#Gray is such an artistic person in nature

[icemde]

ICE MAKER MAGIC & GRAY'S STYLE

MAKER MAGIC IS KNOWN FOR ITS CREATIVITY AND FREEDOM. In terms of magics its one of the most versatile ones out there, with the only real limits being the caster's imagination and their magic power. With it's ability to range from static every day items to gigantic, life like creations, and to be based in almost any element imaginable, it's easy to see the appeal of such a kind of magic.

WHILE ITS THE MOST PREVALENT TYPE WE SEE IN THE SERIES, ICE MAKER MAGIC ISN'T ALL THAT COMMON. Most maker magics tend to focus on more solid and sustainable elements, such as wood or iron, mainly due to their more practical uses in daily life. The only Ice Make users we see in the series all have connection to the same person: Ur, be it as blood relation or being her student, which is why the canon has a larger population of Ice Make users than other types of Maker Magics. However, in terms of the world at large, it's not very commonly seen, and is often associated with the northern kingdoms, due to their colder climates. When Gray had first arrived in to Fairy Tail, many of the older mages were fascinated by the mere idea of an ice based maker magic, and most of them pieced together themselves where Gray had originally called home.

FOR A MAGIC SO ROOTED IN CREATIVITY, A STYLE LIKE GRAY'S IS ALMOST CONFUSING, ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING WHO HE LEARNED FROM. Ur had an unparalleled mastery of the craft, and was able to create truly breathtaking spells with such ease, all seeming to fall under her botanical motif. Her ability to make devastating attacks look like the most gentle aspects of nature was truly awe inspiring, and she encouraged her students to find their own styles. Lyon took this and perfected the animated style, leaning more towards animals. He had also taken to an aspect of nature, embracing the creatures that roamed it and honed that as his art. But Gray? Gray had been very practical with what he created. There was no influence of nature, no creative spin, instead rather cut and dry with what he wanted. Even other Maker Magic users such as Laki have a creative spin to their magic, but not Gray. Ever blunt as to what he wants his magic to make and what it should be, leaving very little room for a creative spin or alteration on it. His very straight forward take is due to his reason for learning the magic in the first place.

GRAY LEARNED MAKER MAGIC FOR ONE REASON AND ONE REASON ONLY. COMBAT. Gray had become Ur's student solely for the purpose of fighting Deliora and avenging his family, and thus only ever saw the magic as a tool. In his youth, Gray never truly allowed himself to see the beauty in his magic, the freedom it possessed, instead only seeing it as a means to an end. As he learned, he was very cut and dry with what he wanted, because he didn't believe he had the time to add the flourishes and uniqueness typically carried by those who use the magic. This was a tool and nothing more, so what he created would reflect that. While Lyon would summon a swarm of birds, Gray would go the more practical route and fire off arrows or spears. When Ur would create a beautiful rose bloom to protect herself, Gray would skip straight to its purpose, a simple shield instead. Gray had refused to let him personality and self thrive through his magic when he was learning it, far too wrapped up in his desire for revenge and the grief that haunted him that the prospect of truly making his magic his own was something that never crossed his mind. It wouldn't be til almost a decade later, after facing his past head on and coming out the other end mostly unscathed would Gray begin to let his magic begin to reflect himself. Instead of the most basic forms of what he needed, the weapons he would create would start to be more intricate and details. What use to be plain blades would now be much more intricate, but equally as deadly. His basic bows would now be adorned with decorative aspects, in no means interfering with their purpose, but displaying an elegance equal to their strength. It was a subtle change, something most people would miss, but for those who knew the Ice Mage, they could see his true colors finally shining through with each spell he cast.

[kjzx]

One day there's gonna be a person online that will take people's requests of any color and draw it in a person's skintone in a convincing way, see: a brown that looks like a light skinned white person's skin in a darker lighting, a green that looks like a healthy person's skin in neon lights, and so on.

And this will be a huge thing for the online art community in the west. I think the thing it lacks right now is this realization that the knowledge that tree trunks are brown and leaves are green are just something observed under the specific conditions of a sunny day, even in these very conditions these very leaves and trunk can look blue and purple and gray and so on if cast in shadow, especially in art

[gelus-ugs]

Hi !! I don’t know if you’re taking requests rn, sorry in advance if you aren’t ^_^

Could you do hcs of Hashiras if you try to flirt with them, but you’re an awkward, shy type of person? (+they like you back)

When you try to flirt with the Hashira

��——————————————————————

Shy/Awkward reader

Prompt: You had been crushing on ___ the moment you became a Hashira, the feeling only growing deeper the more you got to know them. A friend you had met through the Demon Slayer Corps caught onto this and encouraged you to say something, giving you countless ideas. You eventually gave in, deciding to go with a pickup line they recommended. Why? Hell if you knew, but it was worth a try..right?

———————————————————————

Gyomei Himejima

“You must be a hell of a thief, because you managed to steal my heart the moment I met you”

Gyomei blinked in utter confusion

Were you flirting with him?

Gyomei turned to you - and although he couldn’t see, he could practically feel the embarrassment and regret coming from you

Gyomei smiled, taking your hand and kissing the back of it

“Well, I have no intentions of giving it back”

Sanemi Shinazugawa

“I was wondering if you’re an artist because you’re so good at drawing me in”

Sanemi froze, turning to face you in disbelief

There’s no way someone like you was openly flirting

You immediately apologized, quickly turning on your heel and leaving

You got two steps in before Sanemi grabbed your wrist, turning you around and pulling you back

The two of you were suddenly close, Sanemi’s breath fanning over your neck

“Where are you going? I haven’t signed my artwork yet”

Obanai Iguro

“Do you have a map? I just got lost in your eyes”

Obanai turned to face you with wide eyes

Due to their difference in color, Obanai’s eyes were an insecurity of his

His face began to turn red as he hid behind his hand

“Thank you…your eyes are beautiful, too”

Mitsuri Kanroji

“When I look in your eyes, I see a very kind soul”

Mitsuri squealed

She knew that it was out of your nature to flirt, and she saw how you were a tad bit uncomfortable, so she found you downright adorable

Mitsuri immediately pulled you into a hug, continuously squealing about how cute you were

You won over her heart

Kyōjurō Rengoku

“No wonder the sky is gray, all the color is in your eyes”

Rengoku stared at you with wide eyes, surprised that you were openly flirting

Being his usual self - Rengoku began to laugh

You took it the wrong way and immediately began to regret what you said, wishing that the ground would swallow you whole

Rengoku noticed your shift in mood and paused his laughter, placing his hand on your shoulder

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I wasn’t making fun of you, I was laughing because you were so adorable”

Rengoku gently kissed your cheek, pulling away and smiling at you,

“I’m afraid that you’re the one with the color in your eyes”

Muichiro Tokito

“There must be something wrong with my eyes - I can’t seem to take them off of you”

Muichiro blankly stared at you, trying to process what you had said

You began to fidget with your fingers, feeling as if Muichiro didn’t like what you said

After a moment of silence, Muichiro grabbed your hand and smiled,

“Who says you have to take them off of me?”

Shinobu Kocho

“Do you happen to have a Band-Aid? I scraped my knees falling for you”

Shinobu automatically began to reach for a band-aid before she paused, realizing that you were flirting with her

She turned to face you, gently smiling

“Well then, looks like we’re going to have to kiss those scrapes better, huh?”

Tengen Uzui

“So, aside from taking my breath away, what do you do for a living?”

Tengen immediately turned to face you, his jaw agape

“Are you flirting with me?!”

Intimidated by his loudness, you slowly nodded as you avoided eye contact

Tengen placed a finger under your chin and tilted your head up,

“I like it, how flashy. And, to answer your question…”

Tengen leaned in closer, his breath tickling your ear,

“It looks like I’m doing you for a living”

Giyu Tomioka

“Your eyes are like the ocean; I could swim in them all day”

Giyu blinked in confusion as he stared at you for a few minutes

“Were you…flirting with me?”

You began to feel embarrassed as you shyly nodded

“Well, if it were you…”

Giyu paused, kissing your forehead,

“I’d let you swim in my eyes forever”

[fataldrum]

Dorian Gray is queer art, period.

Apparently Netflix has decided to make an adaption of The Picture of Dorian Gray with Dorian and Basil as siblings. Unless they're planning to go the gothic horror incest route, they've completely missed the point of the relationship between these characters.

If you haven't read the book, Basil is a painter who becomes infatuated with a beautiful young man, pouring his feelings into a painting. Dorian becomes jealous of the painting's beauty, realizing that he will never be as young and unspoiled as the version of himself on the canvas. He finds himself wishing that the painting could age instead of him. His wish is granted, allowing him to stay young and beautiful until the end, with his moral and spiritual decline reflected only in the painting.

I cannot overstate how queer this book is. Dorian is so beautiful that their first meeting inspires a wave of existential terror in Basil. Dorian changes Basil's entire understanding of art and beauty. This book is so queer it was used as evidence at Wilde's sodomy trial.

The existence of the portrait itself is tantamount to a confession of queer desire. Basil tells his friend, Lord Henry, that he can't exhibit the painting because "I have put too much of myself into it.”

Lord Henry (who will later lead Dorian into a life of vice) laughs, but Basil explains:

“[E]very portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter. [...] It is not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on the coloured canvas, reveals himself. The reason I will not exhibit this picture is that I am afraid that I have shown in it the secret of my own soul.”

This is how he describes meeting Dorian:

When our eyes met, I felt that I was growing pale. A curious sensation of terror came over me. I knew that I had come face to face with some one whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if I allowed it to do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself. [...] I have always been my own master; had at least always been so, till I met Dorian Gray. Then—but I don’t know how to explain it to you. Something seemed to tell me that I was on the verge of a terrible crisis in my life. I had a strange feeling that fate had in store for me exquisite joys and exquisite sorrows. I grew afraid and turned to quit the room. It was not conscience that made me do so: it was a sort of cowardice. I take no credit to myself for trying to escape.”

Notice that turn of phrase--it was not conscience but cowardice that made him attempt to flee. Why would conscience factor into his decision? Because he felt shame at his reaction to Dorian's perfect, beautiful face.

Lord Henry is shocked to discover Basil cares for something besides his art.

“He is all my art to me now,” said the painter gravely. “I sometimes think, Harry, that there are only two eras of any importance in the world’s history. The first is the appearance of a new medium for art, and the second is the appearance of a new personality for art also. What the invention of oil-painting was to the Venetians, the face of Antinous was to late Greek sculpture, and the face of Dorian Gray will some day be to me.

Basil goes on to confess, "I see everything in him. He is never more present in my work than when no image of him is there."

Lord Henry still doesn't understand why there is too much of Basil in the painting, so Basil explains:

“Because, without intending it, I have put into it some expression of all this curious artistic idolatry, of which, of course, I have never cared to speak to him. He knows nothing about it. He shall never know anything about it. But the world might guess it, and I will not bare my soul to their shallow prying eyes. My heart shall never be put under their microscope. There is too much of myself in the thing, Harry—too much of myself!”

Lord Henry asks how Dorian feels about Basil, and his response is absolutely tragic.

The painter considered for a few moments. “He likes me,” he answered after a pause; “I know he likes me. Of course I flatter him dreadfully. I find a strange pleasure in saying things to him that I know I shall be sorry for having said. As a rule, he is charming to me, and we sit in the studio and talk of a thousand things. Now and then, however, he is horribly thoughtless, and seems to take a real delight in giving me pain. Then I feel, Harry, that I have given away my whole soul to some one who treats it as if it were a flower to put in his coat, a bit of decoration to charm his vanity, an ornament for a summer’s day.”

Any adaptation that ignores the way Dorian's existence and beauty utterly destroyed Basil is doomed to be shallow and insipid. This is not just a book about a magic painting. It's a monument to queer longing.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 1: You Shouldn't Have Answered The Door

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter one of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (once or twice), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2

Present Day

Your head rests against your forearms on your desk, jerking upwards as a loud rhythmic knocking assaults the front door of your apartment.

What?

You think to yourself, rubbing your face with your hands. Your sketchpad was laid open on your desk beneath your head, the rough sketch of an egret bowing its head along the bank of a small pond splayed over the page in shades of gray. It would be the first in your new series of nature paintings that you would be unveiling in a month.

At least I didn't poke my eye out with the pencil. You think eyeing the sharpened point of the pencil that was dangerously close to your face a few seconds ago.

You turn your wrist to glance at your watch and note the time. It was an antique, square faced and strung on a simple black band, a reminder of a past life that you couldn't bear to part with.

Who would come see me at 8:00 am on a Monday?

For a minute you try to remember if you'd received a call from the curator of the gallery downtown, or if there had been a meeting or a lunch with your agent to discuss your next installment of work, but nothing comes to mind.

When you officially retired from being a hero you decided to become a full time artist, a hobby you had since you were a child. You hadn't expected it explode. You had enough money from your heroing career to live several lifetimes, not unwelcome given the fact that you couldn't die, not in the traditional sense at least, so art was supposed to just be a way for you to off steam. But you were happy with your life now, a lot happier than you had been when you were a hero on Payback. The thought of your previous employment with Vought sours in your mouth followed by the unavoidable thought of Ben that you push down with a well practiced sigh.

You didn't feel like reliving all that over again right now, though you knew it would probably happen later. It came in waves, especially at night when you found it difficult to sleep, the melatonin wasn't working, and all you really wanted was a hard drink.

Sobriety sucked.

The knocking persists, rattling around in your head like a bee trying to get out of a plastic cup.

"Fine. I'm coming." You shout standing up from your desk and making your way from the wall that serves as your studio towards the front door of your apartment, while trying to rub away the line the page made on your cheek.

Your apartment was the one extravagance you allowed yourself. Despite the amount of money you had, flashing it had never been a priority even in your hero days. The apartment was open concept with exposed brick walls, tall North facing windows that angled away from the inside and jutted outward over a raised wooden floored area that served as your studio. A large modern kitchen sat just to the right of the front door with stainless steel appliances, on another wall a tv hung above a leather couch and held a dark hallway that lead to your bedroom and the guest bedroom, the other walls were covered in your work, and the final wall held several bookshelves with art supplies and your vinyl record collection. A collection you started forever ago and that continued to grow with each passing year.

Need to get another bookshelf. You note looking at the limited space that remained.

You look through the peep hole in the solid metal apartment door. A tall dark haired man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a black duster and a thin younger guy with brown curly hair stare back at you.

"I don't want to buy any girl scout cookies." You shout through the heavy metal of the door.

The younger guy snorts.

"y/f/n y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

At the mention of Ben's hero name you pause. You had avoided thinking about your former best friend as much as possible over the past forty years. Your relationship with Ben was complicated, the final few days you spent together even more complicated than the early years.

It hurt to compare what your life with him was like before you both became supes to the life you had together after. You had grown up together, forced into close proximity because your parents were friends and then became best friends yourselves. You stayed friends, before you both got injected with Compound V and a few years later moved on to Payback together. You were the only person able to keep Ben in check and as violent as his temper was, he didn't like to cross you. You were the only person who knew the real him, had been with him longer than anyone else. Not that he ever admitted that to you or admitted that he cared about you, but you thought somewhere deep down that he had to, felt at least something for you.

That was the problem. You were in love with him, cared deeply about him, cared more about him than anyone else you'd ever had in your life. On the night you finally slept together you were happy, you thought he felt the same way, and then the next day at his premiere you found him in the bathroom with Countess bent over a sink. The fight that followed had been your resignation from Payback and also the reason why you weren't there when Ben died.

Your jaw clenches together at the memory, followed by guilt. You were always there for him, you had his back just as he had yours, but the one time you hadn't been there-

You open the door to look at them. "The singer?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The artist? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua. Both of you were standing in your supe suits, your own was a sleeveless black one piece suit with purple embellishments that traced from the sides of your ankles and stretched up under your armpits, while a dark hood covered your head and a black mask hid the bottom of your face. You always thought you looked more like a supervillain in it, but you were thankful that it hid your identity. It was so long ago, but you still remember that night clearly. The ridiculous movie, the afterparty where everyone was so tipsy and the smell of alcohol burned against your nose, and finally when you went to the bathroom and found Ben and Countess together, the immeasurable rage followed by heartbreak that you felt when you saw them.  Not to mention the fight that followed when Ben trampled all over your heart and stated that you meant nothing to him.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo? I mean y’all can come in if you want-“ You open the door wider, understanding that they won't leave, before you begin to move towards the kitchen. “I apologize in advance. I’m not quite myself, I was up late working.” You pause halfway into the kitchen. “I’m going to make some coffee, you guys want some?” You eye the man in the black coat. "Or tea?"

“Coffee is fine."

You find the coffee filters and shuffle through the cupboards to find a bag of coffee, still trying to wake up. Staying up late wasn't unusual for you. You tended to find the urge to create in the wee hours of the morning, not to mention everything that happened in the past kept you up.

You open the bag of coffee to smell the grounds, thinking that it will wake you up, but as soon as you do the smell of Agent Butcher and Agent Campbell washes over you.

You could smell the compound V in their veins pumping through their bodies with every beat of their hearts.

So, they're supes. You think to yourself, pouring the grounds into the coffeemaker. Which means they probably aren't from the CIA.

Despite the realization, you weren't worried. Your particular ability was a well-kept secret, a secret that only Ben knew despite you being on Payback. Stan Edgar and the others had believed that "Indigo," the hero name assigned to you, had enhanced strength and senses, but it was more than that. You had an ability that, if brought to the public, would probably land you in a government facility. Laying low had it's perks, your freedom was one of them.

You watch them begin to walk around your living room examining the artifacts of your new life, the one you crafted when everything fell apart. There wasn't anything in the living room to arouse suspicion that you were the original Indigo. The only remnants of your past life that remained were in a wooden trunk at the back of your walk in closet, hidden behind a collection of paint splattered overalls almost identical to the pair you were wearing right now.

"You've got a nice place." The younger guy says looking around.

"Thanks. It's rent controlled. I got lucky-" You fiddle with the coffeemaker to buy yourself some time.

Why were they here to ask me about Ben? It had been 40 years, hardly seems relevant now. And why were they pretending to be CIA?

"You're an artist?" Agent Butcher asks, staring at the canvas sitting on an easel by your desk. It was a collection of multicolored dark greens that swirled together, flecked with pieces of gold that shone in the brilliant sunlight from the wall of windows where your studio was.

"Yeah. And I tend to paint my best at night. Hence the coffee" You turn, placing your hands on the island to face the two men.

“You’re really good.” Agent Campbell says examining some of the canvases on the wall.

“Thanks.”

“So your mum eh?” Agent Butcher turns to look at you. You note the smirk on his face and incredulous raising of his brow.

He doesn't believe me. Hard not to. I don't age.

“Yes?” You raise an eyebrow to challenge him

“You look a lot like her.”

“Thanks. I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere.” You look from Butcher to the younger guy who has moved on to look at your vinyl collection. "And I'm pretty sure that most kids look like their parents. But I'm not a geneticist."

"NO WAY! You have a signed copy of Billy Joel's Glass House!" Agent Campbell shouts holding up the vinyl cover in awe.

"Yeah." You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm.

"How did you-“

"Hughie." Agent Butcher sighs.

The younger guy now identified as Hughie puts the record back with a frown, before turning back to the collection.

“But you have the same name.” Agent Butcher's eyes flit to yours.

“She named me after herself. I’m sure the CIA can locate my birth certificate."

“Right.” Agent Butcher smiles, but it’s tight lipped.

You stand there for another minute looking from Agent Butcher to Hughie, trying to think of why they're here. "So what do you want to know?”

“Well is your mum around-“

You allow your shoulders to droop and take in a shaky breath. "She died about a year ago. Cancer."

They weren't the first to come here and accuse you of being Indigo. Legend and you had come up with the farce to protect you, help you start over, but you hadn't wanted to part with your name. So other precautions were put in place: a funeral plot was purchased and a death certificate was issued as was a fake passport, I.D, and birth certificate that made you thirty two rather than over one hundred.

“Really? I thought Indigo-“ It’s enough to make Hughie turn around and look at you.

“Don’t read everything Vought says." You interrupt. "That experimental shit they put in her veins may have made her powerful, but it couldn’t protect her from that.” You sigh again to sell the lie, before turning to the coffee maker, to pour them and yourself a cup. "There should be some milk in there, sugar's in the bowl." You gesture to the refrigerator and the small blown glass sugar bowl on the counter next to the coffee maker.

Hughie moves into the kitchen to pour himself a cup, but Agent Butcher continues to eye you suspiciously.

“It wasn’t in the news.” He grunts.

“They covered it up pretty well. I mean do you blame them? One of the first supes gets killed by something like cancer. Can’t be good for Vought given they pride themselves on showcasing unstoppable heroes. I mean can you imagine if Homelander or Queen Maeve died of something like cancer? Doesn’t look good.” You shrug your shoulders and take a sip from the coffee in your hands. “What did you want to talk to her about?”

“Soldier Boy.” Butcher moves to the coffeemaker and it takes a strong amount of willpower to stop the urge to turn towards him, but you know that you need to act indifferent.

“Did she talk to you at all about him?” Hughie moves to one of the bar stools on the opposite side of the island with his coffee in front of him.

“Yeah.” You look down at the mug with a sigh, rolling the warm glass between your hands. “He really did a number on her. Plus towards the end she started seeing him everywhere."

The emotion that you summon is not fake. You allow a small amount to trickle over the dam you built to protect yourself from falling back into the pit you fell into when Ben broke your heart and then died. When you broke every piece of glass in your apartment and threw your couch through the wall.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Hughie looks sincere when he says it.

Why is someone like him hanging out with this guy? You think to yourself eyeing Agent Butcher again.

“It’s been hard. But I took care of her, sometimes it was only me. It’s kind of hard to restrain an 103 year old with super strength.” You smile to yourself at the joke.

“So you’re a supe?” Hughie takes a sip from his coffee mug.

“No I was just able to talk her down. Guess that first batch of Compound V doesn’t work the same way. Never transferred. Plus my dad wasn’t a supe so maybe it just diluted.” You shrug, the lies weaving easily through the air. 

“But she did talk to you about him?” Agent Butcher presses. He's leaning against the counter to your left.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I mean what do you want to hear? There’s a lot.” The mug sends a pleasant warmth through your hands as you hold it, but does little to stop the chill of the past from creeping up your spine.

“Start at the beginning.”

“Well.” You take another sip of coffee. “I don’t know details-details but- I just know that she grew up with him, they were from the same neighborhood in Philadelphia.  All that shit they made up about Soldier Boy being from a poor family was just propaganda. His dad owned half the steel mills in the state of Pennsylvania. Used to invest in property with my grandfather. Soldier Boy and my mom were friends. When he got the Compound V shot, she did too. They were looking for female and male volunteers. I think he asked her to? Or-“ You shrug your shoulders to push away the memory of the day Ben told you about the experiments. When he told you he was finally going to make something of himself and convinced you to go with him.

“They were dating?” Agent Butcher asks.

The question makes you pause. It was difficult to think about that, difficult to relive the memories of Ben continuing to push you away and his final refusal to admit he loved you. Ben never did say that to you. You had been through so much together, so many years as friends and then after the night you finally were together he threw you away like you meant nothing.

“No, but he really hurt her-“ You avoid their gaze.

“What did he do?” Hughie asks leaning forward on the counter.

“They had been through a lot together and I think when their friendship began to transfer to relationship he pushed her away. My mother said something about him refusing to admit he loved her. I think the last straw when she caught him with Countess.”

“Do you know anything about how he died?”

The memory of the phone call strikes you in the chest, when Stan Edgar himself called to tell you Ben was dead. When the darkness swallowed you whole and all you felt was guilt and heart break over the fight you had and how you left him alone when he needed you most.

“It hurt my mother a lot. Broke her. She never really got over him, no one was good enough, not even my dad. She drove him away too and then it was just us.”

“Was she there when Soldier Boy died?” Hughie spins the coffee mug in his hands.

“No. She left Payback  before that mission. It was right after she caught Countess and him together.” You force a shrug. “I think she regretted not being there. She was almost as indestructible as him, but I think she felt worse because they had a big fight right before.”

“So she didn’t know about Nicaragua or the thing that killed him?” Agent Butcher raises an eyebrow.

You cock your head to the side feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Soldier Boy got vaporized in a nuclear explosion.”

“Well I think we’ve wasted enough of your time.”

They get up to leave.

“Wait-“

 Agent Butcher turns to look at you. 

“Why are you asking me about him? It's been what? Forty years since he died-"

"That's classified love. Thank you for your time."

You watch them leave, but listen to them as they walk down the hallway.

“So do you believe her?” Hughie’s voice echoes in your ears.

“Not a bit. Maybe we trail her for a day. See if she really is an artist." Agent Butcher grunts. "At least until we go to Russia."

Russia? Why would they go to Russia?

You stand there for a second, holding the coffee mug in your hands. As you do the memories of the past 90 years wash across your mind, breaking through the damn that you built to protect yourself.

You were friends for years. You loved him since the moment you met. There were good times before the serum and then the bad, when he got famous and you were there to keep him in check. Sure you may have annoyed him, but he liked that about you, that you were able to bring him back from the edge. The day you finally had sex you remembered it, it was special, or you thought it was. You were excited that finally he loved you as much as you loved him. But then it all fell apart. That fight hadn’t been pretty. When you left him you felt yourself begin to slip, you didn’t eat or drink for days and when you finally got the phone call you thought it was him trying to apologize, but it was Stan.

You think again about Russia and finally your mind drifts to Countess.

She was the one that said that the Russians killed Ben, she saw it happen, saw his body get taken away-

Your jaw clenches together in anger and frustration as you remember the last time you saw her, when she taunted you and you almost ripped off her head. You never heard it directly from her that Ben was dead, only heard it from Stan. Of course the ridiculous funeral for Ben that you were expected to go to would mean that you saw her, but you hadn't gone, didn't want to keep up the charade. Instead you went to Philadelphia and walked the streets aimlessly with a bottle of whiskey in your hand, remembering what it was like when you were kids. Sometimes you think it all would have been different if you never got the injection, if you said no when he showed up in your bedroom and asked you to come with him. He was your oldest friend. The only real person you'd ever loved or cared about. The memory of the fight rings in your ears but you push it down.

You think again about Countess.  She was the reason why Ben and you had the fight. The reason you weren't there in Nicaragua. Regret spikes in your chest. You should have been there that day, should have tried to save him. You always had each others backs and the one time you weren't there he died.

Maybe it was time to pay her a visit.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373

[tbzhub]

Money Shot

Pairing: photographer!Lee Hyunjae x afab!reader

Summary: a night in with your boyfriend turns into a photoshoot

Warnings: MDNI, smut, marking, fingering, unprotected sex, lots of photos are taken, pet names like twice

Rating / Genre: M, established relationship au, some fluff, smut

WC: 3.6K

Artist Note: this is a little part 2 to this fic: just go fuck him ♥︎ thank you for the love on that story, i'm sorry the title is so misleading alvjbhvxzgfn. i figured i'd revisit these two!

Tagged: @deoboyznet @everykebbie @blizzardfluffykpop

psst i finished it @the-boy-meets-evil

m.list tag list

It’s a wonder how much a person can change in a year or two. 

These days your chest doesn't feel as tight. Your thoughts aren’t as intrusive and insecurity visits you infrequently. The smiles that grace your lips are genuine– often prompted by the joy that's found its way into the tight confines of your heart. 

With each passing day, came a further understanding of what it meant to live. To experience the world with an abundance of love intertwined with your being. 

Hyunjae wouldn’t agree, but he made all the difference. You are far more vibrant now; confident, social, witty. Being deeply in love brought out a version of yourself that was content and yet utterly fearless. 

There’s peace, both in knowing someone has seen the harshest parts of you and that they still love you just the same. 

Hyunjae gave you the space to be yourself– to show up however you were able to on any given day. With you, he was gentle and understanding in a way that’s reserved for people who care. 

Dating him meant never having doubt– not when he made every day feel like a gift. It was easy to smile with him around. He was funny without trying and hilarious in times when laughter was needed most. His spontaneity took some getting used to, but only because you were a homebody. Now, you look forward to the days you spend with him, enamored by Hyunjae’s innate ability to make every moment memorable. He saw the world in a way that left you inspired. Through his photography, he taught you that beauty was found in the most unlikely places.  Like at a run-down flea market during sunset, or while walking past a vacant flower stand on a late night– the florist long gone after an honest day’s work. Overexposed shots of your hair dancing in the wind as you slump in front of a fan, trying to survive in the summer heat. 

He was always taking pictures of you. Initially– you hated it. You’d go shy or tense up when you saw him bring out a camera, on high alert when he brought out his phone. But over time, you appreciated it. Being his muse– being able to see yourself the way he saw you– helped you in areas that you hadn't realized needed assistance. Through your days in front of the lens, you've learned that you have a brilliant smile. That your hair harbored a different tone in the wake of a setting sun. Sometimes you’d catch yourself anticipating the camera on days when you knew you looked your best, growing confident as more time passed with him by your side.

Now, more than anything else– you both are beyond comfortable and obsessed with one another. Your ears perk up when you hear the bedroom door creak open and the way you immediately step out of the bathroom to greet Hyunjae with a face covered in skin care products proves the aforementioned sentiment.

Coming over to kiss him sweetly, you briefly melt into his firm arms and as you lean back you swipe your thumb over the gray dot of mud mask that sticks to his nose with a chuckle.

“Aww…” Hyunjae coos, taking in your spa headband and the little strip across your nose. 

“No…” you groan, shielding your face away from him and his predictable nature.

“But you look so cute, right now.” He whines, peeking from behind the camera while his fingers hover over the button.

“No, I don’t. I look like the moon emoji” you mumble back.

“What do you mean? Hyunjae asks, looking at you with a clueless squint.

“You know, the one that’s like…”  you give a side glance to look more like the little gray icon.

There’s a small flash of light as the shutter clicks and Hyunjae chuckles as he looks at the tiny screen while you stand stunned that he tricked you so easily. You playfully push him in response, causing him to laugh harder and you can’t help but join him, finding his antics funny. 

You kiss him on the cheek before heading towards the bathroom. 

“I’ll be right back.” You announce with your back turned. “Don’t miss me too much,” Hyujnae calls out absentmindedly, eyes fixed on the camera in his hands and you smile at the remark as you walk onto the cool tile floor.

You come back to him with a washed face and a silly smile embossed into your pretty features. Bounding onto the bed, you allow Hyunjae to tug you into his arms. He peppers you with kisses, lips smacking against yours a couple of times until he’s pulled a wide smile and a few giggles out of you. 

“Wait– stay right there,” he says and you groan but your smile only grows wider.

“Don’t you get tired of taking pictures of me?” You ask, looking him over in amusement as you honor his instructions, holding your current angle. “Nope,” he replies, twisting in his spot to grab his polaroid camera. “Maybe when you have a hot girlfriend, you’ll understand.” He jokes, sending you a flirtatious look over the top of the camera while his finger turns the camera on with muscle memory.

Your laugh is accompanied by the roll of your eyes. Hyunjae presses the shutter and you ready yourself for the flash, relaxing thereafter as the camera goes to work.

The whirring of the film getting developed halts your joking, Hyunjae carefully plucks the film out and shakes it in his hand gently once it pops out of the top of the camera.

Falling further into the comfort of his pillows, you smile up at Hyunjae, observing the way he looks at the picture. His eyes were soft as he swept over the image, the arches of his cheeks raising slowly as a smile blossomed on his lips. For whatever reason the sight struck a chord within you.

“You really think I’m beautiful, don't you?” You voice the thought without realizing it, not until Hyunjae’s gaze shifts to you and you're taking in the sincerity in his eyes as he speaks. 

“Of course.”

He doesn’t say anything else and you didn't need him to. Not when he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists in the world. The only thing worth gazing upon. His hand trails its way into your hair and you look into the lens again, relaxing under Hyunjae’s touch as the shutter clicks again. You shift slightly on the bed as Hyunjae inspects the second polaroid the same way as he did the first. He puts the two pictures on the nightstand for safekeeping before leaning down to kiss you on the lips. 

With your arms looped around Hyunjae’s neck, you steal more kisses off his lips until he drops the camera onto the bed and climbs on top of you. The kiss deepens as one of his hands roams down to grab at your waist and pulls your body closer to his while he props himself up to keep from crushing you with the other. He lingers on your lips, pressure changing from soft and teasing to hard and wanting once you wrap your leg around his hip.

You stay like that long enough for your heart to mimic the rapid thud of Hyunjae’s heart rate.

When Hyunjae pulls away from the kiss you’re left wanting more, grabbing at his shirt in an attempt to bring him back but you stop when you notice what he’s doing.

He hovers above you with a polaroid camera in hand. “Just one more. Your lips look perfect,’ he murmurs as he lines up the shot and you lick your kiss bruised lips before giving bedroom eyes to Hyunjae through the lens. You hear the sound of the camera going off and the flash follows before the whirring begins. You watch patiently as he studies the picture with a smirk on his lips. His hand moves smoothly up and down your bare thigh as his gaze flits across the film. 

It was hot seeing him like this, so obviously turned by what he’s doing– by you.

His hand comes up to caress your neck before falling lower, squeezing your chest over the thin fabric of your tank top and you pick up on how he bites his lip before finally tearing his eyes away and placing the picture to the side with the others.

“Wanna take more?” You ask, gingerly tiptoeing into uncharted territory. “I mean… I’d be down?” You suggest lightly while looking up at Hyunjae’s face. His expressions bounce between confusion and surprise before settling on mirth and something else indescribable.

“Yeah?” He asks for confirmation, his voice suddenly low and velvety.

As you nod your head yes, you wrap your fingers around Hyunjae’s wrist and guide his hand down to rest at the hem of your top. 

His hand scrunches up the fabric, exposing most of your stomach as he dips down low to meld his mouth with yours hotly. He kisses you slowly, taking his time with you in a way that you’ve never experienced with him before. His hand slides up further, delicately cupping your chest as he sighs against your lips. The sharp sting of Hyunjae’s fingers digging into your skin sends a shock to your center and your lips part in a soft moan in response. His tongue brushes against the tip of yours tenderly as your skin pebbles under his touch. 

The kiss remains slow as he savors every last second of having you like this, nibbling on your lower lip before sucking the tender spot and kissing you hungrily. You lay slack underneath him, body and mind being led by the pleasure he pours into you with his sinful lips. 

Your back arches as he lifts your tank top up further, pulling the garment over your shoulders. Hyunjae’s hands fall onto either side of your cheeks, holding your face in place as he presses his lips onto yours firmly and warmth floods your chest. His hands travel down your neck and sweep across your shoulders as he drags his lips along your jawline. He continues his descent until he reaches a particular spot on your neck that makes you bite back a loud whimper. He sucks the sensitive area while you squirm underneath him with your eyes half closed. You shake out a soft moan, bliss surging up your spine as he moves to another spot on your neck.

He sucks mark after mark into your skin until you're nearly trembling and soaking wet with need. Your shoulders and neck are covered in splotches of deep reddish and purple hues that you can’t fully see but the look on Hyunjae’s face as he leans back tells you that look to die for. He drinks you in with a lust-clouded gaze, looking you up and down a few times before reaching out for his camera.

“Fuck– you look perfect like this…” he praises, voice imbued in admiration and want. He lines up the shot, standing on his knees above you and you can see just how much he’s into this.

You reply with a moan and glance up, giving the camera a heated look before the camera flashes. His hand comes into the next shot as he wraps his fingers around your slender neck. You catch his dick twitching in his sweats as he takes a second picture with you posed like this. Hyunjae doesn't wait for the film to come out before casting the camera to the side. He yanks at your shorts and underwear, pulling them off of you quickly with your help. You spread your legs wide for him while he works his way out of his clothes. He’s back on you hot and heavy the minute his cock is free, settling between your legs as he devours you with an intense gaze, tracing your form lustfully. 

“Eyes on me, okay?” He orders softly, smoothing a hand over your bent knee lovingly as the other snakes its way up your thigh, leaving behind a sweltering tingle that lingers on your skin. 

His fingers sink into your wet heat and a sultry moan rings through his bedroom. Hyunjae rocks his palm back and forth, two fingers curled upwards against the soft walls of your pussy. You coat the digits, eliciting the sloppiest noises that you’ve ever heard from your wet cunt but you couldn’t be bothered to be ashamed about that in the wake of what he’d just put your neck and shoulders through. 

He picks up the pace and your legs fall open further as a long sigh leaves your chest. You obediently keep your eyes open, trained on Hyunjae while he works you over. The look you share is a charged one as he fucks you with his fingers, his determined gaze contrasting your unbridled blissed-out state. Your swollen lips part as you pant his name, pleading for him not to stop.

Hyunjae blindly grabs ahold of his camera, never stopping the steady rhythm of his deft fingers urging you dangerously close to an orgasm. Your toes curl and your legs tremble as he readies the camera. He lifts it until he’s got the right angle. His biceps strain and sweat trickles down his arms as he pumps his digits in and out of you while rubbing your bud rhythmically. His arm is getting tired but he waits… and waits, finger resting just above the shutter as he waits for the right moment. The one where your face scrunches up and your pussy tries to choke his fingers. He fingers you with just the right amount of pressure to grow the feeling inside you until it bursts–

The shutter goes off and a flash brightens the room.

You toss and turn as you cum all over Hyunjae’s fingers, moaning loudly as he fucks you through it. Gradually his pace slows just enough to gently bring you down from your peak. His fingers slip out of your sloppy folds and he licks them clean without a second thought before retrieving the polaroid from its slot. 

You shiver through the aftershocks of your high while you come down further. “How’d it turn out?” You ask, still breathless. Hyunjae looks over to you with dark eyes and you swallow under the passion in his gaze.

“Unreal,” he replies through a husky tone before setting that picture down beside the others. He climbs back on top of you, kissing you repeatedly as he lays his warm body flush with yours. Your legs tangle with his while you make out and your dainty hands mess up his hair as you roll on top of him in bed. You straddle his hips in haste, desperate to ride him but he clamps his strong hands around your waist freezing you in place.

“There's a shot that I want to get,” he hesitantly admits. 

You look down at him with an endeared smile. You knew him well enough to know what he wanted. He always say you look so pretty sucking him off. “Okay, baby,” you say, shuffling down the bed until your lips are inches away from his cock. 

Hyunjae groans, tilting his head back into the pillows as you take him past your lips. You don’t tease, dipping your head forward to ease more of his cock into your mouth while your tongue glides down his length. Your lips tighten around him, sucking in on your way up and swallowing around the head before gliding down again.

“Fuck–

You grind your nose into his pelvis when he reaches the back of your throat and you feel him squirm in bed. You let up again, going slow as you cover his entire cock in your spit. Hyunjae fists the bedsheets and hisses at the sight of you–  his cock, dripping with the attention that you’ve lavished it with, tucked between your plush dewy lips. You sink his cock into your mouth again, moaning as you sense him preparing to snap another picture of you. 

Your eyes begin to water as you take him to the back of your throat a few more times, looking up at Hyunjae just in time to hear the shutter go off again. You close your eyes and hum, sending another shiver of vibrations down his cock as he tries to check out the picture.

All you hear is shallow gasps for a while as Hyunjae holds the polaroid up to his face, coaxing you up and down his length with his other hand.

“This one is golden,” he rasps, voice ragged and thick with pleasure as he bobs you up and down his cock for a bit longer, entranced by how sexy your eyes look in the picture. You suck harder, swirling your tongue around before Hyunjae gently pulls you off of him by your hair.

“Let me see?” You ask, sitting up and straddling his lap as he places that picture to join the rest.

He just shakes his head. “We have to round out the set first,” Hyunjae teases, hands going to rest at your hips as he lines you up with his stiff cock. Placing your hands behind you on his toned thighs as you lift your hips, angling them to catch his cock between your wet folds before you lower yourself onto him. You sit on his cock in one fluid motion and sigh. He feels so good– the sweet slide against your walls as you’re filled making your head spin. You rock forward, leaning back against your arms for leverage while you rock back, savoring his thick cock pressed against you. You raise your hips and drop back down, moaning at the feel of his cock teasing your needy cunt. 

You circle your hips while you bounce in his lap, slamming your hips down harder with every motion. Your head tilts back as you ride him, so satisfied yet so greedy for more, hips beginning to roll faster. Hyunjae tightens his hold on you before matching your thrusts, sending his cock as deep as possible causing you to cry out in abandon. You bounce faster, breathing ragged as you start to work up a sweat, a sheen covering your stomach and thighs. Your skin slaps against Hyunjae’s as you move in sync, connected as one as your bodies heat up.

His fingertips press into your skin, as he takes control, lifting you up and down with only the strength in his arms. Hyunjae fucks you nice and slow, dropping you down on his cock and sliding you off so you feel every inch of him leave your insides.

“Fuck Jae,” you moan, core aching for release just when he’s decided to slow things down.

“Sorry, sweetheart. You look so good like this. I don’t wanna rush,” he whispers, licking his bottom lip as he looks up at you– still dragging you up and down his cock like you weighed practically nothing.

He doesn’t forget the camera, reaching for it with one hand while you take over once more. You slide down nice and slow before raising your hips, pausing at the top when he tells you to.

“You look fucking incredible, baby.” He says as he takes the last shot.

The shutter clicks and you carefully push the camera out of Hyunjae’s hands, feverishly crashing your lips into his a second later. He immediately falls in line, kissing you and giving you exactly what you’ve been waiting for. His arms circle your back as he holds you close and pounds into you. 

You gasp and writhe, taking all that Hyunjae gives you as your thighs give out. 

Pleasure and fatigue build, and build within you, threatening to overflow as he continues his onslaught on your pussy. He snaps his hips into you with unprecedented strength, and thrusts rough and careless, eliciting nothing but filthy sounds out of you.

His pace picks up, strokes falling out of rhythm as he chases his climax. 

The steady push and pull of his cock filling you up crowds your senses. Your mind goes hazy as you focus on how good Hyunjae makes you feel every time. Pushing your body to places that you didn’t think it could go. You clench around him as another huge orgasm shuts down your body.

When you finally come to your senses, you notice that you're sore and covered in sweat. You feel kind of gross, but there's nothing that could make you abandon your place on Hyunjae’s chest right now. 

You’re so tired that when you try to speak, your words come out as syllables abstractly strung together. The last thing you’re aware of is Hyunjae’s cool lips pressed against your forehead as you drift off to sleep.

-

In the morning, you wake up sore. The marks that litter your neck and shoulders are a little tender and you feel like you did 200 sit-ups and 300 squats right before bed. 

Hyunjae wasn't around, but you weren’t surprised by that– he never missed catching the sunrise at dawn.

As you sit up in bed, the stack of polaroids from last night catches your eye and you leap out of bed to sift through them all. The first photo is so innocent that you chuckle, knowing where the night led you. You glance through the rest, cheeks heating up at how bold you are in front of the camera. 

You flip to the last picture in the stack and can’t help but swoon. You set the stack down, covering the unfiltered pictures with the one of Hyunjae kissing you on your forehead while you were fast asleep.

[mjjune]

TWTR: A COMIC SANS INTRO

as requested/voted on for my 1k follower celebration! thank you so much to everyone who voted and who cares enough about this story to want to know more 💕

artists featured: check them out!!!

@neapaulatan, @ichimakesart, @littlestpersimmon, @akiwitch, @vacantgodling

below the cut is a full image description and twtr's taglist! reply here or message me if you want to be added ✨

[Image Description:

A Comic Sans WIP intro of 9 slides with dark gray background and various images.

Slide 1: Title page with a dark background of green leaves with the title "TWTR: a comic sans wip intro as requested by my followers <3"

Slide 2: "So WTF is TWTR?" with an image of illustrated art of a forest scene with a tree growing through a cottage in the background, a silvery ax with a dragon design sticking out of the earth in the foreground. The slide reads, "a retelling, sorta, more of a sequel ! the prologue is a little red riding hood retelling, and the rest of the novel is the aftermath. red is not so little anymore. the wolf is back for blood and the woodsman has to finish what he started 6 years ago." In smaller font, a note in parentheses says, "and no i will not tell you what twtr stands for. it’s an ongoing joke now that half my betas still didn’t know what it meant even though it was on the signup sheet 🫠"

Slide 3: The Story. Has an illustrated gif image of the woodsman facing away from the audience, his cape blowing in the wind. He has an ax in his left hand, a raven sitting on his right shoulder in the woods. the slide reads: "the woodsman, an outsider, saves a little girl from a legendary beast, only to find out that she’s?? whoops?? the nearby kingdom’s princess and only heir??? so naturally, if you were the queen, and some strange outsider dude pops out of the evil magical forest with your 10yo daughter claiming he saved her from The Wolf™ ... uh, yeah, that’s sus. he’s arrested and has to prove (via dark shit i won’t go into) that he’s magic-free before he can join kingdom society."

Slide 4: Yikes, then what? Has a banner image of the woods with a cloaked figure in the center, fog rising from the bottom, with a raven with glowing eyes in the corner. The slide reads: "over the years, he works his way up to become red’s personal guard. he has his first real friend of his entire life?? 🥺 until the wolf shows back up, working its way through the kingdom devouring people. avery must kill the beast once and for all before it gets to red. as he tracks it, though, he uncovers lies that go deep not only within the kingdom, but his own past. he finds The Wolf™ in the woods, where it offers him a deal: the truth, for red. which will avery choose??? 👀"

Slide 5: Wait so who are these people?? Has 3 icon images of the main characters. First is "Avery, The Woodsman. known for being short, baby-faced, and a man of few words; mysterious past prior to saving red and joining the kingdom." His icon is an illustrated profile view of a short dark-haired tan-skinned man with freckles and a bit of scruff and a serious expression. Second is "Red, Princess Anara. the spirited heir to the throne; angry that she’s not included in royal affairs and wants to learn everything." Her icon is illustrated art of a young girl with blue eyes, red hair in a braid, wearing a dark hooded cloak looking at the audience. Last is "The Wolf™, a monster of legend, rumored to be immortal that lives in the dark forest surrounding the kingdom; the size of a room and devours people whole :P yum yum." Its icon is a dark image of a wolf with glowing white eyes looking at the audience.

Slide 6: Surely there are other characters, MJ??? Slide is plain with a bulleted list of info, which reads: "Honorable Mentions: MAGNUS, the elite guardsman who trains avery and has a complicated history (an unintentional fan favorite); QUEEN ETIENNE, the queen of the kingdom and red’s mom; "GRANDMA", an elderly woman who red liked to visit (secretly) in the woods and was devoured by The Wolf™."

Slide 7: Also Featuring. Slide reads "a badass ax, hand-crafted by avery’s long-deceased parents; giant trees the size of houses; giant burrowing lizards; religious coercion :); magic metal; magic plagues; magic soup; intimate platonic hair braiding; cute child cameos; southern hemisphere world (aka the north is warm and the south is cold)". To the right is an illustration of avery's ax, a dark handle with silvery ax with an etched dragon design.

Slide 8: Ok, but is it gay? with small parentheses note: "how dare you ask me this honestly." Bullet points read: "unfortunately this is classified :) (tbf even in the book i keep it loose and open to interpretation), but here are some themes which may or may not be queer: “(unconscious) true love’s kiss breaks the spell” except does it tho???; princess “uninterested in courting”; handsome shy wallflower guy gets asked to dance by 100 girls and declines them all (think cullen from dragon age lmao); shapeshifting as a metaphor for... things :); found family / family doesn’t have to be blood / adoption; lights vs. dark not being a clear-cut good vs. evil, nuanced morality etc.

Slide 9: Art credits! Slide reads: "a HUGE thank you to all the artists i’ve commissioned! they’re all linked below! check them out! in order of appearance: dark forest scene by neapaulatan; avery cape gif by ichimakesart; foggy banner and wolf icon (fan-made); avery icon by littlestpersimmon; red icon by akiwitch; avery’s ax by vacantgodling. Below the credits, it reads, "Thanks for reading! and as a reminder, all my works have a taglist! if you want a notif every time i post about this wip let me know :)"

End Image Description]

@aether-wasteland-s @annetilney @artbyeloquent @ashirisu @bebewrites

@cljordan-imperium @dogmomwrites @dustylovelyrun @elijahrichardwrites @eventideintrigue

@faithfire-writes @flowerprose @forthesanityofstorytellers @ghafasinej @helioscenic

@isabellebissonrouthier @jamieanovels @lexiklecksi @little-mouse-gardens @marlowethelibrarian

@marrowwife @mr-writes @macabremoons @perasperaadastrawriting @phantomnations

@tate-lin @thyroidhormones @verba-writing @vsnotresponding @wildswrites

[storiesforallfandoms]

Masterlist 3!

Here’s the third masterlist for all of my works! If you want to check out more of my work, here’s the links for masterlist one and masterlist two Imagines marked * are smutty imagines! Imagines marked ` are requests! Imagines marked ⭐ are personal favorites!

IMAGINES

STRANGER THINGS small ~ jim hopper` dance with me ~ eddie munson ⭐ starry night ~ steve harrington* (part five)��⭐ at the hip ~ steve harrington` ⭐ triple date ~ steve harrington (part six) ⭐ the freak ~ steve harrington (part seven) ⭐ oblivious ~ eddie munson ⭐ jason doesn’t know ~ eddie munson ⭐ this is music ~ eddie munson` ⭐

SUPERNATURAL strange human feelings ~ castiel` cleaning ~ dean winchester`

HANNIBAL into fiction` sob story ~ hannibal lecter

THE BOYS obsession ~ billy butcher* ⭐ herogasm ~ soldier boy* ⭐ alone on christmas ~ billy butcher can’t get too close ~ billy butcher ⭐ change in a heartbeat ~ billy butcher ⭐ the bad room ~ homelander ⭐

THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY life father ~ diego hargreeves` rescue mission ~ klaus hargreeves’ ⭐

THE LAST OF US (HBO) friendly neighbors ~ joel miller ⭐ too sweet ~ joel miller

BARRY attraction ~ barry berkman` treat him better ~ barry berkman

AMERICAN HORROR STORY late night sins ~ xavier plympton (1984)*`

VICTORIOUS lost dog ~ tori vega` junker ~ beck oliver

HEMLOCK GROVE i don’t ever wanna see you with him ~ roman godfrey ⭐

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES roses are red ~ damon salvatore` ⭐

OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH captive ~ blackbeard/ed teach ⭐

PEAKY BLINDERS moved on ~ thomas shelby

FUTURE MAN winner ~ josh futturman* ⭐

GAME OF THRONES littlest lion ~ oberyn martell (part one) ⭐ freedom ~ oberyn martell (part two) ⭐

THE WITCHER destiny ~ geralt of rivia

DOCTOR WHO looks of a princess ~ eleventh doctor ⭐

BRIDGERTON by the lake ~ benedict bridgerton

THE GENTLEMEN the assistant ~ raymond smith ⭐

PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN spirit of nature ~ jack sparrow`

THE MAZE RUNNER i’ll keep you safe ~ newt`

MARVEL how things are now ~ marc spector and steven grant` ⭐ kneel ~ loki* the most wonderful time ~ bucky barnes fast ~ pietro maximoff ⭐

1917 early morning ~ will schofield*`

THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF MASSIVE TALENT happy birthday ~ javi gutierrez ⭐

FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY’S i need someone older ~ william afton ⭐ the ice cream girl ~ mike schmidt

SALTBURN new toy ~ felix catton ⭐ partners ~ oliver quick ⭐

THE SANTA CLAUSE santa’s sister-in-law ~ bernard the elf

8 MILE one of the guys ~ jimmy smith jr ⭐

THE FALL GUY the space cowboy and the pa ~ tom ryder

A QUIET PLACE i’d find you in any life ~ eric ⭐

GLADIATOR II betrothed ~ emperor geta ⭐

PETE DAVIDSON your gift` favoritism`

HARRY STYLES the perfect tree a star in the making` sleepy head`

MACHINE GUN KELLY baby mama` ⭐ my queen*` getting your attention*` all the mistakes` not what it looks like` can’t keep doing this*`

EMINEM may the best artist win*` too close for comfort` ⭐ when it’s wrong but it feels right` in the dressing room*` he’s acting different` we have to stop meeting like this` every inch*` let’s surprise the world` i’m sorry i let you down`

GOODGUYFITZ wake up call*`

CORPSE HUSBAND letting go` they forgot` ⭐

ASHTON IRWIN home life` cover me*`

CONAN GRAY pushing`

MATTHEW LILLARD accidental drunk confessions`

JOHNNY KNOXVILLE feeling good*`

ALEX TURNER more than a song*` ⭐

BO BURNHAM can’t handle this right now ⭐ look at me*`

KRISTEN STEWART special customer`

TARON EGERTON he already has my approval ⭐

ROBERT PATTINSON my favorite superhero

GERARD WAY good girl*`

GWILYM LEE history repeats itself`

RYAN GOSLING play date`

JOSEPH QUINN bad idea, right? ⭐

RANBOO fluffy haired gamer boy`

JACOB ELORDI height advantage`

MOTLEY CRUE she is mine ~ mick mars`

CHRIS EVANS not used to normal` ⭐

SWAGGERSOULS our next step`

JSCHLATT too far ⭐ the hotel room* ⭐

JOHNNY DEPP just for us`

TRAVIS BARKER the parent trap`

SHIPS

family reunion ~ hermione granger x draco malfoy`

HEADCANONS

showing pedro pascal fan edits ⭐ sitting on jschlatt’s lap ⭐

NSFW ALPHABET

rook (jp capellette)*` eddie munson* ⭐ billy butcher* ⭐

[simsfvr]

This is Tiago Pecholobo for Simply Lilac BC by @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants Tiago Pecholobo is a man with a chest as hairy as his last name suggests (Pecholobo translates to "Wolfchest") and a pompadour that defies gravity.

This charmer is a master in the art of wearing open shirts (because why button up when you can dazzle?). His gold chain isn’t just an accessory, he wears it like a "Bachelor of the Year medal" (a title he’s awarded himself for the past five years, naturally).

As if that weren’t enough, Tiago proudly showcases a collection of figurines so bizarre they could have their own horror movie. He affectionately dubs it an "artistic conversation starter", although it often leaves people speechless.

Tiago is searching for the love of his life, and after years of fruitless searching and relationships shorter than the number of closed buttons on his shirts, he doesn't want to miss the chance to try his luck with Lilac.

Name: Tiago Pecholobo Age Group: Young Adult Pronouns: He/Him Orientation: Hetero Skills: - Traits: Cringe, Overachiever, Hot-headed Aspiration: City Native Likes: affection, jokes, backyard music, pranks, deep thoughts, white, gossip, flirtation, singer songwriter music, hip hop music, blue, metal music, complaints, alternative music, carnival beats music, physical intimacy, electronica music, dj booth music, compliments, potty humor, silly behavior, arguments, small talk, soul music, gray. Dislikes: black, lullabies radio music, deception, winter holiday music, easy listening music, kids radio music. Gifts: goat, lump of clay, photo camera Misc: His motto is: Where there's hair, there's joy… and I've got an endless supply. He loves to wear lipbalm.

Watcher

Are you comfortable with your pixel person:

Flirting with other contestants? (The bachelorette will have the ‘player’ trait cheated and her boundaries set to no jealousy, so it will not impact your sim’s relationship with her.) Y

WooHooing other contestants? N

Flirting with/and or woohooing NPCs? Y

Flirting with the host? Y

Changes to traits via gameplay prompts? (ie. Evil to Good, depending on what your Sim does, or adding traits) Y

Becoming an occult? Y

[isfjmel-phleg]

So you want to describe a room? I'm not claiming to be any kind of expert, and of course everybody has to find out what works for them, but here are some things that I personally have found helpful when writing descriptions for interiors. You may or may not find it useful, but I thought I'd share in case it could help.

The key question to ask is: What do you want the room to say about something?

Is it a character's personal space? Is it a room that serves a particular purpose? Do you need the setting to convey a particular mood or feeling? Rooms aren't just backdrop; they're an opportunity to build your world, set your scene, and/or develop your characters.

My OC who is an enthusiastic, scattered, impulsive fifteen-year-old girl who lives in a poorly-upkept country castle is going to have a dramatically different bedroom from, say, the OC who is a serious, driven, artistic twelve-year-old girl who lives in a middle-class townhouse in the city. The cluttered antique shop that's the setting of one of my weird short stories needs to convey a very different impression from the hospital waiting room in another such story. Even if your setting isn't anything visually impressive, even if it's the blandest office, that still says something about your world and characters.

Every room is saying something.

For practice, observe rooms in the real world and think about them.

What do these rooms contain? What does the design of a room and its contents say about the people who live there or who use it? How are public spaces different in appearance from private ones? How would a person whose room this is see it? What about a friend of that person? Or a stranger? How does perception of it change at different times of the day or in different states of upkeep?

Take my living room. Most of the mismatched furniture is secondhand, except for a few pieces, like the umbrella stand shaped like an umbrella, or the coffee table that resembles a trunk edged in metal and rivets. The coffee table is piled with papers and books and miscellaneous objects (including a never-used crossword puzzle mug, a turtle hand puppet, and a stray block). More piles of books and papers and comics crowd any flat surfaces. There are three tall bookshelves, crowded with books, sorted by genre and author, and a cabinet of DVDs, sorted by title. Throw blankets lie wadded on the couch until I bother to neatly fold them over the back of the armchair. Displays of decorative objects appear on top of the desk, the cabinet, and a side table. The walls are covered in art prints, mostly of my OCs, but also botanical designs, a poster of the entire text of a Shakespeare play, a couple of wreaths featuring berries, and a Bouguereau painting. The area rug badly needs vacuuming. Sometimes I let boxes pile up by the door instead of taking them out to the trash. There's a good-sized window, but not much natural light. The walls are painted a green-gray color that darkens the space--I didn't choose it. What could you infer about this room? My impression would be home and comfort, but you, who have (probably) never been there, might come to some other conclusions about the person who lives there and her tastes and habits.

The rooms that you write about may be nothing like ones you see in real life in terms of design and detail, but you can bring principles you've observed into just about any kind of setting.

Once you know what you want to convey through the description of the room, the next question is: How can you use imagery to craft this impression?

Sure, you can tell your readers that a room is messy or fancy or boring, but for a description that will pack a punch and stick out in your readers' minds, using imagery is helpful.

So try things like playing with color symbolism. Conside the condition of the room and the objects in it: old, new, tidy, messy, well-kept, neglected, etc. Notice the distinctive objects in it--or even lack of distinctive objects--and call attention to this. Things like the size of the space or the lighting (or lack thereof) can also be striking.

Make the details sensory for a stronger impression. Textures, smells, sounds, etc. But don't feel like you have to go overboard. Zero in on a few specific, impactful images and details. You don't need to describe everything in the room. Just what gets your point across and anything in the room that your characters will interact with or that will serve a purpose in the story. Keep your description proportionate to the room's significance in the story. You should aim for quality over quantity.

This is a description that I'm fairly satisfied with. It's the study of a king, as seen for the first time by a boy who is there because he is in trouble. I wanted to give an impression of wealth and splendor but also of coldness, distance, power, obsession with an appearance of flawlessness. I wanted the room to feel a bit off, a bit ominous. So I chose imagery that suggested the lifeness of a museum, with some classical influences. "White marble" is repeated for emphasis on uniformity. The textures are cold and hard, with an absence of the warmth and softness of textiles. And the final chess image positions the protagonist as a seemingly powerless player in a game he doesn't know the rules of.

It's a lengthier description because I needed to establish just how terrifying the room and the man in it are for the protagonist so that the reader, who is just meeting him, understands what kind of world he lives in and whom he's up against as he's about to have a difficult conversation.

He stood in a room of white marble beneath a high domed ceiling. Bookcases lined the walls, displaying books all the same size, bound identically in the deep blue and silver of the Liennese flag. White marble busts on Ionic pedestals peeked out from corners with pupilless stares. Tamett shuddered, half expecting them to quiz him in Greek with the voice of HRH’s tutor. A forest of blindingly white columns stretched toward the far end of the room. There, before a white marble fireplace, were chairs upholstered in studded navy leather, their unsociable slipperiness unrelieved by any cushion or rug. And beside the chairs, behind a fortress of a desk, awaited exactly the sort of man who would own such a room. The king glanced up from his papers and said, “Come in,” in a low voice that seemed to shake the very dome. Tamett inched across the rugless floor, studying its checkered pattern and wondering if the king had ever considered acquiring giant chessmen to match it.

A further way to describe a room is to let your characters interact with the space. What effect does it have on them? How do they move within it? Are they comfortable there or reluctant to engage and why? How do the contents of the room inform what the characters are doing and thinking about? If there's a couch and an armchair at a distance from it, and there are three people present, who gets the couch and who gets to be physically distanced from the others? How does a character deal with a room that's set up for someone else's convenience but doesn't work for them? If there's a mirror in the room, how does a character respond to it?--can't keep their eyes off it? ignores it? punches it? Etc. etc.

I don't know if this makes any sense, but these are the kinds of things I try to keep in mind for room descriptions. If I ever actually write.

[papermonkeyism]

This post can be found in my devArt, (link), please use that for linking if you need the reference, thank you!

Wingbeans

The funny little griffin-y things colloquially known as wingbeans are flightless, roughly cat-sized, seemingly mammalian creatures with curious nature.

They resemble bipedal cats with chicken feet, but not quite. They are usually covered in soft, floofy fur, except for their hind legs and pawpads. They have soft snoot covering their mouths, which they will boop into things and people they like. Snoot bumps are their way of saying hello.

They have big, bright eyes with vertical slit pupils, and their nostrils are hidden beneath the floof of the snoot. They trust their sight and hearing more than their sense of smell.

They have short arms with three fingers, that are usually held tucked against their chest. The fingers usually have hidden cat claws.

Their wings are small and covered in soft, fluffy feathers, that are used mostly as display and as an additional pair of arms when climbing. The wings have five fingers in a fluff mitten, each having a paw pad, which is where the name wingbean comes from. In a wild type 'bean only the thumb of the wing has a retractable claw, like a cat, to use as climbing grip and for defence.

Their legs are usually hairless from ankle down, and have four toes, three pointing forwards and a small dewclaw pointing backwards. The foot claws are dull, and non-retractable.

They usually have long floofy tails, though there are short tailed and even bobtailed variations. It is also possible to have a tuft tipped tail.

Wingbeans are omnivorous, and as a species aren't picky about what they eat, though personal preferences vary wildly.

Wingbeans can have anywhere between 1 and 4 kittens (also called beanies or beanlings) at a time, most often 2. The kittens are born within a soft leathery egg shell, and they hatch usually within few hours after birth. They nurse their young like mammals.

Mom takes care of the kittens untill they're big enough to fend for themselves, though the offspring often stays nearby even as adults. The 'beans are social creatures who enjoy hanging out with friends, so big family groups (be they actually related or adopted) aren't unusual.

Wingbeans are considered fully grown at one year old, and in the wild their life span tends to be around 20 years, though domesticated 'beans can get a lot older.

Wild wingbeans come in a wide variety of markings and their colors cover all shades of browns and grays, but some have been bred to display brighter colors and strange markings, including unnatural ones. All coat types and lengths are possible; short haired, long haired, curly coated, maned, etc.

They have no apparent sexual dimorphism, and gender appears to be an optional feature to them.

Wingbeans are meant to be fun creatures, and to bring joy and fun.

Wingbeans are not meant for making money. They can be created freely, and they may be gifted, but they shall not be sold.

If you want to get rich by making weird little griffin-y things, make your own species.

Can I make my own wingbean?

Yes you can!

Can I make wingbean adoptables?

As long as you don't sell the designs for real life money. Giving them away for free, or trading them for virtual stuff such as virtual petsites' in-game currency, or things like art or poetry is fine.

Can I make wingbean NFTs/sell them for crypto stuff?

No.

Can I commission people to draw my wingbean?

Yes! Also, while wingbeans themselves aren't meant to be bought with money, do pay artists for the work they do. Artists need to eat too.

Can I commission an artist to design me a wingbean?

I'd say that still counts under the commission clause, so yes.

Can I use them in my D&D/TTRPG campaign?

Sounds fun, sure!

What if I want my wingbean to have rainbow colors?

Sure. Maybe your 'bean was bred by a wizard or something. Have fun!

Can my wingbean have raptor claws?

Sounds awesome. Go for it!

Can my wingbean have horns or other fancy details?

Did your 'bean wander in the way just as you were about to cast polymorph, didn't it?

You said they are flightless, but what if I want my wingbean to be able to fly?

Sounds like it was either born with bigger wings, or it can levitate. Either way sounds cool.

Can I make a wingbean of a big cat species?

That might stretch the definition of a wingbean, but if you feel like it's still wingbeany enough, then sure, go for it!

Do they have whiskers?

They can, if you want.

Are wingbean legs scaly like bird feet, or leathery?

Whichever you want. Both are good.

Are there any rare or limited features or markings?

The rarity of those depend entirely on what kinds of 'beans people create. If half the people making wingbeans decide to make theirs blue, then I guess blue isn't a rare color at that point, now is it?

But how will I know if my wingbean is special?

It's special because it's yours. No wingbean belongs behind paywalls.

What would a hairless wingbean look like?

Considerably less fluffy.

[mellos-blonde-hair]

A Night to Remember…

Gosh I love him so much no real relationship will make me feel like this….anyways enjoy;)

….

Credits to the artist on Pinterest ( Rinasab555)

…..

Disclaimer: (fluff…)

…..

You lay on your side, propped up on one elbow, gazing down at Mello. The soft moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on his face. His blond hair, tousled from the day, fanned out on the pillow. Even in sleep, he looked so intense, so beautifully complex. You felt your heart swell with affection and a deep sense of peace just watching him.

Mello was dressed in his most comfortable clothes: a worn out black T-shirt that clung to his toned chest and a pair of loose gray sweatpants. The sight of him like this, relaxed and unguarded, was a rare and precious thing. Your fingers traced the lines of his jaw, marveling at the contrast between his strong, determined features and the vulnerability he displayed only in these quiet moments. He stirred slightly, murmuring something unintelligible, and you couldn't help but smile.

"You're amazing, you know that?" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "Even when you're asleep, you look like you're plotting something brilliant."

Mello shifted again, this time moving closer to you, his arm draping over your waist. The warmth of his body against yours was both comforting and electrifying. You snuggled closer, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

His scent enveloped you a mix of leather and the subtle hint of blueberries from his shampoo. It was a smell uniquely his, and it filled you with a profound sense of belonging.

"I love you," you whispered, feeling the words reverberate in the silence of the room. "I love everything about you. Your fire, your determination, your flaws, and your perfections. I love how you challenge me, how you make me a better person just by being you."

Your eyes wandered to the scar that marked the side of his face, a stark reminder of the battles he'd fought and the strength he possessed. You gently traced the scar with your fingertips, your heart aching with both sorrow and pride. It was a part of him, a testament to his resilience and the journey that had shaped him into the man you loved.

Mello's hand moved gently on your back, his touch light and soothing. It was as if he could hear you, even in his sleep. You placed a soft kiss on his chest, feeling the rise and fall with each breath he took.

"Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve you," you continued, your voice filled with emotion. "You're like a force of nature, and I get to be the one who stands beside you, through everything. That means the world to me."

He sighed contentedly in his sleep, and you couldn't resist the urge to nuzzle into the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent once more. The blueberries mixed with the warmth of his skin, creating a sensory memory you knew you would cherish forever.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you," you murmured against his skin. "I wish you knew how much you mean to me, how much I admire you. You're my hero, Mello. My partner in everything."

As if responding to your words, Mello's arm tightened around you, pulling you even closer. You felt a tear escape your eye, but it wasn't from sadness. It was from the overwhelming love you felt in this moment, a love so pure and intense that it left you breathless.

"I promise I'll always be here for you," you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. "No matter what happens, I'll stand by you. We'll face everything together, just like we always have."

You felt Mello's breathing change, and you looked up to see his eyes fluttering open. He blinked a few times, his gaze focusing on you. A soft smile spread across his lips, and he reached up to brush away the tear from your cheek.

"Hey," he said, his voice husky from sleep. "What's all this about?"

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at the sight of his sleepy expression. "Just admiring you while you sleep," you replied softly. "Thinking about how much I love you."

Mello's smile widened, and he pulled you closer, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "I love you too," he whispered against your skin. "More than you'll ever know."

You nestled into his embrace, feeling his heartbeat sync with yours. In that moment, surrounded by his warmth and love, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. And that was all you needed.

He ran his fingers through your hair, the gentle strokes calming your thoughts. "You know," he said softly, his breath warm against your ear, "sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and just watch you sleep. It makes me realize how lucky I am to have you by my side."

Your heart swelled even more, if that was possible. "Really?" you asked, feeling a mixture of surprise and deep affection.

"Really," he confirmed, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. "You look so peaceful, so beautiful. It reminds me of why I fight so hard every day. For us. For this."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, you didn't try to stop them. "Mello, I love you so much," you whispered, your voice trembling with the depth of your emotion. "Sometimes it scares me how much I love you. But it's a good kind of scary, you know? Like the kind that makes you feel alive."

He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that took your breath away. "I know exactly what you mean," he said, his voice steady and sincere. "Because I feel the same way. Every single day."

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as he pressed his forehead to yours. The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped in a cocoon of love and mutual understanding.

When you finally opened your eyes, Mello was looking at you with such adoration that it made your heart skip a beat. "You are my everything," he said softly. "And I promise, I will never let anything come between us."

"I believe you," you replied, your voice full of conviction. "And I promise the same. We'll face everything together, no matter what."

Mello smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made you melt. "Now, how about we get some sleep?" he suggested, pulling you even closer. "We've got a lot of living to do tomorrow, and every day after that."

You nodded, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. As you settled back into his embrace, you inhaled deeply, the scent of blueberries and Mello filling your senses once more. You closed your eyes, feeling his heartbeat strong and steady beneath your ear. It was a rhythm you had come to rely on, a reminder that no matter how chaotic the world outside might be, you always had this sanctuary.

Mello shifted slightly, adjusting his hold on you to make you more comfortable. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your back, each touch sending ripples of warmth through your body. "You know," he said quietly, "before I met you, I never thought I'd find someone who understood me. Who saw past all the walls and the anger."

"I always saw you," you whispered back. "From the very beginning, I saw the real you. And I fell in love with every part of you, even the parts you thought you had to hide."

His grip tightened slightly, as if to reassure himself that you were really there. "I used to be so afraid of losing," he admitted. "But with you, I realize that what we have is something that can't be taken away. It's ours, and nothing can break it."

You smiled, your heart brimming with love for the man beside you. "We're stronger together," you said, your voice filled with conviction. "And we'll always find a way through anything that comes our way. Because we have each other."

Mello's eyes softened, and he leaned in to kiss you, a slow, tender kiss that conveyed all the love and gratitude he felt. "Thank you," he murmured against your lips. "For loving me, for being my anchor."

"Always," you replied, your voice a gentle promise. "I'll always be here for you, Mello."

As you lay there, entwined in each other's arms, the world outside seemed to fade away. The only thing that mattered was the love you shared, a love that had weathered every storm and emerged even stronger. You felt his breath even out, a sign that he was drifting back to sleep, and you allowed yourself to relax completely, secure in the knowledge that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

In the quiet stillness of the night, surrounded by the scent of blueberries and the warmth of his embrace, you knew that this was a moment you would carry with you forever. A night to remember, a testament to the love that bound you and Mello together, unbreakable and everlasting.

As sleep finally claimed you, your last thought was of Mello and the deep, unwavering love you felt for him. It was a love that would see you through any challenge, a love that made every moment spent together a gift. And with that comforting thought, you drifted into a peaceful, dream-filled sleep, knowing that whatever the future held, you would face it side by side, heart to heart.

….

I am not crying you are….

[zipperzoo]

TOO SWEET (WHISKEY NEAT)

The Last of Us (2013 - 2024) Joel Miller x f!reader (one use of a gendered word) Word Count: 2.3k A03 Themes: Alcohol, Age Gap, Fluffy, Cute, Winter, First person, one-shot, SFW Summary: Inspired by Hozier's new banger, too sweet and those fantastic Joel miller edits to the song. I just got three things to say: God bless our troops, God bless The last of us and GENTLEMEN- START YOUR ENGINEEESSSS

Orange light of the Tipsy Bison was a welcoming one. After a long week of patrolling and harvesting, the whole town put together a game night. One that had been planned in advance and had plastered posters across every fence of the large commune. 

The blue hue of the evening helped illuminate the inside of the boisterous bar. A contrast of the warmth and the harsh cold outside drew people further inside. The heart of Jackson- makes sense for it to be a classic country tavern.

Despite that, outside stood a silhouette, one hunched over the railing that just nestled outside of the walkway.

Like a guard dog.

The large figure caught my eye while I laughed with the crowd I was with. The bustling of lively folks and chatter was soon washed out as I saw in the corner of my eye that shape.

He captured my full attention.

Turning my head slightly to see the man better. Leaning back to see past the person who sat beside me who was blocking the view.

Frowning to myself, I grabbed my drink from the bar. Nudging past the crowd to then open the glass door just ajar. Maybe it was my curiosity or the alcohol in me that brought out the sociable nature but I wanted to disturb that person’s peace.

Hit in the face with the frosted air, goosebumps run up my arms, it was an unsettling change from the warm and cozy heat from inside that still warmed my back. 

I winced slightly to then look up at the silhouette. Little light that was outside haloed his figure. Looking like an angelic painting. 

It was that poetic artistic appeal that struck me or the cold that was sobering me up. Either way, I wasn't going to argue against something that was visually appealing. Like a scene from a cinematic masterpiece.

Completely committing to the idea of going outside, I pushed myself outside and gently shut the door behind me. Zlip locking the chatter inside the building, locking it away to then have the peaceful quiet.

Wrapping one arm around me while one hand still held my ice hold drink, making my fingers go numb. 

I moved further outside with the goal to talk to this person, or at the very least check if they are okay.

The figure wore a tan coloured coat, with the orange glow from the windows it was hard to tell if it was heavy cotton or corduroy. His hair just fell over the collar. Long with gray streaks peaking through as it curled.

“Cold huh?” I mumbled just loud enough for the man in front of me to catch. In response he tensed his shoulders and stood up straight from his lean. He hadn't heard me close the door, let alone the disruption of the quiet that came with the bar door opening, but did hear me speak.

I was mistaken, this person did not act like a guard dog- more like a moose caught in the woods alone. Alert and easy to scare.

I felt like a rookie out hunting, seeing the slow and magnificent creature and I made the beginner mistake of walking up to it and my callout was the snap of a twig that started it.

He shifted slightly and turned his head halfway, seeing me. I saw his ragged appearance, and worn expression. 

It was Joel. 

Joel Miller.

Joel the quiet rough guy that mainly kept himself to himself besides his brother Tommy or the girl he looked after Ellie. It was hard to see this guy on his own, he was always with either of the two.

When he was on his own though, it very often was naturally uncomfortable. He just had that sort of atmosphere around him.

I remember very vividly when I went on a patrol with Joel. It was just to show me the general route, it was all new to me at the time. I just remember trying to strike up a conversation and he would shell up. Giving one sarcastic response or ignoring what I said. 

Kind of like meeting your friend’s dad for the first time. The same awkward silence and blunt statements of testing the waters to then bad jokes. Often repeating Ellie’s bad puns.

It would have been more pleasurable to rip my own fingernails.

“Hmm.” He hummed. 

I assume it was a response to my comment or to my presence. He moved back to his previous comfortable lean.

I slowly shuffled towards him rubbing my arm to then lean my arms down besides him onto the railing. Not too close to him but also not too far. Just enough space that my shudder of the cold couldn't be sensed- I hoped.

“Enjoying the party?” I nodded back towards the bar. Joel barely moved his head to face me, instead just side glanced to then hum again. Not uttering a word. 

It didn't seem like he wanted to talk. It is just like that patrol we went on.

I inhaled a sharp breath and asked “What’s your poison?” He took a sip, standing up straight and rolling his shoulders. Moving his upper body to then lean one arm on the railing to face me. 

“Whiskey.”

“Ah you do speak.” I teased, giving him a smile. In response he gave me a lopsided smile. “So… Whiskey and out in the cold.” He raised his eyebrows slightly expressing amusement in my comments, slowly warming up to my company but still very much keeping me distant with his blunt replies. “Just wanted some fresh air.” To that he leaned back forward, turning his attention away from me.

“Well the air sure is fresh.” I shivered slightly. “Why don’t you come back inside? I think Maria is about to start another round of card games.”

“I’m fine, you go back inside, you’ll catch a chill.”

“And you won't?”

“I’m wearing a coat.”

“You're old though.” 

A big smile grew on his worn face. “Old huh?”

“Don’t old people get cold.”

He rested his glass on the railing to then move to face me, standing up straight. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Enough.”

“Enough to bother an ‘old man’ who just wanted some fresh air.” He wrapped his fingers around his whiskey glass once again.

“Enough to give an old man who is possibly freezing to death some company.”

“I’m fine kid, I don't need company.”

He was far more chatty than usual, no thanks to the whiskey I bet. “Entertain me for a bit then?”

“Entertain you?” He chuckled, turning to face me, taking a sip of his drink.

His cheeks were slightly rosy, pepper kissed with a strawberry hue. There was do doubt about it. He was merry with his whiskey. 

“Yep, entertain me. I’m bored of the folks in there.”

He reached up his hand to scratch his jawline, turning to look out into the roads of Jackson once more. “I’m not one for company.”

“Oh but, Mr Miller, I’m in dire need of some company that only a miserable and tired old man such as yourself could fill.”

He let out another low chuckle at my dramatic act. “Think you're funny huh?”

“I’m the sweetest.”

With that, he rolled his head back to look at me. My goofy grin I didn't realize I had melted just as I took in his appearance. The way his long hair just swooped over his face, the scar on his nose. The harsh and deep wrinkles that suited his face better than I dared not imagine him without them. His hair was well groomed as was his beard, full and well trimmed. 

 “And I like my whiskey neat.” He muttered. Not paying attention to his words, The way his smile lines just made me feel slightly fuzzy inside made my mind run blank. “Hm? Come again?” He flashed his teeth as he looked away, smiling to himself. I'm guessing. Finding amusement or disbelief of my entire play by play of some sort of hazily morning day dream. “I’m agreeing with you- that you're sweet.”

“Aw, and here I thought that you were a lonely loner old man who had no idea about sweet things.”

“I do prefer bitter things.” 

“Like what? coffee?” “Exactly.”

“Doesn't hurt to have a splash of cream or maybe a little sprinkle of sugar,”

“You just won't take no as an answer wont you?”

“You're having fun aren't you though?” I nudged him playfully and at that he crackled a laugh, a drunken laugh. It was a little rough sounding but it was a pleasant sound. 

It made me feel at ease. I had completely forgotten I was freezing with the rush of adrenaline this entire conversation was giving me.

Completely strange now to recall how hard it was to talk to him, now it felt… Natural. Liquid courage was to thank for that. It softened up his hard edges, just enough he was approachable. I honestly didn't expect him to be like this, if this side of him was more well known across Jackson then he would be far more popular than Tommy. 

“Oh.” He cleared his throat to then shift his weight. “I’m having the time of my life.” his voice dripping with sarcasm. I could drink it up, that Texan accent with that sarcasm with a drunken smile on his face.

It could make me blush. Maybe I was blushing already, it was hard to tell with jack frost nipping at my cheeks and nose.

Raising my drink to my lips, but before I take a sip, I feel courageous. “So, cowboy, why are you here on your lonesome?” I take a sip of my drink, forgetting how strong and sweet my drink was, trying to withhold a reaction.

“As I said, I just wanted fresh air.”

“Outside ‘The Tipsy Bison’?”

I had the feeling he didn't want to argue or bite back anymore, as he just hummed in response then took another sip of his whiskey. 

“Humour me for a moment and could you do me a favour?” That caught his attention, looking at me, waiting for me to continue. “This is-” I pinch my nose bridge, slightly feeling the embarrassment rise up as the question ponders in my head. I sighed “Would you dance with me?” I murmured out finally.

He pushed himself from the railing, leaning one hand against it, holding all his weight. Raising one brow at me as he parted his lips. I guess I was kind of confused by my request.  

“Dance with you?” 

I was too nervous suddenly to respond, I just nodded. He smiled at me and shook his head, placing his glass down on the railing and standing in front of me, firm and steady with his cheeks flushed. 

He looked adorable. How can a man his age and of his terrifying nature be adorable. 

Holding his hand out towards me lazily, I took that as his answer. I couldn't help but have one big goofy childish grin on my face. It felt like a small win. 

Placing my ice cold fingers into his hand, he wrapped his warm ones round them. He flinched slightly- possibly at the realization at how cold I am. Rubbing his thumb over my fingers slowly warming them up.

The calluses of his fingertips were coarse, adding to his textured hands already with his rough and hard touch. It felt like I was brushing my hands over expensive but well worn leather.

“Alright, one dance,” he whispered. Leaning a little closer to me, I could smell the bitter whiskey on his breath. “Then you’ll best go back inside before you freeze to death.”

My expression softens up, I tug on his hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Promise.” “Atta girl.” 

He didn't wait a second longer for me to possibly change my mind, Joel moved to the centre of the wooden boards outside the bar. Hovering one hand over my waist, encouraging me to follow him centre. Hesitating to touch me anymore than he already was with my hand.

Letting him practically drag me along, I gripped one hand onto his shoulder as my hand he held dug my frosty tips into his. He must have found it uncomfortable because he let go of my hand to then intertwine our fingers just so it was easier to hold. A selfish part of me thought maybe to also warm my fingers up better.

Moving my overhand to rest on top of his shoulder, he then confidently finally placed his hand onto my waist.

Taking the lead, Joel began to sway, step by step. I followed like a good drunk dancing partner.

It was so strange. We were in our own little bubble. Inside the bar looked completely unbothered and unphased by us outside. No one had noticed that I even left.

Even if anyone had looked outside and saw us they probably would have written it off as two drunk and merry folk just enjoying the music inside, the strums of the pedal steel that just seeped through the walls.

It was the perfect disguise. I can’t speak for Joel, but I selfishly and unapologetically enjoyed this, in a way you think you are the main character. The way you feel sunlight for the first time after a long and dark winter. The way you think the world revolves around you when folks beam when they see you.

It felt like a moment in a romance novel that made you feel warm and cosy. 

This isn't love of course, this is just two drunk people enjoying one another's company. But I think to fall in love with this man if he allowed it would feel like the world stood still but also spun too fast for anything to make sense.

A privilege. One I’ll probably day dream about often and use this moment as a starting point. 

As I let my mind wonder it's intoxicated thoughts, I closed the gap between us and rested my head on his shoulder and hummed along to the tune that was faintly heard.

He joined in with his soft humming.

How sweet, a man who came across so bitter would be so sweet on just a bit of whiskey.

[purity-town]

Ask responses below the cut! Lots of thoughts on Terraria lore and Purity Town worldbuilding -- mostly focusing on the Crimson, the war, and Guides.

Reasons why I chose Corruption over Crimson, off the top of my head:

Artistic reasons: Chris was always going to lean towards magenta & dark blue weapons/armor where possible as a nod to the nebula pillar coloration, and I felt that it was easier to work with those colors against a purple/gray/brown background than a red one. Similarly, the purple of demonite matches the Corruption colors, making it easy to tie a visual connection between demonite and the shadow orbs' evil energy.

Personal reasons: My first world was a Corruption one, and I tend to favor Corruption in general as I like the music more.

Practical reasons: It's much, much easier to draw worms and the various other Corruption enemies than it is to draw the Crimson enemies, as the Crimson enemies are far more complicated in appearance and poses. Plus all the blood and brains puts me in an awkward spot as I don't want to run into issues with any of the websites I post the comic to.

Lore reasons: While the Brain of Cthulhu does very nicely match up with Moon Lord's actual design, it doesn't have a Mech boss associated with it, and I didn't want the Destroyer to feel like it came out of nowhere; I felt it was easier to justify the EoW being related to evil/Moon Lord in some way than the Destroyer existing in a Crimson world. The Corruption's shadow orbs also naturally tie into the idea of the "ancient spirits of light and dark" being released from the underworld, as the Crimson doesn't really convey the "dark" side of things that well. Also, the Crimson is generally associated with health while the Corruption is associated with mana, and since Chris is a mage I wanted to lean into the magic side of things.

As for my ideas with the Crimson:

Theme-wise, the blood and gore is easy to relate back to the same consuming, flesh-melding energy of blood moons. (While blood moons already have a link to Corruption/Crimson in the form of corrupt/vicious animals, the Crimson just makes more sense.) The massive skeletons in the background bring up similarities with bone serpents and wyverns/phantasm dragon, and the eyeballs with the EoC/WoF/True EoC.

Where the Corruption is more of the culmination of sin and dark thoughts and eldritch energies that twist whatever they come into contact with, the Crimson is a growing, living being that spiraled into wild mutation from eldritch energy. The Corruption naturally grows over time through additional sins giving it the power to spread, while the Crimson grows by actively consuming more and more living material; contamination vs. infection; acidic vs. corrosive.

The Crimson is a hive mind, of the sort where each new mind adds its knowledge and input to the collective, and likewise has its will overridden by the majority. At the core of it all is the Brain of Cthulhu -- intelligent, but not something that can be reasoned with or spoken to; the sort of being whose mind is so fundamentally different from a human's that anyone who comes into contact would be left mentally shattered. Much the same way one who stares into the darkness seeking to study the eldritch and bizarre could be left broken.

Where the Corruption chasms are worm tracks, I've always interpreted the Crimson chasms as a heart and the arteries spreading out from it. Or maybe the tendrils of a spreading infection? Not really sure!

Side note, the general theme (flesh/blood) and many of the monsters (face monster, crimera, blood feeder, etc.) also tie very well into the Wall of Flesh and its hunger. The justification for the WoF being so...flesh in the comic is that Andrew is a human*, and so the WoF's form is influenced by what his soul knows (flesh and blood body), mixed with lots and lots of eldritch energy giving it the visual ties to the EoC/Moon Lord in the eyes/mouth. But it's not as natural of a link as "the WoF's form is steeped in overflowing Crimson energy locked away in the center of the earth."

Instead of shattering, I imagine it would just poof into a particularly liquid-looking red smoke. Something to combine it being an immaterial/magical collection of energy with it being bloody and gory. Less of the sharp/shattered/sparkly look of shadow orbs, and something more organic and primal.

As for Crimson hearts...I suppose it's the other side of the coin of shadow orbs. Keeping with the theme of Crimson being vaguely health/damage-related while Corruption is mana-related, where shadow orbs are pustules of evil and eldritch magic, I could imagine Crimson hearts as concentrations of the life energy that's been consumed by/generated within the Crimson. Something that pulses with the hearts and minds of the countless creatures that have been incorporated into the Crimson before. Hence the panic necklace; something that fills you with adrenaline and the vitality to push forward and run for your life when hurting (compared to the band of starpower boosting your ability to channel magic).

BAD. Really, really, really bad.

The most obvious reason was all of the general destruction that the world had suffered at that point. Land masses ripped apart or twisted/distorted. Civilization shredded, infrastructure destroyed. What wasn't outright blasted to bits was warped beyond recognition or so corrupted there was no hope of salvaging what had been there before. Loss of homes means exposure to the elements, and loss of farmland means starvation; many societies crumbled or were staggered by the loss of vital industries and resources.

The main surviving communities were small subsets of what were once larger cultures. They were the ones lucky enough to have enough resources nearby to be self-sustaining -- cities had it the worst, requiring resources to be brought in from elsewhere, while more remote communities tended to be affected the least. Andrew, for instance, grew up in a very small community out on the plains, and while they did have contact with other communities, trade was limited to only specialty goods. Everything else came from the local area.

On top of the physical loss of land and infrastructure, there was also the loss of knowledge. The people who stood up to fight were the most powerful mages and strongest warriors, trying to hold back the destruction and stop the eldritch power contaminating the world; when they died, their knowledge of the world died with them. Similarly, Dryads were far more common back then, with people relying on them to interpret the weather, bless the crops, protect them from harm, and purify any imbalance of good and evil. So even the folks who did survive had to suddenly adjust to having no Dryads to fall back on.

Then, just when they thought the worst of it was over -- that their world had ended and was something new and scary, but stable -- the first Blood Moon rises and everything goes to Hell in a hand-basket once more (albeit only for a night). So now, rather than the night being a time for mages to practice their craft, the inherent chaos of the dark is now dialed up 1000% (even moreso during blood moons). Hence the push for some folks to try and find solace beneath the earth -- building the underground cabins, establishing the Dungeon, and the Lihzahrds locking themselves within a temple away from the sky.

The world was finally given a chance to breathe again once most of the eldritch magic, and in equal measure the divine hallow, was locked away in the core of the world. But by that point the old world was already a distant memory. It's been 500 years since the war, around 450 since most magic was locked away, and what did remain from before the war gave the world a significant boost in recovery. Old magic items and technology can be studied and recreated, and while technological/magical advancement is a bit uneven from region to region depending on their level of development and general population, the Guides have worked hard sharing everything they know between them to rebuild.

Purity Town, and the smaller villages immediately surrounding it (in the desert, snowy mountains, etc.) has such a low population/is so remote that they don't have much in the way of established governance. Various NPCs arguably have varying levels of authority within their specialization: Heather is the go-to for healing, Malik is the local monster hunter, and so on, but it's all very informal. The individual villages probably all have people who handle day-to-day things -- there are various random folks who live in the region to fill out each village outside of the established NPCs -- but it's just something going on in the background to keep the place running.

Guides aren't really meant to be politicians either, but they do often fall into a default leadership role since they're the go-to advice guys!

They're meant to preserve and share knowledge of the world, its languages, and its cultures; a reaction to the vast majority of that knowledge having been lost in the wake of the war 500 years ago. So Guides are out there fielding questions like "how do I make this medicine/when do I harvest this plant/is this edible/etc.," but they also are expected to know enough about situations like weather/celestial events such that they can give advice no matter what crops up. Extend that attitude to a more general "this person knows how to handle Problems, so let's default to whatever they tell us whenever we run into Problems," and you end up with Guides often taking pseudo-leadership or advisory positions.

Andrew is in something of a weird spot, as he took over for a much more established/respected Guide after she retired and threw him into it, and is not particularly good at commanding authority or dealing with people in the way she could, even though he tries to be nice. But he's extremely, extremely knowledgeable, even compared to other Guides due to having been around for long enough to pick up so much knowledge, so at least he can fulfill that aspect of the job easily enough and the townsfolk trust him to do so.

Tangentially related, but the lack of solid governance is specific/unique to Purity Town's remoteness. With a small enough population, folks rely on the cooperation and skills of others much more, and any disputes would be worked out among the townsfolk proper.

The world isn't fully settled, but there are some locations with enough of a population to be considered actual kingdoms (see: Princess NPC) with established government (see: Tax Collector). Chris' hometown, which sees a lot of ship traffic/trade, has a proper government, local guard, etc. along with their own Guide. Purity Town is just particularly out there! But it's still been around for long enough to have seen some trade, built up some skills among the residents, and establish basic infrastructure so that residents can live comfortably. Like comparing a small town in the modern day to a remote village in medieval times, residents still enjoy a relatively high standard of living, despite being a scattered and remote population.

The world hasn't recovered to where it was pre-Moon Lord, but it's certainly not a post-apocalyptic wasteland anymore!

[ouroborosorder]

Do you have an instance of Arknights VFX that gets frequently praised that you as a VFX artist think is mediocre or bad?

EBENHOLZ' SKIN "EINE VARIATION" IS A CRIME AGAINST ME SPECIFICALLY.

Look. I love Ebenholz, a lot. His effects are really strong, too! Some of my personal favorites. But this skin. Jesus Christ this skin.

I have seen so many people praising this skin as having good effects or being better than his original and it genuinely makes me wonder if half of the effects are actually rendered in some sort of shrimp colors that everyone but me can see.

There is not a single part of this skin's effects that I don't hate. Not just because I find them ugly, uninteresting, and unclear, but because I think they fundamentally misunderstand who Ebenholz is.

You asked for this.

Part 1 - The Colors.

The actual art for his skin has a beautiful striking blue and light gray background, with the light pink Arts accentuating it, and then the blood red and pitch black of his outfit meant to draw the eye to the center. This works perfectly in the art, so what's wrong?

First problem. Ebenholz doesn't have the blue background in gameplay. Meaning that his effects are red (not pink, like the art, they are red) and his skin is red. So there's extreme monochrome happening, with absolutely no interesting contrast between him and his Arts. His Elite Charge is blue, at the very least, so his signature gimmick stands out uniquely, which is quite nice! That's a great decision that won't cause any problems down the line at all.

"Oh, but Keys, it's so that the red Arts stand out when he uses his S3 and summons that giant goat spirit in the background!" That's a great point, person I just made up. Please remember this excellent point for later.

Part 2 - General Effects

The effect starts with a deploy animation wherein Ebenholz is surrounded by sparkles like some sort of magical girl. The deploy effect is genuinely bad in so many ways, mostly related to timing and motion, but this rant is going to be long enough. And I'm gonna need to focus and talk about the sparkles.

The biggest thing to know about Eine Variation is this image. Get acquainted with it. If there was a recurring visual motif in Eine Variation, it is this piece from the original art.

And yeah, as an effects artist, I'd be amped to work on this. This looks fucking sick as shit. It's dynamic, it's chaotic, it's got harsh lines to contrast the flowing music staff, it's great. So let's see how this texture looks in g- okay what the fuck.

In the game, it looks nothing like the art. It's literally just the stock glimmer effect. It's not even a new texture. This thing's been in the game since release. It looks. Bad. It's way too simplistic. Because it wasn't meant to be the center of attention, it's meant to appear for an instant and then fade. Like, you know. A glimmer.

What you just saw in the screenshot above is one of Ebenholz' Mystic Caster charges. And it is easily my least favorite part of the entire skin.

Ebenholz (Original Flavor)'s Mystic Caster charges has one of my favorite visual touches in the entire game. Ebenholz fights using artifacts from the Witch King whose power he inherits - a wand and a set of five Originium dice. So he wields the wand, and has die rotate around him as he fights. In-game, they represent this by his charges being the dice, rotating around his hand. This is, as we say in the vfx industry, fucking badass. So naturally they removed the dice entirely in Eine Variation.

Fuck.

Fine, alright. Maybe it's him... moving further from the Witch King's influence, then? We'll go with that hey stop looking at his S3 what are you doing don't get ahead of me.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "hey, Keys, this is unfair. You're asking us to judge an animated effect based on a static picture of it." Well, my dear reader, I have bad news. You just saw the entire charge's visual. The whole thing.

They are a glimmer of light that does not pulse or twinkle. They just. Sit there. Floating. Again, it's just so simplistic, it's not even interesting to talk about.

The only good thing I can say about it is that it's way easier to tell how many charges he has since they're bigger, more spread out, and not moving. Also the Elite charge is WAY more distinct, since it's bright blue now to contrast with the red normal charges. Which is nice! A good decision! It would sure be a shame if it bit them in the ass later!

Part 3 - Attack and Skill 1

Did you think I was kidding when I said that the sparkles are the sole visual motif in this skin?

I hate these attack trails. Not only are they too simplistic, they're just too cute. I joked about magical girls before, but dear god, this just doesn't fucking look right. This skin is literally described as him being apathetic and miserable as a noble, so why are the effects so... Colorful and cute? Ebenholz isn't a cutesy goofy music-themed magical girl, Ebenholz is a sad gay goth kid who would create a fake My Immortal confession for attention.

I also hate the musical notes. I know I complained about the glimmers being too one-note (pardon the pun), but they just don't interact with the rest of the effect at all. There's nothing else musical about what is happening here. They feel added to remind you that he is casting music.

God I fucking hate the sparkles so goddamned much. I also find it really funny that one single musical note bursts forth with each hit. These shapes are just... So boring, so simple. But put a pin in that for a later.

His S1 uptime comes with an awful aura. he glows red. There is only red and white. this is all there is. This is all there will ever be. That's all I've got about S1.

Part 3 - Skill 2

Oh jesus go back to the red and white

First off, I find these goat so fucking ugly. The synths are a truly terrible choice, because synths and digital music don't come up in any capacity throughout the rest of the effects. So. Great work. This doesn't make sense.

Anyway I hate the color here. The original has a great two-tone black smoke with bright blue glowing eyes, contrasting with Eben's orange Arts. In the skin they slapped an awful blue glow haze over them. This makes them just completely draw visual attention, while they don't match up with Ebenholz' aesthetic at all. if you could see the black, there would be a clear visual link between them, but... Nope. It's ONLY blue, motherfuckers.

Also, they passively emit triangles, which is the only time in this entire effect that the Arts = Geometric Triangles visual idea appears in the entire skin based around an arts caster. Yay for recurring game-wide motifs!

Shockingly, I hate the explosion. It's passable, it's fine. But the timing is absolutely awful. The original's feels like an explosion that is pulling the target in, but the skin's feels like an explosion followed by absorption. It makes it feel less like an explosion and more like a contrivance. Also, it spawns only like, four notes total, which is just so low. Please have more notes, you even have the musical staff, you're so close to having this look like musical arts. I also hate the random swirl of red. The goat didn't have any red in it. Why does this have red. Monochrome would have actually worked better, this is just a summon.

Part 4 - Sound of Silence

Eine Variation S3 features Ebenholz getting hoverhanded by a goat.

I wish I had any other way to put it. But he gets hoverhanded by a goat for the entire uptime of this attack.

What even is this thing? Obviously, it's the goat behind him in his splash art, but what is it? Is it the Witch King? That would make sense, but why is the Witch King's avatar blue? The Witch King has literally never been blue, he's always been associated as being red. Unless this isn't The Witch King, in which case, what the fuck is it then?

I hate this effect more than anything else in this game. The ghost looks absolutely awful. it is very blatantly just the art from the actual skin, slapped behind him with no regard for aesthetic consistancy. Or even regard for if the image is readable at the distance Arknights is played at. The goatghost.jpg is not animated at all, but the hands move up and down, which weirdly only further reveals how static the ghost is. Also the hands aren't animated outside of going up and down which is just so uncanny and uncomfortable. It just reveals how desperately they needed to have some animation to make it not look like absolute hot garbage, and they still failed.

After an entire skin of absurdly simplistic geometric shapes and basic ass textures, suddenly they think they can pull off some shit that looks like a granblue render. This doesn't even look in-line with the rest of the skin's effects, let alone with the chibi artstyle.

Now. Why I truly, truly hate this attack.

When you activate S3, all of Ebenholz' Charges become Elite charges. Meaning they all become blue.

The charges all finally become blue.

In the only part of the skin where you have a blue background.

I just. I can't figure out how you'd fuck this up this bad. If the Elite Charges were red, it would look like the fucking skin art, with the red notes on the pink staff. They'd stand out, or at least look fucking decent. How many charges does Ebenholz have? Oh I don't know THEY'RE FUCKING BLUE ON BLUE.

WHY. WHY ANY OF THIS. WHY ALL OF THIS. I'M IN HELL. THIS WAS MADE TO TORMENT ME PERSONALLY RIGHT

anyway I will give credit where credit is due. I actually quite like the trail when he casts his stocks in S3.

The slight orange two-tone and complicated trails add a lot of nuance and depth to the effect, and the glimmer is toned down to the point where I can see the diamond shape hidden underneath. There is one singular silver lining to this cloud. It could use more musical touches and less fucking sparkles but at this point I need to compliment something.

Finale - Why Do I Give A Shit

Eine Variation launched as part of the Bloodline of Combat skins that came out with Lone Trail. It released alongside Specter the Unchained's Born as One; my personal favorite skin in the entire game. It is a skin that perfectly conveys Laruntina's love of natural beauty and Specter's love of poetry and recitation, bringing them together into poems reflected in a starry lake. The effects are serene and dreamlike, peaceful yet chaotic. It conveys who they are going into the future, who they are together.

Born as One is Bloodline of Combat at its best. Bloodline of Combat is at its best when it tells you something about who this character is at this part of their life. How they change, how they grow, how they look at the world in this point of their life. This is the story that good effects can tell.

So I ask you: What story does Eine Variation's effects tell?

If this an Ebenholz who is growing further from the Witch King's legacy into his own man, then why does the avatar of the Witch King appear behind him? Why does the flavor text describe this as clothing worn by every Graf Urtica? Why does it not lean further into the synth aesthetic to separate himself from the classical music of Leithanien?

If this is an Ebenholz who is currently stuck within the confines of nobility, why is he not wielding the dice associated with his title as Graf Urbica? Why do his fucking goats have synths instead of traditional instruments? Why is the Witch King the wrong color?

And most importantly to all of this: Why are all the shapes so simple?

Yes, Arknights' Arts are geometric. They're usually represented by simple triangles. This is true. But think about who Ebenholz is.

Ebenholz is not a simple and elegant person. Ebenholz is a man who nails complicated, difficult, strange flute solos, but who fails to do simple rhythms and scales. He excels at the complex, the elaborate, and the detailed, and fails at the simplistic. This is always how Ebenholz has been.

So a skin full of simple shapes, easy language, and flat colors... Isn't how he'd fight. It's not who he is. It's not how he'd act. It doesn't just feel wrong, it feels like it's not made for him.

I don't just hate this skin because I think its effects are bad. I mean, I do, and they definitely are.

I hate this skin because it just... Fundamentally does not understand who Ebenholz is. And it definitely does not understand why he is so special.

[charlidos]

Now's the time make an essay-ishly long post about the whole business with Stuart Townsend and his brief time as Aragorn.

There's probably really no great mystery here, just a casting gone wrong. But I'm still intrigued by how this happened and how it affected the rest of the cast both by the loss of Stuart and the addition of Viggo. And how this became just another in the long line of the lore of the rings.

In the summer of 1999, Viggo Mortensen and his son Henry set out on a 15,000-mile road trip to visit family and friends across the United States. At the same time, Irish actor Stuart Townsend was just auditioning for the role of Aragorn in The Lord of the Rings. But, after the film went into production and filming began in New Zealand, Peter Jackson discovered that the 26-year-old actor was not working. “Every time I told Peter about it, he said, ‘Well, make him a little older,’” says Lord of the Rings makeup artist José Perez. Each time he added more and more gray hair. into Townsend's beard, but to no avail. “We tried to create a resemblance artificially. But both of us, Stuart and I, knew very well that someone older was needed for this role . On the morning of the third day after filming began, it was announced that Townsend had to leave the set. “Some of us were very upset ,” recalls Elijah Wood. “ Just imagine that you spent two months with someone and thought that you would be together for at least another year and a half. We managed to become fast friends. Right or wrong, for In any case, this decision was traumatic for us . "

Orlando had time to become quite close with Stuart. It makes me wonder how he felt when Stuart was suddenly cast out. It was Orlando's first big project, so I imagine it might have made him nervous about being chucked out himself.

Also makes me wonder how he felt when Viggo arrived instead. Someone so different, older, seasoned. And maybe not immediately a good friend. Of course, that changed quite drastically! I just don't know how long it took before Viggo became the light of his life.

Viggo says he only met Stuart the once:

I wrote to him when I arrived in New Zealand to start work on the trilogy, but I never met him. I did finally come across him one night in Los Angeles in late 2001. Driving on Santa Monica Boulevard - with Orlando Bloom as my passenger, as fate would have it - I pulled up to a red light. It turned out Stuart was stopped next to us. Orlando, who knows Stuart fairly well, spotted him. We rolled down our windows and greeted each other. He seems a very good person and is obviously a serious artist.

First, I just love the image of Viggo and Orlando driving around in LA, just hanging out. Secondly, Viggo is being terribly diplomatic here; I imagine he never got any answer to that letter for one. And you know he would never have spoken a word to Stuart had not Orlando, exhuberant, friendly and full of joy, greeted him. I so wonder what went through Stuart's mind at that time. Seeing he wasn't happy about what happened. And here was Orlando, his former co-star, having the time of his life with his replacement. It must have been an awkward moment for everyone - except perhaps Orlando (who was enjoying his ride too much to notice). :)

Viggo:

Over the last few years, Stuart has met up with Elijah, Billy, everyone really. It was something that we all felt incredibly bad about, and it was something I certainly had to struggle with before accepting the role. It was just one of those things, where Peter felt he'd made the wrong choice – he became convinced Stuart was too young for the role – and he had to make a tough decision. It's the nature of the business, you know, and I would hope Stuart doesn't feel it was anything personal. I have nothing but admiration for him.

And it's quite obvious Stuart was NOT happy about how it went down. Even in 2005, he sounded rather bitter, tbh.

Two weeks ago I finally read an article where the filmmakers said, ''We were totally wrong about Stuart and we accept that it was our fault,'' which was so nice because I did get shafted up the a--. I was there rehearsing and training for two months, then was fired the day before filming began. I have no good feelings for those people in charge, I really don't. [Peter Jackson] wanted me and then apparently thought better of it because he really wanted someone 20 years older than me and completely different. There's always some good to be found in a bad experience. The guys who played the Hobbits are great people, and Orlando Bloom became a good friend.

And lastly, some only marginally interesting bits from Sean Astin's book:

And when [Stuart] was gone, he was simply gone. Vanished. There were no long good-byes. By the time we found out, he’d already left the country. I left a message for Stuart on his cell phone, but never heard back. Everyone was really worried about him for a while. There are certain elements of his persona that would have been interesting in Aragorn. There is a brooding romanticism to Stuart, a genuine pathos you see in his eyes; your heart wrenches when you see him on screen. Viggo is a much more austere actor, and that is reflected in the way he portrays Aragorn. His strength and beauty and sex appeal derive from some other place, so it’s pretty hard to compare the two of them.

I think almost everyone thinks it was one of the very best decisions of the production to bring in Viggo. I'm quite sure the films would not have been the same without him as Aragorn.

Just look at him.

(I stole this gif from somewhere, but now I don't know from where.)

And what's more, the fellowship wouldn't have been the same without Viggo as their captain. And you know I'm absolutely sure his arrival changed Orlando's life.