache that burned in her temple and the sparks of panic and adrenaline that jolted through her system every now and then.

(Y/n) nodded and smiled when Bobby excused himself from the table to go and socialise with a few newcomers who were entering the station.

For a little while, she stayed content with the two children, all of them switching colours and making small talk about their favourite aspects of Halloween.

But just as (Y/n) finished her drawing, she paused and tilted her head back when she felt an all-too familiar pair of hands on her shoulders.

A shiver tore down her spine and her lungs seized up in panic when she stared up at Evan's clean-shaven face. His curls looked unruly and all over the place, like he had been wind swept or just woken up from a nap without the chance to drag a brush through his hair.

His expression was oddly calm and soft and the way his cheeks creased as he smiled down at her made (Y/n)'s stomach flutter. She could feel her heart suddenly pounding in her chest like it was making a desperate attempt to break free from her chest and reach out for Evan.

The way his fingers stroked over her shoulders was oddly soothing and his smile reassured her that he wasn't angry to see her here and he wasn't going to cause a scene either.

"Hi," (Y/n) set down the pencil in her hand and leaned back in her seat to look up at Evan properly. The smile she forced on her lips seemed to enlighten him because he took a deep breath and his own lips curved wider.

"Are you okay? I'm glad you're here."

"You are?" She couldn't help the air of surprise in her voice as she turned a little so she didn't have to tilt her head back to see him. But she was taken back when Evan let go of her shoulders and leaned forwards. He folded his arms on the back of her chair and leaned close to her as he nodded.

The way he hummed in her ear had (Y/n) shivering and brushing her cheek against her shoulder to rid the pins and needles that boiled through her skin.

"Can we talk?" Evan's voice sounded so soft in her ear, like velvet and he was calm and supressing the eagerness within him that was desperate to be around her.

"Sure."

(Y/n) nodded. She couldn't refuse to talk to him, she knew coming here posed the risk of finally airing things out and talking to Evan and that was what they needed to do sooner or later. They may as well talk now. It was a safe environment and if things got heated (Y/n) could walk away and Evan could calm down. They couldn't argue here at his place of work so it would always end up being a civil conversation.

She leaned close to the little boy on her right when he held up his finished masterpiece. "It's perfect; if you go give it to Bobby, he will pin it on the board for you."

The little boy was off like a shot with the young girl following close behind him, clearly wanting her picture to be shown off too.

Once they toddled off, (Y/n) pushed her chair back and got to her feet, tucking her bag safely beneath the table because she could see Hen walking over. Hen would know whose bag it was and make sure it stayed safe and didn't get pinched.

(Y/n) tried her best to control her breathing when Evan reached down and took her hand. His fingers slid between hers and their palms pressed together like puzzle pieces slotting into place. He gave her hand a tight squeeze before he steered off in a rather fast pace.

She thought he would guide her outside the doors to talk so no one could listen in but he would still be nearby if anyone needed him. She wasn't expecting Evan to steer her past the fire truck, down a small corridor near Bobby's office and into a room on the right.

The bunker room. It was the middle of the afternoon, no body was trying to catch a power nap right now. Everyone was out front with the visitors or cleaning up or stocking the trucks, and Evan knew this. He knew the bunker room would be empty.

It was secluded and private and gave them space and time to talk without anyone looking over or listening in. And it would give him chance to worm his way back into (Y/n)'s good graces.

Once they were inside, (Y/n) wasn't sure what to do with herself. She didn't know whether to go and sit down on one of the beds or stand near the door or lean casually against the wall. She had no idea what she was supposed to do in this situation.

So she settled on taking a few steps away from the door so it didn't look like she was hanging by to make a quick exit. (Y/n) stood beside one of the beds and let her hip slouch against the bed frame and folded her arms over her lower chest.

The smile on her face felt more genuine when she looked up at Evan and noted the way he was smiling at her. His teeth were nibbling at his bottom lip like he wasn't sure what to do with himself either.

"Are you okay?" She could guess by the constant phone calls and all the messages he sent that no, he hadn't been doing well these past weeks they had been apart. But it felt necessary to ask, to check and see if he would answer and be honest.

"I am now you're here, did Bobby ask you to come by?" Evan took a few steps closer, feeling like (Y/n) was some kind of siren drawing him closer.

Just looking at her was sending his heart into a frenzy and he knew the moment his hands found her body, there would be no turning back. He wouldn't be able to pull away from her or let her go once he had her back in his arms. And Evan knew once he was wrapped around her, (Y/n) wouldn't be able to stay away from him either.

"Yeah."

"I miss you." His voice was so sincere and quiet that (Y/n) almost thought she'd imagined it.

Her smile melted at the corners and she rolled her lips together, holding her head up straight when Evan advanced further until there was one inch of space between them.

His hands found her hips, causing her back to straighten up and she could feel his fingers squeezing into her sides. But it was his eyes that made (Y/n)'s brain stop working. Those eyes bore into her like he was casting a spell, trying to enchant her and subdue her somehow.

"I've missed you too." She dared to reach up and give his arm a squeeze, (Y/n) wanted this conversation to stay friendly and warm, unlike their last confrontation.

She could see her words ignited something inside Evan. His smile broadened from something warm to something sharp and pointed and his nose crinkled up in a way that made (Y/n) want to reach out for him.

"Will you come home? We've had space, but it's not working when we clearly want to be together. I'll be better, I swear, I'll do whatever you want to make this work."

The sincerity in Evan's words made (Y/n)'s knees quiver and she was sure he sensed it because he held her hips tighter.

"Evan… you know I love you, but-"

It was like a switch flicked inside of him the moment those words passed her lips. Evan couldn't help himself. He tugged on her hips until her chest was flush up against his and he swooped down, attaching his lips to hers. He stole the air from her lungs and sucked her lower lip between his teeth, desperate to bite down and see if she tasted as sugary as she looked.

It felt like he hadn't touched or kissed her in years. Weeks had dragged on for what felt like months. Having her back in his arms made Evan feel like he had been starved. Not having (Y/n) around was torture, and he couldn't go through that separation again.

He wouldn't let her walk away from him again, his heart couldn't take it.

He felt the way her hands moved to grip his shoulders, clinging tightly to steady herself and when she pulled back for a gasp for air, Evan dove right back down again. He reeled her back in for another kiss, worming his arms tightly around her waist with his hand planted down in the centre of her back to keep her steady.

"Say it again." Each word was muttered seductively against her lips and (Y/n) didn't dare open her eyes and see how intoxicated he looked right now. She could feel the need radiating off of him in waves.

She didn't want to. She didn't want to say those three little words that had clearly switched Evan on and made him come to life. She didn't want to lead him on or carry on down this path. They were meant to be talking, not falling into each other's arms like this.

Her chest tightened and she did her best not to make a sound when Evan's hands suddenly slithered down her waist. She didn't dare think what he was doing as his lips continued to work against hers, barely letting her up for air before he consumed her again. But her eyes shot open and she made a sharp noise against his lips when she felt where his hands were wandering to.

He took great pleasure in pulling up the hem of her dress so he could worm his hands up the back of her thighs and around to cup her bum.

She tried to pant his name against his lips but she pushed up on her toes, inadvertently pushing further into Evan's chest when his fingers squeezed into her flesh and his lips parted from hers.

He began peppering little pecks and kisses down her jaw until his head was inclined and his lips were attached to the side of her neck.

(Y/n) could feel herself itching in her shoes, desperate to push him away because she could feel his teeth grazing against her skin. He was like a vampire; always had been. (Y/n) knew when he bared his teeth he was about to strike, about to sink them into her flesh and create large bruises and indents into her skin.

She couldn't let him do that. Not here, not when he was on shift and this was a party event, they couldn't be doing this right now.

"Evan…" Her hands pushed at his shoulders but it was a feeble attempt and they both knew it. Her neck was like a button and it turned off her senses. They both knew (Y/n) had a weak spot for Evan's kisses, especially when he was practically worshipping her when he was doing this.

He always knew how to make her feel like the only person in the world worth being with. It proved that (Y/n) was the only person in Evan's life; the only one in his world that he had eyes for, that he wanted to touch and kiss and pull into his arms like this.

"You look beautiful, you know."

(Y/n) knew if Evan's arms hadn't been tightly pressing into her waist to hold her up, she would of melted to the floor at the sound of his sickly sweet voice.

It made her inwardly laugh that he loved to tell her how beautiful she looked, but he was more interested in taking the dress off than he was admiring her wearing it. She could feel his right hand travelling round to give a sharp tug on the hem of her dress that was currently bunched up near her hip. If anyone walked in at this moment they would get an eye full.

"Wearing my favourite colour," His words were so quiet (Y/n) had to strain to keep her focus on him. And when he gave a sharp tug on her dress and pulled it up higher than her hip, her hand hurriedly reached down to clamp around his arm. She couldn't have him taking her dress off here. Anyone could walk in. He was still on shift. People would start to wonder where they got to.

She could feel herself becoming light headed and she leaned forward to drop her head onto Evan's shoulder. With her weight pushing forward on him, it allowed (Y/n) to nudge him back a few steps so she wasn't leaning against one of the cot beds anymore.

"Can't just stand there and not touch you." He murmured into her neck, but this time, there was a growling edge to his voice that had pins and needles flowing through (Y/n)'s blood.

"We're s-supposed to be talking," (Y/n) squeezed his shoulders to try and catch his attention. But she switched to cupping his face in her palms instead so she could reel his head up to keep them both level and keep his lips away from her neck.

"We are talking," He paused to steal another kiss, earning a quiet groan from (Y/n) in response. "Come on, say you'll be my girl again."

"Okay. We can talk at home." Her thumbs brushed across Evan's sharp cheekbones that always felt like they could give paper cuts if pressed hard enough.

She watched the light sparkle in his eyes and it made her feel even more lightheaded than before. Her head seemed to spin around her and she swayed back and forth until Evan moved his hands to hold her hips again. She could feel her dress ruffled around her hips and pulled up high on her thighs from where it was still trapped between Evan's fingers that were woven into the fabric and clamped down on her hips.

"You'll come home, tonight?"

"What time do you finish?"

It wasn't worth trying to talk this out with Evan here and now, the only thing that was guaranteed to happen was for someone to walk in on them having relations while Evan was still on shift. It would be easier to go home and talk when he finished work, besides, most of (Y/n)'s things were still at the apartment. It was her way of showing him she wasn't walking away and never coming back. They could talk through everything tonight and sort things out properly. They would have all the time in the world to talk tonight.

She felt hum mutter "Six," against her lips before he was pushing her back and (Y/n) was far from stupid, she knew he was aiming to push her down on one of the beds. But she tried to plant her heels into the floor and push on his shoulders.

"We need to- Evan- Evan no, we have to get back out there." Her fingers squeezed tightly into his shoulders and she tilted her head back out of his way to make the message get through. She had been lenient, but she wasn't going to compromise his job and get him into trouble if someone caught them.

And she was still feeling like her head was swimming through a fog and leaving her far behind. If she laid down on one of those beds, (Y/n) knew she might not get back up again.

Evan pressed a lasting kiss to her lips and wove his arm around her waist, tucking her into his side before he finally let her move. When they moved towards the door, he was ignited with adrenaline and excitement when (Y/n) held his hand.

He loved the feeling of her head leaning on his shoulder and the way she pushed her weight into him when they walked out the room. He couldn't stop from glancing down at her, supressing a chuckle when he watched her try to sort out her dress and smooth out the creases he had caused. He much preferred to see her dress bunched around her hips, showing off her underwear that was probably skewed out of place too. But he wouldn't want anyone else getting that lovely sight.

He felt even more invigorated when (Y/n) didn't let go of his hand once they were back on the station floor. He loved how she seemed to cling to him tighter and lean her weight onto him like she didn't hold the strength to keep herself upright. He wanted them to be like this all the time.

He wanted to kiss her every chance he got and feel her huddled up into his side for as long as possible.

"We thought you'd got lost." Eddie looked the pair of them up and down with one raised brow and a coy smile when he walked past them, clearly aiming for the locker room to go grab something. He patted Evan's shoulder as he passed while (Y/n) leaned a bit more into Evan.

The anxiety she felt when she turned up here had dwindled down significantly, but she still felt uneasy. It was probably all the adrenaline she'd been living off for the past few weeks, and the fact that she hadn't eaten tea last night or breakfast today. She had been too nervous and pent up.

And now, knowing that later tonight she and Evan would have to talk properly before anything went back to a sense of normality between them, (Y/n) could feel her mind racing again.

Just the thought of what they would talk about tonight was overwhelming and it was combining badly with her twisting, tensing stomach.

"Let's grab a drink."

(Y/n) let Evan steer them both towards the drinks table towards the back of the station. She tried to force herself to smile when she saw Hen stood at the drinks table, pouring some juice into plastic cups decorated with skulls and pumpkins.

But her smile didn't reach her eyes and the more they walked, the more dizzy she started to feel.

By the time they got to the table, (Y/n) meshed her face into Evan's bicep and leaned heavily against him until she was sure he was holding almost all of her weight up for her. She felt like she was tilting forward, like she was stood on a ledge about to fall off and one more inch forwards would make her topple over. She didn't feel well.

She was sure Evan said something, but she couldn't hear him over the sound of her blood surging through her ears, hammering away like a drumbeat.

"You okay?" Evan looked down at her as she clung to his left arm, seemingly refusing to look up at him. Was she worried what the team would say or think? Did she suddenly not want to be at the station anymore?

He moved his right hand to cup the side of her neck, tracing his thumb along the edge of her jaw while he cautiously tilted her head back. Evan's eyes narrowed when he looked down at (Y/n). Tilting her head seemed to make her sway and he could feel her head lolling backwards, causing him to tighten his grip on her neck to try and hold her steady.

She didn't look very well and Evan wasn't sure she was actually looking at him. Her eyes were constricted and looking off into the distance rather than looking up at him.

"I th- I'm gonna…"

A groan burst past Evan's lips when (Y/n)'s head suddenly bashed into his chest and her weight fell forward into him. He let go of her neck in favour of binding both arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest so she didn't slump down to the floor.

She'd fainted.

Evan felt her head loll into his chest before she seemed to slump to the right and her head lolled to one side.

"Fuck." He switched one hand to grab the back of her head, holding her in place against his chest while he bent down until he was knelt on the floor with (Y/n) slumped up against him. His thumb stroked her skin and he carefully laid her down between his thighs, her back up against his chest and her head pressed against his arm.

He stroked his hand up and down her chest while his other hand pressed against her temple. She wasn't flushed or burning up and he could feel her breathing steady, her chest rising and falling against his hand.

"Is she not feeling well?" Hen left the table in favour of kneeling down beside them and she reached out for (Y/n)'s wrist to check her pulse. While Chimney steadily aimed their way with one of the medic bags in hand.

"Clearly not," Evan muttered quietly as he moved his hand to rub up and down her arm to try and stimulate her and bring her back around.

He could feel relief swelling up in his chest when (Y/n)'s head turned a little into his chest and the quietest murmur passed her parted lips. She was starting to come around. He looked over at Hen when she found the blood pressure cuff in the medic bag and took a reading. And Evan was glad she did that while (Y/n) was still out of it; he knew she hated having that done, it always made her feel lightheaded and nervous.

"BP's quite low, maybe a trip to the doctor might be a good idea."

Evan was suddenly glad (Y/n) had turned up today because he just knew if this happened when he wasn't around, she wasn't likely to tell him about it. That was why he liked to know what was going on when he wasn't home. What if something like this happened when she was out and he had no idea? If something happened to her and Evan didn't know where she was then he had no way of getting to her.

He had to know these things, Evan had to know so he could always have control over the situation.

***

"Okay, well we've had your blood results back, and your BP is steadily climbing back up which is good."

"I told you I'm fine." (Y/n) looked from the nurse across to Evan as if the pair of them were in on a cahoot to keep (Y/n) here. She told the team she didn't need to come down to see a doctor, she said she was fine and she just felt a bit unsteady. No one took no for an answer. When she could barely stand up, they practically carried her to the car and told Evan to take her to the doctor to be sure.

She had been glad Evan was the one to bring her down because he caught her again when she blacked out as soon as the needle was in her arm for her bloods to be taken.

She felt silly, coming down here when she was just anxious and pent up, there was nothing wrong with her and she felt like she was wasting their time.

"Yes, well, liver and kidney function is all good but you are lacking a few vitamins and you're very low on iron."

Her eyes glanced to the right to look over at Evan who gave her a pointed look. That may not be something urgent but it was clearly a good job she came down to get checked out.

"But there is a reason for that, your results show that you're pregnant. Congratulations."

(Y/n) felt like her head was swelling up with air and she planted both hands down on the bed either side of her to keep herself sitting upright so she didn't suddenly topple down. It was a good job she was sitting down because she knew her knees would of given way at that news.

Pregnant.

They were having a baby. One of the reasons she and Evan had argued was because this was the path he wanted to go down and although (Y/n) wanted kids, she thought it was rather sudden. They hadn't long moved in together and Evan had frightened her talking about getting a house together.

But if she was pregnant now, then a house was clearly the next step that they were going to have to take sooner rather than later. They couldn't cramp a baby into the bedroom with them at the apartment, there was only one bedroom after all and they would need space with a baby around.

She barely felt Evan's hand cupping the back of her neck, but she leaned into his touch when he smothered his lips against her temple. She could feel him smiling into her skin and the quiet laugh he let out made her heart jump and pick up pace and she was glad she wasn't on an ECG monitor for that to show.

"We're having a baby."

When Evan perched down on the side of the bed just as the nurse left them to talk about 'the good news', (Y/n) curled her hands around his arm and leaned into him. She laid her cheek on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

A baby. Evan was good with kids, this was the life he'd always wanted and he was going to be amazing with a baby of their own. As long as that possessive, controlling streak within him didn't flare up and get worse now that she was pregnant. And it couldn't get in the way with a baby around. (Y/n) couldn't be telling Evan her every move and have him becoming angry or overwrought if he didn't know where she or the baby were at every moment of the day.

Evan kissed the top of her head again and again, unable to wipe the smile off his face. This is what they talked about. Granted, they had differed in opinion on this subject, but they would be in full agreement now. This is what they wanted. This is all Evan had dreamed about.

He wanted this to happen. He had been praying for this to happen. He knew (Y/n) hadn't thought about having kids yet, the reason she had been saying they should keep using protection- something Evan had forgone quite a few times for this very reason.

"A baby," (Y/n) uttered as a small smile pulled at her lips when Evan held her tighter and pecked her temple again. She had no idea. She didn't even suspect she might be pregnant.

This was a good thing. It had to be, didn't it?

[rassicas]

hello!! lately i've been thinking about houses/interiors in splatoon as i've been pondering some up for my ocs, & i was wondering if there's any info on them in canon? so far the best that comes to mind is the splat 1 loading screen & that new art of acht, but I was curious on if there's anything about apartments & interiors specifically... tysm! :-]

Unfortunately we don't have much, and considering how much living spaces vary in real life even within the same culture, it's hard to say x thing applies to all splatoon households. the game developers are japanese, the game takes place in japan, and takes inspiration from japanese culture and daily life. taking that into consideration, where canon fails, i use modern japanese living spaces as a reference for imagining what an interior may look like in inkadia. headcanon aside. time to dig up what canon info i've found regarding homes and living spaces

In the Octotune album booklet we get one of the few examples of an inkling home interior, the Houzuki mansion. though pearl, as well all know, is Insanely Fucking Rich and our average inkling is NOT going to be living this luxuriously. one useful tidbit we can get from the text is this:

Q5: Wow! Is this the garage? Pearl: That's just the shoe storage, man.

the word she's using for shoe storage is ゲタばこ which is a cubby you're meant to put your shoes in before entering a house, located in an entryway. in other words, implying a cultural norm of taking your shoes off before entering (something adhered to more strictly in japan vs america). not like this is really followed in official art showing inkfish at home (except for this s1 era piece of an inkling watching tv) probs because shoes are cooler lol

let's see what else ummm bedding.

s1 and s3 dialogue for flounder heights mention futons. traditional japanese bedding typically laid out on the floor when in use, and folded up and put away in a big cubby during the day. its a common sight to see them hung out in the sun on the balcony to not get moldy. some of those things draped over the railings in flounder heights are futons.

not everyone in japan does this though- youll still see western style beds or even futons on bed frames since taking it out and putting it away is a pain in the ass. also not every apartment has a built in proper futon storage space. (...mine does, but i repurposed it into another closet and just use western style bedding lol)

same is true for inkadians too -the bed in the s1 splashscreen doesnt look like a futon to me. point is there's options for what do with the bed situation.

speaking of the apartment splashscreen for s1, there is a blurb in the artbook about it and how inklings are typically pretty tidy with their living spaces.

im sure there's plenty of messy inklings too. anyway there's just a few tidbits about living spaces in relation to canon info. unfortunately there's Nothing about the bathroom or how they bathe, though previously i shared my headcanons about how i think that could work. for the kitchen i think all we can do is assume. Acht has a fridge how surprising /s at the start i mentioned that i take inspo from japanese life where canon fails. ive spent a few years in japan so this works conveniently for me LOL but i assume most people following me do not have that experience. so for those who wanna take that japan inspo too, here's a few small things that are different in japanese living spaces that ive thought may be true for inkopolis? -living spaces are so much smaller on average (of course) -washing machines do not use heated water and like Nobody has a drier in their house. laundry is hung on the balcony, or by the window if there is none, to dry. you want a drying machine? go to the laundromat. -big ovens? like for baking? casseroles? this is Rare in japanese homes. more likely youll see like a little toaster oven. microwaves with an oven setting. i have a gas stove with a fish grill drawer like this. ive never seen this in america but i KNOW in my heart inklings would have this -tiniest fucking kitchens sometimes. a pattern ive often seen for little one room apartments is a pathetic kitchen space in the hall between the entrance and bedtoom where its like. one sink. and space for an electric burner. you want counter space go fuck yourself. if youre a broke inkling who doesnt cook much this may be the option for you. -i think every house ive been in has had a genkan in some form.

[leog4u]

a post i wanted to make for a few days now, when i was calmer

when the genocide started last year i went into a depression, because i knew the past decades of islamaphobia were leading up to this. again. so much effort was put into making middle easterners not human, but background characters who only exist to get shot at by western militaries. its normal to you that brown people die for literally no reason, and the western military is more of a unquestionable force of nature.

but here online, in left leaning web spheres, people pretend its different. we support poc! we support brown people! we'll show our support through being mad at news and making art! when i see white people make a brown oc, or put another girl in a hidjeb, or any number of poc tokenism, i'd always side eye it. of course there are people i trust. i dont befriend people i dont trust, but the rest? it always felt like it was just another trait to make the character stand out, in the same way you give them magic powers or an animal familiar that isn't a crow or a cat, or make them 6' 7" because your friend's oc is 6' 6". "Heh, this character's not white OR black, but this really cool third thing." (or fourth thing because they have japanese ocs)

So how am I supposed to feel? That things are getting better because I'm in a space that promises me that they think I'm human? I grew up in a Red city, and they still treated me fine to my face. Yeah, the fact of the matter is I wasn't visibly arab enough to be scary to them, but it's the same day-to-day mundanity that comes with tolerance. I'll be treated fine, but what happens when cards are on the table?

well now i know the answer!

white people are uncomfortable because now there is a price on human lives, and they're asking for your help. no more ambiguous handouts, no more "i'll donate to a reputable charity once every few years", you fucking hate that you have to grapple with the fact that there has been things you could've done all along to help the people around you on the verge of death. instead of coming to terms with that you created excuses, like every bigot does when they don't want to accept people of other identities. you're just like them.

i personally won't forget the people that admit to blocking and reporting cries for help from a genocide. i won't forget the people that questioned why someone would go to the people that claim to be anti-fasc for help. i won't forget that islamophobia has always existed in left-leaning circles. nobody should trust you, because you've made it clear you don't trust them.

[morningstar-chronicles]

extra shit i always script but forget to actually write down:

for personal reasons, peanuts and by extension all peanut products do not exist. peanut butter is replaced with soynut or sunflower seed butter.

i am not allergic to pineapples/allergies don't exist.

obesity doesn't happen. like, medically you can't be obese. bodies just don't retain unhealthy amounts of fat for a given body- any excess is just passed through the digestive tract in a harmless manner.

all of my various illnesses are completely manageable, if not completely curable. (why don't i script this out?)

my iq is 199 and i have a photographic memory.

i have indefinite stamina and i can sprint indefinitely without ever getting tired or out of breath.

i can alter the trajectory of time, space, physics, and reality on command without needing to script. everything just automatically bends to my will when i command it to.

vegetables actually taste good. that's CR life's biggest disappointment frfr.

chinese food is integrated into western culture in an appropriate manner GIVE ME MY FUCKING PEA PLANTS YOU STUPID CANADIAN GROCERY STORES-

haha anyway...

i don't!!! have IBS!!! meat!! does not!!! make!! me sick!!!

all deadlines (work-related or school-related) can get pushed back for you if you get sick.

oversharing is normal. fuck you i don't know what you're talking about.

[two-dolla-bills]

Top 10 mechanisms songs that you can get away with playing at a retailers without too many side eyes

I got a job in retail and I felt inspired lol

Disclaimer: this is not a list of the best mechanisms songs/the ones I think deserve to go "mainstream", they're just the ones that would blend in the best

1. Sirens

This song is probably the mechanisms' least "centered" song. It doesn't mention any characters, it has no narration, and out of context it just sounds like A Song that you might hear on the radio. Sirens is to the mechanisms as you're the one that I want is to grease, you know?

2. Trial by song

THIS one. It's in the same category to me as Sirens; you can listen to it by itself and not suspect much. Unlike Sirens which can be completely separated and still make sense, this one is more like a whole new world from Aladdin. There are parts that make it obvious that it's from a larger whole, but if you just so happen to catch the "safe" parts you won't suspect much.

Points were deducted due to Mr. Soldier's unique vocals. (Unique as in not very common in mainstream music)

3. Empty trail

This is no offense to Dr. La Cognizzi, but sometimes when she sings it's hard to make out what she's saying, which works in her favor in these circumstances. It sounds country/rock, which help it blend in with some dad rock songs. If I remember correctly, the melody was actually taken from a Led Zeppelin song, so if you aren't paying attention to what's ACTUALLY being said you can get away with claiming it's a cover.

4. Ties that bind

Although this one does mention many plot points, many fans have stated that they had no idea what the fuck was being said until the have looked for the lyrics (myself included) this, combined with it's jazzy rythm, make it able to blend in with other songs, similarly to empty trail

5. Odin

The most "normal" song out of the entirety of The Bifrost Incident. This song made it to the top five because it has similarities with Roam by the B-52's, but had points deducted due to it clearly being about an awesome space train

6. Lost in the cosmos

This might just be personal opinion, but it sounds like a church song. You can pull off the effect of it being about earth Jesus and not space robot Jesus if you have particularly bad quality speakers and a busy store w/lots of noise. Again, the lyrics kinda give it away as to not being entirely main stream

7. Stranger

Look it's a banger, ok? Many of the lyrics could be taken as just being metaphors, but I feel like you have to squint to "see" it. Pay too much attention and shit gets a little weird. Also, points deducted because it's two men singing together and not a man and a woman, which throws a wrench into the works. At kohl's it might raise some eyebrows but in like hot topic it'll blend in a little better

8. Redeath

You would think a song about a sphoenix (space phoenix) would be lower on the list but you'd be wrong. It's a really pretty song with a good original melody, and it's something that can be drowned out by a particularly rowdy crowd. Like Stranger, it would blend in better at a hot topic than at kohl's, but only slightly.

9. Elysian Fields

The melody in Elysian Fields is taken directly from the song wayfaring stranger, which has been coverd by Jonny Cash, Ed Sheeran, Poor Man's Poison, and The Longest Johns, AS WELL HAS having been featured in the movie 1917 and in the video game The Last of Us II, which make it very recognizable. Because of this recognizability, people who know the original song may be caught off guard by hearing it in a Walmart with completely different lyrics. It was originally in 7th place, but the popularity of the original takes off many points

10. Once and future king

It's a banger, don't get me wrong, but it also very heavily and clearly mentions plot points from the album, which itself is heavily base on Aurtharian mythology; something very well known in the western world (also the names are not common at all and most haven't been in fashion in centuries). In a crowded, busy space with not very good quality speakers it could potentially blend in, but one or two names might sneak out. The only reason it's on the list is because of the instrumental outro, which sounds normal enough

[toskarin]

one thing that gets lost extremely often when talking about stg (which is to say japanese shmups specifically) in western fandom is that there are several distinct lineages of them that are entirely distinct

below the break, an off-the-cuff (in other words I may be misremembering finer details so don't quote me as an educational source) ramble on STG/shmup design

or, more vaguely, a ramble on taking things for granted

I've gone ahead and included section headers because this is such a long rant, but this isn't an essay or anything. this is me transcribing a stream of consciousness. it's like I'm rambling at you in a pub

you've been warned

-

[1] The Easy Stuff or: quickly defining some things so that I don't go insane trying to describe the Y2K stg revival

the two that immediately come to mind are the "mechanics-side complexity" and the "stage-side complexity" schools of thought. these aren't official terms, but every time I read interviews from stg developers, they gesture towards these competing concepts in their own words. so I'll use be going off of that.

also it's going to get REALLY clunky if I keep using those terms, so I'll use mech+ and stage+ to refer to mechanics-side and stage-side complexity going forward

the mech+ way of going about things is arguably the original school of thought. this is extremely arguable because it was an innovation that started happening in the late 90s and early 2000s (most seem to point to Treasure games as the inciting force here, especially the leap from Radiant Silvergun to Ikaruga) and was, itself, a reaction to a perceived stalling in the development of stg as a genre

(as an aside, this isn't the only time that stg was seen as stalling out and experienced a very notable revival, but we'll circle back to that in a bit)

the argument I've seen come up in response to this is that stage+ design was, itself, a reaction to this and can't really be considered the same as developers making games like that as the norm, because it's not necessarily an attempt to make "traditional" stg.

I'm of two minds on this, but I do think it's at least useful to look at it in terms of...

[difficulty from stage design with a simple craft is the assumed default] -> [mechanical difficulty is consciously leaned into, creating the mech+ school of thought] -> [in reaction to the increasing mechanical complexity of post-Radiant Silvergun games, the stage+ school of thought emerges in earnest]

either way, the fact of the matter is, somewhere around Y2K, developers started making games where the challenge was consciously moved into the space of mechanical demands. people had opinions on this

some developers say that this was in response to older games feeling more like dodging games than shooting games, but that's ALSO a highly contested point (saying this will start fights) and gives away that someone is firmly in the mech+ camp

the experiences of playing a mech+ game and playing a stage+ game are so wildly different that you can usually tell which you're playing just by looking at the controls of the game

when making a stg (and by proxy, when making a shmup) it's actually pretty important to figure out where you stand on this, just so that you don't waste your time reinventing the wheel

not to say that it's bad to make a simple game, but there's definitely a difference between making a deliberate retro homage and unknowingly making a game that feels extremely dated by the standards of its own genre

before we go any further, here's a warning: my information (and memory) of what's coming up is very spotty, so if you already know about what led to DoDonPachi releasing, you won't get much out of this bit

this is mostly aimed at people whose knowledge of the 80s-90s video games begins and ends with assuming the USA video game crash was universal, so feel free to skip to like... the last three sentences if the name "Toaplan" rings any bells

[2] Circling Back or: the messiest part of the ramble where I quickly try to give some context on the early-mid-90s stg revival

speaking of retro homage, let's circle back for a second to that other stalling I mentioned a bit earlier

in the early 90s, there was a bit of a collapse in stg. not quite a full stop, but as a genre that had been around basically as long as video games had, it was quickly turning into something companies saw as a dated format, so they started getting a bit antsy about dedicating their A-teams to making new ones

the problem with doing this is that a lot of these A-teams got their starts pioneering this genre and still felt passionate about it, in spite of how the state of stg had started to (by some accounts) become a game-mill for filling out arcade cabinets

intensifying things a bit further, this period coincides almost exactly with Toaplan (one of the biggest players in the development of the stg genre) dropping stg development, exploding, and scattering its employees all over the place

so, as one might imagine, those A-teams started making highly reinventive pitches for stg, which they still wanted to make, to convince their management to let them do it. alongside this, the employees of Toaplan who still believed in the genre founded their own companies (Cave being a VERY notable mention) to continue their work

(Takumi Corporation also gets a mention here so that people don't kill me with hammers for forgetting it)

I'm a bit spottier on what exactly happened in this window, but the important takeaway is that this was something a lot of developers saw happening, and it effectively rewound the genre's development, nudging it away from the (at the time) popular idea that sidescrollers were going to be the future of Everything, and that top down perspective looked extremely dated

a lot of very innovative games released here, a lot of genre shifts happened here.

if you're going to draw a line anywhere and mark it as the beginning of the modern genre, I think this is realistically where you should do it

this is the point where people really chose to die on the hill that stg wasn't a genre that emerged solely from technological limitations or a need for cheap fodder, but a distinctive tradition of games that should be continued in meaningful ways

[3] Okay Here's Touhou or: I almost get to the point

in the midst of the latter revival, fomented by the former revival, programmers at larger companies were also working on smaller hobby projects that they would release in a doujin capacity, independent of their employers

ZUN is the name I've been dancing around here, because he was very much doing this will working at Taito (and also shortly before it)

I'm not going to get into his full backstory, because now we're in the fast part of this ramble

the most important thing to mention about ZUN's work is that the PC-98 Touhou games aren't representative of the design behind the Windows ones. he was never coming at it from a position of insincerity, but he was much less serious about Touhou early on

I'm not just saying this in a "ZUN developed his vision over the years" sense. Highly Responsive to Prayers was literally a programming experiment he made two years prior to Story of Eastern Wonderland, and likely because of this, he only released the former when the latter was also ready to be released

one thing that gets lost in retelling with the PC-98 games is that they aren't actually all that unique in the genre. even to the extent that they're music-forward games that serve as vessels for their soundtracks, that still wasn't especially unique at the time

so, if Touhou hadn't undergone design philosophy changes between its eras, it likely wouldn't have its current presence. the PC-98 era is absolutely more fondly remembered because it exists in the context of being followed by a series so influential that it's the de facto face of the genre in several countries

in 1998 came the last game in the PC-98 series, Mystic Square. during the four years between this and 2002, the latter revival of the modern stg was in full swing, and this really shows in the direction that the series (which would be easy to classify as stage+ in the PC-98 era) would go on to take

[4] Okay Here's Windows Touhou or: I actually get to the point

Windows Touhou is enormously influential. it is INESCAPABLE.

it's also incredibly good! I'm notably a fan. I dedicated a pretty reasonable amount of flesh real estate to a respectably sized Touhou tattoo

that being said, this does mean that, on average, someone outside of japan with a passing (but active) interest in the stg genre is very likely going to land on Touhou as their series of choice and stick with it. it's one of those cases where a very popular entry into a genre ends up being popular for a reason

but (importantly for someone trying to figure out genre norms by reverse-engineeering them) Touhou isn't a generic stg

Touhou is actually such a specific offshoot that it warrants a separate mention in conversations about how these games are made

Touhou games are so distinctive within the genre that they arguably dip into both schools of design and come out as a weird third one that subdivides off of stage+ -- although, to be fair, it's been increasingly leaning into the mech+ corner of things as the series goes on, which makes sense because Embodiment of Scarlet Devil released after the initial split and the reaction to it

the entire reason Touhou goes so far to contrive a reason behind everyone using spellcards is because they're actually an abnormal mechanic. spellcards are one of Touhou's hooks!

most stg do have similar stuff in terms of attack patterns (especially post-DoDonPachi games, with how those codified the concept of danmaku) but Touhou's big innovation was placing so much emphasis on their presentation, giving the individual patterns names, and establishing them as setting flavour

so this often cuts in the obvious way, with people who have only played Touhou including the spell card system wholesale without realising they're doing a direct homage to just one game series but it also cuts in the opposite direction, with people getting confused about the absence of Touhou-standard features in stg that aren't being designed as Touhou homage

everything I'm about to say is about non-beginner projects. we're talking about things that see release here. there isn't really a clean way for me to draw a conclusion, but it's something that rattles around my brain a lot

on one side of the modern western shmup scene, you have games that are based primarily on ancient stg that have long since been lapped several times over in mechanical innovation. on the other side of the western shmup scene, you have lovingly made games that are almost all entirely based on what can be gleaned from Touhou

in the former case, you get very stiff gameplay that tends to feel satisfied with very slight gestures at innovation, but only ends up retreading a very thoroughly tread path

in the latter case, you either get very loose gameplay that lacks in one of the elements that makes Touhou work or you get a very competent game that nevertheless still does just kind of feel like a Touhou fangame

there's a good bit of middle ground where people are actually working in the genre as it exists, but it reminds me a lot of the state of western-made jrpgs, where Final Fantasy was so popular that a solid chunk of the better modern releases are still basing their genre twists on things that have already been twisted into gordian knots

do I have a solution? is there a problem? who even knows. it'd be nice if people were more willing to look at stuff in the process of making stuff, at least

also if you've read this far, I can at least make a safe bet that you won't get mad when I say the ghost of Morrowind, by way of Oblivion comparably poisoned the western sandbox rpg genre in its own right

[kiefbowl]

so I just made a couple posts about this post, and rereading it I am going to try to be charitable as possible to everyone involved, but the vibe of this post really bothers me. but op deleted the post so I'm blocking out all the names out of respect for that, but I want to talk about this post

I think this is a very normal ask. It's literally just "hey, what are your opinions" and I don't see why that shouldn't be welcomed in a supposed feminist space. questions drive conversation, and not everyone is of the same opinion, life experiences, or knowledge, you know?

To be charitable to the green poster, they're just answering. I do think the "is literally the most anti-punk and anti-feminist thing you can do without genuinely hurting other people" is a bit much, and I also think she's misreading the op. I read Op as asking "if you're a feminist, what are some of your general opinions on subversive make up, and here's a list of examples: goth punk emo" and green is saying "conforming to patriarchy is never punk, and make up is patriarchal."

So I think the next response from Op shows that she took it a little personal as if being called out for doing the most "anti-feminist thing you can do without genuinely hurting people," which to be fair I'd probably be a little miffed too on a first read. And I think she's trying to pull out her question a little bit more, trying to re-contextualize it so that green gets what she actually meant. But this is a casual social media site so she's being casual and social. She's saying "okay, sure, but I'm asking about make up trends that are outside of what's commercialized" but I guess the big no-no is that she said "not male fantasy." Because yes, I ultimately agree, just because it's a more subversive culture, doesn't mean it's specifically feminist, or that the trends with-in aren't dictated to some degree by male fantasy. And then of course she asks: "If a woman wants to, isn't it regressive to say she can't?" So, to be fair to Op, she never specifically asked if make-up was specifically feminist or punk. But to be fair to green, green never specifically said a woman can't wear make-up.

But this is when it goes a little sideways, because frankly neither of them were being rude-rude. But green's next response is pretty rude imo. I think the subtext is "you're a big dummy." Op is not, and Op's first ask is what actually could be a very interesting jumping off point to discuss a variety of intersecting interests for feminists. Because I'm going to be real with you, there is no "The Answer" to make-up. Just because make-up and consumerism is never specifically feminist, doesn't mean it's always specifically anti-feminist. Sub cultures like Goth can be multiple things at once - subversive, and conforming. They also don't exist solely in one way. Copse make-up isn't feminist not because it's make-up, but because it's just make-up. But, like, yeah there's an element of subversiveness within western culture. There's also an element of acceptance, as long as it stays in the agreed on designated zones. A tee-shirt can't be feminist, either. Even if the tee-shirt says something feminist-y and subversive, like idk "I hate men and I love to abort their children" or w/e. Like okay, it's just a tee-shirt. And if you didn't make it yourself, it was probably made with slave labor, anyway. So you can wear it to the feminist poetry open mic at the local coffee shop, and you can wear it to a conservative's house, and the reactions in either place don't prove much about it's effectiveness. But it is a form of self expression, it's a form of participating in our culture(s) one way or another, and women are people they do participate. They can't not. So participating with some level of intention is better than her letting life passively happen around her. It's just not one thing, which makes it interesting.

So with all that being said, I think op's response is a sassy response to feeling like they're being spoken to rudely, which I think is fair enough.

This is not fair enough, and I find it bizarre. Maybe I missed something in another comment or post, but Op didn't 1. talk down to anyone and 2. didn't insult anyone who disagreed with them. But, to be charitable to pink - I understand why some women are on edge with the proliferation of troll accounts. But my ultimate advice to any women, young or old, trying to participate in a feminist space is to know that feminism is not a "solved" thing. Women have a variety of ways to think and approach a problem, and just because two ideas are conflicting doesn't mean they can't both have some merit. And since I think Op is a genuine person, this comes across as ostracizing a woman for asking a good natured, good willed question towards feminists to incite some discussion. A thing that should be welcomed if anything.

And then this response tries to be fair to Op, but also seems completely tone deaf to what she ever said. When in any of this exchange did Op ask for validation on anything? She admitted she is in a sub culture that both men and women use make up in, didn't specify what the subculture was, and then asked "hey, what are your opinions on this situation a little outside the norm of how we normally criticism make up." Then reacted to what one person's responses were, which the first response was simply direct but the second one was dismissive and rude.

So my point is, in order to be a successful feminist, I think you need to be able to navigate conversations with women that involve thinking outside the bun without devolving into sassiness when they aren't in complete lock step with you and have a predictable amount of curiosity. Feminism is a living discipline, and this could have been a moment of a meeting of the minds and a moment of cooperation to consider multiple sides of a question. That should be the ultimate goal.

And, to circle back to complete fairness of green's first response: when women are being direct with you, and maybe even misreading you a bit, it's worth taking a beat and thinking "can I read this in a kind tone at all? and if yes I'm going to assume that was the intention" because it can help get these conversations moving in the direction of cooperation rather than fighting.

And ultimately, have fun out there :)

[sluttysissyslave]

For Sissies and Alike!

This is a very long post so bear with me, do with it what you wish, forget it if you want to, but maybe, just maybe consider it. So, let me tell you why and how you all became what you are today, and how to go forward. If you feel you relate to it then let it sit, if it doesn't, forget about it.

Most of you developed these feelings when you were alone and sad, your standards dropped lower and lower without you even realizing it, and next thing you know you're fantasizing about being a slut for women, or maybe even men. But what you forgot about, was that originally, you were just searching for female affection, the touch of that girl you really liked but were too afraid to go up to. You became so desperate for love, for some sort of connection that you started modifying things... "Maybe if I submit myself to a woman she will finally love me" you degraded yourself for love you didn't try hard enough to get. And now, behind a digital screen you've found what you call your little safe space, you don't feel like you're alone in this anymore, it's your coping mechanism. You seek validation in a place designed for men to be degraded, not validated. If you started cross-dressing when you were young. Ask yourself: did you get a lot of human connection? Did your parents pay attention to you? You realised that girls receive all the attention, the love you so desperately wanted that no-one gave you when you were young. So you subconsciously realised the being a girl could get you that. When you wore the girly clothes and finally felt warm, and embraced, you just manifested that for yourself over time and when it happened you actually believed it, which is only natural, that's what manifestation does. Your mind tricked you into believing that you found what you were looking for. 

So, we've established that doing sexually feminine things is because submissive thoughts in a gay way is because you crave the love and affection you've been missing in your life. 

Some people call this mental illness, I think that's disrespectful and inaccurate, I say these traits are mental coping mechanisms, and you know what? They feel good, they feel great in fact, but they aren't what you were meant to be, you find solace and comfort in those rushes of endorphins and other feel-good chemicals. But let me remind you, this isn't a long-term solution, you will realize this as time goes on, so you'll go even more extreme to cope, to get an even bigger rush. You need to reconsider, the withdrawal will feel terrible, but the way you are currently going won't get you to the desires you were always meant to have, not the ones you might think you're currently suppressing.

Brainwashing:

Arguably you are truly the victims, but no-one is coming to save you but yourself. You will always be tested, from all sides, it's up to you whether you give in or not. Be strong, don't give in, stand your ground. Trust that there's always a better way, a better option, one that's more rewarding than the path you're on now.

So why are you the victims? Well in modern western society it is being slowly programmed into people from a very young age, as soon as they can absorb information. Ideologies that men are worthless, good for nothing, and that women are superior. I don't want to go into the details of why this is the case because then you'll be reading this until tomorrow, but trust me that it's the case, and let me prove it with an adequate example. Most submissive men (and all woke and other LGBT people are all located in the "rich" west), almost none in eastern and conservative countries. Why is that? They don't have exposure to these things from a young age, it's not that sissies and alike don't exist there, they aren't created. Also they are often poorer than you are, with lots of social security, peace and plentiful resources, people get lazy and weak, those people living in let's say, Moldova, have other things to worry about than putting on makeup and sticking a butt plug up their bum. They aren't suppressing any femininity (sexually), they never had any to begin with.

Let's talk about how you and your thoughts are being manipulated.

Origins in modern pop culture:

Tv shows - the man is always the idiot and the woman is always the smart, reasonable one. That wasn't always the case in civilized history, both men and women were smart and reasonable, their combined traits completed each other's and they could be a strong couple. Let's look at some examples… It starts with Friends - Joey, Chandler, are portrayed as a bit dumb, and the girls generally smarter. The Simpsons - Homer is an idiot, his wife is the real boss. Family Guy - Peter is an absolute idiot and Louis is the brains of the family, a voice of reason. And it's even in shows for little children, in Peppa pig The father is hardly a figure to look up to. The disrespect towards men has been going on for decades, and it really started, rather perhaps interestingly, after the fall of the Soviet Union, but I once again don't want to get into politics or else this post will never end. We are at a stage now where especially if you're white you are almost persecuted for it. You can't disagree when I say all people should be treated equally right? So why doesn't that apply to race. A fitting quote to go by for this would be: "Don't humiliate yourself before anyone, and don't haughty yourself over anyone"

I actually feel terrible for the genuine, kind, trans women who have done so much for themselves and still don't maybe feel good and satisfied. You've had to overcome a lot in pursuit of happiness, and whether you made you right or wrong choice is now irrelevant. Try to live your best life with what you have, and don't look back, it's too late for that anyway, it would only make things worse now. Look towards the future and never look back, do things which make YOU happy, and not someone else.

For dominant women: Don't see this as a threat, there will always be guys who are more submissive, everyone is definitely and spread out all across the scale, you'll find who you're looking for, only men with with low self-esteem want a weak-minded woman who they can control in all aspects of life. Most men like a strong-minded woman, I also want a strong woman. But don't confuse this for sexual submissiveness/dominance, those aren't the same thing. Feminine doesn't mean weak! 

General statement: The world is all butterflies and fairy tales now, enjoy it while you can, it will get worse, wars are coming, political and ideological changes are going to happen and if you are unprepared then, I have news, it won't end well. You are living in a digital jail right now, you are getting affected/manipulated, but at the end of the day you are the one who holds your own phone or opens your computer. Give yourself the power to control yourself, and free yourself of this jail.

IDEAS AND SOLUTIONS

Become the type man you'd want to serve: Often I see people with slight or fully gay fantasies about men, or being outperformed by certain men (women want them and not you. Become that man. It's going to be hard, in fact it's going to be the hardest thing you will ever do in your life, and it won't even come close. Try it, a person should be adventurous in life so why wouldn't you like to feel what it's like being that person? And the best part is, if you don't like it, you can go back to what you were before and say that you've tried it all and found what you really are, but you can't say that without actually experiencing it, not even a discussion. It'll be a process for a minimum of 1-2 years, and will require discipline and self-control, hey that's similar to serving and/or being locked in chastity, both of those require discipline and self-control too. You can do it.

Find yourself: People love talking about finding themselves, I read it here every now and again, "I found my true self here". You cannot find yourself behind a digital screen, you will find yourself by putting yourself in difficult situations, the easiest way to do that is by going into nature. Take a large backpack with only your essentials and survive in the forest for a week. If that's too much, then just go out in the morning, spend the night and come back, walking through terrain and getting to some destination. Maybe you live in a cold climate, in winter go out into the snow and walk around the forests all day. Remember to bring an emergency phone if going to places you don't know too well. 

Estrogen vs Testosterone: Estrogen makes you girly, and Testosterone manly, we know that right? To increase your estrogen naturally you can drink soy product, live an unhealthy lifestyle, and mentally stimulate yourself. You cannot produce as much estrogen naturally as a woman does, you'd have to take supplements. A healthy lifestyle in women increases their estrogen, and a healthy lifestyle in men increases their testosterone. You can increase your testosterone by exercising, eating meat (protein), onion, dark chocolate, a Mediterranean diet is pretty good, and of course getting high quality sleep, (here I am at 3am writing this post - hypocrite, I'm ashamed and I'll work on it).

Reward yourself. When you achieved a goal to becoming your new masculine life, treat yourself to something fulfilling. Whether it's some sort of food or an experience. We all need positive affirmations. You can reflect on what you've done well and what you've done poorly. Like me who wanted to s few important things and instead procrastinated for 3 days, hence, no reward, but as double self motivation I'll do a super big reward after putting myself together and getting all I wanted done (this post was no. 5 priority).

Belief. Believe in yourself that you can do it, your mind is extremely powerful, you give it less credit than it deserves, if you channel it the right way then it was serve you as a great tool.

Energy. Energy is another real, powerful, but invisible thing. Have you ever entered a historical religious place of worship? Like an ancient church in Europe or a mosque in the old Ottoman Empire like Turkey or even spain, a Buddhist or Hindu temple in Asia… they all have energy which you can feel, you absorb things differently with various energies. Or maybe more relatable, you're having fun at an outgoing fun party, you feel good right, smiling and enjoying life. That's positive energy. If you put yourself in environments with the type of energy you are currently looking for, it will help, a lot. I don't mean to say you should be religious or anything, but there's nothing wrong if you are or want to, it gives you hope and a sense of safety and security in its own ways.

Stand up for yourself. Have some morals and beliefs which you like and stand by. Don't be afraid to defend them in an argument.

This is my first authentic post on this website and I was very hesitant to make it, after all no-one might even read what I spent so much time on, but if at least one person is somehow positively influenced then it was worth it. I know that I will probably be reported by someone simply because they didn't agree with what I wrote, and my account will be taken down. If you don't agree with the things I said then ignore them, I made this for people who can resonate with something I wrote (not at all necessarily all of it), people who don't even know why they like the things they like, know it's not what they always wanted but find pleasure in it now. Hence please reblog if you like what you read, it won't be here forever.

If you are unsure or want to discuss anything feel free to DM.

If you want to do some research yourself, start with researching "Subliminal perception". It's absolutely everywhere and affects everyone, like it or not.

I might start positive things with a little political subcontext explaining my points further.