#and a few other color edits. but she's MOSTLY unchanged

[mizuno-marmalade]

first wanpre fanart wooo!!! saw a lot of art of nyammy lillian & wonderful, but not as much of friendy so i drew her <33

#with minor design changes #like the gloves/ the trim on her shawl/ the color of the top skirt layer #the gold on the bodice/ the little bit that's underneath the top skirt #and a few other color edits. but she's MOSTLY unchanged #inukai iroha #iroha inukai #cure friendy #wonderful precure #wonderful pretty cure #wanpre #wonpre #pretty cure #precure #precure fanart #digital artwork #digital art #ibispaintx #ibispaint art #artists on tumblr #mizuno art tag

[littlebluedragonspetz]

The Rainbow Splatoon

A collection of colorful squid catz, on the day of release of the Inklingz breed file on [BAD_DEATH] I definitely went a little overboard and decided to collect one of every color. The little menagerie was cute... But also quite same-y as, all being from the Adoption Center, they all had very similar personalities with only a few of them having some noteworthy differences. Cute, but I could not help but feel I would inevitably gravitate to a single or pair of favorites among the bunch and forget the rest...

But then...

I had started tinkering with hex editing, starting first with Light and Corvo. I learned quite a lot and with that knowledge I returned my thoughts to my squid catz and asked, "Could I make the Rainbow Splatoon better by making them all a little more unique from each other?" The answer is "<コ:彡 yeah!"

Name: Rose SCP: BD Inklingz (Calico-based non-OW) Personality: Playful, kind and friendly (Unchanged control) Favorite Color: Yellow Favorite Flavor: Fish Description: The control of the Rainbow Splatoon, Rose is mostly unaltered and only features a change to her tentacle tips and toes to yellow to match the rest of her peers. She loves the other Inklingz but they aren't always the kindest to her.

Name: Butterscotch SCP: Alley Cat Personality: Aggressive, stubborn and independent Favorite Color: Red Favorite Flavorz: Soft + Bone Description: The fighter of the Rainbow Splatoon, Butterscotch is belligerent and quick to pick fights with everyone else. Well, almost everyone else: Maya's chill vibes and lack of fear around Butterscotch makes the teal Inkling the orange warrior's only friend among the seven squidz.

Name: Sunglow SCP: Orange Shorthair Personality: Anxious, timid but playful Favorite Color: Blue Favorite Flavor: Chicken Description: The scaredy-cat of the Rainbow Splatoon, Sunglow bolts at practically anything and is a sensitive little squid. She really does worry herself sick! At least when she isn't running from misinterpreted "threats" she proves to be a playful squid kitty.

Name: Jade SCP: Persian Personality: Lazy, gluttonous and relaxed Favorite Color: Pink Favorite Flavor: Turkey Description: The sleepyhead of the Rainbow Splatoon, Jade spends much of her time, well, sleeping between her time spent eating. And she is not picky about what she eats! Not even the dog food is off limits to this little glutton!

Name: Maya SCP: Russian Blue Personality: Calm, confident and stubborn Favorite Color: Purple Favorite Flavorz: Chicken + Sweet Description: The free-spirit of the Rainbow Splatoon, Maya keeps her cool in even the most heated situations (which proves useful with how crazy some of her peers can get). That same chill vibe does give her a bit of a stubborn side.

Name: Lapis SCP: Siamese Personality: Proud, independent and clever Favorite Color: Orange Favorite Flavorz: Fish + Catnip Description: The snob of the Rainbow Splatoon, Lapis isn't one for play and tends to keep only a few close confidantes among her peers but who knows how long that will last. She does seem to have a soft spot for puppiez and kittenz, though.

Name: Eminence SCP: Chinchilla Persian Personality: Spoiled, gentle but clingy Favorite Color: Green Favorite Flavorz: Sweet + Soft Description: The princess of the Rainbow Splatoon, Eminence loves being the center of attention and is eager to please so long as everyone else heaps the praise. She is legitimately friendly but her tendency towards throwing tantrums when things don't go her way can make her come across as abrasive at times.

Bonus Facts! 1. When editing everyone I approached how I would change everyone like how I approach character design for animals. I also changed everyone according to how they should act around one another as the seven would be seeing each other quite a lot! 2. Some traits that I did not touch included Maya and Eminence being friends from the start, Lapis having high finickiness and Sunglow and Eminence naturally being tricksters. Some of them also had 100 in certain stats that aligned with the personality I was building for them so I kept them at 100. 3. If you are unfamiliar with Splatoon fanart it's not unusual to come across Inkling and Octoling OCs with bi-colored hair. As much as the plan was to leave Rose completely unaltered I couldn't resist adding this detail when I realized I could swap around textures.

#petz #petz 5 #hexed breedz #inkling #inklingz #rose #butterscotch #sunglow #jade #lapis #eminence #the rainbow splatoon #rainbow splatoon #petz hexing #petz pc #catz #catz 5

[kmpac]

Caught in the Rain

➸ 13+

➸ Summary: Being a college kid is a lot of stress, especially when you get deserted by your best friend and have to ask your crush to give you a ride in the rain...

➸ Word count: 2K

➸ Pairing: college student Min Yoongi x college student y/n

➸ Genre: So much fluff

➸ Warnings: like...one curse word, maybe?

➸ A/N: Two nights in a row I had this dream of Yoongi. He had something to say for his birthday, so for his birthday, I decided to put it on paper for you all. I have not edited it at all, so please be gentle with me until I’m able to go back through it. I didn’t want to miss his birthday...

You knew you shouldn’t have opened your big trap. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be standing here in the cold, drenched with rain. But as the saying goes, you get what you pay for.

It was a regular Wednesday evening for you, a college student, desperately trying to juggle your 19 credit hours, as well as study time. As such, you were entirely focused in that moment on getting a few studying hours in before you inevitably had to get home and go to bed, only to start all over again, especially since you had a test tomorrow in Anatomy. Your best friend, Sarah, however, had different plans for how to spend her free evening and talked to you non-stop, while you stressed over your grades versus being a good friend.

Her boyfriend was acting suspect, and being a pretty big jerk when Sarah confronted him about a text message on his phone from a girl that looked like a request for a booty call. She hadn’t snooped, just seen his phone light up on the coffee table, while she was over “Netflix and chilling” with him one night. You were trying so hard to equally be a good friend, and a good student, but after mixing up the Parietal and Occipital bones in the skull for the 5th time in a row, you turned to Sarah and said “Honey, he is cheating on you. You need to break up with him. Cut ties. You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

While the sentiment was certainly meant to help, it was said in a raised voice that instead communicated frustration, rather than understanding, and it sent a bulldozer straight at Sarah. Your brain took a little longer to catch up to what you had done, but Sarah didn’t have the same problem as she grabbed her bag and, with tears in her eyes, flew toward the stairs. When you woke up from your temporary daze, you started down the stairs after her, trying to apologize, but Sarah wasn’t hearing it. Down the stairs through the humanities building she went and out the front door into the rain and cold of night. You were a bit behind, so when you finally made it out into the pouring rain, she had already entered her car and drove away when you remembered she was your ride.

You stood under a portico, trying to shield your phone as you called Sarah repeatedly, to no avail. She refused to answer. The realization that the campus was mostly empty and it was 10pm on a Wednesday night suddenly struck you, and the tears started to fall as you kicked yourself at your stupidity.

Sarah always had been sensitive about her boyfriend. She should have broken up with him 10 times over, but you always dried her tears and ate ice cream with her listening to her problems, but never interfering. It would have continued to be that way, if not for that stupid test. Remembering the test had you running back up to the second floor to grab your bag and pack it the best you could with tears clouding your vision. The building was dead silent and most of the lights were off at this point. You hadn’t realized it had gotten so late. Somehow, being alone always intensified the awareness of silence, and this was no different. 

You were shivering as you had gotten soaked to the bone in the rain, and were only wearing a hoodie over your tee shirt and jeans. You pulled your phone out again to call Sarah. She again didn’t answer. You tried Deanna, your neighbor, no answer. You tried Amy, your lab partner, no answer. You weren’t exactly the most social sophomore on campus, and unfortunately your family were all miles and miles away, unable to help, so why scare them with this?

You were frantically searching your brain for anyone you could call, while also contemplating trying Sarah’s boyfriend, the jerk, when you noticed a light on in the building next door. It was the library, and should have been your study spot, but there were generally too many people there, and you preferred the quiet of the Humanities building, where you could stretch out on a couch and comfortably absorb information. But right now, that building might be your saving grace. You scanned the lit window for a familiar face when you stumbled upon Min Yoongi. 

THE Min Yoongi.

Coolest guy on campus, as far as you were concerned. Quiet. Speculative. Barely spoke or acknowledged anyone except when absolutely necessary. Always had a pair of headphones in his ears, even during class, like he didn’t even care if the teachers noticed. And while such a person might normally seem like a snob, he was the opposite. He had a kind of quiet patience with everyone around him. You had first met him Freshman year in a Music Theory class and you were astonished by his knowledge and creative thinking. You started sitting next to him, to hopefully absorb some of his genius, as you were not the most naturally gifted at Music of any kind, though you loved to listen to music (hence why you chose the class for your elective). 2 years later, you liked to think of him as a friend, but the kind of friend you want to make out with.

Did you mention he was also incredibly hot? With cat like eyes, a soft nose, skin like porceline, and the poutiest mouth you’d ever seen, you were constantly one bad choice away from attacking him. You had always held back, worried that a guy like that would never see a total nerd like you as anything but a friend. Hell, here you were with your hair pulled into yesterday’s ponytail and your baggiest hoodie and jeans, and that was before you got drowned in the rain.

Either way, you needed a ride home, and Yoongi was your only shot at a knight in shinning armor.

Thinking that thought had you imagining him scooping you up and rescuing you, even as you ran down the stairs and back out into the rain.

It was embarrassing to say the least to walk through the library, probably looking a hot mess as you passed other late night studiers who lined the library tables and chairs. You got more than one odd look as you tried to tuck your frizzed wet hair behind your ears and make your way to Yoongi, but you felt the tears coming again as your situation only grew worse with each step. Not only had you lost your ride, and precious last minute studying hours, but now you were being stared at like a lunatic, while you went to beg your crush to rescue you, while looking the exact opposite of how you wished to look in his presence. 

When you made it to where he was sitting you noticed he had headphones on and was working on something on his laptop and didn’t notice your approach until you were directly in front of him. When he did notice you, his eyes only marginally widened at the look of you, but otherwise his face remained unchanged as he slowly removed one headphone from his ear in a universal signal to speak. 

You coughed and tried not to cry more as you explained your situation. As you gestured, you noticed water cascading from your sleeve and something about it set you off again and you burst into silent tears as you turned around to hide it from Yoongi. This was a bad idea. But then you heard his laptop close with a snap and when you turned around he was standing and slinging his backpack over his back. 

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, y/n?” He said in his deep monotone voice. “I’m taking you home.”

You started to apologize and tell him, he didn’t have to leave that you would find another way home, but he told you to shut up, so you did. You followed him out into the rain and into his car that was parked in the adjoining parking lot, berating yourself the whole way. What were you actually thinking? This was a terrible idea. The voice in your head was so loud, you almost didn’t hear him ask for your address until he handed you his phone with GPS open. You typed in your address and put on your seatbelt, apologizing silently for all the water you got in his car.

At first, you traveled in silence, with only the radio to fill the awkwardness of the situation. You had never been in such an intimate setting with Yoongi before and you were feeling it, but for his part, he looked as cool as a cucumber.

“So what is Sarah’s deal anyway?” He asked suddenly, snapping your attention back forward to the road.

“What do you mean?”

“Why does she put up with that guy? He’s a jerk.”

“My words exactly.”

“So she got mad because you told her the truth?” He asked with a laugh in his voice, though his eyes never left the road.

“It’s kind of girl code. Only offer your opinion if it agrees with the person you are giving the advice to.”

“That’s stupid.”

You laughed in a nervous manner as you agreed with him.

For a time after, you both drifted into companionable silence as the music coming out of the speakers mixed with the rain sounds outside. It was like a lullaby to calm your wounded soul, and you finally felt at peace and content; healed by this quiet soothing man beside you.

“This song is pretty,” you said as your head rested against the window, letting the vibrations of the song float through your body.

“Thanks. I wrote it,” he said causing your gazes to clash, one in astonishment and one in shyness.

“Yoongi, it’s...amazing.”

You were lost for words and his face looked sheepish, but the darkness of the night didn’t reveal if his cheeks were colored pink in that moment.

“Almost there,” he said and coughed to draw your attention away from him and onto the road. Sure enough, you had just turned onto your street, lined with apartment buildings, and at the end stood yours that you shared with Sarah. You sat up and mentally prepared yourself for the fight you would have when you went in, so you didn’t notice Yoongi assessing you from the driver’s seat.

As he pulled to a stop, you noticed Sarah’s car wasn’t in it’s normal spot. She must have gone to her boyfriend’s place. You felt a wave of emotions again, but you stamped it down, not wanting to fall apart in front of Yoongi again.

You turned to him with an affectionate smile, and he returned it with his signature grin of a flat line with just a slight upturn on either end. It had more of an impact on you than he probably intended. He not only rescued you, but he was acting as though it was the easiest thing in the world, to pick up everything and drive you across town because you didn’t have a ride. And maybe for him, this wasn’t a big deal, but it was to you. It made your cold, wet body glow in affection for this man who quietly stood up from a table like the obvious answer was to drive you home.

In light of this fluttering feeling, your body seemed to have a mind of its own as it lunged forward to kiss his cheek. If you had time to realize what you were doing, you would have certainly stopped yourself. What a silly notion, to kiss your crush on the cheek! AND so spontaneously. That was so not you!

And yet here you were, whole body in motion toward your savior, your crush, your friend. But in your bid to sweetly wish him a goodnight, you miscalculated and ended up just a few inches to the right and your lips, however briefly, made contact with the corner of Yoongi’s mouth. Your eyes went wide, as did Yoongi’s once he realized what was actually happening, and as though time went from going much too slow to going much too fast, you flinched as your face became a flame.

“I am so sorry, I don’t know why I just did that,” you started to say as you turned away toward the door, but before you were able to pull the handle, a hand at the back of your head was pulling you back again. 

You had no time to appreciate the coolness of his fingers against your feverish neck or the look on his face, for before you could even form a thought your mouth was firmly pressed, not to the corner, but fully on his pouty mouth. You were sure you were imagining it, but it definitely seemed, and felt, like Yoongi had pulled you into a searing and rough kiss. It was just lips to lips, and probably only lasted a moment, but the electrical current that ran through your entire body, set you alight. And then before you knew what was what, he was letting go again and turning back to the steering wheel.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he said, and now that you were only inches from his face, you could clearly see the blush, and notice the way his fingers tapped in a jittery pattern against the steering wheel. Your shyness somehow caught up with you and you pulled away abruptly and turned again to the door with a mumbled, “night,” or so you hoped. You couldn’t be for sure, as your head was reeling.

You were right at the door when you heard a voice in your head tell you to shoot your shot. Oddly it sounded a lot like Yoongi’s voice, which made you giggle and bite your lip as you turned. The view was one of a nervous Yoongi looking like he was internally berating himself, and you were pretty certain you had never seen anything cuter in your life. So before you had time to second guess yourself, you turned your whole body toward this perfect, wonderful man…

And kissed him.

Not like he had kissed you. No. That was rushed as though you would never get another chance. Full of uncertainty and nervousness.

No, you kissed him so tenderly and gently that he could not misinterpret your intentions.

Your mouth caressed his and he returned in kind as his arms left the steering wheel to latch onto either side of your head, fingers buried in your hair. You opened your mouth as invitation and he didn’t hesitate as his tongue found yours in a dance of equal energy. You found yourself gasping, and your wet fingers found either side of his hoodie to pull him closer. You wanted to be sure he knew exactly how you felt about him.

Suddenly a low deep moan escaped his mouth and you realized where you were. In his car, 10:30pm the night before a test, drenched and probably getting sick from the rain, with your dream man’s tongue down your throat. This could easily become something else, but you still had a friendship to redeem and a test to ace. Giving Yoongi the biggest smile you were capable of, you pulled away. His face was lit up, like it so rarely was, with so many emotions and you knew this would not be the last time you’d find yourself lip locked in his car.

“Thank you for bringing me home,” you said softly as you rubbed your nose against his cute one.

“Anytime,” he said with a half grin, showing his teeth.

You turned again to reach for the handle and this time he let you. By now the rain had stopped and you marveled at how you hadn’t even noticed. You pulled the door wide and felt a shiver run over your wet clothes and you grabbed your bag and exited. 

Before the door closed though, Yoongi called your name.

“Can I call you tomorrow?” he was asking as he leaned against the center consul to get a good look at you from under his hair.

You smiled and laughed as you walked backward with your bag swinging in your hand.

“You better.”

You laughed at your absurdly flirtation response as you jogged up to your apartment and went in the main doors. From the other side you peeked out the window to get your last good look at Yoongi and he was leaning back in his seat looking like the cat who got the cream, and you figured you probably looked the same.

Heroes come in all shapes and sizes. You were glad yours was a cute cat eyed, gummy smiled, gorgeous boy.

#yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #bts yoongi #college student yoongi #happy birthday yoongi

[highqueenofelfhame]

As soon as they were out of the car, Aelin was reaching for Aedion and lacing their fingers together. Lysandra appeared on her other side, arm looping through her own as they surrounded her as a steadying force. Aedion pressed a kiss to her temple, murmuring that he would be right beside her the whole time. It felt silly, needing so much support to walk into a house, but it was support that she couldn’t be without today. 

They stood in front of the manor, the place she had grown up. Her home. Aelin had still failed to go inside, but she wanted to visit the grounds before bringing Rowan back to go through her father’s study. The primary concern was that if she didn’t, she would have some sort of a breakdown over the whole affair. 

The manor itself was massive. When they’d pulled up to the front, they circled the large fountain before parking in front of the stairs that lead to the main entry. To her right, the green house jutted out slightly, the large dome of the glass ceiling sparkling in the sun. Stone banisters curled around the greenhouse, snaking around the back of the manor. Nearly all the window panes were covered in ivy, even the main portion of the house that leaned on being more gothic-style in architecture with spires reaching for the clouds. 

Banisters lined the flat roof, a place Aedion and Aelin had spent many nights pointing out constellations and dozing under the cover of the moon. When they got older, Sam had joined them, too. It’d always been something special, something soothing when things were rough. Part of her wished desperately that she had let herself grieve her parents and Sam with Aedion up on that roof, shielded by the dark blanket of the night. But it was a little late for that now. 

Exhaling slowly, she released Aedion’s hand to begin her ascent up the stairs. She was careful to avoid the icy patches on the steps that had yet to completely thaw under the mid-morning sun. With her support system behind her, she couldn’t help but feel her stomach twisting at how odd it felt to be going home at long last. It was familiar, it was home. But somehow it felt foreign and cold. 

Aelin pulled out the key and unlocked the door, a heavy exhale dropping from her lips as the door swung open to reveal the grand staircases on either side of the entry. In the center was an abundant floral arrangement on a large marble table. It was opulent and every bit the home you’d expect a Lord and Lady of Terrasen to live in. 

Down the hall to the left, sugary confections were being made in the kitchens. The smell made her stomach grumble and tugged her toward it, begging her to go see, to go taste. If she’d missed anything about life at the manor, it was Marion Lochan’s baking she had so often snuck down to the kitchens for in the middle of the night. She followed the smells, taking in the sight of the manor that remained, for the most part, completely unchanged. 

When she reached the door to the kitchen, a voice was humming along to a song and she knew immediately who the voice belonged to. Pushing into the room, she received a double-take from both women behind the counter before the younger of the two was bounding across the room and throwing her arms around her neck. 

“Oh, Aelin!” She breathed, squeezing her tightly. Aelin melted into her embrace as Marion joined them, kissing Aelin’s head and running a hand through her hair. It was impossible to resist melting into the embrace, to feel a motherly touch after so long of living the way she had been. Her life the last few years had been hard, by no one’s fault but her own, and she sorely regretted not coming back to this sooner. Her eyes instantly teared up as she shifted to hug Marion tightly, her face pressing into the matron’s neck.

Marion was the head of household. When her parents were away, she had often been in charge of Aelin and everything that entailed. As a young girl, she’d played and tutored with Elide constantly. When Elide had grown older she had become Aelin’s hand maid. However, they were so much more than servants or people that worked in the house. They were family, and that was that. 

Marion was like a second mother. Not in the sense that Evalin Ashryver had ever for a second been inadequate in any way. In fact, her mom was the best mother in the world, she’d wager. But Marion had always been a steady constant in her life, had always been there if Evalin was out of reach. Marion and Evalin had been the best of friends, sisters of sorts. Elide had quickly become the same to Aelin, someone that had become like a little sister that she’d never had. Elide had harbored all of Aelin’s secrets like a sister, never once selling her out for sneaking out her bedroom window to spend nights on the lake with Sam. 

“Welcome home, my love,” Marion said softly against her hair, hands running soothingly over her shoulder blades. She pulled back slightly, wiping the tears from Aelin’s cheeks. Elide, however, was beaming. 

“Aedion mentioned you were due to come by today. We’re making your favorite.” 

“Chocolate hazelnut cake!” She exclaimed, having known as soon as the front door had opened what would be awaiting her down the hall. “Thank you. Really, you didn’t have to.”

“Go finish having a look,” Marion insisted. “I’ll call for you when it’s finished.” So following instruction, Aelin nodded and left the kitchen to explore the house that had built her.

Not a single thing had changed, even when she got to her own bedroom. It had been kept tidy and clean, nothing out of place and no dust bunnies in sight. Her school books were still stacked on her desk by the window, her bed was made with all nine pillows overflowing the plush duvet. The book shelves that covered half the room remained color coded and as pristine as she’d left them. Her fingers traced the letters down the spines of some of the titles. Some of them were first editions of classics worth tons of money, and she felt guilt rising up in her chest for leaving them unattended for so long. 

Pausing near the window, she touched the white gossamer curtains and frowned. The purple, silver, and white color scheme somehow didn’t fit her anymore. As soon as she was back downstairs, she made a mental note to request a change of color scheme to better suit her tastes now. 

From the curtains, her gaze shifted to the desk where a photo of her and Sam was perched front and center. Immediately, her chest was squeezing and contracting, her throat burning with tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. Her lips were pressed to his cheek and he was smiling in a wide, goofy grin. Their hair was sprinkled with snow, their noses and cheeks nipped with cold. Aelin glanced over her shoulder at Aedion, who took a few steps toward her.

Instead of speaking, Aelin shook her head to halt him as she moved to her closet. Dress after dress lined the left side, so many of them unworn. All of her casual clothes had been packed up by Lysandra and were at her apartment now, so the right side of the closet remained mostly bare. She stepped back into the main room, not bothering to glance at the bathroom before exiting back into the hall and turning toward her parents’ rooms. Aedion walked beside her down to the west wing, his hand a reminder that he was there as he rested it on her lower back. 

When she pushed open the doors, her hands began to shake because everything was perfect. 

Perfect, like they would be coming home any minute. Her mother would be home to take a hot bath and slip into more casual clothes, her dad would disappear into his study until dinner. After dinner, they’d watch a movie while she studied for exams, or go downtown to the antique shops they frequented every week. 

When she stepped into the closet, she was nearly brought to her knees. Everything was so perefectly preserved that she swore she could smell their perfume, their cologne. Harder her hands shook as she picked up the bottle of perfume on a shelf and sniffed, tears falling down her cheeks in white hot streaks that she couldn’t stop. When the sobs began, she couldn’t stop them. The bottle slipped from her hands and shattered all over the marble floor. Small pieces of glass grazed the skin of her ankles in the explosion, drawing blood and stinging as the perfume settled into her skin. The scent was overwhelming as she dropped to her knees, sobbing in the mess until Aedion scooped her into his arms and carried her from the closet. 

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m so sorry, Mama. I’m so sorry.” The confessions poured out of her, that she was sorry for not finishing school, for disappointing them. That she was sorry for wasting her life. She even turned her face up to Aedion’s as he held her and apologized to him, too, for all the trouble she’d given him over the years. With her entire body shaking, she pressed her face into his shoulder and sobbed. 

There, curled up in Aedion’s lap in her parents’ old bedroom, she wept and wept until there were no more tears to cry. 

~*~

“Ace, you know I hate this creepy ass building.” Aedion had a look of distaste curling his lip as she walked them into the mausoleum. Eyes rolling, she pulled open the gate and gestured for them to get inside.

“I need to show you something.”

“What could she possibly need to show me in a crypt?” He grumbled to Lysandra, who elbowed him roughly in the ribs. Once inside, Aelin unlocked the secret door. The look on Aedion’s face was priceless as it crumpled with complete and utter confusion at the whirring and churning sounds coming from the walls. When the wall jutted out, his jaw dropped open, but his complaints about the crypt didn’t stop. Not even when Aelin had revealed the hidden space that Rowan, Fenrys, and Aelin affectionately referred to as the Bunker. 

Aedion had as many questions as Aelin, and she didn her best to explain. It was easy to see that this was as much a surprise to him as it had been to her; Aedion’d had no idea what her father had been up to down there. It seemed he’d only ever been trained in the family businesses, not whatever this was. She watched him carefully as he took in all the writing on the walls, as he traced a finger along what could only be described as the conspiracy wall. 

“When did you find all this?”

“A few weeks ago. That day I found that note in your desk. Fen has been helping. Dr. Whitethorn - Rowan - he thinks that they were murdered. And I think he’s right.” Aelin was twisting the hem of her shirt in her hands anxiously. Aedion let out a whoosh of air like it had been knocked clean from his lungs, and as his eyes fell shut he quietly said, “Tell me everything you know.”

~*~

Friday rolled around quicker than she had expected. She was down in the bunker, packing up every bit of information that had been left behind. They had spent the last two days organizing all the information into a foolproof system that would make it easy to find anything they sought out. After taking multiple photos of the conspiracy, they began to dismantle that, too, so they could later rebuild it at a different location. 

Aelin’s hair was braided down her back, stray strands around her face sticking to the slight swear she’d managed to work up while heaving boxes around. She had just finished packing another when she heard her name being shouted from outside. Lysandra immediately opened her mouth to make a snarky comment, but Aelin cut her off. “He’s my doctor. And a friend. And he’s helping.”

“Helping you orgasm?” Aedion snorted at his girlfriend while Aelin threw an old passport at her like a frisbee. Her friend hissed in response. 

“No, that’s what Fenrys is for,” she countered, sticking her tongue out as Rowan descended the stairs looking criminally good in a leather jacket. 

“Fenrys is for what?” 

“Nothing,” Aelin said, the same time Lysandra said “Aelin’s orgasms.” The blonde shot an incredulous look at her friend, putting the lid on the last box and moving it to sit by the stairs. “I’m going to kill you.” Rowan’s face looked indifferent, but there was something about the way his mouth tensed at the corners. 

“Why are you packing everything up?” Rowan took the box from Aelin and carried it up the stairs behind her. Once outside, her eyes shifted from the snow-capped mountains in the distance to Rowan’s face. She chewed on her bottom lip as he deposited the box into the back of a moving van. “You don’t want my help anymore?”

“No. I mean, yes, I do want your help. I was going to talk to you about it in the study.” Rowan’s fingers grazed the outside of her elbow and she turned to face him. “I think I need to go to Rifthold. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how often my family went to Rifthold. Sam went on weekend trips all the time and I always thought it was just to do with seeing his mother’s grave but now I’m not so sure.” Their breath mingled between them, hanging in the air and drifting away in little clouds. With his cheeks and nose flush from the cold, he looked younger somehow. 

“If you’re going to Rifthold, I -”

“I know you can’t help me from here. Not easily, but I thought -”

“Would you let me speak without interrupting?” He quipped, a brow arched. Aelin pressed her lips into a thin line, frustrated that he wouldn’t let her finish. She needed - “If you’re going to Rifthold… I’ll have to sort out some things first but I’m going with you. I respected your father too much to let you do that alone. It could be dangerous, and I wouldn’t ever forgive myself if something happened to you.” He said it so bluntly, like it was the obvious choice, that without thinking she threw her arms around his neck. Rowan seemed surprised at first, but after a moment his hands braced against her back. When they finally separated, she looped her elbow through his and nodded toward the house. 

“Let’s go sift through the study.”

~*~

Fenrys was lounging on her bed in the manor while she dug through the formal gowns in her closet. It had been a week since Rowan agreed to go to Rifthold. Ever since, getting there and sorting out what her parents had been so hell bent on uncovering was her top priority. It seemed, based on all the research in the bunker, that her parents thought it had something to do with magic. Doing so would require going to some parties to mingle with the Royal family, so she was neck deep in her most expensive gowns at the moment.

She wouldn’t be going to Rifthold as Aelin Galathynius, it had been decided. It was too risky if her family had genuinely been murdered. If she was found in Rifthold she could meet a similar fate and she wasn’t too keen on that happening before she figured out what was going on. She hadn’t seen any of the royals since she was thirteen, and she liked to think she looked quite a bit different as a mature, young woman. She also planned to dye her hair when she got there, making her even more unrecognizable. 

“This one?” She stepped back out into her rooms, holding a black velvet dress to her body. After a moment, she turned it to show him the back and Fenrys gave her a low whistle. 

“Whitethorn would lose his mind if he saw you in that,” he said, shaking his head. Aelin paused and looked over her shoulder at him. 

“What?” 

“What?” He repeated, brows raised.

“Why would -”

“I mean, I certainly would. Why wouldn’t he?” The grin on his lips was sheepish and his eyes dropped to look at the cream sheets he lay on. Soon, all the gowns would be packed up and hung in the back of the moving van, all ready to go for Rifthold. With narrowed eyes, Aelin walked over to Fen and plopped onto the mattress beside him, wiggling to tug the nightgown she’d been wearing when he showed up down her thighs. 

“Are you nervous?” Fenrys’ weight shifted and she turned her head to look at him properly. He was rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

“I’m tired is what I am,” she sighed. It was the truth. Mentally, emotionally, physically, the girl was completely wiped. Sleep didn’t come as easy as it used to. Lately, her nightmares of the accident had started back up again. Not to mention the nightmares she had of her parents being murdered right before her eyes. Dreams of Sam pulling her onto a dance floor, wedding dress swirling around her feet only for blood to start oozing from his chest. Yes, she was very tired. Perhaps the most tired she’d ever been in her life. 

So when he made the offer to wear her out so she could sleep like a rock that night, she let him roll on top of her and claim her mouth with his own. 

~*~

Life was changing at a rapid pace. She had been stagnant for two years, letting herself waste away. Now, she had a purpose, a reason to wake up and keep living the life that she had been given a second chance for. 

Her heart was fluttering in her chest viciously as Rowan and Aedion closed up the door of the trailer. Aedion and Lysandra were supposed to be moving her down to Rifthold, but some things had come up at the company that Aedion flat out couldn’t get out of. It ended up okay because Rowan didn’t work this weekend and offered to drive her down himself after recruiting Fenrys and another cadre member, Lorcan, into helping. Aelin was still unclear just on what role Rowan and Lorcan seemed to play in her father's arsenal. Though she could assume they were the brute force of the bunch just by looking at them. 

“I’ll be down next week, so if you need anything from home let me know.” Aedion said, reaching out to brush her hair behind her ear. He looked like a nervous wreck and part of Aelin understood the feeling. After his mom died he had moved in with them, and they’d not been separated since. Even when he was mad at her, they saw each other usually twice a week. They had always lived in Orynth together, never too far apart, and now she was moving five hours away. Aedion was a protector, and she knew it drove him mad that he wouldn’t be around the corner at any given moment if she needed him. But she also needed him here, taking care of the company because for all their secrets, they loved their work. Aelin needed her cousin running the business, keeping everything normal and even though he hated being away from her he would do it. So when he pulled her into a bone crushing hug, she let him and squeezed just as hard back. 

“I love you so much,” she whispered into his shoulder, and with a kiss to her head he returned the sentiments. Aelin moved to Lysandra then and hugged her just as tight as she tried not to cry. The last few years had been rocky because of her issues, but Lysandra was still her best friend.

“Phone call away. That’s all I am,” Lys said. “And we’ll come down as often as we can, hell I’ll come down even when he can’t.” She pressed a kiss to Aelin’s cheek and she stepped back and appraised the last of her family. 

Rowan’s hand fell to her lower back and she knew it was time, so she headed over to the passenger side of the van and climbed in. Lorcan and Fenrys were packed into Aelin’s car ahead of them, already looking ready to kill each other. It brought some sort of joy, enough to make her laugh despite the steady stream of tears falling down her cheeks. 

Aedion and Lysandra waved until the gates swung closed behind the van and she couldn’t see them anymore. 

@starseternalnighttriumphant 

@westofmoon

@over300books

@booksbringmetolife--

@notaelingalathynius

@bookishdrawings

@dreamcatchersimss

@cmoff1

@wifeofchrishemsworth

@pen-paper-and-ink

@highladyofelfhame-remastered

@therealgoldenbookworm

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@anabelkay @city-of-fae

@empress-ofbloodshed

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#cy7 #carry you #carry you 7 #rowaelin #tog #throne of glass #tog fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #cy

[sailorchiron]

Merry Christmas @tasyfa !

I loved the prompts of sunlight, ribbons, and poetry!  I confess I forgot to check for your response to my anon ask...  I decided to do a moodboard of a bookshop au, and had so much fun with it that I actually wrote a fic to go with it!  I hope you have a happy holiday season filled with joy and Malex!  

Sunlight, Ribbons, and Poetry | Read on Ao3

When Michael Guerin parked his beat up truck in front of Chapter and Verse, he wasn’t really sure what he was doing, or what to expect. All he knew was that Isobel loved poetry, and he loved his sister, and he was determined to get her a better Christmas present than Max for once in his life.

Chapter and Verse was a popular book store downtown, next door to Uncommon Grounds, which was universally known to be the best coffee in town. According to the barista he’d unsuccessfully flirted with two weeks ago, it was because the owner had connections for an expensive Italian roast that was usually too pricey for small town tastes. Also according to the barista that turned out to have a boyfriend, Chapter and Verse was well known for carrying a wide selection of poetry as well as fiction and nonfiction, and for having antique and special editions as well as new books. Seemed like a no brainer to pop into the quaint store and grab something pretty for Iz, but there was a problem.

Michael knew absolutely nothing about poetry.

He had some vague, foggy memories about studying poetry in high school English, but math and science were his things, not poetry and literature. He had no idea what to get. None.

The bells on the door chimed cheerfully when he went in, and he had to admit that the store was absolutely charming, with sun streaming in the front window and tall, dark wood shelves crammed with colorful volumes. The scuffed wood floor was broken up by old oriental rugs, and the counter sporting the cash register was an antique relic of days gone by. Michael noticed a hand painted sign hanging from the ceiling pointing the way to Uncommon Grounds, and sure enough, there was a door connecting the two businesses that he’d never noticed before. He looked for other helpful ceiling signs, and followed the one to the back right corner labeled ‘Poetry.’

He walked up and down the aisles for a few bewildered minutes, completely out of his element, and not having a single clue what to get. Some of the clearly antique books were beautiful, but what if they were poems about like death or something? Isobel was a romantic and wouldn’t want depressing, morbid poetry. He was starting to get nervous about finding anything, and considering a Target gift card for Christmas, when he decided to find an employee to help him.

Aaaaand, didn’t see a single soul. In fact, it was strangely quiet in the store. Am I the only person in this entire building?

Michael was on the verge of just leaving when he spotted someone in a little alcove with a colorful rug and walked over. French doors were propped open into what was a little reading nook, and sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book was the most beautiful man that Michael had ever seen. He just stared for a minute. Messy dark hair, a little attractive scruff, neck that was begging for his lips, elegant hands, a face you’d definitely write home to mama about. The gorgeous man had kicked off his shoes and a crumpled apron was on the floor next to him. He was engrossed in what he was reading and hadn’t noticed him standing there trying to keep his tongue in his head. “Um, excuse me?”

Michael had been unprepared for that pretty face and his jaw might have dropped open.

“Yes?”

Fuck, his voice is amazing. “Um, do you work here?”

The beautiful man raised an eyebrow and glanced at the apron...then the coffee.

“Oh, you’re on your break, sorry, I’m just completely lost.”

“It’s okay.” He stood up. “What are you looking for?”

“Romantic poetry?” He watched subtle signs of disappointment in the gorgeous clerk. “For my sister! She’s just a really romantic person and I think she’d like love poems.” He watched the man’s face brighten. “Maybe an antique or really pretty book?”

“Sure. I’m Alex, by the way.”

“Michael.” They kind of looked at each other for a minute. He was struck by just how pretty Alex’s dark eyes were.

Alex, for his part, was internally screaming. Who needed a lunch break when someone that sexy wanted help looking for a book? He’d been momentarily crushed by the request for love poems, but the hurried explanation that it was for a romantic sister led him to believe that Michael might be interested. He shook his head to break the tension. “What kind of things does she like? Just in general, not specific to poetry.”

“Um, flowers? Korean dramas, aesthetic photography, huge parties, girly clothes, and make up?”

“How old is she?” Alex laughed, amused by Michael’s exasperated tone.

“28.”

“I was totally picturing 16, okay, revising my poetry ideas.” He led Michael down a narrow aisle. “Does she have a boyfriend or girlfriend?”

“Not right now.”

“Hmm…” Alex pulled the step stool over to the shelf he wanted, cognizant of the fact that he’d been so taken by amber eyes and springy curls that he’d forgotten to put his shoes back on. “Does she like to make grand gestures?”

“Oh god, yes, that’s Isobel to a T.”

“Wordsworth.” He pulled out two books. “Antique or new edition? I have both for this collection.” He held out the old book, black with elegant silver scroll work next to a smaller paperback with a picture of the sky.

“Definitely the antique. What kind of poems are they?”

“Wordsworth basically started the Romantic movement in England. Here, let me read you a poem.

“The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers — Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.

“Not romantic like lovers, but romantic, like grand and expressive.”

Michael just stared, entranced by that beautiful voice reading poetry so passionately. “I love it.”

“There are other good ones, too. Here, hold this one.” Alex handed the book to Michael and stepped down before walking down the aisle. “This is another Romantic poet, Keats.

“Bright star! Would I were steadfast as thou art-- Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night, And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like Nature’s patient sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores, Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask Of snow up on the mountains and the moors-- No--yet still steadfast, still unchangeable, Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast, To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever - or else swoon to death.”

“Uh, that’s dramatic.”

“Would your sister like it? Or is it too dramatic?”

“I think she’d like it, actually. She’s kinda dramatic herself.”

Alex laughed and handed the antique book, bound in red leather with faded gold lettering, into Michael’s careful hands. “Does she like Shakespeare? I just got a really nice edition of his sonnets and those are mostly romantic.”

“I have no idea, but I’m game.” Michael decided he’d basically follow Alex anywhere in the store for the chance to just bask in his presence.

The book was a new edition, not antique, but it was bound in deep rose leather with a fanciful design of roses in gold, pink, and green on the cover. The pages were gilded, and it had a ribbon bookmark. “Sonnet 116 is my favorite.”

“You have a favorite?” Michael blinked. He hadn’t considered that ordinary people had favorite sonnets.

“Well, yah, I’m in here all day selling books of poetry, some of it is bound to stick.”

Michael laughed softly. “What’s your favorite poem of all time?” Not that he’d know it, but he mostly wanted to keep talking to Alex until he could guide the conversation to exchanging phone numbers.

“That’s impossible to answer, because poetry is so dramatically different from era to era. That said, I like early American poetry more, like Walt Whitman and Emily Dickenson, than Romantic poetry.”

“I have to confess I’ve never heard of them. Or if I did, I totally forgot.”

Alex raised an eyebrow at him. “Here, I’ll read you a Whitman poem.” He walked back into the alcove where Michael had found him and picked up the battered paperback he’d left on the floor.

“PASSING stranger! You do not know how longingly I look upon you, You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me, as of a dream,) I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you, All is recall’d as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured, You grew up with me, were a boy with me, or a girl with me, I ate with you, slept with you--your body has become not yours only, nor left my body mine only, You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass--you take of my beard, breast, hands, in return, I am not to speak to you--I am to think of you when I sit alone, or wake at night alone, I am to wait--I do not doubt that I am to meet you again, I am to see to it that I do not lose you.”

“I really love that,” Michael admitted, touched by the words. “That’s what so much of life is, just passing by a stranger and wondering if he’s your soulmate.” He hoped that ‘he’ would ensure that Alex knew he was very interested in him. “It’s beautiful.”

Alex smiled, feeling a connection to Michael. “One of my favorites.” Michael really has the most beautiful eyes.

The door bells chiming broke the spell that was keeping their eyes locked. Alex realized that his break was probably long over, his apron was on the floor in the reading room, and he was in his socks. The last thing he wanted was to walk away from Michael. “Which book do you want to get?”

Michael blinked. “Um, I think I’ll get all three. It’s Christmas, she can have three pretty books.”

“Alright.” Alex started walking to the cash register. Now that there were other customers, he couldn’t just hang out with Michael, no matter how cute he was. “I keep forgetting it’s almost Christmas.”

“How can you forget?! There’s Christmas shit everywhere!”

Alex laughed. “I think it’s because my family doesn’t really do much. We don’t even have a tree.”

“Oh, that’s no fun.” Michael was hit with pure, genius inspiration. “We’re decorating our tree tonight, you should come over.”

“What, really? Wouldn’t that be awkward for your family?”

“No, man, the more the merrier. My family loves guests. Especially my sister.”

“I don’t know.” Alex was sorely tempted, he really wanted more time with Michael. “Hey, do you want me to gift wrap these? We have some really pretty wrapping paper and ribbons.”

“Oh, that would be fantastic.” He watched Alex slide behind the counter and start ringing up the books. None of the books had barcodes, they had handwritten labels that Alex was carefully removing. The wrapping paper was really pretty, it was deep blue and shiny with dark pinecones frosted with white glitter. Michael was impressed with Alex’s wrapping skills, he couldn’t do that well if he was given explicit instructions. The ribbons were red satin, and he stacked the three books and tied the long ribbon around all of them. “That looks beautiful.”

“Thanks,” Alex answered, compliment warming him.

Michael had to look away to keep from staring into Alex’s dark eyes, and noticed a rack of postcards with words on them. “What are these?”

“Oh, little poetry quotes. They’re hand lettered.”

“Are you an artist?” Michael smiled.

“Oh, no,” Alex denied, waving. “I’m not an artist, I didn’t do those. I’m a musician.”

“Really? I dabble in guitar.”

“I play, too.” Michael was getting more and more attractive.

Michael reached the decision that this was fate. “Hey, you’ve got glitter on your face, here.” He held out his hand and Alex leaned in for him to brush the sparkles off his cheek. His fingers lingered, and before he knew it, they were moving together, eyes slowly closing as their lips met in a sweet, sweet kiss.

Time slowed down and both Michael and Alex forgot it existed.

Until someone cleared their throat and they pulled apart, surprised that they’d gotten so lost in each other. Alex was immediately flustered, and Michael was grinning so wide that his face almost hurt.

Alex put the books on the counter. “I’m so sorry, I want to keep talking but I have to work,” he apologized. “Can I get your number?” He patted his body. “Fuck, my phone is in my apron.” Which was on the floor in the reading room. He grabbed one of the postcards and scrawled his number on the back. “Text me, I’d love to come over and decorate your tree.”

“I’ll see you tonight then.” He just smiled into Alex’s eyes until they both jumped when more throat clearing interrupted them. He grinned and winked at him, then headed out the front door with his festive package and a phone number.

In the truck, Michael looked at the postcard and immediately added Alex’s number to his phone. He sent a quick message of his name and a heart emoji, then flipped the card back over. It was a Walt Whitman quote.

“We were together. I forget the rest.”

#roswellsanta #roswell nm #malexsanta #alex manes #michael guerin

[romansleftshoulderpad]

Please actually talk about the american doll thing, you made me curious

Okay so I’m going to focus on these three issues: Storytelling, The quality fo the physical toys, and how Mattel is diverging from this company’s roots.

I’ve been collecting American Girl dolls since 2008 when I got Rebecca. Even if I’m not as heavily involved as I was a few years ago, I still have a lot of feelings about them.

Quality:

The dolls have glass eyes, plastic limbs, and cloth torsos. I mostly have to talk about the cloth bodies as everything else has gone (as far as I’m aware) unchanged. While I don’t have access to my dolls at the moment I cannot provide pictures, but I’d like to compare Rebecca and Z. Despite being a doll I got 11 years ago, Rebecca is still really sturdy thanks to having proper filling inside the cloth. Her cloth body also matches her skin tone and has strings tied together at the base of her neck.

Z, a doll I got two (2???) years ago, is stuffed with a cheaper (and flimsier) material as well as having a thinner fabric that’s ??? Technically her skin color ????? But it looks so yellow in comparison to her arms?? And they replaced the strings with a Zip Tie??????? Why did you get rid of the strings, Mattel??? They were cute! It was a neat little quirk that other 18 inch dolls dont have! Z also has permapanties which just... don’t even get me started. I love Z but I hate permapanties.

Storytelling:

For those who don’t know, American Girk actually started out as The Pleasant Company with their three characters Kirsten, Molly, and Samantha. Throughout the company’s history they have had characters who face serious issues and overcome their struggles in different periods in America’s history. They’re essentially a learning tool (and the only reason I really read historical fiction).

For example: Kit Kittredge deals with the poverty her family faces during the Great Depression after her father loses his job. Her family takes in borders and she has to take on a lot more responsibility. But she’s also a kid. She plays with her friends and uses her creativity and the world around her to write a newspaper with the typewriter in her attic. It’s a heart warming story that shows how people lived back then.

And the other characters deal with hard issues. Addy has to escape slavery, Molly deals with her father going off to war as a doctor and watching her neighbors mourn the loss of brothers and sons fighting in World War 2.

Now take a more recent character, Maryellen, living in the middle of the space race. She deals with... her sister’s wedding. That’s it. She had polio when she was like 6 but since she’s 9 in the story that’s not relevant. Yeah. Thanks Mattel.

(Don’t get me wrong, Maryellen is everything I wants in a doll as a kid! Her story is just... not impactful? Every other girl’s story happens because of the time period. So... yeah. She falls pretty short.)

Aaaand last but not least

Straying from the roots:

This is very heavily linked with my last point, but I wanted to elaborate. Every year, American Girl has a Girl of The Year, a character who lives in modern day as opposed to decades or hundreds of years in the past.

Their stories usually aren’t as intense, but they make sense for someone only being sold for one year. McKenna, the girl for 2012, deals with an injury that prevents her from doing gymnastics (her greatest passion) and she also deals with learning that she has dyslexia. Chrissa, the girl for 2009, has a story about bullying.

Being a limited edition character in a modern setting makes them a big deal. They’re a deviation from the norm.

And then there’s 2017.

Two thousand fucking seventeen.

*sigh*

We had four characters in 2017, which is 3 different storylines all in the SAME. FUCKING. YEAR.

On one hand, 2017 gave us Logan, American Girl’s first boy doll. But there was also a lot of controversy over Tenny, whom Logan is the bandmate of.

It was the first time since the release of Beforever that we‘ve had a Best Friend doll, which is nice don’t get me wrong. But many complained that their story isn’t relatable to most kids these days (which is the whole point of these dolls). Mattel also HEAVILY advertised Tenny (a white character) to the point where she overshadowed the ACTUAL G.O.T.Y, Gabriela McBride who is black.

(It also overshadowed Z Yang who is Korean.)

So yeah. 2017 had four dolls and Mattel tried to bill some bullshit about dolls of color not selling well with an advertising scheme. But hey. At least they got rid of permapanties.

#Logan’s ask #i think i just spent an hour on this

[downwithabusiveshipping]

On October 5, 2017, some people say the world changed — or at least it was supposed to. That day, a year ago, the New York Times published the first sexual misconduct allegations against Harvey Weinstein, claims that quickly grew from a few alleged survivors to a whole army of them. In the months that followed those allegations, many other powerful people were forced to reckon with past sexual abuse, harassment, and assault they had perpetrated. What became known as the #MeToo movement was called a tipping point, and in many ways it was.

Mostly, #MeToo has succeeded in making it acceptable to talk about the sexual misconduct that’s been going on for decades and decades. But while survivors are facing their trauma through calling hotlines, opening up to loved ones, and posting on social media, that public reckoning largely hasn’t translated into actual justice.

In the past year, many survivors of sexual abuse have come forward with their allegations in a world that’s seemingly more open to talking about them. This is evident on social media, where #MeToo spread like wildfire after the hashtag, based on a movement created by Tarana Burke more than a decade ago, was revitalized. But it is also evident in the call volume increase the National Sexual Assault Hotline saw in the months following the initial Weinstein allegations. According to the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network, the hotline saw a 21% increase in calls at that time. Beyond talking about it, some major institutions — like the Senate — have changed their sexual harassment policies to better protect people in the work place. And the movement has spread globally, too, with the #MeToo hashtag being used across the world. And, of course, there have been some notable moves by the justice system after #MeToo picked up in the last year. Bill Cosby was sentenced to prison, and Weinstein was indicted on multiple sexual misconduct charges.

But as time has passed, some of those who were knocked down by #MeToo allegations are slowly and quietly creeping back into positions of power and celebrity. We saw Louis C.K. returning to the stage nearly a year after being accused of, and apologizing for, repeatedly masturbating in front of female colleagues. Jian Ghomeshi, who was accused of sexual assault by more than 20 women, will have an article in the October 11 edition of the New York Review of Books that purports to reflect on this exact situation — what happens to men after they are accused of sexual assault. Ghomeshi was acquitted of sexual assault charges and settled an additional sexual assault charge "with a peace bond and public apology" as noted by an editor's letter preceding his piece. And, as the Senate considers a Supreme Court nominee who has been accused of sexual misconduct by three women, many in the national spotlight have argued not over whether the nominee is guilty of assault, but whether it would actually matter if he was. The President of the United States cast doubt on nominee Brett Kavanaugh’s accusers, wondering why Dr. Christine Blasey Ford, the first to come forward, took decades to do so. That gave rise to #WhyIDidntReport — yet another social media movement in which survivors were forced to explain the systems of oppression, shame, and fear that kept them from reporting their assaults.

With all that, many have wondered what #MeToo has really changed, if anything. Certainly, things are different now, some have said. It would be hard for things to stay the same after a nationwide, even global, conversation about sexual misconduct. But when it comes to justice for survivors, experts say the systems in place are largely the same.

“Not yet that we’ve seen, at least tangibly. But, we don’t have any data,” Sara McGovern, RAINN spokesperson said, when asked whether her organization had noted any shift in how law enforcement fields sexual assault reports, and whether that translates into convictions. “Anecdotally, we’re seeing more people reach out for help and more people tell their stories. So, many people who might have kept that inward — even if they aren’t reporting to law enforcement — people are more willing to talk about sexual violence.”

Joanne Smith, founder and executive director of Girls for Gender Equality, told Teen Vogue that #MeToo has harnessed the "power of survivors naming and speaking aloud their experiences," and begun to change how survivors are believed. Still, she said there needs to be "institutional change" that comes along with these social shifts.

"Standing alone, these moments of individual accountability are insufficient to create the lasting change we need and deserve," Smith said. "Our challenge now is to meet the courage these survivors have shown in speaking out, again and again, with institutional courage."

Part of this institutional courage, Smith said, is the option of justice.

"Survivors first and foremost need to be believed," she said. "Survivors need real solutions to the violence they experience — strategies to prevent violence from happening in the first place, strategies to respond to incidents of violence when they occur, and strategies to help individuals seek justice and accountability for the harm that has been caused. "

Jess Davidson, the interim executive director of End Rape On Campus, an anti-sexual violence group, told Teen Vogue that the iteration of #MeToo that we’ve seen in the last year has actually highlighted how unfriendly the justice system is for survivors.

“I think what the last year has done in a really remarkable way is shed light on the ways these systems are designed to fail survivors,” she said. “I don’t think we’ve gotten to the level yet of reforming all these systems.” While Davidson said #MeToo has made survivors feel that they’re more likely to be believed if they do report, she said that doesn’t necessarily translate into actual justice when it comes to law enforcement. “Undoing these systems [that] are designed around horrible old laws designed to protect white men … we have not reached that level of action. Our society has just come around to the idea that there is something wrong.”

In New York City, reports of rape increased significantly — in some parts of the city reports increased more than 50% year to date over 2017 — which may indicate some progress, though it's unclear whether the increase is because of more reports or more rapes. But the same didn’t hold true in other major cities. In Washington D.C., reports of sex abuse decreased by 4% in the same period of 2017. In Philadelphia, rape reports decreased by 7%, while they decreased by 12% in Los Angeles. Rape arrests, however, increased by 12% in Los Angeles at the same time. In Chicago, reports of criminal sexual assault did increase by 4%. In Atlanta, reports remained mostly unchanged.

But these patterns are also hard to track. An increase or decrease in rape reports or arrests may not be attributed to a movement, but rather to an increase or decrease in rapes. And, towns and cities record their data independently, and have varying definitions of rape, making it hard to compare city to city. Statistics on conviction rates may be outdated — country-wide in 2015, only 310 out of every 1,000 rapes would be reported to police, and of those 310 that were reported, only 57 would lead to arrest and six would result in the incarceration of the rapist. And while #MeToo caught on in the United Kingdom, too, rape prosecutions there have reportedly plummeted, with authorities charging 23% fewer alleged rapists in 2017-2018 than in 2016-2017. Still, we know that relatively few rape reports turn out to be false.

There are many reasons why survivors may choose not to report their assaults to law enforcement, and McGovern stressed that going to law enforcement doesn’t make an assault more legitimate than someone who chooses not to report. “We always tell people there’s no right way to react after being sexually assaulted,” McGovern said. “The reality is that some people are not going to be comfortable going to law enforcement or reporting. That’s completely their choice.”

The barriers survivors face from law enforcement may be the issue at hand, Davidson said. Many survivors may choose not to report their assaults to law enforcement because of these low conviction rates, or because of the victim blaming that often happens when survivors do come forward. Others may not want to withstand the shaming that may come with a trial, and in places like college campuses, Davidson said some survivors choose not to come forward for fear their friends or social circle won’t believe them. These barriers of entry to the justice system are particularly strong for queer people, people of color, transgender people, undocumented people, and other marginalized people, Davidson said, who may not trust police because of historical violence against their communities.

That's why Smith said we can't just work within our current criminal justice system.

"There are significant gaps in the possibility of our progress without an alternative approach to justice. Our options for justice must be more comprehensive than what our punitive criminal justice model currently offers us," she said. "We look to the incredible contemporary scholarship and activism of our partners and visionaries in the deep work of transformative and restorative approaches to justice, Mariame Kabaand Andrea Ritchie, who have committed their life’s work to rethinking justice for survivors — and accountability for those who cause harm."

If we’re gauging how #MeToo has changed circumstances for survivors, justice can’t be ignored, Davidson said. If people who are assaulted still feel stigmatized by the system that’s supposed to help them, how far can we really presume to have come?

“I think the idea of seeing #MeToo and survivor justice as different is flawed,” Davidson said. “As me too interacts with all of these levels at which rape culture functions, we are going to have to shift toward a more justice oriented conversation, and watching likes on Facebook and Twitter turn into real action. I believe that’s where the movement is going."

Smith said that action should include all people and all institutions. It's not enough to change just one thing — the world does need to change.

"We are calling on an intergenerational movement that includes young cis[gender] and trans[gender] women of color, non-binary and gender nonconforming youth that feel and believe that they are part of a movement to end sexual violence," Smith said. "We are calling for changes in federal and state law, and in culture and policy in companies, schools, and other institutions, to ensure that we are supporting survivors to deliver accountability, justice and healing, but also to change the culture and systems of permission that leave folks vulnerable, allow for an abuse of power, and have made sexual violence a systematic epidemic in the first place."

#MeToo #anti rape culture #anti abuse culture #survivor justice #justice system #teen vogue #info #information #downwithabusiveshipping #not sure what else to tag this

[mamepwrites]

My thoughts on Dark Souls II: Scholar of the First Sin

Warning, some spoilers for the game’s story are below.

Dark Souls II was the first Souls game I really decided to sit through and play. I’d touched DS1 when the craze reached my ears, and when it came on Steam as the Prepare to Die edition. I probably would have kept playing if it wasn’t running on Games for Windows Live. I didn’t really do much past the Taurus Demon. Considering that, when Dark Souls II was released, I got it instantly. I didn’t even know it was coming out. I hooked up my 360 controller and had a grand time in the tutorial. When I got to Majula, I was so lost. I found my way to Heide’s Tower of Flame and I ended up learning the basics of gameplay from the first Old Knight there. I didn’t even know about the area’s first bonfire. And then I stopped playing the game. When I learned of Bloodborne, I watched the Game Grumps playthrough of it and I wanted to feel that. I still had DS2 in my steam library, so I decided to stick with it. And I beat it! Granted, I wasn’t good at rolling, and I protected myself with a shield most of the time. But I was pretty okay by the end. I then got a PS4 and Bloodborne the summer after, and my experience in Souls helped me play through it with ease. I love hunting, even to this day. Then I got DS3 on release, and played the heck out of that. And then I decided it was time to play through DS1, and I did, defeating all of the bosses except for Priscilla, because so ~moe~. But with DS2 being my first real Souls game, I always wanted to play it again. I’ll put the cutoff here, because this’ll be a long post.

So, the Scholar of the First Sin edition was on sale on PSN a few weeks ago. I got it and I played the HECK out of it. But when Scholar of the First Sin was first announced, I believe it was advertised as being much harder than the base game, considering changes in enemy placement. But having played it, I really can’t say they did much to that end. Maybe it was just easy for me because I’m an experienced Souls player now. But let’s talk a little bit about the changes to difficulty.

The tutorial Things Betwixt has its entire third section blocked off, and for a fair reason. It seems the devs wanted players to not farm on the Ogres that were in that section. So they blocked it off with a statue that you’re able to unpetrify later in the game, and they make the Ogres non-respawning. Sheesh. However, the first real level of the game, Forest of Fallen Giants, has its first available enemy an Ogre. I thought that was unreasonable, so I skipped it entirely. Sadly, later in the level, the Heide Knight was missing, so no lightning sword. The rest of the level was fairly unchanged. I was playing it with a friend, and so we took down the Pursuer fairly easily. It would have been a little tough doing it solo, but I love playing Souls with friends in any case. Anyways, I found that the Scholar edition featured updated item descriptions, particularly in the text for the Soul of the Last Giant. It pretty much said it was formerly the Giant Lord, a boss you fight much later in the game through enjoyable time travel.

The next area, Heide’s Tower of Flame, suffered a terrible change in enemy placement in my opinion. The original DS2 featured Heide Knights as docile-until-attacked non-respawning tough enemies you would find around the world, and they would drop their weapons or armor. But in the Scholar update, practically all of them are in Heide’s Tower of Flame, and they respawn, which is fair for farming their item drops because they’re no longer guaranteed. But once you beat the area’s main boss, all of the Heide Knights are no longer docile and they actively run up and attack you. Coupled with the Old Knights that are still in the area, traversing around is tough. You don’t have to fight them, though, unless you want to fight the level’s other boss, who is optional. But it’s a fun fight, so why should I say no?

Anyways, No Man’s Wharf wasn’t as scary as I remembered, but it seems that they never really fixed the durability issue in the game. Basically, the original game ran at 30 FPS on consoles, and at 60 FPS on PC and in its Scholar edition, but a bug in the game made weapons and armor degrade twice as fast when playing the game at 60 FPS. Considering No Man’s Wharf has no bonfires except the one at the beginning, this was annoying.

Sinner’s Rise is the stage of the Lost Sinner boss. Dark Souls games tend to have a “Big Four” set of bosses relevant to the overarching plot of the game, and the Lost Sinner is often the first in DS2 that players fight. The fight is cool in the way that it’s fought in near pitch darkness, unless the player has the foresight to find a key in a side-branch earlier in the previous level. With the  key, the player can light lamps in the boss room beforehand, so they can fight it more comfortably. I did that. But the stage itself was underwhelming. In the original DS2, many enemies called ‘Enhanced Undeads’ were available to fight. They were big green masses of flesh vaguely resembling dragons, and they were beefy. But in this Scholar edition, they were all replaced by a single weakened Flexile Sentry, which was the boss of No Man’s Wharf. While it made getting to the boss a lot easier, I felt sad that they didn’t even leave even one Enhanced Undead. 

The next area, Huntsman’s Copse, is one of my dreaded areas. Mostly because of the six Torturers that lie in ambush before the bridge to Undead Purgatory. In my first DS2 playthrough, I depleted their respawns. This time I just killed them one by one and went to Undead Purgatory and bam done with the stage. The Skeleton Lords boss of Huntsman’s Copse proper was also much easier than I remembered. The next level, Harvest Valley, was also decreased and increased in difficulty. There aren’t as many Undead Steelworkers (big greed dudes with big hammers), but there is an increase in the Desert Sorceresses encountered. However, I had more trouble with the Old Iron King boss battle this time around. Fricking lava hole. 

I also hate the Gutter and Black Gulch with a fervent passion. There’s a respawning NPC invader. Some forest child or whatever. Screw him. 

I enjoyed how Dark Souls II flips Dark Souls I’s structure on its head. DS1 had you fight a bunch of bosses (while ringing two big bells) until you get to Anor Londo and retrieve the Lordvessel, at which point you go to kill four bosses to acquire their Lord Souls. The bosses are Gravelord Nito, the Bed of Chaos, Seath the Scaleless, and the Four Kings of New Londo. The former two (the Bed of Chaos being the Witch of Izalith) were holders of full Lord Souls, and the closest allies to Lord Gwyn, who also held a full Lord Soul. Seath the Scaleless and the Four Kings all have shards of a Lord Soul, though they still count towards satiating the Lordvessel. This allows access to the final area of the game, the Kiln of the First Flame, and the last boss, Gwyn, Lord of Cinders.

However acquiring ‘the souls of four’ is the player’s first objective in DS2, aside from being told that they may become the next monarch of Drangleic (a plot goal). Upon meeting the Emerald Herald, the effective Fire Keeper of Majula, she instructs the player to seek greater souls, to seek the Old Ones. Embracing these souls allow the player to reach Drangleic Castle, where they expect to encounter King Vendrick, former monarch of Drangleic. After playing the first game, the player may assume that Vendrick is the final boss as Gwyn was in the first game, but the game does a nice subversion in this. Vendrick isn’t at Drangleic Castle. Nor is he the final boss. Nor is he a mandatory boss, for that matter. Instead of Vendrick you find Nashandra, his queen, apparently ruling what remains of Drangleic in his stead. She charges you to find Vendrick. And so from Drangleic Castle we go to the Shrine of Amana (a terrible area by the way, it’s so long and open but filled with pits you can barely see because of the water agh) and from here we gain entry to the Undead Crypt. It is in the Undead Crypt that we discover Vendrick himself, having long gone hollow.

(If you’re unfamiliar with Dark Souls lore, many people are afflicted with the curse of the undead, and continually revive upon death, until they die so many times, losing sight of their goals and becoming a mindless zombo. This is a hollow.)

We don’t have to fight Vendrick at this point in time, and it’s even recommended against doing so, as he has absurdly high defenses. The only thing we need from here is the King’s Ring, a ‘symbol of the king’. This grants us access to Aldia’s Keep (note that Aldia was Vendrick’s sciencey brother), then the Dragon Aerie and Dragon Shrine. They changed up Dragon Shrine a lot. There’s two main types of enemies in Dragon Shrine, the Dragon Knights and the Drakekeepers. The Drakekeepers are practically suped up versions of the Old Knights in Heide’s Tower, so they’re easy. In the original DS2, the ultra challenging Dragon Knights only appeared in the latter half of the level, where you’re climbing a grand staircase. So color me surprised when I start Dragon Shrine and see at least two Dragon Knights standing beside the first Drakekeeper. Turns out they don’t attack you as long as you only attack the Drakekeepers, and you fight the sole Dragon Knight (colored gold instead of black) who attacks you on the stairs. This one’s like a challenge to see if you’re worthy of meeting the one awaiting you at the very end, the Ancient Dragon. So far, the ‘dragons’ you see in Dragon Aerie are all actually wyverns. Fortunately so, because in DS1′s backstory, the dragon population dwindled. However, this Ancient Dragon is a true dragon, at least in appearance. *snicker* 

It gives you the Ashen Mist Heart, which allows you to traverse memories of certain beings. 

You’re meant to use this item to access the memories of the four Giant corpses found throughout the Forest of Fallen Giants. Though, instead of perusing their memories, you’re whisked away body and all, far into the past where you find yourself fighting the very Giants that razed Drangleic in an infernal fury. As it turns out, you end up fighting and defeating the Giant Lord, who becomes the Last Giant in the present time that you fight in the beginning of the game, that itself attacks you in rage. It’s so GOOD. Anyways, the defeat of the Giant Lord awards you a non-physical item called the Giant’s Kinship, or the Resonance with Giants in the Japanese version. This item intrigues me to this very day.

Its description reads: "Each king has his rightful throne. And when he sits upon it, he sees what he chooses to see. Or perhaps, it is the throne, which shows the king only what he wants. The flames roar, but will soon begin to fade, and only a worthy heir might burnish their light. What is it, truly, a claimant of the throne could desire?"

The whole story of Vendrick (the backstory of the whole game, really) is something I find much more compelling than the story of Gwyn in the first game. From what I can make out (with help from VaatiVidya’s interpretation), Vendrick was once like us in that he vanquished old ones and acquired their Great Souls, and with their power he built his new kingdom of Drangleic. He became seduced by a woman named Nashandra, who convinced him that the Giants to the north were a threat, and so he crossed the sea and raided their lands. To please his now wife and queen, he stole something of great importance from the Giants, which is presumably the power to manipulate souls to power golems, which he used to build his Drangleic Castle. It appears it was built above the Kiln of the First Flame, becoming known as the Throne of Want. However, the curse of the undead appears in Drangleic, and Vendrick and his brother Aldia search for a cure to the curse. Aldia made his manor in the east, close to the Dragon Aerie. As dragons were immortal, Aldia may have assumed their properties could help in curing the curse of undeath. Yet, the dragons are long dead, so Aldia made his own, with a soul of a Giant. This is the Ancient Dragon you meet in the Dragon Shrine. And from Aldia and this false dragon, the Emerald Herald Shanalotte is made. They appear to have not found and made use of any answers in time, as the curse reached even Vendrick. He also realized that his wife Nashandra was in truth a shard of Manus, progenitor of the Abyss, the darkness in humankind, and that she lusted for power, lusted for the First Flame, the kiln of which was deep below the castle. However, the pathway to the Kiln (or, the Throne of Want, as it became known) could only be opened by Vendrick. And so he sealed himself away in the Undead Crypt, guarded by his knights, left to rot in the curse’s grip. Long after this, it is the player that finds him completely hollowed, mostly naked aside from his crown, a loincloth, and a massive sword he lugs around. The player is only able to reasonably fight the towering hollow by possessing Souls of Giants, which lower his defenses. I forget where I heard this from, but what this is meant to represent is that while Vendrick is unfathomably strong (having vanquished four Old Ones while still totally human, and therefore with the risk of a very permanent death), the Giant Souls radiate the hate that was borne for Vendrick in stealing...whatever it was he stole, even long after the Giants have died, and by their hate they can weaken Vendrick, or strengthen the player enough to be a match for this king.

SO. With the King’s Ring, the Ashen Mist Heart, and the Giant’s Kinship, the player returns to Drangleic Castle. They venture deep below to the Throne of Want, where they do battle with its last line of defense that Vendrick installed, the Throne Watcher and the Throne Defender. Then, they fight Nashandra, who has cast off her veil and revealed herself as a grotesque figure, of deep black flesh and a skeletal face. She wanted the player to get rid of the Throne’s (and the First Flame’s) defenses so she could sit it herself. 

It’s a nice plot for a Souls game, in my opinion. 

What I particularly like about DS2 in comparison to DS1 is that the player character has their own intial and personal motivations. In DS1 the player is freed from their cell in the Undead Asylum and are told by Oscar of Astora to ring the two Bells of Awakening. They do so, and find that they may be the Chosen Undead, one who would link the First Flame to their very soul, bolstering its blaze and stretching the gods’ Age of Fire once more, as Gwyn did. DS2′s protagonist simply wants to be rid of the curse, to find a cure for it, and are then told that others come to Drangleic seeking the same, and that to find it they must acquire the four Great Souls, they must become the next monarch. DS1′s character is driven by the plot, while DS2′s character’s motivation goes hand in hand with the plot. 

Another thing I like about Dark Souls II is the relation between the player character, and Vendrick and Aldia. They both sought answers to curing the undead curse. Vendrick peered into the very essence of the soul, and Aldia was a scholar of the First Sin, which is Gwyn linking the flame to his soul while he should have let it die out. While upon completion of the DLC, a still-sentient version of Vendrick (encountered in a memory-past through the Ashen Mist Heart) awards the player with a means to stave off the effects of the curse upon completion of the DLC trilogy, a power in crowns, the symbol of a monarch. While wearing one of the kings’ crowns, the player can die indefinitely with no risk of hollowing. However, this is no true cure, but a treatment for symptoms. But still, it’s something. (Helps a lot in the final boss battle against Nashandra, too.) Vendrick tells the player to seek adversities, to seek strength. He tells the player that by letting the flame die, humankind will become part of the Dark again, as is their true nature. This is clearly the choice between linking the First Flame to one’s soul and extending its time, and letting the flame die out to cast the world in an Age of Dark, an Age of Man. However, Vendrick questions whether this is our only choice, whether these are our only options. We learn that to link the fire and to let it die are effectively the same choice, as it is in a cycle. Let the flame die and eventually it will spark again. Link the flame and another Undead will eventually rise to make their choice. What of this third option Vendrick alludes to?

Aldia styles the player character ‘conqueror of adversities’, and if a certain ending is chosen, accompanies the player in their path to find a way to break the wheel, to shatter this cycle of endless linkings and snuffings of the First Flame.

I dunno I really like Dark Souls II.

Oh right this is supposed to be on my thoughts.

I think Scholar of the First Sin could have done more to fiddle with the game’s difficulty, but there’s a point to that that shouldn’t be crossed. Change too much and you don’t have Dark Souls II anymore. Some changes in the Scholar edition were good, some were bad, but I enjoyed my time. 

I may replay Dark Souls III again. I can’t wait for The Ringed City DLC to come out.

#mamep #mamepwrites #dark souls #dark souls 2 #dark souls ii #scholar of the first sin #video games #game blogging