#& there are a bunch of different paths and you have no idea which one to take

[lesbianlenas]

was looking at the dark souls 2 walkthrough i’m using (i normally never use walkthroughs but i make an exception for dark souls bc it is so hard & confusing and i’m only playing it bc i paid $20 for it or w/e) and i saw i was on chapter 6 and i was like oh nice ive gotten p far already :) scrolled down to see how many chapters were left and there is 31 total 😭 i am 1/5 of the way there 🥴

[mischievousmoony]

hello !! it is again almost 3am where i am but i cannot stop thinking at nerdy james before he gets buff from quidditch.

headcanon time; first or second year, before he knew his friends, he was like this wimpy little kid that got bullied a whole lot (especially by slytherin kids) and that's why he plays pranks on people.

but but! a request maybe of reader liking james before he got popular, but they never made it known because they're the quiet type. but as james became popular, reader stayed the same and they never really really crossed paths again. but there was a time where reader did something small for james back then which he remembered all those years and then they kiss kiss fall in love.

you can you whatever pronouns you want again for reader !!

- 🌱

took the liberty of making the reader a gryffindor hope thats ok

𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞

⟢ james potter x reader ⊹ 2.8k ⟢ warnings/tags: intoxication (not reader or james), unsolicited flirting from random guy, james is taller than r, gryffindor!reader, introvert!reader, no specific pronouns for reader used

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Secluded in a quiet corner is where you feel most comfortable at parties. Your fellow Gryffindors are a boisterous bunch, and that's never been your style, making it much easier to watch events like these from the sidelines.

This doesn't make you the most popular student in your house. It's not as though people don't like you, but they don't really know you. If they had to, the vocabulary they would use to describe you would be limited to quiet, nice, and… quiet.

You’ve always wondered if you would've fit in better in another house. Ravenclaw always seemed appealing. Or Hufflepuff maybe. But for reasons you don't understand, the sorting hat put you here. With the daring, self-assured, unreserved students that you couldn't be anymore like. But, you never really minded. As different as they are, at least they're nice.

For the most part.

"Hey, baby," one of your housemates drawls, emerging from the lively crowd and invading your corner. You can't say you remember his name as he cozies up next to you, unceremoniously situating himself against the wall. His shoulder crashes against it roughly as he says, "You look lonely over here."

His warm, beer-scented breath invades your senses and you scrunch your nose in discomfort, veering away from him as you reply, "I'm fine."

"Want some company?" he presses, surging forward to make up for the space you created and then some.

"No, thank you." It's almost annoying that your instinct is to be polite as this guy invades your personal space.

"Cos I could make for some real nice company," he adds, a sinister smirk working its way onto his face as you cringe away from him.

You're wracking your brain for a way out of this situation, when a familiar voice sounds from behind you, saving you the trouble.

"Hey, ready to head out?" James Potter says, and you have no idea what he's talking about, but at least it makes the other guy back away from you slightly.

"James," you blurt, rather dumbly, surprised at his sudden closeness.

Truthfully, you have been eyeing him from your corner; admiring the boy from afar as you have for years. Most of Gryffindor fancies him, and you're no exception. But who wouldn't have a thing for Gryffindor's valiant captain and ever confident head boy? Especially when that boy looks the way James does: standing over six feet tall with a chiseled, muscular physique (thank you, Quidditch). He seems to know it too, the way he carries himself with confidence.

His most captivating feature, though, is his bright, infectious smile. It's always been your favorite thing about him, even when it was still the shy, hesitant grin of a boy who wasn’t yet confident in himself.

"It's about time for us to get out of here, don't you think?" James smiles, baring all of his pearly whites, and he looks like something out of a dream. His eyes flick from you to the boy to your left. "Oh, hey Callaghan, didn't see you there."

"Potter," Callaghan nods in greeting. "You, uh, you know..." he trails off, gesturing aimlessly to you. You're not surprised that he doesn't know your name.

"Y/N? Course I do," James says, stepping closer to you.

But that. That's a surprise.

James towers over both of you, making Callaghan take another step back in intimidation. You're too busy being surprised to feel relieved over the space. James knows your name?

Callaghan gestures between the two of you, trying the gauge your relationship. "And you two are...?"

"Leaving," James says, offering you his hand, “Right?”

You stare at his hand, momentarily dumbfounded, before you take it, “Right.”

You feel kind of hazy as you let James lead you away from Callaghan, away from the lively party, and out into the corridor. The situation is so surreal that you wouldn't be surprised if you suddenly woke up to find it was all a dream. When was the last time you even spoke to James Potter?

"You alright?" James' voice cuts through the silence of Hogwarts' halls. Your eyes meet his concerned ones as he leans against the stone wall, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Yeah, I'm alright," you say, still a little muddled. You snap out of it with a shake of your head, remembering your manners, "Thank you, by the way."

"Psh," he waves his hand through the air, brushing it off, "You don't need to thank me. Any person with eyes could see Callaghan was being... off putting." James scrunches his nose in judgement, pausing as if to bite his tongue, like has more to say about Callaghan but better not. "Any decent person would've stepped in. No thank you necessary."

"Well I'm thankful anyway," you say quietly, the corner of your mouth tugging upward into a small smile.

James' eyes dart to your lips, your gesture conjuring a wide smile on James' own lips. You're momentarily distracted as his tongue runs across his teeth, barely hearing him as he says, "Well, I may be reluctant to accept your gratitude because I may have had some selfish reasons behind my method."

Your lips part, twitching into the shape of various words that never leave your lips. You feel very warm all of a sudden.

James does a rubbish job of hiding the amusement in his eyes, but he is kind enough to put you out of your misery with an explanation, "I need a walking buddy. Was hoping you'd like to join me?"

You're not any less dumfounded but you manage to get the words out this time. "You want me to go on a walk with you?"

"Yeah," James says, like it's not strange at all.

"Why didn't you ask one of your friends to go?"

"You are my friend," James insists, and you cock and eyebrow.

"I was surprised that you even knew my name."

"Of course I know you! We're friends," he emphasizes.

You look at him skeptically, not sure what you did to make a friend out of him. Not that you wouldn't like to be his friend, but friends usually talk to each other. The last time James spoke to you was last year to ask if you had an extra roll of parchment. And he was more so asking the entire class, you just so happened to be the one with the parchment.

"Do you not want to be my friend?" He asks in a teasing tone, having let you stare in silent skepticism for long enough.

He's not being serious, but you panic anyway. "What!? No! I mean no I don't not want to be friends!"

He chuckles as he pushes himself up from wall. "Then walk with me, would'ya?" He nods his head off in the same direction he starts walking, expecting that you'll follow.

You do, your feet moving faster than your brain can overthink your way into a no. But as you walk next to him your thoughts catch up with you.

What are you supposed to talk about? What do you know about him? Quidditch. What do you know about Quidditch? You know lots about Quidditch. Quick, say something about Quidditch before this silence gets awkward. Why do you suddenly not know anything about Quidditch?

The effects of your racing mind are written across face, your features contorted in worry and a lasting skepticism as you glance up at James every so often.

James is glancing at you too, finding every little crease and contour from your worried look endearing as silent laughter bubbles in his chest.

"Alright, what's that face?" James finally asks, his tone as gentle as possible as not to make you uncomfortable.

Your expression softens into sheepishness. James looks at you with such kindness that you find yourself voicing your concerns.

"We're friends?" you ask in a small, hesitant voice.

James is quick to defend his claim, "I've known you since we were kids!"

"We haven't spoken since we were kids," you say.

He seems to deflate at your words, faltering as he experiences a moment of speechlessness.

"Besides," you go on, a hint of smugness creeping up on you, "we've known everyone at this school since we were kids. Does that make us friends with everyone?"

James is quick to shake his head. "Not everyone was as kind as you back then."

Any trace of smugness has been quickly expunged and replaced by a fluttering in your stomach as his eyes fill with what you would call admiration if you didn't know any better.

"And you were exceptionally kind," he adds on, not helping ease the butterflies in your stomach. "Though you're right. I should've talked to you. I don't know why I didn't talk to you more."

"It's okay," you say in a small voice, prompting you to clear your throat before you continue, "We're talking now."

James smiles that radiant, charming smile that makes you swoon. Before silence can settle over you James' face lights up as an idea pops into his head.

"Have you even been on the Quidditch Pitch at night? I mean, when there's no game going on?"

You shake your head, your eyebrows creasing as you find his question rather random. Before you've fully grasped what he's implying, he's grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the castle.

A gasp escapes your lips as he tugs you along, his enthusiasm and long strides causing him to race ahead without realizing how fast he’s moving. It's only when you're outside that you find your voice again.

"James!"

He slows his pace and drops your hand. For a moment, he looks almost embarrassed, shrugging his shoulders as he lacks an excuse for his sudden burst of energy.

You shake your head with a smile. “Some things never change. Do you ever take a deep breath and just mellow out?” you ask, noticing with amusement that he’s just as hyperactive now as he was when you were kids.

James makes a big show of taking a long, deep breath as he falls into step with you at a much more leisurely pace than before.

You shake your head again, chuckling.

"Some things do change, by the way. For example, you were taller than me back then," he says, resting his elbow on the top of your head to emphasize the difference.

You jerk your head away, playfully retorting, "Everyone was taller than you."

"Shut up!" he laughs, letting his arm fall to his side. He's close enough that his arm brushes against yours as you walk. You feel the shake of his laughs against your skin and you can't help but giggle along.

It doesn't take long to walk to the quidditch pitch. The walk felt shorter than it does on game days, but maybe that's because you didn't have James to walk with.

You follow James out to the very center of the field, where he wastes no time to plop down into the grass. "Lay with me," he says, crossing his arms behind his head. "You can see all the stars from out here," he says to convince you.

"You come out here a lot?" you ask as you sink down beside him. The grass tickles your skin as you lay down.

"I've been coming out here since I was a first year," James reveals. "I used to lay in the grass, just like this, and imagine what I would look like flying above dodging bludgers and scoring winning goals."

"Yeah?"

James hums affirmatively. "I've always loved Quidditch. Wanted to play for as long as I can remember. And then I came to Hogwarts, and Merlin, I thought the Quidditch players were so cool. Wanted to be like them so bad."

"What does it feel like?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you’re the one first years are looking up to now."

"No, they're not," James scoffs in complete disbelief.

"James," you deadpan, thinking he can't be serious. "You're the Gryffindor captain and rightfully so. One of the best chasers Hogwarts has probably ever seen. I mean, way you escaped that bludger last weekend?” you muse. “Not to mention the Chudley Chop Down you pulled off. You looked just like the professionals, it was incredible!"

James is caught at a loss for words again, a rare occurrence for him, but you've managed to make it happen twice now.

You clear your throat, realizing how you've just raved on about him to his face. You excuse yourself with, "I, um, I really like Quidditch."

James blinks away the awestricken glint in his eyes, responding, "Figured as much. Don't think I've ever played a game I haven't seen you in the crowd of. But enough about me," he continues. "What about you and your achievements, eh?”

“What are you talking about?”

"Don't be coy. You have to be the brightest witch at Hogwarts."

"No, that's–"

"C'mon I've seen the marks you get. And no one gets Gryffindor more house points in class than you do. All the professors love you; Slughorn always seats you to his right at Slug Club meetings. And I thought Minnie had a soft spot for me but then I saw how she talks to you."

"Maybe if you called her Professor McGonagall once in a while," you tease, trying to distract him from showering you with anymore compliments to spare your heart from racing any longer.

"Wouldn't matter. She likes you because you're smart. Driven too. She knows you’ll do great things after school. Everyone knows you'll be one of the most successful in our class."

"I hardly think anyone notices me,” you say, nervously ripping up blades of grass from the ground.

"I have," he says, looking at you with so much fondness it takes your breath away.

Your eyes widen, sparkling with warm astonishment at all his kind words. James notices the way your parted lips curve into a small, shy smile. Slowly, it grows into a grin.

He nudges you, "Now what's that look for?"

"This is just... unexpected."

"Unexpected?"

"I mean I didn't realize you remembered by name, let alone knew anything about me."

James' expression is tinted with disbelief. He removes his arms from behind his head as he angles his body slightly toward you, gearing towards something serious. "Of course I did. When I said you were kind to me back then, you were really the only one who was. How could I forget you?"

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as James sighs deeply.

"Merlin, I really should have talked to you more," he says, shaking his head.

"It's okay–"

"No," he insists, "I should have talked to you more. I don't know why I didn't– I mean I do know why I just..."

You swallow hard, giving yourself time to find your voice. "There's a reason?" you ask.

James turns his head, shifting back against the grass as his gaze finding the stars above him. You can see the moon reflecting in his eyes as he bathes in its light. He looks ethereal like this.

"You make me nervous," he's able to admit in the comfort of not having to see your reaction, pretending it’s just him and the moon out here.

Your jaw goes slack. You'd sooner think you're being pranked or he's under some kind of spell than to believe his words.

"What?" you finally utter. Your hand freezes with a chunk of freshly ripped up grass held hostage between your fingertips.

James chuckles, "You were so nice to me. And I always thought you were so pretty I– every time you said something kind to me I would get so red in the face."

You're silent, at a loss for words as you try to wrap your mind around his admission. If the tips of his ears hadn't turned red, you'd think he's lying.

"I mean everything made me nervous back then," he continues. "Thank Merlin I grew out of that, but you..."

James finally looks at you again, his eyes darting across your face as he absorbs your reaction. Carefully, he takes hold of your wrist, placing your palm flat on his chest, over his heart.

"You still make my heart race," he says quietly, and you can feel the proof under your fingertips.

Words make their way past your lips almost instinctively, driven by a desire to reassure him. "I... I was too nervous to talk to you too."

The fondness in his eyes grows even warmer, and he begins tracing gentle lines on the back of your wrist with the pad of his thumb. "It's alright," he says. His tone is genuine and hopeful as he continues, "We're talking now," he repeats your words from earlier with newfound affection. "And I'd really like it if we could keep talking."

"Yeah," you say. A wave of courage washes over you, and you adjust your hand to intertwine your fingers with his. "Me too."

After that, you find yourself out here a lot more often, staring at the stars with James, your fingers intertwined. You're both much more comfortable around each other now, but from time to time, you still make each other's heart race.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[satowooo]

" YOU'RE THE ONE I WANT IN PAPER RINGS. . ."

I like shiny things but I'll marry you with paper rings ft. gojo satoru, geto suguru, choso kamo, nanami kento.

contents. fluff, fluff, fluff, not proofread.

౨ৎ GOJO SATORU

��Shush, don't look!”

Satoru had been focused on folding a piece of paper for the past 30 minutes now, ever since you two sat on a table and planned to make paper flowers for the students to celebrate the year end. You just asked him about what he's doing, only to be replied with a scolding and him turning his back on you to hide the piece of paper. You could hear his small grunts and complaints every single time he messed up and redid it all over again, noticing him folding it in a different way from a paper flower and it was even cut smaller. It was the first time you had seen him struggling over a matter as small as folding papers, when he wasn't even having a hard time on the paper flowers earlier though, and Satoru seems to not be fond of not getting everything his way on an easier path either.

Since when did making paper rings become so difficult anyway?

“Okay. You don't want me to help with whatever that is?”

“No. Just stay put.”

You bite your lip to stop a chuckle, noticing the way his shoulders slumped when you heard him accidentally tore the paper, so you obeyed and looked away. He turned around again, leaning on the table to get another paper, and got to work. His slender fingers carefully folding and twisting, his eyes solely focused on it, with his brows furrowed in determination and even a small pout for the thousand of times he messed up and probably on the verge of giving up, if not because he was making a paper ring because wanted to please you.

It took him another good 15 minutes to do it right, a little wrinkled on one side but the heart on the ring was perfect. He scooted over to your side, and you finally looked at him.

He took your hand, and slipped the paper ring on your ring finger, making you gasp as you finally see the blue material fit you perfectly. “I did my best, baby.”

“Satoru!”

“I know it's not much, and I mean, I can probably give you a more expensive one with diamonds and shiny crystals but I just thought this one would mean more and much more endearing and I tried to make it after watching a video that I saw using my memory and I just think–” He stopped, blinking as he realised how much he had rambled. Satoru sighed, gazing at your hand, lifting it up to press a kiss on your knuckle, right next to the ring. “Do you like it?”

“Of course, I do!”

“Then should we call a priest right now?"

౨ৎ GETO SUGURU

It was originally Mimiko and Nanako’s ideas. The two girls lay on their stomach right by the floor with their feet swaying in the air, their homeworks long forgotten on either side of them. There were tons of papers around them, in different colours and shapes when Suguru caught them slacking around in their bedroom.

“Papa! Make a paper ring for Mama!” Mimiko suggested, patting the space between them so Suguru could join in the fun.

“Are you done with your homeworks, sweethearts?” He chuckled, taking his spot, laying flat on the stomach with his feet also high in the air like some teenage girls.

“Of course!” Nanako, who was obviously lying for the way she blushed and can't look Suguru straight on the face, as she pressed something on the origami that she made which was shaped in a frog, and it jumped towards his side.

Suguru couldn't help but be amazed, but also wanting to tease his girls. “Really? Can I see?” He said as he reached for their notebooks.

Mimiko was quick to act, slapping her dad’s big hands away with her small ones so he would drop it, then thrashing a bunch of paper in front of him instead. “Mama would like paper rings!”

And that's exactly how he found himself making one. With the help of his daughters, they instructed him on what to do for a good 15 minutes. He'd get confused sometimes every time they talked at the same time, instructions unclear when they talk about different things. But he got the hang of it, and it was perfect, as expected from Suguru.

Now, he's sitting on the bed, with his back pressed on the headboard, as he got you straddling his lap as you two talked about your day, while the two girls had gone to sleep.

“The girls were very enthusiastic today.” He said, his thumb caressing small circles on your inner thigh as he gazed at you. “They taught me how to make origami, and something else…”

“Hmm? What is it?” You replied, eyes filled with curiosity as you waited for him to continue.

You watched as he pulled something out from the bedside cabinet, a red paper shaped in a small circle. You couldn't see much because his hands were covering it a bit, but when he took your hand and wore it on your finger, you realised what it was.

“I made it, but it took all our efforts.” He whispered, watching as you gaped at the paper ring. “They're not the best teachers though.”

“It's beautiful…”

Suguru didn't expect the next thing you did. As you clutched on his shirt and immediately crashed your lips together, your hands coming to the back of his neck and deepening the kiss. Your lips dancing in harmony to the rhythm of your heartbeats.

He pulled away, breathless as he cups your cheek. “I'd ask you to marry me right now, but we'll save that for some other time.” He chuckled, pulling you in for another kiss.

౨ৎ CHOSO KAMO

It was a sweet gesture. Your boyfriend prepared all the materials needed and even borrowed his brother Yuji’s ipad so you could watch tutorials on YouTube. Ever since he saw you scrolling on your Instagram reels about making paper stars, flowers, little animals, hearts, and all other cute things, he was determined to do the activity with you. And he wanted to make sure that you'll enjoy it as much as he would.

“Let's make this one!” You scrolled onto a video, showing him a tutorial on how to make a scrapbook, which he agreed to.

You two worked on it right away, both of you busy while you cut some papers and draw on it, while he folds some others into shapes that would look good on the scrapbook. Once in a while, he would try to steal kisses on your lips every time he finishes one.

After a few minutes, you got up to go upstairs and print some pictures that you'd add on the book, leaving Choso alone with folding a new set of papers. This time, he made a mini bouquet, which was unexpectedly quite easy. And then last, the paper ring.

When you got back, you placed the printed papers on the table as you two got to work again. But your eyes caught the mini bouquet resting beside the others, and your eyes glinted.

“Choso! That's so cute! How did you make that?” You scooted closer to him, taking the mini bouquet in your hands, the paper tiny in your hands. “Are you putting this on the book?”

Choso blushed, nuzzling his face on your neck. “It's actually for you.” He muttered, his breath fanning on your skin that made you shiver. “They're small and cute, I thought you'd like it.”

You smiled, cupping his cheek so he could look at you. “Really?”

“Mhm. And I have another one too.”

He showed you the pink paper ring, and your eyes widened in shock. He was about to put in on your ring finger when you turned around, snatching something from underneath the table.

“Cho! I made you one too!”

Was it fate? But nevertheless, it got Choso blushing and almost kicking his feet as butterflies filled his stomach. His palms covering his mouth to probably stop him from reacting exaggeratedly while you slipped the paper ring in his finger. It was even the same colour as the one he made, and he swears his heart was about to burst.

౨ৎ NANAMI KENTO

How many times did you and Nanami get married this year? Three. Three times in a row. The first time was in a shrine, doing the Japanese traditional way of weddings, a wedding held privately with only your families. Second was at the church, with both your families and friends this time, with you wearing a beautiful white wedding dress as your husband awaits in the altar, looking as dashing as ever. And this might be the third.

“Honey, marry me.” He muttered, his feet tapping on the floor impatiently, watching you type on your laptop for a school document.

“We're already married, Kento?” You asked, glancing back at him once before you're back to rapidly tapping on your keyboard. The noise filled the air, together with Nanami’s sighed.

“I know. But you seem married to your laptop for the past few hours, honey.”

Nanami is not one to complain about this type of thing, in fact, he's a very understanding man that he wouldn't mind if you're stuck doing paperworks all day, unless you wouldn't be sparing him a glance, giving him a kiss, or a hug during the said day, and that would make him open up his concerns a bit. How many hours had passed anyway? Four long hours of torture for him, that he had convinced himself enough that he was the clingy one in the relationship and not you.

“Are you asking for my undivided attention, Kento?” You laughed, finally tearing your gaze away from your laptop as you spun your swivel chair at him.

He pulled the chair from underneath so you're closer to him, his right knee between your thighs as he leaned down to press his lips against yours. “Indeed. And I don't think I can live another second of you not talking to me for another hour, not even a kiss since this morning.”

“I'm sorry,” you giggled, kissing him one more time to show that you were truly apologetic. “Were you lonely?”

“A bit.” He sighed, caressing your cheeks, then pulled away as he leaned back on his chair. “You do look adorable when you're focused, honey, which I'm always pleased to see. But I have to give you something.”

He slid his swivel chair backward a bit, grabbed something on a nearby table and went back to your spot right away. He took your hands, sliding a white paper ring right next to your wedding ring. “I don't think you noticed me making this while you were busy.”

“Kento, how..?” Your eyes smiled with you, a testament of your appreciation and affection towards the man you love. You knew Nanami Kento had always been perfect, but he's even more perfect now that he took his time to make this for you.

He laced your fingers together with his, his heart warming up to the sight of you appreciating his small efforts. Kento loves it when you're happy, and would do anything to keep it that way for as long as he can.

“A few videos.” He shrugged, pulling your chair closer to him again. “Now, will you marry me?”

[erika-xero]

Beware, the long post incoming. Pro tips for artists who work on commissions!

DISCLAIMER: I do not have, like, a HUGE online following and can’t be called a popular or viral artist, but I do have some experience and I’ve been working as a freelance artist for more that five years, so I could share a few tips on how to work with clients with my fellow artists. Scroll down for the short summary!

First of all, you always need to have your Terms of Service written down in a document that is accessible for your potential clients. And by terms of service I don’t mean a set of rules like “I don’t draw mecha, anthro and N/S/F/W”. There is much more into it, than you may think when you first start drawing commissions.

You’ll need to understand how copyright law/author’s rights in your country works (for example, US copyright or Russian author’s rights, be sure to check your local resources). There are a bunch of sites where you can actually read some legal documents (. I know it might be boring, but TRUST me, you WILL need this knowledge if you choose this career path.

Russia, for example, is plagued with shops selling anime merchandise. The merchandise is usually printed somewhere in the basement of the shop and the shop owners literally rip off other people’s intellectual property. If the artist ask them to remove their IP from the shop the owners usually try to fool them with lies about how the IP works. They will tell you, that you have to register copyright on every single drawing and if you don’t do it anyone can reproduce and sell your artwork. In reality, copyright law in most countries simply doesn’t work this way. Once you create an original work and fix it, take a photograph, write a song or blog entry, paint an artwork, you already are the author and the owner. Yes, there are certain procedures of copyright registration, which is only a step to enhance the protection, but you become an author the very moment you create a piece of art, and no one have a right to take your creation from you. Knowing your rights is essential.

Some of your commissioners may try to scam you too, but most of them might simply not be aware of how copyright law works. I literally had people asking me questions whether or not the character I am commissioned to draw becomes MY intellectual property. I literally had to convince the person (who was legit scared, since the commissioned piece was going to be a first image of his character ever created) otherwise. If you have an idea of the character written down or fixed in any other form such as a collage, a sketch, or a concept art -- the character is yours. Artist may have rights to the image they create, but not the character itself. Your potential commissioner must acknowledge that their characters, settings and etc. is still theirs, while your artwork is yours, if your contract doesn’t state otherwise. You can sell the property rights on your artwork to your commissioner if you want, but it is unnecessary for non-commercial commissions. And I strongly advice you to distinguish the non-commercial commissions from commercial ones and set the different pricing for them. Even if you sell ownership of your artwork to your commissioner, you can not sell the authorship. You will always remain an author of your artwork, thus you still have all the author’s rights stated in the legal documents.

Another thing that is absolutely necessary to be stated in your terms of service is information whether (and when) it is possible to get a refund from you. You absolutely have to write it down: no. refunds. for finished. artworks.

You have already invested time and effort to finish an artwork. The job is done and the money is yours. I’ve heard stories of commissioners demanding refund a few months later after the commission was finished and approved by the commissioners, because, quote “I do not want it anymore”. Commissioning an artist doesn’t work this way, artwork is not an item purchased on shein or aliexpress that can be sent back to the seller. It is not a mass production. It is a unique piece of art. Example: My friend once drew a non-commercial commission for a client who tried to use it commercially later on. She contacted him and reminded of the Terms of Service he agreed with, offering him to pay a fee for commercializing the piece instead of taking him to the court or starting a drama. He declined and suddenly demanded a full refund for that commission via Paypal services. My friend contacted the supports and showed them the entire correspondence with that client. She also stated that the invoice he paid included a link to the Terms and Service he had to agree with if he pays that invoid. The money were returned to her.

However, partial refund can be possible at the certain stage of work. For example, the sketch is done, but something goes horribly wrong. Either the client appeared to be a toxic person, or an artist does not have a required skill to finish the job. I suggest you keep the money for the sketch, but refund the rest of the sum. It might be 50/50 like I suggested to my clients before (when I still could work with Paypal), but it really depends on your choise. I suggest not doing a full refund though for many reasons: not only you make yourself vulnerable, but you also might normalize a practice harmful to other artists this way.

The main reason why full refund when the sketch/line-art are done must not be an option is that some clients may commission other artists with lower prices to finish the job. This brings us to the next important point: you absolutely need to forbid your clients from altering, coloring or overpainting your creation or commission other artists to do so. This also protects your artwork from being cropped, changed with Instagram filters or even being edited into a N/S/F/W image. Speaking of which. If you create adult content, you absolutely need to state that to request such a commission, your commissioner must at least be 18/21 years old (depending on your country). And as for the SFW commissions you also have to state that if someone underage commissions an artwork from you it is automatically supposed that they have a parental concern.

There is also a popular way to scam artist via some payment systems, called I-did-not-receive-a-package. Most of the payment systems automatically suppose that you sell goods which have to be physically delivered via postal services. This is why it is important to state (both in the Terms of Service and the payment invoice itself) that what commissioner is about to receive is a digital good.

And the last, but not the least: don’t forget about alterations and changes the commissioner might want to make on the way. Some people do not understand how difficult it may be to make a major change in the artwork when it is almost finished. Always let your commissioners know that all the major changes are only acceptable at early stages: sketch, line-art, basic coloring. Later on, it is only possible to make the minor ones. I prefer to give my commissioner’s this info in private emails along with the WIPs I send, but you can totally state it in your Terms of Service. I do not limit the changes to five or three per commission, but I really do appreciate it when I get all the necessary feedback in time.

To sum this post up, the info essential for your Terms of Service doc is:

- The information on whether or not your commissions are commercial or non-commercial. If they are non-commercial, is there a way to commercialize them? At what cost?

- The information on author’s and commissioner’s rights;

- The information on whether (and when) refunds are possible;

- The prohibition of coloring, cropping, overpainting and other alterations;

- The information on whether or not you provide the commissioner with some physical goods or with digital goods only;

- Don’t forget about your commissioner’s age! If you work with client who is a minor, a parental consern is required. And no n/s/f/w for underage people!

- You may also want to include that you can refuse to work on the commission without explanation in case you encounter a toxic client or feel like it might be some sort of scam.

- I also strongly suggest you work with prepay, either full or 50% of total sum, it usually scares off the scammers. I take my prepay after me and my client agree on a rough doodle of an overall composition.

- I also include the black list of the themes: everyting offensive imaginable (sexism, homophobia, transfobia, racism, for N/S/F/W artists it also might be some certain fetishes and etc). Keep your reputation clean!

- Ban N/F/T and blacklist the commissioners who turn your artworks into them anywayss, don’t be shy <3

These are the things that are absolutely necessary but are so rarely seen in artists’ Terms of Service that it makes me sad. Some of these tips really helped me to avoid scams and misunderstandings. I really hope it helps you all!

[felassan]

Just some info I noted down from today's video in text form, under a cut due to what some peeps may consider spoilers, and length.

This video took place well into the game, meaning the beats in it are later in the storyline.

At least part of Davrin’s personal arc involves rescuing the griffons. In an earlier part of his arc you are introduced to his nemesis, the Gloom Howler, a creature that has been hunting and stalking Wardens for quite some time. It has kidnapped a bunch of non-Assan griffons and Davrin has been trying to track it down. In the quest shown in the video, he has found a lead and wants to go and track it down and get the griffons back from the Cauldron (a secret Grey Warden redoubt that was attacked). Davrin wonders what the Wardens were hiding inside the Cauldron, as he has no idea. When the party reaches the Cauldron, they find that something large tore down the gate. The party needs to find a way inside and help Davrin investigate.

Davrin prefers a Direct approach in dialogue. Tough dialogue choices can gain approval from him

The bond between a griffon and a Warden moving as one and having unity between them is called “turlum”. Davrin and Assan don’t yet have this

Grey Wardens: Lancit, Remi, Landon, Quincy, Miriel, Fisher, Greta, Beckett, Flynn (an apprentice physician, whose mentor is called Oskar). I think Flynn’s pronouns are they/them. We will do quests with Flynn including A Cabin in the Blight. They were treating patients and became low on medical supplies. Their mentor Oskar has some and lives in a cabin outside the village. Flynn asks Rook to tell Oskar they could use his help if Rook sees him when they are out there. Flynn is local to Lavendel and saw the Blight surge through their home.

A Grey Warden merchant / quartermaster is called Holden. The little girl seen with Davrin in the release date trailer is called Mila.

If you do content in an area it helps you discover more shortcuts, giving you more flexibility in how you navigate between different remaining missions and quests

Each exploration space has its own story to tell. The quests and sidequests there are narratively relevant and also contribute to a meta story/meta narrative about that space. In Hossberg / Lavendel the aim is to get to the center of the Blighty stuff that has been going on there

Another Warden sidequest called Lives Spared seems to involve some missing Wardens who haven’t checked in in a while

Rook inherits the Lighthouse willingly or unwillingly from Solas. It’s located in the Fade and is where Solas was able to start planning his rebellion against the elven gods millennia ago

The Lighthouse shapes itself around your personality. Companions’ rooms there shape themselves around the companions as they live there and go through their arcs. A glowing light above the entrance to a companion’s room indicates that they are ready to talk to us

Hossberg is a later game area. Hossberg Wetlands are dark swamps and the area has almost completely been consumed by the Blight, making it a lot more dangerous than before. As a zone it’s quite contiguous and has lots of branching paths and different areas to explore. The Grey Wardens set up shop in an outpost/fortress (this is only one of their bases) there called Grey Hold in the small town of Lavendel, which used to be a beautiful place full of life and flowers. The Blight has had a serious effect on Lavendel, but the residents are still there and trying to make the most of it. There are plenty of opportunities to help the residents.

The Wardens have noticed that something strange is going on; the Blight is not behaving as it should or as they would expect, or like it has done historically. A codex entry pops up called “An Improved Blight”. (basically we are getting Blight dialled up to eleven) Rook is there to work with the Wardens, help them out, and help them find the answer to their question about the Blight. In their outpost the Wardens have built up a small fighting force to hold off the darkspawn. They understand the stakes of the gods being released and want to help you but they have other priorities, so increasing their power allows them to contribute more meaningfully to your fight against the elven gods. The Blight has changed. It’s become a lot more organic, a lot more alive. Once a slow-moving wall, it now has almost-sentience and almost-thought behind it. This has something to do with the released Blighted elven gods.

Something bad happened to a place called D’Meta’s Crossing, it’s no longer standing.

It sounds like Weisshaupt has fallen.

Merchant shops can be upgraded, doing so unlocks new items.

The Crossroads is a location in the Fade that contains a number of eluvians, allowing you to travel across Thedas in a matter of minutes. At the point the video takes place, the Crossroads are under assault by the elven gods. It’s now a dangerous place.

The big eluvian in the Lighthouse is called the Vir Revas. (that could translate as Way/Path of Freedom). It’s the central focus point of the Lighthouse and it takes you to Solas’ pocket area of the Crossroads, which looks different to what we’ve seen in Trespasser. “A path has emerged from the mists of the Fade that leads to a gathering point where all eluvians meet – the Crossroads”. We will spend a lot of time travelling through the Crossroads as we go from area to area. At one point, it was also a space that served as Solas’ main base of operations and training ground for his rebellion against the elven gods. As we go through it we will find fragments of the past, things that Solas did previously that will give us insight into him as a character, and also into the elven gods and their motivations. If you go exploring in the Crossroads there are opportunities to relive some of the memories Solas had during his rebellion. We will actually get to take part in this ancient rebellion.

The Crossroads as a realm reflects the waking world. It’s a mix/ amalgamation of all the real world spaces that are tied to it, in this case for example Hossberg and other mountainous regions that exist in the game. The architecture around the eluvians here very clearly reflects where they lead. The first time you go to any of the new regions in the world you traverse the Crossroads to get there. After that you can fast travel if you want. But exploring the Crossroads is recommended because some of the deepest secrets lie within

There is a mysterious spirit in the Crossroads called The Caretaker who was there before Solas was. They started to help Solas with his rebellion and also to turn the area into a safe haven for spirits, as Solas loves spirits. In the video we see them piloting a boat through the air to transport Rook somewhere. Because the gods are assaulting the Crossroads, it’s no longer the safe haven it once was. Rook works with the Caretaker through a lot of ancillary content to rebuild it into a safe home for spirits.

There is an area in the Crossroads called Beacon Island

The darkspawns’ different looks is very intentional. Their new look is in part because Ghilan’nain, described here as "the god of monsters", has always been focused on using the Blight essentially as a crafting material, a way to alter life itself. she’s been enhancing and changing the darkspawn as part of her army. She uses Blight like a medium to sculpt and warp the darkspawn to do her bidding and suit her purposes. The idea is that the Blight and the darkspawn are an organic weapon. Instead of making swords and armor, the darkspawn use the Blight to augment themselves, effectively defeat you and give the gods the world that they desire. The darkspawn aren’t just coming out of nowhere. They emerge from Blight pools, like the Blight is spawning them. Part of Ghil’s attempts to turn this into an army for the gods is to use them for overwhelming force. Hurlock Blighters have disgusting growths on their backs that they throw, making them function like grenadiers as they rip off these pieces of themselves and throw them at you - these then explode as Blight – this kind of enemy design for the darkspawn is supposed to lean into the idea that the Blight is organic and disgusting. In places there are Blight boils throughout the area, and if Rook doesn’t destroy them during combat ghouls will continue to emerge from them.

It sounds like in terms of ‘factions of enemies’ and their designs, we have the darkspawn which use overwhelming force tactics, the Venatori which focus on magical power, and the Antaam which focus on physical strength

Zipline traversal is in

Each mage’s (Neve, Bellara, Emmrich) healing ability is thematically appropriate to them

I think Davrin’s special exploration ability, or one of them, is called Blight Hunter. (one of the ones Rook can channel through the dagger when that companion isn’t there). This summons Assan from above to destroy Blight Abscesses. He seems to have another as well that Rook can also use via the dagger called Griffon Strike. In the video Rook uses this one to destroy a mechanism that was keeping a load of wood suspended in the air from a beam.

We see Rook also using the dagger to "charge beam" and destroy what looked like a thick tendril of organic Blight across the ground, and to destroy a ‘wall’ of blight abscesses that was blocking the way. At one point in the video Rook comments that the dagger is vibrating, "like a song in a wine glass"

When companions go ahead to meet you at quests they’re invested in, they won’t complete them without you, but they do get things ready. If you start doing those quests and don’t have them in your party, they will move ahead of you and wait for you at the next point.

[thewebcomicsreview]

You know, it's always struck me as a little odd how little most webcomics actually attempt to adapt to their medium. There's basic strips, the old 2k era 4-square, the endless scroll of Webtoons, and a few weird experimental things like Homestuck, but most webcomics I run into tend to stubbornly stick to conventional portrait-oriented page layouts.

It's… readable, I guess, but that format doesn't seem to work very well for either desktop or mobile viewing. It wastes a lot of screen-space, and usually makes it impossible to actually view the full page without making the text too small to read.

Have you encountered any interesting webcomics that experiment with more landscape-oriented layouts? I'm kinda curious about how well that would work.

So, there's this dude Scott McCloud who wrote about comics in the 90s. His first book, Understanding Comics, is literally the book on comics, it's the one schools make kids read. This third book, Making Comics, is a pretty good practical advice guide I'd recommend, even if it's not his groundbreaking seminal work. In between those two books was one called Reinventing Comics

Reinventing Comics, written in 1993, was basically a book of predictions about how this newfangled Interweb was going to revolutionize the art of comics creation. Like a lot of early-90s stuff "Wow the internet!" stuff, it has a lot of inaccurate predictions, and thus isn't super well remembered (though, unlike a lot of early-90s predictions of the internet, it at least vaguely resembled reality).

Anyway, one of the big things from that book was the idea of the "infinite canvas".

Which was basically the idea that a comic didn't have to be constrained by the size of the screen because you could scroll it. And this was a big idea in early webcomics, you heard this phrase a lot. And you'd see infinite canvas techniques like "What if the characters are falling and the comic is really tall to sell that?"

(Read Narbonic)

Which is basically the one and only example that actually took off, because it turns out that scrolling horizontally sucks and no one really wants to do it except as a one-of gimmick (as Homestuck does). The much bigger impact of the internet was that a webcomic could be infinitely long and still reasonably expect it's readership to have read it all, but I think McCloud missed that one. So while there were a bunch of "landscape" webcomics where you scrolled horizontally, none of them took off, and even the ones that were well received are long gone.

Adams himself would make Zot!, which is a vertical scroll comic that had a bit of a gimmick with parallel story beats being literally parallel. I think he even did some branching paths, and experimented with comics that you could read in different directions or that looped back on themselves.

But then Homestuck just did that better because, as I mentioned, infinite depth ended up being a lot more impactful than infinite width. It turns out that making a comic really wide calls a lot of attention to itself and makes the comic annoying to read. And it doesn't mean you can't do it (Homestuck did it!), but it does mean it can't be the gimmick you hang your comic up on unless you've got a really good reason for doing it.

[targaryenluvs]

I absolutely love how you write!! Now I've got this under my skin: basically the President Coriolanus and maid dynamic. The servant has this behavior in which she avoids crossing paths with Coriolanus at all costs but he already has her in his sights.

coriolanus snow x fem!maid!reader

mr president

tw: mdni 18+ (m masturbation, jerked off, implied sex in, power abuse, humiliation kink, guilt trip, cheating, degradation, naive reader, implied short reader)

coriolanus had been watching you all day. you knew it. he knew it, and he didn’t care. you’d always been taught to put your head down, go unnoticed, to just work. but it seems president snow had other ideas to how you could be of service to him, preferably with your legs wide open.

but this week felt different. you were use to his stares, they always seemed to linger even once he was long gone. but lately they set your body on fire, consuming you. you could barely look at him when he asked you to fetch a glass of water, when he requested for another seat at the table to be set tonight, and so on.

he loved to embarrass you with the most ridiculous and tedious jobs. but at first they’d been mild in want, for you to feed him, for you to clean his shoes and tie them, pick any lint off of his coat. but as his desire for you increased so did the humiliating nature of them. to clean the floor in your uniform which he knew you’d ripped that morning on a sharp thorn, to pick up the utensils he’d dropped, when he’d requested fresh new sheets after he’d soiled them himself. watching intently as your hands bunched up the sheets, cradling them in your arms as your cute little face scrunched up in horror as his cum coated your hands.

he loved you.

and you had no idea as to why. you never drew attention to yourself and certainly not enough to warrant his. yet coriolanus was hellbent on having you.

when you were awoken by one of maids in the middle of the night you’d expected something different, maybe one of the girls needed help in cleaning. but when she told you of president snow asking for you specifically for help with something, you could only help but be scared. you didn’t want to go help him with whatever. you didn’t want to be within arms reach of him let alone his own quarters. his wife was away on a business trip that week, leaving him with free time to torment you.

but you went nonetheless, who were you to refuse your dear president?

the entire walk to his quarters had you reassuring yourself, he’ll want you to bring him something. ‘water perhaps, then he’ll let you go. he’ll let you go y/n.’ you approached his door, raising your hand before knocking but a voice stopped you in your tracks. was it a cry? a groan? you leaned into the door, ear pressed against the cold wood, listening for a hint of what was occurring.

‘fuck,’ he groaned out, ‘so good, fuck s’ so good.’ that must be some really good soup! you thought as you smiled, you’d made his soup today and he said he’d eat it later on that night. ‘fuck y/n.’ now you weren’t arrogant, it may have been your soup but you didn’t name it after yourself. you should correct him.

‘mr president?’ your sweet voice called out, your voice went straight to his throbbing cock. ‘c-come in.’ you smiled to yourself as you opened the door only to be with president snow on his bed, hand wrapped around the base of his cock, completely naked with a smirk on his face. definitely not eating soup, you thought. ‘close the door, now.’ you did exactly that, what would someone say if they found the president so indecent? you should protect his image.

‘sit down.’ you crept over to him before hoisting yourself up, your small frame dwarfed by the overly-large bed. meant for two. his wife! you instantly covered your eyes like a child who’d seen something they just weren’t meant to. ‘i’m so sorry president snow, i didn’t mean to look. i’ll leave.’ you rambled as you slowly wriggled away, but not before his hand landed on your thigh. ‘i didn’t call you in here for you to leave right after.’ his hand rubbed into your thigh, soft and gentle, everything he wasn’t. it drew a soft moan from your lips, snows smug expression was evident, only if you’d just open your eyes.

your hands slowly peeled away from your face as you gazed into his eyes, ‘i saw you looking before, you liked it didn’t you slut?” for some reason the word made you blush as you looked down at your lap, his hand was playing with the hem of your night dress. ‘no mr snow.’ you bashfully replied, his hand worked its way up underneath your dress, the other preoccupied with his dick.

‘no? am i not pretty?’ you eyes widened at the implication, president coriolanus snow, ugly? he was anything but, ‘no! i- i mean yes, yes you are pretty, very pretty mr president.’ he grinned at your words, ‘yeah? you wanna prove it to me? you’d do anything for your president right?’ you nodded along quickly, not before gasping as his hand now played with the waistband of your underwear.

‘i want you to suck me off.’

‘suck what?’ his eyes trailed downwards.

‘oh! oh.’

the sentence sent your head into a spin, were you really going to do this? but his sweet voice, so soft and hushed, his body illuminated by the gentle orange glow of his lamp, his hooded eyes, so sleepy. it all coaxed you in as he led your hand to where he needed.

another quiet groan escaped coriolanus’s lips as your thumb rubbed over the tip of his cock. he was already close but just your presence, along with your hand had him tipping over the edge. your slow tugs, unsure and trying, your timid voice, ‘am i helping you sir?’ sir, the clear line distinguished the two of you in place. ‘yes, yes you are y/n. call me by my name.’ and soon enough he reached his peek, sticky release all over your tiny hands.

he was sure the picture would be ingrained in his head, you’d lifted your hands as you simply stared at them, then looking up at coriolanus.

‘what do i do?’

‘swallow.’

[lxmelle]

Gojo was once described by Gege as a “man of resignation”.

It is a facet of enlightenment - in which the concept of “non-attachment” is a big part of (attachment is viewed as the root of suffering).

We can interpret “resignation” in so many ways, as it explains so much about his immense capacity for love / acceptance, but also his tendency to... simply resign himself to an outcome / fate I guess - a form of passivity that can be either considered positive or negative, perhaps depending on outcome.

Going with the flow, neither chasing nor halting anything in particular with his immense might and potential. He swayed things to gently influence an outcome. Followed a designated path trying to rebuild the sorcerer world through being a teacher... which he couldn’t fully commit too either, because he had a role as a special grade who had to keep working.

That’s not to say he didn’t achieve anything - because of course he did. But nothing revolutionary. He said so himself to Geto: he didn’t see a point in it. There were just some things he didn’t think would change - someone else would replace the higher-ups.

And thus. Despite his massive strength, he never did ever manage to go all out. Perhaps this is symbolic of an inherently gentle/accepting nature? But there was indeed a monster inside him too - the one that thrived on the thrill of killing and defeating. It was a beast he seldom let out. It was a beast with a thirst.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll paraphrase: like a sprinter limited to go at 8kmph, like a singer who is only allowed to whisper her song, a painter unable to use any paints for their desired masterpiece - how dreadfully, painfully unfulfilling.

So of course it was FUN to have this final brawl with Sukuna - to give it his very best, especially when he also didn’t feel lonely anymore with a bunch of monsters he can pass the gauntlet (his body and his will) onto in the worst case scenario.

But of course Gojo doesn’t have the ability to predict the future, so how can anyone expect that he make decisions and judgements perfectly or accurately? All he can do is consider based on his own judgement. Alone. As the only other person who help him plug those holes in his judgement, Geto, had left him.

It is up to interpretation whether Geto was left behind first, but this really isn’t a competition or about assigning blame… because where do we even start?

One cannot hold Gojo totally accountable for things that happen around him or how others interpret his actions. He was born different to everyone else. Probably treated as if he had this role to fill where people had an idea of what they wanted or needed him to be, but never gave much thought over what it would feel like for him.

Gojo, Shoko, and those left behind have had to suffer the same resignation. After all: What else are you supposed to do but resign yourself, in the face of a reality where even to things you don’t wish to happen, have to happen? All you can do is what you can... and if you can, you wield it with all your might.

Geto tried it to the best of his ability.

He wasn’t Gojo, who could do it if he wanted to.

Understanding that Gojo wasn’t, and accepting that he (Geto) shouldn’t change that about him (Gojo), as he was likely more suited to be at the school - essentially following nanami’s words and “leaving it to him” as Gojo was in his element / thrived on it, but Geto couldn’t be complicit in the system that would lead them to watch their own kind die one by one — Geto left to follow his ideals.

Gojo was referred to as the only one who can take that curse into his own hands. I used to see it as “the only one to kill Geto” after he failed and almost lost his humanity for the sake of power (killing Yuta would go against his principles) but now it also has a new meaning: the only one who can take charge and pursue the ideals to actually change the world.

The curse is the sh*t that is in the world of sorcery in jjk. Gojo seemed to (imho) now feel the need to catch up and hold the reins this time.

It is the end of Resignation Man Gojo Satoru. The emergence of The Monster Gojo Satoru (who Geto assisted in helping Gojo keep at bay through being the “model of humanity” that Gojo could follow) who was then fully ready to take the stand. Like Geto on that stage.

Bye higher ups.

Before, despite his immense strength, he didn’t force his way through. Perhaps this was the outcome of having been forced to be born and live with no choice but to be the six eyes + limitless. You do not actually have freedom.

Unless, you’re willing to become a pariah. To wield these cards that were dealt to you and completely become the extraordinary.

And now, Yuta embraces the same resigned acceptance of becoming a monster. After all... only a few will be able and willing to turn into a Monster.

Out of love. A Monstrous love indeed.

Geto had monstrous motherhood in him. I guess this extends to others now too. To cast away humanity because nobody else will. Nobody else can. So they have to wield it. Become it.

Yuta represents both the old and new world... in some way, he is like Gojo and Geto combined... power / strength + sincerity / kindness. Of course, like the yin and yang, each half has a bit of the other in it - so Gojo and Geto had a combination of power and compassion, but they symbolically represent each,

Arguably, had Geto someone else by his side, things may have been different.

All of this mess… ugh.

It didn’t have to come to this, right? Nor did it have to be the extermination of humans, but it could’ve been a collaboration of the special grades (Yuki, Gojo, Geto) all trying to solve the 3 different factors to the problem: humans as the origin of curses (research), the old-fashioned higher ups + clans, and the elimination of the curses. There may be others, but you get my gist.

But alas, this is the jjk world.

Just some thoughts, I’ll end it here before it’s more word vom.

[alice-angel12x]

Born of Unknown Stardust

(Platonic) Lucifer x (???)Child! reader Pt.1

&lt;-Prologue/ Next pt. 2 ->

------------------------------------------------------

50years Later-

"They're a cute little bell, so I don't lose you," Lucifer smiles as he looks down at the cute bell on the bow he made for the tiny creature.

Over the last 50 years, being so tiny it was pretty easy for Lucifer to lose them out of nowhere.

"Huh, I should give you a name. Something to call you by... Uummm. I'll just call you (Y/n) Yuu. What do you think?" Lucifer asked, Yuu only blinked at his words.

"Ummm, actually I've noticed something. You have not grown or changed at all over the past 50 years. You still haven't spoken, or even asked for food... You don't do much. Do... Do you eat? Are you hungry?" Lucifer asked in concern as he tickled Yuu's tiny belly. Earning cute little squeaks from them.

As Yuu giggles, leaning back to get away from the tickling. They leaned farther and farther, till they fell over the counter edge they were sitting on. Lucifer panicked as he dove to catch Yuu, only to stare in a stupor as Yuu levitated a foot above his waiting hands.

"The in the world?" Lucifer gasped as Yuu started to float upward.

Yuu continued to float higher and higher, till a gentle hand intercepted their upward path. That hand belonged to his fellow seraphim Sera.

"I didn't think flight was possible without wings," Sera commented. "How did you teach it to accomplish this?"

"I didn't, they just... Did...It," Lucifer said as he gently pulled Yuu down, and held them against his chest. "Anyways what are you doing here?"

"Well, I hear mortal life or infants tend to eat a lot. So I gathered some vegetation from the earth for this creature," Sera said as she held a glass of pureed fruits.

"I don't know, Yuu has never... Never really asked for anything. Or spoke, they kind of just roll around and be cute," Lucifer shrugs, as Sera holds the glass to Yuu's lips.

The little critter took one sip, two sips, then a gulp. Then proceeded to chug the entire glass, as Sera and Lucifer watched in shock and slight concern. It did just drank a cup that was as big as itself.

'' Are you sure?" Sera asked.

“A-any ways, speaking of earth. I actually all have a bunch of cool ideas we can do, and if you’d-“ “Lucifer. No,” Sera interrupted.

“We’ve already told you to please stay out of this project. As wonderful as these ideas are. They are too risky. I’m sorry,” Sera apologizes sadly. “For know just study this critter… Yuu? Correct? Just keep on eye on them and tell us what you find.”

And with that, Sera left to rejoin the elders to continue the further creation of earth. Yuu watched in curiosity as they felt a shift in Lucifer. His wonder filled smile was replaced by a small frown.

———————

With a string, the end of Yuu’s tail was tied to a small weight so they wouldn’t float away. As Lucifer sat at his work bench in frustration, as Yuu tried to nom through the string to get free. Which was difficult when you don’t have teeth.

But eventually Yuu was distracted from their goal as they noticed Lucifer mess and mold with dust. Shaping them into many different and strange creatures.

Yet each time it looked complete, Lucifer would quickly crumble it down, in frustration.

“I don’t get it! What is so risky about my ideas!” Lucifer shouted as he rested his head on the desk.

Yuu stared in awe at the dust before them. So crawling over, they start to gather the dust. Slowly giving it shape and volume. And by the time they were done… it was something about as big as them. It had a head an oval body and a long mouth.

Yuu stared at its dust figure till.

“Dak,” a tiny voice said. “Dak!”

Lucifer jumped a bit, startled by sudden voice. He looked down at Yuu and their crude makeshift creature.

“Umm huh?!” Lucifer said in a stuper.

“Dak,” Yuu pointed to their creation.

“Oh, umm. It’s.. it’s something. Very cute,” Lucifer said with a confused smile.

Yuu hugged the dust clump, when a golden light started to shine from Yuu. The dust clump slowly started to change. Yellow feathers grew, and an orange bill was revealed as the dust trickled off. But before the creature could come to be, it crumbled back into lifeless dust.

“Umm,” Lucifer said slowly, when he noticed tears well in Yuu’s eyes begin to well up with tears. “Oh no no no. It’s okay. Ummm uhh."

Lucifer panics as he gently cradles Yuu when an idea comes to mind. With a snap of his fingers, Yuu was put into a new little attire.

"Aww look how cute you are. Know you the duck," Lucifer gushed as he held a small mirror in front of Yuu.

You looked at their reflection in awe as a tiny giggle escaped their lips.

__________________________________

Pt.3 ? Continue?

Masterlist Here

[countlessofvoids]

I know I'm five years late on this and frankly this conversation is really fucking annoying at this point, but I gained analytical skills just recently, got hyperfixated on HTTYD again and have few things on my mind;

There's a ridiculous amount of bad writing decisions regarding the third movie's main antagonist and even more in the entirety of the film. However in my opinion, Grimmel's character could improve even if you kept all other aspects the same by getting rid of one plot point. And that is "drugging deathgrippers with their own venom".

One the dumbest parts of THW, only beaten by Toothless & light fury's boring romance and the movie's message. But the difference between those is those at least serve some purpose. This could go unmentioned and much wouldn't change. Sure, it shows us Grimmel uses their venom for his crossbow arrows, other than that, the "slavery" aspect is useless. All it does is make him ridiculously evil. Because the audience forgot he's not nice, apparently.

What I'm getting at is - I believe a better alternative would be the deathgrippers serving Grimmel not because they're forced to, but because they want to. Make them have genuine bond like Hiccup has with Toothless.

In universe justification: Deathgrippers are said to be intelligent dragons, so they'd probably understand that working with some creature who helps them hunt is beneficial for them. And since they're pack animals, hunting also works as a bonding activity. This would be a perfect gateway for Grimmel to make them more loyal to him. They don't necessarily need to have Hiccup & Toothless' bond (although I would personaly prefer it that way). Think of it like the speedstinger in RTTE - Despite not liking Snotlout at all, it defended him against the other speedstingers because it considered him a part of it's pack.

Writing/narrative justification: Having a group of dragons take part in killing simply for their enjoyment portrays them as intelligent creatures, which emphasizes how similiar dragons are to humans. Some are assholes just because! Also it means them dying at the end isn't a horrible way of making your audience question your protagonist's morals, since in this version they kinda deserved it.

Grimmel being friends with a bunch of dragons while hating all the others gives him depth as a character - it makes him a hypocrite.

But most importantly, Hiccup and Grimmel being parallels would be much clearer. It shows how they're the same person on different paths, that he could be like Hiccup but choose not to. Or it could lead to him being a parallel to Valka. Older person who doesn't like other people and prefers living with dragons? Sounds like Valka to me!

Now this could create a plot hole with the whole Alpha thing, since in canon they don't listen due to being drugged. However I choose to ignore that because I don't like the idea of every dragon mindlessly following Toothless no matter what personality and concept of the alpha in itself.

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Jareth x dreamy reader🔮💭🌌

Part 2

Masquerade ball scene🎭👗💃🔮

(A/n: hello, thought I'd make another part 2. I wanted to make it a bit different from the movie version. Enjoy 😉. Please comment and reblog, helps me alot 💖.)

Requests: open for labyrinth

Part 1 here

You knew where you were going. You were certain. You were the optimist. A dream mixed with sweetness. The definition of a sweet dream.

The environment was clumped with overgrown vines, trees, shrubs, and more stoned walls. Twas another obstacle, something to deter you from the path you went before.

"She'll never make it. She's not even heading in the right direction." Two short, stubby hairy creatures with protruding snouts, identicle to the next observed you sludging through the jungle. One spoke in a high high-pitched accent and the other a deep husk. It was like, similar to that of two young children watching a grown-up waiting for the moment to tell them 'I told you so'.

"She'll end up lost." The high pitch one said.

"Stuck." The low pitch responded.

"Mhm, stuck, that's what I said, stuck."

"You said lost."

"Mhm, stuck, lost, forever and ever."

You ended up reaching a tree, grabbing its vines, clinging to it carefully, not falling into the vines, or the vegetation that over grew even more. You swore they moved. Moving and increasing like snakes to block your path.

The one on the left shook his head, making a tsk sound with his tongue. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, never going to learn."

"No."

"Never going to make it."

"Never."

"Lost."

"Stuck."

"Forever."

"And ever."

Growing frustrated you tried to look for any sort of branch or loose vine that's strong enough to swing you across from the small island with the giant oaken tree to the platform covered in broken, grey, stoned paver's against the concrete slab.

You thought for a moment of jumping in; perhaps that's the only way. You would need all your strength to break through the dense vegetation, but, better than nothing.

"Oooooh, shes going to jump in."

You looked up to see a small creature sitting on a tree branch, wearing medieval scottish garb.

"Jump! Jump! Down ya go!"

"Down, down".

"Thar she goes."

"Into the unkown."

"Where will she stop."

"We won't know."

The two creatures then proceeded to laugh. Thinking there was no other way you paused to speak to them. "Excuse me, but would you please help me to get across."

"Oooh, help ya, quite bold of ya ta ask."

"Help you with such a task."

"To break the rules."

"To help with you to glory, or to your doom."

"Oh, help, help, power, power. The power we hold."

You were getting fed up. You didn't have time to waste for such nonsense. "Please, I don't have much time."

The two gazed at each other and then back at you. They then held up their hands, whispering to each other.

"Ok."

"Very well."

"We will agree to help."

"If you can solve a puzzle."

"Solve a mystery."

"Very well, what's the mystery, what's the riddle." You asked, smiling. You always had fun with these kinds of things. Surely, it's not too difficult of a task.

"Oh, brave, very brave. We will agree to help you."

"If you can figure out—"

"Which."

"Is which."

"Who is knick."

"And who is knack."

"Is he this."

"Or is he that."

They laugh once more.

You had to think for a moment. It seemed obvious for knick to have the higher voice and knack to have the lower. Though, knowing this place, tricks and turns come at every corner. You had to think hard, "well..." the creatures listened intently.

"You must be knick," you pointed to the one with the highest pitch. "And you must be knack." And the same for the lower pitch creature.

They glanced at each other, bewildered. "She—she's right."

"Correct."

"Now we have no choice."

"Help the girl."

"Save her from doom."

You smiled in brightness, you were getting the hang of this. Usually, you weren't the brightest of the bunch, often feeling half witted compared to other work colleagues or strangers that speak to you as if they had any idea of what you mean.

"Yes, now, will you please help me?" she said gently to the creatures with kindness.

"Very well." Knack hopped down from the tree as the other did the same. "Nnn, ok, let's see here, oh yes, just a twist and a snap, nnn," he muttered to himself. "Knick, where was tha spot again."

"Spot?"

"Aye, the spot, you know, tis a tap, one, two three."

Knick hopped down from the tree, looking like he hasn't slept in ages. He groaned getting up "errr let's see here, was it here, err no, no t'wasn't."

"Aha!, I found it." He stood at the edge of the small mount. "Give it ere, y'know, the ol' knock." Knick held out his hand for the long stick, that actually resembled a small staff.

"The ol'clock" he said.

"The ol'knock?" You questioned.

"Mhm, that's what I said the ol' knock."

"You said ol'clock" you mentioned.

"Mhm, that's what I said the ol' knock." Knack handed knick the staff.

Knick stuck the staff inside the hole. "mhm, there it is."

"Knew it was there."

"You were close."

"Very."

"Best stand back." You and knack took a step back expecting something rather big and tremendous.

He then started hitting the ground thrice, precisely three seconds in between. And—as you waited—

Nothing. Nothing happened.

"That was it" Knack said slightly disappointed. "Must be more to it then that."

"Give er a minute." Knick said, repeating the same movement once more.

All of a sudden, the ground began to quake. The vine's, roots, and vegetation slithered away. Creating a pathway for you to cross.

Knack posed with the stick expecting a 'thank you' of sorts.

"It's clear." You said thankful.

"Pathway m'lady." Knick proudly spoke.

"Always a boaster aren't you." Knack clicked his tongue tsk-ing at knick.

"Thank you both." You said walked along the gravel like path with mis matched grey stone pavers.

You felt confident, all you needed to do now was pass through the goblin city and get to the castle where you can find the king and return to your normal life, redeeming your wish, taking it back.

The two creatures waved at you as you looked smug, however, in that moment—something went wrong.

The floor beneath you began to crumble, creating a hole you fell through. "Woa!" You screamed.

The creatures staring unphased spoke. "Now, knick, did you remind her of the hole there."

"Don't beileve so."

"Well, she's well on her way to her doom now."

"Never to return."

"Never to come back."

"Trapped."

"Lost."

"Stuck."

"Forever."

"And ever."

"Mhm that's what I said lost, stuck, forever and ever."

They then started to laugh from the mounted island with the giant oaken tree.

-------

You slid down to what almost felt like a water slide, dirt and mud covered your clothes as you screamed. Turning, twisting and speeding down the slippery rabbit hole.

Eventually, you landed in a place that seemed rather empty, dark, and voided of any life. To your astonishment, a wooden stave dripped in tar lit on fire. So the king was playing fair—for now.

You grabbed the wooden stave, expecting it to disappear as you touched it—assuming it was another illusionary trick.

You wandered through the mysterious catacomb, believing it was an old city from another time. You took a moment to glance around at the structures; you were fascinated.

They seemed old, ancient, as if structured from inspiration from another city like Atlantis, Egypt, Greece, Rome pompeii, before the doom.

You trailed on for what seemed like hours, or rather perhaps twenty minutes. That was until you stumbled upon a structure, a structure that resembled an old standing mirror. The outer rim was decored in ornated wood and silver, and patterns of fairytails surrounded it. You couldn't help but run your hands down the side of it. Although, seemingly, some of these patterns resembled small items sparking old memories throughout your life. He wasn't kidding when he claimed he knew you better.

The glass of the mirrors reflection suddenly started to shift. Within the reflection, an illusion played out, like something that only happened in movies. You watched closely. It showed a room of white with sparkling glitter falling along with huge bubble like crystals floated around.

You were hypnotised. Entranced. Many of the women and men donned in different vibrant colours of frock coats, sack-back gowns, and masks resembling different animals.

Curious, your finger lifted to the mirror. Your finger push through the mirrors glass like liquid. Like moving water. You pulled your finger out, afraid and bewildered.

Looking closer, the men and women that danced in the costumes all waltzed; laughing, chattering and singing. Somehow, it drew you in, you always loved the ball scenes in movies.

This seems too familiar, somehow, like wasn't this from the movie. The part where she lost track of time, memory and herself.

Hesitantly, you looked behind the mirror. Nothing. And it seemed the only way through this was through the ornated wooden, silver mirror.

Shaking your head, you pushed through, taking a deep breath and holding it. It was quick. Like a flash. Your body felt a cold wetness for a second, and the next, you opened your eyes.

You wandered through, astounded beyond belief of the whole setting. You could hear singing and like in a trance, you began to loose your train of thought. As your eyes glanced down, you wore formal attire that seemed way too otherworldly or perhaps something you remembered wearing once before.

You traversed through the venetian masquerade ball. Many of the men and women, laughing your way as you passed. They seemed unphased by your presence. You turned and spun slowly trying take in your surroundings, trying not to lose touch with reality.

Oh, but how far you've already drifted from it.

You fidgeted with an item of yours that was close to you. Each moment, each time you moved closer, the more you started to forget, lose train of thought. Becoming one within the world of daydreams.

Oh y/n, you're already losing. You just don't know it yet.

Your vision became a sudden blur as suddenly you even forgot your name. You listened to the sound of the music, as many danced around you. Was, was this your purpose. Yes. This must be why you're here. To dance. To dream. To dance and dream. To be here. Forever.

Oh, you poor, callow minded creature, I've already won. You'll remain here forever. You've lost your innocence. You'll never see your dear ones again. You'll never go back. Forget about your home, the ones you hold so dear, dreams of realism, and live forever within a dream of our own.

You began to sway, having no little reason to believe this was your purpose. You moved fluently, dancing to yourself. Moving your arms and gracefully swaying your legs. Stepping in a glide to fit in with the crowd. Wasn't this what you wanted. To fit in when no one understands you. Now they can, here, where you can be safe and sound. Where no one can judge you and your free to be someone.

To be yourself. To live within your fantasises.

As you heard the sound of the gentle music sing. You spun and spun, feeling the reality drain away. Feeling happy. Free. Joy. Love.

Suddenly, you stopped in someone's tracks, and you delicately held your arms beside you. Dreamily looking up. He stood there. A man that felt familiar but you couldn't grasp the name of.

He wore a glittery, deep, blue frockcoat with an ornated cravert attached to a white poet linen blouse beneath. Without a word, you stood back, gripping the fabric of your attire. You didn't trust him. He seemed. Evil? No, not exactly the correct words but—

Evil, well that's a bit far-fetched, don't you think.

The mysterious man held an odd venetian mask to his face attached to an ornated handle. The horns from the mask somewhat made you curious. You shouldn't approach. However, he held out his hand covered in a white glove.

Your hand hovered over his. However, you continued to dance, dismissing him. You spun and turned. Locked in a daydream.

Much to his annoyance, he tried to garner your attention. As you danced, many of the ladies and gents laughed and tried to offer their hand. Purposefully trying to block your path to guide you back to the mysterious man.

However, you simply drifted past them. Elegantly frolicking past the crowd. You felt free.

Careful y/n, look, their eyes are gazing upon you. Their judging your actions.

You continued to joyously spin and turn, kicking your leg in the air as you moved freely, ignoring the voice.

The mysterious man glanced with impatience. Surely this was supposed to happen, yet—he wanted something more...

He attempted to grasp you, following your movements. Yet, to no avail could he hold your attention. It was agitating. You were an irritating creature.

Only until did he take a step, you stopped in front of him. Stuck in a daze. He glanced directly at you. Looking into your eyes. His mouth slightly parted, showing a mixture of tantalisation and pique.

You moved to glide around the dance room. He couldn't control you. He trapped you. Yet. He couldn't grasp you. You were a dream, he couldn't touch.

Eventually you stopped at the mirror, the same one you entered. You took a look at yourself dreamily. You could see an illusion, the illusion of yourself in the reflection of the glass but—wearing different clothes—Were those what you wore previously. Was that you? Didn't you have a purpose? You were here for something?

City? To get to the city? To meet the ki—

You gasped as someone gently touched your shoulder. Looking up, it was the same mysterious man whoms voice sounded familiar. "Oh dear, daydreaming again are you." He said in a mysterious, mystical tone.

"The—mirror—I saw?" You looked back.

"And that was." He grasped both your shoulders, prompting you to take a closer look. "I think you should look again, carefully this time. Look deeply within the mirrors reflection y/n."

You looked once more in the mirror's reflection, seeing nothing but the reflecting dream. "I-i beileve I saw—"

"A dream y/n, you saw. A. Dream." He spoke, concluded. "Dreams. Oh, what's that? " You laughed, smiling.

"Illusion." He smiled back in response. "Would you like me to show you." He guided your gaze back to the mirror. You saw yourself but, wearing different clothes. You watched as many people you thought you knew speak ill of you. Your loved ones resuming their normal lives without you and flashes of words you remembered that made your heart ache. You turned to him, tears streaking down your face. As though you were confused, not knowing why and yet feeling the pain washed over you.

"What. What is this." You say watching it. It felt so real.

"This is your reality y/n, this is what's real."

You wanted to take it all away. You wanted to imagine again. "If this is reality, I do not want it, take it away—please"

"Of course, you can, look." In the mirror you saw, yourself, in royal attire, that fitted only you. The style formed from a balance of your imagination and dreams. You saw yourself spinning forever smiling, not existing in that horrid illusion he showed.

"You can remain here with me. They won't mind. you're free here y/n. Free to do whatever you oh so desire." He offered his hand out to you.

Taking it out of curiosity. He smiled. He will keep you here, until time runs out. Forever making you his. A dream within his world.

He glided you across the room, as you danced in unison. Twirling, spinning, gliding, turning, dancing—to remain here. Forever.

Dancing with this mystical stranger felt right and—wrong. As he spun you, smiling. You were trying to remember something. A flicker of a memory, something within your mind. "City?"

To feel safe.

"Wasn't there a city, somewhere."

You need to feel free.

Y/n.

"There's a city I must go to."

Stay with me.

"I'm certain."

I'm your haven.

"To."

Your my dream.

"To go beyond, the walls of the—GOBLIN CITY! THE CASTLE!"

Your eyes flickered as if you awoke from the spell. You broke away, pushing him. You grabbed the fabric of your attire trying to run. In that moment, the guests were trying to surround you, to block you once more. You pushed and shoved them, rushing toward the mirror from which you came. The mysterious figure you recalled felt familiar, turned out, to be the king himself. Of course, he was tricking you. To make you lose yourself, to steal time away in order to make you forget, so you would lose.

That's why you remembered that scene in particular, oh how foolish you felt—but—you broke the spell.

The king, in frustration, grasped a crystal ball from thin air. Throwing it toward you. Showing all your greatest fears and wounds in a mass of shadow. As your eyes widened, you grabbed a chair, breaking the surface of the mirror's protective seal. You jumped through the liquid. Almost in an instant, you felt yourself falling, floating. To a near trash heap, only you describe it as a literal dump.

You held your hand to your head. As though you had a pounding headache. Once you realise your surroundings and gather your barings. You looked down, seeing the elegant attire you wore in the dream, a torn, trashed garbage piece. Suppose it was still clothing. Much to your annoyance. You sneer in disgust. He practically just dressed you in an illusionary trick.

You were sick of this, yet, you were thrilled. You loved the excitement of that dream, waking up. Now you were more determined more then ever to take back your wish and finish this off.

You trudged off through the trash pile, to the goblin castle beyond the goblin city.

Perhaps, you might even ask if he could return your clothes too.

[alexanderwales]

Pitchposting: Tradwife

Alright, usually I do pitchposting when I think a concept has legs but I don't have the time or inclination to actually write it. I'm not sure about this one though.

The premise is that it's an isekai, but our protagonist is a Gen Z late-teenage girl who is deep into a neo-conservative neo-traditional mindset that she's picked up from TikTok or whatever. She gets thrust into a fantasy world with their own conservative traditional gender roles, and the story happens from there.

I guess I have to start with what appeals to me: this is a fish-out-of-water clash of cultures story that's premised on the protagonist assuming that this is what she wants. It's "weeaboo goes to Japan". That basic pitch is a classic one, though much more rare than "naïve fish-out-of-water knows nothing", and usually the narrative path is disillusionment followed by some kind of synthesis where either the world changes because of the protagonist or the protagonist realizes that the world has its own merits that are different from the naïve notions that they came in with.

And I think you certainly could tell a story where our tradwifelette protagonist was instantly disabused of the notion that tradwifery was what she was imagining, or where it's instantly shown that she doesn't and cannot fit in, that she is ill-prepared for this world she's been dreaming of, simply does not have the material and emotional skills that she needs, etc. And I think that this would be somewhat boring to me.

So what I'm pitching instead is the textured approach, one where we try to slowly pick apart our protagonist's psyche rather than flash-boiling her. We're not ripping this sweater in half, we're pulling at threads until the whole thing is undone. She gets courted (somehow), and gets married, and her husband is not abusive, and she isn't locked away, but there are expectations and she is confined in the way that she had wished to be confined.

(The central example of an aspirational tradwife wants to be transported into the world that mostly existed in 1950s adverts for kitchen appliances. It's a fantasy that's at least partly about prosperity and leisure, and having someone take care of you. I think "woman transported back to the 50s" is something that could work, but is not to my tastes for a variety of reasons. The central example of a tradwife influencer has a bunch of kids, lots of support, puts on a happy face, and hustles like hell to work on photos and videos and stuff. The difference between the influencer and the false reality the influencer is peddling is interesting, but beyond the scope of this idea.)

Anyway, I feel like there are a ton of romance novels featuring women transported back in time so they can get in romantic entanglements with brooding, muscular men, and the romance genre is so wide that there are many different types of men, and many different types of protagonists. So probably this has been done, and been done many times. But there's something that tickles me about giving our hypothetical Zoomer everything she wants and then watching the ways it makes her dissatisfied.

There are obviously some pitfalls to watch out for here, and I think if I were writing this, it would be with the intent that I get at the fantasy and what makes it appealing, then at specifically the ways in which that fantasy offers its own internal paradoxes, rather than the ways in which it's unrealistic or impossible or whatever, the external paradoxes.

And this would take a lot of research, I guess, because I have some inklings about what makes the Zoomer wannabe tradwives tick, but the point would be to deconstruct it from the inside (hard), rather than from the outside (easy).

[callmearcturus]

Paradise Killer is 6 dollars on Steam until May 16 and I am here to hard sell you all on it because it's one of the best games I've ever played.

I'm gonna go beyond giving you a bunch of punchy keywords and telling you it's queer as hell and making meme-y jokes, and I'm going to actually tell you what this game is.

So top-level, WHAT IS PARADISE KILLER?

Mechanically, Paradise Killer is an open-world murder mystery. There is zero combat but a lot of exploration of a very unique location. The majority of your time is going to be walking about Paradise 24, looking for people to discuss the case with and for clues that are scattered around the world.

One of the most interesting concepts in Paradise Killer that is both mechanical and narrative is deciding What Is Your Truth? What Is A Truth And What Is A Fact? From the moment you start the game proper, you can turn 180 degrees and begin the trial and decide who the killer is, before talking to anyone about the case.

For example, getting into the actual crime scene takes a lot of puzzle solving to unlock the sealed room where the victims were killed. But maybe instead of examining the crime scene, you talk to everyone on the island and think you have a good idea of what happened.

Meaning: It is perfectly valid to decide you have the answer to the mystery and just go complete the trial whenever you personally are ready. YOU decide when this ends.

Which frankly I think is a cool-as-fuck concept. Also, I fully believe if three different people find EVERY CLUE and talk to EVERY SUSPECT and hear EVERY PIECE OF EVIDENCE.... they might decide on three different truths entirely. And THAT to me is ingenious mechanical design I have not seen anywhere else in a video game.

Okay let's stop burying the lede and talk about the world of Paradise Killer.

The non-batshit version:

Paradise Killer takes place on a big, beautiful island, the 24th Paradise. The architecture is a delightful mix of black obsidian obelisks, brutalist monuments, opal crystals to slumbering alien gods, garden paths, luxury yachts, and a whole lot of gold and neon.

Neo-occultist urban residential vaporwave-core. If you are like me, you will be taking a lot of screenshots. My wallpaper on my computer is Paradise Killer.

Your interactions with the cast are done in visual novel-style, though I feel I have to shout out this isn't your stock Ren'py UI experience. Every single aspect of the way the game looks compounds the vibes even further.

And the characters are infuckingcredible.

(Notice the different font? This game has A FUCKTON OF ACCESSIBILITY OPTIONS, including dyslexic font options.)

Sammy Day Break, born under the sign of Shadow Zero, is the local distillery and bartender for the Syndicate. Talk to him about what's unique about the whiskey he's made on Paradise 24, or about the good old days of the Syndicate.

Is Doctor Doom Jazz, born under the sign of Cosmic Deceit, really that carefree about what happened? Is his willingness to rekindle his fling with Lady Love Dies just a diversion to hide something? Well, he's one of the most cooperative witnesses on the Island.

Crimson Acid has been through a helluva lot since the last time she saw Love Dies. Blessed by the gods with her stunning rack (of horns! OF HORNS!), she's become quite the idol now. So why is she also an information broker? And can you figure out what her true feelings for Love Dies are?

Between all of these conversations, you can explore the island and collect RELICS and BLOOD CRYSTALS (the local currency) and CITY POP SONGS.

Okay so the Slightly Batshit Version:

Shinji: The Syndicate worships alien gods who want to drown the world in war and blood. Lady Love Dies: I don't see how that makes us the bad guys.

You are LADY LOVE DIES, born under the sign KISS ME TO THE MOON, the INVESTIGATION FREAK. She was exiled to the Idle Lands several cycles ago for falling prey to the seduction of the god Damned Harmony and endangering the entire Syndicate. Only now, with the death of the Council on the eve of Paradise 25, is Love Dies summoned back to solve the murder.

The Syndicate are a group of functionally immortal humans from all across history who are trying to create the perfect bubble of reality, their utopic Paradise where they can safely revive their dead gods. They were granted many powers and boons by their first god, Silent Goat, and hope through rescuing more gods they will grow in power.

How do you create a bubble of reality to do all this totally ethical shit? Easy! You abduct a bunch of normie humans to live on your island to use as a mass sacrifice to generate energy to fuel the creation of each Paradise. If only the outsiders would stop getting in the way!

Paradise Killer's world is delightfully out of its goddamn mind and half of the fun of the game is just picking up little nuggets of information about each member of the Syndicate, the gods, why each Paradise failed (there was an outbreak of vampirism that took out like three of the Paradises???), and just the way this universe works.

Okay this post is already too long but I'm begging you all to give Paradise Killer a chance. It's gorgeous, it's funny, it's mechanically really interesting, it's chill as hell, it has an incredible soundtrack,

and you should try it.

I'LL SEE YOU IN A PERFECT 25 . . .

[ettena088]

Into The Digital Woods.

Once upon a time, in a distant digital kingdom, there was a small village at the edge of a vast digital forest. In that village, there lived a beautiful ragdoll, a somewhat paranoid jester, and a couple of chess pieces: a white king and a black queen, which was quite ironic since, being simple bakers, they lacked the riches that royalty was expected to have. However, this story isn't about the poverty and misfortune of these bakers... or maybe it is.

Ahem! As I was saying, each of these unique characters had a particular wish.

The beautiful doll wanted more than anything to attend the festival the King would host. The paranoid jester wished for her old cow to start giving milk again. And the couple of kings - I mean, of bakers - wanted to have a child. And it was thanks to these wishes that, unknowingly, the paths of these lovable characters would be wrapped up in a magical, risky, and strange adventure that would undoubtedly be an experience they would never forget.

It was a cloudy day, with a light drizzle, and the wind blew a gentle breeze. For many, this day would be as ordinary as the day before, but not for the beautiful ragdoll named Ragatha, because this special day marked the beginning of the festival the King had prepared to find a beautiful maiden to marry his son, Prince Jax.

So, Ragatha had woken up very early, intending to start her daily chores and hoping that if she finished on time, she could attend the festival.

"I heard you want to go to the festival," said a woman, in a mocking tone.

The poor doll's mother had died, and her father had remarried a woman with two daughters.

"Ragatha? At the festival?" someone else mocked. "Don't make me laugh! Taking her with us would completely ruin our image."

"I won't cause trouble, I just want to go to the festival and have a good time," Ragatha explained, tiredly. At that moment, the doll was scrubbing the kitchen floor.

"And what would you do there? Dance with the prince? Hahahaha," mocked a third voice.

"Just look at yourself! Look at your dress full of patches!" laughed one of the stepsisters.

"Or your hair, which looks like a bunch of worms tangled together," added the other sister while disgustedly touching a strand of the doll’s red woolen hair.

"People will laugh at you," the stepmother commented while kicking the bucket full of soap, causing it to fall and soak Ragatha's dress.

"However," whispered the doll.

"You want to go to the King's festival and dance in front of the prince," they finished together, bursting into a loud laugh.

The three were very beautiful, but they had hearts as black and vile as coal.

Meanwhile, in a humble and rustic cottage, the little jester, named Pomni, was accompanied by a thin, smelly cow named Gummigoo. The jester had no mother, and her father...

"What the hell is the cow doing inside the house?!" shouted a raspy voice, coming from a grumpy clown.

Well, he wasn’t very handsome or graceful.

"D-Dad," Pomni nervously replied, "W-well, I thought it would be a good idea to let Gummigoo stay inside today because maybe a warm environment is what he needs to finally give us milk."

"It's not 'he,' it's 'she.' How many times do I have to tell you?" said the clown, rolling his eyes. "Only females can give milk."

Pomni gently petted the cow's head, and with a mix of nervousness and seriousness, she responded, "But what if Gummigoo... identifies as a male? Maybe that's why he isn't giving milk, maybe he’s going through an... identity crisis."

Kaufmo fell silent for a second, blinking slowly before putting his hand to his face in frustration. "Pomni, my dear," he said quietly, "It's a cow! It doesn't matter how she identifies, only females give milk!"

Pomni shrugged with a small apologetic gesture but continued to look at him with a glint in her eyes. "I just... wish things were different."

Kaufmo let out a bitter laugh and threw his hands up. "Wishes, wishes, always wishes! Believe me, I have many wishes too, Pomni. I wish you weren’t so silly, that this house wasn’t a mess, that the cow was overflowing with milk, that the walls were made of gold... Oh, believe me, my dear, I wish for a lot of things!"

He was really trying to deal with fatherhood.

Meanwhile, with the bakers...

Knock, knock, knock.

"I’m coming!" answered the king piece named Kinger, walking awkwardly and distractedly toward the door. However, when he opened it...

"There’s no one here," he said confused, looking both ways outside the door.

"Are you sure, dear?" asked the other chess piece, named Queenie, as she approached her husband. "Maybe it was the wind... or someone has already left."

Kinger frowned, perplexed. "Maybe, but something feels strange."

Just then, a strange figure appeared floating behind them, making them jump in surprise.

"Hello! I'm hungry! Do you have bread? Or maybe Angel Food Cake, please!" exclaimed a floating bubble, seeming to move at an uncontrollable speed. Its voice was a jumble of words, it wore a red hood that contrasted with its floating figure, and its gaze was unsettling, intense and fixed.

"What...?" Kinger took a step back, his eyes wide open, staring at the floating bubble that had appeared out of nowhere.

"Who are you? And what are you doing here?" asked Queenie, clearly puzzled and somewhat alarmed, as she watched the strange figure approach without warning.

"I'm Bubble, but that doesn't matter," the bubble quickly replied, bouncing a bit. "I just want bread! NOT FOR ME! It’s for my grandmother. She... needs bread, and also... Angel Food Cake! She really likes it! And if you don’t have that, that’s fine! Anything, I just want bread, bread, please, for my grandmother. It’s important."

Kinger and Queenie exchanged a glance of utter disbelief, unsure of what to do or how to react to the unexpected appearance of this floating figure with a red hood speaking at full speed. Without a doubt, this day was stranger than ever.

On the other side, with the doll...

"I’m done! I’m done!" Ragatha cheerfully informed her stepmother and stepsisters.

Her stepsisters barely paid attention, but her stepmother, with her typical cold and mocking gaze, slowly walked over to inspect the doll's work.

"I’m not convinced," she said after a few seconds. "You’ll have to do something else if you want to go to the King’s festival."

Ragatha, with her face glowing with excitement, frowned, confused. "But what else could I do? I’ve finished everything..."

"Hmmm..." The stepmother thought for a moment, and after a few seconds, shouted, "Meeting!"

Hearing this, the stepsisters quickly gathered, forming a circle around the stepmother. They began to murmur among themselves, whispering and glancing at Ragatha with malicious smiles.

Ragatha, nervous, watched how they conspired in low voices. She could hear fragments of their conversation, words like "something difficult," "stay here," "an excuse," but she couldn’t understand what they were planning.

Finally, the stepmother raised her hand, and with an expression of superiority, turned toward Ragatha.

"Perfect," she said as she lifted a large jar full of lentils. With a quick movement, she dumped them onto the fireplace, letting the lentils scatter across the ashes.

"Now," she continued mockingly, "you’re going to pick up all these lentils before we finish getting ready for the ball. If you do, then you can go to the King’s festival."

Ragatha looked at the mess before her, and her face slowly sank into despair as she saw the lentils scattered everywhere.

"What are you waiting for, doll? If you don’t finish on time, you’re not going anywhere."

The stepsisters laughed among themselves as they headed to the other side of the house, leaving Ragatha with her daunting task.

Ragatha bent down, picking up the lentils one by one, feeling her frustration grow with every passing second. The minutes seemed endless, and her hope of attending the King’s festival faded more and more. However, something inside her wouldn't let her give up.

She looked out the window, where a group of birds was singing joyfully. An idea sparkled in her mind, and with a determined sigh, she stood up. With her soft, melodic voice, she began to sing:

"Birds of the sky,

Birds of the rooftops,

Leaves, fields, castles, and ponds.

Come down, little birds,

Leave the rooftops and leaves,

Leave the fields, castles, and ponds."

She sang with her soul, as if her voice could reach the heart of the birds. It wasn’t the first time she’d spoken to them; she’d always had a special connection with them. The melody flowed like a river, clear and peaceful, hoping her plea would be heard.

At first, the birds watched her from the branches, confused. But little by little, one by one, they began to approach, first cautiously, then with more confidence.

"Little friends, with feathers and wings,

Help me with this strange task.

The lentils are too many,

I can't handle them all,

Come to my aid, don’t give me more hours.

Search among the ashes,

Peck quickly, sift the ashes,

And fill the jar."

Soon, Ragatha found herself surrounded by a chorus of small birds who, following her song, began pecking and gathering the lentils scattered on the ground.

With their agile and quick movements, the birds started gathering the lentils, bringing them in small piles to the jar. Ragatha, excited, smiled as she saw how her song had worked.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY "SELL IT"?!

Pomni's voice echoed through the cabin, causing Gummigoo, the cow, to lift her head from her corner where she was still eating straw. Kaufmo, for his part, was standing in front of her with his hands on his hips, looking at his daughter with an expression of extreme frustration.

"Yes, Pomni! Sell it," Kaufmo repeated, without losing his annoyed tone.

"But he’s the best cow," the jester lamented while hugging the cow.

"She was! SHE was the best cow!" Kaufmo raised his voice, annoyed. "But SHE has been dry for over a month, giving us nothing! Not a drop of milk!"

Pomni, with eyes shining with sadness, looked at Gummigoo, who was watching her peacefully. "But... he’s always been with us. Why does he have to leave now?"

"Because she’s useless, Pomni! We can't keep her here out of pity! If she doesn't give milk, it makes no sense to keep taking care of her. Someone else could make use of her, even if it's for meat or to take her somewhere else where they’ll take better care of her!"

Pomni remained silent, hugging Gummigoo, unsure of what to say.

"I can't believe you’re saying this!" she finally whispered, with a frustrated and sad voice. "He’s not just a cow, he’s my best friend in the whole world!"

"Look at her!" exclaimed Kaufmo. "She has ticks on her ribs, flies in her eyes, and a huge lump on her rear that looks more like a hump. There's no time left! She’s getting old. And besides! No one has a cow as a friend. Sometimes I fear for your mental health, daughter."

And back to the bakers who, unfortunately, were still dealing with the annoying bubble.

"Oh! And do you have any buns? I love those," said Bubble, floating closer to them.

The bakers, completely exhausted by the presence of the bubble, looked at each other. Bubble didn't seem to have any intention of leaving and kept asking for more bread.

"One is enough," he said, taking a bun from the bread basket. "Or maybe four or six."

"Hey, hey, hey," said Kinger, frowning. "How do you plan to pay for all this?"

Bubble pulled three copper coins from their pocket, shaking them in front of them with a big smile. "With this, will it be enough?"

Kinger looked at her in disbelief. "Three coins? Are you kidding?"

Queenie, already on the verge of despair, raised her hand for silence. "That will be enough, Kinger, let's not make a drama. Let he have the buns, we are not going to ruin our day for three coins."

Bubble, looking at Queenie with bright eyes, added: "And... since I'm at it, could you give me a basket to carry all this? I don't want the bread to fall on the way and leave my poor grandmother with nothing."

Queenie, with a tired smile, sighed deeply and handed over an empty basket. "Here, take it. Hey, do you know how to get to your grandmother's house? The forest can be a dangerous place."

Bubble, without stopping for a moment, replied: "Of course, of course, my grandmother's house... it's easy! I just have to follow the straight path, right? I never get lost."

"Well, don’t stop for strangers," said Queenie while helping Bubble pack the bread. "And try not to get there too late. I don't want your grandmother to get scared."

"And save some for her, okay?" added Kinger, looking at the big pile of bread Bubble had gathered. "Don’t eat it all yourself, alright?"

Bubble smiled widely. "Of course! She needs it more than me! Since sick people need to eat a lot, even though she is very old, who knows? She may already be dead by the time I get there." And with the basket filled to the brim, he turned around and floated toward the forest, without looking back.

The bakers stood there watching, very confused, as Bubble walked away. "It's finally gone," Queenie finally said, relieved.

Kinger crossed his arms and watched where Bubble had gone. "I really hope he gets lost in the woods."

And so began the strange and absolutely not ordinary day of these unique characters.

𓆸𓆱𓆸𓆱𓆸𓆱𓆸𓆱𓆸𓆱𓆸𓆱𓆸𓆱𓆸𓆱𓆸

This is a kind of AU I’m planning to write! I’ve been meaning to adapt one of my favorite musicals, Into the Woods, for a while now, but I only recently found the time to start. This could count as the first chapter, and I plan to upload the whole story on Ao3 later, and maybe here on Tumblr as well.

I had so much fun writing this, even though it was a bit exhausting. The first chapter literally only covers the first 6 or 7 minutes of the musical. At first, I was undecided about whether to write the story as a musical or something more like a fairy tale (without songs). In the end, I decided to leave out the songs because I’m new to writing and wasn’t entirely happy with my first attempts at making it a musical.

I’ll try not to make too many changes to the original story, but I did omit some details to better adapt it to the world and characters of TADC.

For those who have already seen the musical (or the movie), I hope you enjoy what I’m working on. And for those who haven’t seen it yet, you absolutely should—it’s amazing!

Lastly, I want to mention that English isn’t my first language, so I’m working on improving it. I apologize for any grammatical errors you might find. 😅😅😅

[enneamage]

i remember your really great essay on the fandom's tendency to hope ccs are queer due to, in part, the uneasy relationship between male streamers and women. now seeing wilbur's exploration into famously queer media (i have never met a dude into tyler the creator who was not bi unless he himself believed tyler wasn't queer), i was wondering, do you think male ccs in the community are aware that being bi makes them appear more safe towards women? i don't doubt anyone's sexuality btw

For starters, I think that Wilbur is throwing a bunch of spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks in terms of a new public persona. What you’re looking at is still an indie softboy variant, just spiced a bit differently. Art Guy and Bisexual can be related but as I said in the other post, sticking morality, sexuality and aesthetics together as a package deal is a quick way to be misled. The thing I want to linger on is the evolution of the idea of a softboy, which was actually a fandom-esque tumblr term that was a term of endearment to fictional / irl boys before it became an ironic nickname to call out a particular kind of wolf in sheep's clothing. I think that concept cycle happens a lot. 

In the straight sense, men do have a motivation to try to get women to like them. While some people are remarkably bad at this or have no clue how to achieve it, others are a bit better at following the trail of an appealing persona and trying to fit themselves into it. Some of it is a genuine self-image desire as well, you want to think of yourself as an appealing person even without an audience, so you take the temperature of the culture and try to follow the path that seems to work best for your desires and interests.

Softboy / golden retriever boyfriend / himbo and the like tends to come from the imagination of women online when collectively brainstorming what kind of person would be seen as a breath of fresh air in the current Dude Climate. The issue with it being translated IRL is that once it becomes clear that people really do find these tropes attractive, people want to lean into the strategy a bit either as an exaggeration of their own personalities or an active choice to Not Be Like Other Guys, inviting inevitable disappointment when they have the ups and downs of a real person with traits, or are revealed to be straight up frauds. 

In terms of leaning into persona or aesthetics aside from sexuality, I want to bump this post by someone on the mcyt snark reddit that takes a tour through personas that consistently appear and reappear in post-2020 MCYT circles. I think the people love a persona (or imago perhaps) and a package deal of traits, we tend to hand them out for free when we’re forming our impressions of people even if they don’t mean to create one. 

Wilbur in particular has a lot of reasons to try and dress himself up as ‘safe’ for the time being, but you asked about the bi swatch of MCYT and I think the answer to the safety part is unconsciously, yes. I think that having an aspect of their experience being removed from mainstream straight culture really does put them in a different headspace than straight peers, but whether that headspace is actually kinder and safer in practice isn’t guaranteed in the way that I think both parties might hope. They probably notice that people treat them better or differently when they lean into the mlm part of their identity, leading them to do it more over time.

Again, especially with CCS, I think a lot of people hope that the bisexuality will lead to a long term partnership with a man or that their attraction to women would be softened into something less hormonally or culturally straight. People actively leaning into post-2020 queer culture aesthetics (because we’re not talking leather bars here) may also seem more safe or appealing by breaking down the dyadic “let me define myself by being completely opposed to you” aspects of really rigid gender performance relationships. Ironically this may also make them seem more appealing as partners in the platonic and romantic sense because it feels less like you’re dealing with a rigid diametric opposite. You feel closer to them by being under the LGBTQ+ umbrella with them, which also adds some motivation to parasocial attachment. 

[eldritchpotato]

Mirrorbound 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5.

You noticed something strange when you awoke. Or… well returned to consciousness, it wasn’t normal sleep.

Firstly, you were outside, the early morning sun shining down and cold winter air rushed through the bare branches of the nearby trees.

The second thing you noticed was that you were cold, in fact, you weren’t much of anything. You were so little of anything that you only realized that when you noticed a familiar figure walking down the path close to you. It was you, or your body at least.

You weren’t even touching anything, just trailing behind your body like a balloon on a string.

Panic couldn’t really flood through you without a body but your circumstances were definitely concerning.

Something else was inhabiting your body, possessing you, you already had an idea who. She may have looked exactly like you but she moved differently, existed differently. There was something not quite right about the world either. It wasn’t until you spotted a rundown-lettered sign that you realized the world was inverted, you were in the reflection now.

A branch was in your path as you drifted after yourself, you scrambled to try and get out of the way. Levitation was not a method of movement you were remotely familiar with and it showed, thankfully you drifted through the branch harmlessly.

Was this her existence? Formless? You at least we're still tethered to your body. What would happen if you had nobody at all?

Forget that, what if she never gave you your body back? A bunch of freaky sex over one afternoon and evening didn’t really make you trust her enough to have total control of your meatsuit.

Except there wasn’t much you could do beyond awkwardly floating around. You had no lungs with which to speak, no body with which to touch the world. As the seconds ticked into minutes and you just kept following your possessed body on a walk around your grandparent's farm it only further sunk in just how fucked you were.

On the bright side, it seemed a body was required to have a panic attack.

You watched your body slow down, and pull something from your pocket. You watched… her slow down and pull something from her pocket.

She held up the small mirror, moving it about… to look for you. You met her gaze through the mirror, staring into your own eyes that had never been more foreign.

“Morning,” she said to you. 

You mouthed it back, she had your voice at the moment. 

“I’m Mary, which I realized might have caused a mix-up,” she added thoughtfully. “Sorry to butt in, but I couldn’t waste the opportunity after so long.”

Well, she could have been… far more outright evil. Actually, despite how you knew she looked under your own skin, she seemed… rather normal.

“Do you want to do something naughty?” Mary asked with a smirk.

Despite your reservations, that was not the kind of offer you ever really turned down. Sure you would get on her good side and yada yada but also… well, who didn’t like being naughty now and again?

You nodded.

Mary looked around before heading toward a nearby shed. She didn't go in, simply ducked behind it out of sight as she pulled her pants down.

You couldn't help but be a little worried as you also looked around. If Mary was found it was you who would take the fall, not that anyone would have been out and about so early. But still… in the open, it was hard not to feel watched.

Mary was wearing the one pair of lacy underwear you had brought. You were soaked… or she was soaked. You floated closer, fascinated by your body’s pleasure from this point of view.

“It’s so good to have a cunt again,” Mary sighed, her warm breath leaving a trail of vapour as she played with herself.

You didn’t feel aroused, you didnt have a body to interoperate that desire but you certainly didn’t want to be left out. Mary held up the mirror, finding you again. “We’ve switched places, you can touch me you know.”

Oh fuck yeah. You floated closer, reaching out to touch your own jacket. You had no body to feel the jacket but you could still have an effect on it. The result but without the process.

You pulled yourself closer, taking your time. It wasn't perfect but you had wanted this… kind of. Mary was still watching you as she fucked herself with your fingers.

Placing your hand on the back of her neck you gently pulled her into a kiss. You couldn't taste your own lips but you could imagine. You knew your own body well enough to know what to do even from this position.