#without profound changes of character

[back-of-the-dodo]

started watching mha again and I’ve realized that I prefer fan content where you can tell the creator likes bkdk?? like bkdk isn’t my main so I like them platonic but I don’t know if it’s the inherent trust I have w/ them or if bkdk shippers just understand mha way better than everyone else

[chowadoe]

my Metamy kid!! his name is Dusty Rose :D ft. single mom Amy Rose and Absentee baby daddy metal sonic LOL

his name's Dusty Rose after Dusty Miller, a plant that looks like metal/silver. Dusty Rose is also a pink color ! it also rhymes with Rusty Rose. im so smart (/j)

born from Metal Sonic's core and infused with Amy's biosignature, Amy and Metal Sonic had a very brief 'thing'... eventually Metal Sonic was soft rebooted and sent away yet again, but he left a piece of himself (part of his 'core'? infused with chaos energy..?) to Amy, which then became Dusty. leaving Dusty as the last true remaining testament of their love

(I just love the idea of Amy with a Waitress style character arc... finding love again in raising her child and not the way she used to think, being spent with another person)

Dusty would be very fixated on the idea of love, after all his mother raised him on the notion of that. Amy's standards for true love and fairytale romance have definitely changed being with Metal Sonic, but the root message being that love is all encompassing and transformative.

He was 'created' to look like Mobian, and Amy treats him no differently than any other Mobian/human. Still, he believes that he should hide all the parts that 'other' him from society, which means his robot parts. (legwarmers!)

He's got a bit of a bad boy edge to him LOLLL i kind of created him that he'd be an emo kid. (fall out boy.. my chemical romance.. a bit of IDKHow) really good at electric guitar and part of a band. eventually he finds his passion is in lyric-writing (all those love stories and inheriting his mother's gift for writing love letters)

he often wonders what a beating heart is like, as someone without one. he's interested in the heartbeats and the pulses of others, but he is a total sweetheart himself.. still, even to other mobians unaware that he is an android (a weapon at that), it's still a little off-putting..

more abt him belolow

Dusty's core is already made/designed after Amy's biosignature, and in meeting other people, he's able to read their biodata and stash it into an archive, but he doesn't reproduce it onto himself. (though unsure if he could? either his code has a blockade or he chooses not to)

Dusty, additional to his stash of weapons, has the ability to shift too like his papa... become something similar to Metal Overlord but not entirely... like a half robot dragon boy or smth.. IF he's under the right conditions to have it pulled out of him. or something

Dusty DOES "grow" up. basically, he's an inorganic being whose core is trying to emulate/copy the growth progression of other organic beings.

As it would grow in size (and Dusty's cognition "matures"), his mother and her friends would modify as needed to adjust his frame, etc, but rarely were things ever replaced. Like a mollusk, its shell growing in size- but one needing accommodations. A heart bigger than its own body that threatens to spill- a chick that has outgrown its shell, well before its expected date- needing modifications to keep it inside and protected

Metal Sonic and Amy would have something profound-- one of those tragic, star-crossed enemies-to-lovers dark fantasy romance stories Amy's always loved to read about- but then having it play in real time and having to come to terms with the real world implications of actually having one. It's just that- a fantasy. and metal sonic would grapple with the ideas of love, which i think would be inherently dark and a little possessive given his upbringing-- but what him and Amy have would be sweet at the very core of it. so him giving a piece of his core that reads and adapts to Amy's biosignature and oops... accidental baby....

Dusty finds himself drawn to music. his mom and dad couldn't quite communicate love language physically (with Metal Sonic's claws and his lack of mouth) so I hc that Amy taught Metal Sonic how to hum and sing and communicate their love through music and vocalizations (which carried onto Dusty)

4th pic is Dusty doing breathing exercises with his mama... Dusty gets embarrassed super easily so him and Amy would regularly do breathing exercises so he doesn't overheat like a PC

[jhyoos]

Of Roses And Steel

chapter one : where roses bloom

knight sevika x princess reader

mentions : royalty au, medieval au, romance, strong reader (as in combat and intelligence), silco is king, reader is a heavy daddy’s girl, silco being soft around her daughter, sevika is only 5 years older than you, major character deaths, very long first chapter !

notes : let me know if you guys like the small text or should I go back to bigger words. another chapter will be released tomorrow!

↳ next chapter

The night of the queen’s death remained seared into your memory like a jagged scar, a moment that altered the course of your life—and the kingdom—forever.

Your mother had always been the kingdom’s heart, her kindness radiating like the sun, touching the lives of every villager, knight, and noble. She possessed an innate gift for seeing the good in people, even when they couldn't see it in themselves. When she had married your father, her warmth had melted away the rougher edges of Silco, a man who was once feared for his ruthlessness.

Before her, Silco’s reign had been efficient but cold, his focus solely on maintaining power and expanding the kingdom's borders. But with the queen by his side, something shifted. She softened him, guiding him to rule with compassion as well as strength. Under her influence, roads were built, trade flourished, and the kingdom prospered. When you were born, the union of their love, Silco seemed to find an even deeper purpose. He adored you from the moment he held you in his arms, his mismatched eyes filled with awe.

“She’s perfect,” he’d whispered to the queen, who smiled through her exhaustion. “Just like her mother.”

Your early years were filled with laughter and warmth. Your mother would sing to you in the mornings while brushing your hair, and Silco, despite his busy schedule, would often sneak away from his duties to spend time with you. He read you bedtime stories, his deep voice weaving tales of adventure and bravery. You were his reason to rule with integrity, his reminder that the kingdom’s future depended on more than power—it depended on love.

But everything changed the day your mother decided to visit the village alone.

You were six years old, clinging to her skirts as she prepared to leave.

“Must you go?” you asked, your voice small and pleading.

She knelt before you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I must,” she said gently. “The children in the village are sick, and they need help. But I won’t be long, my love. I’ll be back before the sun sets.”

She kissed your forehead, her smile warm and reassuring, and then she was gone. You spent the rest of the day waiting by the window, watching as the sun dipped lower and lower in the sky.

When the sun finally set and she had not returned, unease settled over the castle like a heavy fog. It was Sevika—then a young squire barely in her teens—who came running into the throne room with the news. Her face was pale, her breath coming in short gasps as she fell to one knee before Silco.

“Your Majesty,” she said, her voice trembling. “There’s been… an attack. The queen—she—”

Silco rose from his throne, his voice cutting through her stammering like a blade. “What happened?”

“She was ambushed,” Sevika managed, her hands clenched into fists. “A group of thieves—they didn’t know who she was. She fought back, but…” Her voice broke, and she couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

Silco didn’t need her to. The look in his eyes was enough to send a shiver through the room, a mix of fury and anguish so profound it was almost unbearable to witness. He left the throne room without another word, his footsteps echoing through the silent hall.

The days that followed were marked by grief and silence. Silco locked himself away, emerging only for the queen’s funeral. You remembered the way he stood by her casket, his shoulders rigid, his mismatched eyes devoid of the warmth they once held. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse but steady.

“She was too good for this world,” he said, his gaze fixed on her peaceful face. “But I will ensure her legacy lives on.”

He turned his focus to you, doubling down on his efforts to keep you safe. Guards followed you everywhere, even within the castle walls. He forbade you from going into the village, insisting it was too dangerous. His love became suffocating, a cage built from his fear of losing you as he had lost her.

You grew up under the shadow of that fear, but you refused to let it define you. Determined to honor your mother’s memory, you threw yourself into your studies, mastering everything from diplomacy to combat. Your father disapproved of your training, insisting that the daughter of a king had no need for swords or bows. But you persisted, finding solace in the discipline and focus it required.

It wasn’t until you were sixteen that you truly began to make a name for yourself among the knights. One of the senior knights, impressed by your determination, arranged for you to train with Sevika, who had recently returned to the castle after years spent serving on the borders.

Sevika was in her early twenties then, already gaining a reputation as a skilled and fearless warrior. She had a scar running down the side of her face, a mark of the battle that had earned her the rank of head knight. She rarely spoke, her focus entirely on her duties, but when she did, her words carried weight.

Your first session with her was a turning point. She showed you how to hold a bow, correcting your posture and guiding your hands with a gruff patience you hadn’t expected. “Don’t overthink it,” she said, her voice low and steady. “Just breathe and let the arrow fly.”

For a brief moment, you saw a softer side of her, a flicker of something almost kind beneath her stoic exterior. It was enough to make your heart flutter, a feeling you didn’t entirely understand at the time.

From then on, your crush on Sevika only grew, fueled by fleeting moments of warmth amidst her cold professionalism. She was everything you admired: strong, capable, and unyielding. But she was also distant, her loyalty to your father a wall you doubted you’d ever be able to breach.

You were every bit the spoiled princess, and you made no apologies for it. Your wardrobe was filled with the finest gowns in silks, satins, and velvets, each more extravagant than the last. Shoes adorned with delicate embroidery and shimmering jewels lined your chambers, matched meticulously to every ensemble. The maids who styled your hair each morning knew your tastes well—tight curls for formal occasions, elegant braids when you ventured to court, and soft waves for quiet evenings spent reading in your chambers. It was a life of luxury and ease, one that you embraced wholeheartedly.

Your favorite moments, however, were the hours spent with your ladies-in-waiting. Gathered in the sunlit parlor, the scent of freshly brewed tea mingling with the fragrance of blooming flowers, you would sit for hours, gossiping and laughing with your closest confidantes. Together, you exchanged stories, whispered secrets, and speculated about the various knights, courtiers, and even the visiting nobility. You didn’t shy away from discussing the beauty of the women who graced the castle halls, often causing a ripple of giggles among your companions when your admiration turned bold.

Through it all, there was one secret you kept entirely to yourself: your growing infatuation with Sevika. It wasn’t the kind of crush you could casually admit during tea or in the middle of idle chatter. Sevika’s cold professionalism and the unyielding strength she displayed as the head knight made her a figure of both admiration and intimidation. Her rare moments of warmth toward you—brief, fleeting instances where she adjusted your grip on a bow or gave a quiet word of approval—were treasures you tucked away in your heart, replaying them long after they passed.

But secrets have a way of surfacing, and yours was no exception. One lazy afternoon, as Mel helped you reorganize your chambers, she discovered a bundle of papers hidden beneath your bed. They were scraps of poetry and unsent letters, scrawled confessions of your feelings for Sevika. Mel’s gasp of surprise as she read them turned your blood cold. You tried to snatch them away, but it was too late—she knew. Her teasing smirk was almost unbearable as she leaned against your bedpost, waving the papers at you.

“Sevika?” she drawled, one perfectly arched brow lifting in amusement. “You’re in love with her?” Mel, ever the quick-witted daughter of a noblewoman, didn’t let you live it down easily. Though she was sworn to secrecy, she took great delight in teasing you about your unspoken feelings, often poking fun at how flustered you became whenever Sevika was nearby. Despite your embarrassment, there was a part of you that found comfort in sharing your secret with someone, even if Mel’s constant smirking made you regret it at times.

The dining hall was bathed in warm candlelight, the long table laden with golden platters of roasted meats, fruits, and delicacies from across the kingdom. Laughter and chatter filled the room, and for a brief moment, everything felt peaceful. You sat at your father’s right hand, the place of honor, dressed in a gown of soft lavender silk. The fabric shimmered with each movement, the embroidery catching the flickering light. Around you, nobles toasted to victories, knights traded boasts, and your ladies-in-waiting whispered behind their hands, no doubt commenting on which of the lords appeared most eligible.

You entertained their murmurs with a polite smile, but your focus drifted to the heavy doors of the hall. You noticed them before they opened, as if instinctively sensing Sevika’s arrival. She stepped inside, her boots echoing against the stone floor. She wasn’t in her usual armor but a simpler, dark tunic and breeches, though her presence alone was as commanding as any battle regalia. She moved with purpose, her scarred face set in a grim line.

“Sevika,” Silco called, his voice cutting through the noise. The room fell silent as she approached the king, bowing her head slightly.

“Apologies for the interruption, Your Majesty,” she said, her voice low but carrying easily through the hall. “There’s news from the gates.”

The room seemed to hold its breath. Silco’s eyes narrowed, his wineglass forgotten in his hand. “Speak.”

“The monsters at the borders are escalating their attacks,” Sevika began. “They’re not just striking in waves anymore. It’s constant now. The knights are struggling to keep them contained, and we’re losing ground. Reports suggest their numbers are too great for our current defenses.”

A murmur rippled through the assembled nobles. Silco’s grip on his goblet tightened before he set it down with a sharp clink. “And the commanders? Have they devised a solution?”

Sevika hesitated, her silence answering for her. Finally, she said, “No. They’re holding the line, but we’re losing too many. We need to regroup and rethink our approach.”

Silco’s jaw tightened, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames of the chandelier above. Then, decisively, he pushed back his chair and stood. “I’ll go to the gates myself. I need to see this for myself and consult with the commanders directly.”

You didn’t think—you simply acted. Rising from your seat as Silco and Sevika left the dining hall, you followed them into the dimly lit corridor. Your silk skirts swished as you hurried after them, your jeweled slippers clicking softly against the stone floor. You reached the shadows just in time to overhear Silco’s voice.

“I’ll leave at dawn with the first battalion,” he said. “The reports alone aren’t enough. If this is as dire as it seems, I need to see it myself. There’s no room for error.”

“Understood,” Sevika replied. “But it’s a risk. The journey to the walls is dangerous, especially with the creatures lurking along the roads.”

“I’ll take that risk,” Silco said firmly. “The kingdom’s stability depends on it. If we don’t act now, there won’t be a kingdom left to protect.”

“Father!” Your voice rang out before you could stop yourself. They turned, surprise flashing across Silco’s face before his expression hardened.

“This doesn’t concern you,” he said, his tone sharp but not unkind.

“It concerns me when you’re talking about putting yourself in danger,” you countered, stepping closer. “You can’t just leave. What if something happens to you?”

Silco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t up for debate, child. I need to go. I won’t make the same mistakes as before by sitting idle.”

Your chest tightened, and the memory of your mother’s final words hit you like a blade. “The last time someone told me they’d come back, they didn’t,” you said, your voice breaking. “She promised me, and she never came home. How can you ask me to watch you walk out that same door and pretend it’s fine?”

Silco’s expression softened, though the steel in his resolve remained. He placed a hand on your shoulder, his mismatched eyes meeting yours. “I understand your fear,” he said quietly. “But I have a duty to this kingdom—and to you. If I don’t go, the threat will only grow worse. You’re stronger than you think, and I’ll return. I promise.”

Before you could respond, Sevika stepped forward, her presence grounding the moment. “He’s right,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind. “Your father’s not reckless. He’ll have me and the best knights in the kingdom with him. You don’t need to worry.”

Her words, though meant to reassure, did little to ease the ache in your chest. You looked between them, fighting the tears welling in your eyes. Finally, you nodded, though the knot of unease remained.

As they turned to leave, you stood alone in the corridor, your hands clenched at your sides. The weight of their footsteps faded, leaving only the faint flicker of torchlight and the hollow echo of your thoughts.

The next morning, you woke to the sound of hurried footsteps and quiet murmurs just beyond your door. The servants were already at work, preparing for your father’s departure. Their shuffling echoed in the hallway as they polished the portraits, hung banners in the kingdom’s colors, and arranged the grand send-off for the king. A knot formed in your chest as the realization settled—he was really leaving.

When your maids entered, they didn’t need to speak to know you were already awake. They moved with gentle precision, draping you in a gown of deep crimson, black, and silver. The silk hugged your frame, the silver embroidery catching the faint morning light. Your hair was styled intricately, each strand woven into a braid that they adorned with silver pins shaped like roses. They murmured compliments, but you barely heard them, your thoughts elsewhere.

As soon as they were done, you hurried to the throne room, your stomach twisting with each step. When you entered, the sight of your father nearly stole your breath.

Silco stood at the base of his throne, dressed in armor that seemed more fitting for a king from a storybook than the man you’d grown up with. The polished silver breastplate bore the royal crest, its sharp lines gleaming under the golden light of the chandeliers. A long crimson cape hung from his shoulders, draping elegantly to the floor. At his side rested a sword with a gilded hilt, its weight a reminder of the battle he was about to face.

You didn’t speak at first, your throat tight with the effort to hold yourself together. But when he saw you, his expression softened. For just a moment, the weight of his responsibility lifted, and he looked at you not as a king but as a father.

You crossed the room quickly, wrapping your arms around him in a fierce embrace. He stiffened, surprised, before his arms came around you, holding you as tightly as you held him. His armor was cold against your cheek, but you didn’t care.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice trembling, “be safe. I love you, Father.”

His grip tightened, his hand brushing the back of your head. “I love you too,” he said, his voice low and filled with something you rarely heard—uncertainty. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his mismatched eyes searching your face. “You’ve grown so much,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Every time I look at you, I see your mother. Her strength, her heart… I hope you know how proud I am of you.”

Your throat burned as tears welled in your eyes. “Then don’t go,” you pleaded softly, your voice breaking. “Please, Father. I can’t lose you, too. I can’t…”

He cupped your face with one hand, his calloused thumb brushing away a tear that slipped down your cheek. “I have to, my love,” he said, his voice steady despite the sorrow in his eyes. “This kingdom needs me. And more than that, it needs you. You’re stronger than you think—you always have been.”

His words were meant to reassure you, but they only made the ache in your chest worse. “Promise me,” you whispered. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

“I promise,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was lingering, full of the unspoken things he couldn’t bring himself to say. “You’ll see me again before you know it.”

You nodded, though the doubt remained, and reluctantly let him go. As he stepped back, you noticed Sevika standing near the doorway, watching the exchange silently.

You crossed the room to her, your steps hesitant but determined. She straightened when you approached, her expression unreadable.

“I need you to promise me,” you said, your voice firmer now, though your heart still raced. “Promise me you’ll bring him back safe.”

Sevika’s brow furrowed slightly, her usual coldness faltering for a moment. “I promise,” she said simply, her tone calm and even.

You narrowed your eyes, stepping closer until you could see the faint scar on her cheek. “No, Sevika. I’m being serious. I know you just see me as some spoiled princess, but I’m not. He’s all I have. Promise me for real.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she glanced briefly at your hand as it reached for hers. The warmth of your touch seemed to catch her off guard. For a moment, something flickered in her expression—something unspoken.

“I’ll protect him with my life, your highness,” Sevika said, her voice quieter this time. “He’ll come back. You have my word.”

You held her gaze for a long moment, searching for any sign of insincerity. But there was none. Finally, you let her hand go, your heart still heavy but steadied by her promise. As she turned to join your father, you watched them walk away, the ache in your chest growing with each step they took.

For now, all you could do was trust—and wait.

Days turned into weeks, each one heavier than the last as you anxiously awaited your father’s return. The castle felt hollow in his absence, the echo of his authoritative voice replaced by an unnerving silence that no amount of bustling servants or lively courtiers could fill. You tried to busy yourself with your routine, but nothing seemed to dull the ache in your chest.

Mel did her best to distract you, her endless ideas for entertainment failing to ease your worry. She often led you to the gardens, coaxing you to admire the blooming roses or walk among the neat hedgerows. She’d chatter about trivial things—her mother’s letters, the latest gossip among the ladies-in-waiting, or the prospect of an upcoming festival—but her words felt distant, like a hum in the background.

On some days, she’d take you to the nearby lake, where you’d lounge by a small boat anchored at the shore. The gentle lapping of the water against the wood, the songs of birds in the trees, and even Mel’s attempts to make you laugh with exaggerated tales of court drama couldn’t pull you from your thoughts. You were miserable.

The anxiety seeped into your nights, turning them restless. You woke more often than not in cold sweats, the remnants of nightmares clinging to you like a suffocating shroud. Dreams of your father not returning—or worse—haunted your sleep, leaving you too afraid to close your eyes again. You’d toss and turn, clutching the heavy blankets as though they could shield you from your fears.

It wasn’t long before you could no longer bear being alone at night. Mel, ever loyal, started sharing your bed, her presence offering a sliver of comfort. She’d hold your hand or hum softly, her voice lulling you into uneasy sleep. But even with her there, the nights felt unbearably long, and the ache in your chest only grew.

You missed your father. His commanding presence, his sharp words that were always tinged with an undercurrent of affection. No matter how stern he could be, he was your anchor, and his absence left you adrift.

And, though you hated to admit it, you missed Sevika too. Her presence lingered in your mind like a ghost. Even though her words were often clipped and dismissive, there had been something in the way she spoke to you that lit a fire within you. A rare spark of interest, a momentary pause that felt like a flicker of attention just for you.

Her aloofness only made her more enigmatic, her sharp gaze and blunt demeanor stirring feelings that you didn’t quite understand. You replayed your interactions with her over and over in your mind, from the sarcastic comments to the way she’d adjust your posture during archery. It wasn’t much, but to you, it was enough.

It was foolish to feel this way, you told yourself. She was the head knight, loyal to your father and bound by duty. She likely thought of you as nothing more than the king’s spoiled daughter, another responsibility on her long list of obligations.

And yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Each day that passed felt heavier than the last, the weight of your longing for both your father and Sevika pressing down on you. You clung to the hope that their return would bring relief, but until then, you were left to endure the suffocating stillness of the castle and the ache that refused to fade.

Mel, ever persistent in her attempts to lift your spirits, decided that simply resting by the lake was no longer enough. She wanted to give you a moment of true peace, something that might soothe the restlessness in your soul. With a few words to the castle staff, she arranged for a servant to row one of the small boats onto the still waters of the lake.

When the boat was ready, she guided you down to the shore. The late afternoon sun bathed the lake in a soft, golden glow, and the air was filled with the gentle hum of dragonflies and the occasional splash of fish breaking the surface. The sight was tranquil, almost idyllic, but your heart was still heavy.

Mel helped you onto the boat, her steady hand ensuring you didn’t slip on the polished wooden planks. You settled onto the cushioned seat, and as the boat pushed off from the shore, the rhythmic sound of the oars dipping into the water began to lull you into a state of calm.

You leaned against the edge of the boat, resting your head on your folded arm. The water was cool beneath your fingertips as you let your hand trail lazily through it, brushing against the occasional lily pad that floated by. The gentle sway of the boat and the soft rippling of the water were almost hypnotic. For the first time in weeks, you felt a fleeting sense of tranquility.

“If my father and Sevika come back…” you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt heavy on your tongue, like a confession you hadn’t intended to make. You glanced at your reflection in the water, your face distorted by the ripples. “I’ll actually obey him... and I’ll confess to Sevika about my feelings for her.”

The admission hung in the air, a vulnerable truth you hadn’t even fully admitted to yourself before.

Mel, sitting beside you, turned to look at you. Her usual sharp wit and playful banter were absent as she took in the sincerity of your words. After a moment, she smiled softly, a flicker of warmth and understanding in her expression.

“We’ll see about that, Your Majesty,” she said, her tone light but with a hint of skepticism.

You turned your head slightly to glance at her, catching the faint curve of her lips and the knowing glint in her eye. She didn’t press you further, didn’t tease or pry as she usually might. Instead, she simply leaned back in her seat, allowing you the space to lose yourself in your thoughts.

As the boat glided across the lake, the silence between you was comfortable. Mel’s presence was steady, a quiet reassurance that you weren’t entirely alone in your longing or your fears.

For now, you could allow yourself to hope.

The following week arrived quietly, marked by the same monotony that had filled the days since your father left. You were seated by your vanity, your servant brushing your hair in slow, careful strokes. The rhythmic tug of the bristles on your scalp was almost lulling, but your mind was elsewhere.

Then, a sound shattered the quiet—faint but unmistakable. The trumpets of the king’s arrival.

Your heart leaped in your chest as you sat up straight, the brush slipping from your servant’s hand. “Your Highness?” they asked, startled.

But you didn’t answer. Without hesitation, you jumped to your feet and ran to your balcony, the cool morning air rushing to greet you as you flung open the doors. The grand stone entrance of the castle stretched below you, and there he was—your father, dismounting his horse in a flurry of movement.

As though sensing your presence, his gaze lifted to meet yours. His face softened instantly, a warm smile spreading across his features. He lifted a hand and waved to you, and you couldn’t stop the answering grin that broke across your face.

“Father!” you called out, your voice carrying down to him.

Without a second thought, you spun around and hurried back into your chambers, your bare feet sliding slightly on the polished floors as you moved. You quickly grabbed your slippers, slipping them on clumsily.

“Your Highness, you’re still in your sleepwear—” your servant began, her voice tinged with concern as she reached for you.

“I don’t care!” you called over your shoulder, already halfway out the door.

Your heart raced as you darted through the halls, the familiar corridors blurring past you in your excitement. The heavy stone walls seemed brighter, the tapestries more colorful, as if the castle itself had come alive with his return. The sound of your footsteps echoed off the marble staircase as you descended, nearly stumbling in your haste.

When you finally reached the entrance, your father was just stepping down from his horse, his gloved hands steady as he handed the reins to a nearby stable hand. His cloak billowed slightly in the breeze, his regal presence commanding the attention of everyone around him.

“Father!” you called again, your voice breaking slightly from your breathless sprint.

He turned toward you, his expression shifting from one of composure to pure, unrestrained joy. The moment his eyes met yours, his arms opened wide, and you didn’t hesitate for a second. You closed the distance between you, throwing yourself into his embrace.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. His grip was firm, steady, and warm, grounding you in a way nothing else could.

“It feels like I’m seeing an angel,” he murmured, his voice low and full of emotion.

You buried your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and faint traces of ink from his correspondence. “I know... me too,” you replied, your voice muffled but no less sincere.

Silco finally pulled back from the embrace, his hands resting on your shoulders as he looked you over, his sharp eyes softening with affection. “Have you been well, my daughter?” he asked, his voice steady yet tinged with concern.

You nodded, though you hesitated before answering. “Yes, Father. I’ve kept up with my studies and my training... though I missed you terribly,” you admitted, your voice faltering slightly at the end.

His expression softened further, and he cupped your cheek with a gloved hand, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “I missed you as well. It was far too long to be away from my only child.”

As he spoke, you noticed the weight of exhaustion in his features—the faint lines of weariness etched into his face and the slight droop of his shoulders. Yet even so, there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes as he looked at you.

He stepped back, his posture straightening as he addressed not just you but the attendants and soldiers gathering around. His voice carried, commanding attention with its authority.

“My soldiers and I have returned victorious,” he announced, his tone filled with the subtle pride of a ruler who demanded respect but did not flaunt his power unnecessarily. “And such a triumph deserves celebration.”

Your heart skipped slightly at his words, and you couldn’t help the small smile that formed on your lips.

Silco continued, his gaze sweeping over the gathered servants and knights. “A feast will be held tonight in the Great Hall. Let it be a night of joy and gratitude for our success and the safety of our kingdom.”

The attendants and soldiers murmured their approval, the quiet hum of excitement rippling through the crowd.

He turned back to you, his expression softer once again. “And you, my child, will be at my side as the kingdom celebrates.”

“I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else,” you replied, your voice steady despite the excitement bubbling within you.

“Good,” he said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But first, you’ll need to prepare. I expect you to look every bit the queen you are destined to be. I trust Mel will see to it?”

You nodded quickly. “She will, Father. I’ll make sure everything is perfect.”

“Good,” Silco repeated, placing a hand on your shoulder briefly before turning to his steward to give further instructions about the preparations.

As the crowd began to disperse, Sevika stepped forward, her ever-stoic presence now standing close behind your father. Her sharp eyes glanced over you briefly before she addressed Silco. “I’ll ensure the knights are ready for the evening, Your Majesty,” she said, her tone curt and professional.

Silco nodded in approval, but before Sevika could leave, his gaze shifted back to you. “Sevika, see that my daughter gets back to her chambers safely. She shouldn’t be running through the halls like that again.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Sevika replied without hesitation.

Your father gave you one last affectionate glance before turning back to his advisors, leaving you standing there with Sevika.

“You heard him,” Sevika said gruffly, her tone laced with the usual edge of authority. “Let’s get you back to your chambers. Can’t have you causing another scene.”

You rolled your eyes slightly but complied, following her as she led the way back into the castle. Despite her sharp words, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort knowing she was there, her towering presence a reminder of both your safety and... something else you weren’t quite ready to admit.

As you and Sevika made your way back through the dimly lit halls of the castle, the cool stone beneath your feet and the drafty corridors sent a shiver down your spine. Without a word, Sevika unclasped her cloak and draped it around your shoulders, the heavy fabric engulfing you in warmth. Her movements were brisk and efficient, as if she had done this a hundred times before, yet the gesture left your cheeks warm in a way that had nothing to do with the cloak itself.

“Thank you,” you murmured, clutching the edges of the cloak tightly around yourself. The faint scent of leather and smoke lingered on the fabric, unmistakably hers.

Sevika gave a short nod, her gaze fixed ahead as the two of you continued walking. The rhythmic clink of her armor filled the silence, but your mind was elsewhere. You kept stealing glances at her, your heart thudding harder with each one. You wanted to speak, to finally confess the feelings you had held onto for so long. The words were right there, resting on the tip of your tongue.

But before you could summon the courage to open your mouth, Sevika’s voice cut through the silence, low and steady.

“Don’t run out in your nightgown again,” she said gruffly, not bothering to glance your way. “It’s quite transparent in the right lighting.”

You froze mid-step, your eyes widening as her words sank in. The warmth in your cheeks flared into a full blush, spreading down your neck as you quickly looked away, your hands instinctively tugging the cloak tighter around your body.

“I-I wasn’t thinking,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted to see my father.”

Sevika finally glanced at you, her sharp eyes briefly scanning your flustered expression before she huffed a soft, almost amused sigh. “That much was obvious.”

You felt your stomach twist with embarrassment, but there was something in her tone—a faint trace of humor, perhaps—that eased the sting of her bluntness.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time,” you muttered, your gaze fixed firmly on the stone floor as you walked.

“See that you do,” Sevika replied, her voice returning to its usual sternness. “You may be the king’s daughter, but you’re not above common sense.”

Her words stung, but there was no malice in them, only the no-nonsense practicality that defined her. Still, your heart ached as you realized how far away your confession still felt. How could you possibly tell someone like her—so composed, so seemingly unimpressed by you—what you truly felt?

As you neared your chambers, the weight of the unspoken words pressed heavily on your chest. For now, you would settle for the warmth of her cloak and the fleeting moments of attention she gave you, even if they were laced with sternness.

The feast was a spectacle of grandeur. With Mel and a team of diligent servants, you were adorned in your finest jewels, your hair styled to perfection, and the shimmering gown hugging your frame like it was made of starlight itself. The dress—delicate and intricate, like spun silver—glittered under the candlelight, catching every flicker and transforming it into magic. The translucent layers of the fabric hugged your silhouette, leaving just enough to the imagination while maintaining an air of regality.

Mel circled you with a satisfied smile, tucking one final lock of hair into place. “If Sevika doesn’t fall for you tonight,” she teased, “she must be made of stone.”

You swatted her arm lightly but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your lips. With a deep breath, you stepped out into the party, your heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor as you entered the grand ballroom.

The hall was alive with music, laughter, and clinking glasses. The party was far too large for the dining hall, so the grand ballroom served as the perfect venue. Guests danced beneath glittering chandeliers, their movements synchronized to the lively tunes of the string quartet. You and your ladies joined in, swirling through the dance floor in familiar patterns, your laughter mixing with the music.

You’d had two glasses of wine by then—an indulgence you rarely allowed yourself—and it left you feeling warm and light. Your inhibitions melted away, and you let yourself be swept up in the joy of the moment.

That was when you saw her.

Sevika stood near the edge of the ballroom, her tall frame unmistakable even among the most decorated soldiers. Her usual rugged attire was transformed, enhanced with gold detailing that caught the light in flashes of brilliance. Her armor had been polished to a mirror finish, and though her expression remained stoic, she looked breathtakingly regal.

Your gaze lingered, and Mel—ever observant—caught on immediately. She grabbed your wrist, pulling you from the dancing circle with a knowing grin. “Now’s your chance,” she whispered.

You hesitated, your heart racing. “I don’t know, Mel.”

“What if you don’t see her again? What if she leaves for a mission and never comes back?”

The weight of her words struck you, and you turned to look at Sevika again. She was speaking with someone, her stern profile illuminated by the golden light of the chandeliers. Mel was right—you couldn’t waste this moment.

With a deep breath, you smoothed your gown and made your way toward her, weaving through the crowd. When you reached her, you placed a tentative hand on her arm, causing her to turn and look at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Can I speak to you somewhere privately?” you asked softly.

Sevika’s brow furrowed slightly, but she nodded, following you out of the ballroom and into one of the quieter hallways.

The hallway felt like it was closing in around you, the flickering sconces casting fleeting light on Sevika’s armor. Her stern expression was unreadable, and her imposing frame seemed even more unyielding in the dim corridor. Still, you gathered every ounce of courage you could muster. This was your moment, and you couldn’t let it slip away, no matter how heavy the weight of her cold demeanor felt.

You hesitated, the stem of the wine glass trembling in your grip as you tried to muster the courage to speak. She didn’t move, her arms crossed over her chest, waiting. Always waiting, as if the weight of your words was little more than an inconvenience.

"Well?" she said flatly, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "If you dragged me away from the ball for this, I suggest you make it quick."

“I’ve held this in for too long,” you started, your voice trembling slightly. “I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t matter, that you don’t matter.”

Sevika’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she said nothing, her silence more oppressive than any words could be. You stepped closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I love you, Sevika,” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of your confession. “I’ve loved you for years.”

For a moment, her mask slipped. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—surprise, uncertainty, maybe even longing. It was so fleeting you almost doubted you’d seen it at all. But it gave you the courage to close the distance between you, to take her face in your hands.

She didn’t pull away. Her body tensed under your touch, but she remained rooted in place, her breathing shallow and uneven. It was enough. You leaned in, your lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was as much a plea as it was a confession.

For a fleeting moment, she kissed you back. Her lips were hesitant, but warm, and you felt a spark—something you’d only ever dreamed of. It was like the world had stopped, and in that heartbeat, everything else ceased to matter.

But just as quickly, it was over. Sevika’s hands came up, gripping your wrists firmly as she pulled away. The space between you felt like a chasm, and the cold air rushed in where her warmth had been.

“No.” Her voice was sharp, almost a growl. She let go of your wrists, and you staggered back, staring at her in disbelief.

“Sevika—” you started, your voice cracking with desperation.

“Don’t,” she snapped, cutting you off. Her expression was hard, her eyes blazing with something you couldn’t place—anger, regret, pain. “This… whatever this is, it can’t happen. It shouldn’t have happened.”

“Why?” you demanded, tears welling in your eyes. “Why are you doing this? I know you feel something for me. I know you do!”

“Because you’re nothing but a spoiled little girl who doesn’t understand the world she lives in,” Sevika snapped, her tone cold and biting. Her eyes bored into yours, unyielding and merciless. “You think this is some fairy tale where you confess your feelings, and everything falls into place. But that’s not how life works. I serve your father. I protect this kingdom. That is my duty. Not indulging the childish fantasies of a princess who doesn’t know the meaning of sacrifice.”

Her words were a dagger, each one sinking deeper into your chest. You opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came out. The tears you’d been fighting spilled over, streaking your cheeks as you stared at her, your heart breaking with every second that passed.

Sevika’s gaze softened for the briefest moment, but it was gone just as quickly, replaced by the cold mask she always wore. She took a step back, putting more distance between you. “Forget this ever happened,” she said, her voice flat. “And stop chasing after things that aren’t meant for you.”

Without another word, she turned and walked away, her heavy boots echoing down the corridor. You stood there, frozen, as the weight of her rejection pressed down on you. The air felt colder now, the once-grand gown that adorned you suddenly feeling suffocating, like a cage meant to keep you trapped in a world where you could never truly be free.

You slid down the wall, your knees giving out beneath you as you buried your face in your hands. The sound of the ballroom felt even further away now, and for the first time in your life, you wished you could disappear completely.

Mel stepped into the hall, her steps echoing through the quiet corridors of the castle. She froze when she saw you, sitting on the cold stone floor, your body trembling with sobs. The sight of you, usually so composed, crumbled in such a vulnerable state, sent a pang of concern through her chest. “(Y/N)?” she called out softly, her voice filled with both worry and warmth.

Between the heavy breaths, you managed to choke out the words, “She said she didn’t love me back… she called me childish,” your voice breaking as the weight of the rejection hung in the air like a thick, suffocating fog.

Mel's heart ached at the sound of your pain. Without a second thought, she hurried to your side, kneeling down beside you. Her hands gently touched your arms, offering a quiet comfort as she whispered, “Come on, let’s get you back to your room.”

With surprising strength, Mel helped you to your feet, supporting your wobbly legs as you struggled to calm the tears that refused to stop. Her presence was grounding, a steady reassurance in the storm of your emotions. As the two of you walked slowly back toward your chambers, Mel kept a steady hand on your back, guiding you through the castle’s labyrinth of halls.

The comforting silence between you both was interrupted only by the occasional sniffle from you, as you struggled to regain some composure. Mel didn’t say anything more. She knew there was nothing to say—at least not yet. She just wanted to get you somewhere safe, where you could break down if you needed to, without the prying eyes of the castle around you.

taglist: @tinycherry0 @thesecondhandwoman @abbysleftbicepp @artfairyyyyy @bunninel @furrytaesss @savedforlaterr @veladeangl @5t4r1i9ht @athena-winters13 (😝) @inlovewithsevikaandambessa

[lagomorphique]

an overlooked curly line from the HFIM DLC which highlights curly's fundamental loneliness as a character.

he feels at home neither in space nor on earth. people who spend a lot of time in space in this universe losing touch with friends and family bc they've been away for so long.

jimmy is the one constant that he has. he thinks curly is the life of the party, but he strikes me as the kind of guy to have a lot of acquaintances but not so many friends. he knows a lot of people, but none of them really Know Him.

the way curly talks to anya about jimmy, it's clear that he knows jimmy is volatile and lashes out. when jimmy berates him, curly gives up defending himself immediately. i very much associate him with dog imagery - jimmy can do or say anything he wants to him. curly will keep going back for more, craving that dynamic even. although it hurts, it's familiar, and there's comfort in that pain's familiarity

by the time of the crash, curly doesn't even trust his own perception of reality any more. gaslighting gets thrown around a lot these days, but it's what jimmy does to him in the exact textbook sense of the word at several points in the game. 'your recollection of things is wrong. the way you feel is wrong. the way you felt and reacted was different to how you remember them.'

he has to keep this professional distance between himself and the crew. it's one of the things that stops him grabbing on to anya's olive branch of friendship. the end result is that both of them are so fucking lonely

the only one without a piece on the board... the crew choose to spend their leisure time together, even jimmy, but curly isn't there. is it because he's working? is he being self-sacrificing, because only four people can play the game? either way, he isolates himself from the others.

curly's hallucination/flashback/prophetic stress dream in ch3 (maybe out of chronological order?). he's alone, with nowhere to go but blindly onward. the broken off ladders that lead nowhere in either direction.. he can neither ascend nor descend, just stuck halfway up with cold, dark water constantly lapping at his heels

in all of curly's dialogue you get this profound sense of unfulfilment, of always trying to run away from something. he wants to be better, to do more, but the prospect of change terrifies him more than anything else.

tldr; curly is lonely as fuck and pretty much no sense of self

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: The Arcana Interpretations

symbolism for your next poem/story (pt. 1)

1. The Magician

The beginning, the first cause, Mercurial influence

Good: Dexterity, ability, diplomacy, eloquence, convincing ways, an alert mind, a quick mind, business acumen

Bad: A persuasive boaster, an illusionist, intrigue, careerist, politician, charlatan, imposter, liar, a crook, an exploiter; an agitator, a lack of scruples

2. The Priestess

Mystery, intuition, devotion, passive Saturnian influence

Good: reserved, discreet, quiet, meditation, faith, patient, religious feelings, resignation, modesty; necessary inaction

Bad: hidden intentions, dissimulation, hypocrisy, inaction, laziness, sanctimonious, holds a grudge, an indifferent disposition, interest in the mystical

3. The Empress

Prudence, discretion, idealism and intellectual solar influence

Good: Understanding, intelligence, instruction, charm, courteous, sociable, elegance, distinction, politeness; domination by the mind, abundance, riches; servility

Bad: Affectation, poseur, stylish, vanity, pretentious, disdain, frivolity, idleness, luxury, extravagant; sensitivity to flattery, lack of refinement, ways of nouveaux riche

4. The Emperor

Firm, positivism, executive power, Saturnian-Martial influence

Good: Right, rigid, certitude, fixed ideas, realization, perseverance, strong willpower, acts on decisions; powerful protector

Bad: Tenuous opposition, stubborn, hostile prejudice, opinionated, bad government, big risks of failure; tyranny, absolutism

5. The Pope

Duty, morality, conscience, Jupiterian influence

Good: Moral authority, respectability, teaching, good advice, goodwill, indulgent, generosity, forgiveness; meekness

Bad: Papal sentence, strict moralist, strict teacher, small-minded theorist, bombastic preacher; an adviser with a lank of practical sense

6. The Lovers

Feelings, freewilled, testing, double influence of Venus or more exactly Ishtar the war like star of the morning, then amorous as the stars go down

Good: Voluntary determinism, choice, wished, aspirations, desires; examinations, deliberations, responsibility; affections

Bad: To go through doubts and indecision; dangerous temptation, the risk of being seduced, misconduct, liberty, weakness, lack of heroism

7. The Chariot

Triumph, command, superiority, Martian-solar influence

Good: Legitimate success, deserved advancement, talent, health, aptitudes put to good effect; governmental tact, diplomacy, efficient direction, appeasement; progress, mobility, journeys on land

Bad: Unjustified ambition, lack of talent, usurped situation, illegitimate government, dictatorship, harmful concessions, dangerous opportunism, worrying about which way to go, preoccupations, overworked, feverish activity without rest

8. Justice

Order, regularity, method, equilibrium, placid lunar influences

Good: Stability, conservatism, organization, normal functioning; law, discipline, logic, coordination, adapting to necessities, moderate opinions, practical sense, reason, administration, economy, obedience

Bad: Bourgeoisism, submission to users, lack of initiative, slaving over books, functionalism, papers; police station; legal dispute, law suit, quarrel, exploitation of the legal system

9. The Hermit

Prudence, reserve, restriction, Saturnian influence

Good: Isolation, concentration, silence, profoundness, meditation, study; austerity, continence, sobriety, discretion; doctor, discreet occultist

Bad: Timid, misanthrope, mute, exaggerated circumspection, lack of sociability, sullen character; avarice, poverty, celibacy, chaste; conspirator

10. The Wheel of Fortune

Destiny, instability, lunar-Mercurial influence

Good: Sagacity, an opportunist, luck in all undertakings, luck, fortuitous success; spontaneity, an inventive disposition, liveliness, good humour

Bad: Carelessness, speculation, game, insecurity, unserious, the unexpected, gypsy character; unstable situation, sudden change, winnings and losses; adventures, risks, minor fortune

11. Strength

Virtue, courage, Jupiter-Mars influence

Good: Moral energy, calm, intrepid; mind over matter; intelligence conquering brutality; subjugation of passions; success in industry

Bad: Anger, impatience, immoderate enthusiasm, insensibility, cruelty, fighting, war, conquering with violence, a surgical operation, vehemence, discord, fire

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ On Tarot

[evertomorrowart]

Best of YouTube 2023

Yes, I did spend the first week and change of January on this. I wish I could have had it done for New Years, but too many people came out with incredible work in December, so waiting turned out for the best.

What these creators do are a huge influence on my life, I would honestly have difficulty doing what I do without them. That isn't to say that my favorites of the year are *only* on this image--It was almost impossible to narrow down my favorites. Many creators I wanted to include couldn't fit on a single page, and too many of them made more than one video I wished I could draw too!

But, to all of you, thank you for what you do. You're an inspiration.

For those who don't know, further is an explanation.

At the bottom center is an artistic masterpiece by Defunctland: "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History." Over the last several years, Defunctland has risen from delightfully-entertaining commentary on decommissioned theme park attractions to occasionally dropping profound statements on the creation of art itself. "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History" is worth treating like the cinematic experience it is: No second screen, you sit your ass down in front of a TV, set down the phone, and then you *watch it.* Any Disney, theme park, or independent film fan needs to pay attention to this one.

Bottom left is Caelan Conrad with their piece "Drop the T - The Deadly Consequences of Gay Respectability Politics." While I do think they've done more visually or artistically-daring pieces before, "Drop the T" is one of the most important videos released on YouTube in today's current climate of hate. We as queer folk (and our allies) need to understand how integral every identity of the queer experience has been since the start of the Civil Rights movement (and before!). While we are not identical, we *are* inseparable, and we deserve having our real history easily accessible.

TERFs and other conservative mouthpieces need not reply. Your opinions are trash. 😘

I cannot stop watching and rewatching this video by @patricia-taxxon, "On the Ethics of Boinking Animal People." It's not just a defense of furry fandom and its eccentricities, it's a thoughtful and passionate analysis of what the artform achieves that purely human representation can't. Patricia goes outside of her usual essay format to directly speak to the viewer about the elements that define furry media (the most succinct definition I've ever heard) and just how *human* an act loving animal cartoons really is.

As an artist who can draw furry characters, but never really got into erotic furry art, this video is a treasure. Why did I choose to have her drawn as a Ghibli character, hanging out with one of the tanukis from "Pom Poko?" Guess you'll have to watch, bruh.

Philosophy Tube continuously puts out videos that I would put on this list--I'm not even sure that "A Man Plagiarised my Work: Women, Money, and the Nation" is the best work she released in 2023. However, this video got many conversations going between myself and my partner, and the twist on the tail end of the video shocked us both to such a degree that I had no choice.

At the very tail end of the year, Big Joel released "Fear of Death." On his Little Joel channel, he described it as the singularly best video he's ever done, and I'm inclined to agree. However, for this illustration, I ended up repeatedly going back to a mini-series he did earlier in the year: "Three Stories at the End of the World." All three videos are deeply moving and haunting, and I was brought to tears by "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot." While it may be relatively-common knowledge that the original Gojira (Godzilla) film is horror grappling with the devastation America's rush to atomic dominance inflicted on Japan, Big Joel still manages to bring new words to the discussion. Please watch all three of the videos, but if, for some reason, you must have only one, let it be "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot."

Y'all. Let me confess something. I hate football. I hate watching it, I associate seeing it from the stadiums with some of my worst childhood experiences, I despise collegiate and professional football (as institutions that destroy bodies and offer up children at the feet of its alter as a pillar of American culture)--

I. L o a t h e. Football.

But.

F.D. Signifier could get me to watch an entire hour-plus essay on why I should at least give a passing care. AND HE DID IT. I might think "F*ck the Police," the two-parter on Black conservatism, or his essay on Black men's connection to anime might be "better" videos, but this writer did the impossible and held my limited attention span towards football long enough to make a sincere case for NFL players--and reminds us that millionaires can *in fact* be workers. That alone is testament to his skill.

Sit down and watch "The REAL Reason NFL Running Backs Aren't Getting Paid." Any good anti-capitalist owes it to themselves.

CJ the X continuously puts out stunning, emotional videos, and can do it with the most seemingly-inconsequential starting points. A 30 second song? An incestuous commercial? Five minutes of Tangled? Sure, why not. Go destroy yourself emotionally by watching them. I'm serious. Do it.

Their video Stranger Things and the Meaning of Life manages to to remind us all why the way we react to media does, in fact, matter. Yes, even nostalgia-driven, mass-media schlock. Yes, how we interact with media matters, what it says about us matters, and we all deserve to seek out the whys.

Folding Ideas has spent the last few years articulating exactly why so much of our modern world feels broken, and because of that his voice continuously lives rent-free in my brain. While the tricks that scam artists and grifters use to try to swindle us are never new, the advancement of technology changes the aesthetics of their performances. Portions of Folding Ideas' explanations might seem dry when going into detail of how stocks work in This is Financial Advice, but every bit of it is necessary to peel back the layers of techno-babble and jargon and make sense of the results of "Meme Stocks."

Jessie Gender puts out nothing but bangers, her absolute unit of a video about Star Wars might be my new favorite thing ever, but none of her work hit so profoundly in 2023 than the two-parter "The Myth of 'Male Socialization'" and "The Trauma of Masculinity." There's so much about modern life that isolates and traumatizes us, and so much of it is just shrugged off as "normal." We owe it to ourselves to see the world in more vivid a color palette than we're initially given.

Panels drawn after Kate Beaton and "Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands."

"This is Not a Video Essay" is one of the most intense and beautiful pieces of art I've ever put into my eyeballs. Why do we create? What drives us to connect?

I don't even know what else to say about the Leftist Cooks' work, it repeatedly transcends the medium and platform. Watch every single one of their videos, but especially this one.

The likelihood you are terminally online and yet haven't heard of Hbomberguy's yearly forrays into destroying the careers of awful people is pretty slim. Just because it has millions of views doesn't mean that Hbomberguy's "Plagiarism and You(Tube)" isn't worth the hype. Too long? Shut up, it has chapters and YouTube holds your place, anyway. You think a deep dive into a handful of creators is only meaningless drama? Well, you're wrong, you wrong-opinion-haver. Plagiarism is an *everyone* problem because of the actual harm it creates--the history it erases, the labor it devalues, the art it marginalizes--which you would know if you watched "Plagiarism and You(Tube)".

Watch. The damn. Video.

In fact, watch all of them!

Thanks for reading this if you did.

[saintsenara]

What parts of canon do you find the most frustrating/that you are dissatisfied with/wished that was handled better/explored more? Mine is the inconsistency of Voldemort as a character. How he is described as being perhaps the most talented student that Hogwarts has ever seen and so powerful and intelligent but regularly made such dumb decisions e.g. in the final battle where he still uses Avada Kedavra despite seeing it not work before. I like the explanation that Horcruxes rotted his brain

thank you very much for the ask, @sarafina-sincerity!

the parts of canon which i find the least satisfying all have the same thing in common: their morality is individualist.

the harry potter series has - at its core - a really profound and very black-and-white belief that good and evil not only exist but are rooted in the individual. and while i understand why this is the case - the later books in the series are governed by the genre conventions of folkloric epic and, especially, of christian folkloric epic, which means that the whole seven-book narrative arc ending in a battle between christ and satan after which all is well is only to be expected - i don't like it.

so here we are... ten things i hate about canon, for fanfic writers to win my heart by interrogating in their work...

i hate the series' insistence that everything is fine once voldemort is dead

the middle books in the series - especially goblet of fire - do a really interesting job at hinting at the endemic rot in the ministry of magic, and the ways that the state and its enforcers perpetuated harm during the first war that was indistinct from that perpetuated by the death eaters - above all the use of internment without trial for suspected death eaters [which is a reference to something the british state actually did in the 1970s!].

they show how widespread blood-supremacy and magic-supremacy is, even among people who don't openly support voldemort; how the wizarding population is kept deliberately ignorant by what appears to be state-controlled media; and how no serious efforts have been made to eradicate the conditions which enabled voldemort to attain such power.

this is then forgotten completely in deathly hallows, where the fact that almost the entire civil service keeps working for a government which is committing genocide is hand-waved away with "oh, people are scared", and both the epilogue and jkr's post-series writing take the view that kingsley manages, as minister, to preside over a government which easily sheds all its old prejudices and starts working properly.

i don't like this! i think it's just much more interesting for corruption to be impossible to fully eradicate from the government, for blood-supremacy to have long-standing causes which actually take a lot of very hard work to untangled [especially the fact that the wizarding world not appearing to have a welfare state means that those whose lives are poor or unstable are prime targets for radicalisation], and for kingsley to have the same capacity for leaning on the prophet and worrying about his polling numbers as any other politician...

i hate that the series changes how the death eaters are written between half-blood prince and deathly hallows

connected to this shift from the series hinting at the broader issues in the wizarding world to a flat battle between good and evil is that the death eaters, their aims, and their modus operandi are written very different between half-blood prince and deathly hallows. in the former, the death eaters can be situated very easily as anti-state sectarian terrorists who have all sorts of complex analogies within british history and politics. in the latter, they're just caricatures of pure evil - which is why the death eaters introduced from the latter stages of half-blood prince onwards, especially the carrows, are considerably less interesting as characters than those, such as lucius malfoy, barty crouch jr. and bellatrix lestrange, who are introduced earlier.

it's also why the voldemort of deathly hallows feels so uninteresting. i don't like the fanon that the horcruxes render him insane at all - when he's shown outside of the epic battle between good and evil in that book, he's shown to be as lucid and cunning as always - but he ends up having to flop because his only purpose in the overarching narrative is to be killed. in the earlier books, in which he's a paramilitary kingpin poisoning and corrupting a society which was designed to exclude him because of the fact of his birth in revenge for its treatment of him, rather than satan and hitler's lovechild, he is so much more interesting.

i hate the series' belief that slavery is fine

obviously, one of the biggest examples of state malevolence in the series is that wizards own slaves. like many readers, i loathe that the house elf plotline ends up being reduced from its potential for radicalism in chamber of secrets - in which dobby mentions whisper-networks of elves who decry their treatment at wizards' hands - to what we see from goblet of fire onwards - in which elves love being enslaved and think that any attempts to free them from their subjugation is cruel.

i also hate that elves' freedom is then hand-waved away as part of the general race towards "all was well" with the implication that hermione found it easy to undo what appears to be centuries of state-sanctioned oppression without any pushback at all.

the house elf plotline is one of the clearest distillations of the series' individualistic morality. harry abhors the treatment of dobby at the malfoys' hands entirely and only because he doesn't like the malfoys. he abhors voldemort's treatment of kreacher, but sees absolutely no issue with sirius' because he likes sirius - and he clearly sees no issue at all with his own legal mastery of kreacher, seeing as, literally minutes after the end of a war in which the good guys fought for the rights of muggles and muggleborns to be seen as fully human... he is considering ordering his slave to make him a sandwich.

i hate that the series doesn't show the realities of resistance

the reason i think the whole "why does voldemort keep using avada kedavra, isn't he supposed to be clever?" question arises is because the series is incredibly resistant to the idea that the good guys must have to kill as well, which makes it look like it's only the death eaters using it while the order use lots of clever magic that the stupid terrorists are too thick to think of.

this is idiotic - not only because the killing curse is canonically flawless unless the thing you're blasting is your own horcrux and so the order would use it for efficiency's sake alone, but because the reality of being a resistance fighter is that, even if you're on the "right" side, you are going to have kill people or they will kill you.

lupin is completely right in deathly hallows that harry is breathtakingly naive to avoid shooting to kill and that - without the protection of genre conventions allowing him to be preternaturally merciful - his resistance to killing is going to result in him being destroyed by the enemy. it is inconceivable that the rest of the order don't using the killing curse - and the question of what this does to their souls [is it murder if you believe yourself to be justified in your actions?] and their senses of self post-war is so interesting to think about - and i wish we were shown this in the text.

especially because molly absolutely blasted bellatrix with it.

but i also hate that the series thinks that violence is fine when the good guys do it

this is primarily another example of the black-and-white "this is fine because harry's good" theme which runs through the series, which we see in things like harry using sectumsempra on draco malfoy in half-blood prince or the cruciatus curse on amycus carrow in deathly hallows. harry's overarching response to committing attempted murder is to sulk that the incredibly minor punishment he receives is reducing the time he could spend hitting on ginny, and his response to torturing amycus is "lol. lmao."

the series thinks - again and again - that cruelty and violence are completely fine when the person they are perpetuated against "deserves" it, and it does not bang.

and that the series allows the good guys more complexity in characterisation

the role played by the house system in the story - and, above all, the fact that our heroes are all connected to one particular house with straightforwardly admirable associated characteristics - means that the villains receive less opportunity to also have positive traits intermingled with their negative ones - and, therefore, complex and interesting personalities.

i also dislike that when non-gryffindor characters - especially slytherins - do reveal themselves to be brave and loyal etc., instead of recognising that this is because bravery can be multi-faceted the series suggests that they should be recategorised as "belonging" to a "good" house.

or, in other words, me and dumbledore's "i think we sort too soon" line in deathly hallows are enemies for life.

i hate that the series blames merope gaunt for dying

and - of course - the main way a villain isn't allowed as much complexity as a hero is that the series never examines the impact of voldemort's childhood on his adult self. while we see hints throughout canon of just how profoundly affected he is by his institutionalised childhood and the weight of his grief over his parents [his mother especially] - such as him learning as a baby never to cry for attention because it's futile - this is hand-waved away throughout the series by dumbledore-as-the-voice-of-god as irrelevant. the eleven-year-old tom riddle is straightforwardly evil, that he grows up in an orphanage is used as nothing more than narrative colour to underline how creepy he is, and dumbledore's spectacular mishandling of their relationship is viewed by the series as undeniably correct right up to the very last moment [when harry imitates dumbledore by - and we should call it what it is - deadnaming voldemort in their final confrontation].

but the most egregious thing that dumbledore does when discussing the course voldemort's life takes is blame merope gaunt for her own death in childbirth, by implying that witches are immune to one of the most common causes of death throughout human history if they just try hard enough and then saying that a nineteen-year-old girl whose life appears to have been nothing more than unrelenting abuse and misery [perpetuated both against her and by her] lacked the moral fibre to try hard enough.

and this infuriates me.

i hate how the series treats female characters who don't fit its narrow spectrum of "correct" womanhood

merope is but one victim of the series' general issues with treating women who aren't its heroes - all of whom are exactly feminine and beautiful and clever and talented enough that we know they're good people, but not any of these things in an extreme which could make them vapid or arrogant or defiant of social norms or so on.

the series takes a very low view of women who exist outside of narrow boxes - whether they are interested in a hyper-feminine aesthetic [lavender brown, rita skeeter] or a more masculine one [marge dursley]; conform to stereotypes about being bitchy, flighty, or vapid [pansy parkinson, romilda vane] or refuse to adhere to social expectations to be polite, meek, and demure [fleur delacour]; are unmarried, are not inherently maternal, and/or are cruel to children [bellatrix lestrange; petunia dursley; dolores umbridge]; are unrestrained emotionally [cho chang; moaning myrtle] and so on. and i don't like it.

and i also hate that - connected to this - the series uses physical appearance - especially weight - as a shorthand for [female] characters we're supposed to dislike.

what it says on the tin, really - if the series doesn't like a character, especially if the character is a woman, you can almost guarantee that they will either be fat or be unusually thin.

and finally...

i hate that the series prioritises one form of love - love as suffering and as sacrifice - over all others

part of the series' march towards the epic two-person showdown between good and evil is that harry is made to endure trial after trial - including his death for the salvation of mankind - in the name of love. obviously this is because he becomes, by the end of deathly hallows an allegory for christ, but it also fits into the series' view - articulated most frequently by dumbledore - that love, suffering, and sacrifice are all synonyms.

the acts of love the series foregrounds - snape's willingness to endure anything because of his love for lily; sirius' willingness to rot in azkaban and caves and grimmauld place because of his love for james and harry; harry giving up a love that's like "someone else's life" with ginny so he can go die - are all sacrificial, and the series generally takes a dull view of love that is fluffy, silly, carnal, selfish, soothing, transformational and so on. lavender and bellatrix's open adoration of their lovers is mocked; dumbledore's sexual desire for grindelwald is punished by his sister's death; tonks and lupin's uncomplicated happiness in the birth of their son is not to last.

but happy endings and silly jokes and forehead kisses are love too. and the hill i will die on is that they have even more potential to bring about the salvation of the world than constant suffering and abiding.

[wutheringcaterpillar]

I was wondering if you could write something for Peaky Blinders where the reader is a mix of Tommy and Arthur, who grew up with the Shelby’s and ended up being their business partners and Tommy’s fiancé, only for him to ship you away for your safety after a business meeting gone wrong and you come back to find him married to Grace as he believed the reader had died while away due to no correspondence. Thank you so much if you can 💖

Warnings: Altered storyline, orphan!reader, sad ending

thank you for the request, apologies it took a moment to come out. Thank you for being patient, hope you enjoy lovie🥰

Growing up with the Shelby’s wasn’t for the weak, but since a young age they had taken you in as their own.

Ada taught you how to fight for your rights and never allow a man to take control of you, whilst Arthur was the one who always reminded you to keep fighting when things get tough, to not supress any anger or rage as he did.

Then there was Tommy, the voice of reason, the one that promised protection over you and put the most interest in your life.

Through the years you’d grown immensely close, a shy attraction forming but never having the courage to approach the matter until a small kiss was shared on a drunken snowy night at the pub. 

From there things began to escalate, Tommy going as far as proposing and the family being overjoyed. The profound bound you shared with one another was unbreakable. That was until a villainous person of character brought trouble and you were his main target.

Tommy wasn’t quite sure how but the man had figured out where you were 24/7. A car reappearing constantly was never found, a familiar face never near. When they’d attempt to break in while you were at the betting shop alone Tommy realized he couldn’t risk it anymore, couldn’t risk losing you. Eventually sending you off to stay in Boston and promising to return when the situation was handled.

As days turned into weeks, weeks turning into months there had been no contact made on your part, leaving Tommy to presume you were dead and they had found a way to you.

Wanting the reassurance, he sent Charlie out there to investigate. But when Charlie arrived at your secluded flat, the place was a mess. Clothes and papers scattered, half bowls of food on the counters and what looked like to be blood covering your sheets, so he assumed the worst, eventually confirming Tommy’s fear that you had passed and your body was nowhere to be found.

Now here you were entering through the corridors of the Arrow House after tracking breadcrumbs to figure out where your long lost love was living.

Heads turned to stare in disbelief and side conversations unfolding from your powerful presence.

What you weren’t ready for was to see Tommy standing there with a blonde woman with an expensive necklace wrapped around her neck, his hands firmly placed caringly on her arms.

“I need you. I need you alive Grace.” The scene unfolding before your very own eyes churned your stomach in disgust while your heart thumped rapidly from the anger and heartbreak in your chest.

“And what about me then Tommy?” You shouted loudly causing everyone’s heads to turn in curiosity.

Whipping his head around from the sound of that voice he once cherished that he never thought he’d hear again. Grace followed his eyes, brows furruowing in confusion.

“Tommy who is this?” 

“Who are you?” You quipped back without missing a beat, resentment and anger laced in your voice.  Tommy felt everyone’s eyes glued on him, but that didn’t change the murmur in his heart.

He felt like the universe had come to a stand still. How could this be? It couldn’t, no. He had confirmation you were dead but yet here you were standing right before his very own eyes.

When Grace tried to approach, Tommy released his arm causing her to come to a hault.

“Why don’t we go to my office. Somewhere more private without lingering eyes and ears, eh?” Arthur and Ada stayed near their corner, watching the scandalous scene of events, nearly choking on their drinks when your heels clicked forward, hand striking the middle Shelby across his face vigorously before storming off in anger.

Ada set her glass down knowing she’d need to intervene with Grace, surely Tommy would want to talk to you alone.

Waving his hand, the music restarted, fellow bussiness partners and coneseuirs going back to their socializing as if nothing has happened.

Closing the office doors behind him, Tommy placed his hands in the pockets of his pants to hide his trembling hands, watching you rummage around his desk drawer for a cigarette as his crystal eyes remained calm and collected.

“Y/N. I thought you were dead. I didn’t-“ You slammed the door shut, lighting the cigarette allowing the nicotine to burn your lungs euphorically while flipping you hair, unphased by your ex fiance.

“I’m going to stop you right there. Tell me, did you even look for me? Or were you already far past me when you sent me away. Was that it? Was it all for her?” The crackling in your strained voice and the water building at the brink of your heartbroken eye lids shattered Tommy inside, lips parting agape while he couldn’t seem to find the right words.

There was a knock at the door but neither you or Tommy answered, gazes still locked in a windwhirl of scattered emotions, stuck laying in the bed of deceit and heartache that he caused.

When the knocking insisted on, he hadn’t known it was Grace on the other side when he shouted, “For christ’s sake we are busy! Fuck off!” She was taken aback by his tone, scoffing and twisting at the door handle trying to jiggle open the locked knob.

Scoffing at the tone of her high pitched, annoying voice yelling to be allowed in caused your blood to boil.

Picking up the glass bottle of liqour, you threw it with strong velocity and a hateful intent, just barely missing Tommy’s head as the object shattered against the door behind him.

“Jesus christ! Fucking calm down eh? I didn’t fucking know Y/N-I-“ She still didn’t stop.

“Fuck off you fiance stealing tramp!” Her efforts diminished, face turning pale when she heard what you said. So that’s who you were.

“Now with the whore gone, give me a fucking answer that I am damn well entitled to! Did. You. Look. For. Me.” He knew you were right, he should have looked, should have seen for himself but he didn’t want to bare seeing your lifeless body.

His fingers rubbed together at his side, head dropping down in guilt as his eyes wandered, mind pondering why the fuck he just assumed. There were plenty of moments where his men gave him false information, wrong information. 

“You never wrote back Y/N. I tried for months and sent Charlie to look for you. He told me there was blood in your bed and looked like no one had been there in weeks. I fucking thought you were dead. A day didn’t go by where I didn’t blame myself, I should have held you closer, should’ve never sent you away.” You scoffed in disbelief, crossing the room and pointed a finger accusing at him, pushing his chest in the process and he was more than willing to take the hits.

“If you cared enough you would have shown up for yourself you fucking bastard! Yes they fucking found me but I got out, the blood was from me killing those sick bastards. I disposed of their bodies, by myself might I add while you sat here just fucking the whore from Ireland not giving a shit about me! Do you know how much I struggled? I had no fucking money, none of you sent help for me or even tried but I’m more disappointed and angered with you! My fucking supposedly dearly beloved soon to be husband, I can’t believe I-“ His lips smashed against yours, silencing your words as his hands cupped your cheeks.

The taste of his whiskey, partially chapped, alluring lips caused your mind to flood with memories playing out like a movie scene in your head but you were stronger than this.

Pushing him away you slapped him once more, eyes entranced in one anothers in a moment of silence. Clasping his jaw, he shook it off like it was nothing. This wasn’t going to work this time, he couldn’t just seduce you and everything would be one happy fucking rainbow.

“Don’t fucking touch me. You have no right! I’m not some pawn in this twisted story Thomas.” 

He hated how his mind worked, he knew it was fucked up but was hoping his lips on yours would draw you back in, make you realize he was never once over you. It was his way of saying sorry.

“Y/N I will leave her, anything you’d like. I just want you. I need you Y/N.” You laughed in disbelief of the irony and disbelief of his choice of words and began to pace the room, your heart no longer aching but void of any feeling.

“Really? Isn’t that what you just said to her when I walked in the room? I won’t be the next chapter of another great Thomas Shelby redemption arc. I can’t. I refuse.” Tommy didn’t cry often but this time he couldn’t stop the singular tear from streaming down his cheek.

The air was heavy, the silence heavier, nothing but the clock ticking in the background filling your eardrums while your aching hearts split in half. 

You couldn’t be here anymore, didn’t want to be. How were you to love a man that threw you away so effortlessly. You knew him well enough to know he was just telling you what he believed you wanted to hear. Rule number one, don’t give your heart away to someone undeserving. He had taught you at a young age that true love was a fragile, difficult thing to come across, you just didn’t think he’d be the one to throw your away.

Making your exit, you wiped away the tears, refusing to give the public the satisfaction of knowing that Thomas Shelby had broken your heart as everyone said he would long ago.

He watched as you left him alone in the room with nothing but his thoughts, cursing himself for the man that he was as he watched the love of his life exit through the door for the final time.

[chiisana-sukima]

nine people i want to get to know better

Thank you for the tag, @slutsons-blog! Starting a new post because I'm autistic and therefore mostly only care about the "Current Obsession" question, and want to ramble excessively as usual in that one.

Last song: Pokemon Mystery Dungeon Red Rescue Team: Pokemon Square because I'm currently playing Pokemon Mystery Dungeon with my daughter. Otherwise I honestly couldn't tell you. Whatever was on in my car.

Fave color: Purple

Currently watching: Star Trek Discovery

Last movie: Knives Out

Sweet/spicy/savory: Sweet, tart, salty

Relationship: married x 27 years

Last thing I googled: the word "dependent", for spelling assistance. which is a good thing because I spelled it "dependant".

Current Obsession: it's been spn since 2016. Truly we are the Hotel California of media franchises. I did recently play Disco Elysium twice in a row in quick succession, and I follow the DE tag. I can't recommend the game highly enough.... but I can feel my Special Interest-level obsession with it fading already. Spn has never faded even a tiny bit and I wonder if it ever will.

@slutsons-blog I feel after reading that you're watching spn for the first time, that I did you a bit of a disservice with my Sam takes to you before in that I mostly talked about Sam's evolution as a character as the show goes on and very little about him from the first five seasons.

Gotta be honest and tell you that although I liked both brothers all along, I was a Dean girl until the end of s6/beginning of s7, when the balance of who gets whumped the most started shifting and my subconscious suddenly decided to switch allegiances. It's not that I liked Dean any less; my id just loves a sopping wet pathetic kitten of a man who has been sexually abused, and Sam got suddenly way more kitteny and pathetic after the Cage. So I don't actually have a ton of takes on "what to love about Sam in the early seasons". I do love early seasons Sam too--she is my beautiful baby princess--but my early seasons takes are a lot more inchoate.

I count myself lucky about my id's sudden defection though, because I think we have limited control of who our blorbos are, and having Dean as a blorbo is a tough row to hoe as the later seasons go along. You know how you noticed that in s6, Dean suddenly gets a lot more assholey without apparent reason? Unfortunately he never gets better again, and in fact keeps getting worse and worse as the years go by, until by the last seasons he is openly far more abusive to their joint child(-in-an-adult body) than John was to him and Sam. It's a realistic picture of what can happen when trauma keeps piling up on people, but it's also honestly pretty distressing, especially if he's your blorbo.

If one is in it for the ship, there's some good destiel content in the later seasons, but if you're in it for Dean, you're left either 1) dealing with the fact he's got extremely significant interpersonal problems that he never gets much of anywhere on solving and that negatively impact his chosen family in profound ways, or 2) pretending he's the same character he was in s1 and Sam is the same Sam from s1, only more boring, and Dean is just trying to put up with him because he was brainwashed by John (or ig 3- something in the middle between those two. But that seldom seems to happen in practice for whatever reason). These two versions of the show are poorly compatible, and that's how the Sam girls and the Dean girls end up in isolated silos. A few people manage to live in both, but not many.

Anyway, I feel like without the context of how Sam and Dean change in the mid to late seasons, the two fics I recc'd as Sam character studies are going to seem insanely Dean-critical, so if you haven't read them yet, you might want to wait until s10. In the meantime, the general recs are fun reads and hopefully do a good job of showcasing both characters earlier on.

Tagging (but I would be a huge hypocrite if I didn't specify there's no pressure to respond, since I almost always fail at responding to tag games myself): @adihildilid @aliusfrater @quietwingsinthesky @sammygender @ardentpoop

@peanutbutterandbananasandwichs @schizosamwincester @normalbrothershow @jellybracelet.

[wordmade]

TOO INTO YOU

You’ve been dating around since you got into town, trying to settle into your new PR job. The work has taken its toll, but you tell yourself you can’t complain. Admitting that you feel lonely or sad would mean the job isn’t worth it. So, you’ve thrown yourself into distractions, parties, casual dating, anything to fill the quiet. A lot of it, really. But here’s the thing: you haven’t actually been on a real date. You just don’t feel the desire.

You exchange texts and share a few memes now and then, but nothing that makes you crave someone’s presence. Deep down, you suspected the issue lay with you. It’s not that the city lacks interesting or handsome men. It’s you (your trust issues), your impossibly high standards and even the standards you admit might be unrealistic.

Still, you miss the spark.

You’re a modern woman, independent and self-assured, but you long for someone who makes you want to go the extra mile. Someone kind. Gentle. Easygoing and fun, but not in a reckless way. You want to laugh and feel safe at the same time. Someone who takes care of you, not because you need it, but because they want to. But finding all that in one person? That felt impossible.

And then there’s David. The star of this recent horror movie. You two met during one of the cast’s happy hours. Your job involved preparing the team for interviews, providing guidance on what to say, what to avoid, and how to handle tricky questions. It’s demanding work, but you love it.

For months, you’ve been working closely with the cast, earning their trust and respect. It wasn’t easy at first (actors often come with egos) but your calm professionalism and keen insights quickly won them over. Your tips saved them from embarrassing moments countless times, and David, in particular, seemed to appreciate your efforts more than anyone else.

David was… different. At first glance, he’s just another handsome leading man, tall, broad-shouldered, with piercing eyes and an easy smile that could disarm even the harshest critic. But then you hear his voice, which stops you in your tracks. It’s unique, almost chameleonic. The type of voice that was stretched and shaped into every character he ever played.

It’s warm and engaging during interviews, and every word is carefully measured to draw people in. On set, it’s steady and firm. When he talks to you, it’s softer, more intimate. You loved how he could read a room and instantly change his tone.

Despite his charm and status, David was refreshingly down-to-earth. Actually, he was like a child trapped in an adult’s body (excitable, endlessly curious, and brimming with energy).

He’s also fiercely dedicated to his work, enduring grueling shooting schedules and long interviews without complaint. “I love this,” he’d say, brushing off your concern after yet another 12-hour day.

But there were moments when his exhaustion showed, like the time you caught him chugging an energy drink during a break. “That’s not sustainable,” you’d teased, and he’d laughed, as you rattled off tips for better sleep routines. He followed them religiously after that, often thanking you for “saving his mind.”

Your friendship grew in these small, simple moments. While David was popular among the crew, always the life of the party, he seemed to gravitate toward you when things slowed down.

You loved this. Because you had been gravitating him as well, but in a much more careful way.

With you, the conversations were more profound and more deliberate. He’d ask about your work, your aspirations, your thoughts on life. It was clear he valued your opinion, often seeking your guidance not just for interviews but for personal matters, too. You began to notice the way his gaze lingered a little longer when you spoke, the way he always seemed to find a reason to be near you. And yet, you convinced yourself it was all in your head. After all, David saw you as a younger sister, someone to look out for… didn’t he?

At some point, David had started seeing you differently. He’d always mentioned how he admired your dedication and how seamlessly you balanced professionalism with genuine kindness. The cast adored you, and he couldn’t ignore how many of the men on set seemed to find excuses to talk to you. But they were invisible when David was around.

Then came the night at the club. The team had gathered to celebrate the end of filming, and everyone was in high spirits.

You were enjoying yourself until an obnoxious guy decided to ruin your night. He ignored David’s presence entirely, throwing out crude remarks and invading your personal space. Before you could react, David stepped in, his usually calm demeanor replaced by something sharp. The guy backed off quickly, sensing the storm brewing in David’s fierce gaze.

Later, David insisted on driving you home. As you sat in his car, the adrenaline from earlier wore off, leaving you drained. “It must be awful to go through this on a daily basis,” he said, his voice low and tinged with guilt.

“You get used to it,” you replied, though the words felt hollow.

“You really don’t deserve this,” he said, glancing at you briefly before fixing his eyes on the road.

“And what do I deserve?” you sighed.

David was silent for a moment, clearly absorbing your words. “Sorry,” he said finally.

“Don’t be,” you replied softly as the car pulled up outside your building.

You stepped out and waved, thinking that was the end of the night. But as you fumbled with your keys, you heard footsteps behind you.

An awful thought crossed your mind, but when you turned around, you heart melted.

It was David. Still in a messy suit from before. He had put his glasses on. His hands in his pockets.

The relief you felt was embarrassing. It was problematic how this man could make you feel everything would be right.

“David? What’s wrong?” you asked, worried something had happened.

“Can I answer your question?” he said, his voice firm but laced with emotion. “You’re the type of woman a man should work hard to deserve. You care about people, for real. You go out of your way to make others comfortable. You work hard to prove yourself, and you’re good. Not just at your job but also as a person. You’re not just worried about looking good, you want to be good.”

His words hit you like a wave. You’d never seen David like this, his voice rising with his usual calm replaced by something raw and almost angry. “You deserve someone who recognizes your value. Someone who will defend you from jerks, make you laugh, but more importantly, never make you feel like you are the problem.”

You stared at him, utterly speechless. The funny thing is.. you thought the same about him. He got closer to you, his wooden perfume touching your nose.

David exhaled deeply, his broad shoulders rising and falling as if trying to steady himself. He ran a hand through his silver hair, a telltale sign of his frustration.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, his gray green eyes stuck in yours. His voice lost to find the correct register.

“I can’t pretend I didn’t care more about you than I cared about myself tonight,” he continued, his words cutting through the silence of the night.

“I fought so hard to get where I am, and to think I was willing to risk everything just to make sure that guy never looked at you again…” He paused. His whole body was tense.

“I can’t go home because I know I won’t sleep,” he admitted, his tone softening as he looked away briefly as if the admission embarrassed him. “I’ll keep replaying tonight in my head, over and over, thinking of all the ways I could have protected you better.”

There was a strange dissonance in seeing David like this. The man who could make a room burst into laughter, who always had a light-hearted comment or a joke to share, now stood before you, stripped of his usual charm, revealing a side of him you hadn’t expected, intense, protective and deeply affected.

“David…” you began, but your voice faltered. Your confidence is breaking at the realization of your effect on him. This was scary. It was a big deal.

“I will never let this happen again,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours as he took a step closer. There was no hesitation, no ambiguity in his gestures “Give me the chance to prove it.”

Your heart raced, each beat echoing in your ears. You’d never allowed yourself to imagine this, to think that David, the man who you thought saw you as a colleague, a friend, or even a little sister, could harbor feelings like this. But the intensity in his eyes left no room for doubt.

“Do you see me?” you asked, fearful of asking the whole question. Did he see you as a woman, someone he could honestly care for in the way you secretly hoped?

“Yes,” he said, his response was immediate. “I see you that way. Do you think we could ever…?” His voice still in a little off-key tone.

“Yes,” you replied instantly, the word tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself.

For the first time, you allowed your heart to hope, to believe. This wasn’t a fleeting moment or a casual crush. This was real. David wasn’t a boy fumbling with emotions; he was a man, the kind who knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to fight for it.

The realization hit you like a wave. David wasn’t just what you wanted; he was what you needed. A man who would stand beside you, defend you, and never let you question your worth.

You were surprised by how right this felt. As David stepped closer, your heart raced, his tall figure over you.

This was the start of something big, and for the first time, you were ready to fall in love.

[lyneira]

♡ attempting to flirt ♡

-> how the genshin men try to flirt with you

lyneira's 1.2k milestone event

Flirts through their words

Heizou, Cyno, Kazuha, Kaeya

I see these guys flirting primarily through their words, yet in a couple different ways.

I feel like Heizou and Kaeya would flirt by being smooth when giving you compliments or verbally teasing you, usually imbued with a seductive undertone. Even when talking to you in general, specifically about you, listen to his words carefully and you'll find a hidden meaning in there, containing his admiration and desire for you. They know which specific words to use and how to use them, dragging out certain syllables, speaking in a lower tone, changing their intonation in a way he knows makes you blush, and all that other good stuff.

Just as he's notorious for jokes, I'd think Cyno would also be notorious for making cheesy pick-up lines when trying to flirt with you. They might be cringe, but the sentiment behind them will be endearing enough to make you smile.

As for Kazuha, he knows how to use his words to describe how he feels for you and how he views you in a profound way, using the many poetic techniques to make it personal and specific to you, and only you.

Bottom line, these guys have have a way with words lol

Flirts through physical contact

Ayato, Baizhu, Childe, Venti, Kaveh

They flirt through their touch and they will never be abrupt or imposing with them. Their touches would be gentle and seemingly innocent. Maybe they might place a gentle hand on your shoulder or maybe softly graze his hand against yours when reaching for something. If you've got a stray hair blocking your face, he'll pull it away and hide the strand behind your ear so that he can clearly look upon the face that he so adores. Or if you have a crumb on your lip, he'll softly place his thumb on the corner of your mouth and wipe across to not only get rid of the crumb, but most of all, take the opportunity to feel the softness of your lips.

You know, his touches are gentle and light for a reason. They're like that to make you crave their touch even more and to instill you with a desire for them to touch you with more fervor and passion. At the same time, I see guys like Venti and Childe also touching you more forwardly. And to be clear, I'm not talking about in an indecent manner. Rather, they would be the type to cling onto your arm, pull you closer by your waist, or easily take you by the hand, all in a playful manner.

Also, you know that typical romantic scenario where the main character is learning how to do something using their hands and the love interest helps them out by coming in from behind, putting their hands on theirs and guides them? Yeah, the main character is you and the love interest is them, hehe

Flirts through eye-contact

Albedo, Diluc, Tighnari

These guys wouldn't have to say a word nor lift a finger to make it known that they admired you.

They would flirt using eye-contact and would do so subtly, and at times, purely unintentional. The sudden haze of longing and desire clouding their gaze and their half-lidded eyes would tend to occur subconsciously when they're simply interacting with you or even just staring at you from afar. One might even equate this look to "bedroom eyes", and it might as well be with how intense it was. It would be an intense look that let you know that their mind and their focus was solely on you at the moment.

Like, he can be totally silent or be talking to you about the weather, but was he really thinking about the weather? Nah, not at all. With that look on his face, bro was clearly thinking of you.

They CAN'T flirt

Xiao, Scaramouche, Itto, Gorou

They get embarrassed with any attempt to show attraction. It's not that they're unsure of their feelings for you, they're just unsure of how to make them known without ending up being too direct and scaring you off. They'll be very unsure of themselves and won't know if they're doing it right.

They'd be too proud to ask for advice, so they'll try to flirt their own way, but I think they'd end up putting themselves in awkward sitautions and would eventually become so frustrated with their poor attempts that they just ask you out or confess to you directly lol

They don't flirt

Zhongli, Alhaitham, Dainsleif, Thoma

They'd rather be direct with their intentions. If they're interested in you, they'll let you know clearly. After all, they'd prefer to show their interest in a genuine manner, being straightforward in all of your conversations and really taking the time to get to know and understand you in order to make fruitful attempts to earn your trust and your love.

Bonus:

Flirts through their words + physical touch + eye contact

AYATO, Kaveh, Heizou, Kaeya

These dudes are the very definition of a smooth casanova. They'll use all of their assets to make their desire for you known and attempt to woo you.

They'll not only tease you by touch through fingers, but through the feathery touch of his lips on your skin as well. Maybe as he whispers into your ear, his lips will slightly graze it, or when he takes your hand to kiss atop of it, he'll try to make you swoon.

As for eye-contact, he'd gaze at you with a sultry look in his eyes intentionally rather than unintentionally, and tends to use it when he's up-close in front of you, where you're able to look deep into his eyes.

They'll also charm you with compliments and witty remarks, but what will truly captivate you are the promises that he makes. Anyone can easily make false promises in order to woo someone over, but what makes them different is that they truly follow through with what they say and promise to you. He may be a casanova, but he's also a gentleman!

Overall, I see them being more direct with their flirting, showing that they're unafraid of revealing their affections and desire for you. Really, they want everyone to know that they want you. Their confidence and natural rizz will ward off anyone else seeking to do the same.

© 2023 lyneira. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, PLAGIARIZE, OR REPOST MY WRITING ONTO OTHER PLATFORMS

[saudrag]

my take on the ending, especially aziraphale’s behaviour.

all this fandom talk “this couldn’t be our aziraphale”, “metatron put something in the coffee”, “everything in the end seems odd” really weirded me out. for me it’s equal to “i dont want all that complicated writing, for me the simple one is easier to process” like. i get it, really. but from writer’s point of view it sounds kinda… debasing. neil just gave us an amazing social problem analogy with organised religion slash abusive family and how it brainwashes & manipulates people who are so desperate to make any difference that they reach out to religion, their last instance. people abandon their loved ones for it, because they’re “unholy” and “sinful” and don’t want to join them.

there is that aziraphale/heaven parallel with nina and her ex. nina just realised that her ex was abusive and now she needs time to heal, but maggie would not abandon her, she would be right there.

it’s exactly what is happening and what will happen with azi in season 3.

aziraphale never truly left heaven, not in his mind, at least, and now, when he was the most vulnerable, heaven waved in front of his face with “you can come back, change everything and be with the person you love the most, so you can be all happy together” and azi just couldn’t say no to THAT. to his memory of angel!crowley, being so joyful and cheerful and happy with just bring able to create, to make beauty. what he didn’t realise is, that he was being manipulated. as a victim of brainwashing by my own parent for DECADES, I can tell you that azi couldn’t just “open his eyes” randomly and realise without something really PROFOUND happening to him. (that is remains for neil to tell us, what it will be).

for me it was separation, my parent’s fast decreasing mental health, and a LOT of outer influence (talks with my other parent, friends, discussions about the abuse of my other parent). the last straw was one of my visits.

we are yet to see it in s3.

aziraphale being an analogy for a victim of brainwashing by organised religion (“parents”) is a genius writing, something that you don’t see often in tv shows. but explaining his behaviour by “metatron just drugged him that’s why our angel is acting weird” is SO DEBASING and for aziraphale’s whole character, and for neil gaiman, and for me, as a victim

[mareastrorum]

I hope that having the Mighty Nein around helps the cast help each other with the stagnant parts of Bell’s Hells character arcs.

The Hells are not good at communicating with each other about their faults. Enter Jester, Veth, and Caduceus, who absolutely will call people out on shit without shame or malice.

The Hells have a narrow view of religion. Here’s Yasha, whose god helped her break away from an apocalyptic cult; Caduceus, who was raised in a religious household and likes helping people even when they don’t share his faith; Fjord, who found peace and self-acceptance with guidance from a goddess who asks so little of him; Jester, who somehow has cleric powers from her fey best friend whom she also carries around as her weasel sometimes; and Beau, who doesn’t worship Ioun outright, but still thinks she’s not bad and seeks out a connection at times.

The Hells don’t much care about other people when they talk about what the world should be like. Here’s Caleb, who wanted to turn back time, then got Wish and could do it literally any day he pleased, but has accepted that in order to change from the boy who was willing to kill his parents, he has to be the man that won’t break the world to bring them back. Beau accepted that people can be flawed in how they love, but she couldn’t let that decide whether she or anyone else is worth love or protection; her whole job is about trying to help the people of the Empire when systems don’t care about them. Fjord handed over an eye of Uk’otoa to save Jester’s life, and then immediately got the Nein back together to defeat Uk’otoa rather than let other people suffer the consequences for his choice.

The Hells were sympathetic to the All-Minds-Burn and only really balked at the Weave Mind because there was a controlling group at the top instead of a regular hive mind. Here’s the team that destroyed Cognouza because it turns out hive minds are a great way for despots to directly control a lot of people and use them like resources. Yasha and Caleb also have profound experience with mind control, conditioning, and memory wiping.

The Hells have some serious identity issues that haven’t been addressed because there’s just no time. (Ashton was an aasimar turned into a genasi; Laudna was treated like a Vex voodoo doll by a wizard who hates Vex; Fearne was conceived and sought specifically to be an exaltant vessel for Predathos; Imogen was hidden to avoid that.) Veth was turned into a goblin by a hag, was racist against goblins for years, eventually realized that her racism came from self-hatred for traits she shared with a specific goblin tribe, and got turned back into a halfling thanks to the dedication of her friends. Fjord wrestled with determining who he was before realizing he had to choose, and that didn’t mean there was a right or wrong choice; just that he couldn’t be someone else.

Like, the Nein would be great for some targeted discussion of these points if the Hells let their judgmental bullshit shine through at any point. It’s just a question of whether (a) the cast want to and put in the effort to do that, and (b) how much time they have to spare for those conversations.

[aerequets]

Ur art is such an inspiration and motivation for me, as a fellow artist. I’ve been following ur stuff for a bit now and I was wondering how you decided to draw loid, yor, and anya the way you do. I say this bc I really want to start making my own fan arts, but i struggle to take this anime style and have these character read as [insert character] without it being in a “anime style.”

And I guess this applies to any character you want take from a media, and translate it into your style. Bc i don’t necessarily think ur art style is considered “anime” i kinda just see it as an abstraction ig. But even if it is, it isn’t in the style of anime show is yk? Yet the characters read as who they’re supposed to be.

And I think a while back you u mentioned that you were struggling on decided how to draw loid. ig i wanna know How did you come to the decision that “yes, this looks correct and I wanna draw him like this.”

Is it finding defining feature and proportions? Just messing around until you figure something out? And I assume you make a character sheet to keep it consistent?

Like i literally go to art school but cant draw anything without a reference photo and it killing me 😔💀💀

Sorry for the yapp i’m just down bad rn and really love ur work. Please help be get out of the reference photo trap😭

Also sorry if this reads weird and has errors i’m sleep deprived and can’t bring myself to go back and reread

WHAIUGOUGH???? UR TOO KIND??? THANK U

i will try my best to answer below, but i dont think it is anything profound or super secret lmao

so i think that artists get really caught up with finding/establishing a style when they are first starting out. i say this because i was no different. to me it was like 'oh if i have a style then i am a Real artist instead of just a copier'

but like, i think that order is backwards. like the more that you draw things you enjoy, the more those drawings will become your own and in your 'style' if that makes sense. heavy emphasis on the quantity here. you just gotta go really at it. and the best way to do this is through sheer quantity tbh.

however at the same time, i dont really agree with the whole 'draw x things per day every day' thing cuz sometimes thats just hard man. i mean you mentioned you were in art school so you're probably drawing every day anyways, but for a hobbyist or fanartist (me lol) its mostly based on whether u feel like drawing or not. Which is why its rlly cool when you have a show/book/movie/anything you're really into which makes you want to draw more! it becomes something fun rather than a chore.

so basically, dont view a style as something you have to develop right away, or turn drawing into a chore, because that will be very counteractive trust me.

another important thing i wanted to mention, you said "reference photo trap" but ITS NOT A TRAP! USE REFERENCES!!! REFERENCES ARE IMPORTANT AND GOOD (i am assuming you already know this, but using references is not the same as tracing. just to make it clear)

this is another thing common with newer artists (and of course how i used to be), where you feel like you have to draw 'from your mind' for it to be an indicator of any skill. NOT TRUE!! you need to use references to get better!

lastly, to answer your question (as best i can lol) there was never any point when i decided 'yes this is it' when drawing. you just draw and draw and keep changing and growing. it is a little of everything you said (defining features, proportions, messing around) but it is also just drawing a lot and having fun! :D oh and i definitely do not have a character sheet. i am not anywhere near that organized LMAO

[nasa]

For the Benefit of All: Assistive Tech Developed from NASA Tech

What do modern cochlear implants and robotic gloves have in common? They were derived from NASA technology. We’ve made it easier to find and use our patented inventions that could help create products that enhance life for people with disabilities.

October is National Disability Employment Awareness Month, which highlights the contributions of American workers with disabilities – many of whom use assistive technology on the job. Take a look at these assistive technologies that are NASA spinoffs.

Low-Vision Headsets

The Joint Optical Reflective Display (JORDY) device is a headset that uses NASA image processing and head-mounted display technology to enable people with low vision to read and write. JORDY enhances individuals’ remaining sight by magnifying objects up to 50 times and allowing them to change contrast, brightness, and display modes. JORDY's name was inspired by Geordi La Forge, a blind character from “Star Trek: The Next Generation” whose futuristic visor enabled him to see.

Cochlear Implants

Work that led to the modern cochlear implant was patented by a NASA engineer in the 1970s. Following three failed corrective surgeries, Adam Kissiah combined his NASA electronics know-how with research in the Kennedy Space Center technical library to build his own solution for people with severe-to-profound hearing loss who receive little or no benefit from hearing aids. Several companies now make the devices, which have been implanted in hundreds of thousands of people around the world.

Robotic Gloves

Ironhand, from Swedish company Bioservo Technologies, is the world’s first industrial-strength robotic glove for factory workers and others who perform repetitive manual tasks. It helps prevent stress injuries but has been especially warmly received by workers with preexisting hand injuries and conditions. The glove is based on a suite of patents for the technology developed by NASA and General Motors to build the hands of the Robonaut 2 humanoid robotic astronaut.

Smart Glasses

Neurofeedback technology NASA originally developed to improve pilots’ attention has been the basis for products aimed at helping people manage attention disorders without medication. The devices measure brainwave output to gauge attention levels according to the “engagement index” a NASA engineer created. Then, they show the results to users, helping them learn to voluntarily control their degree of concentration. One such device is a pair of smart glasses from Narbis, whose lenses darken as attention wanes.

Anti-Gravity Treadmills

A NASA scientist who developed ways to use air pressure to simulate gravity for astronauts exercising in space had the idea to apply the concept for the opposite effect on Earth. After licensing his technology, Alter-G Inc. developed its anti-gravity G-Trainer treadmill, which lets users offload some or all of their weight while exercising. The treadmills can help people recover from athletic or brain injuries, and they allow a safe exercise regimen for others with long-term conditions such as arthritis.

Wireless Muscle Sensors

Some of the most exciting assistive technologies to spin off may be yet to come. Delsys Inc. developed electromyographic technology to help NASA understand the effects of long-term weightlessness on astronauts’ muscles and movements. Electromyography detects and analyzes electrical signals emitted when motor nerves trigger movement. Among the company’s customers are physical therapists developing exercise routines to help patients recover from injuries. But some researchers are using the technology to attempt recoveries that once seemed impossible, such as helping paralyzed patients regain movement, letting laryngectomy patients speak, and outfitting amputees with artificial limbs that work like the real thing.  

To further enhance the lives of people with disabilities, NASA has identified a selection of patented technologies created for space missions that could spur the next generation of assistive technology here on Earth.

Want to learn more about assistive technologies already in action? Check out NASA Spinoff to find products and services that wouldn’t exist without space exploration.   

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[theguildawards]

Term 2 2024 Winners!

Thank you to everyone who participated in the second term 2024 hosted by The Guild Awards! The mod-team is excited to see so much amazing fanwork and their creators recognized, as well as the love shown for this fandom!

Without further delay, here we are!

Winners of The Guild Awards for Term 2 2024

Best Action/Adventure Fiction: "Flame's Desire" by @kiliinstinct / rougescribe (AO3) Best Alternate Universe/Reality Fiction: "More than just a Fairy Tail" by @chaotickori Best Canon Fiction: "So This Is What Home Feels Like" by @spot-of-tea / spot_of_tea (AO3) Best Angst Fiction: "Redemption" by @spot-of-tea / spot_of_tea (AO3) Best Dark Fiction: "The Last of Us" by @classysassy9791 Best Drama Fiction (tie): "Accepting Fate" by Perfect Memories (FFN) and "World's End: Aftermath" by CairnCircles (AO3) Best Humor/Parody Fiction: "Magic Council Complaint Form #1024: there are mages hiding in the trash cans" by Fireflower34 (AO3) Best Oneshot: "is/was/will be" by Fireflower34 (AO3) Best Character Portrayal: "Silence" (Gajeel) by @firapolemos05 Best Romance Fiction: "Accepting Fate" by Perfect Memories (FFN) Best LGBTQ+ Romance Fiction: "Between Moon and Venus" by Woethe (AO3) Best Serial Fiction: "Taming The Beast" by @dawnwynters Best Ficlet: "Fairy Tail Platonic Week 2024 -Chapter 2: I Missed Our Shenanigans" by @fairytail-multishipper /Luminousrain (AO3) Best NSFW Fiction: “Love Rehabilitation” by annequinox (AO3) Best Completed Fiction: "Finding Forgiveness" by @teleiapotami / Teleia_Potami (AO3) Best Action/Adventure Artwork: "Team Natsu" by @astral-fairyy Best Alternate Universe/Reality Artwork: "the haters can't stop me" by @captainuranium543 Best Canon Artwork: "Red, The Colour of Life" by @pencilofawesomeness Best Angst Artwork: “Happy Rogue Day🖤🐸” by @oryu404 Best Dark Artwork: ""Acnologia Eats Irene" by @love---mandy Best Humor/Parody Artwork: "Pay back" by @shiiro-arts Best Kiss Artwork: "untitled" by @lidiscr Best Romance Artwork: "a soft Lokana" by @artsophiehml Best LGBTQ+ Romance Artwork: "causing problems and sucking face" by @phoenix-before-the-flame Best Character Artwork: "My first fashion icon was Lucy" by @hyun-illus Best Duo/Pairing Artwork: "Leave this to us" by @celestialrayna Best Group Depiction Artwork: "Team Natsu" by @ars-de-elysium Best Manga Coloring: "Fairy Tail/Lolu Coloring" by @almaween Best Redraw Artwork: "erza redraw" by @raptortier Best Overall Artwork: "Art Contest" by @pencilequipped

Congratulations to all the winners! Your awards will be ready soon! Please send one of the mods or our ask box your preferred email address so we can send them to you!

And thank you to those who voted for the Roulette Category for next term! The Roulette fanfiction category for next term will be: Best Mystery Fiction. This will be defined as: A story that has a character holding a profound secret or something kept cautiously concealed. May tend to excite curiosity or wonder in the reader, or may include something that cannot be explained.

As this term comes to a close, The Guild Awards will be taking a short hiatus. This time is always spent reviewing the process and seeing what can be revamped for the next term. We also love hearing from the fandom (ie: YOU!) for suggestions regarding any changes or additions.

We will officially be back in full swing on March 1st! We will still be around in case you have questions or concerns, but please take this time to read new fanfiction and find new fanart.

Want to stay immersed in all things Fairy Tail? Join our Discord! It's open to everyone!

You can also keep up-to-date with all current fandom events by checking out the @ftguildevents page!

As the day gets closer to the start of the next term, we will be keeping everyone in the loop when it comes to changes and updates. We hope everyone has a lovely holiday season! Thank you again for making this such a fun experience! See you soon!

~ The Guild Awards