#and that was 2500 words

[torsfax]

procrastination final boss

ive got two projects (one is like a 3 page essay and the other is 1500 words + a map) and about 5 1/2 hours till theyre due (i just started)

im so totally not cooked!

[hanciiii]

another sketch today!!!! ill hope ill get some inspiration to make an actual piece soon ♡

[sinfullyrosey]

Peck a Pretty Rose pt. 1 (SFW)

Riddle Rosehearts X GN!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing, Teasing, Touch Starved Riddle, Angst with Comfort, Crying

I had to drag my brain, kicking and screaming, to finish writing this.

Anyways! I love this boy with every fiber of my being, even after all this time he’s still my favorite. He deserves affection. Give it to him. or I will

“What in the Great Sevens are you doing?!?!”

Your attention was turned to the quickly approaching figure of the Heartslabyul dormleader himself, Riddle Rosehearts.

His face was as red as ever, stormy gray eyes sending thorn-like glares your way as he finally reached you. While most would be cowering before the red tyrant or finding his overreaction to be annoying (like a certain redheaded first year), you simply found it to be adorable.

His little, chubby cheeks, still round with leftover baby fat, all red like the strawberries he loved so much. His short stature only making him appear even less threatening in your eyes. He reminded you of a hedgehog, cute yet prickly. How lucky you were to be dating him despite what others might question about your decision-making skills.

“Why, I’m painting the roses red of course.~” You said, oh-so nonchalantly.

He huffed, crossing his arms, eyes still focused on glaring you down.

“I can see that Prefect, but why are you painting the roses red? They are already red, as per the rules, so there’s no need-“

He paused, finally getting a good look at the rose bush next to you.

The white rose bush to be exact.

Anger flared up in the redhead once more as he began another tirade over the miscolored roses.

“Those roses aren’t red! Why aren’t the roses red?! They should be red! The rules explicitly state that the roses were to be replanted red this month! So why aren’t they red?!”

He looked to you for an explanation, hands now on his sides.

“We~ell, they were! But then I painted them white! Only to realize my mistake and started painting them red again!” You beamed.

He gave an unconvinced look.

Your smile faltered.

“Yeah, okay, Tweedle-Dee and Tweedled-Dumb planted the wrong-colored replacement roses and begged me to come over and start painting them while they fetched some more red paint. Grim was supposed to be on the lookout, but guess he bailed. Or maybe he’s napping somewhere..?” You trailed off.

Riddle groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperated annoyance. Ace and Deuce, he should have known… That’s what he gets for trusting those two with the most simplest of tasks.

His deep sigh brought you out of your thoughts and he gently took the brush and palette out of your hands, setting them aside. You brushed yourself off, dusting any loose leaves and dirt off you.

“You do not need to be fixing their mistake, Prefect. You should only focus on yourself and your own tasks. I’ll see to it that they fix their own mistake.”

You saw a flicker of anger flare in his stormy eyes. A brief flash of red, like fire, before he suddenly turned on his heels and began walking off towards the garden exit.

“And make them pay the price dearly…”

Oh boy, you better do something quick before Riddle has Ace and Deuce’s heads.

Literally.

Before properly thinking your actions through, you rushed over to stand in front of him, making him stop and nearly run into you in the process. He looked taken aback, but soon glared at you.

“What-what is the meaning of this?! You can’t just get in front of someone like that-“

You silence him with a soft smile and gently took one of his hands into both of yours, cradling it like he would with one of his beloved hedgehogs.

“Riddle me this Rosehearts, how did such an adorable, little thing such as yourself end up as my precious significant other?”

Completely caught off guard, the poor boy sputtered at your statement. A mix of anger and embarrassment blooming on his cheeks. You simply continued to stare at him with that loving smile, calm and unbothered, a complete contrast to his flustered state.

“D-don’t be absurd! Now is not the time for such tomfoolery!”

You tilted your head at that.

Despite having dated for a good while now, your simple acts of affection never failed to get him worked up. Granted, you’ve never been this blunt with him, but you needed to save your friend’s (dumb)asses.

“Why? It’s true. You are adorable. So small and delicate-looking, yet somehow strong and intelligent despite your appearance. You’re like a perfect, little strawberry, just ready to be picked.~”

The intense stare you were giving him was making him feel hot and nervous, especially when you squeezed his hand in a sign of reassurance. The simple gesture caused his face to bloom even brighter and gaze to fall to the grass at his feet. His heart fluttered at the compliments, not knowing how to respond. He wanted to be angry at you calling him small but couldn’t bring himself to when your voice was full of so much adoration and praise.

“The perfect strawberry picked by me, that is.~” You cheekily added, sticking your tongue out at him.

The comment made him shoot his gaze back up at you, mild anger flaring once more.

“Hey! You can’t just-just..! Say things like that! What if someone hears?!”

He briefly looked around the garden to make sure no other student happened to stumble upon the private scene shared between you two. In that brief moment of distraction, you took the opportunity to carefully intertwine both your hands with his, preventing him from using either and fleeing.

He gasped like he was offended over such a “salacious” display. You have held hands with Riddle before, but never like this, not with both hands, and not while the two of you were alone in the garden, away from prying eyes.

And now that you had him right where you wanted, you were going to make the best of this rare moment!

“Ah, but I can my dear strawberry queen. So handsome and talented. How lucky I am to have you a~all to myself.~”

“S-stop…

“Hm, nope.~”

“I know what you’re doing!”

You shrugged, using your entwined hands, you playfully pull him closer to you, making him almost stumble from the sudden action. You moved backwards, pulling him along with you despite his protests. It took a bit of effort and force on your part, but soon you were guiding him along in a sort of jumbled, makeshift dance.

You were twirling him around, trying to keep from stepping on his feet and pissing him off in the process. His cape flowed with him as you laughed at his undignified squawks to be let go and threatening to off your head if you didn’t stop immediately. The sound reminded you of the flamingos, which you further teased him with.

“Enough! I’ve had about enough of this, Rosebud!”

At the sound of him accidentally using his petname for you, you briefly halted your actions to stare at him, meeting his equally shocked expression. He hadn’t meant to call you that, trying to remain serious, only to shrink at the beaming look you gave him.

“Aw, well aren’t you just the sweetest, Riddle.~”

You leaned towards him so that you could place a quick peck to his forehead, making him gasp and eyes widen. His hands tightened around yours at your touch, heart racing. But you didn’t give him any time to respond, too caught up in your own feelings of intense emotion.

“My little teacup.”

A kiss to his cheek.

“Cherry cheeks.”

Another kiss to his other cheek.

“Little dormouse prince.”

And another to his nose.

With every loving peck, his face grew hotter and redder, soon resembling that of one of his beloved roses. Once or twice he’d try to pull away out of sheer embarrassment, only for you to hold his hands tighter in yours, gently pulling him towards you as to draw him closer. You knew if he really wanted you to stop, he’d just use his unique magic or yell at you to cease.

He was just overwhelmed and didn’t know how to handle this newfound burst of affection, so you were planning on soaking up as much of this opportunity as you could. He stuttered out your name when you pulled away, smiling brightly at him.

“Hey Riddle.”

“What now?”

“If I was a gardener, I’d plant our two-lips together.”

“Wha-“

And with that, you planted your lips against his in a deep kiss. His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, completely caught off guard and not expecting you to do that of all things.

Riddle’s mind was racing with everything that was going on, emotions hazy and struggling to grasp what lead him up to this moment. Alone, in the Heartslabyul garden with you, sharing his very first kiss. A preposterous notion that his old self would be reeling over, surely.

Riddle never imagined himself in such a situation like this. His whole life, he had been working to be the best that he could be, the best his mother expected him to be. Day in and day out, studying and focusing on his academics, never allowed to step foot outside, to feel the warmth of the Sun on his skin and the sweetness of sugar on his lips.

To just stop, for once, and smell those damn roses he so painstakingly took care of so that they could grow and blossom by his own hands.

At first, he was hesitant to allow it to go this far, especially after the recent heated argument with his mother. He felt it somehow disrespectful towards her, despite his newfound mixed feelings towards the strict woman who did this to him, who caused him to fall so hard.

When did he find himself falling so far down into this rabbit hole, chasing the forbidden white rabbit that was you? How did you manage to draw him in with the promise of sweetness that had him feeling so big, yet so small? These maddening emotions, blurred with red hearts and white roses, filling up his head with colored smoke that had him repeating words he never thought he’d say.

How could you have taken this wilting, black-stained rose, encased in nothing but sharp thorns, and made it bloom once more?

His thoughts continued to spiral, even long after you’d ended the kiss.

“Riddle?”

Your voice called softly, but he didn’t answer.

“Riddle.”

He still didn’t respond.

He was finally pulled from his thoughts when he suddenly felt the presence of something on his face. Something soft and familiar wiping at his cheeks, just below his eyes.

“Riddle, you’re crying.”

His slate blue eyes refocus, gazing into your own, worried ones. He blinks at you, still reeling through his emotions.

“What? I’m what??”

With his free hand, he reached up to feel his face, gathering a few stray tears from his cheek and looking at them in bewilderment. He was crying? When was he crying?? He didn’t even know he had been crying, and couldn’t seem to stop, feeling more warm droplets run down his face and drip from his chin.

He was unable to stop more tears from falling. It seemed the more he tried to blink back, the more would flow, painting his cheeks and lashes in a clear, silvery hue. He sniffled, growing frustrated at the mess he was making of himself, and in front of you, no less.

Why couldn’t he stop? Why did the tears keep coming? He hasn’t cried so openly since his overblot, and had promised to keep it that way. So, why was he now falling apart all over again?! The thought only caused more salty, hot tears to gather at the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill and blur his vision further.

“Oh Riddle…”

Your soothing voice cooed, both hands cupping either of his cheeks to cradle them in your palms. His own hands could only grasp onto your wrists for support, while your thumbs gently rubbed underneath his eyes.

“Hey, you’re okay. It’s alright. Just let it all out, okay?”

He couldn’t answer, only weakly nod while you worked to clean his face up and give soft words of affirmation. The whole thing was embarrassing; crying over something so, so, trivial..! It was all rather silly now that Riddle had the chance to calm down a bit. What would his dormmates think of him if they saw him like this? He needs to get himself together this instant.

“It’s okay to cry when things get to be too much. It’s not good to bottle it all up.”

You chirp, giving a peck to his still heated cheek, then another to his other cheek. His previous flustered state returned once more as you began peppering his face in kisses, paying special attention to his now red, puffy eyes. You were careful to plant light kisses on his eyelids, making him flush even more.

All the attention was making him hiccup, trying to clear his throat to speak normally again to get you to stop already.

You moved your attention down lower, kissing at his neck to elicit a few stifled giggles from him. He was just so ticklish there; you just couldn’t help yourself!

He let out a squeak at a particular spot, prompting you to blow a little raspberry there. His soft laughter rang all throughout the Heartslabyul garden, making him push you away to make it stop and end this little game already.

“S-stop, that’s quite enough! Rosebud, please! If any of the others see me like this, then it’s off with your head!” He scolded, catching his breath.

You decided to finally let up, having pushed his boundaries far enough. The poor boy has gone through enough emotional turmoil; his brain is probably completely topsy-turvy by now, unable to tell top from bottom. And besides…

It’s probably best that the two of you left the garden and got him properly cleaned up in his dorm room. Ace and Deuce were supposed to be back here forever ago and still haven’t made a return, meaning they probably got sidetracked elsewhere and got into even more trouble. Any minute they could return, bringing their trouble with them, right into the line of Riddle’s volatile wrath.

That, or they completely ditched you to deal with the dormhead in their stead. Regardless, you don’t want to imagine what would happen to Ace if he saw Riddle in his current state and opened that big, dumb mouth of his.

You shook your head of the thought and instead focused on the short, redhead next to you. Smiling at him, you gently took one of his hands in your own, making him look at you suspiciously. You chuckled and assured him you weren’t up to anything and merely suggested walking him back to his room to help him freshen up and relax.

He narrowed his eyes at you before sighing and relenting. He intertwined his fingers with yours, leading the way to the garden exist once more. You followed along obediently, occasionally swinging your entwined hands playfully. Riddle shook his head at your childishness but gave a fond smile.

[catominor]

why no mercy? the aeneaer

[linka-from-captain-planet]

Florrickology, Part 1: The Thong That Launched 1000 Headcanons

My favorite thing to do as a background character fan is to co-opt things that were definitely not meant to be characterization by making them characterization.

Thus, I have looked way deeper than intended into every possible pixel, moment, and mention of my beloved Counsellor Florrick and developed the exciting new field of Florrickology to report my findings.

Obviously the first place I'm going is this fucking dress and how I use it to infer upon her the two sexiest characteristics a woman can have:

Unflinching vanity and a deep-seated, yet subtle, insanity.

This dress is more than a bit of an enigma because... why?

It really stands out because, while Larian gives players plenty of opportunities to sexualize their avatar and their companions, they don't really sexualize NPCs. Most women, like men, are dressed very modestly. Outfits that female NPCs wear are even often much more unisex than the equivalent outfits available to player characters (e.g. tunics that male PCs can wear may turn into tits-out dirndls on female PCs for no apparent reason, but female NPCs wearing the same outfit get a tunic). The only characters who are sexualized are presented as Sexy Characters, like Abdirak or Sorn Orlith or Orin or even Mystra and Mamzell Amira, who also wear this dress.

Mostly.

Florrick, despite being beautiful, a two-time damsel in distress, and a certified MILF, is not presented as a Sexy Character. She's presented as a no-nonsense, somewhat domineering, loyal-and-virtuous-to-a-fault fed. This is the only description of her in the game files (see img description), highlighting these bare-bones characteristics:

So... why? For this character whose appearance truly doesn't matter beyond being eye-catching enough to communicate her importance to the story, who has no even vaguely flirtatious dialogue and no implied sexuality or romance (even with the man she spends the entire game chasing!), and not even a weird torture porn moment which she has ample opportunities... why dress her like this? Why emphasize her body over any other similarly-prominent NPC like, say, Alfira?

My assumption would be that they did it to soften her to the average Redditmod McGamerbro because the story really is better if incels don't kill her for being "bossy"... if they didn't also code her as a middle-aged black woman and give her a custom face sculpt with a prominent nose, large jaw, and non-Western features, all famously accepted with no problematic reaction from this demographic whom Larian doesn't not cater to. In fact, as the #1 Florrickposter in the universe, I often see people say in tags and comments that they didn't even notice how revealing her dress is while playing the game. While racism is definitely at play (plus misogyny, rendering this middle-aged black-coded woman invisible, whereas a younger and white man in the same role would be ALL OVER THIS DAMN PLACE), it also speaks to just how discordant her outfit and explicit characterization are.

Now, this outfit does make a little sense on a glance and I think that's a big part of why it flies under the radar as well: she's important and presumably wealthy, so of course she wears this very posh and expensive-looking dress. She's a wizard (a fact everyone manages to glean on a glance, despite it never being stated and basically never being relevant), so of course she's wearing something obnoxious and purple. From the waist up, it actually looks like a pretty reasonable outfit for a person of her DnD class, social class, and occupation.

It's from the waist down where it gets out of hand.

But first, this isn't even Florrick's original outfit or face (which I'll talk about in another post), or the first iteration of her current outfit. Originally, she wore the ostentatious yet modest feathered peacock dress that eventually ended up on Lucretious (and took the thicc waist with it RIP). According to my research, there was a reason for this: it was too baller for Waukeen's Rest and kept causing crashes, so they had to put her in a less graphically-demanding outfit.

The original peacock dress sent the necessary "I am an important quest giver, engage with me" message, so why not just remove the cowl that was causing the issues? But instead, they changed her outfit entirely, keeping it eye-catching and posh (suitable for a big-city government official), but randomly making it super revealing (strange, for a big-city government official). Further, Florrick got a major va-va-voom upgrade between Sexy Dress v1 and final release, with a new dress model that makes it clearer that the front and back panels are sheer, subtly showing even more skin, and which unsubtly emphasizes her hips and breasts.

Based on extensive academic research using mods, I determined that the dress is what conveys the extra curviness (see img description in the left-most pic) vs her having a custom body sculpt (weak). Further, when viewed from behind, the dress pads out her ass, also making it look bigger and rounder than the standard body type 1 (see img description in the right-most pic).

What's more, if you look closely at the waist seam of the final version of her sexy dress, it looks like they went so far as to skew it to make her hips stand out even more when she takes the cocked-hip stance (which she seems to only stand in) and perhaps draw even more attention to her thong sticking out. Notice how the waist seam is even and straight across in Sexy Dress V1 above, but Final Florrick has it like 2 inches higher on her right, without fabric bunching to explain the different seam lengths. You can also see how the dress subtly pops out farther than her actual hips (and from the side view, over her lower stomach), giving her the impression of curves the standard body type doesn't have. They were very intentional with it.

Shockingly, I don't actually have much to say about her exposed thong in and of itself (it is what it is) except that I think it actually makes the outfit look substantially skimpier because it draws attention to just how high those hip slits are, compared to leaving the area blank so eyes gloss over it (even if that would imply she runs around commando all game). It's a small detail that drives home the overall design.

All this is to say, since this dress is only worn by 4 people* with Florrick being the first you see and by far has the most screen time, and it isn't lootable, it seems this outfit was developed intentionally and specifically to emphasize her body to make her look sexier.

*Florrick, Mamzell Amira (slightly different lower half), a random patriar at Gortash's inauguration named Lady Alia Durinbold, and Mystra

So, this takes us back to the question of 'why'. Why spend all this time and these resources fine-tuning this dress to make it as sexy and flattering as possible? Why put it on a character who has literally no reason to wear such a thing? Why put this dress which is nothing but nonsense on a character who's pretty much only characterized as being no-nonsense??

And this is also where the real tinfoil hattery comes in, as I doubt Larian really meant anything by it aside from creating a hot NPC for players with good taste to enjoy across all 3 acts.

But that's not what this nuclear caliber simp post is about; it's about overthinking shit because I love her and she is a main character to ME.

So, whatever Larian's intention, there's only 1 in-universe reason why Florrick wears this outfit:

She woke up that day in Waukeen's Rest, in the middle of nowhere a full tenday from the city, on her way back from literal hell to deal with yet another crisis, and decided to put it on. And continued to do so every day thereafter.

It's logical that she can't change right after being rescued since the inn is burning down presumably with her luggage in it, but why did she choose that outfit in the first place, considering she was travelling? She's been travelling for months; it can't have been her only clothing. Did she not have a Fist uniform? A pair of leggings? She runs right off after she's done talking; does she hike all the way in and out of the shadow-cursed lands in a thong and flat macrame boots? It doesn't even have any indication of cinches or buttons despite having all the logical seams and it's clearly tailored to fit her bananas hourglass figure, like there's no way she can just pull it on or step into it, so does she have to expend her valuable magic to wear it? Does she take the time to sew herself into it every day instead of sucking it up and wearing *barf* pants??? There are plenty of people around in Act 2 that could and would give her something more practical to wear, even if she did have a good reason to wear her original dress that day in Waukeen's Rest. Yet, she continues to wake up every day and put that outfit on. Even after returning home.

(In my head, the video game convention of every character only having 1 outfit is shorthand for what their "typical" outfit is, and they "really" have a wardrobe of similar clothing. So when I say she wears that outfit every day, I mean she has a couple of similarly-bonkers dresses in her bag and chooses to wear one every day vs something more practical).

So the simp's question isn't what Larian is saying about her by dressing like this, but what she's saying about herself by choosing to dress like this.

Clothing is self-expression. Look at the many analyses of the main characters' outfits. Larian may or may not have really meant anything by giving Florrick this outfit, but just as Astarion's careful mending of his shirt necessarily says something about him and his personality in the universe he lives in, so does Florrick's decision to wear flashy, revealing clothing.

It almost makes no sense... until you think about one of Florrick's explicitly-demonstrated characteristics:

Confidence. Over confidence. Hubris, even.

I'll have more to say about Desiré "Fuck It, We Ball" Florrick and her personality in another florrickology post, but the long and short of it is that this woman is not afraid of shit and sashays into every situation fully confident in her ability to charm or steamroll it to her liking. "She is used to getting her way", indeed. Her epilogue letter betrays a bit of self-doubt, but it seems to have been brought on by her perceived failures in relation to the player character's successes, so likely not her ordinary attitude. Whereas this seems to be her ordinary clothing, since she took it with her to Elturel and back for no apparent reason and chooses to wear it for no apparent reason.

She has nothing to gain from it, no one important to impress at least until returning to the city in Act 3. Otherwise, she's in bumfuck nowhere with her boss-friend and lackeys, or cursed!bumfuck nowhere with her lackeys and a bunch of vigilantes planning a war. While I wouldn't doubt that she has or might be willing to use her beauty and sex appeal to meet her goals (TadpUlder does, curiously, call her a "black widow"; is his tadpole capitalizing on stereotypes--could it be slut shaming her??, or is it referencing things that the shreds of Ulder's mind know she's done?), ultimately, there can't be a tactical explanation because there's nobody more powerful than her around 90% of the time.

She also doesn't flirt with anyone and nobody flirts with her (philistines). She has no mentioned spouse or lovers, nor any implied sexuality at all. The closest we get is Mizora saying "she misses the Duke" after Florrick's ambush in Act 3, the only time anyone implies she's on a crusade to find him because of romantic feelings and not duty, loyalty, and friendship... which means Mizora is probably just talking out her ass and belittling people, as she does.

So, combine self-confidence with the decision to constantly wear a sexy dress that shows off her body for no practical reason, and what do you get?

Balls-to-the-wall, unapologetic vanity.

(If it wasn't clear, when I call women "vain" I think they are objectively correct and this is a compliment of the highest order.)

Sure, maybe wearing this kind of outfit boosts her confidence and that helps deal with this unprecedented crisis and possibly the first self-doubt she's ever experienced, but this is evidently her usual clothing and she isn't usually dealing with those things.

So, she wears this intricate and revealing dress mostly she likes it and how she looks in it. This means she likes that it's revealing. She likes showing skin to literally no end except her own enjoyment.

Notice she doesn't really do her hair (it's shiny and neat, but not really styled) or bother with makeup (she lost the EA smoky eye in favor of a quick swipe of eyeliner). One may think that perhaps she isn't as confident in her facial beauty since she does have unique features, so she calls attention to her body instead, but she's so devoid of modesty that I can't help but assume she simply looks in the mirror in the morning, thinks "no notes" (correct) and moves on to pouring herself into her favorite skimpy dress. She's proud of her natural beauty, and she's not about to cover it all up with goop or fabric!! She never mentions it and nobody who knows her does; she's not trying to stunt on anyone or even attract other hot people.

She's in it purely for the love of the sport and, sexiest of all, herself. This woman doesn't think she's the sexiest creature in any given room, she knows it.

And she knows that being hot doesn't affect her ability to do her job and protect the city she loves. She doesn't have to cover herself up, doll up her hair and makeup, slap on like 400 pettiskirts, etc, to be taken seriously. It's possibly even giving 'malicious compliance'. She commands so much respect that even horny gamers don't notice her entire ass is one breeze away from being out.

The deep-seated, yet subtle insanity part has pretty much already been covered; maybe in her day-to-day life of attending meetings and walking all over everyone in Wyrm's Rock, it's not so impractical, but it's a completely insane thing to wear in any sort of crisis or outdoor adventure. That this woman is willing to risk chafing or being cold (womankind's public enemy #1 and #2) simply for the drip is delightfully nutty. There is not a single moment she appears in this game where this outfit would be reasonable.

She presents herself as a stalwart, serious, determined woman, but then squeezes into a dress so tight and precarious that it knocks off her Fleet of Foot speed boost, for literally no reason aside from being vain and lowkey kind of crazy.

Good for her!

[zoueriemandzijnopmars]

Morgen (1 december) begint de top 2000 stemweek en als je me volgt weet je waarschijnlijk al wat ik je ga vragen te doen.

Het zou mij echt ontzettend gelukkig maken als we dit jaar K3 in de top 2000 krijgen en specifiek Oya Lélé.

Waarom?

Vind het leuk of niet, K3 is al 25 jaar een groot onderdeel van de Nederlandstalige cultuur. Ik durf te wedden dat bijna iedereen in Nederland wel een paar K3 nummers kent en toch staan ze niet in de top 2000 terwijl een super niche nummer als Tubular Bells, Part One dat 25 en een halve minuut duurt er wel in staat!

K3 viert dit jaar hun 25 jarig bestaan, Oya Lélé is zelf 20 jaar oud dit jaar K3 de top 2000 in stemmen is een goede manier om dit te vieren (en dit wordt ook de 25ste editie van de top 2000)

Eerder dit jaar heb ik op mijn side blog een toernooi gehouden voor het beste K3 nummer. Oya Lélé heeft dit met overmacht gewonnen, wat mij bevestigd in de keuze om campagne te voeren voor Oya Lélé

Oya Lélé heeft in 2003 ook 18 weken in de Nederlandse top 40 gestaan, het langst van alle K3 nummers

Stem K3 als wraak op Spotify omdat ze K3 blijven negeren in de Wrapped lijstjes

Tl;Dr: STEM OYA LÉLÉ DE TOP 2000 IN

[everythings-a-feather]

Fruity

My entry for @xcatmo s insta DTIYS, the dresses looked really neat and I liked the symmetry so I wanted to play into that

I spent too long making sure the patterns shifted over the folds lol

Also bonus in old shoujo manga style

[naffeclipse]

Crush Depth

Chapter 1: You're On You're Own

FNAF Mermaid!DCA x Y/N (SFW)

You stare out the forward viewport—the window. The sub’s only window. Blood splashes against the thick glass. It is human blood. It fills an ocean on Moon FZ-87. The atmosphere is dark and barren, speckled with the ghostly light of stars that have been gone for decades. This is the last view you have of anything above the blood ocean surface. Futility sinks roots into your ribs.

Word Count: ~2,700 Warnings: See tags.

A/N: First things first, although this is an Iron Lung AU, I have taken some creative liberties to keep up the horror/atmosphere within a written medium and have included additional details to the sub as well as added events/objects within this story to make it a proper DCA AU rather than just a written account of the video game. I will also include my interpretations of the game and what I believe the lore is implying. This also includes the DCA as monstrous blood ocean mers and how they will play into the story.

Iron Lung is a video game and one I highly recommend watching a playthrough of or playing yourself. If you are unfamiliar with Iron Lung, you don't have to know of it in order to read this fic. I believe I wrote it so that anyone might enjoy it.

Please note the tags and content warning for this fic. It will be dark and heavy, including suicidal thoughts, psychological horror, reality-bending, and blood. It's an ocean of blood, I can't stress that enough. Chapter warnings will not include those tags I just listed as that will be consistent throughout the fic, but I will include chapter warnings for specific events such as drowning or injury.

Enjoy!

[0vergrowngraveyard]

finally…… after 1 million years

[hurglewurm]

you know what i'm doin pretty well on this essay considering i woke up at 2pm today

[fiercestpurpose]

essay writing hack: when i'm struggling with a long paper, i will simply convert my inquiry question into a series of smaller questions, type out the questions as like shorter-answer prompts for myself with rough guidelines as to word count (e.g. 200 words, 400 words), and then answer the prompts. it circumvents the part of my brain that is worried about formatting the essay correctly AND it allows me to get my ideas down without being daunted by the size of the task.

[ambrosiagourmet]

This Rin post is almost 2500 words and counting 😅

[viiioca]

welcome - when was it lacking? when was it extended? which of those moments lingers most strongly in their mind?

The first night in your new home, you hide in the attic.

The manor's hallways yawn like a predator's mouth. You have walked them all your life at your mother's heels like a ghost-girl, but she's gone now and you have no skirts to hide behind. There are too many eyes and too few voices. Staff once your equal – girls the same age and same lowborn breeding as you – move around you like the shadows of hunting birds. No one smiles unless it's to pity you. You feel like a rabbit caught out of cover, trapped somewhere between the den and the dinner table.

The moment you are left alone, you flee.

You know your way around the manor's hollows, as intimate to you as the heart lines criss-crossing your palms. You wedge yourself into a crawlspace – nearly too small now for your growing bones – and emerge in a cramped storage room made warm by the bare stone of a chimney. You played here with dolls, once.  In the cold and the dust and the dim lantern-light, you finally feel like you can breathe. You want to sleep here on the hardwood. You want to stay here until the house forgets you exist within it like some transplanted organ awaiting rejection.

A bell or two passes before the short hatch of a door scrapes open. In comes the sound of breathing, the knocking of knees and elbows awkwardly clambering into your hiding spot. You watch a set of cramped limbs unfold into an elezen boy hauling an oil lamp in one hand and a bag much too big for him in another.

"There you are," Verain says. Verain who grew up in this world half-shared with you, three years your elder and still a fulm shorter, ever-waiting for his growth spurt; Verain who could not possibly be less like his mother, save for his black hair and quick tongue. He drops next to you like a sack of laundry, leg bumping leg. "You weren't at dinner."

"I wasn't hungry," you say. You do not say that your stomach has been full of stones since it happened. You do not say that everything tastes like smoke.

"Thought as much." He pulls a lumpy tea towel out of the bag and unrolls it atop your thigh, revealing a traveler's meal: flaky bread and butter and apple jam, a slim wedge of soft cheese, a fistful of proud red grapes. "It's not much, but. You know."

He waves his hand. You know.

"Oh, and the cook sent this too." He retrieves a glass bottle wrapped in another tea towel; you can feel its warmth. Mulled wine. They water it down in the kitchen for children, you know, because you are not old enough for the proper strength, but it's comfortable and familiar like a bedtime story. He pours some into a mug and offers it like a pilgrim leaves coins at a waypoint. 

"Thank you," you say, gingerly taking the mug. Heat passes through the tips of your fingers, into your palms, up your wrists. The first sip is tentative, spicy-sweet, unsure that your body will not reject it and you will retch his kindness all over the attic floor – but it makes it down your throat and doesn't come back up. 

Progress is progress. Calm is calm.

"I'm sorry," Verain says quietly, small hands on the cold skin of your knuckles. No shortage of people have said this to you – but this, your churning insides say, is real. You believe him. The corners of your mouth manage a smile, and he smiles at you in turn.

You drink your wine and sit quietly with your soon-to-be brother until the lanterns dim and you drift off to sleep next to him, slumping, head on his shoulder. 

There's not much else you could ask for, in the end.

[youronebraincell]

Writing Peggynat smut while my grandmother’s singing gospel in the other room..

I’m going to hell

[draconixiaa]

dream's mask and symbolism

recently (or rather, some time ago, at this point) i saw a post on the symbolism over dreams mask but i felt awkward just putting my own opinions on a reblog so my spiel will appear here:

the purpose of a mask is to hide and/protect someone's face, whether it be about identity, physical image, or safety during a pandemic. thus, a person using a mask has something to protect: usually one of the three aforementioned concepts.

the mask: whole

cdream, his skin, obviously does not have a mask, but the characterization of him having a mask originates from cc!dream's facelessness. the popularity of that concept made it so that it is popularly accepted that cdream dons a mask wherever he goes, and the fact that his skin does not change much throughout the majority of the server also helps in the wide acceptance of this theme.

therefore, we establish that cdream wears a mask throughout the majority of the dsmp, up to ctommy unmasking dream during his disc confrontation and cquackity doing the same in prison, and then also after the prison arc until the very final lore stream.

physical image

cdream hiding his face means that he has something to hide & protect, and in literal terms, this would be his physical image. when someone wears a full face mask, no one would be able to know what they truly look like, and this gives them an element of mysteriousness, and in cdream's case with the simplicity of his mask, allows him to be even more terrifying. this also leads to my second point: by hiding his physical image, no one would be able to see how his appearance changes over the course of the storyline.

characterization

cdream's character changes drastically throughout the storyline of not just the disc saga but also with l'manburg/manburg/pogtopia/etc and the prison arc. he begins with pure intentions, ends with the same intentions, but all throughout, his method of reaching his ultimate goal changes: from manipulation, to war, destruction, and self-sacrifice, etc, etc. he becomes more and more desperate, more and more willing to do whatever he can to achieve his goal. he also initially refutes that he is a villain, but then changes to embrace that role more and more.

meanwhile, cdream is wearing a mask. his physical appearance does not change much; people are able to keep on easily believing that cdream is a powerful and ruthless character without much emotions. oh right, masks also hides someone's faces. literally and figuratively, as he further embraces his role as a villain, cdream dons a physical mask and a verbal one to distance himself from the server to be seen as such an evil character.

this image of a powerful and evil character is what the masks does for cdream. he (or this image of him) is everlasting, almost like a higher being, and a malicious one at that.

characterization II

but, in all truth, cdream is very vulnerable. for as much as he claims that he has destroyed his attachments, these very feelings of protection and homeliness are what drives him to do what he says and does, especially as revealed during the dsmp finale. he changes so much behind that mask.

the mask: destroyed

as mentioned above, this occurs arguably on two occasions: the disc confrontation or also in prison. both have similar but also different implications.

disc confrontation

it is at this finale that ctommy gets his moment; he shines by breaking away cdream's protective shell and getting his rightful vengeance by killing him twice before sending him to prison. he pressures cdream with the presence of the server to take off all of his armor, and proceeds to kill him. for some fans, the armor represents cdream's mask-- particularly the helmet-- since he is always seen with his armor on in the server. as is with almost every other pvp-oriented person on the server, but ive digressed. taking off the armor is part of taking off that which is hiding what is inside cdream: his physical body, and his well-being. perhaps in the scene where he is compelled to throw his armor into the hole is part of him letting go of his image of a tyrant, but personally, i'd disagree, since the disc confrontation was all planned and organized by cdream; the armor, perhaps, is just the first layer.

the confrontation was all supposed to be under control-- his control. the armor and hole scene, cdream probably would've predicted; he went along with ctommys commands without much resistance, and honestly, this moment is just as symbolic to ctommy as cdream. just as cdream is pretending to let go of his image, or his powerful image is forcefully shoved off of him: ctommy is doing to cdream what he did to ctommy. this is the retribution of the golden rule: treat others how you'd want them to treat you. just as how cdream stripped ctommy bare of all his friends and protection in exile, thus also ctommy to cdream of his items and the power that he held from having them, including both the advantage in pvp and his frightening image. dream probably knew this was going to happen, since thats what you do when you want to kill someone. but, after the armor and the hole scene, ctommy kills cdream-- once, which was alright, fine, he also knew this was going to happen, and then twice. by the time he came back after his first death, cdream was screaming for mercy.

the cdream deaths are also widely interpreted as him losing his mask. or at the very least, it cracks. maybe ctommy was merciful enough to leave the last bit on, or maybe it was all shaken off as cdream begged and pleaded to be let to live-- and then the reveal of the revive book in his hands. but before that, when cdream was being killed: this is the physical shaking off of his very precious lives, the two extra chances he has at living, something preciously irreplaceable. thus, cdream realizes that the situation is spiraling out of control. he has to time this very well, between satisfying ctommy's anger and the reveal of the revive book, as well as his life. this is a gamble on his life. at that moment, cdream is showing his own true desperation, freed from his mask out of fear of death, freed from his mask by ctommy (the very person he sought to control, and the very person seeking to destroy him). look at the irony!

prison & cquackity

perhaps the mask also represents the control the cdream believes that he has over his surroundings. in the prison, cdream is either maskless (going with the above scenario), or half-masked (for cquackity to finish destroying).

either way, cdream's maskless-ness represents how he has no protection, no outer image, nil, none. this protection manifests itself in cdreams mind as the perceived control he has over situations because of the image he believes he has created for himself, because with this villainy, he can control the movements and actions of others. in the prison, though, when he is fully unmasked, he is all open for his visitors to see and tear open and look for themselves: who cdream truly is. maybe this is a good thing, that people will be able to see his true self-- not a villain, but a man with hopes and dreams. thus, when cquackity comes around, what he does is tear cdream, already unmasked, further apart. there is no more armor to protect him, and inside the prison, all thats left of cdream is his real body, and his real mind. and by real i mean unmasked, and not faked.

i like the other interpretation better though: that cdream goes into the prison half-masked. he still has a semblance of control, because he has punz, and technoblade, right? he planned for himself to go to prison... but what he didn't plan for was cquackity's deal with the warden. this is when he loses the rest of his mask, because this is when he loses complete control over not just the situation, but what happens to his own body, and he also can no longer influence other people, because he has no more power. he's being starved, tortured, and confined in a box with no escape nor contact with anything outside the prison; when cquackity comes, csam shuts down the ability for anyone else other than cquackity to visit cdream. so this, the point when he loses the rest of his physical mask is the same as the point when loses the rest of anything, any thing else that he could possibly have control over.

the mask: re-made

after prison, what does cdream do?

cdream gets his armor again, and he puts his mask back on. this mask physically and symbolically hides the effects of the prison on his being: the scars of both the body and the mind. he goes back to being powerful, being a big bad end-game boss, hiding in his mighty prison of which no longer traps him but is his safe place (a whole analysis post on the prison can be made holy) but also to others, the evil villain's lair... cdream resumes his status quo from before the prison. but, he is Not Alright underneath the mask-- but who can tell? who would want to tell, and try to see underneath the mask?

because on the server, there aren't many people who are willing to uncover the mask that cdream has laid over himself, the act that he puts on to be a villain in order to achieve his goals. part of the reason why cdream's 'mask' never gets 'taken off' is because no one cares enough about the true him-- and funnily enough, the only four/five people on the server are: cpunz, ctechnoblade, ctommy, and cquackity. and chbomb lmao. but thats besides the point: half of the people care about his "true self" because they are friends and close allies, while the other half want to reveal it to be able to hurt and destroy him. everyone else only think too shallowly about him: to them, cdream is an evil character harboring evil intentions, and thus the reasons behind said intentions are also similarly evil-- because they need a face to despise.

but its important to note that it isnt just cdream aiming to make himself a villain; it is everyone else as much as he. it's like a negative feedback loop, and i also want to point out that it was all started by cwilbur, who was the first to antagonize cdream as a major villain.

so, both during and after the prison, this feedback loop is why the villainous image of cdream persists. during the disc confrontation, all that happened was that the people were shown that cdream is not strong but weak. yet, just because he's now weak and defeated doesn't mean that the shadow of his villainy won't haunt him or the other uninvolved server members.

the mask: the end

at the very last stream, what is known as the dsmp finale between cdream and ctommy: something shifts. at the very end of the stream, after they argue and argue and argue, trying to get the moral upper hand, tommy trying to gain sympathy, displaying to the world all their differences and oppositions as if they can never, ever agree... ctommy gets killed in the heat of the argument. he gets revived. and he undergoes a revelation.

here, ctommy is very crucial to the moment because he gets dream to take off his helmet, which, in that moment, likely represents cdream's mask. because it is only after that moment that cdream starts talking about the real reasons why he's doing stuff, that he wants everyone to be a happy family, just like how he did privately to punz on the night after the butcher army. here, cdream starts being genuine; he asks: "is it not too late?" to his greatest nemesis.

here, the mask represents all the false narratives that he put forth, and perhaps all the sins that came along with them, and it reveals him: he who did evil for the sake of good, he who sold his soul for the world, he who told his friends, showed his friends, that he is evil-- for the sake of all of his friends and their friendship. it reveals him, as a man, his true face and physical appearance, taking off a bit of the armor that protects him.

this moment where cdream takes off his mask and starts asking if its possible for change is a culmination of cdream and ctommy's character: mutual understanding and hope.

the mask is like a wall that prevents cdream from seeing eye-to-eye with anyone, from reaching mutual understanding from anyone (except for cpunz ig, who supports him no matter how evil he is). by getting cdream to taking off the mask, he gets cdream to reveal the truth, but also understand that there is hope for the future. a better future.

(we dont talk about the nuke)

cdream personally taking off his mask during this time also directly contrasts with how ctommy and cquackity forcibly takes it off of him. there, they are removing the illusion of control cdream has-- to the people of dsmp, and then to cdream himself; yet, despite having everything taken away from him, he still holds close to his heart his ultimate goals. but, at the nuke finale, it is cdream deciding to reveal his thoughts and feelings himself, and this is crucial to his character's growth. even with all his armor on and cpunz is with him, he takes off his mask, his emotional barrier of sorts, to be able to tell the truth: his truth.

Conclusion

cdream's mask has been crucial to his characterization throughout the different arcs and storylines. while in physical depictions, it is an object that hides and protects one's physical appearance, it also affects the image of his character by providing an element of mystery and notoriety.

through the disc confrontation with ctommy and the torture cdream experienced by the hands of cquackity and csam, we can see them forcibly remove cdream's mask and do away with whatever semblance of power and control cdream has-- both over the people of the server, as well as cdream himself.

when cdream returns from the prison, it's as if nothing had changed; this is because of how established his image already is, and this emphasizes his loneliness (with the exception of cpunz) and continues to cast shadows on the rest of the smp.

finally, in the dsmp nuke finale, cdream ultimately decides to take of his mask on his own and reveals his intentions, displaying strong character development and hope.

tldr: the mask protects cdream, assists in his spiral to evil, and is also a tool used to represent changes in his characterization and his situation.

[purplerebel101]

I finished the prologue!

I have just finished fleshing and writing out the Stobotnik POTO AU fanfic prologue! (it's currently 10pm, hence the face down Freddy with a thumbs up GIF)

It takes place in the future from when the main story is set (which I will likely not make clear what century cause...i dunno).

Anyway, I'll get to editing and then I'll start writing up chapter 1. Once done, I'll be posting BOTH on A03.

Stay tunned✌️