#which I relate heavily to lol

[mossypidder]

I have more reasons but I don’t have the energy to write them right now.

But yeah, I’ve been thinking about what I’d be if I were in Faas and Enya’s universe and I thought I’d be a changeling as well for a while for many reasons, but upon further consideration I think I was wrong. So here’s the first concept art for a my avian persona.

As for the songs (which was one of the main influences on why I started thinking about avians because I realized that over the last six months the majority of songs I’ve been obsessed with have bird centric undertones at the very least) you can find them here

[lemedstudent2021]

red geranium

rest in peace queen ur death will always be iconic to me. squint pls i cant art under stress.

[akkivee]

despite not quite sharing the same pink-gold-dark palette that otome and ichijiku’s speakers have, i think it’s kiiiiinda crazy kuukou and jyushi’s speakers match theirs in style better than nemu’s lol

[phantastragoria]

do you have a favourite portrayal of a character in the gotg game!! who is it and why <3

Oh I think they're all great honestly!!! Part of why I love the game so much is that genuinely, the whole team + supporting characters are written with such obvious love of the source material and equal attention between them all. When I see comments of people saying who their favorite character was from the game and the answer always being different from each person I'm like!! That's how it SHOULD be!!! They're the Guardians of the Galaxy (plural) the focus shouldn't all fall on a singular character like most other GotG media usually ends up as 😭

The two (sorry I can't pick just one) whom I think benefit the most from the game though are Drax and Gamora because they're almost always sidelined both in-and-out of universe by most of the various writers (especially as of late) and in turn the viewers/readers. I've been told plenty of times that they're the most boring members of the "main" team, BUT IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE THAT WAY! The amount of love the game versions get (by the few who've played it at least) proves that 🥺

I've never really liked 616 Drax shifting to being a complete clown during the 90s and such (and even less so when the MCU followed along 💀) So I appreciate the game taking a bit of his seriousness from the DnA run and just making him struggle with nuance and context clues in a less exaggerated way (autistic Drax I still believe in u) and I feel the focus put on him and how losing his original family + the aftermath deeply affected him hits pretty hard here because it's treated very seriously and shown in depth, especially with how his family (wife) gets actual focus. I cannot tell you anything about Yvette in comparison to Hovat, who actually seemed to have had a personality lol (AND she was on their village's council like omg imagine having more to you than just being The Housewife) Though I will say I flip and flop on my thoughts about Heather being disconnected from Drax's life in this universe... The TLDR is that I think his arc here specifically works stronger when he has to come to terms with losing his entire family and accepting the life he currently has with the Guardians. BUT!!! I very much appreciate that Heather is still confirmed to exist within this universe, even if that means her dad issues would have to be dealt with in a different context if we ever get to see her.

Also? Shoutout to the writers actually bringing up the intense paranoia that always kneecapped 616 Drax but having that be a turning point in his backstory here, with that conversation he has with Peter where he talks about how he was becoming so paranoid of everyone being a chitauri/Thanos conspirator to the point of literally turning into an obsessed maniac like Thanos, and realizing that he desperately needed to turn his life around, it's so ough.

Out of the already many great conversations throughout the game, I think the ones with him are the most poignant. My favorite scene in the whole game is Drax and Pete's little moment on Knowhere... makes me go wahhh

(l also love that out of everyone on the team, it's his headspace that we quite literally get to go into. You KNOW that if this was any other media it'd be going into Rocket or Groot's head and likely treated as a joke.)

And oh my god, Gamora...

I find it so extremely refreshing that her role in the plot doesn't revolve purely around the men in her life, and instead, it's nearly exclusively her connection with other women. Or in the most direct obstacle she has to deal with, being how she starts projecting to the millionth degree on Nikki's situation for reminding her of what happened to her and Nebula. I find that infinitely more fascinating as a reading of her character rather than just dating drama or her arc getting completely overtaken by a man's instead.

And especially in her friendship with Mantis, who, despite having all these futures she's constantly seeing and having to navigate, still makes time to do her best to help her 🥺 From saving her life and being the one who put her on the path to healing on Lamentis, to getting her to join the Guardians and still checking in on her when she's able 😭 Friendship between women can be so powerful... u love to see it (🏳️‍🌈)

I also find it nice that there's this emphasis on her recovering mentally, and the comparison between Thanos essentially teaching her to just Deal with the shit in her life through very simplistic meditation versus the priests of Pama actually teaching her something to help soothe the mind :^( and that she still has moments of relapsing essentially. I find that to be a realistic take on recovery because that's just part of the journey since healing is not linear... and I think it's very sweet that she finds comfort in collecting something ---girly--- like dolls. Love to see a person reclaim a part of their childhood that they weren't allowed to experience. And how she's allowed to make BAD JOKES?? Imagine a woman being written to have multiple dimensions, crazy and absolutely unthinkable, I know.

There's this extremely specific theme in relation to Gamora across media that's been rattling around in my brain since first playing the game. When near the end during the revisit to Knowhere, she's about to completely lose it when Peter tries talking -for- her on what she's so upset about before immediately shooting him down, and she explains what happened between her and Nebula and she starts crying. It really struck me right then that she's never given a moment to cry elsewhere (or in the 616's case, the quite literal inability to.) aside from her shedding a Single Manly Tear (Original Sin) or a single moment out of legit fear (MCU 💀) because she's a hashtag Strong Independant Woman who can't be vulnerable etc etc. But for her to cry in front of the people she's come to care about, It gives her a moment of true vulnerability that I don't think she's allowed ever in most other media.

That and all of the above hits hard and is what makes me genuinely believe that the writers cared about her in the narrative and tried to do right by her when every other bit of media really hasn't nor cared to the majority of the time since the 90s :'^/ Brings a tear to my eye that she's allowed to just... exist in the narrative on her own merits and not on what she can provide to someone else's story.

[arolesbianism]

Me sitting and watching any oni discussion waiting for an excuse to bring up a seed is planted all like 🤓👉👈

[djotime-allthetime]

hi!!! im back 😎✌🏼 i was thinking about y/n again (she literally hasnt left my mind yet) and was wondering if you've had a particular person in mind when writing her either in personality or in appearance? in my head she looks a bit like sydney sweeney, but more european or scandi if that makes sense?

also what accent do you imagine y/n as having, cos i imagined her speaking at the panel a london accent (like me!!!), but i am curious to see how you picture y/n in your mind!!!

👋🏼

hello my love!!

to be completely frank with you,,, y/n is me and i am y/n sooooo she is a short middle eastern girl with long hair and she has an international school accent lol

but! that's the beauty of self inserts! you can imagine her as whatever your heart desires!

[bluejulius]

Howdy Train Your Dragon??

HEAVILY INSPIRED from @tragisbawls western AU and also I believe that one “Howdy Train Your Dragon” post by @wardenofdragons

please let me know if I’ve made any mistakes in crediting but these guy’s posts were my main inspiration fr

enjoy some WIPs, currently I’m making them for reference so I can draw the gang doing some scenes

might have gone a bit insane over the festive season and fallen head first into this western AU. basically everything is the same but instead of Vikings it’s cowboys! I’m gonna colour these all and want to do more art/drawings of this too bc it has been occupying my thoughts lol

more info 👇

- set in a fictional Old West, similar to how the canon treats Viking lore and accuracy, assume this is the same 😂

- in this AU, Hiccup loses his leg before he meets Toothless in some sort of stampede/horse-related accident, which makes Stoic, the cheif of the town, more protective of him/not want him to go near them

- Hiccup finds Toothless as a wild mustang, trapped in a gorge. Hijinx ensue, Hiccup saves him, and they bond.

-Hiccup and Fishlegs live in the same town. Astrid, Lout, Ruff and Tuff are part of a group of travelling cowboys from out of town or somethin lol. Something happens and Legs and Hic have to travel with them for a bit. Haven’t worked everything out yet but if people have ideas feel free to let me know!

- Ruff and Tuff are in charge of the supplies wagon and they often confuse Barf & Belch with their arguing. The poor horses go in different directions or one of them might stop while the other keeps going 😭

- Meatlug is usually seen pulling a little wagon with extra supplies/Fishlegs rides in the wagon sometimes when they go on adventures so she ends up being the slowest in the group, similar to how she is the slowest of the gang’s dragons

- Hookfang is an Arabian horse and he has a really firey temper and has a similar relationship to Snotlout as in the canon. Snotlout made Hookfang rear up on his hind legs once, but Snotlout fell off and Hookfang left him in the dust 💀

- Astrid is the leader of the cowboys. Stormfly has little braids in her mane as that’s Astrid’s way of showing affection.

(alsomyaskboxisopenifanyonewantstodiscusthisauI AM HAPPY TO YAP-)

[probablyaseamonster]

getting serious Fionna and Cake flashbacks from that Sozonius comic ngl

Introducing Follower gang!

There. Finally did all the Bishops follower designs!

The 7 deadly sins

And some other follower gang, done with lineart this time because the other 2 pieces made me lose my soul for how long they took.

(Also a small HC if I may: Dr. Sozonius is trapped inside the mushroom on Sozos head, while the actual mushroom is controlling his body)

+ some more doodles

Info about the 7 Sins and more doodles below:

Jeg represents Greed - he was one of the first of Lamb's followers. (At first, it was very difficult for Lambert to indoctrinate people, due to their inexperience, this guy was like the 5th or so) Jeg has...a very specific personality to say the least, yet the Lamb can't help but be fond of him. They eventually nominate him the Tax enforcer role and...That might've been the worst decision of their life. But they did not take the role away. Jeg acts smug 24/7 and relishes in his new power, but deep down, dudes pretty insecure, ( but don't tell anyone!) He used to have a huge crush on the lamb, but then Narinder and eventually the other bishops came, and since their leader was for some reason head over heels for the ex god of death, Jeg grew bitter and often got into fights with Nari, as well as charging him and his other siblings more than the average follower. Though he's mostly mellowed out since then.

Brash represents Gluttony They despise Helob, since they used to fight for "food" a lot, and eventually Brash got really injured and was found by the Lamb. She tried to eat them, but was quickly disarmed. Despite this, they decided to spare him and bring his sorry ass back to the cult to indoctrinate. They were very cunning and didn't trust the lamb either, but eventually they cooled off and accepted the new life. She still eats people tho, just not from the cult, otherwise jail or *worse*

Yara represents Pride She is one of the core followers. She's very strict and somewhat self-centered, she likes things done her way, or if not her way, the lambs way. Period. No one else can boss her around or even give a helpful advice. She's actually a pretty stand up deer, and despite being incredibly stubborn still makes a good friend. She gets along with most people though Brash annoys her, since he keeps snatching body parts off corpses. She has always been extremely devoted to the lamb and will be annoyed if any follower dissents and tries to preach against them. She wasn't surprised in the slightest when they eventually took down all the bishops.

Thorn represents Envy He had a pretty terrible life before the cult. When he was brought in, she was bitter about her newfound situation. He wasn't very trusting of the lamb and thought they expected something out of her (which technically they did, but it's just work). He envies the fools who are so oblivious and just do everything as they're told and let their lives be guided by some amateur god. Similar to the other two, he puts on a mask, He often acts overly saccharine to hide his true feelings, but doesn't have any bad intentions. (Most of the time) She does genuinely like some people, but others, he only pretends to like to appease the lamb or to blackmail them. He hates when the people he actually cares about are threatened.

Jermo represents Wrath Jermo absolutely does not trust anyone. Similar to Thorn, and most other followers tbh, their life was absolutely horrible prior to the cult. They trusted some people, they got betrayed, and almost died several times because of it. It was extremely difficult for the lamb to make them stop dissenting. They legit had to give them the loyalty necklace in order for them to finally stop dissenting. Jermo keeps getting into fights with other followers, because they feel as though everyone is always against them or is constantly judging them. (They're technically not wrong) They've died 5 times, because they keep getting into fights with other followers. Lamb strongly considered keeping them dead, but decided to challenge themself with them (also they're too cuddly to just be killed off) Despite their many, *many* flaws, Thorn has a huge crush on them, since he's one of the people who managed to see their soft side. Jermo, deep, deep, deep down actually cares a lot, but they've been hurt too much by everyone, so they retaliate for the same stuff to not repeat.

Herett represents Lust At some point, she passingly heard about the cult and since it seemed like a peaceful place from the rumors (and also had hot people in it) she eagerly joined in. She's usually in the kitchen area, if not hanging around the love tent or babysitting some kids. She crushes on almost everyone, but for some reason she hates Kallamar (legit in my actual game she rejected him so hard, despite having the lustful trait and not caring prior)

Mateo represents Sloth Is perhaps the 1st or 2nd of Lambs followers, so they're absolutely not letting go of him, dudes lived 4 long lives and is tired of it, he keeps switching jobs since with age he's been slacking off more. He's currently stuck as a janitor (he hates it) He's also one of the few people who managed to befriend Jermo, his mellow, don't care attitude is somewhat comforting to them. Aside that, he gets along with almost everyone, as best as he can at least.

Not much else to say about the gang in the third pic but Riley and Dannie are platonic bffs and were forced to babysit kids when the lamb was crusading. The lamb was a little incompetent here to give carnivores children to take care of, but thankfully they actually managed to be good with them and got used to being on nanny duty.

The capybara (Beige) is a retired teacher and adopted a little owlet to take care of (Chip)

While Femur is our below yellow cat, and that's my HC name for him. He's a gatherer here.

[torawro]

royal knight!caleb & princess!reader.

cw ━━ ! minors, ageless, and blank blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is written / portrayed as a curvy, thick black woman but you do not have to imagine it that way ! anyone and everyone is welcome to read <3. historical / medieval au so there will be use of language & rhetoric relative to that era ( i.e., aye = yes or indeed . . . . i did my best doing research ). caleb is a high ranking knight in the kingdom they live in and is referred to as 'sir' because of his status. reader is a princess of royal status. mentions / descriptions of blood and injuries, and contains violence sprinkled with a little bit of gore (???). depictions of murder / character death. a liiittleeee bit of religious imagery & references, not sure but adding it just in case. hints at caleb having psychological issues and / or mental instability. kind of yandere(ish) behavior if you squint; caleb is obsessed with & in love with the reader. he is also a wee bit condescending ( not to reader ). instances of caressing ( groping? ) and slow, sweet kisses. veryyy subtle manipulation (?) via intentional omission of the truth. sorry if im exaggerating with these tags lol. directly based off this post i saw a few weeks ago. i tried my best to proofread at 1am pls excuse any errors. let me know if i missed anything!

word count ━━ ! 3.9k

notes ━━ ! man…..🚬🚬🚬 i can’t believe i wrote this lmaaaoooooooooo like what. where did this come from even.....anyway hi everyone i’m back with another (short-ish) fic <3 my apologies it's been another two months since my last published work, you know what it is: it takes longer for me to put things out and i wanna make sure i put my best foot forward every time >< but whoop whoop here's to my second fic of the year! as u can see i have gotten into lads during this past month and some change....... and i swear, i really had no intention of writing for any of the guys any time soon, let alone the newest one..... i took a pause from working on my longer projects to write this LMFAOOOO. i honestly thought that if i really did have a burning desire to write about them, my first lads fic would have been about sylus cause he.....anyway i won't go on a tangent about him, but i sincerely hope u guys enjoy this one!!!!!! obviously this is my first time writing for any lads character so pls be kind to me. i also want to apologize if this characterization of caleb is weird or ooc, i haven't unlocked him yet but i have seen a lot of content of his story in relation to the mc, his lore, his voicelines, etc so i hope i did him justice!! reblogs + commentary are HEAVILY appreciated ♡♡♡.

THE SKY REMAINED DARK, BUT a deep navy hue began to seep into the heavens, soon giving way to the dawn; the early hours of the morning was nigh. The castle was silent— obviously, but still eerily so despite the hour. There was a draft that seeped through the miscellaneous cracks of the stone, the shutters, and the windows of the castle that had not been properly shut, and the brisk breeze that flowed inside caressed the walls with a whisper— quiet but forceful enough to sway the small flames of the candles. The unsteady flickering of the flames grazed and dimly illuminated the walls behind them. Upon its surface were fresh stains, which would permanently seep into the stone if not cleaned in time. The stains were red.

It was blood.

In the many corridors of the castle was a figure, trudging through the halls like a corpse that had risen from its resting place, exhaustion weighing down his every step down to the marrow of his bones. He was injured— not gravely enough to make him lose consciousness but enough to reopen the wounds he so haphazardly patched himself before returning to the kingdom.

His chambers in the keep, along with all the other higher-ranked Knights, was on the other side of the castle grounds. He should have made a left the moment the portcullis closed behind his heels so he could at least get patched up again, get some water, and something else for the pain. Instead, the soldier walked straight ahead, onward to the main structure of the castle, down the stretches of its veins, up the stairs– a path he had memorized after spending many a moon traversing it, sometimes without your knowledge.

But he needed to see you, and he was unsure if he would be able to wait until the sun’s ascension in just a few hours time to do so.

The knight was tired, and that slowed him down, but eventually he made it to your private quarters. He made sure to quiet his labored breathing and footsteps as much as he could; the king would have his head before he even made it to your chambers if he were to be discovered.

You laid underneath a thick blanket, the warmth of the fur against your clothed skin protecting you against the brisk cold. As comfortable as you were, however, tonight you had trouble staying asleep. It would greet you kindly, only to slip away from your embrace if you held it too tightly. Your eyelids were half-open, finally on the verge of drifting close again, when an abrupt but muffled thumping noise resounded on the wood of your door.

The sound caused your eyes to snap open with alertness, any waves of sleep that were about to wash over you retreated at the sound. You laid still, absently wondering if you were hearing things, but the noise reverberated in the air again, then three times— it was soft, as if the source of the sound was being careful not to be too loud.

As the sleepiness of the late hours continued to melt away, you began to remember what day it was, and your pulse quickened as a result.

He should have returned today, you thought. But could it be? It cannot possibly…

And yet, that possibility is what tugged your body forward to sit up and straight, and slide your legs out from underneath the layers of blankets. That possibility is what led you to slide your bare feet into your slippers, and move to swing the long, woolen robe on top of your nightgown. That possibility is what pulled you to the thick door of your chambers, and opened it by an inch to peek through the cracks.

The relief and subdued elation you felt when you saw the familiar features of Sir Caleb’s visage on the other side washed over you.

But that feeling faded as quickly as it came when you noticed the state Sir Caleb was in. While it wasn’t abnormal for him to have a deep scratch or a bruise somewhere, he looked . . . worse, somehow. And whatever it was seemed to reach deeper than just his physical injuries.

Without exchanging any words or outwardly questioning him, you carefully— for he winced at nearly every graze of your fingers on certain areas— led him into your room, allowing him to use your body as a crutch. Caleb let out strained puffs of air, both in relief that he didn’t have to carry the weight of his own body alone anymore, and with increasingly dwindling self-restraint. 

He had hardly stepped foot in your bedchambers before; only about four steps past the threshold of the doorway at most, out of fear that his mere presence when he visited in your absence would become a noticeable, tangible thing. Like you’d be able to sense if he ventured too far in for too long, too many times.

Everything smelled like you. Your unique flowery scent was almost palpable with how it clung to every surface of your living space, even the air itself. The contrast between the fleshy softness of your body pressed against the cold, angular ridges of his armor was enough to make his breath catch in his throat and his pulse to miss a beat. 

“M…milady.” Caleb croaked, his throat significantly lacking moisture to the point it almost ached to speak. At this point, the remaining strength in the knight’s body had become completely nonexistent; the sword he didn’t even have the strength to place back in its scabbard tumbled from his loosening grip onto the ground, the sound sharp and uncomfortably punctating. 

“Sir Caleb”, you gasped, your grip tightening on whatever area of his stocky, towering figure you could reach. Both the suddenness of the sound of metal colliding with stone and your delayed realization of how serious his injuries were pulled your nerves all the more taut, the worried furrow in your brow growing more prominent.

Caleb’s legs gave out next, all while his heavier form still partially hung from your sleep laden frame. His arm slipped from around your shoulder as he descended to his knees, the movement clumsy enough to slightly throw you off your balance. The room was still dark enough that you did not readily see nor notice the blood that now permeated the folds of your nightdress. 

The honorable knight— who did not quite look so on his knees like this— absentmindedly grasped at your calves, pulling another surprised noise from the back of your throat. It was as if making physical contact with you would steady his mind that swirled endlessly with fragmented thoughts, stained with the dark horrors that crawled from the depths of his subconscious, and keep him tethered to the plane of consciousness. The blood loss would soon catch up to him.

Silence descended upon your room, save for Caleb’s ragged breathing and your quiet, frayed inhales. He still held onto your lower legs like it was his lifeline, the mesh underside of his metal gauntlets sending a subtle shiver with each miniscule movement he made, but you did your best to silence any hitch in your breath or twitch in your muscles. Worry still festered underneath your skin, so much so that you were afraid if you moved, or even spoke, that Caleb might fall apart at your feet, considering his current state. 

“Milady…” Caleb tried again, his voice still rough but a muted veneration was present underneath his words, as if your title was the beginning of a prayer. It was a thought that spurred another shudder to crawl across your flesh. “Milady, I have returned. The war with the kingdom to the east—Havencroft—  is over now.”

The knight turned his head slightly so that his cheek was resting on the fat of your thigh, your nightdress being the only barrier between his skin and yours. Another stain of crimson leapt from the side of his face that rested on your leg to your clothes, but you could not see it from this angle. Caleb almost resembled a wounded animal, marking the territory that was once his after enduring an attack– not much for your sake, but purely for his own, as a reminder of sorts.

Even through the linen, you could feel the uneven puffs of warm air from his mouth fan across that small area on your thigh. Like a magnet attracted to a metal of the opposite affinity— a force yet to be explained or explored— your palm gravitated towards the knight’s armored shoulder. Whether it was an action of acknowledgement and commendation, to silently urge him off his knees, or as a means to steel yourself was unclear even to you.

“The enemies… have been defeated.” Each syllable felt delayed, each word tumbled from Caleb’s lips like a wispy trail of smoke from burning incense, and the casual hold you had on his steel shoulder imperceptibly tightened when you felt his gloved hands trail up the back of your legs. His movements were slow—almost reluctant and experimental— but deeply rooted in reverence, as if this was the first and last time he would be able to touch you so boldly.

The knight below knew better. He was well aware that his actions more than just bordered on bold, they fully reveled in it– embraced it, even. But he was having a significant amount of  trouble caring enough to stop himself. It was always a difficult task reasoning with the thing that resided in the folds of his unconscious— especially and specifically when it came to you. 

Caleb awaited you to halt the soft caress of his palms, either verbally or by action, but neither came. You were rendered silent, breath slightly restrained as you stared down at him from on high, your palm still resting upon his armor. A part of you was swayed by the currents of curiosity to see what he’d do next, just to see what might happen you allowed this moment to persist a bit longer. 

And the other part…might have enjoyed this. It might have enjoyed the sight, the sound, the sensation of his iron skin, the subtle yet unknown metallic aroma that washed over your senses, mixed with his signature musk.

So he resumed, both his movements and his speech, which were languid and slowed. “Those that wished… to do harm to the kingdom, to you…They have been slain.”

The way his head shifted against your leg was like a cat nuzzling itself against its human companion. The weight of his body pressed upon you like this was even a bit endearing, and it began to melt your heart. Caleb’s hands glided from the backs of your knees down to the base of your ankles, only to carefully ascend back up the valleys and shores of your legs. In his ascent the hem of your dress got caught in between the gaps of his fingers, causing it to steadily rise like a curtain and expose the bare, supple brown skin hiding beneath it. 

His touch was so gentle, like dragging the sharpened edge of a knife against one’s skin in fear of accidentally cutting it. As someone who has done so much damage and has scarcely been shown this kind of gentleness, it was a bit jarring to see himself embody it so naturally.  “...The lot of them. I made sure of it.”, he continued, the knight’s noble heart raced so frantically about his chest, he thought it might reverberate and echo against his chest plate if it were to beat any more intensely.

Even with the sizable gauntlets weighing down his hands, Caleb was still able to tell just how delicate and cushiony your flesh was, and he released a barely-there, shaky exhale of his own when his fingers lightly clenched around it. If he didn’t know any better, he might have thought he was on the brink of death and was kneeling before the gates of heaven.

It was nearly impossible for you to distinguish the sensation of the carmine substance being smeared against your bare skin with each inch Caleb caressed, because your nerves had put all its effort into focusing on his breath fanning across your legs and the cold surface of his armor. At some point, the hand laying on his shoulder levitated to rest atop his head instead, the area unadorned without his helmet; a shiver rolled down the knight’s spine at the gesture. Sweat dampened the rich, umber strands of his hair, and the heat radiating from the crown of his head rivaled the one building underneath your face and chest.

“The army of the east kingdom, boasting numbers of over eight-thousand men, have all…. fallen. All of their strongest knights…”

Caleb’s words sounded a bit muffled as his mouth was slightly pressed against your leg, his pillowy lips continued to trail across the expanse of increasingly exposed limbs, “...their battalions, their village militia units…”

By this point, Caleb’s strong sense of rationale, his logical consciousness that usually never steered him wrong had finally caved in on itself. The void that it left in its absence would now be filled and controlled by the iniquitous thoughts that plagued him day in and day out. Such immoral, perhaps unhealthy, thoughts that always had you at the front and center of it all.

“...Even the gentry. Witnessing them …attempting to wield a polearm was almost pathetic. I would have pitied them, but one way or another, they would have attempted to harm you and our kingdom in some way, at some point…” 

There was a brief pause, the surface of his parted lips and that of his artificial armor took turns savoring the feel and smell of you, even being so brash as to place tender almost-kisses across your thigh. You gasped silently at that, and the reflexive clench of your fingers in the tufts of his hair brought forth something of a purr that vibrated in the back of his throat. Embedded within that imperceptible purr in his deep voice lurked something more dangerous you did not notice— sharp, like having a dagger pressed against one’s jugular.

“And I cannot allow that.” 

Caleb continued to murmur about his achievements of war into your chestnut-tinted skin as if he were talking directly into it and not you— as if it were actively listening. And with the way your nerves sparked and crackled with each syllable he pronounced, you could easily become convinced that it was.

Aye, he could not even pretend to spare an ounce of compassion for Havencroft’s  gentrymen, or their local militia, their skilled battalions and armies, nor their most honorable knights. Not after their plans and intentions were discussed amongst the king’s council just months prior, which served as the reason why he and the rest of the kingdom’s army were dispatched there in the first place.

Swine, the lot of them.

The same could be said for his own king’s council members— your father’s most trusted political companions and advisors— that had the gall to speak ill of and scheme against the king and his realm.

The balls to speak ill of you when they believed there were no listening ears around; about how your future ascent to the throne would be this kingdom’s downfall, about how His and Her Majesty should have tried for more children in hopes of a young lad.

He could only thank the gods that he returned from his knightly travels when he did, for the dark-haired soldier knew within seconds of overhearing such idiotic arrogance what his next course of action should be.

Like some kind of cunning animal whose only purpose was to hunt and kill, Sir Caleb watched and waited for the opportune moment to present itself before closing in to strike. And that moment arrived when he realized the two men were making their way to the western-most side of the main castle, where the kitchen and laundry rooms were located. He sneered at how clever they thought they were being, choosing that specific place because they were aware most of the help and servants had retired for the evening.

Without a moment’s hesitation, when he had heard enough drivel, he attacked, administering two swift but fatal slashes to their vital points— one for each man. The pain from moving like that when his injuries had been previously reopened nearly caused his legs to buckle, but he remained steady and quick. This had to be quick, for it would be troublesome if they made noise or if he was too sloppy with his timing and execution. Blood splattered on the nearby walls from the sheer force of his swing, the blade cutting through the councilmen like a cleaver cutting through a slab of tender meat. He made a note to himself to come back and clean any remnants that remained later.

The councilmen fell to their knees, staring and cowering from Sir Caleb in confusion, shock, and unadulterated fear at the realization that their lives might end that very night, and that someone might have heard them.

Surely they blathered on in hushed voices, demanding to know the meaning behind his actions, begging for the knight to spare their lives, frantically questioning him if he had heard them say anything particularly controversial. But Caleb paid no mind and did not bother responding. All he did was stare at them, his eyes as empty as a weathered piece of parchment with no ink on it, his salmon-colored lips resting in a straight line that spoke nothing of his true thoughts. 

Caleb’s gaze alone deeply unsettled them, for they had never seen him look like that before.

On his honor as a knight, Caleb would die before he let any harm— relative or distant, real or perceived, indirect or direct— fall upon you if it was in his power to prevent it. Because not only did he pledge his allegiance to the ruler of this land, but to you as well. And in performing his obligatory duties as a knight— guarding you from near and far, being graced with your kindness, your wit, your smile—it was inevitable that he would fall in love with you at some point along the way. 

And wasn’t it a good thing, a true virtuous thing, a normal thing to do what you can for the one they loved? To keep them safe?

And so, with that resolve embedded in his heart, the knight Sir Caleb would do what he could, and did what he must when the steel of his blade at last collided with the mens’ uvula. The last thing those so-called loyal councilmen saw was his void eyes, and the slightest upturn in the corner of his lip.

But you need not worry or be privy to the gritty details. All you needed to know was that he fulfilled his duty in protecting you, in protecting this kingdom you loved dearly and would govern someday. He would see through this role until the day he could no longer.

Aye, you did not need to know that the blood that had now seeped into the fabric of your pretty lilac nightgown and smudged on his face was fresh; you did not need to know that in some other part of this very castle, two people that had been around since your youth had drawn their last breath, never to be seen again; you did not need to know that the faintest hint of guilt and regret for his actions was snuffed out the moment his eyes met your visage. You did not even need to know of the tender affection that he harbored for you– at least, not yet. A separate time for that should arrive soon, he would pray on it.

And now, all Caleb needed was to hear it from you. That you were proud of him.

“I hope my efforts in battle were satisfactory to you, milady. That my efforts …in keeping your safety and interests of the monarchy at heart pleases you.” 

The knight's lips continued to drag across your skin in a lackadaisical manner, its touch at some point turning into undeniable kisses— pecks so light and fleeting you could have imagined it.

But you weren’t. You knew it to be so because the phantom sensation that was left behind after each one was as real as the ground you stood upon.

You were indeed proud of the knight before you, on his knees revering you with his mouth like you were some kind of holy thing that might disappear into thin air. For all of his years here, you have seen the scrapes, the faded scars on his ungloved hands, a limp in his gait or a straggle in his step, and you felt sympathy for him. You sympathized with him for having to sustain a number of different injuries in the name of your kingdom and its values. But seeing him hurt also inspired a great deal of gratitude within you, and you always made sure to take time at night before you fell asleep to thank the Lord above for uniting your paths– even though the two of you were on slightly different social standings. You secretly hoped that one day, that fact might change.

This is why you had no problem in saying that, “From what you have told me, Sir Caleb, your endeavors in battle are indeed quite….satisfactory to me,” Your words were momentarily interrupted with a sound that sounded suspiciously close to a pleasurable sigh, your fingers absently combing through his hair as you continued to speak, “So I must thank you, for doing your duty so well, and apologize that you were so badly wounded in the name of this kingdom. I truly appreciate all that you do.”

The words of sincere gratitude that spilled from your plush lips only excited the muscle beating wildly in Caleb’s chest, and they were enough to spur his heavy hands to glide higher underneath your gown, moving to the backs of your thighs once again. As his lips persevered in its affectionate assault of your legs, his palms mindlessly cupped the full roundness of your buttocks and gave it a slight squeeze, effectively losing himself in the suppleness of your curved body.

His name, without the proper prefix, was about to fall from your tongue, but you swallowed it down in exchange for something else. “This kingdom is— I am quite fortunate to have someone so capable…so strong and valiant at our disposal. Thank you, Sir Caleb, you have done well.” 

And that was all it took for a quiet groan to be pulled from Caleb’s throat. A part of him hoped you didn’t hear it, he was already behaving so shamelessly.

But another part hoped that you did, so maybe then you’d realize without him having to potentially embarrass himself how much he cared for you, craved you, and impacted him so deeply.

“Thank you, milady. You are too gracious to me. I am unworthy of your praises, but will humbly accept them.” One palm resumed its directionless roaming to map out your lower body while the other remained on buttocks, interrupting his own reply by offering your skin doting, airy kisses in between. His reddish violet eyes were somewhat hooded when his gaze flickered up to look at you once more.

“I will continue to do my utmost…to serve you and your kingdom.... to the best of my ability.”

( # ) @smiley-babe @ramonathinks @dollwrites @valentineluvu @rinsko . my apologies if u did not want to be tagged. let me know if you want to be tagged in my future works!

[cy-cyborg]

How your disabled character's allies react to their disability can make or break the representation in your story: Writing Disability Quick Tips

[ID: An image with “Writing Disability quick tips: How your character's allies react to their disability matters” written in chalk the colour of the disability pride flag, from left to right, red, yellow, white, blue and green. Beside the text are 2 poorly drawn people icons in green, one is standing with their hand up to the face of the other, who is in a wheelchair. /End ID]

Something I brought up in my big post about Toph Beifong was how the other characters reacted to Toph pointing out that things were not accessible to her and setting boundaries regarding her disability, which were ignored. I had more to say about it than I thought I did, as it turns out (when isn't that the case lol) but I feel like this is an important aspect of disability representation that is all too often over looked.

You can write the best, most accurate portrayal of a specific disability ever put to screen or page, but it won't mean much if all the other characters, specifically those we're supposed to like and empathise with, treat your character terribly for being disabled and having needs relating to said disability, especially if the story justifies their behaviour.

You see this most often with autistic characters and especially autistic-coded characters. The character in question will be given a bunch of autistic traits, most often traits relating to not understanding certain social dynamics or sarcasm, and when they get it wrong, the other characters we are supposed to like jump down their throat, tease them or outright abandon them. Autism isn't the only disability that gets treated this way, but it is one of the more common ones that get this treatment. It doesn't matter if you do everything else right when creating an autistic character if the other "good guys" constantly call them annoying, get angry at them or laugh at them for the very traits that make them autistic, or for advocating for their needs.

Likewise, if you have a leg amputee character who is otherwise done well, but is constantly being criticised by their allies for needing to rest their legs or taking too long to get their prosthetics on, it undermines a lot of the other work you've done. Same goes for having a wheelchair user who is accused of being a bore or a stick in the mud because they point out the places their friends want to go to on a group holiday have no wheelchair access, or a deaf character who is accused of being entitled for wanting their family to learn to sign, or anything else.

This isn't to say you can never have moments like these in your stories, but its important to remember that a) people with the same disability as your character will be in your audience. If you spend a whole season of your TV show shaming your autistic character for real traits that real autistic people have, they're not exactly going to feel welcome and may not want to hang around. b) it's going to very, very heavily impact people's perceptions of your "heros" who do this, especially in they eyes of your audience members who share the character's disability or who have had similar experiences. This isn't like calling someone a mean name or being a bit of a dick when you're sleepy, it's going to take a lot to regain audience appeal for the offending character, and depending on exactly what they do and how frequently they do it, they may not even be able to come back from it at all. And finally, c) there should be a point to it outside of just shaming this character and saying the other guy is an asshole. Like I said before, you're character is criticising real people's real disabilities and the traits or problems that come with them, things that they often have no control over, it shouldn't be used as a cheap, quick way to establish a quirky enemies to lovers dynamic or show that one guy is kind of an ass before his redemption arc. If you really must have your characters do this, be mindful of when and how you use it.

[vanilladove]

❤︎ ₊ ⊹ get free (1/3)

pic creds luvpngs | gif creds akashi-tetsuki

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairing: asylum patient!nikolai x asylum attendant!fem!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre: v suggestive w/ plot (yasssss); read at your own discretion

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ content warnings: unhealthy relationships, infidelity, slightly yandere(?) nikolai, dubious consent, nikolai himself is a warning lol, also sorry if the asylum! au is inaccurate

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ summary: reader is an asylum attendant and is assigned to their newest admit nikolai gogol. ALSO this fic is heavily inspired by @/cherikolya's fic she's the one i'm running with- pls check it out and support her! also i'm splitting this up into 2 parts bc watching the aot anime has been breaking me and consuming all my thoughts, but i still want to post:( ˚₊‧꒰ა read pt 2 & pt 3 & bonus (bad ending) ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ word count: 5.7k (oops...what can i say nikolai makes me delulu)

"Nikolai Gogol. Age 26. Male. Charged with terrorism, first-degree murder, and treason among other things, but he got off with an insanity plea. Look over his file before he comes in later." The man behind the desk tossed the neat file carelessly onto the acrylic surface, exhaling boredly after giving his monotone rundown.

"I'm being assigned to him? But I already have other patients to take care of!" You inquired, fists forming at your sides as you already imagined the overtime and exhaustion you were going to rack up.

"Attendants don't grow on trees, do they? Don't assume I'll give you special treatment. Besides, I'm handing your other patients off to the new girls, so you'll be able to focus on Gogol. He's high priority." The man butted back.

Tch. You sighed and grabbed the file, mumbling a "fine" and turning to leave his office.

"Goodbye, dear." He spat it out like venom with a forced smile. You glanced back once more at the man: your boss⎯or rather husband⎯before heading out the door. You two were simply a marriage of convenience⎯a business transaction. In exchange for funding to build a new asylum on par with Mersault to rehabilitate criminals, your father had offered your hand in marriage to his business partner's son, who had become entranced by your beauty after seeing you once in your father's office. He wasn't too bad of a man at first, and you both related over your occupation together, but your marriage started to go sour after he realized you weren't just a pretty face or obedient wife, and it worsened after his narcissism and egocentricity started to show. He was too traditional and trapped you in his cage of rules and regulations. Even sharing the same bed and having dinner together couldn't reignite the nonexistent spark between you.

You walked back to your office and closed the door behind you before making yourself some herbal tea to calm your nerves. Laying down on the plush couch in the middle of your room, you looked through your new patient's file, trying to memorize all the details.

Nikolai Gogol, huh? What kind of person are you? You shivered reading the list of his crimes, which seemed endless and cruel.

An hour or so had passed before you heard a soft knock at your door. "Miss?" Another attendant had come to fetch you. "Your patient is waiting for you in the white ward." The white ward was where "high priority" or more dangerous patients were kept.

"I'll be out in a moment!" You called out, getting up from the couch and tidying up the space before fixing your hair and pulling down your uniform. It was a black flowy dress with puffy bell sleeves and a white rounded collar. The dress itself was a bit too short, being designed and chosen by your gross and perverted lovely husband. You walked out the comfort of your office and followed the attendant to the white ward.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Miss, this is your patient Nikolai Gogol". The attendant gestured to the tall man standing in the hallway outside of his room. He was strapped and held by two guards, with several others surrounding him holding special guns. He had a neutral smile on his face that turned upwards upon seeing you. You couldn't help but be momentarily mesmerized by the man in front of you. He wore a loose white button up and white linen pants⎯the standard male patient uniform⎯and his white hair was messily layered with a long, neat braid on his shoulder. His eyes were the most captivating to you, one emerald and full of life and the other a dull blue with a scar. Without the jester attire donned in his file pictures, he actually looked quite...handsome and prince-like?

You snapped yourself back to reality after remembering who you were dealing with and bowed slightly, just enough to stop your dress from riding up.

Observing the situation, you could sense the belligerence seething from everyone else. Not that you could blame them, the new patient was a dangerous anarchist. Your personal philosophy was always to treat the patient as humanely as possible in order to build trust and security, so you tried to not think about your new patient's file information. Just focus on diffusing the energy of the space and getting the jester to somewhat like you.

"Hello, Nikolai. I'm your attendant and will be taking care of you for the duration of your stay here," You looked back up and smiled gently at him, starkly contrasting the hostile glares from the other attendant and guards. "Let's get along, okay?"

Nikolai's eyes widened immediately and he tried to move closer to you. "Whaaaa! Nice to meet you, pretty miss! I can't believe such a beautiful girl is taking care of me!" The two guards forcibly stopped him from taking another step and the others pointed their guns at him.

Nikolai frowned and stopped squirming. "Hey! All I did was talk! Put those scary things away!" He giggled as the guards retracted their guns slowly and stuck his tongue out at the other attendant, who looked disgusted yet scared. He wasn't intimidated or scared at all. The guards then opened the door to Nikolai's room and placed him sitting down on his bed. Before you could follow to begin debriefing, the other attendant tugged on your arm lightly.

You turned back at looked at her. She had a fluffy blonde bob, light green eyes, and freckles. Lacey, one of the young new hires your husband mentioned earlier. "Um Miss, aren't we supposed to follow the script when interacting with patients? I thought smiling at them and speaking casually promoted unwanted feelings and was unprofessional?" You cringed, loathing that she sounded just like your husband when he was lecturing.

You shot her a fake sugary smile, "Oh, yes, I usually just take a softer approach with more unstable patients. Don't want them to stab you in the back immediately, do you?" You tried to answer lightheartedly, but your efforts clearly failed by the way Lacey had a horrified look on her face from your little joke, like it was the worst answer you could've said. You awkwardly coughed and put your hand on her shoulder.

"Right, thanks for reminding me, Lacey. It's great that you remembered the boss's words." Rolling your eyes once your back was turned to her, you stepped into Nikolai's room. You already dreaded Lacey telling your husband about you deviating from protocol and the long talk he would have with you at home.

"Four of us will be staying here to observe the debrief, Miss. This man is dangerous." You nodded as each of the four the guards stood in a corner of the room and the rest filed out of the room. You pulled up a stool and sat down, giving your new patient a run down of his daily schedule and how the asylum operated. The whole time, his eyes watched you excitedly like a puppy and he giggled and nodded frequently in between your sentences. It was strange and unsettling, but you were slightly relieved you didn't have to deal with an aggressive patient.

Scooting closer to Nikolai, you pulled out a small water bottle and a case of different pills. "These are your daily meds, Nikolai. I'll come to give these to you every morning at six before breakfast. I'll monitor your progress and adjust your dosage as time goes on." He nodded as you stood up and placed the water bottle on the stool, putting on a white latex glove and pouring the pills out into your hand. "I'm going to be administering them to you just for today. Open your mouth and don't close it until I'm done, okay?"

"Okay, missy! I'll be a good boy and try not to bite your pretty fingers off!" Nikolai perked up and giggled like a child getting candy. You mentally cringed and prepared yourself for the worst as you stepped towards him. What could you expect? This man was dangerous and had no reason to listen to you. The guards tensed up as you moved closer and pointed their guns at the jester's face. You swallowed as Nikolai opened his mouth, obnoxiously saying "ahhhhhhhh" and bouncing in his spot lightly.

Heartbeat increasing, you placed your free hand under Nikolai's jaw, thumb supporting his chin and lifted his face up slightly to you as you dropped the pills into his mouth. Mind racing and anxiousness clouding your vision, you missed the way he gaze softened. He closed his mouth and leaned into your touch more, nuzzling your delicate fingers. You swiftly pulled away, turning your head back to grab the water bottle behind you, attempting to hide the light rose that dusted your cheeks, unsure of whether it was from fear or embarrassment. Nikolai's eyes were still intently on you, so you secretly hoped he had missed that.

As you opened up the water bottle and stepped back towards Nikolai again, he shook his head. "I already swallowed them, I don't need any water, miss attendant." He opened his mouth again to show you proof before you sighed out an "okay" and tightened the cap back on. You grabbed the empty pill case before gesturing to the guards to put their guns down. They complied and two came over to slowly undo the restraints on his upper body, making sure to hold him back immediately after.

"Well, Nikolai, that's all for today. Thank you, and I⎯"

"Whoa, missy, you have a ring! Too bad you're already married!" Nikolai interrupted, his head poking up but quickly being pushed down by one of the guards. You cursed yourself silently as you froze in place. Since you had to move around a lot and constantly clean, you wore your wedding ring on a simple gold chain as a necklace instead. It was usually tucked under your uniform, but it must have slipped out when you were laying on your couch earlier. You cleared your throat awkwardly, tucking your necklace back into your uniform and trying to get rid of the instinctive frown on your face that appeared anytime your partner was mentioned.

"Yes, I'm married. Anyways⎯"

“But you held my face so lovingly just now. Won't your husband get mad? You're supposed to do that to him, not your new captive, right?"

You tightened your fists at that.

"That man…does he treat you well, pryntsesa?" Even though his head was held down, his dark gaze still cut into you, now not as innocent as it was before. You were sure the cheeky man was smirking too, taunting you with an otherwise harmless question.

You let out a fake laugh and an even faker wide smile in response, just eager to leave and go home now. Whatever charm you had your patient initially under had clearly faded away. "I'll see you tomorrow at six, Mr. Gogol." Nikolai's smirk turned down after hearing the name change, but quickly turned back up again followed by loud hysterical laughs⎯unbeknownst to you, who had already left his room.

"So the little ptashka wants to play games, does she?"

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Thanks for dinner, dear." Your husband said, wiping his mouth with a neatly folded handkerchief.

Shocking. Is he being...nice?

"Of course, I've already packed your lunch for tomorrow, too." You replied, occupied washing dishes and organizing the kitchen again.

"So, how was your first encounter with Gogol?" He inquired, walking over to you to put his dishes into the sink and lean against the counter beside you. You stopped for a moment, surprised he was making conversation with you today, as he usually retreated back to your shared bedroom or went to the living room to watch the news.

You were about to start until you noticed his brows furrowed and his arms crossed. You took your rubber gloves off and placed them next to you.

Oh boy, he's about to lecture me, isn't he?

"What are you really trying to say?"

He exhaled. "Well, Lacey⎯"

That snitch. You couldn't believe her.

"Ahhh, Lacey. The sweet young new girl you hired as extra help. What about her?" Your spouse's eyes narrowed.

"Respect your coworkers, dear. Lacey told me about your unprofessional interaction with Gogol. Smiling at a murderer and treating patients as friends doesn't exactly align with the asylum's values, now does it?" He said sternly.

"I was just trying to immobilize him. You can't exactly make a patient trust you when everyone's just shooting daggers at them, y'know?" He didn't look convinced. "Besides, this has always been my approach since I started in this field, and it's never failed me. You more than anyone should know I have the most successful recoveries among all the staff."

"Fine. Just make sure your unorthodox tendencies don't rub off on the other staff." He looked down at your neck. "And don't tuck your necklace under your uniform anymore. Don't want all the delinquents getting the wrong idea. You're off the market now" He lifted the chain of your necklace and traced the outline of the ring before letting go and walking to grab his coat and a pack of cigarettes.

"Going outside for a smoke break. You should get to bed and get some sleep for the long day tomorrow" He replied before walking out the door, your eyes following him.

You didn't miss the way he swiftly grabbed the keys and fixed his hair before leaving.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Good morning, dove!" Nikolai chirped upon you entering his room.

"Good morning, Nikolai. Did you sleep well?" You asked softly, taking his medication out and handing it to him, along with some Ukrainian candy.

"Mmhmm, yes I did! I had a sweet dream, too, doll, but I can't tell you what it was about!" He said excitedly. Used to his antics, you only laughed in response and watched as he took his pills⎯still without water for whatever reason and unwrapped the minky binky candy, popping it into his mouth.

Five weeks. That was how long it'd been since Nikolai was admitted to the asylum.

Despite your initial worries of dealing with a monster, you and Nikolai had gotten along quite well. He seemed to only listen to you, though, much to the dismay of the other attendants. It was beneficial for you though, since it meant you didn't have to work overtime seeing to other patients.

Nikolai had developed a habit of calling you by anything but your name, bestowing several different pet names on you⎯a new upgrade from "miss" and "missy".

He also became increasingly touchy with you as well: constantly holding your hand⎯intertwining his fingers with yours, braiding your hair, and hugging you when he felt "cold". Perhaps you were desensitized to it or just touch starved, but you rarely complained about it. You would rather keep him happy and easy to deal with, anyways.

"Look, pretty girl, I finished all my meds!" Nikolai exclaimed as he opened his mouth to show you proof that he swallowed them all.

You gave him a friendly smile. "You aren't having any bad side effects from your meds, are you?" You found it a bit odd that Nikolai's dosage never changed, since no one could pinpoint his exact condition. It made your job easy, though, so you tried not to think much about it.

"No ma'am. I had some trouble sleeping at first, but it's all gone now!" He stood up from his bed and watched as you straightened it up⎯simultaneously checking for anything suspicious. There never was anything somehow.

His hands loosely wrapped around your waist as he pressed himself against your bent back and rested his chin on your shoulder, causing you to push your hands into the sheets and wrinkle the thin blanket. You let out a surprised squeal when you felt his warm breath on your ear.

"Love, can we eat breakfast in the courtyard today?" He whispered softly, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You felt yourself blushing as you turned around and pushed him away, his hands still remaining on your waist.

"Y-Yes, N-Nikolai, we can go to the courtyard today." You said, finally stepping away to be free of his touch just for him to hold your hand. He flashed a happy smile at you while skipping out the door, tugging you along with him.

"Yayyyy! Me and ptashka are going on a date~"

"...It's not a date, silly." You replied back, blush still faintly across your cheeks.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You inhaled the fresh courtyard air, still holding hands with Nikolai as you walked on the cobblestone path. His breakfast to-go box and your lunchbox were on the nearby bench; you both already ate, but Nikolai basically ate most of your food, claiming the dining hall food was "stale and dry" compared to the pillowy cream puffs you'd brought.

"Wahhhh! Look at the fishies, dove!" Nikolai exclaimed, waving his finger at the koi fish swimming in the fountain. They eagerly swam towards him, probably thinking he was going to feed them. He giggled, eyes focusing in on two of the fish.

"Don't those two look like us, love?" You were snapped out of your previous trance and looked down to see a black koi fish and a larger white koi fish together cuddling into each other.

"Oh, I guess they do. Because of our uniforms, right?" You looked back up to Nikolai to see him frowning and still staring at the fish.

"No, dove, because they're in love..." He said lowly, to the point where you almost couldn't hear him. His gaze softened as he looked back down at you and cupped your face gently.

In love? Us?

Eyes widened, you felt confused as you looked away, not sure how to respond or think. The sudden action caused Nikolai's hands to drop away from your face. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see his disappointed face as you stammered, "We're not in lo⎯"

Your eyes flew open again as you felt something hard in your hand.

A bouquet of lavender roses was in your hand, with Nikolai giving you a big grin with his hands behind his back. "Pretty flowers for my pretty girl." You blushed, forgetting about what had just happened. You had always loved roses and their romantic charm.

When was the last time your husband brought you flowers?

"Lavender roses symbolize delight and love at first sight. They remind me of you." Your eyes widened again as you looked up, Nikolai turning serious and gazing at you affectionately, like you were really lovers.

You found yourself getting lost in his heterochromatic eyes. Somehow, you felt peaceful like this. Even though he was a dangerous criminal. Even though your heart was already sworn to another man.

"Thank you, Nikolai. They're beautiful." You said smiling at him, this time being genuine and not passive. You were falling into a serene state, only able to focus on him. His action had somehow touched your conflicted heart and put you in a good mood.

He laughed happily in response, pleased by your reaction. "You look lovely when you smile like that, sweetheart." He pulled your other hand back to the bench so you could sit.

"Also, you should give me a nickname, too. I have so many, but you only call me Nikolai~" He pouted, scooting next to you on the bench.

"Hmmmm...What should I call you then? Niko? 'Lai? Nikolas...?" You pondered, both of you slightly cringing at all of the options, each one sounding worse than the previous one.

"I know!" Nikolai exclaimed, grabbing your hands⎯still holding the flower bouquet⎯and clasping them together, "Kolya. Call me Kolya. That's what my close friends and family would call me!"

Family? You mean the ones you murdered? You tried to shake the thought.

"Kol⎯Ahh!" You cried out as you felt a deep prick on your left ring finger. You pulled your hand away from Nikolai's and dropped the bouquet, watching the blood drip down your finger and down to your thigh.

Nikolai's eyes filled with concern, "Love! You're hurt!" He rushedly rummaged through his breakfast box and his pockets, trying to find a napkin to stop the bleeding. You tried to calm him down, telling him you were fine, but he wouldn't listen.

Suddenly, he seized your left hand and brought it to his mouth, closing his lips around your ring finger. Shivers ran down your spine as you felt him running his tongue over your finger, getting every last drop of blood and kissing the spot slowly when he finished.

Heat rushed into your cheeks as the air felt thick, no longer serene and peaceful. Nikolai's eyes darkened, and an unreadable expression fell on his face.

"There's still some there, dove." He gazed down at the blood that had dripped onto your thigh. Your stomach churned at the thought of what he would do next as he pushed you down onto the bench and brought his lips to your inner thigh, leaving soft kitten licks all over the spot and lightly groaning.

"Niko⎯Kolya, s-stop⎯" You tried suppressing the moan threatening to spill out from the contact on your sensitive skin. You tried to push him away softly, but he wouldn't stop, now pressing light kisses that travelled up your thigh to your sweet spot. He was getting close. Too close.

You pushed his head away, not trying to be soft anymore, and sat up again, moving to the far side of the bench. You pulled down your dress again to cover your now reddened thigh.

"W-We can't do this. It's wrong. You're my patient, and I'm your attendant. And..." You hesitated, regaining your composure, "...And I'm married." You said, biting your tongue. The gold necklace suddenly felt heavy around your neck, like it was pulling you down.

Nikolai laughed bitterly, "You don't love him though, myla. He's kept you trapped in a cage. Is that what you want, dove? Do you want to be trapped in his cage?"

"I⎯"

"Miss! Mr. Gogol! There you two are! We've been looking everywhere for you both. There's a group wellness activity starting for all the patients, and they're waiting on you." You turned around to hear a familiar high-pitched voice.

Lacey. The snitch new girl.

You put on a fake smile. "My apologies, I completely lost track of time. Lacey, you can escort Nikolai to the group's meeting spot. I'll be retiring to my office for the rest of the day." She nodded as you grabbed the bouquet and your lunchbox and took one last look at Nikolai before standing up from the bench and turning away, "I'll see you tomorrow, Nikolai." You didn't wait for a response back.

It felt too awkward. Everything felt confusing; you knew your place but you also wanted to be free. You liked Nikolai but you didn't know if those feelings could be considered love. You surely didn't love your husband...

All you could do was hold onto the roses and gaze up at a dove flying across the sky. For a moment, you wished to be like that dove. To be elegant, at peace, and loved.

You wished to be free.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to scan your access card and enter Nikolai's room. Today was a special day, after all.

"Good morn⎯"

"Love! You're finally here! I was waiting for you~" Nikolai exclaimed as he lunged towards you, burying his face into your neck. He wasn't wrong; The extra time you spent collecting your thoughts and debating going in or not made you two minutes late.

You lightly pushed Nikolai away⎯not before he caught your hands and intertwined them with his again⎯and tried to put a neutral smile on your face. "Nikolai, I have good news for you."

His face lit up as he clasped your hands and brought them towards his chest, "What is it, dove? Are you divorcing your husband and leaving him for me?" He shook your hands excitedly as you eyed him disappointingly. He really wasn't going to drop this lovesick act, was he?

You shook your head and cleared your throat, "No, as a reward for good behavior, you can choose a special place to visit and an item to keep in your room. Your options are the courtyard, the gy⎯"

"The library. I want a book to read." Nikolai stated, suddenly turning serious, taking you slightly aback; you didn't take him as the type to be able to sit still and read for a long time.

"Alright, the library it is then. Take your meds first, and then we can go, 'kay?" He nodded excitedly as you turned away from him to make his bed and do the usual check. Nothing suspicious, as usual.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The guard greeted you both as you approached the grand library doors. It was an old wooden room with tall glass windows that contrasted the relatively short bookshelves. It wasn't exactly a popular destination for patients, so the books were mostly dated and collecting dust. The natural light inside made it one of your favorite break spots during your trainee days, so it was a bit nostalgic for you.

"There are security cameras around the library, but radio in if anything happens." The guard explained sternly, looking over at Nikolai and then you, "Do you need assistance with your patient, or will you two be fine alone?"

You shifted your gaze over to Nikolai, who had a slightly mischievous smile on his face but maintained a serious expression. "We'll be fine alone. He'll behave." The guard nodded at you before opening the door and letting you two in. The door shut firmly and you tried to grab Nikolai's hand, but he dashed away from you towards the large stained glass window before turning to face you.

"It's so big in here, ptashka. I haven't been in a library in sooooooo long. I actually love to read, y'know?" He said, smiling and motioning for you to join him. The colorful stained glass reflected on his face, casting multicolored kaleidoscopes on his face.

You joined him, admiring his beauty momentarily before leaning against the window and crossing your arms. "I didn't know that, no. To be honest, I didn't think you were much of a reader.." You said lightly with a giggle.

Nikolai grinned back, "Heh. There's a lot you don't know about me, dove." He looked away, lowering his voice a bit, "But that's fine. You'll have plenty of time to learn everything later~" You looked at him confusedly, not quite catching what he said, but you remembered the reason you came and grabbed his hand again.

"Anyways, was there a particular book you were looking for? I know this place pretty well." He laughed in response.

"Ah, is that so? Well, I'm looking for The Overcoat. It's my favorite book." Nikolai said proudly, like he was trying to impress you with his literature selection.

"The books are sorted by last name. Do you know the author?" You asked, leading him towards the bookshelves. Nikolai just squeezed your hand and started skipping forward at a fast pace, practically dragging you behind him as he started giggling hysterically.

"Nope! Not a clue, hehe~" You paused and frowned at him. Who didn't even know the author of their "favorite" book? "The genre's fiction, though, if it helps~" Nikolai said giddily, turning towards you and swinging your arms from side to side. You sighed and slowly headed over to the fiction section. There were about 1,000 books to go through, so you weren't exactly too excited. Not that it bummed you out too much, though, since your husband had asked you to help the new girls clean if you finished early with patient duties. You supposed you'd rather spend your time with Nikolai finding his book.

You both agreed to search the shelves simultaneously, Nikolai looking on the higher shelves and you on the shorter ones. The space between shelves was quite narrow, making his chest rub against your back several times. He wasn't shy either, grabbing your hips to maneuver past you, causing you to jolt when he pressed himself behind you.

Starting to lose count of how many books and shelves you'd checked, you were falling into a tired daze until Nikolai's sudden shout woke you up. "I found it, dove! I'm the winner! Me, me, me!" You looked over to Nikolai, who now had his book in his hands, and shot him a relieved smile.

He hurriedly headed towards you as you gave him some congratulatory praise. "Guess our work's done here, then. Let's get some lunch and call it a da⎯"

He hugged you suddenly, making you yelp as he giggled and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against him. He leaned in by your ear, squeezing you tighter, inhaling your scent, "Say, dove, do you still have the roses I gave you from the courtyard?" You perked up toward him as he smiled, awaiting your response.

You did. You'd placed them in a small glass vase⎯trimming the thorns off⎯and put it on your dresser. Somehow, the sickly sweet smell was stronger in your room than it was in the courtyard. "Yeah," you smiled, "They're in a vase by my dresser. I couldn't bring myself to get rid of them because of how beautiful they were." Nikolai snickered at that, delighted that you'd cherished his little gift.

He slowly smirked, "Your husband doesn't give you flowers, does he?" You tensed up a bit under his arms but relaxed again, frowning and looking down.

"No, he doesn't. I think the last time was during our honeymoon." Nikolai cuddled into your neck after that, rubbing your sides like he was trying to comfort you.

"What a shame, love. You should leave him for me. He doesn't deserve you." Nikolai said, his teeth barely grazing your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Was the space always this narrow?

"I can't. It doesn't work like tha⎯"

"Why not, though? Leave him for me. I'm actually perfectly sane, y'know? I know how to make you happy, how to free you from his cage..." He paused, "How to touch you..." His hands on your waist trailed down, pushing your skirt up higher.

"H-hey!" You stammered, stopping his hands from going further with your own, "We can't do this. There are cameras here." You anxiously looked around, trying to find them, but Nikolai's hand grabbed your face and pulled it back down to him.

"Shhhhhh. Stop worrying, myla. This is a blind spot. It's covered by the light, see?" He tilted your face up slowly again toward the camera, which was in fact covered by a big, dusty lantern. How convenient.

He pushed your skirt up again and grinded himself on you, and you swore you could feel his bulge pressing up against you. "You've been driving me crazy, dove, since yesterday I've only been able to think about you," he grunted, slipping his hands into your loosened dress and under your lacy bra to palm and squeeze your breasts. "The sounds you made...I wanna hear them again."

Your head was screaming at you to run away and get the guard, but you couldn't ignore the wet spots on your matching lace panties from your arousal. To be honest, you didn't remember the last time you'd been this intimate with anyone, and your body was clearly craving touch. Your breath hitched as Nikolai kissed below your ear, working his way down to the crook of your neck. You were starting to feel lightheaded.

Becoming more desperate for a reaction, Nikolai suddenly pinched your sensitive nipples and bit down on your neck, causing you to yelp in pleasure. "A-ahh K-Kolya⎯" The sudden impact caused you to push back against his clothed member and grip onto the sturdy shelf in front of you for support. You could feel him grinning in satisfaction, letting out a low groan.

"Mmm there's the pretty noise I wanted to hear~" Nikolai replaced his lips with his tongue, trailing slowly up and down your neck as you kept bucking against him, needing more friction. "Dove," he heaved as you mewled upon feeling his tip brush against your clit through eachother's clothes. He couldn't handle seeing you start to lose yourself. "F-fuck, kiss me".

Nikolai grabbed your hips suddenly and turned you around, so your back was against the wooden shelf. You looked up at his face; he was panting heavily, eyes filled with lust, and a few strands loose from his usual kept braid. The sight of him made your cheeks flush and your panties even wetter. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in, bringing one hand to his lips and tracing his bottom lip with your thumb. You gazed intently at his lips. Just one kiss will be fine, right?

Both of your noses were practically rubbing against each other as Nikolai started to dip down. "Kolya, I⎯"

BAM!

You instinctively pulled away as you recognized the sound of the old library door being kicked down. As the stomping of the guards' boots grew closer, you pushed Nikolai off your body and fixed your dress. Nikolai shot you a surprised glance as the guards knocked down the heavy bookshelves to open up the space around the two of you, eliminating the narrow confines. You couldn't process what was happening as five guards circled around Nikolai, drawing their guns and pointing them at him as he put his hands up. Another guard was slowly approaching you, lifting the walkie talkie up to his mouth.

"06, copy. Patient Gogol has been surrounded and apprehended successfully. We're on our way to the interrogation room," He glanced over to you, still sitting down in shock, "His attendant's here, too. We'll bring her to you, Boss."

Boss? Your husband? Shit, had you been caught?

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even notice Nikolai being handcuffed and pushed out the door⎯or the way he looked back at you⎯until the guard put his hand on your shoulder and called out your name. "Miss, we need to get going. We'll explain everything once we're with the boss again." He helped you up as you trailed slowly behind him with a churning stomach and The Overcoat clutched tightly in your arms.

˚₊‧꒰ა part 2 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˚₊‧꒰ა part 3 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[bitdemonic]

⋆.˚𝕭𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝕱𝐈𝐋𝐄:˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊𝕻𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐀 𝕬𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍

𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐏��𝐏 𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄. 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐔𝐏, 𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐒. 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘.

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𓆩ψ𓆪 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 [𝐓𝐈𝐏𝐒]

↓

𝐁𝐈𝐎

Born July 1st, 1967, Pamela Anderson is a Cancer Sun, Aries Moon, Gemini Rising native (57 years of age). Her planet dominants include being Venusian, Mercurial, and Uranian ruled, a sum of how wild and untamed her celebrity became under the spotlight. Coined the blonde bombshell of the 90s, Pamela's impact is prominent in areas related to fashion and makeup, as her signature looks are referenced heavily today.

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ⟶ 10 OF CUPS RX

Definition: Unhappiness, feelings of loneliness and disharmony in emotional aspects of life (relationships, home, personal). In terms of appearance, this is someone who's pain is evident; suffering is a part of their day to day living, ultimately their legacy or public image. Pamela's beauty had been bullied and misjudged, something she's felt since childhood [as told her memoir]—10oC can be the details of her distinct features, but it's very heavily connected to her past wounds.

Interpretations

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 This card makes sense to me, because Pamela's upbringing was both tumultuous and traumatic, eventually leading her to modeling as an escape. Spotted on the jumbotron of her hometown's stadium led to being scouted by Playboy, otherwise her first taste of freedom (liberation). During this era, she'd made the decision to dye her once brunette hair to platinum blonde [which is told by the number 10, her whole identity changed with the color].

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 "Bad girl", heartbreaker kind of beauty; barbed wire tattoo, fuller breasts/lips, and the classic Pam Anderson updo. I'll even connect the Cups to how voluminous and soft her hair looked; it reminds me of having golden ringlets lol. These features emulate the energy of what this card indicates as far as romance and relationships—despite being in "love", she looked the part of being hard to tie down. Goes hand in hand with her overall appearance being in tune to match her partner's, she'd emulate their vibe as far as being a couple [even when unhappy].

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Less is more would be the underlying definition of this card, which can be applied to Pamela's thin brows, petite frame, and tighter fit clothing—she found this to be who she was, internally and externally, but could've been judged for "breaking the mold" (i.e. norm). Considering that she just recently started exploring more with her appearance, it's safe to say that she probably never thought to step outside this comfort zone.

I'll even go so far as to say that 10oC ↺ is the ridicule and hate she was prone to receive going on live television or radio shows, it's adding onto the fact that she felt like she couldn't do/be anything right under the spotlight. Holding up appearances and feeling distress are a part of its themes, she felt humiliation all the time and felt she couldn't stop it. Defending herself was frequent back then, which inevitably led to public outbursts and meltdowns out of exhaustion (I feel for her so much man).

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Want to connect the card's imagery to the oceanlike solemness of her eyes, they've cried many tears and evidently hold lots of secrets (essentially, she's been through a lot and more often than not you can tell how much). In certain pictures her eyes are widened, almost surprised to be hurt, or sad. Could be her eye color in general, just because they're almost* the same shade. Thinking that her eyes are her best/favorite feature because of the depth they hold; definitely a profound stare that touches everyone with their stories.

Bonus: Big pointer to her current decision to abstain from wearing heavier makeup in public. In reverse, it's basically the catalyst to Pam outgrowing how she used to present herself, now opting for a more comfortable essence opposed to what we're used to. Public opinion could wane, but the whole point of 10oC is having emotional fulfillment made from emotional decisions; she did this for her, nobody else.

𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐔𝐏 ⟶ THE HANGED MAN RX

Definition: Indecisiveness, remaining stagnant, nothing different about a challenging obstacle, circumstance, or situation. With this card, we're able to understand the lasting impact and influence of Pamela's signature look; thinly arched brows, heavily smoked out shadow, glossy finished pigmented lips were a key component to her sultry glam appeal. Each step was perceived as unlocking our inner femme fatale, so much that even today her 90s era is practiced for wear.

Interpretations

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Feelings of being trapped [or "held at her will"], may've felt that she couldn't break free of an image, or like she was always going to be seen one specific way (e.g. being trashy). The Hanged Man ↺ is responsible for staying in the same place because you're actively choosing to ignore discernment (intuition); she was likely to accept the hatred and belittlement, before realizing her voice mattered most.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 It wouldn't be surprising if Pamela was quite stubborn about the way her makeup was supposed to be done, considering resistance and blockages are prevalent—either she had the formula down pact, or she's kept the same makeup artists(s) for majority of her career. The Hanged Man ↺ is also an indicator for deep colors and winged liner around her eyes but done in a precise manner (none of her makeup is out of place, smudged, or over excessive), lots of focus around her head/face area in general.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Neptune is the ruler of this card (illusions, fantasies, things that aren't "there") which speaks to Pamela's beauty having influence over the masses, both makeup and sex appeal. I wouldn't say this is a good thing, because we've been eyewitness to the harassment (misogyny) she's been subject to, it's a telltale sign that she wasn't seen as a person let alone worthy of respect (Hanged Man hanging upside down by the foot). On the other end however, this speaks for her makeup technique still being on trend despite when it first originated—timeless energy, even after our generation grows old.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Indication for the use of contour/bronzer to emphasize the structure of her cheekbone area, using enough that her face gave off the impression of being snatched. Intimidatingly daunting sometimes, she likely challenged her haters or men for the power she evoked. Her step by step could actually be quite simple, otherwise not needing many products or directions to execute it; Hanged Man ↺ showing that she's the original that others use for inspiration.

More often than not, her beauty and makeup were perceived well before her actual outfit (albeit cute). Her glam could've been a standalone in the 90s (i.e. no one else was wearing it) and it gained lots of attention or publicity. "Traction" is being channeled, which is alluding to Pam's makeup in/for "Barb Wire" earning lots of popularity for its allure (she definitely started a new wave lol).

𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍 ⟶ THE STAR

Definition: Inspiration, happiness, spotlight or limelight, renewal (transformation/rebirth). The Star is our indication of Pamela's inner happiness spilling out into her appearance, something that she's prone to do and go all out in when she's at her best. Her clothing pieces and outfit choices set the stage to her personality [which makes sense seeing that she's Leo Venus; the Sun is its ruler and is our outlook on the world].

Interpretations

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 One thing I noticed about Pam's choice of fashion is that she typically stays comfortable no matter what she has on. She doesn't necessarily have a specific aesthetic, more so clothes that mesh well with the vibrant aura she withholds; the Star is ruled by Aquarius, the sign of originality and innovation, and she's been prone to stand out for clothes that accentuate her "vibe" [and current era]. Indicator of being capable of pulling off anything or wearing something without letting it 'wear' her.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 The Star can represent self or the essence of who you are at the core (like stars, constellations that burn off their presence in the sky), which translates into Pamela's femininity being a key to how she brought an outfit to life. In many of her pieces worn onstage or on the carpet, Pamela had a way of bringing attention to how daring she was as a celebrity [early 90s - 2000s]. More than anything this is shown in her profile of photoshoots and model campaigns; she's quite literally a star on any cover, she's effortlessly photogenic [which is another indication of this card]. Makes sense she's still dominating the camera in her mid-fifties—she'll never lose the potential to turn heads.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Not the biggest staple in terms of what makes her stand out, but I wanted to mention that I noticed Pam has an affinity with wearing pitch black (or dark) shades depending on her choice of dress. I feel like they add to the mystique she carries and if anything, the sunglasses emulate the side of herself that she's taken back from the public [after having her boundaries constantly overstepped]. The Star is something/someone that can't go without some kind of notoriety or attention, to me Pam's fashion has transcended past negativity and bullying, I feel as if you can see her today and know that things are much different than earlier in her fame. Glasses remind me of being a girlboss, and this card confirms that she's respected for it.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 This was a download as well as an observation, but Pamela would often match her style to the aesthetic of her partners; most famous would obviously be her flame with Tommy Lee (no free promo for a weirdo). Considering the Star speaks about the renewal after a difficult time and most of Pam's iconic moments are shared with him, it's safe to suggest that her fashion is connected (remembered) alongside their relationship. It may've been a larger influence on the masses more specifically during that era, not nostalgia, but a capsule to that transformative time period. Not to mention that Tommy was ultimately her breaking point—her first awakening was likely after their invasion of privacy.

Bonus: Couldn't resist inserting a few example pics of what I meant when I said she's working the camera and extremely well for her age. Mini prediction, but I wouldn't be surprised to see her on different types of magazines and runways after more recognition for "The Last Showgirl", she's going to be a goldmine in terms of bringing back certain pieces ("last minute touches") to modern day magazines ("prints"). She's entering a new season for sure, I believe she'll make every second or step count. Channeling the word untouchable.

𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ⟶ 6 OF PENTACLES RX

Definition: Lack of generosity or charity, pettiness, abuse of authority over those with none, strings attached, undervalued. Ironically, Pamela's hand in pop culture wasn't properly recognized up until recently (past decade) and it's due to society devaluing her worth in light of scandals and modeling. This card would be representative of her quote unquote disappearance from the spotlight albeit her valid reasons why.

Interpretations

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Downplaying Pamela's popularization of the TV show "Baywatch" is something that's argued a lot for being so "controversial" (or unlikely), when the truth is that introducing her character CJ Parker quite literally boosted the ratings; classic red bathing suit, emerging from the water in that* scene, and overall being a beautiful girl with a personality to match, CJ cemented the show as an American television staple. This role alone surged Pamela into sex symbol status [albeit not a good thing], her credibility and name were on the verge of being taken seriously.

6oP in ↺ drives home the point I brought up earlier, how Pamela's acting career didn't take off due to how the public sexualized her own freewill. The number six in tarot correlates to adjustment, sympathy, and comfort which are interpreted in a negative [or challenging] sense due to the card's position—a reversal in this context indicates Pamela's presence shifting the world's view onto the wrong things. Instead of viewing CJ from the storyline's perspective, society chose to sculpt her into another sexual caricature from Pam's past (Playboy), in turn pivoting her starlight into an unwanted direction.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 "Barb Wire" was another form of media in which Pamela's most iconic moments (looks) can be found, but with the 6oP in ↺ it wasn't seen as such during the time of filming; might be a stretch but I feel like this card can indicate going back in time, considering the number six is connected to themes of recovery and pentacles are physical/time related, Pam's significance wasn't properly recognized up until the latter half of her acting career (i.e. ignoring her relevance during filming, 1996). I suggest all this because back then Pamela had already faced backlash and disrespect over the leak of private property, hence connected to why the movie tanked.

I'm snowballing this observation, but I did read that onset she had basically been non-prioritized and treated like a prop. Directors were watching her home tape before she arrived, her boundaries were borderline overstepped, and all in all she'd won "Worst New Star" at the Razzie Awards (nominated six times). This card is apparently the definition for why Pamela was constantly dragged for participating (exchange, 6oP) in a project versus applauded for what she did right. The film wasn't Oscar worthy, but other factors that deserved recognition didn't happen due to harsh criticism; costume design and makeup department deserved praise, as well as Pam's dedication to the premiere [and job overall], but alas.

ཐིཋྀ It's kinda difficult to get an actual grasp on this card and Pamela's influence in a positive sense, but I feel as if that's the reality of her situation—public attention wasn't a friend, so for the longest she had the short end of the stick, even apart from how she shifted her chosen industry/career projects. Ultimately time was a reward (fast forward to the way she's currently flourishing), but much of her time as a celebrity was shroud in disdain. To be honest I'm even channeling that she's behind a few trends [from today or back then] and we just don't know anything about it; not that she's erased, but Pam's significance is a lot more profound than we've been told.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Not going into great detail, but 6oP in ↺ is definitely connected to the loss of millions from Pam and Tommy's privacy; a lot of struggle and hardship went into lawsuits at their expense, they practically went to war for their personal life (which was bullshit). Pamela doesn't revisit that point in time rarely at all, but whenever the topic arises, her first response is that she didn't receive/earn "a single red cent" from the invasion. I tried to dodge discussing that considering it's trauma and old wounds (news), but this card drives home the fact that she was barely considered and acknowledged with respect, nonhuman and only an object of desire at the worst times.

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐑𝐀 ⟶ KNIGHT OF CUPS

Definition: Offering of peace, restoring faith and happiness, taking action (following your heart), vulnerability (empathy). Pamela's "comeback" has been one that is apparently made with love and appreciation for self, for her fulfillment with life as her own person [and not who she was painted out to be]. Knight of Cups is the beauty behind each step and thought she makes; we're witnessing a rebirth and its testimony.

Interpretations

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Knight of Cups coming out for this era of her life honestly made me smile, it's because this confirms her contentment with all opportunities that present themselves. Her mindset [and perspective] on the world around her is renewed; her outlook, perspective, and ideal view have been aligned to match her beliefs (i.e. happiness is key). I also feel like this is being presented as her wardrobe or color palette—creams, light pinks, baby blues, florals, etc. Cups are emotional, lightweight (with context), and essentially carefree, this card is Pamela's outer expression in a brighter light and on a higher frequency.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 I keep being brought to the fact that her new movie is out and in theatres ("The Last Showgirl"), so I can only assume that this project is monumental, or really profound, to Pamela's growth in all things she invests in emotionally. Work, relationships, interests and hobbies, etc. Focus may be locked into those areas for quite some time and it's simply because she's appreciative of the bond she's made with them—connections are of the utmost importance, hence the movie earning a spot in her heart. She's going to be singing praises about the things she's learned onset, how they've helped her understand womanhood ("femininity"), and what it means for her future as an actress, mother, or individual. This energy is really promising and sweet, she's meant to find herself in new experiences and people.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Could indicate a new partner? Or someone from the past that she'll let back into her life, might be open to giving out second chances (feeling old co-worker director vibes, work is related). She's definitely in an era where forgiveness is allowed, I'm honestly picking up on an old connection being resuscitated and for the better; it doesn't have to be romantic, but more so a close friend (before or after reconciliation). This can also be consideration for herself hence the bullet points before; incorporating more affirmations or enlightening ways of thinking to further propel the spiritual journey she's embarked on [or "will embark on"].

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Not channeling much as far as her current era goes and part of it is making me think it's because she's still exploring. Knights in tarot represent an individual [typically between 20s - 30s] that're using resources and their own knowledge to elevate into a King/Queen. Essentially, the energy these cards bring are understudy willing to take more classes or learn under a mentor (depending on the suit ofc); in this case, Pamela is extending herself into an area of career that makes her feel worthy of accepting love as herself. As I said, she's doing so much on her own and for her own happiness, she's proving to herself [and herself only] that she doesn't need to rely on anyone that doesn't understand her most intimate parts (self). Spiritually and emotionally inclined time that we're seeing, it'll propel her into another side of life that she had to discover through healing. Love that so much for her lol.

© 2025 BITDEMONIC

[smilesrobotlover]

I’ve been thinking about the deities I created for the Zelda universe a little too much and now I’m…. In too deep

So first of all, Labrynna and Holodrum seems to house the oracles Nayru and Din, so I called them the lands of Wisdom and Power respectfully. The golden goddesses are the highest of goddesses since they created the world, and so the oracles travel the lands, with the deities watching over.

Ok so buckle up cuz I’m gonna super ramble here

Nayru, Din, and Farore both created the world, and left behind the Triforce. They are extremely powerful, but a mysterious force that devoured everything, Null began to cause issues for them. Needing to protect the Triforce which could protect or destroy the world they created, they asked their youngest sister Hylia to protect it, which is why the Triforce and the hero is housed in the land of Hyrule (Hylia summoned a hero to help protect the land from danger). Hylians are the most like the goddesses and long ears and blonde hair are considered highly attractive

Anyways, while Hylia was tasked in protecting the Triforce, the other younger sister, Loria, was tasked in containing Null, since Lorule sorta reminds me of the rifts in eow (tho I should really play ALBW. The vibes are there tho).

Loria ended up losing her life and used the rest of her power to create the little tris to seal the rifts, and this is because of Demise, a demon that appeared and desired the power of the Triforce. Where he came from is unknown, but he entered the land of the Triforce to steal it, and the war happened and Hylia gave up her mortality to stop Demise and protect the triforce. Rip the queens.

Then the rest of the gods appeared, who were not related to the golden three and used to be mortal.

Labryn was a human who saw his family fall apart after one of his brothers killed the other (kind of like Cain and Abel). He is the war god, but he actually hates war and does not want anyone to raise their weapons against their own with no justification, since he saw what it can do. He’s more like Athena than anything, not so much Ares. During the early years of Hyrule, the interloper war began, and the Triforce was once again threatened. With the main protector gone, the goddesses asked Labryn to create light spirits to banish the interlopers, whom he carved out of wood, thus creating the light spirits of Hyrule. They live in the land of Hyrule since that’s where the Triforce is housed. Afterwards, Labryn meets and falls madly in love with a simple noble woman, a mortal, and he gets married to her and they have children. These children are eventually crowned as rulers of Labrynna. Eventually, a war takes place and many innocent leaves to new land south of Hyrule and create Ordon, whom Labryn sends the last light spirit he created, Ordona, to watch over. Ordona is like his pet and he adores her. Ordona protected Ordon so well that Hyrule didn’t even know about their new neighbors until after the execution of Ganondorf. Now Labryn spends his time alone since his wife was a simple mortal and unfortunately passed, and he tries to make sure his descendants rule righteously, tho interacting with the mortals is heavily advised against, so there’s only so much he can do.

Hollow and Drum used to be Gerudo sisters who believe in entertainment and fun. There’s only so much you can do without allowing yourself some pleasantries. I wish I could say I have more on them but I do not :( but that’s some important info! They don’t speak, but they communicate through their dancing. Their vibes is kinda like Yaelokre if y’all know that, idk why. Just masked, childlike beings that sing and dance (tho they don’t actually sing lol)

Then Ram. There is no canon land of courage, and I don’t think Hyrule is that land because of the balance of the three Triforce pieces, so I went ahead and created a new land myself. Totally original and not from any game lol. Ram is the god of agriculture and honestly anything like that. He definitely intermingles with the people of his land and has had several children with several women. The people there look like Hylians but are not, with more long and roundish ears compared to the delicate, pointy ears of Hylians. They also can live for a very long time, unless they leave the presence of Ram. They live completely separate from others and do their own thing, living off the land and sticking close to Ram. Ram was originally a Zonai, and everyone in his land knows him personally. They’re extremely strict and overly zealous, and do not like outsiders

Then Oshus, who was originally a leviathan. I love him sm, and he protects the entirety of the ocean, which has its own issues like with Bellum and stuff. I’m just gonna say that Bellum took his wings hence why he has none. Not much to say, just think of phantom hourglass.

Now, it’s important to note that these deities became deities around the time Hylia fought Demise, but there was one that suddenly vanished. One that resembles the goddesses with his longer ears, Link, who was turned into the Fierce Deity. Except he didn’t join his fellow deities after they reached godhood, instead he was sent to the mysterious and abandoned world of Termina. Since he returned to Hyrule, the deities have grown uncomfortable with his sudden presence.

Some stuff: Hyrule has the hero and priestess, Labrynna has the oracle Nayru, Holodrum has the oracle Din, Ramenia has the oracle Farore, and the ocean has the three fairy spirits Ciela, Neri, and Leaf!

And yeah! Hytopia worships Hylia, they’re just kinda there tho vibin. Yeah too much worldbuilding but… I love that about Zelda. I can just take the patterns of the lore and do my own thing with them. Hope you guys like the lore :))) and I hope it makes sense! If you have any questions, let me know! I’m also bending canon just a smidge here but it’s still fun! I try to be somewhat accurate to the important stuff!

[konpeitonom]

could we have more of the college dating curly (add the nsfw part if u want this time) 😜

college! dating headcanons for grant curly. pt2

nsfw — lowercase intended ^_^

fem reader —

requests are open and heavily encouraged, i write for every mw character ^.^

notes; the reader i'm writing here is a bit inexperienced.. i hope that’s okay with you!! also ill write more sfw ones if that’s requested, nsfw ones too if this wasn’t enough lol. college curly is sexy, i need him irl. not proofread, its late so obvious typos might have slipped thru.

nsfw under the cut! minors do not read

— jimmy is his roommate, yeah. and jimmy tries to make his life miserable in small little ways like refusing to leave the room when you two wanna get it on. hopefully you have a single, or have an absent roommate of some sorts. the worst outcome would have to be working around jimmys schedule which isn’t all too bad..

— shower sex might work too, if you can keep it down, he’d say, as if he isn’t vocal too.

— if you were both virgins, he’d be okay sort of taking control- especially if you were nervous. he’ll guide you even if he himself has no idea what to do. the first time might’ve been awkward but isn’t everyone’s?

— big on cock warming! especially when he’s doing work. he says it ‘keeps him focused’, a blatant lie. he just thinks it’s hot you’re sitting on his dick while he works, that’s all.

— in relation to that, he likes clothed sex. yeah, he loves seeing your body, but there’s something so cute when your hair is a mess, your clothes barely on..

— bonus points if it’s his clothes you’re wearing. he can’t get enough of it, really.

— in my nsfw alphabet i mentioned he likes cumming on your stomach. i also think he’d like cumming just outside of you, like on your thighs or on your pussy.

— you two are both college students, so life can get pretty stressful. meaning a lot of pent up sex is evident.. you two both need it. and he’s happy to take the reins on that.

— still very intimate. he’s very soft and sensual, but since he’s younger here i think it’s still in his ‘i need to jerk off everyday to get by’ phase. lol. so sometimes he can get a bit too rough, just tell him though and he’ll feel so bad.

— speaking of jerking off.. he likes blowjobs..? he does, but he just prefers the feeling of your hands on his cock. so small and cute, the uncertainty on your face- wondering if you’re doing it right or not. the thought of that alone is enough to make him cum, seriously.

— praise him as you jerk him off and he’ll do whatever you want; so serious. tell him he’s doing just so good for you, and he’ll cum, just like that.

— though the look on your face and your lips wrapped around his cock are cute too! whatever you’re in the mood for. especially if you’re under a desk or something erotic like that.

— here he’d be inexperienced in eating pussy. but he’ll do it. and after a few times he ends up just loving it. your body squirming? the noises? you’re gonna be the death of him.

— has stupid fantasies like doing it in the library. or in a bathroom stall. somewhere a little public. just a little. he wouldn’t do it unless you suggested it though and even then he’d be nervous.

— he’s much more open to doing things and would even recommend some! unlike when he’s older where he knows what he wants.

— rewarding him with sex after a big game or an important test of some sorts, does in fact work. sure you guys can have sex anytime, but the feeling that he’s earned it from you? yeah, that gets him up.

[tiramissyoucake]

Bimbo doll

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI, Satoru gojo x reader, all characters are 18+, reader is heavily bimbo coded and loves pink, satoru's gross here, 1.3k words approx

CW: Masturbation, satoru gets horny over reader sending him pics of her dresses, satoru has fantasies of reader and she's unaware, again satoru is gross here you've been warned, some proof reading but very little

Notes: I'm so sleepy and I'm too lazy to fix any other mistakes so if you see mistake no you didnt. had to write sth for Satoru, as wit all of my creative works I hate this but I hope u like it though!!

Satoru thinks you're absolutely adorable. From the moment he was blinded by the absurd amount of pink you were wearing, he thought you were the cutest thing on this planet. The coordinated color palettes of your clothes that always had a splash of pink, that shiny layer of gloss on your lips that you regularly reapplied, he gets so happy when he hears the clack of keychains because that means you're near.

Of course he couldn't keep himself away and you both exchanged numbers at one point, you gladly gave it to him after he shot you a lame pick up line— to which you laughed and smiled, simply telling him "you're funny! Sure!"It was almost too good to be true.

You got along well with each other, you both liked sweets, complimented each other's fashion sense, shared a similar sense of humour— when satoru asked you to describe him, you told him that you love being around him because he's fun (you said something about how he 'gets it', a quote about girls.. getting it and others not getting it..? He didn't understand, but he deduced that you like him, and that's all that matters.)

Satoru notices you love sharing tidbits of your day, and most of the time, you usually share a photo related to it in some way along with multiple typos, abbreviations, and emoticons.

"(Name)💘: Toru omg look at these shoes! Super cute right :3" Attached image sent.

"(Name)💘: I went 2 that cafe u told me, the strawberry shortcake is soooo good" Attached image sent.

"(Name)💘: I have 2 go 2 a party tonite, which dress should i choose!1!!??" 4 images sent.

Being friends with you had its benefits, you were comfortable with Satoru, so comfortable that he almost dropped his phone when he opened the images you sent; all of them were minidresses, all of them different shades of pink, all of them hugging your figure so tightly and snuggly he was tempted to stalk your social media to know where this party is.

He couldn't see the details that differentiated each dress, or at least he didn't focus on them as he felt his cock throb in his sweatpants.

"Ooooohhhhhfffuuck..." he mumbled longly to no one in particular, Satoru almost choked on his spit as he sat up from his position in his bed, all the heat rushing to his face as he examined your photos closely. Your poses so cute as you stared at your phone screen in the photos with a small pout, you had the pretty sparkly gloss on this time, that's his favorite..

(Name)💘: TORU OMFG PLZ ANSWEERRRR MY RIDES ALMOST HERE >:(

he almost forgot your little dilemma.

"Sorry lol I was eating, go with this one!!" he forwarded one of the four dresses with his response and sent his text, he felt guilty about lying but what was he supposed to say? 'My bad! You were so hot I got a little hard like some Virgin!' No way in hell.

You answered back quickly, how did you type quicker than he did with nails longer than his? He has a hunch it's because you don't care about typos but the dedication is admirable.

(Name)💘: TGANK UUUUU ill text u after the party!

(Name)💘: thank* lol

He let out a small laugh at your typo, scrolling back to the photos he zoomed in on one of the four he hadn't picked, and the reason why he didn't choose this dress is that he knows no sane rational person with a sexual libido would be able to resist you in this.

You looked so cute, so perfect, Satoru let out a small sigh as he pulled his dick out of his pants hissing at the cold air, his thumb smeared the precum over his tip. He should feel bad– terrible even, but how can he resist? There's no way you have no idea what you do to him, he tried justifying in his mind as his cock throbbed desperately in his hand.

Biting his bottom lip, the image of you in his phone fueled his imagination as he envisioned arriving with you at this party you mentioned, having such a pretty thing like you on his arm would be a major ego boost too. The length of your dress could easily allow him to pull down your panties (did you even have a pair on under that dress?), bend you over the host's bathroom sink and slam his cock balls deep inside you, relentlessly filling you then demanding you to pull your panties back up and come back to the party with him as his cum would be dripping between your thighs.

As Satoru bucked his hips up into his hand, he stopped briefly to spit into his hand, deciding there's no time to look for lube, he went back to fucking his hand to the thought of you. If only you knew your new friend got off to these innocent pictures you sent him, if only you knew what he wanted to do to you– he's confident you wouldn't wanna be friends anymore. Shaking his head he pushed aside those thoughts and focused on his current pleasure, his fantasy, his goal of cumming from the pictures of you in those dresses you handpicked to show him.

He mumbled words of encouragement as if you were there with him right now bouncing on his dick instead of the reality of his hand moving up and down, mutters of 'good girl's and praises like "so good, baby" and "yeah? You like that?", desperate to convince himself of his fantasy. Satoru tossed aside his phone long ago after making sure the photos were engraved in his mind, he wasn't expecting you to update him until sometime near midnight.

his eyes closed as his other hand slid up his stomach pushing up the material of his shirt until it reached his collarbone, his fingers trying to find any weak points on his body to rub, pinch or entice as his hand rubbed his dick to the pace of his imaginary storyline; where he dreamed of driving you back home and stuffing you full of his cock until the only word that was in your vocabulary was his name.

"Yesyesyes, (Name)..! Mmmmmhffuck..!" He groaned out as he felt his end near already, his face warming up to a soft reddish pink reminiscent of the tip of his dick as he fucked his hand, soft gasps and groans escaped him as he imagined all the filthy things he could do to you, all the filthy things he wanted to know about you.

What type of panties do you always wear? What type of men make you horny? Who have you been with? Would you let him fuck you? 'Please lemme fuck you, lemme fuck you..! Wanna fuck you..!'

The vulgarity of his desperation made him blush but brought him dangerously close to the edge, squeezing the base of his cock Satoru covered his mouth instinctively, he bucked up his hips as his cum coated his abdomen, stomach and some droplets even reached his chest. He moaned behind his hand as he felt the waves of pleasure shock through his body. He slowed his hips, mumbling for the imaginary you once more. "Take it, take it all, baby.."

He didn't want to move, he knew he had to but he wanted to relish in his fantasy a little longer, he wanted to pull you close and sloppily kiss your cute glossy lips and praise you for being a good girl, taking his load like that. He imagined his cum oozing from your slit but he wouldn't let it go to waste, he'd use his finger to slide it back in where he knows it belongs.

He remembered to save those photos for.. 'next time', reaching over to get his phone, he paused as he received a notification.

(Name)💘: party was lame, coming 2 ur place!! >:3c

Sitting up, the sweat that collected at his back from his 'session' cooled him off, he cleaned himself up and couldn't help but grin at your adorable message.

You don't need to worry, he'll entertain you more than any dumb party could.

[fatehbaz]

I'm very interested in tidalectics, I hadn't seen the word before finding your blog but from what I can find it seems very much up my alley. Is there anything you'd recommend reading for an introduction?

I use 'tidalectics' as a sort of shorthand for a constellation or archipelago (pun intended, lol) of related concepts maybe better described as 'archipelagic thinking' and 'poetics of Relation' by Edouard Glissant, 'repeating islands' by Benitez-Rojo/Brathwaite, and 'sea of islands' by Epeli Hau'ofa. I also use it for related things like Black Atlantic, 'Caribbeanist' thinking, 'oceanic thinking,' transnationalism, 'intimacies of four continents,' etc. Much of this deeply, deeply connected to Afro-Caribbean thinking and literature. Unsurprisingly. Comes up often in discussion of eco-poetics and the postcolonial. This discussion is kinda becoming vogue in environmental humanities ('blue humanities' and critical geography) and postcolonial studies, but this has of course been discussed for years and years and years by Caribbean and Pacific scholars, especially Glissant (Martinican/Caribbean), Brathwaite (Barbadian/Caribbean), Cesaire (Caribbean), and Hau'ofa (Tonga/Fiji/Pacific).

The Caribbean(ist) journal Small Axe has also been a big arena for discussing the concept. Two of my fave authors on colonial histories and multispecies ethnographies, Sujit Sivasundaram and Elizabeth DeLoughrey, also focus on oceanic/archipelagic thinking. Highly recommend those two. Another, Lizabeth Paravisini-Gebert, also covers Caribbean eco-poetics and frequently describes archipelagic thinking in accessible ways. You can search their names/publications for articles to read online. (Macarena Gomez-Barris--author of The Extractive Zone: Social Ecologies and Decolonial Perspectives--is currently working on a text about "fluidity of colonial transits and the generative space between land and sea.)

Heavily involves what you could describe as 'emotional ecologies' or 'environmental perception.' About the fluidity of tidal zones, the sea, mangroves, estuaries, deltas, seasonally flooded rivers. Very much about materiality of land/water/bodies, but also very much about imaginative place-making and belonging-in-space. Invokes centrality of ecology to place-making and identity. How these landscapes (tidal, seasonal, fluctuating, flowing) transcend, subvert, defy, exist beyond nation-state borders and bounded properties. Also implies transnational shared concerns of people inhabiting sacrifice zones and imperial peripheries (from Caribbean to Fiji to Philippines).

As intro, maybe:

Routes and Roots: Navigating Caribbean and Pacific Island Literatures (Elizabetth DeLoughrey), especially introduction chapter: "Tidalectics: Navigating Repeating Islands"

"Toward a Critical Ocean Studies for the Anthropocene" (Elizabeth DeLoughrey, English Language Notes 57:1, 2019)

"The Political Ecology of Storms in Caribbean Literature" (Sharae Deckard, The Caribbean: Aesthetics, World-Ecology, Politics, 2016)

At this blog, I've previously tried to summarize it by condensing excerpts here: DeLoughrey's "Submarine Futures"; Paravisini-Gebert's Caribbean eco-poetics of extinction; archipelagic thinking in South Pacific; Harney, Moten, and Sandra Ruiz discussing archipelagic and continental thinking; oceanic fugitivity and "thinking at the land-water boundary" in Hawaii; the "horror of the sea" and "environmental histories of colonialism" compared in Caribbean vs. English/US lit; the "hurricane does not roar in pentameter," poetics of storms, and "special geography of the Caribbean" which provides an overview of Caribbean writers on relation; the "Black Mediterranean" and contemporary archieplagic thinking relating to refugees/migration (a lot more too, but can't go through archives where I'm stuck right now).

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Also has come to be provocative framework for thinking about non-literal islands. You'll see 'archipelago' also applied to other spatial and ideological formation things like 'carceral archipelagoes' and 'plantation archipelagos' and 'poverty archipelagos.' Basically, that US-European empire treated the Caribbean as a laboratory for how to isolate, contain, extract, commodify, and experiment on people, labor, land, industry, ecologies, etc. during instantiation of 'modernity.' (While Spain and Portgual played around with this in the Caribbean they also did something similar in the early modern spice gardens and ports of Southeast Asia, while Britain/France/US continued similar in both regions too. So archipelagos of both 'East' and 'West' brutalized.) Added weight because British and then later US naval force understood and capitalized on importance of oceanic networks to maintaining global empire (think British Navy; Lisa Lowe's writing on Britain importing Chinese and South Asian laborers to Caribbean during technical abolition of chattel slavery; US building Panama Canal; US naval force in twentieth century linking Philippines, Hawaii, Panama, Puerto Rico). You might've seen me talk about Kuntala Lahiri-Dutt and others writing on the history of British takeover of Bengal 1780s-1850s, and how the seasonality and deltas and rivers frustrated imperial attempts to fix and tax property; Elizabeth Povinelli describes this process of colonial fixation of 'solid' land in Northern Territory in Australia, too.

And these forms persist in extractivist settings and spatiality of labor, incarceration, industrial sites. Think Cancer Alley in Louisiana; archipelagos of Southeast Asian, West African, or Brazilian plantations along corridors of highways and railroads; low-income residential neighborhoods or 'workforce' housing compartmentalized along transportation corridors near logistics nodes; prisons in upstate New York; Commencement Bay's industrial sites and immigrant detention in Seattle-Tacoma, etc. Like hotspots or blinking lights along corridor. Australia, the US, and the EU all still use islands for migrant detention. At the same time, if global empire yokes together East and West, then empire's malcontents can perform the same trick. You can look at correspondences and writing from colonial subjects and radicals in like 1890s who explicitly described how anticolonial actors could and should also invoke transnational networks. (Linking networks in Buenos Aires, Havana, Los Angeles, Barcelona, Paris, Cairo, Istanbul, Tokyo, etc. And today still, too. Archipelagos of cooperation, not just on islands. What happens in a housing commune in Athens is related to movements in Puerto Rico, connected by defiance of same empire, market, capital, etc.

So since at least 1500-ish, 'globalized' world(s) involve circuits, networks, routes, often mediated by the sea. But people living on islands often have relationship with that sea long predating modernity. Glissant and others talk about a submarine/subterranean connecting tissue between islands, so that, even if they are apparently physically isolated or separated by Hispanophone/Francophone linguistic tradition, there is something akin, shared, in common.

But more than that: Relationality and relation to landscape asserts agency, autonomy, belonging. Especially with Glissant, this involves language, poetics, translation, reclamation of 'submarine' histories. Hau'ofa says "we are the ocean."

Maybe reminiscent of Indigenous resurgence, constellations of resistance, fugitivity, opacity/refusal, pedagogies of deep listening, maroons/marronage, resonances, and writers like Harney and Moten, Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, Achille Mbembe, Katherine McKittrick, Sylvia Wynter, Dixa Ramirez D'Oleo, and others.

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Anyway, four classics:

The Arrivants: A New World Trilogy (Rights of Passage; Islands; Masks) (Kamau Brathwaite, 1973)

The Repeating Island: The Caribbean and the Postmodern Perspective (Antonio Beniteze-Rojo, 1989)

The Archipelago Conversations (Eduoard Glissant and Hans Ulrich Obrist, 2021)

We Are the Ocean: Selected Works (Epeli Hau'ofa, 2008)

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And some others:

"Submarine Futures of the Anthropocene" (Elizabeth DeLoughrey, Comparative Literature 69:1, 2017)

Waves Across the South: A New History of Revolution and Empire (Sujit Sivasundaram, 2021)

"Archipelagic Interiority: Notes and Reflections on Poetic Voice and Trans Writing in the Philippines" (shane carreon, Kohl 9:1 Special Issue: Anticolonial Feminist Imaginaries, 2023)

"On the Unfolding of Edouard Glissant's Archipelagic Thought" (Michael Wiedorn, Karib-Nordic Journal for Caribbean Studies 6:1, 2021)

"Wet Ontologies, Fluid Spaces: Giving Depth to Volume through Oceanic Thinking" (Philip Steinberg and Kimberley Peters, Environment and Planning D: Society and Space 33:2, 2015)

"New Materialisms, Old Humanisms, or, Following the Submersible" (Stacy Alaimo, NORA-Nordic Journal of Feminist and Gender Research)

"Sensing Grounds: Mangroves, Unauthentic Belonging, Extra-Territoriality" (Natasha Ginwala and Vivian Ziheri, e-flux Journal Issue #45, May 2013)

"Storied Seas and Living Metaphors in the Blue Humanities" (Serpil Oppermann, Configurations 27:4, 2019) and Blue Humanities: Storied Waterscapes in the Anthropocene (Edited by Serpil Oppermann, 2023)

Hydrofeminist Thinking with Oceans: Political and Scholarly Possibilities (Edited by Tamara Shefer, Vivenne Bozalek, and Nike Romano, 2024)

"From the black Atlantic to the bleak Pacific: Re-reading "Benito Cereno"" (Alexandra Ganser, Atlantic Studies 15:2, 2018)

"Literary Ecologies of the Indian Ocean" (Hofmeyer, English Studies in Africa 62:1, 2019)

"Archipelagic Readings: towards a Poetics of Creolization" (Hugues Azerad, Trans-Revue de litterature generale et comparee, Special Issue: Insularities/Archipelagos, 2020)

"Water Enclosure and World-Literature: New Perspectives on Hydro-Power and World-Ecology" (Campbell and Paye, Humanities 9:106, 2020)

"A Poetics of Planetary Water: The Blue Humanities after John Gillis" (Sidney Mentz, Coastal Studies and Society, 2022)

"Tending the Forests Beneath Anthropocene Seas" (Williams and Zalasiewicz, in Oceans Rising: A Companion to Territorial Agency: Oceans in Transformation, 2022)

"Caribbean Archipelagos and Mainlands: Building Resistance against Climate Change" (Lizabeth Paravisini-Gebert, The Black Scholar 51:2, 2021)

Colonial Phantoms: Belonging and Refusal in the Dominican Americas, from the 19th Century to the Present (Dixa Ramirez D'Oleo, 2018)

"Oceanic Routes: (Post-it) Notes on Hydro-Colonialism" (Bystrom and Hofmeyer, Comparative Literature 69:1, 2017)

"Foreword: Ocean Space and the Marine Social Sciences" (McKinley, in The Routledge Handbook of Ocean Space, 2023)

"Atomic histories and elemental futures across Indigenous waters" (Hi'ilei Julia Hobart, Media + Environment 3:1, 2021)

"On Oceanic Fugitivity" (Hi'ilei Julia Hobart, Ways of Water series by Social Science Research Council, 2020)

Undrowned: Black Feminist Lessons from Marine Mammals (Alexis Pauline Gumbs, 2020)

"Materialities in the Making of World Histories: South Asia and the South Pacific" (Sujit Sivasundaram, Oxford Handbook of History and Material Culture: World Perspectives, 2020)

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Thanks, take care.