#it is artificial it is something created and that can be beautiful as much as it can be ugly and contrived but ONLY when it is combined

[dollfacefantasy]

kinktober day 21 - sex toys billy butcher x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, sex toys, daddy kink, brat taming

Schlick. Schlick. Schlick.

The sounds of pure torture echo between the four walls of your bedroom. Each wet squelch taunts you. You hate them. Loathe them. Despise them. All because they're not coming from you. No, instead they're coming from the piece-of-shit, fake, plastic pocket pussy your boyfriend was thrusting into above you.

"You're so mean," you whimper, tears threatening to spill over your lash line as you watch the flesh-colored sleeve hide his shaft.

Your sad expression garners no sympathy from Billy. He continues pumping himself into the fleshlight while straddling you. His pupils are dilated as he stares down at your form, limp on the mattress between his legs. His lips curl into that smug signature grin of his.

"Maybe just a bit. But you like that, don't ya?" he taunts, "That's why you were throwin' a tantrum in the first place. Cause you wanted daddy to get you back in line."

"But you're not, you're just like bullying me!" you cry. The tears are no longer potential as they roll down your heated skin, creating wet trails down your face. Your lip wobbles, on the verge of another fit.

"Oh, it's not bullying, love. Just a little discipline," he says, free hand reaching out to stroke down your jaw and lift your chin.

He keeps fucking that stupid little toy. Pumping into it like he should be pumping into you. It's fucked up. Evil, dare you say it. Just plain cruel. It's almost as if you can feel the phantom sensation in your cunt that rests a foot below where he's thrusting. The imaginary feeling of what should be happening makes reality so much more excruciating.

His head falls back and he lets out a moan. He barely ever moans for you. All you get are grunts and low groans, but he lets out that beautiful sound for something that isn't even real? You can't take it. A sob pours from your lips.

"Stop!" you wail.

"Oh, what's wrong, sweetheart?" he coos at you. You love that tone when it's sincere, but right now, it's mocking.

You don't even bother with an answer. You just keep watching him with your glossy eyes and constant sniffles.

He looks so good too which makes it hurt even worse. His face presents an image of peace, his chest shines with a light sheen of sweat. His abdomen twitches as his hips piston into the artificial orifice. You reach out to grab him and try to get the despicable item away from him, but he simply leans back and tuts at you.

"Ah ah. Move again, and I'll make this punishment a whole lot worse."

So you settle back into your collection of plush pillows and watch. In your mind, you did not deserve this. All you'd done was backtalk and tease him in front of the others a little. You'd just wanted a spanking or even a slap to the face or two. You didn't think he'd do something like this.

However, in his mind, this was the most effective form of correction he'd found for you yet. He knew you, and he knew you loved spankings. You loved when he tagged you across the cheek when he was balls deep inside you. Those weren't true punishments, and after the constant old man jokes and ever-present bratty attitude, in front of your friends no less, he was in the mood to properly put you in your place.

He groans as he continues working the fleshlight over his dick, the sticky noises persisting over the sound of your weeping.

"Feels so fuckin' good," he murmurs. A sigh leaves him, and his smirk deepens as he hears the whimper you let out in response. "So tight and soft."

Your crying picks up again. "It's not better than mine."

He huffs out a laugh while his fist keeps moving the toy. "I didn't say it was, did I?"

"You're acting like it," you accuse through tears.

"'m not. Just telling the truth," he breathes, "This thing feels fucking great. Think I should use it more often."

Anguish courses through you and you throw your head back against the satiny pillow case. "Then why don't you just fuck it all the time instead of me?"

His free hand grabs your chin and makes you meet his eyes.

"Watch the attitude. You're not bein' replaced. You were a bad girl, and now you have to deal with the consequences," he reminds you. He feels himself getting close and bites his lip.

You know that face. Normally, it'd bring you joy, but now it just intensifies your agony. "I'm sorry," you sob and cover your face.

"I know you are," he says, softening the tiniest amount. It wouldn't be noticeable to the untrained ear, but you catch it. The slight difference keeps you from toppling over the edge or blubbering out the safeword.

His hand knocks yours away from your face with a tender touch. "Eyes on me. A few more minutes and you're all done."

"Fine..." you pout.

You do watch, but you continue to cry. That wasn't against the rules. You watch as your boyfriend fucks that dumb waste of space and mentally wish death upon whoever it was that invented these things.

He growls. The sound he always makes when he's about to unload, and then his hips sputter and hot ropes of his precious cum shoot into the toy. You bite your lip and try not to glare too hard.

When he's done, he tosses the toy aside. He leans down over you, lowering himself so he hovers near your face.

"Think you've learned your lesson?"

You nod, pouty expression still plastered over your features.

"Good girl," he coos. The words feel like a victory after the series of losses you just suffered.

He kisses your lips, pushing his against you gently. "Daddy loves you. You're still his favorite," he whispers, voice slightly teasing.

[arjudy224]

Teachers Pet

Intern x Batfamily

Part 2 of Outreach Gala

The bartender flashes me an incredulous glance.

"Is that a no then?" I inquire with a half smile.

Before he can respond, a vine slithers up his leg, immobilizing him. I roll my eyes. Typical. Eyeing Dick's drink, I ask

"You gonna drink that?"

He shakes his head before sliding the drink down the bar.

Preparing to down the glass, I wince a little in preparation. A wave of artificial sweeteners flood my senses, but no alcohol. That bastard... It's Diet Coke.

"You should really get out of here." I whisper in his direction, "Get some help.

When no one responds, I stifle my laughter. I should have known better. From the corner of my eye, I spot Dr. Harris sneaking out the back door to grab reinforcements. His dark brown eyes meet mine. An understanding passes between us. He needs time. I nod in agreement. Marching through the party, I carefully avoid the eager vines trying to wrap around my legs.

The room falls into silence as I stumble past the poor partygoers. Comissioner Gordan's eyes grow wide in warning. I flash him my most reassuring smile.

"Dr. Isley," I call out weaving through the dozens of guests, "It's not very polite to show up two hours into the gala. We've been waiting for you."

Poison Ivy's glowing green eyes regard me curiously.

Before I can react, 4 stray vines wrap around my limbs rendering me motionless. Her eyes narrow in recognition.

"Ms. L/N, you've grown into yourself quite nicely."

I consider our history. 4 years is a considerably long time in adolescence.

"Well, that's a relief. I was afraid that I peaked with braces."

A small forms in response.

"Are you still picking fights with those boneheads in your class?"

I laugh. Some things never change.

"In some ways, "I respond with a grin, "Now, I mostly try to convince them of their errors through diplomacy."

One of the loose hanging vines carefully caresses my cheek. Peeling through my memories, I struggle to remember Dr. Isley as a Professor. Most mornings, I rolled into class like a zombie. Her labs were interesting though. Halfway through the semester, a group of police officers raided the lecture during an exam. I woke up quickly once her vines began strangling the police force.

"The plants speak of your kindness."

A string of followers blossom at my feet. My face gets hot.

"That's nice to hear. I haven't been able to grow anything since moving back to Gotham.” I joke awkwardly, “I was about to sample the water treatment plant again.”

More vines reach my waist. I shift uncomfortably,

"Don’t you see? Kindness isn't enough."

A few manage to wrap around my neck. The slow restriction around my airway causes me to start panicking.

"Dr. Isley...." I choke out, "You are hurting me."

The room starts to spin. Gasping, I struggle pathetically against the brick wall of vegetation.

"You have so much potential,” She mutters in my ear, “I could use someone with your talents.”

Red spots my vision. No. No. No. A pink flower grows out of a vine. A cascade of glittering aerosol sprinkles down from it. For a moment, my body goes limp. A wave of serotonin replaces my panic. She chose me. Imagine the change we could create. I smile- a real genuine smile.

Her hair.... Has it always been this silky? And her eyes... I've never seen that shade of green before. Everything about this woman feels wonderfully comforting and exciting all at once. In the natural world, when things are this potent they usually warn of poison.... but how could something so beautiful be bad?

When she kisses me, I don't protest. My knees go weak. A yearning, unlike anything I've ever felt, courses through my veins. A loud crash echoes across the gala. Dr. Isley pulls away too soon. I collapse in a wave of sorrow. Why would she leave me so soon? The rejection floods back painful memories of past lovers. Several vines hug me in support. Crouching, Pamela brushes my hair back before facing her foe.

"We'll finish this later. The adults are talking."

Tag list- @nosyrobin, @jjsmeowthie, @epicyOn, @gaychaosgremlin, @rory-cakes, @luna-zendra-star, @b4tm4nn, @anuttellaa

[novlr]

Anyone have any advice on how to build and maintain tension? I just read through an old story, and my tension is… nonexistent at best

We’ve all experienced that all-encompassing focus that comes from being sucked into a really great book. One that keeps you at the edge of your seat, turning the pages, desperate to know what comes next. That’s the power of tension.

Tension keeps your story tightly paced and plotted. It keeps your readers engaged and makes them desperate to read just one more chapter.

Think of tension as your story’s pulse. Sometimes it races, sometimes it stays steady, but it’s always there in the background, keeping the story alive. Without tension, even the most beautiful writing falls flat. It’s the difference between a story that people admire on its technical merits and one they can’t put down.

Essential elements to build tension

Have stakes that matter

The foundation of tension is having something meaningful at risk. Your characters must face consequences that deeply affect them or others they care about. These stakes can be physical (life or death), emotional (love or heartbreak), or psychological (sanity or madness). The key is making readers understand and feel why these consequences matter to your characters.

Without meaningful stakes, any conflict feels hollow and artificial. Even small stakes can create powerful tension if they’re personally significant to the character.

Have time pressure

Nothing builds tension like a ticking clock. Deadlines, whether literal or metaphorical, force characters to act and make decisions under pressure.

A time limit transforms every choice into a crucial moment, every delay into a potential disaster. Whether it’s defusing a bomb, reaching a loved one before they leave forever, or meeting a critical deadline, time constraints amplify existing stakes and create a sense of urgency that pulls readers through the story.

Escalating conflict

Tension grows when problems compound. Start with a manageable challenge, then gradually increase the difficulty and consequences.

Each new obstacle should build upon previous ones, creating a snowball effect that makes the situation increasingly complex. When characters solve one problem, introduce a bigger one. This layering of complications prevents the tension from plateauing and keeps readers invested in how your characters will overcome mounting adversity.

Practical techniques for building tension

In prose

Use shorter sentences and paragraphs during tense moments. Snappier sentences make for snappier reads.

Create white space on the page. You can achieve this with more dialogue, shorter paragraphs, and less expository description. White space means faster reading, giving the experience of reading certain sections more weight.

Immerse readers with sensory detail, but don’t go overboard. Be intentional and precise.

Balance action with reaction. Too much action is fatiguing, so you need to balance pacing with tension.

Use dialogue to reveal mounting pressure from the character’s own points of view.

In character development

Give characters conflicting goals. Conflict is the backbone of all good fiction, so you can’t build tension without it.

Create internal conflicts that war with external needs. What a character wants and what they need are not always aligned, which can be a great source of tension.

Develop relationships with built-in tension. These don’t have to be romantic. They could be professional disagreements, families that don’t get along, or friends who don’t always see eye to eye.

Write flawed characters that can complicate potential resolutions. Characters create their own tension, because like people, they’re not perfect.

In plot

Foreshadow and cast seeds of conflict early in the narrative.

Create multiple plot threads that intersect. A great source of tension for a reader can be waiting to see how multiple subplots will come together with the main plotline.

Build anticipation with subtext that works toward your story’s themes in subtle ways.

Drip feed information or build it into your story world seamlessly, rather than relying overly on exposition or info-dumping.

Common Pitfalls to Avoid

Don’t resolve conflict too quickly or easily.

Don’t provide too much exposition at once.

Don’t let characters get too comfortable. Be sure to throw some trials their way.

Don’t make the stakes too low or unclear.

Don’t be too obvious in signposting potential story outcomes. Let readers come there naturally.

Don’t rely on artificial tension by withholding important information.

Don’t resolve major tensions with deus ex machina solutions (unless plot relevant, of course).

Practical exercises for writing tension

Rewrite a scene three times, each with increasing stakes. See which version you think is the most engaging to find the perfect bland of tension and pacing that works for your style.

Practice writing dialogue where characters want opposing things. Write two versions. One, in which they come to an agreement, and another in which they remain in opposition.

Map your story’s tension on a graph to identify flat spots. Is there too much tension leading to flat pacing? Or do you need more? Where do you think you can cut down or build up the tension?

Building and maintaining tension, like any writing skill, is one that improves with practice. Remember that tension doesn’t mean constant high drama. It’s about creating and sustaining reader investment in your story and its outcome.

The key is to make tension serve your story rather than overshadow it. When done well, tension becomes the invisible force that pulls readers through your narrative, making them care deeply about your characters and their journey.

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg divider by @fictive-sl0th

Biker!Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader | No Outbreak AU

Warnings for this Chapter: fluff? 'idiots in love', Daryl being a cutie patootie, swear words, mentions of a car accident and death

Word Count: 2,4K

a/n: We're slowly entering fluff territory - or are we? 👀

《 M a s t e r l i s t 》

《 Chapter Twelve 》 《 Chapter Fourteen 》

Chapter Thirteen...

...in which you and Daryl go on a lot of nice dates and share cute, little moments.

It's got what it takes So, tell me why can't this be love? Straight from my heart Oh, tell me why can't this be love?

'Why Can't This Be Love' by Van Halen

You and Daryl spent the first week of your stay in Georgia with a lot of small dates; mostly after he was done with work. Of course, he couldn't just stay away, even though it was his brother's workshop - something you could absolutely understand. After all, you had invited yourself and didn't forewarn him. Nevertheless, you found yourself enjoying the moments the both of shared together every day, and you had the feeling that Daryl enjoyed it as well. He showed you around Gainesville, which included a lot of beautiful places like the 'Atlanta Botanical Garden' and the 'Chicopee Woods Nature Preserve' - even in winter. Besides having dinner together, visiting the cinema, taking walks and even going bowling, you had a lot of fun hanging around in bars and playing some pool, air hockey or even Pinball.

On the first weekend, Daryl surprised you with taking you to Atlanta. You had late breakfast together at a super sweet café, went on 'sightseeing tour' and strolled in the evening through one of the most beautiful Christmas fairs you had ever seen.

Snowflakes were dancing through the cold air, while you walked besides Daryl - who was finally wearing a winter coat and not 'just' a sweater - down the streets. Fairy lights were everywhere, just like various of Christmas trees; the smell of cinnamon, mulled wine, gingerbread and candied almonds in the air. It was almost magical. Different vendors were lined up at the streets at which you could buy different stuff... Beanies, mittens, fluffy socks and so much more.

"This is beautiful," you said, while looking around and smiling; not noticing that Daryl's gaze was on you. Just like you, he wanted to answer but the words got stuck in his throat; too afraid of going too far yet and screwing things up all over again. It was a shyness the biker didn't know he could feel. "Yeah," he more or less croaked out instead and nodded in approval. You smiled at him and continued to walk by his side down the decorated street.

At some point, you passed by an artificially created ice rink. It was quadratic and lined by thick boards. It wasn't super big, but a few people were already on the ice; casually skating. Lots of kids, too. Underneath the sinking sun and the fairy lights, it looked super romantic.

Your eyes widened; sparkling. "Daryl?" You asked in a sing-song voice and tugged gently at his winter coat. "Can we do that? Can we go ice skating?" The biker looked at you; blinking, before he scoffed. "Me 'n ice skating? Nah." You pouted. "Oh, please, please, please! It's gonna be so much fun, I promise!" He sighed. "I dunno, sunshine, I-" The nickname slipping past his lips accidentally. Once he noticed, he immediately continued to speak in order to try to cover up his slip. "I-I mean last time I checked, I sucked so bad at this..."

Unbeknownst to him, did your heart a little flip at the unintentional nickname.

"I'll help you. Promise - and if you don't like it, we'll stop right away, okay?" He grunted, but nodded and gave in; agreeing at last to go ice skating with you.

Once you changed from your boots inside ice skates, you were the first one setting foot on the rink - and it felt familiar instantly. In your youth, you used to ice skate a lot. You smiled and skated a small round. You noticed that you seemingly didn't unlearn how this worked. Daryl stood by the entrance; watching and biting the inside of his bottom lip. Insecurity, uncertainty and nervosity was written all over his face. For a moment, you felt bad for 'making' him do this, but on the other hand... You wanted to help him and loved the romantic flair of it.

You skated over and offered him your hand. "I got you, I promise." Daryl swallowed hard, but hesitatingly took your hand - awkwardly at first, and nevertheless didn't fail the touch of your skin on his to send a spark down his spine.

"C'mere," you urged him on softly; tugging at his hand gently. He nodded and complied your request and carefully put one foot after the other on the ice - his free hand clawing itself in the wooden barricade, which separated him from steady ground underneath his feet. "There you go." You smiled; giving his hand a firm squeeze. "Slowly, okay? One foot after the other." Daryl nodded. He felt like a goddamn toddler - and just like a toddler, he almost landed on his ass, once he started to move his feet. It was almost pathetic - not in your eyes, though. You quickly tightened your grip; slipping your fingers trough his - which sent another spark through Daryl and caused him to almost land on his ass again.

"T-Told ya I suck..." You shook your head and patiently helped him along. "You don't. You're pretty good for someone who hasn't done this is what, twenty years?" "Something along tha', yeah..." "See?" You smiled.

After twenty minutes or so, Daryl got the knack of it. He was a fast learner, like you noticed. By now, he was able to skate without holding onto the boards - just your hand.

"There you go!" You giggled cheerfully. "We're making an ice skating professional out of you, I swear." The biker scoffed at your words, "Pff... In yer damn dreams." but couldn't suppress the small smirk on his lips.

It was already quite late when Daryl drove back to Gainesville with you. A pleasant silence surrounded the both of you. It had definitely been another successful date; full of smiles, small affectionate gestures and good conversations. Communication is the key - like they say, so that's what you aimed to do... Talk.

Now you were seated in the passenger seat of the biker's truck; aimlessly gazing out of the window and letting your thoughts run free. They wandered from the events of the day and the past week to your study, over to your family back in Montana and to the most random things.

"Hey, you okay?" Daryl's voice suddenly cut through the air. You turned your head; noticing that he was looking at you, since the car had hit a red light. You gave him a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, just thinking." He nodded and gazed shortly at the traffic light, before his eyes returned to you; again gnawing on his bottom lip. "Wanna talk 'bout it?" Daryl asked after a long beat of silence; setting the truck into motion again. You shrugged your shoulders. "Been thinking about anything and everything really... About random things, my study, the past days... My family..." "Ya miss yer family?" You took a deep breath and nodded. "I do, yeah. I've never been away from home for such a long time, so... It's kind of strange. Gotta get used to it..." Daryl gave you a nod in understanding, even though his eyes were locked on the road ahead. "Since when do ya live with yer aunt 'n uncle? Where 'r yer parents?" "Since I was a little girl. They, uh, died in a car accident."

Daryl's heart dropped into his gut and he suddenly felt bad for asking you this so bluntly. "Shit, 'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean ta-" "You didn't. It's okay," you cut him off and smiled softly. "Me and Tess, we were so young when it happened... I feel like I didn't even know them, so..." "That still sucks. But at least ya got yer aunt 'n uncle - 'n 'specially Tess." You nodded approvingly, "Yeah..." and paused for a moment; pondering if you were going to ask the question inside your head or not.

In the end, you decided against it.

The second week of your stay in Georgia was quite enjoyable as well. You felt how your feelings for the biker started to bloom once again. It felt good and right. Small steps into the right direction. A subtle, innocent touch here, some gentle holding hands there, long hugs and even a few kisses on cheeks now and then.

Now it was already Friday and you were on your way to the workshop; spontaneously deciding to surprise Daryl with a cup of steaming hot coffee.

Entering the workshop, you gave the other guys working here a shy, although friendly look as you passed them by. Some of them acknowledged you and the gesture, some didn't. When you reached Daryl's little workplace corner, you smiled. You saw him hanging over the opened hood of a pick-up; apparently working on the motor of the big car.

He didn't notice you as you came to stand behind him, so you just shamelessly watched his body flex and move as he worked for a few moments, before you made yourself noticeable. "Coffee delivery for Mr. Dixon?"

Daryl stopped immediately in his movements and turned to face you; surprise written all over his face. He certainly didn't see that coming. "Y/N? Hey, uh..." "Hey." You smiled and stepped closer for an awkward half-hug, since you were carrying coffee and Daryl was covered in grease - what didn't keep you from pressing a soft kiss against his slightly cold cheek. After you did, though, you could see them warm up as a blush crept up his face. "Got coffee for you," you added and stretched out a cup to him. You took the other one. "Thought you could use something warm on this cold morning." The biker gave you a soft but honest smile, quickly wiped his hands and took the coffee cup from your hand into his; skin brushing against skin.

Goosebumps formed on his clothed skin - but not from the cold.

"Thanks." "You're welcome," you answered; still wearing that smile as you took a sip of the coffee. The cup warmed your hands, the coffee your tummy and Daryl's cute expression your heart.

Some good, casual small-talk was exchanged between the both of you; all the while you and him were sipping on the hot drinks in your hands. It felt good and right for you to be in the workshop - except for one thing... The eyes of some of Daryl's co-workers burning holes into your back. You could definitely feel that, too...

"Dar, I'm not sure if I like your fellow mechanic friends," you said with uncertainty swinging within your voice as you let your gaze roam around the big hall. "Ain't my friends... Least non of 'em really. Prolly except T-Dog, but he ain't here today." You giggled, "Good." but immediately realised that this actually sounded not very fortunate. "Shit, sorry, that sounded bad, I-" Daryl immediately shook his head; interrupting you. "No, 's a'right. I understand. I know what ya meant ta say."

Now you were the one blushing.

"Thanks. I, uh, like your biker gang friends way more... Where are they actually?" Daryl grunted and smiled; recalling the memories of the day and that evening he first met you. "They are spread all across Georgia, unfortunately... Dun meet 'em often. Way too less, if ya ask me. 'S just the problem tha' everyone of us has their own lifes, which makes things even more difficult." You nodded; understanding what Daryl meant. "I'm sorry about that." The biker shrugged, took the last sip of his coffee and placed the empty cup on the ground, "Dun be. 'M used to being alone." before he returned to his work. "Well, you shouldn't be alone... Nobody should."

Daryl froze for a moment. ''M better on my own', he wanted to answer - his mouth faster than his brain, but he managed to stop himself before the words could leave his mouth. It wasn't the truth. Not anymore. Not since he met you. Being alone seemed to be the most cruel thing for him now.

"Well, maybe tha' can change," Daryl whispered ultimately; looking over his shoulder to give you a hopeful, longing look.

You could swear that your heart skipped more than just one beat at his words. You smiled. "Yeah... Maybe..."

Daryl's lips twitched into a soft smile as well and before you could notice the blush on his face, he had turned to face the problem ahead.

After a long beat of pleasant silence, you took your last sip of coffee and decided to take your leave. "I, uh, I'll be going again. Do we see each other this evening? Maybe we could, uh, do something special, since it's the last day..."

Once more stopped Daryl his work and this time turned to face you fully again; nodding. "Yeah, I was thinkin' the same..." He fumbled almost nervously with the red rug hanging from his pocket. "Would ya like to, uh, come over? I could cook us somethin'." You immediately agreed to this with a smile on your face. "Yeah, absolutely. Sounds good." The biker gave you a curt nod. "Seven? Tha' okay?" "Sure. You're the cook. You call the shots." Another nod. "A'right. Seven then." "Seven it is."

You both exchanged another intense gaze, before Daryl cleared his throat and started to fumble with the red rug again; ready to focus on work again. "Aight, uh, Imma see ya later then?" This time you nodded; a small smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Uh, Daryl?" "Yeah?" "I need your address." He blinked, before it hit him. "Shit, righ', yeah, ya do." The man blushed once more and quickly scrambled to find something to write his address on; big, calloused palms gliding over his thighs and hips to pat the pockets of his overall. With a grunt he pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper and a very rugged looking pencil. You watched with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth how he took the pencil between his lips while deft fingers worked to smooth out the paper. Once that was done, he quickly scribbled his address on it and handed you the small note; head ducked. And once again you realised how much Daryl had changed. This wasn't the man you met all these months ago.

"Thanks," you smiled and stowed the note away in the pocket of your winter jacket, before you stepped closer to him once again and pressed another kiss against his beardy cheek. "See you tonight." Daryl nodded and subtly reached for your hand to give it a soft squeeze. You didn't mind at all. You couldn't care less that his hand wasn't squeaky clean. "See ya. Drive carefully, yeah? Snow storm's announced to hit Georgia this night." "Promise. You too, yeah?" The biker gave your hand another soft squeeze and nodded, before he let go of you again; watching you leave the workshop.

This evening was going to be special - hopefully...

Tags: @dixons-sunshine @angelwings-crossbowstrings @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @imadisneyprincessiswear @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @erebus-et-eigengrau @belitoxx @dixonsdarkelf @ffsjustletmesleep @lisluvstwd @marvelcasey05 @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @cakesandtom @mayday2007 @huntedmusicgardenn

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[ginxyy]

Backstage Encounters

Falling for an idol over backstage encounters is so cringe but here we are

MISSING JEONGHAN HOURS

It was a sweltering summer night in Seoul, the kind that made everything seem more vibrant than it really was. Lights bounced off every surface, creating a dazzling array of colors that swirled like confetti around the bustling buildings. I was merely a cog in the grand machine of the entertainment industry, working as a personal assistant for a few idols. My days were filled with schedules, rehearsals, and, occasionally, a touch of romance that lingered like the artificial perfume in the air.

Among the many faces that populated my chaotic world, Jeonghan stood out from the very first moment I saw him. With his cascades of golden hair that seemed to reflect the neon lights, and a smile that could melt ice, he was an idol in the truest sense. I would catch sight of him at various shows, his presence magnetic, drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity.

He was charming, of course; that was part of his allure. Those moments when we shared friendly hellos were fleeting, but they held a softness that seemed to linger long after he had turned away.

At first, our interactions were polite casual exchanges shrouded in the whirlwind of performances and the buzzing energy of fans. “Hey, how are you?” he would ask, his head tilted ever so slightly, his smile like a secret waiting to be shared. My responses were the usual rehearsed niceties, but deep down, my heart would flutter like the wings of a captured butterfly. I knew I was more than just a personal assistant in those moments; I was a curious spectator watching a love story unfold.

Our conversations slowly began to grow, evolving from polite small talk into actual exchanges of thoughts and feelings. We shared laughs over absurd backstage moments, and I learned about his passions beyond music, the places he longed to visit, and the little things that simply made life beautiful for him. I found myself enchanted, fiercely drawn to the depth behind those glimmering eyes. The chemistry was undeniable; little proving grounds where we danced around our mutual attraction, verbal sparring that felt like a prelude to something much deeper.

The flirting began uncharacteristically an odd comment here, a lingering look there. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, bold yet gentle, igniting a heat that coursed through my veins. Jeonghan had a way of making the ordinary feel extraordinary, and every quirk in his smile turned a simple hello into an electrifying moment that sent shivers through me.

It was during one particularly lustrous evening after a music show that the world coalesced into a dazzling blur of emotions. The green room was alive with laughter and chatter, a symphony of voices echoing off the walls muddled with the remnants of excitement from the stage. I was busy tidying up, ensuring everything was in order when I felt his presence behind me. It was as if time slowed down, the air thickening with unspoken words.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and laced with an oddly intimate timbre that made my heart race. I turned to face him, his frame framed by the soft glow of backstage lights. The laughter and noise around us faded into the background, leaving only the two of us in this charged bubble.

“Hey,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, knowing all too well the potential tremor that lay beneath such a simple word. Our eyes locked, the kind of anchored connection that made the world spin away until we were left with nothing but the unspoken tension hanging in the air.

“Can I steal you for a minute?” He stepped closer, the spaces between us evaporating. My breath caught, a flutter in my chest resonating wildly. His smile was both inviting and mischievous, a silent promise echoing between us. I nodded, unable to trust my voice now, as he guided me toward a quieter corner of the room.

The moment the door to the green room sprang shut behind us, reality transformed. The noise of the world faded, leaving just the two of us in a cocoon of intimate silence. In that small space, something shifted, like the electricity before a storm. The casual banter we’d shared morphed into something decidedly more heated, and I could feel the blush creeping into my cheeks, warmth flooding through me. His gaze danced across my face, searching, teasing, asking questions that words failed to convey.

“This is where the magic happens, isn’t it?” he said, his eyes shimmering with laughter as he gestured around me. I chuckled softly, the laughter spilling from my lips like a wave breaking on the shore. “I guess so,” I breathed, the proximity of our bodies igniting something in the air that made every nerve in my body sing.

And then, almost as if the universe had conspired to bring us to this moment, he stepped closer. The air thickened, pulsing with anticipation. “I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” he murmured, and before I could decipher the meaning, he closed the gap between us, his lips brushing against mine in a tender yet electrifying kiss.

It was soft at first, a cautious exploration of the uncharted territory we had danced around for so long. Any reservations melted away like snow in the sun. Mustering every ounce of bravery, I deepened the kiss, my fingers weaving into his hair. Our breaths mingled and hearts raced as if we were trying to outpace the very universe that brought us together.

Each heartbeat echoed louder than the chaos beyond the greenroom doors. This kiss was unlike anything I had ever experienced, filled with the passion we had kept at bay, an intoxication that filled my senses and made the world outside dissolve into a mere memory. It was a collision of longing and tenderness, excitement and vulnerability, echoed perfectly in our two souls colliding.

The moment stretched, time making fools of us both as neither of us seemed eager to pull away. Jeonhan’s hands found their way to my waist, firm yet gentle, pulling me closer as if trying to fold me into the very essence of him. I could taste the sweetness in the air, the heat rising, unraveling everything we had carefully crafted over the months. And in that green room, amidst the echoes of music and memories, I knew that what had started as mere hellos had blossomed into so much more.

As we finally parted, our foreheads resting against one another, I could see it in his eyes the unmistakable understanding that we had crossed a threshold, and there was no going back.

Jeonghan s forehead rested against mine, our breaths still mingling as if they shared the same rhythm. The silence that had enveloped us in those few precious moments felt like a cocoon, warm and safe. My pulse echoed in my ears, gradually slowing but still carrying the rush of what we’d just shared. The taste of him lingered—a mix of sweetness and something utterly intoxicating that was uniquely his. I felt his thumb gently trace a line along my cheek, his fingers brushing strands of hair behind my ear in a gesture so tender that it nearly unraveled me.

He let out a small, contented sigh, his eyes flickering open, dark and soft as they searched mine. “You… you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his voice low, each word carrying weight. His hand lingered on my jaw, the warmth of his skin seeping into me like a quiet fire.

I swallowed, barely finding my voice. “I thought… I thought it was just me,” I whispered, realizing just how deep those words cut. The longing, the uncertainty, the late nights replaying every moment we’d exchanged a glance or a word. And now, here we were, closer than I’d dared imagine.

His fingers traced my jawline as his lips curved into that irresistible, knowing smile, a hint of amusement in his gaze. “Only you could think that,” he teased, his voice soft, affectionate. And then, his face grew more serious, his thumb caressing my cheek slowly. “But I meant it. It was always you… from that very first time I saw you backstage, trying so hard not to look at me.”

I blushed, heat flooding my cheeks. “I wasn’t trying not to look…”

“Oh, no?” His hand slid to the nape of my neck, fingers weaving through my hair as he tilted my face slightly closer. His breath feathered against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. “You thought you were being so subtle,” he said softly, his words grazing the shell of my ear. “I could tell from across the room.”

He closed the remaining distance between us, his lips brushing mine once more, soft but with a hint of restraint. This time, though, there was no hesitancy in my response. I leaned into him, my hands finding their way to the cool fabric of his shirt, fingers clutching him as if to keep him from slipping away. His hands moved to my waist, holding me as though I were the only thing grounding him, the world outside forgotten.

The green room felt like it was shrinking around us, the walls pressing close, trapping the heady warmth that pulsed between us. Everything beyond this space had faded, the music and lights from the outside world a distant hum. His lips traveled along my jaw, tracing a path to my neck, his breath hot against my skin. My fingers gripped his shoulders, feeling the firmness beneath the thin layer of his shirt, the tension in his muscles mirroring my own.

Time seemed to stretch and bend, our breaths merging as we lost ourselves in each other’s closeness. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his gaze intense, eyes darkened with a mixture of desire and something even deeper, something unspoken that lingered in the space between us.

I searched his face, a silent question forming on my lips. But before I could voice it, his hand moved to cradle my face, his thumb sweeping gently across my cheek. “I don’t want this to end,” he whispered, the vulnerability in his voice catching me off guard.

My heart softened, and I found myself lost in the sincerity in his gaze. “Me neither,” I whispered, surprised by the depth of feeling those two words held.

He smiled, and something in that moment shifted. His lips met mine again, deeper this time, all traces of hesitance gone, replaced with a passion that had been simmering just below the surface, waiting for this exact moment to break free. The kiss grew urgent, a silent understanding passing between us, an unspoken promise.

His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. My fingers traced the outline of his shoulders, his back, feeling the strength beneath my touch, the heat radiating through him as he pressed me gently against the wall. He held me with a kind of reverence, as though I were something fragile yet fiercely precious. Every touch, every kiss felt like a confession, a revelation of the feelings we had kept guarded for so long.

Our breaths grew ragged, and he pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against mine once again. His hand moved to brush a stray hair from my face, and his eyes softened, his expression unguarded. “I feel like I’ve been waiting forever for this moment,” he said, his voice barely a murmur.

I could feel my heart clench, every word he spoke sinking deeper. “Me too,” I replied, and in that moment, there was nothing left to hide.

As the intensity ebbed just slightly, he took my hand, intertwining our fingers with a gentleness that belied the heat of the moment. His thumb brushed over my knuckles as he looked at me, a soft smile gracing his lips, one that made my heart stutter. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, his voice a gentle invitation.

A thrill ran through me as I nodded, feeling the warmth of his hand in mine, steady and sure. We slipped out of the green room together, each step punctuated by shared glances and quiet smiles, as though we were carrying a precious secret, a memory made in whispers and warmth.

The dim glow of the single light in the dressing room cast shadows across his face, highlighting the soft, intense look in his eyes as he stepped toward me, closing the space between us. My pulse quickened, each beat echoing in my ears as his hand lifted, his fingers grazing my cheek in a touch so gentle it sent a shiver down my spine. He tilted my face up toward him, his thumb sweeping over my cheek as his gaze held mine with an intensity that made everything around us blur.

Without a word, he leaned down, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that was both soft and fierce, a blend of longing and restraint that sent warmth flooding through me. My hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers tracing the muscles there, feeling the tension coiled beneath my touch. I pressed closer to him, drawn to his warmth, his presence, as if I could somehow merge my own heartbeat with his.

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us, our bodies molded together as if they were meant to fit this way. I could feel the heat radiating from him, a slow, pulsing warmth that seemed to sync with my own, our breaths mingling in the charged air between us. His lips moved with an intensity that matched the quickening pace of my heartbeat, a silent promise wrapped in every gentle, yet insistent, brush of his mouth against mine.

As our kiss deepened, his hands traveled down my sides, his fingers trailing along my waist, leaving a line of fire in their wake. I felt his hands settle on my hips, his grip firm yet gentle, and he pulled me even closer, our bodies pressed together in a way that felt both thrilling and grounding. His touch was a blend of passion and restraint, every move of his fingers a careful exploration, as if he wanted to memorize every curve, every line.

He broke the kiss only briefly, his mouth moving to trace a path along my jaw, leaving a trail of warmth with each kiss. My breath hitched as his lips found the hollow just beneath my ear, and he lingered there, his breath hot against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. His hands slid up my back, fingers splaying across my shoulders, holding me to him as he continued his slow, tantalizing exploration. I let out a quiet sigh, tilting my head back as he moved to press his lips to the sensitive spot on my neck.

With each touch, each brush of his lips, my senses seemed to heighten, the room shrinking until it was just us, wrapped in each other, the air thick with unspoken need. His fingers trailed down my spine, his touch featherlight, yet igniting sparks that radiated through me, settling low and deep. My hands moved of their own accord, sliding down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine, darkened with the same longing that mirrored my own. For a moment, we simply looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between us, the air thick with anticipation. He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering, his thumb tracing slow circles on my cheek.

“I don’t want to hold back anymore,” he murmured, his voice rough, yet softened by something deeper, something vulnerable. There was a rawness in his gaze that left me breathless, my heart swelling with the realization that this moment meant as much to him as it did to me.

I didn’t respond with words; instead, I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips to his with a fervor that matched the heat simmering between us. This time, there was no hesitation, no holding back. His arms tightened around me, his hands moving with purpose as they traveled down my back, his touch both firm and tender, grounding and electrifying all at once.

I felt his hands slide beneath the fabric of my shirt, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of my back, and a shiver raced through me at the contact. His touch was warm, his fingers tracing lazy patterns against my skin as he pulled me even closer. Our kiss grew more heated, more urgent, a silent confession in every movement, a melding of longing and tenderness that left us both breathless.

My fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer as I deepened the kiss, feeling his sharp intake of breath, the way his body responded to mine. His hands slid to my waist, lifting me slightly as he pressed me back against the wall, his body leaning into mine in a way that made every nerve in my body sing. The coolness of the wall against my back contrasted with the heat radiating from him, amplifying the intensity of the moment, heightening every sensation.

His lips left mine, traveling down my neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses along my collarbone. Each touch was deliberate, a silent declaration that seemed to say, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. My hands roamed over his back, feeling the strength beneath his skin, the way his muscles tensed beneath my touch as he pulled me closer, as though he couldn’t bear to let even a breath of space exist between us.

The world outside this room, the noise, the lights, everything faded away, leaving only the two of us locked in this intimate, electrifying embrace. He lifted his head, his gaze meeting mine, his eyes softened with something deeper, something that went beyond the heat of the moment. He pressed his forehead to mine, his breath warm against my lips as he whispered, “I’ve never felt this way before.”

Those words, simple yet filled with so much meaning, sent a thrill through me, my heart pounding with a realization that left me dizzy. I tightened my grip on him, a silent answer, a promise that mirrored his own.

As our breaths slowed, the initial fervor giving way to a quieter intensity, he cradled my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gentle circles on my cheeks. His eyes searched mine, his expression softening as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and in that moment, I saw not just the idol, the image everyone adored, but the person beneath, raw and real, vulnerable and open.

We stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, our foreheads pressed together, our breaths mingling in the quiet that settled around us like a warm blanket. His fingers tangled in my hair, his touch tender, reverent, as though he were afraid that if he let go, I would disappear. And as I looked into his eyes, my own heart laid bare, I knew that I was falling..falling deeper than I’d ever thought possible, into something that felt too big, too real, too beautiful to fully comprehend.

He pulled me into another kiss, this one slower, more tender, filled with an unspoken promise that sent warmth flooding through me. His hands roamed up and down my back, his touch gentle yet lingering, a constant reminder that he was here, that this moment was ours and ours alone. We lost ourselves in each other, in the gentle rhythm of our breaths, in the warmth of our embrace, in the quiet promise that bound us together.

When we finally pulled back, our foreheads still pressed together, he smiled, his eyes bright with a mixture of wonder and tenderness. He lifted a hand, his fingers brushing over my cheek, tracing the line of my jaw, as though memorizing every detail.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet awe that made my heart ache with the depth of my own feelings.

I smiled, my hand moving to rest over his, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. “So are you,” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper, but the words carried everything I felt, everything I couldn’t yet say.

In that quiet, intimate moment, we held each other close, a sense of peace settling over us, grounding us in a way that felt as natural as breathing. And as I looked into his eyes, my heart swelling with a love that was both thrilling and terrifying, I knew that this was only the beginning.

[mock-arts]

In honor of me not having any more bangs on the schedule for the year, here's part 1/2 of my 2023 cover collection! This portion 100% star wars. The next bit will be up tomorrow. I've started a cover collection tag for the compilations like this, but you can always look through all my bang art in my big bang tag. Though, not all of these were for big bangs. Eh, whatever.

Links and summaries below the cut!

Cover collection 2023

So There's this Guy by @catbuirs-alt & @elsaanna007 (art) (with more art by @anstarwar)

The war is over!

Jesse, Kix, Echo and Fives live together in an apartment on Coruscant.

Echo finds himself in a new romance with a beautiful woman named Hehna. After finding himself lacking in experience, Fives offers to help him out with advice and practice.

Unfortunately for Fives, this awakens some feelings he thought were buried deep and he doesn’t know what to do about them. He decides to put them aside and be happy that Echo has found someone.

Fives’ advice does help Echo become more confident with his new girlfriend, but something is holding him back. His thoughts keep returning to his best friend and he’s not the only one who notices. Will Fives keep his role as the best friend, or will Echo realize that his attraction to Hehna pales in comparison to his feelings for Fives?

Keep by @tallnegotiations (art)

Vader is a technical genius, it is a well-known fact. So, following his defeat at the hands of his old Master on Mustafar and the rise of the Empire, Vader executes his greatest act of genius to prove his dominance: he creates an artificial intelligence modeled after Obi-Wan Kenobi.

After the rise of the Empire, nothing remains of Commander Cody except for CC-2224, just another rank-and-file stormtrooper among many. He goes where he is told to go, shoots where he is told to shoot, and doesn't question it because good soldiers follow orders.

A droid told to be human meets a human told to be a droid. They meet somewhere in the middle.

(Tooka) Cat-Scratch Fever by @pebblish (art)

Luke is lonely, and instead of joining space bumble decides to cure the problem with a tooka cat. When he visits a shelter, he stumbles upon the most unadoptable feline there- a scarred, jet black, mangy creature that tears apart the homes of any who dare to adopt him.

Darth Vader has been turned into a tooka cat by his former Master, Darth Sidious. And now, he's been adopted by some blonde brat who has no idea who he's dealing with.

The pair of them are in for some startling revelations, and each will have to learn that what you want isn't always what you need.

I Wear My Sunglasses at Night by Trillium Orchid (art)

Force Osik can make things difficult and decidedly strange. Sith versions of Cody, Fox, Thorn, Thire, and Stone get switched with the bodies of their alternate selves that are from a near-cannon timeline…

They decide to Help Things- and manage to kill the Chancellor. Meanwhile, the vod’e that they switch with is trying to get back home and hop a few universes before getting switched back… after the Sith versions kill the Chancellor.

Ripple in the Universe by @darthtarvera (art)

Jango Fett has done many things in service to Mandalore. Tricking a couple of Jedi so he can use them to get to the heart of a conspiracy seems simple enough to add to the list. Get the Jedi, get to Mandalore, and find the traitors. One more step to take on his path to fix the mistakes from the last time he did this.

Ripples on the water can have longer-lasting effects than you might think. Jango Fett and Obi-Wan Kenobi meet years before they were supposed to.

This changes things.

An Hourglass in Hand by @ecarian (art) (with more art by @blog-o-randomness)

“I thought daemons didn’t eat,” Rex noted once, during a celebration feast, as he and Cody watched Boga devour her meal with some fascination. Varactyl she may be, but she was a tiny one. There wasn't much interior space for the truly momentous amount of meat she was ripping into. Boga daintily rubbed her beak against a folded serviette that looked kind of like a bird, and said, prim, “I can do anything a human can do.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan said mildly, from where he’d been tapping at a datapad. “Shall I save you a portion of these reports then?”

No Trophies, Only Prisoners by @diviluscorner (art)

Jango’s life took a wrong turn somewhere around Geonosis and spat him out years later to haunt one of his clones.

Or perhaps Jango doesn't realize the Force has other plans for him.

Every Shadow by @kenobster (art)

The days on Kadavo were long, but the nights moved quickly. Hundreds of pairs of wide, sleepless eyes haunted the space of the holding cells. Droves of terror clogged the heavy, sweaty air, and every sound, however faint, was like a physical ripple across the crowd. Every sound. The jingling of keys, the clicking of locks, the thudding of boots, and that’s how the nights on Kadavo started—with a gradual increase in the degree of quiet.

OR—during the mass casualty event following Kadavo and Zygerria, Obi-Wan and Anakin seek ways to cope with trauma.

[amaditalks]

Every year all of the big diet companies have to come up with some brand new labeling for their plans in order to encourage people to get on the January weight loss train.

This year, Weight Watchers is going further than they’ve ever gone before, by announcing that they have created a new system to give their members access to prescriptions for drugs like Ozempic and Mounjaro.

Let me remind you that these drugs only work while you’re taking them. As soon as you stop, all of your appetite comes back. Your desire to eat returns, and because it has been artificially suppressed it may feel much stronger and less controllable than it was before you took the drugs. Many people who come off these drugs, usually because of cost (because insurers are balking at coverage for weight loss) or shortages (because so many people are taking them for weight loss, which is leaving the diabetics who need them up shit creek) or side effects report that the first weeks are really difficult, mentally painful and often binging occurs.

Additionally, all of these drugs carry a real risk of creating a terribly painful and potentially deadly condition called Gastroparesis, in which your gastrointestinal system just stops functioning, you cannot digest and process food at all.

You do not need to lose weight to be healthy. You do not need to lose weight to be beautiful or attractive, to have success, or love. You do not need to lose weight in order to pursue fitness. If you have particular health needs or goals that can only be achieved by changing the way you eat, (e.g. lowering cholesterol or blood glucose or addressing gastro issues) that does not mean that you need a weight loss diet plan, just one designed toward your needs.

But more than anything, you do not ever need to put another penny into the coffers of the multibillion dollar weight loss industry, which, if it actually had a way to take a fat person and make them thin permanently (something that cannot even be achieved by surgeries that drastically rearrange digestive systems) would be a multi quadrillion dollar industry instead. 

[reixtsu]

*ೃ༄ Whispers In The Twilight ༉‧₊˚.

༊*·˚ Aventurine x reader

༊*·˚ Genre: angst with sweet comfort

༊*·˚ Synopsis: While enjoying the night on Aventurine’s patio, your intrusive thought start to invade. Luckily your wonderful partner is here to comfort you. (´ε｀ )♡

༊*·˚ A/N: I was feeling very down the day I wrote this, I so I thought about sharing this comfort story in hopes to help those who feel similarly. Enjoy!

༊*·˚ Word count: 1k

To Aventurine, you were the best thing he has won is his god-forsaken life. You were the light of his world, a candle in a dark tunnel, his reason to continue living. He was willing to do anything for you, even sacrifice himself for you. In his eyes, you were worth the whole world. So why couldn't you see that yourself? Why couldn't you understand your own value? Why do you belittle yourself so much? That was something that Aventurine could never grasp.

You sat with Aventurine on the patio of his penthouse, gazing up at the artificial stars that dotted the night sky. The soft flicker of candlelight bathed the patio in a warm, golden glow, creating an intimate ambiance. You sighed contentedly as you rested your head on Aventurine's lap, feeling the tranquility of the moment settle around you.

Placing a gentle hand in his, you gracefully slipped off his rings one by one, followed by his silk glove, revealing the warmth of his skin beneath. You took his hand in yours, bringing it tenderly to your lips. "You are so beautiful," you whispered, your voice soft and breathy, as your half-lidded eyes gazed up into Aventurine’s with a deep, lingering affection.

Aventurine smiled warmly, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. "I should be the one saying that to you, sweetie," he murmured, his voice tender and full of affection.

You smiled, though it looked a bit forced, the corners of your lips not quite reaching your eyes, before you closed them again, letting the moment pass in silence.

He observed you closely, his gaze softening as he kept his hand over yours, savoring the warmth between you. "Is something wrong?" he asked gently, concern threading through his voice.

You hummed, shifting your head on his lap. "No. Why would there be?" You asked softly.

Aventurine could spot an actor from a mile away—after all, he was one too—but unlike him, you lacked the years of experience in concealing your emotions. There was a subtle sadness in your voice, a note of vulnerability that didn’t go unnoticed. Your body was tense, and your hand only tightened around his, a silent plea for comfort. "You can be honest," he said softly. "We're alone.”

Silence, silence, and more silence. All the two of you could hear was the cracking of the candles. Aventurine sighed, bringing his other hand to start combing your hair. You sighed, leaning into his touch. "What? Don't you trust me?" He teased.

You scoffed, opening your eyes again to look at his frame. "I trust you, 'turine," You said softly. "I'm just... thinking."

"About what?"

You averted your gaze, your eyes darkening as a shadow of emotion crossed your face. "I hate pain," you said simply, the words carrying a weight that lingered in the air between you.

Aventurine blinked, pausing his strokes on your hair.

"We experience it every day. Stress, pain-just existing is painful," you said, exhaling shakily as you tried to rein in your rising emotions. "I'm so tired. Day by day, I lose the will to keep going. I have no purpose, no reason to keep living. And what makes it worse is knowing that there are people out there, really struggling, fighting to survive. And here I am, wishing for death.”

Aventurine hummed, staying silent. He didn't know the best way to comfort you when you were like this.

"People tell me I should be grateful for my life, and I am. I have you, after all," you said, forcing a smile as tears welled up in your eyes. "But I hate dealing with all the negatives. I wish I could stay with you forever in a utopia, but this world is anything but that. I hate it. I'm so tired, I want to disappear-"

"My love," Aventurine interrupted gently, placing a finger over your lips to quiet your words. "I know this world can be a terrible place to exist. But when you're by my side, you make everything bearable. With you, I can see color, endure pain, laugh, and love.”

You stayed silent, sniffing as your tears threatened to fall. "But—" you began, your voice trembling as you struggled to find the words to express the conflict within you.

"You are the one that keeps me alive. I want to be your reason to live."

"...Huh?"

Aventurine placed his hands gently on your hips, lifting you to sit on his lap, facing him. "Make me the reason you live," he said firmly, his grip on your waist tight yet comforting. "Do I not make you happy? Don’t I lighten your burdens?”

You couldn’t meet his intense gaze, too ashamed and afraid to look him in the eye. "You do..." you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Then what can I do? What can I do to stop these intrusive thoughts of yours? It might be impossible, but I am willing to take a gamble."

You stared at the ground, your eyes and emotions becoming numb, something they always did when your emotions started to become too strong for you to handle. "I could be laying in a grave today, all of my efforts are going to waste. Everything stays the same while we play and waste away. Some things are impossible but my death is fated to arrive. Why can't I decide when it will happen?"

Aventurine paused, his eyes glistening with a mix of fear and desperation. Despite being blessed by a god, he didn't believe in any divine power. No deity had saved his sister when she died, nor his mother. No god had intervened when he was enslaved by the IPC. Uncertain of how to answer your question, he decided on the one thing he felt he could do: he wrapped you in a tight, reassuring embrace.

Cold arms wrapped around your warm body, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. Your breath hitched, and a single tear traced down your cheek as you began to tremble.

"I don't want you to die," Aventurine said, stuffing his face into your neck, his hands massaging little circles along your back. "You're my lucky charm, I need you, a lot more than what you think."

You started crying, no longer able to uphold the barrier. You clung into him, sobbing into his pricy leather coat. Feelings attack you like an avalanche, waves of negativity and guilt dancing in the hole of your heart, kicking and tearing at it, only making it hurt more.

"Live. Leave the dying to the dead, alright?"

You sniffed, digging your face into his shoulder. "That doesn't even make sense, 'turine."

He chuckled, the sound a soothing melody that fought against the demons within you. "Of course it makes sense," Aventurine said simply, his voice steady and reassuring.

There was a moment when you and Aventurine were wrapped in a tight embrace, his arms holding you as you sobbed uncontrollably. After a while, your tears subsided, and you lifted your head from his shoulder, noticing the damp spots on his clothes. "Ah, your clothes..." you said softly, a hint of embarrassment in your voice.

Aventurine shook his head, his charming smile lighting up his face as it always did for you. "No need to worry," he said gently. "It’s replaceable. You, my dear, are not.”

You wrapped your arms around him, a small, grateful smile touching your lips. "Thanks. I'm sorry for crying," you murmured softly.

He clicked his tongue, his smile gentle. "You don’t have to apologize, sweetie. I’m glad I could help you." With that, he leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on your lips.

A/N: I was listening to that one Hu Tao fan song… so if someone is able to guess which one it is I’ll grant you my upmost respect. Hint: It’s sung by Will Stetson. Oh shoot! Is that hint too easy?

[artist-issues]

Okay, Just to Keep My Sanity and Remind Everybody that I’m NOT GOING ANYWHERE Because They ARE Christians and HE FINISHES WHAT HE STARTS:

Here are all the evidences that twenty one pilots are probably not attempting to deconstruct the faith or creating a story that’s all about religious guilt -

The Torchbearer character has a lot in common with the one and only true God, the God of the Bible: there’s three of him but one of him. He has tape that stretches in the shape of a cross which connects over his heart. He never leaves Clancy (Tyler) no matter what Clancy’s feelings might be about being alone. He’s undefeated. He does all the rescuing.

7 of the 14 tracks on Blurryface have to do with God directly. These usually paint God in a frightening, but ultimately desperately-needed, only-hope light. Not in a “if only I could get away from You” light. And a desperately-need-You-even-if-I’m-scared light is the kind of light you paint Him in when you actually know what He’s like, not when you’re just parroting religious lines or vibes you’ve grown up with. “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.” - Hebrews 10:31 goes together with: “and I give eternal life to them, and they will never perish—ever; and no one will snatch them out of My hand.” - John 10:28. You have to know what it feels like, being in that Hand even if you’re—in body—on this World for a little while—to write something like that.

Even the tracks that aren’t directly about God are stuffed with Biblical principals. Not every worldview believes that to be loved truly you need to have someone who’s willing to hurt your feelings to clean out your crap. A lot of worldviews go for “accept me as I am if you love me,” they don’t say, “tear into my heart.” But the Bible does. And twenty one pilots does. For example. “For the Lord disciplines the one He loves, and chastises every son whom he receives.”

In the DEMA storyline the bad guys are bishops, but bishops is not always a term associated with a real Christian leader. In Jesus’ time Pharisees would’ve been considered “tradition of the elders,” and “elders” is where we got our version of “bishop” that more modern people use today—but Jesus sure didn’t think of Pharisees as the actual leaders of the kingdom of God. He said they were whitewashed tombs. Imposters. They used false religious practice to warp real devotion to God. Artificial. Like the artificial lights in DEMA versus the natural light of the Bandito torches.

The artificial light of DEMA versus the natural light of the Bandito torches! That’s a clue too. God made natural light. Fire. Sun. Both things that the DEMA storyline paints as good (though with that element of “fearful but our only hope.”) In 2 Corinthians 11:14 Satan, the BAD GUY, is described as “disguising himself as an angel of light.” Fake light. Versus verses like this, about God and the sun: “For at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light” There are like over one hundred verses about Him and Light. Also “For our God is a consuming fire.” There’s several about Him being or bringing fire, too. Plus the Sun.

The Sun rises in the East. “The revolution shall arise with the Sun.” And “East is Up.” In the Ancient world, the maps had East at the top of their compasses, instead of North. Just like the DEMA lore’s corrected map. “Their compass lies” but if you turn it so that East is Up, you can see things for what they are, in twenty one pilots lore. Ancient maps, too, had East as up—because what was significant was that the sun rose in the East. Not just the sun. The morning and evening star. And the Bible specifically likens Christ to the Morning and Evening Star—heralding the dawn, the end of night. Christ is also going to come back in the East. East is associated with God, and good. And a Christian knows it.

So much of the DEMA lore is about escaping something old and routine because it’s evil and twisted and finding the Good, Beautiful, True. And now it’s even about “Destroy Them So We Don’t Become Them.” The idea is that the bad guys have distorted the truth, but there is still truth out there. The bad guys are doing things the wrong way, but that doesn’t mean there is no right way. Clancy even writes “true freedom, real hope.” And every scrap of the above hints seem to be pointing at the right way having something to do with Christianity.

Trench might have been where Tyler was imagining a world with no God, but also, on a meta level, Trench is the part in the story where the character has been imprisoned by wrong thinking and is just now trying to escape—but it begins and ends with him getting locked up in the wrong thinking. So if Trench begins and ends with wrong thinking, and Trench is about a world with no God, it stands to reason he won’t stay there.

Tyler started this whole mask thing with Christianity. Clear: “I wish I had two faces to prove which theory works / Yelling on the street corner or cleverly masking your words.” That whole song is about how to share the Gospel, the fact that you’re an imposter but your Father determines your identity anyway, and how to make that make sense to outsiders so they can be saved, too. Take that concept, that “I’ll use masks, I’ll communicate who I really am by starting with a mask” and superimpose it over their whole career.

The skeleton keys. Josh likes aliens and Tyler likes dead imagery, but it’s never just that. They always have more than one reason for something. The Bible calls Christians “dead to sin,” the old self is “dead,” the spirit is “alive.” And the Bible calls Christians “strangers and aliens” in this present world, and when it says “world” it means an idealogical and spiritual system that is in rebellion to God. Christians live in that but they’re not apart of that. Aliens and skeletons.

Tyler Joseph wrote Dead Come Alive. I know he had Travis Whitaker’s help. But I don’t believe you can write something like that and not have been shown who God is.

They both made professions of faith. He who began a good work in them will be faithful to complete it. And if they don’t endure, if they drop the faith, it’s not a sign that He doesn’t hang on. It’s a sign that they were never in His hand. Like the seeds that get excited about the kingdom of God for a period of time, but ultimately excitement isn’t relationship, and they’re carried away by the next exciting ideology or circumstance the World throws at them.

Thanks for coming to my list

[genshin-squabbles-and-wobbles]

hi there! if it's okay, may i please request albedo, kazuha, scara and xiao when the reader sleeps on the couch after an argument (not yandere, pls)?

Yes you may dear. And of course it won't be Yandere haha.

Albedo ✦༝┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉˚**.☣ ♡ ☣.**˚┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉༝✦

After calming down from the argument, Albedo was heading to bed, as he was tired.

You guys have a nice quiet house in place in Mondstadt. A quiet area of the country.

Once he is situated in bed, as routined and out of habit that you two created together, he waited for you to join him, maybe you guys can talk and apologize in each other's arms.

After an hour, he sighed and sat up. "Where are they?" He muttered and stood up from bed.

He went into the bathroom to see if you were still getting ready for bed, as it was a usual routine for you to be in the bathroom getting ready for bed.

However, once he didn’t find you there, he then went towards your living room area, and there he saw you.

He saw you, sleeping on the couch, with a small blanket, and the window open.

Seeing this scene made his heart clench, a scene that will stick to the back of his head for a while, a scene he never will put on a canvas.

Slowly, he walked to you, with guilt dripping down the inside of his artificial chest.

"Hey..." He gently shook you with his hand on your shoulder. "Please, wake up. Don’t sleep here...please?"

You opened your eyes a bit and glanced at him tiredly. You then turned your back to him.

However, he grabbed your arm to prevent you from turning, as he took your chin and made you look into his eyes. "I'm sorry if I went over the line, and said something that hurt you. I never wanted to push you to...this conclusion. Please come back to bed with me...I...I miss you there with me."

You looked to the side a bit, thinking of what to do, however, you couldn’t stay mad at him.

You ended up returning to bed with him, as you feel him desperately cuddle you close to him. As if to prevent you from ever recreating such a scene again.

Kazuha Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ*:.*:..*:...｡o○*:.*:..*:...｡o○　　○o｡..:*..:*..:*○o｡..:*..:*..:*Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

An argument with Kazuha seemed impossible, however things happened, especially when previous stress was involved with them.

Lately, Kazuha hasn’t been spending much time with you, as he seemed stressed about things. You'd always check in on him with things, but he would shut you out.

Eventually, all things came to a head, when you two got into an argument about his behavior and how you hated that you felt pushed away. However, he seemed sterned with his behavior.

With that, you were too frustrated to be in the same room as him. You decided to sleep on the couch. You need to cool off from things, maybe a nice break will do.

You slowly close your eyes and drifted to sleep. Maybe you can go out and take a day for yourself for once. You can't force him to come to you after all.

However, a few hours later, you felt arms around your torso, and a warm heat pressed against your back. You felt a face buried into your neck.

You woke up in surprised, as he hasn’t held you like this in a long while. You gently turned your head a bit. "K-Kazuha dear?"

"My beloved, I...I apologize for my behavior and how I have acted towards you...please know you are the most precious Maple leaf that as ever fallen into my hand and I never meant to crush your beauty within my grasp...."

You felt him tighten his arms around you. "You see, something happened on the ship with Beidou. I have met someone who known my friend...the friend who was struck down by Raiden Shogun and..."

There was a small pause.

"It brought back so many painful things for me to hold myself together for a bit. I am sorry for taking it out on you..I should have told you...at least let you know that I needed time...to me.."

You smiled and turned, and gently pulled his head into your chest and rubbed his back, as he recited poetic whispers to you, and reminding you that he loves you.

Kazuha eventually fell asleep in your arms, reminding himself that this was what comfort felt like with his beloved.

Scaramouche ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙��•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Of course you're going to have your arguments with this little shit, arguing is basically his love language at this point.

However, this particular argument really struck a chord with you, he was hitting all your sensitive and soft areas with the most pettiest language to express his points to you.

As it got too much, you left. No matter how much he yelled at you to come back, you refused. You had enough. You don't want to even see him.

Later that night, you decided to sleep on the couch in your office. You just wasn’t in the mood to see him.

Of course, not even seconds later, you heard him come into your office, as your back was turned to the door therefore, also him.

"This is stupid, come to bed, you are being dramatic." He complained. However you didn’t respond, immediately showing the disconnect you had with him. Showing the distance you had with him.

He continued to complain as a way to convince you, however, you never responded.

Annoyance turned into anxiety very quickly for him, as he walked to you and went to his knees by you. He placed his hand on your back. "H-Hey...at least respond to me..."

He spoke with nervousness, and why wouldn’t he? You never abandoned him no matter how difficult he was, you were all he had. The only person who understood him and made him feel loved.

Nothing, no response.

Scaramouche pressed his forehead against your back. "I'm sorry...I know I went too far...I know I shouldn’t have said those things."

He squeezed your arm. "I'll...I'll leave you alone for once..." He said quietly and stood up and left.

All you heard was a quiet click of your office door closing. That is the most quietest he had ever been.

Xiao ✧───────── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ──────────✧

Of course, he wouldn’t understand at first why you chose to do this.

Was this a human custom to do when they are upset or being resentful?

However, it doesn’t matter, one common thing spoke to him about this, and that thing is. Guilt.

He felt guilty, what was wrong with him? How can he pushed the only person away, the one person he wanted to protect from this world

He thought of himself as the very monster that hurt you.

Despite his thought process, he wouldn’t show it, he needed to remain strong, he needed to.

That was until he saw you sleeping in the Wangshu inn lobby, on the couch. not in his room with him.

The desire to remain strong slowly left him as he was drowning in guilt. He shouldn’t have let his temper get the better of him. Why did he do that? Overthinking guilty thoughts plagued his mind.

He had flashed backs of his yaksha family that passed, was he going to lose you like them as well?

Fear filled his heart.

He walked up you, and looked straight at your beautiful face that gave him so much smiles, kisses and nuzzles.

"Please don’t...do this to me..." He whispered to you, as he placed his hand on your arm. "I'm sorry I..."

You didn’t respond, as you were half sleep.

Reaching a limit, you felt Xiao immediately pick you up, bridal style to get your full attention. He looked at you with a desperate face.

You looked into his eyes, as you immediately woken up from his actions. "X-Xiao..."

Xiao immediate pressed his forehead against yours. "Please come back to bed with me...I can’t... I can’t stand you being here out in the open like this...with everyone seeing you..."

As he said this, he was carrying you back into his room, as he was planning to take care of you and make sure you were in his arms by the end of the day.

[uyunto]

hii! i was making my own oc for tginf and decided to make mine into a balatro card like i did into all the other characters, and i also made your tginf oc as well! i saw it on arrimorr’s blog, but it didn’t mention the name. if it has a name, what is it? i’ve just been calling it “the construct”. i like how its a covblement of a bunch of parts oxygen probably found around the woods from all the unfortune travelers that ended up there! i really like your art btw (especially the cardboard dolls, that was the first thing i saw you make!)

HIII WHAAAT I CHOKED what a nice beginning of the day😭🙏💖💖💖😳 HE'S SO BEAUTIFUL... and thank youuuuv

his name is Junk! Junk in fact consists of any sort of garbage, so you're right! it's everything man-made and inorganic that has ended up on the Road or left over from people absorbed by the Forest. Junk is literally a walking dump of broken road signs, car pieces left after car crashes, roadside cenotaphs, artificial flowers and wreaths, cigarette butts, food packaging, personal things from car glove compartments, etc.

when i came up with the idea of junk-consisted character in Tginf, i was thinking that all the garbage and litter on the Road had to go somewhere since the Forest can't absorb inorganic things (i guess). i thought, like, hey there's just have to be some junkyard with cars and litter left by travellers ended up on the Road. and there could be some folk who would be interested in keeping the Forest and the Road itself clean.

when i was sharing my idea with Arrimorr, she said he could be an Oxygen's follower. what i think: the Oxygen create things "out of nothing", and you know, a bunch of garbage is pretty much a material thing, but there can still be a chance she could create another being that would be used to "clear the environment and the air", since we talk about Oxygen. after all he could be just a place with all the "ugly" and inappropriate things Oxygen wouldn't want to see around. but it's just my thoughts, basically i let Arrimorr do whatever she wants to Junk (like it's just a guy i made inspired by her Tginf setting)

Junk's occupation is being something like a traffic cop on the Road (i couldn't find the way to translate his name in English in order to keep the pun, but the thing is that in Russian language the word meaning "garbage" is also how people call policemen). If ordinary police officers have flashlights, then Junk's flashlights are his eyes themselves, basically their role is played by two car headlamps. there's also two-colored emergency police lighting installed on his chest, you know, like a ribbon bar:

usually, Junk doesn't speak. he haven't got a mouth basically, but he came up with a way: if necessary, he can "speak" by cutting up words from different songs from music discs using a car radio. before he learned this communication, he just "shout" by activating the alarm or using car horns.

i was thinking he could have sort of a sword, which is basically a road signs post sharpen on the end, but now i don't think it's necessary since Junk is about 4-5 meters tall. also he can sort of "fall apart" and pretend to be an ordinary junkyard and then reassemble himself like a construction set (the lego they have at home..). and so he can literally use parts of himself as a weapon if there's a fight lol

by the way, due to his height, Junk can easily pick up radio signal, and he generally really likes listening to music through a radio that is located somewhere inside him.

excuse my being weird but i just wanted to say i ship Junk and the King of the Road🗣️🗣️🗣️ because Junk is literally a concentration of human creations, and the King is fascinated by humans as far as i remember. and King doesn't care it's basically just a garbage. i mean im dying when i think of Junk taking out of himself silly little human things and explaining it's meaning to the King (Junk listens to the human radio and music, the guy know what he's talking about). also i was thinking about Junk and Oxygen, how Junk do a "penguin pebbling" by bringing her nice shiny little things and she honestly doesn't find them beautiful but at the same time she can't reject them

thank you for giving me a chance to rattle about him!!🥺🫶 have a great dayy

[poppitron360]

i love epic too! and i think ur super smart so can you share any cool things that you noticed/learned about it?

So I think my favourite song in Epic in terms of the composition is probably Scylla.

Btw this analysis barely scratches the surface of the composition/production of this song alone. I could talk for hours about this.

Also if I use any words you don’t understand, please please please ask me to elaborate and explain further (please). I tried my best to make it as easy to follow as possible but I grew up around this stuff so I tend to under-explain things and assume everyone knows what I’m talking about.

Most of the time when you’re recording vocals, you record the singer singing the melody two or three times (this is called double-tracking, and it makes the voice sound richer and better) and then you record the harmonies in the same fashion.

But with Scylla, they just recorded the singer singing the melody a bunch of times, and then pitch-shifted some of it to the harmonic note. When using any kind of DAW (Digital Audio Workspace (Sidenote but from what I can tell from the vids, Jay uses GarageBand, which I believe is free for most devices)), manipulating a note- changing the tempo, or in this case, changing the pitch- of a naturally-recorded instrument like a singing voice will make it sound really artificial.

(I love this because it’s clear that Jorge doesn’t have the best equipment and he’s using it to his advantage. Something recorded on a crappy four-track tape recorder in your bedroom can sound so much cooler than something recorded at Real World Studios or Abbey Road with the world’s best recording equipment- but only if you know what you’re doing.)

Also, in the context of Epic, the more synthetic, artificial, and electronic sounds are reserved for the mythical characters- the gods and monsters.

Taking a quick re-listen to Scylla’s song, I’ve noticed she’s harmonising on the 3rd and 5th of the note (now, I don’t have perfect pitch (which is when you can tell what note it is just by ear) so I could be wrong).

This is a very simplified explanation, but basically any key has a scale, and most chords are comprised of the root (the first 1st note in the scale) the 3rd note, and the 5th note. You can add or take away extra notes to make it ✨sparklier✨.

So she’s harmonising on the 3rd and the 5th, and her harmonies are mostly moving in parallel motion (in the same way) with the melody. This gives a clean, sweet, consonant feel. (Consonant= not dissonant. Dissonant= “smushy”)

Most of the melody is conjunct (moving in steps- no big leaps) and also descending, like you’re falling down in steps with her. Then, at the end of each line rising back up again.

Except for “Deep down” which is disjunct (big leap), moving downwards. You are plunging into the depths.

This has a chilling simplicity to it. And the fact that it’s repeated over and over and over again makes it almost sickening. I love it.

What I love about this is the duality of simple, beautiful elements, and dark, haunting elements.

So! You have the combination of:

The main vocal melody being sung by a natural voice- imo showing how Scylla was once a beautiful nymph

The harmonies being sung by a pitch-shifted voice, giving it a strange, creepy, artificial, “mythical” sound to it- as established by the other uses of electronic instruments in Epic to show myth

Consonant harmonising on the notes of the chord, which is something we are trained to hear in music and feels very “right” and “natural”

The parallel motion of the harmonies, which give a simple feeling- you’re not being sent out in loads of directions. You’re falling down with her.

The descending nature of the melody taking you “deep down”, then rising back up.

The continuous repetition of this simple melody line

The fact that it’s sung in a minor (sad) key

Ultimately these two factors create a stark contrast- a juxtaposition- which creates a super cool and bone-chilling effect. The only thing I can relate it to is something akin to a creepy children’s nursery rhyme from a horror movie. It’s unlike any other song in Epic just because of how twisted it feels. This beautiful, creepy song being played as you hear Ody’s men screaming as she slaughters them

(While we’re on the topic of the screams, in music production there is this thing called “panning” which (if you’re listening in stereo and not mono) controls how much to the left or right the sound is coming from. This is why I love to listen to Epic, specifically this song, on headphones, because you can hear the men being gruesomely killed all around you.)

Also “Drown in your sorrow and fears/choke on your blood and your tears/bleed ‘til you’ve run out of years” is just a mood and a half (there’s a whole other post I could write for the literary analytics of the lyrics- how she uses imperative verbs. It’s a command. It’s an instruction.)

And so when Odysseus joins in with Scylla singing “We are the same you and I…” it really hits home just how much of a monster he’s become- how unfeeling he was when he sacrificed his men. This is so subtle but in my opinion it’s what really turns him. Jorge is using all of these contrasting techniques to make Scylla seem horrific and creepy as fuck, and Ody is empathising with her. He is relating to her. I just… *shivers* wow.

[broodwoof]

also the last post made me realize i haven't shared the bulk of my arlathan cultural headcanons

i actually have a doc with a big list of things which i'll include, but first i will specify that, at its heart, i view arlathan as a artificially organic structure. much like the evanuris!

they are immortal, as are the elvhen. death does not touch them. very possibly disease does not, either, and certainly not rot. their bodies are built, designed, artificial yet entirely real, spirits now with blood pumping in their veins, with a heartbeat, with breath, with the feeling of cold or warm air on their skin...

because of all this, i think there is a cultural fascination with the organic, the biological, and those particular parts of it that they have no access to - death, disease, and rot. and very importantly, i see none of this as being grim or disturbing, either to the evanuris or the elvhen. it might eventually become disturbing to the elvhen as slavery begins or escalates, as slaves are "spent" in the creation of things, but it is not something that immortal beings have an inherent or instinctual aversion to. there is instead a deep academic fascination with anatomy, with death, with biology, with organic compositions

(btw, as with all my headcanon stuff, u have full permission to take this and run with it without crediting me!!!! u don't even NEED permission i don't feel, but i am explicitly giving it)

also i'm not a big pinterest user in general but working through my ideas for arlathan, it did help a lot. just bugs me that there is sm inevitable theft on that site... :/ but, nonetheless, i will include the link to my pinterest board for arlathan, with the BIG IMPORTANT NOTE!!! that a lot of it is explicitly anatomical, some with violent connotations, and that it might be disturbing. with that in mind... link

low pools with grand columns rising from them

perfectly round ponds, outlined with dense and perfect planting, always in bloom, an artifice of nature

winding staircases which provide glorious views

vines winding through railings, but never dropping leaves or dead flowers

buildings arranged to take advantage of light, where certain times of day create elaborate patterns of filtered light

surreal beauty

colors like an oil slick

curves everywhere, the predominant shape is of curves and circles

everything is so high... tall towers, and great, open structures where u can stare up and see all the floors above

a fascination with death, disease, rot - these things that do not touch the evanuris or the elvhen

skeletal depictions

huge, beautiful murals that show skeletons and rot but are surrounded by this almost ethereal beauty, all gold and gilt and vivid unreal colors that flow together so that every single piece is a piece of art unto itself

an entire building could be a skeleton. a ribcage making up the main room, its arms supporting each side, almost cradling the structure

[lordandgodoftheobvious]

Centaurs from three settings

Actually four, but the middle two are similar enough (in how their monster folk work, at least) to be rolled into the same section.

Part 1: Natural centaurs

The setting (expounded upon in detail in a previous thread) is one of those urban fantasy settings that, in TVTropes terms, Never Was This Universe, something which is readily apparent from the beginning on account of the Earth being fucking flat in it. In point of fact, the Earth has been transposed--not literally, since it's always been there in this universe--onto the surface of an Alderson disk, only unlike in the traditional design where most of the surface area is unusable the surface is being lit by reflectors above the disk rather than directly by the central star, allowing a consistent climate throughout--or rather, as is actually the case, concentric repeating bands of climate (hence places like Argentina and South Africa and New Zealand having their proper climate in spite of being south of the equator--or rather, places like Eurasia and North America having theirs, as I arbitrarily decided that north was towards the center). And because it amused me to create this nakedly artificial world and fill it with fantasy creatures and then pull this move, there is no actual "magic" in the setting; even the substance of the disk itself is hypothesized by Einstein to be frozen spacetime (a la the stasis field from Larry Niven's Known Space series).

A major hurdle to natural centaurs is the fact that they have six limbs, which is probably impossible for the tetrapod lineage to develop, as evidenced by the fact that no tetrapod ever has. Typically when one wants to have six-limbed beasts (and I have a plethora of them in this world: griffins, dragons, definitely-not-green-Martians...) one is thus forced to imagine a second lineage of vertebrate life that starts out with six limbs and is otherwise convergent with our own. It would be quite contrived for me to have six-limbed animals that just happen to be convergent with mammals, with birds, with crocodilians, and so on all over the place--but I have a workaround for this problem.

Simply put: all life on the disk is, technically speaking, just a ridiculously convergent alien (down to having the English language and their own London and everything) anyway--so what do I need two lineages of terrestrial vertebrates for? Why not just make the six-limbed lineage the lineage, and have it lose limbs--something which our lineage very much can do--every time I need an animal to have four limbs? This will of course end up being most of them, but that's an evolutionary pattern with a simple explanation: four limbs and six each have advantages, but once an animal has adapted to having four limbs it cannot go back to having six--it's an evolutionary one-way door.

Under this schema I can have six-limbed animals basically wherever I want them to be in the evolutionary family tree, with the "cost" that this makes all of their ancestors also six-limbed. Without this schema it never would have occurred to me to ask whether or not I should make sauropods hexapods, but since I made griffins and their relatives birds (actually in a polytomy with "true aves" (i.e. birds that actually currently exist in the real world) and "cockatrices" (i.e. basal dromaeosaurs), but same dif) now I must ask that question of every lineage of dinosaur that branches off of that line. And that, you see, is the beauty of worldbuilding--it forces you to think about details you never would have thought of.

I imagine centaurs evolving from a catlike predator that adapts its forelimbs for grasping and its rear and midlimbs for running. A pivot point develops near the midlimbs to allow it to lunge with its thoracic section. Ribs are reduced, replaced with a cartilaginous "girdle" in the lower section for greater flexibility (which, coincidentally, makes the centaur chest more closely resemble a human torso). I also made a big deal about them having an improved, bird-like respiration system in the thread, but I don't know how necessary that actually is. Somewhere in Hyperborea a proto-centaur smashes a bone open with a stone, and just like what happened when a bipedal ape did the same thing in Africa the access to bone marrow this unlocked created a whole new set of evolutionary pressures--better hands for holding rocks, leading to better tools, leading to bigger brains to build more sophisticated tools with, and, somewhere along the line, language, as it makes teaching so much easier.

We can get most of the way to a centaur like this--perhaps even as far as losing the hair on their thoracic segments--but not all the way. Even starting with a mammal with as human-like a face as any non-primate is ever likely to have, there's only so far we can get with convergence--for the rest, we need mimicry.

Thus the phenomenon in-universe scientists refer to as the Anthropophilic Mimicry Sprachbund. A "sprachbund" is a term borrowed from linguistics, where it describes how languages in close cultural proximity to one another will evolve in ways that bring them closer together (e.g. German and French, or Nahuatl and Mayan). The AMS--which connects not just humans and centaurs but many other species--is simple in concept. Obligate sophonts such as humans and centaurs (and mermaids and sirens and lamia and...) are social, empathetic creatures--and the more like them you look, the more likely you will be to be able to take advantage of that empathy when you need it. The better you are at being able to read their social cues, the better you will be at working together with them if need be. Thus, much like multiple kinds of poisonous insect converging on the same aposematic coloring because it makes it easier for predators to learn what to avoid, multiple obligate sophonts converged on human-like features.

("Obligate sophont" is a term I've heard proposed in the real world to distinguish us from things like corvids and dolphins and such as the lines between us we thought so solid get blurrier the more we focus on them--basically, they may have culture (depending on how you define your terms), but we need culture in order to survive. Hence, obligate. Whatever its merits IRL, it'll be very useful in this setting.)

Oh and by the way, in the time between the latest entry in the thread from the first link and now, I have learned from one of my favorite paleontology podcasts that certain groups of placoderms did have six limbs (technically), so yeah, fertile ground for an alternative origin of osteichthyans in this universe.

[shelandsorcery]

What I've Learned About Teaching Art

I've had the privilege of teaching art in a variety of environments - from still life oil painting at the college level, to combining art with science and history in a museum setting, to guiding highschool students through creating a comics anthology. Through these very different settings, I've found a list of constants that, when I keep them in mind, help me deliver the most enjoyable and effective art education for my students. One of my core beliefs is that art is, at the heart of it all, something a student must teach themself, and that a classroom, workshop, or camp that wants to teach art is actually responsible for creating an environment and offering projects that facilitate that self-driven learning. With that on the table, here is the pantheon of truths that, if I can hold on to all of them, help me create that learning environment:

- Almost no one is inherently unable to draw. Additionally, everyone can improve at drawing. With the wealth of "traditional" media, digital tools, and thousands upon thousands of years of art history with which we can map the possibility space, it seems obvious that if someone wants to make art, then they absolutely can.  If they want to draw, then no teacher should ever, EVER tell a student that they "can't." The teacher's role is usually to take a student who already secretly believes they can't draw and help them see both the breadth of possibilities and the potential within themselves to improve whatever skills they start with. - Drawing is not always about making a beautiful image. The obsession with one kind of "good drawing" creates an artificial limit on who is allowed to draw. Sometimes being an art teacher is about expanding a student's definition of art as opposed to pushing their frustrated and dejected pencil along a path towards a narrow goal. The reality is that even within pop culture we see so many gorgeous kinds of art! Beyond that, aiming superficially as an artist for a particular surface result will almost always create lesser work than creating an understand of underlying processes and theories that helped the "good art" come into existence. - Drawing can teach new ways of seeing. Observing with the intent of drawing can transform how a person perceives the world. So much of teaching art is teaching visual literacy, the literal act of reading meaning within visual input, whether that's a still image, a film, a building or a natural landscape. When you motivate students to read visuals by providing them with new ways to understand creating visuals, you jump start their investment in visual literacy. - Drawing can help us think about things differently. Thinking can shift along with modes of seeing - what is a structural way of thought? What is a compositional way of thought? When you teach art, you must teach a student to look at things holistically and in granular elements - besides just enhancing thought processes moving between the two states, you can get much more discovery in the analytical and planning modes of appreciating and creating artwork. - Drawing from reference is as educational as reading. Learning to examine visual reference closely creates a new kind of literacy - visual literacy. Drawing from reference, especially with guided or motivated questions to be answered, can create an opportunity for modes of analysis that students don't get to otherwise use. Developing visual observation and creating a practice of looking both closely and holistically can create a layered understanding of the subject. Even students resistant to traditional still life drawing processes can find benefit in using drawing to answer self-guided questions. - Learning by making art is a valid mode of learning. Making art can be a mode of learning that both alternates between input and output and creates a sense of ownership/agency in both modes. The hands on creative process is a kind of guess and check system that can be designed carefully to allow students to make a wide variety of types of decisions, and teaches them to create goals and investigate what processes will best allow them to achieve said goals. - Competition with each other or with some imagined ideal will deflate artistic potential. An art classroom cannot have winners and losers based on "quality" of final piece. Art education will benefit more students if it is process oriented. Quality, even in straightforward skills based art education, can still be subjective, and unless it's an aggressive battle Royale for some exclusive prize, the intent of any art programming is not to find the single best but to encourage each student to improve. So don't be a dick about it. - Art is a product of restraints. Material, process, time, subject or conceptual restraints allow for a kind of focused play. Giving students free reign is in itself a huge challenge of self direction, goal setting and prioritization. Making some of those choices for them gives them a chance to focus their own learning. - Materials change the kind of engagement. Diverse materials allow for diverse engagement. Just as subject matter can affect a student's personal investment in a project, the material or method of art making can change their engagement. Changing between drawing and painting, reductive or additive sculpting, stenciling or stamping, will not only change the tactile experience of art making but will affect the modes of thought used to make creative choices. - Venue or audience transform art. Pressure to show, and to whom, can change students self imposed limitations. Defining an audience will change and add pressure to art creation. This can help students hold themselves to a higher standard, but can also frighten or overwhelm them. Audience needs can be a useful limit or influence on the direction of an art project, but audience pressure needs to be modulated to the response of each student. - Art is most interesting when it leaves the comfort zone of its creator. This can only happen in a classroom where students feel safe to take risks. Art, even when the subject matter is utterly anonymous or benign, can be a hugely risky-feeling process. Even the act of making art in a classroom environment can feel frightening; if we want students to fully engage, and to take the artistic risks that allow them to learn, we have to spend class time making the classroom into a safe space for the students. This probably needs to be it's own post so I'll leave it there for now and come back and expand upon it in detail in future. - Subject engagement transforms art. Students with something to say about their subject may push themselves farther. Caring about the subject can be a blessing or a curse for a student - deep subject investment can drive problem solving around how best to present it in the artwork, while deep subject investment can also overwhelm a student with self imposed pressure and even a large dose of imposter syndrome. Therefore it can always be useful to intersperse self selected subject matter with "boring" or at least not emotionally significant subjects, to relieve some of the pressure and allow students to instead respond to the process alone. - Ownership of a process will empower students. Whether they've designed a process, built their own materials or set their own goals, agency gives students investment. One of the most exciting things about art is that students have a lot of potential control and thus ownership - they will always be making choices, and those choices are potentially exciting because they directly affect the outcome. You can increase this sense of ownership or investment in the class by facilitating student-made materials, like sketchbooks or mark-making tools; or by facilitating student-led exercises or challenges or projects. - Demos will guide what others make and must be done carefully. Demoing can empower and at the same time overwhelm or impose limits on the viewers. Demoing must be designed to specific goals of each assignment. Eg: if you want students to use surgical techniques to explore value, or depth, or composition, whole you absolutely have to demo the technique didactically, you need to be careful not to be didactic about the results you want in relationship to the subject of exploration. Showing a wide range of potential approaches can help in classrooms where students can handle large info dumps, but often it's better to demo the technique, get them trying it out without further instruction, and then redirect then to the topic of exploration as stage 2. - Material potential can power a room. Art supplies can be motivating all on their own. Getting excited about them can make it safe for the students to get excited as well. There are many different supplies available to teach art with, and trying different ones can add a lot of excitement to the room even if your topic of instruction is narrow. Getting excited about materials can change the mood of a classroom entirely. - Criticism must engage with the student's goals or it will work against you. Setting goals, and then reflecting on them, is key to art education as so much of art is self directed. If you then ignore that setup and approach critique without listening to your students' internal direction and goals and at minimum acknowledging them, they will not find your critique constructive. This goes for young children all the way to adults - you need to be in dialogue with them. - Open discussion and open ended questions will always help. Once you've found a way to make the classroom a safe space, group discussion powered by open ended questions can open everyone's mind up to broader possibilities. One on one conversation also benefits hugely from open ended questions and encouraging students to reflect and investigate their own process and practice. - Letting students share their learning is important to help the class grow beyond your own limited experiences. Students will often still feel in competition with each other, so instituting non-competitive collaboration and sharing will be important to minimizing classroom tension. This can be demonstrated first with art games and developed into collaborative processes on more serious projects. - You can never clarify the instructions enough. Always repeat yourself, be prepared to repeat demos, have a written list of instructions and delegate helpers. Breaking projects up into stages can help with detailed instructions, but always show an overview first. Art is overwhelming and there is no process so simple everyone is automatically good at it. Accurate following of a process will often help students who are unsure of themselves prove themselves to be competent and your job as the teacher is to make sure they have everything they need to do that. - Techniques are best remembered when students use them to solve specific problems. Show how applicable to different problems a technique is during demos. Be prepared to reteach or to teach new techniques whenever students hit a wall. Encourage them to reflect over the techniques they have at hand to see if there's a new way to use one that could solve their problem. - Art is mostly learned by doing. Material literacy is gained only through material exploration. If you spend too much time talking/demoing before they get to try the materials the enthusiasm can fade. If you have a student who is frightened of doing it wrong, the most important thing is to make a safe space for them to do it wrong, because that's the only way to eventually do it right. These are all best case scenario tips - and while I've tested them all to know they work, it's still hard work to keep everything in play in every classroom. I'm hopeful that having this written list will help me, and maybe by sharing I can help others as well. Art is a privilege to teach, but I believe it is incredibly important for everyone to get to learn it, in a safe environment where the effects of an art practice can be the most beneficial. Are you teaching a creative subject? What are some techniques or core values you bring to your classroom? Read the full article

[literaryvein-reblogs]

anything on cruise ships? how it looks what's inside stuff like that?

This is a great resource: Ship Deck Plans

Just choose which cruise ship appeals to you. For example, I chose one at random, Radiance of the Seas:

You can then select which deck you want to view. Or you can click the "ship brochure", which gives you a description and more details on the exterior and interior:

Here's a sample brochure:

Other similar resources for cruise ship designs: 1 2 3

The Psychology of Cruise Ship Interior Design

Cruise design studios are experts in manipulating the guest’s emotions to ensure the best experience possible while travelling.

The core principles of design include balance, proportion, symmetry, and rhythm.

Executing each one successfully brings harmony to a space and can help to improve an interior’s emotional quality.

But through which methods are these achieved? Space, color, light, and texture all come together to form a cohesive work of interior design. But each aspect has its own variables that could alter a guest’s mood.

Space

Given the increasing number of guests sailing and the limited amount of space, designers must work to maximise each area of the room while maintaining a delicate balance and connection between each object featured.

On cruise ships, it’s important that spaces not only serve the purpose of creating a cohesive interior but also contribute towards effective passenger flow.

Color

White spaces induce a feeling of cleanliness and freshness. However, too much white could leave a room feeling sterile and clinical. Best featured: In small rooms you want to make feel larger.

Red is the color of love and passion, but did you know it can also boost metabolism and blood pressure? Best featured: As an accent color in restaurants and bars.

Pink evokes happiness and peace and is a calming tone. Considered a factor in appetite suppression, avoid pink when designing dining spaces. Best featured: In public spaces and children’s areas.

A well-loved color in the cruise industry, blue is one of the most versatile colors available. Light blues tend to encourage a sense of calm but be wary of dark blues which might make your guests feel gloomy. Best featured: In suites and spas.

Long ago purple was the color associated with royalty, and even now it contributes to feelings of luxury, creativity, and wealth. Bold colors like purple should be avoided in high quantities as, similarly to dark blue, it could leave your guests feeling down in the dumps. Best featured: In entertainment spaces.

“There are psychological elements you can use to help people leave [or stay in] a space.”

Light

Bold, bright, and beautiful or light, airy, and spacious: natural or artificial, lighting allows designers to foster the ideal setting for cruise guests.

Generally, designers favour natural light as it can boost feelings of happiness, as well as making spaces feel larger.

To create stunning light-filled spaces, designers can utilise glass panelling, something which isn’t always an option given the stringent weight restrictions on cruise ships.

While dim lighting can create a sense of gloominess, it can also help foster a cosy environment and encourage guests to stay put, (which is why you’re most likely to find it in spas, bars, and restaurants).

Meanwhile, bright lighting encourages movement, so will be found more frequently in fitness centres, lifts, and corridors.

Texture

While soft and silky textures can encourage intimacy and romance, raw, rugged textures contribute to organic, natural-looking interiors, in line with the trend of bringing the outdoors in.

Balance is key, especially when it comes to layering multiple textures.

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References