#also it's cold here so this is very in character (?)

[nightsinneon]

Sooo I was looking for the right kind of sonic 3 post to add my analysis in the tags to and this is it is. (no this won't be about john wick bc that would be an entire SEMINAR but listen)

((and buckle up for another lacanian analysis of this masterpiece kids and YES IT DOES CONTAIN SPOILERS SO U BEEN WARNED))

Let's look at shadow first - Sonic's literal dark doppelgänger - the perfect crystallization of the mirror stage but in its ~inverted~ form. He is what Sonic would have become had he encountered the traumatic Real(tm) of loss without the symbolic framework of family. In his most radical form he is the precise Lacanian distinction between symbolic and imaginary identification (aka Shadow IS that other - the fundamental split).

But if you think this is where this brilliant character profile ends THINK AGAIN bc one of the key shadow lines is “the light shines even though the star is gone" and that is where we arrive at our first delicious paradox: it reveals this wonderful twist in the dialectic of desire and drive. The “star” - Maria - appears initially as that object-cause of desire but through Shadow's traumatic encounter with the Real(tm) of her death, this relationship becomes inverted into something far more fucked up: Desire transformed into drive through a sort of 'second death' - the death not just of Maria as a person but of the very symbolic framework that gave meaning to her loss.

So at first that “light” that still shines in Shadow's formulation is not the light of memory or mourning but rather the phosphorescent decay of desire itself, transformed into the cold mechanical circuit of drive - a kind of death-machine that operates beyond the pleasure principle.

And this, in return, mirrors the kind of destructive potential that is ALWAYS lurking beneath the surface of all of our… hedgehogian selves.

Shadow is, in this sense, what we cannot accept about ourselves: our inner death drive if you will, which seeks nothing less than the annihilation of all Symbolic order - yes this is indeed later on embodied by the literal eclipse cannon too. (I'll get to the cannon in a moment because MY GOD this movie left no metaphorical crumbs to gobble up on)

But aside from Shadow's character there are OF COURSE deeper ideological dimensions at work here:

Take the G.U.N. facility where Shadow was created (?) - a perfect example of the so-called 'Big Other' (aka the symbolic order that structures our social reality). The facility's transformation into a site of trauma perfectly exemplifies how the Big Other always contains its own point of failure - its own internal contradiction essentially. (which is also exemplified in the obstacle run they have to get past when breaking in and how every threat of violence is rendered meaningless with the mere push of a button or use of counter-tools)

NOW BACK TO THE CANNON, a perfect metaphor for ‘jouissance’ - an excessive enjoyment that threatens to destroy the subject. And ofc it is gramps Robotnik who has built it - the personified escalation of Eggman’s capitalist excess, a fellow manchild who is just as obsessed with technological control and then taken that one step further even to become the true embodiment of the symbolic order’s failure: its inherent perversion, making himself look ridiculous in his attempt of imposing order on an universe that refuses to be categorised. Gramp's desire to destroy Earth is thus not simply revenge, it is the pure drive toward jouissance in its most destructive form.

And is this not precisely what we find in our capitalism??? Aka a system that - in its blind drive for profit - threatens to destroy the very conditions of its own existence????

(also something something law of the father with these two absolute freaks)

BUT LETS MOVE ON TO THE FINALE

Bc that is when we’re truly traversing the fantasy - when Sonic must confront his own spectral double. Its the perfect staging of the fundamental distinction between desire and drive with these two right there: as I’ve mentioned before - Shadow is still caught in that pure circuit of drive here; his quest for revenge appears to be directed toward a goal (destroying G.U.N./the world to avenge Maria) but what he really ‘enjoys’ - and this is the paradox of drive - is the repetitive movement itself, the circular pattern of destruction (as we also see when he slamfists Sonic’s ‘dad’)

Bc drive doesn't care about reaching its goal; it finds satisfaction in the very failure to reach it. That’s why Shadow keeps repeating his trauma, circling around the void left by Maria's death.

LO AND BEHOLD - Sonic's intervention!

When he says that “(their) love for the people they have lost is more important than revenge", he is precisely articulating the structure of desire as opposed to drive. Desire always maintains a minimal distance from its object - it needs this distance to function.

That’s why Sonic can speak of Longclaw's loss without being consumed by it, he has symbolised the loss - integrated it into his own symbolic order, so to speak.

So when Sonic spares Shadow, he is showing him how to transform the endless circuit of drive (= Shadow’s compulsion to destroy) into desire (= Sonic’s ability to maintain a relationship with loss without being consumed by it)

THAT’S the difference between the aim and the goal; the aim of drive is simply to circle around the object, while desire actually maintains a relationship with lack itself.

Now I could go on about a MAJOR SPOILER post-credit scene here but I already lost the thread on this entire thing so.

Bottom line: go watch sonic the hedgehog 3.

john wick holding shadow the hedgehog like mary holding baby jesus

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “cuddly fluff” prompts 

Requested by: @linguinerosaline Request: “could you do some cuddly fluff prompts? for when characters are just having that early morning/late night fluff sess? also i love ur prompts smmm!!! thanks<3” 

“Wake up, lazy,” Character A murmurs as Character B groans into their chest and murmurs, “Mmm, two more minutes” back at them with that cute, half-awake tone of theirs, their arms tightening around Character A.

Character A crawling into Character B’s arm, a pout on their face. “I’m tired,” they whine, and Character B only chuckles as they hold Character A closer to them. “Then let’s rest for the night,” Character B says, planting a kiss on Character A’s forehead. 

Character A taking Character B’s phone away, mumbling “Enough phone time for tonight” so they can cuddle.

^ Alternatively, Character A and Character B go through their nightly TikTok together while cuddled up in bed.  (I do this with cat guy and then I get sleepy after a while of scrolling lmao)

Tickle fights turning into late night cuddling sessions (and maybe a bit of kissing here and there).

Character A who’s warm as fuck and can be used as a portable heater and Character B who’s always cold for some reason, so Character B uses Character A as their human heater on cold nights. (Character A is me and Character B is cat guy lmfao) 

Character B trying to go in for a kiss attack while cuddling and Character A laughing, playfully trying to get away from them. 

“The sun is too bright!” Character A whines, hiding their face in Character B’s chest while Character B giggles softly. “Yes, yes, it’s too bright for vampires like you.”

“I’m sick right now—” “Well, doesn’t matter because I’ve been in such close proximity to you, it’s inevitable I’m gonna get sick too. Now move over and make some room for me, I want to cuddle my sweetheart.” (Cat guy to me but in an exaggerated fashion) 

“Very warm and soft,” Character A murmurs sleepily into Character B’s neck. (My man’s does this to me all the time wlkefkewfm) 

Join my Discord server: Steaming Dumplings Nation

[vaaaaaiolet]

Anxiety left you sleepless all night. Leon figures his favorite dream of you might help.

mdni CIAO CHILDREN!! f / m smut w established relationship. put bluntly, leon fucks the worry out of you 😭 he talks you through sex by retelling a dream, tiny bit of character study, PRAISE!! TONS of fingering, 0.5 sec of cockwarming, light angst, p in v w/ a happy ending iykwim, aftercare and i love you's awww. also strawberries 🍓

a / n: req fic from my event!! i took the premise from isle of strawberries by edwin raphael and you can find a playlist for this fic here. motivational smut is a first for me LMFAO but i hope this works w your vision, anon <3 also PEE AFTER SEX YOU GUYS

word count: 2.5k // read on ao3

The 5 AM sun shines rays through the cracks in your plan. You thought you’d been convincing enough with your face pancake-flat against the pillow and your left arm thrown out of the blanket just so. You’d even made sure you had a foot poking into Leon’s side the way he always grumps about, but somehow, your boyfriend always seems to see right through you.

Just like now. 

A busybody poke on your shoulder. “Sweetheart,” follows a drowsy whisper, “what’re you doing?”

Sleeping since last night, thank you very much.

“No use playing possum. You haven’t moved an inch since we went to bed and you, ma’am, can’t sleep still to save your life. C’mere,” and you’re tugged to Leon’s side of the bed, the top of your head peppered with slow, sleepy kisses as he hugs an arm around your middle. “Did you sleep at all tonight?”

You clutch his forearm like a safety bar on a rollercoaster. “A little.”

“Enough?”

“Um…” 

Leon kisses his teeth. He’s usually the one on the receiving end of these questions, but he’s picked up a couple things from you. “Too hot? Too cold? Anything I can get you?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just can’t fall asleep.”

A quiet sigh from you, a hum of understanding from him.

“Because you’ve been thinking again.” He asks if you want to talk about it.

“It’s just a bad night,” you mumble, playing absentmindedly with his fingers. “Overwhelmed. Been getting into my head about everything I should be doing but don’t. I feel like I’m letting everyone down all the time.” 

In the champagne pink of the early morning light pouring through the bedroom window, your eyes trace the corded muscle of Leon’s arm around you – a testament to the strength it takes to do his job every day. There’s scars here, burn marks there, a plum-hued bruise.

Your words stumble to a halt. Embarrassed color rises to your cheeks. 

The matter is that scars from his missions to the ends of the earth litter the chest cradling your back right now. Leon must be sore and aching, listening to you whine like a child with too much food on your plate. What could be keeping you up at night when he shoulders your worst nightmares for a living? All while you lay cuddled and coddled? You don’t know the first thing about worry, the paralysis in his bones that must pale to yours.

Guilt creeps up your spine, and Leon frowns at your sudden silence. You’re retreating into a shell he’s called home too many times. He won’t have any of that with you. 

��Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he soothes, smoothing back your hair. “I’m still here. You don’t wanna talk right now?” 

You let go of his arm and burrow into your pillow, mumble about how you like sleeping late on weekends anyway.

A scoff sounds behind you. “Sleep late, my ass.” 

Leon’s arm comes circling back over your ribs in an instant. He squeezes you so tight to his chest that you feel his heart thump behind your back, and you can’t help the unexpected laugh that bubbles up your throat when he lets go. It’s his favorite reflex of yours.

“If you won’t talk, I will.” Leon presses a kiss to your cheek. “Gonna distract you for a bit, sweetheart. Humor me?”

“Hm?”

“I wanna tell you about my favorite dream. You’re in it.”

You can’t pretend that doesn’t catch your attention like lightning to a rod. Leon doesn’t dream much, not besides the nightmares that have him scrambling to throw off the covers in the middle of the night. 1998 hangs thick in the air of your bedroom some days, but for him to have a dream where you don’t die for a change? That’s new. 

So is his hand starting to creep under your sleep shirt, playful circles tracing on the soft skin below your navel. Part of his distraction strategy. A successful one, if the skip in your heart rate has anything to do with it.

“This okay?” he rasps.

More than. 

You reach behind, cradling his cheek to kiss him a proper hello; allow yourself an anticipatory inhale when Leon’s hand dives under the waistband of your shorts. It takes exactly three seconds for his middle finger to pinpoint the pearl of your clit, and he circles it twice, maddeningly slow, before sliding right under to trace along the seam of your entrance. 

Leon keeps the pressure light. He needs your head clear so you listen. 

“It always starts the same.” He shifts his hips so yours widen for him. “I’m standing in the middle of a huge field, a strawberry farm. There’s nothing around for miles, just rows of bushes full of berries and storm clouds in the distance. I find an empty basket in my hand.”

You imagine your mountain of a boyfriend holding a basket like Strawberry Shortcake. Adorable. “You dream about picking strawberries?” you giggle, arching your back to fit more comfortably against him, and your consideration earns you a searing dip of his finger into your pooling arousal. 

“That,” Leon chuckles, “and a nagging, sinking feeling that I should be doing something but I can’t.”

Oh. 

“Mhm. It hits me that I have to pick as many strawberries as I can before the storm rolls in, and I can’t even move, sweetheart.”

You swallow the returning lump in your throat. Push down a sigh that was building at the upward roll of his fingertip inside you. Leon tuts at your effort, coaxing the sound out anyway with a press of the spongy spot he knows is tucked at the back of your walls. You crumple at the delicious nudge; it leaves you open to welcome another finger into your warmth.

“But this is a good dream because,” Leon smiles at your next gasp, “then I see you at the edge of the field standing next to a little house, waving at me.” 

He scissors you open like he’s got all the time in the world. You clutch the corner of your pillow when you hear it through the comforter: the soft, rhythmic squelch of his fingers curling into your cunt.

Pretending he can’t hear your whimpered little curses as he coos in your ear, “There you go, listen to that,” Leon continues. “That’s when I start thinking. There’s no way I can save all these strawberries in time. You’re standing there, smiling at me without a clue there’s a storm brewing, and suddenly all I can think about is getting you into the house before you get hurt.”

His lesson becomes one of endurance the more he talks. The fingers pumping into your pussy melt your brain into mush that’s chanting, more, more! Exactly the root of your problem.

“So then I- oh, poor baby. This isn’t enough?” 

Shit. You forgot you talk in your sleep. And apparently when you get fingered too. 

“Guess I can’t blame you. I get distracted in the dream too, fuck.” There’s a pause, a sputtering stop to the lovely fullness when Leon pulls his fingers out and promptly sucks them off. 

Even a worm will turn; you certainly do. You whine Leon’s name when he makes a show of it, gazing at you with half-moon eyes and a boyish grin pulling at his lips. “What, it’s my fault you taste better than the strawberries did?” 

No, for leaving you hanging. You were paying attention — maybe a bit too much.

“It was you, by the way,” Leon chuckles, lifting the comforter so his knees can bracket your thighs. 

“I distracted you in the dream?” you gasp, sliding your hands up his shirt.

“In the best way, angel. You helped me get moving again.”

The peachy light of dawn caramelizes gold as Leon climbs on top of you. It doesn’t warm the bedroom quite yet; Leon makes sure the comforter is tucked over your bare skin after he finishes kicking off his pajama pants. He’s back to murmuring sweet nothings, gently tugging your shirt over your shoulders so he can kiss down the swell of your breasts. You’re so toasty under the covers that the goosebumps now speckling your chest are entirely his fault. 

“I remember you picking a few berries off a bush,” Leon looks fondly up at you under golden lashes, pressing a gentle kiss over your heart, “and you just looked so content eating them. I was fretting over saving the whole field and you were fine with a handful.”

You’re itching to ask: but the storm’s still coming, isn’t it? Thunder, rain, your aching cunt dripping onto the sheets right under him. 

Leon is all too happy to answer. 

One hand cradles the back of your head so he can drop his mouth onto yours, leaving the other free to slip under the blankets, rub consolation over the hood of your clit, and finally, finally, notch the swollen head of his cock at your entrance. You cry out, clutching at Leon’s hair when he sheaths himself in a buttery-smooth stroke – as if it could be any other way with how you’ve melted like chocolate in his hands. You both gasp at the stretch.

Leon’s jaw works as he kisses you, savoring you. Spit bridges your mouths in between split-second gulps of air. Your heart thumps against your ribcage like you’re hanging off a precipice, no difference in the dizzying drop that waits ahead. His length sits adjusting inside the squeeze of your plush walls. 

Leon’s sentences come out chopped and desperate as he alternates sucking berry-toned love bites between your breasts, and he admits, “I don’t save the all the strawberries.”

You wheeze as if you’ve dashed across the field yourself. “No?”

“Just need enough to last us the storm. Fuck the rest, figure it’ll grow back. Only need to focus on what matters – getting enough for you – so I pick a couple,” the thick of his cock is suffocating when it’s this still, “run,” Leon pants at the first snap of his hips against yours, outrunning the storm all over again, “and pull you inside the house before lightning strikes.”

Electric pleasure curls up from the base of your spine, spreads to your head and flickers down to your toes as Leon starts pounding into your pussy. No room in your chest for anxiety to linger when your eyes are rolling skyward. The edges of your vision melt into vignette as your lover sinks into you again and again. 

Tunnel vision. 

“Keep those pretty eyes open. Focus on what matters,” he repeats in a frenzied whisper, and the tunnel closes in.

All you see are Leon’s eyes. Smack dab in the middle of his blown out pupils is your reflection.

That’s it.

Coherency goes flying out the window with all your brainpower used up to connect the dots. “Leon, you-!”

“Tell me what you see, sweetheart,” he breathes sharply. “I know you can.”

You beg for mercy at each dig of his blunt cockhead. “Me, I get it, fuck! Please- just let me come!”

Course he can, he just has to drill something else into you first. 

“Need to hear you say it,” Leon grits. Nips at the base of your neck as your nails claw stinging holds on his shoulders. “Shit, I’ll make you see stars, don’t worry, I just need to – oh, you’re so fucking tight! – get it in your head. You can’t shut down on me.”

You thrash under him, make more space for bruising kisses to bloom up your neck. “But you’ve had it worse,” you sob out, overwhelmed. 

“How else do you think I know?”

He’s not letting you head off into your own storm alone. Not when you’ve saved him from his.

“Tell me you’ll let me in next time you get in your head, and I’ll make you come. I’ll make you come so fucking good, baby,” Leon hisses, stealing one last kiss from your panting lips. 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

“I will.”

And you ought to thank your lucky stars your levees don’t hold. 

It starts with spiraling cracks. Leon reaching down to press his thumb over your swollen clit. One shaky thrust away from dislodging the last brick holding you together. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flutter of your cunt, choked breaths torn from his throat when the silken clutch of your walls sends him into that final crescendo. 

Leon’s fraying at the edges, obsessive in how rolls his thumb at the bundle of nerves that make you shriek his name, and you, hand in hand with him, finally let the swelling tsunami in the pit of your stomach topple your walls. 

Turns out he’s right. Stars explode across the night sky when your eyes squeeze shut. 

You can’t pay attention to much except the rolling tide of pleasure. Leon’s soon spilling into you, his brow pinched as he blindly works his spend into your cunt under the covers. His forehead glistens with sweat, hell, your baby hairs are a dripping mess, but strangely, you think you’ll spend the rest of your life chasing this warmth again. 

Your heart’s never felt more weightless. 

Glowing seconds sail by. Leon’s shaking arms eventually give way and he collapses onto your chest. You let out an “oof!” at the drop. 

“And then the dream ends,” you hear him sigh, eyelids fluttering shut.

About time, you think, smiling as you brush a thumb over his cheekbone. “Then you wake up?”

“No.” Leon cracks open a sapphire eye and grins. “Sometimes we do this.”

In the little hou- Oh. “Fuck you,” you laugh.

“It’s my favorite for a lot of reasons!” 

He sits up, keeping his touch featherlight when he pulls himself out from between your candied thighs. Tiny aftershocks jerk your thighs once, twice, and Leon takes the time to whisper soft apologies when he reaches for a tissue on the bedside table. 

“I meant it back there, y’know?” he hums, gently wiping off the mess between your legs. “I hate seeing you so hard on yourself.”

“It just feels like I’m making a big deal out of nothing. Especially when you’ve been through worse,” you mumble, picking at the covers.  

The tissue gets tossed into the trash, and Leon shoots you a small smile. “Worse to you, maybe. To me, the worst thing I’ve seen is watching you lose your spark and not being able to help.”

“You really think so?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I love you.”

So you remember your promise. 

You tell him you love him too, no more secrets to keep in your head. The bedroom blooms warmer than you remember it ever being, a little slice of summer straight out of both your dreams.

You remember the strawberries from the farmer’s market in the kitchen, and that Leon makes killer Sunday pancakes.

You remember how much you love afternoon catnaps with your limbs tangled between his. Infinite possibilities pile high like the papers on your work desk. So much to get started.

Focus on what matters. The rest will grow back.

You turn the other cheek, and kiss your lover on the mouth.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[evieelyzabethh]

hiii i was wondering if you could do platonic Mel x reader headcanons? (like theyre friends and reader is on the council???)

thank youu and have a lovely day💗

omggg thank you! i always worry that everyone skips the mel sections. there is not nearly enough love for her, and she is literally my fav character

Contrary to popular belief, Mel is not a cold person in the slightest. She is certainly a bit hesitant to affection and softness, but it isn't unwelcome. When she first arrived in Piltover, freshly cast out by her own mother for her aversion to violence, she is very off balance. You don't become the richest person in Piltover in such a short period of time by being friendly, wealth is won through strategic kindness and an ability to play the long game.

It would be hard to crack that exterior at first, partially because she expects that everyone else is playing the same game she is. She thinks that the friendship is less soft and more professionally symbiotic. You scratch her back, she scratches yours kinda thing. And it's no reflection of who she thinks you are, she's not even aiming to form any personal judgements or get to know you outside of work, but politics is a performance. How genuinely you play your role is of little importance to her, as long as it benefits you both.

This being said, you are far more tolerable than the rest of them. Besides actually being her age, she respects the approach you have, you are always forthright with your goals, even if the plans you have to achieve them are under the table. You're consistent and she appreciates this. Though she understands the charade of smiles and civility, she knows that most of these people don't care about much other than keeping things exactly the way they are.

Early on in her journey in Piltover she doesn't care much about the fate of the Zaunites, this isn't her home, and that instability is one she is largely ignorant to and doesn't believe it's her responsibility to fix. She does want change. Is this desire to make waves to prove a point to her mother overseas, initially yes, but the point still stands that she wants to do something. That may be what she likes about you most. Not only that you want change, but you want it for yourself. You are here to represent your family, but you are so much more than a name. She admires that you want a legacy of your own, that your morals are your own, that your goals work toward a vision that you dreamt.

While she has Elora to remind her of home, she has you to help build her future in Piltover and figure out what she actually wants. As she warms up to you, you have somewhat of a mentor/apprentice type relationship, though far less formal. Besides teaching her of the culture, what happens in the Undercity, and your personal thoughts and opinions on the cycles of violence, you learn about Noxus. You learn about all the places she'd want to take you to, the difference in politics, how much more aggressive it is.

Mel is someone who usually keeps a calm and cool exterior but being friends with you allows her to break it down. Especially after days where she begins to wonder what she's even doing here, days where she just feels like a pawn still being moved around the board by her mother. She's good at the politics, but it's tiresome, still having to constantly play by someone else's rules. It dawns on her when you are the only person she can think of while sobbing alone in her all to big room that maybe you aren't just some work acquaintance.

Now that the very long introduction is out of the way, Mel is such a hugger. She is very physically affectionate; it's her way of catching up on all she missed out with her mom. She's the type to cradle your head in her hands and rub your back

She is also the 'break up with your boyfriend' friend. If your partner is not giving you what you deserve, she really doesn't see the point in continuing the relationship. She is truly baffled by the excuse 'but we've been together for x years, I can't leave them'. YES YOU CAN! AND YOU SHOULD! People are replaceable, she does not believe in remaining in the company of those you don't like, especially if it doesn't benefit you.

She was also robbed of a traditional sort of girlhood, so she adores those kinds of hangouts. So many sleepovers, except instead of junk food and soda, its wine and fancy charcuterie boards. Self-care nights involve super expensive skincare and a terrible movie playing. If you two get drunk enough, you may even get into a pillow fight and leave the room covered in down feathers and empty satin pillow covers.

Assuming she's still dating Jayce, you definitely know a bit too much about him. It's very hard looking him in the eye after being told about the time she caught him shirtless in a stupid pair of heart covered boxers.

She gifted you one of her paintings for your birthday one year and almost cried when you started crying. Her art was always more of a hobby to air out her big emotions and her heart practically bursts with happiness every time you enter a room. You hang it right over your bed for protection in your dreams and it makes her beam with pride that you love it so much.

She is also such a good gift giver in general. I think she'd be super into journaling and would have like a million of those things, one of them dedicated to her friends and their interests.

Speaking of her journals, I think she'd have one for different goals. For example, one for all the books she wants to read for the year and dedicated pages to rank them and give her opinions. Maybe one for all the places she wants to visit one day. You two would totally swap books and have a friendly competition with your reading goals

[therobotmonster]

I'm one of the artists mentioned previously, specifically the one who does comics (comic) via a lineart-composition-extraction process (full tutorial).

And while having a specific end-point is often my process, I wanted to add that I also enjoy the discovery/brainstorming aspect (That, and tinkering with image generators is a very effective stim for me.)

As to how do you throw a temper tantrum with an image generator?

I don't know. My art doesn't work that way. I tend to create in the aftermath of my emotions when I'm processing them rather than during the event when I'm having them. Attempting to create while I'm in those spaces creates nothing but frustration.

But how does my creative process with AI work?

TyrannoMax, my fauxstalgia-AI-dino-anthro project, uses a blend of the two approaches for my character designs. For most of the "mains" I had a sold or at least semi-solid idea of what I want them to look like. Some, like the Cold Shoulder, are old character concepts I've just updated, some are new ones that were designed to play well with the generator models I have access to...

Some, but not all.

The Generative Duet in Action

Now, the "idea first" method doesn't always take the avenue you expect.

Ape-Tomic Pyle and the whole Tmax concept kind of evolved in the same way. I was making a fake comic cover to try out the compositing process. I'd already done some mini-comics with Dr. Underfang and Mrs. Nautilus, and a very sketchy barely-elaborated on set of screenshots for a 90s movie called "TyrannoMax" where Underfang and Nautilus first showed up.

TyrannoMax, as a name, popped "TriceraBruce" into my head, and I was tickled by the goofy naming scheme. I wanted him to fight something delightfully silver age, so a radioactive ape was the #1 choice.

The US military tests where they marched recruits into mushroom clouds in Nevada were fresh in my mind from another project, so there was my origin story, but the robot did not want to put him in fatigues and instead went for more of a track suit.

But the monkey in the track suit won me over as I played with prompts to get the right look. The suit felt like something scientists post-mutation event would give him to wear and was very 70s.

He needed a name, and my pun-brain put together Atomic Pile, an Ape, and Gomer Pyle into "The Ape-Tomic Pyle." The idea of an extremely violent and revenge-minded creature with an "Aw shucks" personality came together there.

The pompadour was there because anyone writing comics in the 70s would have associated thuggery with greasers, from having been a kid or teenager in the 50s. Old school comics covers usually had dialog and callouts on them, so I went with some traditional import-issue-of-the-70s discussion, and parodied marvel's trade dress.

Once I had the comic cover done, however, that informed the later Wally Man-Moth origin story and the TyrannoMax lore. The series originating in the 70s meant it couldn't have originally featured the meteor-extinction hypothesis, as that wasn't proposed seriously until the 80s.

The majority theory at the time was a deep-space gamma burst, so taking the "how would a 70s comic writer do this" tack, I combined the "blast of radiation from space" and the concept of people's shadows being burned into buildings after an atomic blast, and boom, it's not a hollow earth, but a hollow-earthy pocket universe accessed through "fossilized time."

One off gags, fun unplanned prompt output, if it sparks an idea it goes in the soup. Milhouse was a nameless background character until Bart needed someone to trade lunches with in a Butterfinger commercial, Brainiac is a robot because a toy company sued DC over trademark infringement, you know the drill.

Having a movie in the 90s means a cartoon in the 80s, so everyone gets an action-figurey redesign, including our radioactive ape pal.

The entire process is very wandering, and if I went into the video or music stuff we'd be here for another color of the sky.

But the short version is it draws on the processes I've always used in other situations. One of my favorite hobbies is thinking of how I'd reboot or fix projects that were promising, and if generative AI is anything it is a fountain of interesting idea-combinations that need a lot of fixing.

So what I get out of the process and what process I use varies by the situation, but I see them as extensions of my traditional art processes.

Because I've been doing all of this for years with art elements for my whole artistic life. Such as these comic pages which I made in a very similar way to the Wally Manmoth origin pages, only difference is the source of the public domain images.

The question of how I sort through my source image folders when having a temper tantrum never came up.

so honest question, those AI bros who do the 'prompt to image' thing - do they get the meditative 'throwing my whole mind into it' mindful zen out of it? the feeling of challenge and growth and even getting your feelings out of you along with the images in your head?

cus i feel like that just wouldnt do it for me ykno? throwing some words into a generator wouldnt be enough for me, but with how possessive some of them seem to be of 'their' 'work' ...

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤAs cold as your heart ･:*:｡𓏲ּ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤDr. ishida uryu x f! reader

Chapter 2: sorrow. what happened three days prior their encounter?

❄ a/n: yep, I created a loop. But believe me it is worth reading to understand a little more about Uryu's inner turmoil. I know the cliffhanger is basically the same, but don't panic! you'll have the update before the year ends (haha) ❄ tw: not much, VERY angsty for now. I am taking my sweet time because I really wanna explore Uryu's feelings. He is a very complex character that deserves all the love. I want this to be a sweet love story that will -of course- contain smut as we go further into it. btw: Ichihime mentioned, they are getting married soon. I must warn you, there will be a "wedding chapter" so if you don't like the ship (i am just playing with the canon) you've been noticed. ❄ read here ➡ Chapter 0/1: back in town

Tossing and turning, that’s how his old bed found the young doctor. Uryu’s deep blue orbs fixed into the ceiling of his room, long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, blurry vision as his glasses had been left aside. 

Coming back feels painful; from memories of his mother kissing his forehead goodnight, from the day she was gone… and then, your smile. That beam he hurt; he broke. 

“She hasn’t left?”  “Hm… how could she? You idiot”

Ryuuken’s words torment Uryu’s mind; why didn’t she move on? Why did she have to stay? 

He clenches his fist, hitting the wall next to his bed. His eyes, shifting to the dance of falling snow on the window above, fill with tears of immense sorrow. 

Sudden images of the past arrive, to make it all even worse… a teenager's love, the thrill of the first kiss, the pain of the last.

“Name…” the current king of the Quincy exhales, wishing he hadn’t come back. 

A sudden sting hits his body; something far from auto control takes over, making him stand up and grab his glasses. 

Uryu flops down his bed back; “I can’t… I can’t go after her, there is no need to turn her life to shambles again…” 

Like that, fighting against selfishness, he fell to the side. No emotion showing on his pale façade, but inside, for the very first time, he damned the Quincy cross burned in between his pecs… 

The scent of sweet bread, freshly baked, wakes Uryu up. “Young master, breakfast is ready” the soft voice of a woman eases the sleepiness away. 

Right, back at home there is domestic service. How could he forget? Especially him?

“I’ll be ready in a moment” he comments, with raspy voice, and sleepy lids. Taking his glasses, he is able to see around, it’s painful to remember he is back in town. 

As the young doctor goes down the stairs, he can tell the atmosphere feels different. More than one reiatsu waits for him at the dining room; in fact, he is able to tell who those spiritual pressures belong to. 

“ISHIDA-KUN!!!”  “Ishida… you are back” 

A blast of love surrounds his thin frame, as the burnt orange princess weaves her arms around him. 

It’s always comforting, almost like healing, to feel Orihime’s hug. It is also comforting to see Ichigo’s deep eyes; a friend whose blood hides the same powers as his own, a friend who never gave up on him. 

“Hi…” Ishida stutters, with hints of shame and guilt. 

“We’ve missed you so much! And, you are just back in time! We’ve come to bring you something special” Inoue chimes, showing him a little envelope in between his pastry knitting hands. 

Uryu smiles, knowing exactly the content of such envelope. “Finally, Kurosaki. I’m glad you took the courage to propose” 

For a moment, and after a couple of -typical- discussions between Ichigo and him, the morning felt like everything was ok. This, until the inevitable question arrives… 

“Have you seen (Name), yet?” 

“No… and I don’t think I should. In fact, I won’t”

Orihime felt taken aback, how come after all this time? She knows more than anyone how much you’ve been waiting, patiently, for him to come back. 

“But… but she…”

“I am sorry Inoue. Those are my last words… I won’t”  

The ginger couple finally leaves. Inoue’s eyes still sad, Ichigo’s telling Uryu that the conversation isn’t over just yet. 

Uryu comes back inside; the freezing cold outside makes his nose a little red and runny. He fixes his glasses still thinking of you, of how less of a man he feels. 

He drags himself back to his room, remembering the little box he kept under his bed. It took a lot for him to leave it there and not take it with him when he left, but he decided to forget about those old memories. 

With little hopes of finding the box after so long, he kneels down and probes under the bed. The tip of his fingers reaches for something, and almost like regretting it, he takes the box. 

Dust flies around as he opens it to find a picture of both; still young, two high schoolers. Your arms surround him from behind, a smile as big and bright as the sun. His body, tense… oh, but his eyes… so full of love. 

Behind the old polaroid, something written by you:

Quincy boy, I have a crush on you. 

(Name) 💖 ~

Uryu sighs, and all those tears he couldn’t shed up until now, were now sprouting like waterfalls. He couldn’t notice, but the day went by with him crying, with him feeling miserable, with him carving the Quincy cross into the flesh of his palm… 

Two days passed by almost flying. Uryu didn’t notice, though. He only focused on two things; being miserable and ultimately fighting his father as he insisted on him working on his hospital from then on. A word that should describe Uryu the best could be “stubborn”

Kurosaki: pick you up at 10.

Uryu: for what? 

Kurosaki: bar. Chad coming after training. 

Uryu: k-

“I’m amazed you aren’t wearing a white coat” Ichigo jokes about Uryu’s clothing. He hasn’t stopped loving white, but he still thinks wearing white around his friends might make them uncomfortable. 

“Thank you, I’ve been well” Uryu answers, as sarcastic as always when it comes to his friend -and probably more like a brother- Ichigo. 

“I’m glad, because we need to talk” the substitute Shinigami fights back. “Inoue has been eating my brain with that, and I frankly think the same… what the fuck is going on with you and (Name)?” 

Uryu sighs, his forehead plastered against the cold window of the passenger’s seat. “Nothing. It’s been six years. I haven’t spoken to her in all that time, what is supposed to happen?” 

Despite trying to sound serious, those words only came as miserable to Ichigo. And he remembered how dyed-in-the-wool his friend can be… perhaps a couple of beers will make him speak, that or a fight. It isn’t new, they have been fighting since the day both met. 

Chad arrives once both have found a table on a very crowded bar near Urahara’s shop; they soon start to chat about their current lives, leaving at least for now, the “women” topic. 

However, a couple of minutes past midnight, Ichigo’s phone screen lights up. 

“INOUE 🍩 calling” 

Ichigo immediately picks up; it kinda startles Uryu, when he left Ichigo still acted a little immature towards Orihime. However, now, he showed a soon to be husband attitude. 

“Babe, are you ok?” Ichigo asks, his eyes shining when the voice of his soon to be wife let him know she was ok. “Now? yes, sure. Don’t worry, I’m going. Yep- no alcohol. Mhh, yes, Chad and Ishida” 

In a way, deep inside, Ishida feels absolutely jealous. The fact that his friend is able to talk to the woman he loves so freely, so sure. The fact that he is able to protect her, the fact that he is able to hug her to sleep every night. 

“Inoue asked me to pick her up. She went to have dinner before new year’s with the “Bakers Club”” he lets them know, and both Chad and him stand up. Uryu blinks a couple of times before following them, his friends have grown up and now he feels like he is an immature kid. Of course he would run to help Orihime, but she isn’t in danger, this is just the “daily living” of an adult couple who is about to marry. 

Chad and Ichigo chat about the following boxing matches as they walk to the car, while Uryu stays silent. He feels like an outsider, and wonders if he will be able to keep up with the speed of this new world. 

“Guys, I’m walking home” the Quincy mumbles.

“You sure?” Chad asks, noticing Ichigo already frowning at his friend’s decision. 

“Yeah, don’t worry. I need some fresh air” Uryu waves them goodbye, he doesn’t really want to give further reasons nor discuss his actions with them. 

Both friends look at each other with a worried expression but ultimately let him go. 

“He is not ok…”

“Nor he will until he sees her” 

Winter creeps through Uryu’s hands, he hates the fact he didn’t bring gloves. But he hates having come back the most. 

Closer, the blueish lights of the Karakura General Hospital shine. He takes a swift look at his father’s hospital, the one he is being pushed to attend as a doctor. Full of questions, he asks himself whether it would be good or not to become a pediatrician there knowing that would mean staying in Karakura to live. Is he ready to live there again? to potentially prescribe meds to your future children? 

The image of you having babies only made him more depressed. It is true Ryuken told him you haven’t moved on, but what exactly he meant with that he didn’t know. 

The sudden vibration of his phone breaks his attention from his miserable thoughts. A text from his father letting him know he is about to finish his shift. 

Ryuken > “I’m about to head home, did you eat?” 

Him > yep, walking home rn 

Uryu sighs; it seems as if Ryuken wanted to act more like a father than before, though he is still a little hesitant to engage in such mental energy drawing activities. 

A cold drop hits his pointy nose; a little snowflake melts on his pale skin competing for which one is whiter. 

“Ah… I’m gonna catch a cold, definitely” Uryu grunts, looking up at the blackest sky. 

“Shit, shit, shit” you swear, running under the falling snow, learning that your Karakura General Hospital nurse uniform isn’t warm enough. The shift is over, and you insisted on going home walking instead of letting Ryuken take you… now, you are actually regretting it. 

You bump into a man’s silhouette, falling back on your ass into the sidewalk. 

He turns around quickly.  The time freezes, as both word “sorry”

Those blue orbs; his black hair; the shine of his silver glasses. His handsome features, his hands, everything you’ve always loved, right in front of you. Again. After so long. 

“You- You are back. Uryu you are back” you whisper, standing up in a matter of seconds and running towards him. Like attacking him, you hug him with such strength that could crush his bones. “six years, six years… I’m so happy to see you, I’m so happy to- to-“ 

He pushes you away, detaching your body from his in an unfriendly manner. 

You are out of words; why would he…? 

“(Name), don’t do this” he spits; the venom in his words reminds you of the time he sided with Yhwach. 

You remain silent, searching for words everywhere inside you with no positive outcome. 

“Move out of the way, please” he continues, trying to pass by you, avoiding eye contact. His hair falls on his side, covering -conveniently- the incipient tears flooding his eyes. 

You watch him walk by, walking away from you… your legs fail you, letting your weight hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. 

“Stop, stop please… stop ignoring me! This is hurting me!” you plead, knees hitting the ground, drawing blood out of them, allowing the cold cement underneath to soak into that crimson fluid of life…

[to be continued]

you can: ➡ read chapter 0 if you haven't yet ➡ wait for the next chap

[lynnlyrae]

what are your VnC and PH kinnies and why? :)

hi anon! Thank you for your question💚

From VnC characters I’d say Luna, Riche and Olivier. 

Luna is just!! everything I want to be!! Also the way they seem kinda other-worldly on first glance but are silly and vibing when you get to know them. I literally was described like this by multiple people. 

Olivier is kinda the same. He appears detached and cold, especially next to extraverted sunshine boy Roland, but five seconds later it becomes obvious he actually has potential to be as unhinged as Roland.

Riche is just so me with her fascination of history and random info dumping onto people she likes idk I get her. 

Fun fact: I wanted some canon dhamp content so badly I even dreamed about reading a Riche centric chapter where she met Kresnik (it happened on December 7, 2023). Soon after that Jun released chapter 61.2. Which was very Riche centric. And had Kresnik mentions. And also felt like death flag for Riche, but still. It happened!

Now to Pandora Hearts.  

Here I’m definitely going with Leo. I just saw him and went “yep that’s me”. Then… he became plot relevant… And, well, I too would commit atrocities if Elliot died as a direct result of my attempts to save him. So yeah Leo is on the list… 

Now that I think about it, early Leo and Riche have some similarities in their vibes. 

Vincent also resonates with me lately, which is funny because I was a Break girlie during first read. Oddly, this happens to all Break girlies I know so below see real life observation:

[lilac-sweet]

Varric might still be alive and here’s why:

So this is going to sound like massive amounts of copium, but hear me out:

Why does the veil not collapse immediately after Elgar’nan’s death?

It is made out of and tied to the life force of the Evanuris, so with all of them dead it should fall, right? But it doesn’t - it holds long enough for Solas and Rook to have a heart-to-heart. So what gives? Are there some leftover life force from the other Evanuris ? Are they not as dead as we are led to believe? Falon’Din’s owl statues are certainly hinted at being somehow important since we can happen upon multiple of them and see they are tied to some sort of weird magic.

Or has the dagger preserved a fragment of those it has killed (just like it did with Mythal), and that is what’s keeping the veil up? Since all it takes to be tied to the veil is a cut (apparently), it begs the question: can a mortal be tied to the veil?

Lyrium is such an interesting aspect of Dragon Age lore, and it seems to work as a vessel for spirits: it is what the ancient elves used to bind themselves to the physical world; it is what held Mythal’s spirit fragment inside the dagger; it might be what the dwarves are actually referring to when they say they “return to the stone”; it might also be why lyrium sings, and “Isatunol” would be the accumulation of dwarven spirits flowing through the rivers of lyrium within the Titans.

In that way, Varric might actually have been the first dwarf in a long time to “return to the Stone” - and what happens to Harding when she touches the dagger? She becomes something very much like a titan! Her magic might literally be Varric’s spirit coursing through her body - her body does become lyrium-infused as you see in her romance.

So is it possible a piece of Varric lives on in Harding? Absolutely. It would also be another explanation on what the Varric who visits Rook in the prison of regret actually is. If he is tied to the veil he might have had access to the prison somehow. Solas’ blood magic should have ceased by now, since any further use would be unnecessary and cruel (which would be out of character for Solas), and the only other explanation for him being there, that I can think of, would be as a guide that Rook has conjured up subconsciously and is part of the magic of the regret prison just like whichever companions you chose to sacrifice.

Helping to hold up the veil while Rook deals with Solas just sounds like something Varric would totally do (and I can’t help becoming a bit misty-eyed thinking he might be there with us in the final hour) - of course it might be Ghilan’nain’s fragment doing the heavy lifting here, but it’s not nearly as poetic.

In the ending scene we see a picture of Varric in the skies: it might be a way to honor the end of his story arc, or it might be a way to imply him watching over us still (maybe both).

It is going to be interesting to see which direction the next Dragon Age game will take: the Executors and Those Across The Sea seem to have a connection to not only Qunari and the Elven Gods, but to death as well. We hear how everything turns cold around the executors and hear the same whenever we meet a lich or Vorgoth in the Necropolis. We are also told the Watchers guard many secrets, so who knows, maybe the next game will explore more about what happens after death to the inhabitants of Thedas, and in that (lyrium) vein maybe if we’re really lucky we’ll get to dive more into dwarven lore as well.

[st4r-th0ughts]

Mk11 characters x Shinnok’s spawn! GN reader intros.

Note- Comments and reblogs are more appreciated than just likes!

tw/cw: possible ooc, may be more inaccurate, implication of suicidal thoughts in kuai’s first part, and all platonic!! Reader has enough bs in general in sub zero and night wolf’s parts (valid crashout)

Character list (part 2): Frost, Noob Saibot, Sub Zero (Kuai Liang), Scorpion (Hanzo Hasashi), Nightwolf. Kuai Liang and Hanzo were your appointed god-uncles, so yeah, you turning over to the darkness makes them kinda sad :((

Reader’s background: Reader is Liu Kang’s adopted child, a young one he found between Netherealm and Earthrealm. Kung Lao absolutely adored Liu Kang’s child, his very own nibling. As did almost everyone else when they met you.

It is revealed in Mkx, reader was the spawn of Shinnok, made to take his place should he ever perish. Raiden, who was now so obsessed with Earthrealm’s safety, even if it means attacking and shunning all those he deemed a threat, he banished reader from Earthrealm, demanding all those who ally with him to kill reader upon sight.

Now, in Mk11 after the time merger, reader can’t bring themselves to trust anyone. Not after being betrayed, left behind, and hunted. Living in an abandoned mansion, alone, in the dark.

you’ve unlocked a new entry!

If they want someone to villanise, they’ll get what they want. You were Shinnok’s Spawn, no? You are evil incarnate’s descendant, destined to take over the realms. You won’t be weak anymore.

That’s what you want. That’s what you want…

——

Frost- You most definitely won’t become a slave like her.

༘⋆ ❅ ･:*:｡ ❆ (1)

F- You are foolish to refuse Kronika’s offer, NAME, she would have made you stronger.

R- And become a robotic slave like you? No thanks.

F- She will make us both into the greatest warriors.

༘⋆ ❅ ･:*:｡ ❆ (2)

R- Giving up your soul for a mere body or betraying the Grandmaster….I can’t imagine which is worse.

F- He held me back!

R- He was training you so you could attain the position you now desperately crave.

༘⋆ ❅ ･:*:｡ ❆ (3)

F- We both crave for the respect we deserve.

R- Unlike you, I didn’t betray my mentor in favor of… that body.

F- I’ll kill you here to prove that I’m worthy of it!

༘⋆ ❅ ･:*:｡ ❆ (4)

R- By the Elder Gods, you look like your parents dropped you on the head as a baby.

F- I’ll freeze the words off your tongue, insolent spawn!

R- Bring it on, ice cube.

༘⋆ ❅ ･:*:｡ ❆ (5)

R- Come with me back to Sub-Zero, Frost.

F- Since when did you do his bidding, outcast?

R- I owe him a favor. He also didn’t say you had to return unharmed.

༘⋆ ❅ ･:*:｡ ❆ (6)

F- Kronika wants to test your skills against me.

R- Psh. Tell her to piss off.

F- I’ll give her your head to prove that even Shinnok’s incarnate is not invincible against me.

༘⋆ ❅ ･:*:｡ ❆ (7)

F- I’ll freeze you till you turn blue from the cold.

R- Yes, Frost, you of all people should know negative temperatures, especially in such concentration, does that to flesh.

F- Ugh! I’ll silence your loud mouth!

༘⋆ ❅ ･:*:｡ ❆ (8)

R- I could never imagine betraying Liu Kang like you with Grandmaster Kuai Liang.

F- You did so with Raiden, you don’t get to judge me.

R- Raiden isn’t my mentor. He was my father’s, and I only respected him for that.

Noob Saibot- Undead abomination trying to get you to embrace your destiny… more fully.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ (1)

NS- Come back to your rightful home in the shadows.

R- The shadows embrace me, but I do not wish for them to keep their hands on me longer.

NS- The light does not welcome you like the darkness, child.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ (2)

NS- The Emperor and Empress want you to return home to rule by their side.

R- Fuck them, Bi-Han. They aren’t transferring my soul to be a revenant.

NS- I will execute you to bring you to them myself.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ (3)

R- Raiden still doesn’t shun Hanzo for what he’s done to you.

NS- That is expected of a god that killed us all.

R- One thing we can agree on for once.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ (4)

R- You of all people should know Kronika lies to everyone for her own gain.

NS- She offers me a new life and clan in the New Era.

R- Yeah. Trust the bald lady who was the cause of everyone’s injustices.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ (5)

NS- Liu Kang calls for your soul back.

R- He’s a undead fucker trying to kill me.

NS- It is the only way he can do with disciplining you.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ (6)

R- Death shan’t embrace me today.

NS- It is a merciful alternative to what I’m going to do.

R- Why? On the orders of my ‘father’?

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ (7)

R- Do you even have a shred of care for your brother?

NS- I disown him in every way he did me.

R- He did so for good reason.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ (8)

NS- You would have the honor of ruling the Netherealm.

R- I wish to not be damned royalty.

NS- Better than be rotting away slowly and shunned.

Sub-Zero- Well, goduncle, huh? Where was he when you needed support?

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚 (1)

R- Can your ice put me out of my misery?

SZ- It could. But I will not do so.

R- Ugh. The one time you could do me a favor, you choose not to.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚 (2)

R- You and Scorpion are my god-uncles?

SZ- Liu Kang wanted us to be there for you, should he perish.

R- Hah. Wonder where this… care, was, years ago.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚 (3)

SZ- Liu Kang wants you to return home to him.

R- I don’t have a home, Grandmaster.

SZ- Years of isolation has addled your heart.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚 (4)

SZ- Cease your war on Earthrealm, NAME.

R- Hell no, not when all of you were *begging* me to embrace the darkness within me.

SZ- It is one of the many mistakes I wish to atone for.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚 (5)

SZ- Return Shinnok’s Amulet to Raiden at once, NAME.

R- Hah, here to stop me before I decide to make you all suffer?

SZ- We will bring you back to the light.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚 (6)

R- I’ll save the Lin Kuei’s destruction for last, if it makes you feel better.

SZ- I shall not allow you to bring your Netherealm army into Earthrealm, NAME.

R- Your clan’s destruction shall be first, then.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚 (7)

R- I’m making sure Raiden doesn’t harm us all again.

SZ- So why wage war on Earthrealm?

R- Because those who stand, or stood by him, are my enemy.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚 (8)

SZ- Your soul is broken, NAME.

R- It is, and the only way it’ll heal is if Raiden pays.

SZ- We will find a way to make you whole again without bloodshed.

Scorpion- You don’t want to trust a former Revenant, not now, not ever.

🔥⚔️⊹₊🔥⋆｡°✩ (1)

S- You’ve suffered the loss of family and friends.

R- I don’t wish to waste time dwelling on them any longer.

S- The pain has poisoned your compassion and empathy.

🔥⚔️⊹₊🔥⋆｡°✩ (2)

S- Return Raiden’s amulet to him at once, NAME.

R- I don’t think so, uncle.

S- I don’t wish to harm my god nephew, stand down if you know what’s good for you.

🔥⚔️⊹₊🔥⋆｡°✩ (3)

R- Can’t say I blame you for defying Raiden.

S- It was my mistake of not listening to his words.

R- They never held water, Scorpion.

🔥⚔️⊹₊🔥⋆｡°✩ (4)

R- Sorry for beating up your chujin, but he attacked me first.

S- That does not excuse beating him within an inch of his life, NAME.

R- Okay, I went overboard, my fault.

🔥⚔️⊹₊🔥⋆｡°✩ (5)

R- So, Takeda and Jacqui, eh?

S- For someone who travels like a ghost in the shadows, I’m not surprised you know of it.

R- Heh, means Takeda’s gonna be my what, god cousin now?

🔥⚔️⊹₊🔥⋆｡°✩ (6)

S- Quan Chi tried to make a deal with you?

R- I beat him within an inch of his life before he decided to flee.

S- A wise choice, nephew.

🔥⚔️⊹₊🔥⋆｡°✩ (7)

S- My revenant tried to recruit you for Kronika?

R- Tried to bring him back, didn’t work so well.

S- We will restore him together, for the better.

🔥⚔️⊹₊🔥⋆｡°✩ (8)

R- Honestly, I’m glad as hell you aren’t evil anymore.

S- My fire burns just as strongly as my past self’s.

R- This… can mean either bad or good. I hope it’s the latter.

🔥⚔️⊹₊🔥⋆｡°✩ (Revenant Scorpion)

R- Kronika lies, Scorpion. She cares not for your clan.

R! S- She will restore my family back, NAME, as she will with yours, if you come with me.

R- I’m bringing you back to the real world, since you *did* save my ass a while back, I’ll return the favor.

Nightwolf- The Great Spirit may accompany him, but She can’t save you.

𓃥☾🐾✧𓃦 (1)

R- My quarrel is not with you, Nightwolf.

NW- Haokah wishes for me to bring you to him to save you.

R- Save me? Why now?

𓃥☾🐾✧𓃦 (2)

NW- The Great Spirit can save your soul, NAME.

R- I respect your beliefs and all, but please, she can’t help me.

NW- I promise, your heart will be much lighter.

𓃥☾🐾✧𓃦 (3)

R- Woah… so your mantle’s been passed down for generations?

NW- I hold the mantle given to me by the Great Spirit with pride, NAME.

R- Honestly, I respect that immensely.

𓃥☾🐾✧𓃦 (4)

NW- Kronika has tried to recruit you several times.

R- Whether it’s because her son was my creator, or it’s because she wants my power, I have no idea.

NW- It’s better to not dwell on it.

𓃥☾🐾✧𓃦 (5)

NW- Return what you’ve stolen from the Matoka, NAME.

R- Not yet, Nightwolf, I’m sorry.

NW- Your act of thievery does not do your reputation favors.

𓃥☾🐾✧𓃦 (6)

R- My life may not be dedicated to hating Raiden, but my current goal is to get vengeance.

NW- I see no difference, NAME.

R- When the Matoka is broken down, you’ll see.

𓃥☾🐾✧𓃦 (7)

R- Shinnok’s amulet gives me power. I’m not weak anymore.

NW- Your soul has always been one of the most resilient ones I’ve seen.

R- The darkness I’ve embraced gives me stronger resolve.

𓃥☾🐾✧𓃦 (8)

NW- Few have had such a tragic life as yours.

R- I wonder whether they’ve embraced their destiny.

NW- Fewer still embrace the darkness with open arms.

𓃥☾🐾✧𓃦 (Revenant Nightwolf)

R! NW- The Great Spirit abandoned the Matoka as Raiden has abandoned your people.

R- Don’t think this makes us buddies.

R! NW- When have I ever suggested that?

fin.

© st4r-th0ughts 2025, I don’t allow reposts, reuploads, translations, or copies.

[livefromthedas]

That Time Flirting Accidentally Worked

By ClickClickBoom

Chapter 3: Home

Summary:

Rook and Emmrich journey home to the Necropolis for some much-needed time away.

“You really live here?” She asked against the sound of their footfalls that skirted off of what always felt like an endless labyrinth of stone, “You know, I’ve had that nightmare. Repeatedly.” Rook’s gaze landed upon a series of bronze busts, visages of headmasters past and present, at the far end of the hall, and the grimace she pulled was practically loud enough to wake the dead, “Can’t say I cared for it.”

Notes:

I really do enjoy the chance to explore potential places and ideas surrounding characters' lives that we might not get to see in the course of a game, or a show. This is one of those explorations.

Thank you for reading and commenting, you guys know how to make a nerds day feel special ♥

Also! "Bärchen," for the curious, means "Little Bear" in German ♥

——————

Life as a Mourn Watcher was a surprisingly communal affair. Many members of the order lived and worked together from a shared dormitory well beneath the streets of the city of Navarra. It was a life and a line of work that had its members perpetually on call, often working in shifts to oversee the massive undertaking that was both the funerary rights and the protection of Navarra City (and beyond) from any ill workings of its own necromantic elite. It was an eternal vigil full of familiar faces who, for all of their differences and the varying roles they each played within the organization, had an intense devotion to traditions that both stabilized and enriched their entire culture. It was a life fully dedicated to the dead, and in a way, fully to each other, as well.

It had always surprised Rook, then, how very little she and Emmrich’s paths had crossed since her graduation.

She had heard word of his advancements all the time over the years. The release of his various thesis papers from one year to the next had become something of an annual event among the more academically inclined Watchers. His latest thoughts and theories were often groundbreaking, and they would inevitably serve as fodder for endless debates amongst members of the organization for months to come.

Professor Volkarin’s work had a steady and extensive influence on that of the Mourn Watch and had, quite frankly, for as long as Rook could remember. He’d had a hand in helping train many of them through his classes and lectures, and at least where Senior Watchers (perpetually above Rook’s own rank) were concerned he was a near constant fixture in helping keep the more dangerous aspects of their work a little more safe for those Watchers on guard. Yet… she’d rarely actually seen him, even in brief passing.

Rook had only recently discovered the reason why amidst one of countless late-night conversations and a little bit of curious prodding.

Unlike most Mourn Watchers, the Professor’s dual existence as both a high ranking Watcher and an esteemed academic afforded him certain luxuries that were beyond most Watchers’ pay grade.

Well above the lower halls frequently traversed by the Mourn Watch lie the Necropolis’s esteemed Halls of Learning. Beautifully adorned and immaculately well kept, the long, marble-hewn halls of the college still held its breathtaking wonder to Rook, both scale and artistry, even as she traipsed through them at such a late hour, lanterns dim, candles snuffed and long shadows nipping at her heels.

It was also incredibly cold.

After so many months away, between travel all over northern Thedas and residence within the Lighthouse itself, with its weirdly artificial perfection, eternal daylight and flawless weather, Rook had forgotten just how *cold* the unattended spaces within the Necropolis could become at night.

Even this close to the surface, the humidity hung thick and the temperature low, her breath trailing her as she followed Emmrich’s familiar stride through old halls that still felt the faintest bit like home.

“You really live here?” She asked against the sound of their footfalls that skirted off of what always felt like an endless labyrinth of stone, “You know, I’ve had that nightmare. Repeatedly.” Rook’s gaze landed upon a series of bronze busts, visages of headmasters past and present, at the far end of the hall, and the grimace she pulled was practically loud enough to wake the dead, “Can’t say I cared for it.”

She found herself pulled deeper into his side as he guided her along in the near-dark, his presence a reprieve from the deathly chill attempting to needle its way into her bones. Apparently he had caught the faint shiver in her voice as she spoke.

“To be completely fair, so have I,” Emmrich laughed, “But no, the residence is elsewhere on campus. This is merely a shortcut. Come along.”

An unassuming trail that wound through a pristinely manicured courtyard, up a mausoleum-crested hill and down into a warmly lit gully brought them to their apparent destination.

The college hosted a series of academic residencies at any given time of the year. Keeping its professors housed in relative comfort, Emmrich had recently explained, assured that some of the keenest minds in the country remained at the disposal of the Necropolis and the education of its Mourn Watchers alike.

… And as it happened, Professor Volkarin had been on something of an oft-renewed residency of his own for nearly 30 years.

The Residencies Domicile stretched for what would have amounted to nearly two city blocks on the surface. Stately and immaculate in its presentation, it boasted nearly a dozen apartments, each playing host to an esteemed educator or researcher and their families. Emmrich, Rook had learned, had called one of those apartments home since his early days of teaching.

“I dare say our time in the Lighthouse has spoiled us both,” Emmrich teased as he fussed with the lock upon an ornate door of iron and oak.

Rook couldn’t resist a little smile as she watched him ignore the series of unopened letters at their feet which themselves had fallen from an overstuffed letterbox, in favor of a studious once-over of the shivering young woman whose features were suddenly graced by the warmth of neighboring window light.

Rook could only assume she looked every bit as chill-numbed as he did, nose and cheeks pink, and eyes watery against the cold.

“Ah, there you are,” he finally emerged with the right skeleton key among a ring of many at his hip. With a shoulder and enough of a shove that it actually managed to send a bit of his hair falling from its typically perfect coif, he was able to wrestle the door free from growing frost that had nearly sealed it shut.

For a moment, it was no less freezing inside, and far darker. Rook wandered in cautiously, pad footing just beyond the light from the threshold, the familiar scent of a sleepy fireplace, parchments, linseed oil and a warm undercurrent of the cologne she’d not once caught Emmrich without soothing nerves that wiggled and winced in the otherwise unfamiliar space.

“Not good,” she heard him mutter just as Emmrich closed the door off from the biting chill outside. His wide stride made its way across the darkened space right before the sudden brightness of a fire that ignited in the stone fireplace nearby.

“Forgive the chill, darling. We’ll have it warm before long,” he said, another flick of his wrist and chime of golden bangles sending warm lanterns alight from various surfaces

In a rare moment of inattentiveness, Rook watched curiously as the man bee lined not for her, but a window near the kitchen. Slender fingers grazed the leaves and blooms of more beautifully potted plants than she could count at a glance, stern gaze clearly trying to assess their damage in the cold. While a little worse for wear, wilting against the chill, they seemed salvageable. Rook stifled a smile at his back as she watched broad shoulders huff a sigh of relief.

“You’ve been away for months, I’m impressed they’re still with us,” Rook noted, “They’re beautiful, though.”

“Thank you, darling,” she heard him smile, before glancing over his shoulder, “I’ve had a colleague looking after them in the meanwhile, although I’m quite certain the ward I set before leaving should have kept it from getting this- - - Ah hah!”

He bounced on his heels, the discovery of an open window not far from the stove catching both their attention at once, “The culprit.”

“Does your colleague leave windows open in attempt to merck your plants often?” She joked.

“Never at night,” Emmrich pushed the window closed and sealed his ward with another quick flick of the wrist, “A simple oversight, I can assure you - She’s 87 and means well. I’ll leave her a note as a reminder - but no. The window is for the cat she’s also looking after. He tends to be insufferable if he’s not able to rest in his own space during the day, bless him.”

“And the man has a cat!”

“Bärchen,” He grinned, “You would love him. Manfred certainly does.”

Rook let slip a theatrical little groan, “Oh, he’s a cat, I already do! And it’s so quiet… not a rampaging baby Griffon in sight. Are you certain we can’t just stay here permanently?”

Emmrich laughed, a charming softness in his gaze, “If it were sensible to do so, Rook, I can assure you, nothing would please me more.”

As the Professor finally extracted himself from Mother-Henning his plants, shrugging his coat from his shoulders as he went, Rook steeled enough nerves to wander a bit, casting a glance across the space around her.

It was cluttered, but gorgeous. Polished blackwood made up most surfaces - Bookshelves and cabinets, tables and chairs - and well-worn, ancient looking stone made the rest, with accents in plush velvet tapestries and curtains. Books and parchments, peculiar artifacts and weeping candles sat everywhere they could find purchase. It was a home well loved, and well lived in, when time permitted him rest.

“There’s a bedroom just up the hall, and another upstairs, along with the study,” Emmrich explained, coat left upon a hook near the door. His nimble grasp snatched a quilt from the tall-backed reading chair near the fireplace, then, and in a swift flurry of movement, he had it unfurled and wrapped warmly around Rook’s shoulders.

Her grin was hampered in the best way - Emmrich guided her toward him with the grip he still had on the quilt. He ducked to kiss her softly, slowly. When he pulled away again, leaving her flush, it felt like her lifeline had been cut.

“Do make yourself at home, darling. I’ve a few more fireplaces to light.”

[hemingwaystan]

A Guide To Actually Portraying The Lords Part 1: House Dimitrescu

Hello, fellow RE8 fans, this is the first part of a rant/post/open letter/essay which I intend as a detailed essay with five parts on how they should've portrayed the lords and then Miranda, with more realism and nuance, because they are nuanced characters when you actually think but Capcom is so bad at showing it. This is my opinion, feel free to disagree but that's the setup so without further ado. Also, sidenote, this series of "essays" will assume Chris just doesn't involve himself in the story, it's still saving Rose, maybe, but Chris exists purely as a MacGuffin so fill in your own blanks on the setup, I'll explain other ways they could've served his purposes.

The Dimitrescu's were more powerful than Ethan, they all were, in a 1v1 they would all win. The Dimitrescu's have been alive for decades and Capcom treats them like idiots. The daughters die effortlessly and Alcina twiddles her thumbs for an insane amount of time. That's obviously stupid. I have the that they should make the daughters immortal for gameplay reasons, you can get them off your back for an amount of time with the cold use it as a shield/safe zone to keep them away for a while but they're always after you, guns will also hold them off too and cause a temporary retreat if done well efficiently. Then of course, I think once a daughter or daughters are either truly hurt or you make a certain amount of progress Alcina should entered the fray in her in game stalker role. The daughters would kind of but not really be in their own areas of the castle but they would collaborate and interact, they're siblings. Think with me here, House Beneviento focused on horror so who's to say it wouldn't be just as effective as that was in horror gameplay to make House Dimitrescu centered around stalker enemy gameplay, a resident evil must-have. Let's say, you have to find the masks and that kinda thing while fighting and working around the Dimitrescus. It makes them scarier, the very serious threat they should've been realistically, and it gives them time to get more characterization. I've went over the threat factor so here's characterization. I think the maids should still be alive, no ceremony as I suggested, no slaughter. You might run into a handful and get help from them or help one escape or they might run from you because of the gunfire, and maybe like one volunteered to be a maid from an abusive family so comes at you with a knife and one shot you with a heart stab in defense of her mistresses and you have to only shoot her in the leg if you don't want to kill her in cold blood, but she moves fast so it's a split second decision. You'll find the record of her existence along with other maid hire records somewhere or other, some negative, some undetailed, and this one positive, again, DICHOTOMY, they kill, they eat, but like the other lords they are human, even if not looking it at first glance, we will see the sides of them and draw our own conclusions. The explanation I think is best for the maids not being everywhere is that they were ordered to their rooms for curfew meaning this would take place at night but the ones you run into are either doing a special task or in the knife ones case drawn to action. The night serves the purpose of increasing the feeling of you against an indominable but understandable threat, imagine, Alcina's heels clicking after you by the light of candelabras in a remote hallway, then you hit a door you don't have a key for, she picks you up and you're impaled, that's a quality, memorable gameplay moment. The explorable castle should be expanded sizably, you should be able to find much more lore scraps and such on the Dimitrescus, maybe have to enter each of the daughter's rooms or some shit to get a set of keys they each have one of. Show every Dimitrescu doing and saying their horrible things to you and maybe maim a maid who gets in the way in the chase and be totally evil on like a 1/3 of the lore scraps but then have a dichotomy of their canonically "loving family" and less canonically them doing some good things, not many but some, we see their evil but we can also see humanity and miniscule scraps of good under it. Given seeing the maids alive they should all have mixed opinions of them, because they should be often cruel to the maids and drain them sometimes but if it's cartoonish it loses credibility, they protect the maids and treat them "ok", servant food and quarters might be better than the village lol, because Lycans as opposed to daughters/Alcina, Dimitrescus have rules, which would be a fair bit less harsh in this version, rabid Lycans don't, BUT, they do drain disobedient maids and are cruel to them on the regular it's just not omnipresent.

At maybe the two thirds or half of the way into Dimitrescu section we see the phone call and watch as Lady Dimitrescu realizes Miranda never cared for her, because she didn't, let's say Miranda needs something from her for the ceremony or something else and says, roughly, "the daughters don't matter at all, they are unimportant to me, and are irrelevant right now, so go and obey me NOW, are we clear? Alcina.", she's scared for her daughters with Ethan loose in the Castle because by this point he has actually hurt them, and just hurting them is enough for a canonically very protective of those she loves Alcina, so she responds to Miranda, paraphrasing, "Fuck off Miranda if my family means nothing to you than you are not my family, I have a manthing to kill thank you very much."

Also the dagger of death's flowers shouldn't exist, it's a fuckoff stupid MacGuffin in the first place, or maybe it could just disable Alcina for a sizable amount of time at the end of the Dimitrescu section so we can escape. How do you use a logically unkillable enemy well? You make her unkillable, scary, threatening, and an unstoppable force, make it so the player is on the edge of their seat trying to fight back the daughters and Alcina, hide, or temporarily disable, all that. Their will be killing, because game, the Moroaica still exist, I would minimize rooftop so less Samca but still. It's almost like when there is a very threatening force that is portrayed with clear nuance but is still evil and enemies you have to get through you find yourself managing what resources you have, thinking about where you are constantly as not be cornered by the daughters or run into Alcina, or find windows and cold air to make yourself a temporary safezone to recover in, of course straight-up saferooms still existing, it means you have to use your environment to keep the credible force back that acts logically, remember Nemesis? Exactly. But with a more competent AI than in game Alcina, not that ingames is bad, because her stalker mode is the whole point, this AI that makes their attack patterns less predictable in turn, they all will behave in characteristic ways or at least unique ways so you have to know your enemy to be best off, like maybe Daniela will move the fastest but is the least perceptive of your hiding place, Alcina is the most dangerous, calculating in pursuit and hard to lose but has slightly slower attacks although harder to dodge and far more damaging, she's the main threat, the first bit of the section she's left it to her daughters but once you legitimately hurt one mama bear comes in with a steel chair and a vengeance, Cassandra is a great tracker and hard to hide from but because she likes playing with food and is sadistic she'll be more arrogant and focused on pain rather than death, she wants to have her fun, BUT, if you kill one of the daughters which I'm considering as an idea, she becomes far more dangerous, as they all will, but this is the largest threat increase because the gloves are off, Bela is the smartest according to devs so she can be the slowest walking but by far the hardest to get rid of the daughters once she's found you and is close. Bela will also be the most likely to find one of her sisters and work together, this would only happen latter and just once or twice because of how dangerous it would be but on the other hand it's less moving parts for you to think about, or maybe there's like a 1 to 4 chance when heavily injured, not killed because they're basically immortal, injured the daughters will yell for mother meaning you'll have to go and fast, again, mama bear, steel fucking chair. The daughter won't pursue and again the temporary retreat you get if you damage them enough but it gives Alcina your location and she moves faster temporarily, this gives you a reason not to just action hero the daughters on easier dificulties and is lore compliant.

Like, when you're doing all that it's almost like you've found yourself trying to survive(al) horror. I don't think you should be able to kill more than one of the Dimitrescus because past that is illogical, you just do as stated above and manage to through fighting, hiding, and surviving escape Castle Dimitrescu, Rose flask in hand(If we keep Rose).

Thorough explanation of a regularly mentioned idea. Give the player a chance to kill one of the daughters, and because they're all expanded on in a huge way in all the new lore scraps of them and Alcina it makes you think, which is the worst, which is the best, I only have one chance, I need to do the right thing. There are all these factors on why to do what, maybe Daniela has a crush on one of the maids but you also hear a story of her eating someone alive, limb from limb, hours of torture, from one of the anti-Dimitrescu maids but the maid was planning to find the dagger of flower's if it stays and kill Alcina for one reason or another or if no dagger she, dumbass, thought a gun would work, but what if it isn't true? Is Daniela sane? All these questions appear or do they just deserve to die for fair reasons. Maybe there's also a harder way of doing things where you keep all three alive by doing something or other and at the end you get a special cutscene where you look a death's flowered Alcina who's powerless for the moment in the eyes say something or other and walk out of the castle through the escape route you take no matter what at the end of Dimitrescu section. There could also be like an almost impossible new game+ way to kill all three of them to encourage replayability. Or you could just not care but in any game with some kind of moral choicemaking some player's won't, which is fair but rude.

Part 2 is out on House Beneviento, read it next if you want.

[melrosing]

thank you for this addition! i think there are a few conversations you've pointed out here where, though they're not all coming from the same place, are cumulatively having the same alienating effect.

so for one thing I'm gonna take a stab in the dark and say there are a lot of people in fandom spaces who have at some point gone through the process of 'reclaiming their femininity', after some time in the 'not like other girls' mines as a kid/teen. i have also done a bit of this in my time, and i've seen more people talk about it in fandom spaces than I've seen anywhere.

so maybe this process felt in some way empowering for a lot of people here - that they discovered they could like things they thought they had to disdain, and that enjoying them gave them a flavour of in-group. I really believe the NLOG mentality primarily comes from girls who have been made outcasts by their female peers, and who in turn said 'well i don't want to be like you anyway'.

i think it's a very natural reaction, but as you get older you start to understand there's a lot of internalised misogyny that can fester in this mindset, and so now the NLOGs are made to look the bullies, and the feminine in-group their victims. which is... pretty unfair lmao, but if you can convince yourself you're now PART of that in-group, it's not so difficult to disdain that old NLOG mindset - that's not you anymore.

but as you say, i think the more harmful trend that carries over from this is this 'reclamation' of femininity, where it's made to fit anything you want it to just so you can feel like you do conform, just in more creative ways. which is.... weirdly contradictory, and also almost an extension of the NLOG mentality. so now in stark sister warfare you've got Sansa stans calling Arya an NLOG and you've got Arya fans saying Sansa exemplifies 'toxic femininity' and Arya some kind of more natural, organic femininity. and ftr i don't think anyone is winning here lol. but I think the issue in the middle is this odd possessiveness over 'femininity' as a trait.

to take this back to my original post, I guess my issue then is this idea that femininity is not a fundamentally neutral thing, that anyone can have in smaller or larger doses. going beyond just the stark sister warfare, there's this need to accommodate more and more traits within it that it becomes very gender essentialist - it's nurturing, it's romance, it's nature, it's the cosmos, it's fucking everything. the gnc character is not actually gnc, just a more fantastical kind of feminine.

so if you're a user who doesn't give a shit about femininity, and identifies more with the character's non-conformity, or their masculine traits, and yet all you see is this insistence on femininity, and this actual fury at the very idea that one might call XYZ gnc or masculine in some way, it's extremely alienating. it does just take away the language you have to describe your own relationship to gender, and replaces it with a universal 'femininity' that utterly insists upon itself.

and then ofc there's the other side of this, which I think is easier to boil down - like the reactions to butch Rhaenyra are just.... ppl hate butch women. they'll tolerate a kind of soft androgyny, but don't push it beyond that. and ESPECIALLY don't draw her with femme Alicent, because why does Alicent get all the femininity! that prized resource! why would you do THAT to Rhaenyra why don't you do THAT to Alicent! punish her she's so much more cold, and evil, and not nearly as motherly as Rhaenyra, and oh shit we've already struck like five different kinds of misogyny in this passage alone. i mean it doesn't even need explaining, these people do know deep down that they just think that drawing Rhaenyra in a butch way is degrading because to be butch is degrading, but they'll dress it up in progressive language because there's no way they're going to admit that. I've looked at their arguments and they don't hold up for two seconds, but doesn't mean they haven't done this dozens of times over.

anyway that isn't to say that I think femininity sucks or isn't interesting. I like that Brienne encompasses both masculinity AND femininity. I really enjoy how GRRM portrays theses as symbiotic sides of her, equal in worth. and I do think it's a shame that GOT turned Brienne into something so much flatter, who operates like a tin soldier 90% of the time. but we don't really need to overcompensate here by putting a 'feminine' spin on her masculine traits as well, or that old argument that she wouldn't have picked up a sword if she didn't have to she would've been happy just being Lady Brienne!!! (canonically, no. she would not)

and idk just.... femininity is not liquid gold we don't have to talk about it like this mystical nuance that every girl wears differently.

It’s not even just asoiaf fandom, it’s a pan fandom thing that showing women who are CANONICALLY GNC in gnc ways is considered misogynist. People were doing this about Vi from Arcane like a week ago

oh for sure. and you see people trying to expand the definition of femininity to fit all kinds of things, by in turn REDUCING masculinity by comparison to just a handful of undesirable, violent traits that you wouldn’t want associated with your fave. perhaps this is partially in response to how alienating femininity can be, and ppl trying to carve it into something more accepting that they can belong to. but I think there should be limits to that, bc the result is othering those who just don’t care for femininity, and embrace nonconformity. and this insistence that drawing out a character’s masculinity/non conformity in fanwork is insulting and degrading but capitalising their femininity is empowering - well that’s just so fucking transparent isn’t it lol.

btw though it’s worth adding that I think the dialogue is different where concerns women of colour, as there’s a very different history there as concerns a kind of…. othering through masculinising?? and I saw a dialogue taking place re. this in a different fandom today, concerning fanwork of a character portrayed by a black woman, and I was just like…. there are two very different conversations to be had about this. so would add that on the above, im talking about the discourse surrounding gnc white female characters.

[drenched-in-sunlight]

saying this as respectfully as possible but. Do not put fandom content creators on a pedestal. We are also just fans contributing to a community just as you are. We have boundary on our own work and that’s it. What I say is not and should not be considered sth the whole fandom should listen to. I’m just a normal ass person ranting about things on my blog. If it does not have a fandom tag for others to engage in, do not make it out to be me trying to start fights or addressing the whole community. Because it’s not.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again, my art, my lore talk, is biased. I’ve never tried to hide that I view Marika a certain way and will always develop my theory following that base assumption.

Aside from translation stuffs and pointing out in-game items, everything else I say you can look at it, agree or disagree, and move on to form your own opinions. Just because I draw stuffs doesn’t mean you get to saddle me with responsibilities about managing fandom expectations. What the hell? I’m a fan artist, I’m the last person who you should look at for “leaderism” (?) WHAT?

I can and will be a hater in my own space, like I know sometimes other artists will just post their stuffs and not engage too heavily with fandom, and for a while I did try to do that here (because I’m already a dramatic ass on twitter), that’s just not me though.

You will get art and you will get my opinions as well.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

"I think this is the most inhuman; and human, that I've ever felt.." MUCH CAN HAPPEN IN A YEAR. IN FIVE YEARS. A DECADE. imagine how much can happen in a century. just ONE (1). How will you grow? what phases do you find? even in 5 years, you will find patterns.

[nekoekko-art]

SinDon stargazing and eating soup for your Monday!

[moeblob]

A succubus and a demon! (The succubi don't have names but the demon is Kronos and the succubus is one of his bosses in Hell and he's not /fond/ of the succubi for many reasons but they all adore picking on him)

Also because I love them and like to point it out, the succubi act more as pleasure dealers in the sense of they offer up whatever a human wants most in exchange for their soul. It's rarely of a sexual nature since it's what they want MOST in life. And most people's ambitions are outside of a bedroom. (happy pride, asexuals are able to get affected by a succubus now without discrimination)