#don’t mind the mediocre art i just wanted this idea out there

[kirbyepicyarn134]

it’s a dog’s life

[spankingtheatre]

How to become an Erotic Writer

Ssh. Keep it quiet. But here's the secret pathway to becoming an erotic writer:

1. Write privately, dismiss own work as rubbish

2. Maybe not so bad, feel the yearning to share

3. Hit publish for first time with thumping heart and trembling fingers

4. Hey, this is fun!

5. Someone sends a message saying your writing made them come

6. Bliss 💕

The biggest requirement is to be passionate about what you write. Only passion will get you over that initial barrier of self-criticism and embarrassment, the one that stops most people from revealing themselves and posting their creations in public.

Choosing what to write on matters. My approach is to pick something I’m so desperate to have rendered into words, that I just can’t bear to let it go unwritten. This has always been how I've approached writing, if I don’t have any enthusiasm for an idea, it goes into a drafts folder and remains uncompleted.

You know that powerful urge you once felt when you yearned for a major crush? You should feel that way about what you write. Because great writing isn't about choosing the 'right' words, or constructing a complex enough plot, or coming up with an ingenious astonishing twist. Storytelling is the art of transforming passion into words.

Writing is never about choosing the right words, stories aren't crossword puzzles. It's not about obeying some obtuse Holy Rules Of Literature, the greatest masterpieces tend to break them anyway. Great writing is distinguished by one factor above all: how well you can capture your own passion.

Writing is like trapping lightning in a bottle. The best stories are made real by our most primal energies. Unless I feel erotically energised by a story, and a force akin to lust compelling me to finish it, I know it will be mediocre. You don't need to write novels. Or thirty page stories. Just write as much as your passion can fuel.

Once you connect yourself to your own internal passion you'll never need to force yourself to write. My motivation for writing isn't fame or money, it's to get into The Zone. No other experience brings me as much joy or feels so liberating. I let the words flow out of my mind, and as they glow on my screen, I feel the unique satisfaction that comes from being the creator of worlds.

And then, finally, I click the publish button. That can be scary at first, but it gets easier, as you appreciate the magic of what you're doing.

I just love knowing what I’ve crafted is flying all around the world, into the eager minds of distant strangers, it’s like casting a magic spell.

And who wouldn’t want to do an activity like that?

[quindriepress]

We’ve worked with so many fantastic creators over the past two years, all with different styles, creative processes, and approaches to comic-making. Here’s 16 artists’ advice for aspiring comic creators!

“You really just have to do it. Start something, get that experience, finish it or not - move onto the next project. Gotta keep going. Comics take time. Might as well start now.” - @sticksandsharks

"Read comics you love and try to figure out why they are so good, read as broadly as you can and try as many different styles and ideas as you can. Follow what is fun and interesting to you, rather than what seems like the “professional” or “right” way to do it.” - @toadlett

"Start with something small, maybe a few panels or a few pages, and finish it. Then do the same again. Making comics can be a very solitary activity, so find others that are doing the same thing, and do it with support.” - Julie Campbell

“Don’t wait until you’re a comics master to start making something, you will learn so much more by sitting down and drawing. You can always come back to your original idea and try it a different way. You might love your next attempt.” - Jem Milton

“Tell stories YOU want to tell. There’s no real value in chasing trends - others are already doing it after all. What people are interested in is reading the story only YOU can tell. You have a unique life experience that no-one else can replicate.” - Chris Manson

“A simple, practical piece of advice I would give someone would be to get a cork board. Being able to use a cork board to lay out your thumbnails is very useful! Just seeing it all laid out can help reduce the anxiety of a larger project.” - Thomas Heitler

“Finish comics. A mediocre finished story is always better than an unfinished/unseen magnum opus. Making mistakes and bad art is something everyone should get used to.” - Jack Devereaux

“Try to entertain yourself and maybe one or two other people. Make comics for in-jokes no one else understands, or ideas that come to your mind. Try not to think about doing everything all at once.” - Robbie Kieran

“Don’t worry too much about finishing things. Even an unfinished project will teach you an incredible amount. Don’t let a fear of an unfinished work hold you back from starting a project that you’re passionate about.” - @ariadnearca

“Drop the ‘aspiring’ and dive in. Have you already doodled the cool scenes you’re excited about? Then congrats, you’re a comic artist. Get started on page 1 so I can see it.” - @spiremint

“Create the stories you want to make and that you want to read. Forget about what you think a publisher or a potential audience might want.” - @domduongart

“Make sure you’re making comics for YOU, not what you think other people want! If you have enthusiasm for your project, it will always shine through. If it’s a slog, and you’re not enjoying it, hit the bricks!” - @elljwalker

“Keep going. Keep obsessing over those things you love. Keep making things. Keep sharing them with people. Take breaks.” - @pppondi

“Your comic will never be perfect, but thats okay - it’s good even! You learn while you work, even if it’s just learning what you would change next time. It’s good to make mistakes, it’s good to learn and grow.” - @kroovv

“If you want to be a creator, you should create for yourself. You’ll always have an audience that way. I think people that appreciate good comics can see work that’s honest. Just be yourself. There is always a place for you.” - @prehistoricfrog

“If you have a story, get it down. You don’t need to consider yourself a comic artist to make a comic. If you can draw, and you need to say something, just start drawing boxes and see where it goes.” - @bethfuller

If you’d like to pick up a comic from any of the artists featured here, check out the Quindrie Press shop or the Kickstarter we’re running for our new comic collection!

What's your advice for people who are just starting out in comics?

[jfleamont]

I think it's noteworthy how Sn*ly is all about Sn*p* changing for/because of Lily and how a lot of Jily fans don't like the idea of James changing only for/because of Lily. [I just saw your post talking about James and Lily in sixth year]

Hello! This is something I've thought about a lot.

As I said in the post (here it is), there is a substantial difference between changing for yourself and changing for someone else.

Now, there's nothing wrong with someone inspiring you to change for the better: people can and should be a positive influence on you, especially the ones closest to you. This is not Snape's case in my opinion. Lily tried to stop him from pursuing the dark arts, she showed there was an alternative, but he refused to listen. When she made the choice to cut him out of her life, he didn't accept it and kept harassing her. When he found out Voldemort wanted to kill the Potters, he asked him to spare Lily, and only Lily.

Did he behave differently after she died? You'd think he'd learn a thing or two from the love of his life, like compassion and kindness. Like being good without an ulterior motive. But no, he heavily bullied kids - and not just any kids, we're talking about his students - and was incredibly biased towards Harry because he was his enemy's son. He criticised James' bullying but he did the same thing even as an adult. Sounds a bit hypocritical to me.

It can be argued that Snape was just pretending to be horrible because he couldn't let his cover be blown. And it can also be argued that he grew fond of Harry but never showed it. Let's assume all of this is true... Am I right in thinking that being so hideous came way too easily to him? And what's more important, are we sure he didn't want Voldemort dead purely because he had killed Lily? After all, we have plenty of evidence that he's extremely prone to holding grudges. It makes sense that he'd want to get revenge against the man who didn't spare Lily's life.

We do not know if he had other reasons, but even the memories that Harry sees in the pensieve reinforce my theory. I'll play devil's advocate and not take into account the things he said or did as a Hogwarts student because many people think that he was just being an immature teenager. So let's see what we have:

“If she means so much to you,” said Dumbledore, “surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for mercy for the mother, in exchange for the son?” “I have—I have asked him—” “You disgust me,” said Dumbledore, and Harry had never heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to shrink a little, “You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?” Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore.

And then:

“The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does.” There was a long pause, and slowly Snape regained control of himself, mastered his own breathing. At last he said, “Very well. Very well. But never—never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear... especially Potter’s son... I want your word!”

But this is when the pain is still fresh, right? Maybe he wasn't thinking clearly. Let's see another passage, ten years later, during Harry's first year, where Snape is 31:

“—mediocre, arrogant as his father, a determined rulebreaker, delighted to find himself famous, attention-seeking and impertinent—”

This is how Snape describes Harry to Dumbledore, the one person he didn't need to lie to, the only person who knew he was a double agent. But then again, this is just at the beginning, he didn't know Harry that well. Maybe he'll change his mind in the future? Let's take a look at the scene where Dumbledore asks him to kill him:

“If you don’t mind dying,” said Snape roughly, “why not let Draco do it?” “That boy’s soul is not yet so damaged,” said Dumbledore. “I would not have it ripped apart on my account.” “And my soul, Dumbledore? Mine?”

Sounds like he doesn't want to be the cause of yet another person's death. Understandable. Snape isn't being selfish at all, no. He's worried about his poor soul, who cares about the soul of 16 year old Draco, am I right? Maybe this next passage will redeem him:

“Why? You aren’t trying to give him more detentions, Severus? The boy will soon have spent more time in detention than out.” “He is his father over again—” “In looks, perhaps, but his deepest nature is much more like his mother’s. I spend time with Harry because I have things to discuss with him, information I must give him before it is too late.” “Information,” repeated Snape. “You trust him... you do not trust me.” “It is not a question of trust. I have, as we both know, limited time. It is essential that I give the boy enough information for him to do what he needs to do.” “And why may I not have the same information?” “I prefer not to put all of my secrets in one basket, particularly not a basket that spends so much time dangling on the arm of Lord Voldemort.” “Which I do on your orders!” “And you do it extremely well. Do not think that I underestimate the constant danger in which you place yourself, Severus. To give Voldemort what appears to be valuable information while withholding the essentials is a job I would entrust to nobody but you.” “Yet you confide much more in a boy who is incapable of Occlumency, whose magic is mediocre, and who has a direct connection into the Dark Lord’s mind!” [...] “You refuse to tell me everything, yet you expect that small service of me!” snarled Snape, and real anger flared in the thin face now. “You take a great deal for granted, Dumbledore! Perhaps I have changed my mind!”

Let's see... He's comparing Harry to James again, calls him mediocre and he's jealous because Dumbledore trusts Harry more than Snape. Oh, and he threatens to turn to the dark side if he doesn't get what he wants. This is a 37 year old man. Perhaps he's just upset because Dumbledore is dying? Yeah, that's it. Let's give him another chance:

Another long silence. Then Snape said, “I thought... all those years... that we were protecting him for her. For Lily.”

[...] “You have used me.” “Meaning?” “I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter’s son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter—” “But this is touching, Severus,” said Dumbledore seriously. “Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?” “For him?” shouted Snape. “Expecto Patronum!” From the tip of his wand burst the silver doe. She landed on the office floor, bounded once across the office, and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were full of tears. “After all this time?” “Always,” said Snape.

I don't know, maybe they should protect Harry simply because he's a kid and he doesn't deserve to die? Isn't that enough? He doesn't have to be Lily's son to be worthy of staying alive. And when Dumbledore insinuates that he cares about Harry, Snape makes it clear that no, it's not for him, and after all these years... It's still for Lily. Because he's asking for her forgiveness. Noble, right? It's not as if you should do good things because it's the right thing to do.

Snape took the page bearing Lily’s signature, and her love, and tucked it inside his robes. Then he ripped in two the photograph he was also holding, so that he kept the part from which Lily laughed, throwing the portion showing James and Harry back onto the floor, under the chest of drawers...

Oh look! He's stealing a letter that wasn't addressed to him! And he's stealing the photograph as well! Well, not all of it, why would he care about James and Harry? Totally normal and justified behaviour from a man who's nearing his forties. Not possessive at all. He definitely deserves to keep that photograph of Lily more than Harry does.

... Sarcasm aside, Snape didn't change his ways. He didn't change his morals.

(Also, in the book Snape never says 'You have your mother's eyes', which, along with Alan Rickman's wonderful perfomance, greatly contributed to Snape being considered a good man. He does ask Harry to look at him, though, implying he wanted to see Lily's eyes one last time. Which makes me think that even up until the end he only saw Harry as an extension of Lily, and not as his own person.)

Unfortunately we don't have nearly enough information about James, but we do know that he saved Snape when he went after Remus to the Shrieking Shack when they were in school, while Snape was perfectly happy to let Lily's husband and son die if it meant she could live. James wasn't a saint when he was younger, and Lily reminded him all the time how much she despised his behaviour. But as I said in the other post, the incident at the lake was eye-opening for both Lily and James. It's clear that he hadn't realised that his actions could have hurt her prior to that. He was a sheltered and ignorant kid, but we know from canon that he grew up. He became responsible enough to be appointed Head Boy without any previous experience as a prefect, and then he joined the Order. Sounds to me like he proved he could grow. Personally I think that Lily wouldn't have let James into her life if she didn't truly think he had changed. Saying that she was brainwashed into marrying James is an insult to her intelligence. It's as if she has no will of her own, no choice, no autonomy. Which is simply no true. This is the same woman who refused to join Voldemort after being offered to, who refused to step aside when Voldemort arrived at Godric's Hollow.

Snape's love - if you want to call it that - for Lily is conditional; James' love for her is selfless. He could have lived a long life but chose to fight and die for the cause. And he made this choice long before they were together, by befriending people like Sirius (a traitor), Remus (a monster) and Peter (an outcast). And after Snape stops poisoning Lily's mind - insulting and judging James and his friends - Lily is free. When he is removed from the equation, Lily is allowed to grow.

In conclusion: Snape did not change and become a better person, and even if he did, it was for selfish reasons.

[wavyhairedvixen]

Hard work pays off

pov: Loki as an art teacher

tags:

f/m, Loki x reader

18+ content, porn with plot, spanking

Summary: This semester you get sorted into the class of the most demanding art teacher named Master Laufeyson, which results in conflicts between the two of you. Even though he keeps giving you harsh criticism you stay determined. You decide to prove him how wrong he was when he called you mediocre, and you start to work on your sculptures night and day with such passion like never before. All the while, you can’t get him out of your mind… Your thoughts are consumed by his gestures with those big hands, and his impeccable style. One night as you work in the studio all alone he unexpectedly shows up, surprised that you’re still there. It pleases him to see you working overtime just to prove him your worth.

Master Laufeyson keeps watching you from afar. You’re not aware of your teacher’s presence, as you keep carving the wood. The studio’s warm air is filled with the soothing scent of pine trees.. A song from Sting is playing in the background, and you occasionally sing along to the music. As your master comes up behind you with his signature inaudible steps, you get a whiff of his minty cologne. Your heart skips a beat as the realization hits you. You whip around, redness tinting your cheeks.

“Good evening, master!” you smile awkwardly.

“It’s impressive how persistent you are; not many students have your mindset, you know.” He taps his bottom lip with his index finger, stepping closer to your artwork, taking in its fine details.

You can’t believe his words… Is he mocking you? No, he seems dead serious. You are too shocked to speak, disbelief plastered on your face.

“You proved your talent to me, little one! Look at your sculptures, they are full of emotion,” he remarks with a self-contented smile.

“Master… You put me through all this misery to…” you mumble searching for words, furrowing your brows.

“For your own sake, yes. And look how well it tured out!” he looks you up and down with a twinkle in his eyes. “I think we should drink to that,” he says cheerfully and snaps his fingers. Two glasses and a bottle of wine appear out of nowhere in a cloud of green smoke on a table.

“What the…” you stare at it with your mouth agape. “I must be going crazy”, you think to yourself. “First you’re being nice to me, then it turns out you’re a magician.” You burst out laughing. “I can’t believe this…”

“There you go, my dear!” He hands you a glass of wine. “Just to make it clear, I’m not a magician, I am a god. And please, don’t tell a soul about this! Oh, actually, you can, since they wouldn’t believe you anyway…” he chuckles, watching you gulp down your wine. “Another one?”

“Definitely!” You let him refill your glass as you look him in the eyes. “I don’t care who you are… You have no idea how much your harsh remarks hurt me!” you say bitterly. “I understand that you wanted to challenge me, but was it really necessary to humiliate me in front of the whole class?”

“I’m sorry, I might have gone a bit too far sometimes. Can I make it up to you?”, he asks with a sly smile stepping closer, his gaze resting on your lips. He places his hands on your hips and dips his head to place a soft kiss on your lips. You close your eyes and kiss him back sensually, savouring the moment.

“You needed to learn some discipline in order to reach your full potential…” he whispers, breaking the kiss for a moment while running his fingertips along your sides.

“Oh, shut up…” you hiss with an annoyed look, peering up at him.

He grabs your chin with one hand and pulls you closer with the other, holding you in his firm grip. “Choose your words carefully, when you’re talking to your master, or I’ll have to teach you some manners, kitten!”

Your cheekiness seems to have aroused him just as much as his authoritative tone has stirred something within you. He kisses you more passionately this time, showing you who’s in charge. His tongue is smooth and relaxed as he strokes yours slowly, letting his hand wander to the inside of one of your thighs.

“God, he’s a good kisser!” you think to yourself.

As you both pull away for some air, you say through laboured breaths, “You know what I think? That you actually had a lot of fun tormenting me with your cruel words, you psycho…”

“I warned you to watch your mouth!” He pinches your butt, earning a squeak from you. “I think it’s time to teach you a lesson!” He rubs the spot where he previously pinched you, then turns you around by your waist and locks one of his big hands around your throat, pressing himself against you. You can feel his erection poking your rear as he cups one of your breasts with his other hand. “Just to make it clear: you’re mine,” he whispers as he nuzzles his nose along your neck, biting your earlobe tenderly. “Obey me, and I’ll reward you… Disobey me and bear the consequences…” his hot breath tickles your ear and you practically melt into his touch.

He traces his fingers along your chest and abdomen, all the way down to your thighs. The next thing you know is that you’re naked, and leather straps have formed around your thighs, waist and tits. He lifts both of your hands above your head and you feel a rope form around your wrists, holding you in place. You gasp as he tugs on your harness by the waistband.

“Oh, God… this feels… so tight. So good…” you groan. Then he lets go of your neck and smacks your butt with a gloved hand. “Ow!” you feel a stinging pain where he slapped you, warmth spreading over your ass cheek, being followed by a tingling sensation.

Wetness coats your folds as he smacks your other cheek too, chuckling darkly, “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you this time, darling…” He steps away, admiring his work.

“Please… Master!” you whine, tugging against your restraint, looking back at him over your shoulder. He steps closer, kissing your neck and sliding his gloved hand over your pussy.

“Please, what? You want more, you wicked little thing?” Your arousal coats the smooth leather of the glove as he rubs your clit.

“Mhmm…”

“You’re enjoying your punishment a bit too much, don’t you think?” he coos and bites your neck.

You feel his teeth sink into your skin and his warm tongue licking a stripe over the mark he left. Then he slaps your butt with his gloved hand again. As the wet leather makes contact with your skin you cry out from the pain. But soon the pain dissolves and that same pleasant warm tingling lingers as before. You’re a moaning mess by the time he releases your hands and turnes you around kissing a trail down your body. He stops at one of your breasts, sucking and nibbling on your nipple while groping the other one, pinching your bud between two of his long fingers. You can feel your arousal dripping down the insides of your thighs.

“Please! I’m aching for your touch, master…”

“Patience, pet… I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. I wanted to fuck you unconscious the first time I laid eyes on you, and believe me, keeping my cool was a challenge whenever I saw these curves in those tight dresses.” He gets on his knees pecking kisses around your navel. “You have no idea how excrutiating it was for me to admire your delectable body without ever laying a finger on it.” He emphasises his statement by licking over your mound, while groping your ass, pulling you into his face.

“Ahh…” you moan, practically trembling with anticipation as you run your fingers through his hair.

He starts to quite literally devour you, and your knees go weak as you reach your orgasm. With one precise thrust of his tongue against your clit, he sends you over the edge, your body buckling against his mouth, as you cry out. He licks up the nectar oozing out of you, with a satisfied groan, making such obscene noises that you blush a deep shade of red.

Suddenly, footsteps and the creaking sound of an opening door fill the silence. You freeze on the spot, hand gripping your master’s shoulder. Unbothered, he waves one of his hands and in an instant, you find yourselves in a nicely furnished room with a huge bed at its center.

Your eyes go wide. “That was fucking close!”

“Did the previous situation excite you?” he asks with a wicked grin, wiping your arousal off of his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I could get expelled for what we did, you crazy bastard!”

“That filthy mouth of yours is gonna be the death of me…”

He stands up, his tall figure looming over you as he guides your wrist to his crotch. Your fingers glide over the bulge in his pants, before you start to unbuckle his belt and pull down his trousers and underwear. You wrap both of your hands around his long and thick cock, pecking a gentle kiss on the tip. You pull back the skin and lick along his cock then take the tip into your mouth. You moan as you let him slide deeper, sucking on him, stroking the base of his cock with your hands, picking up your pace while doing so. As you keep bobbing your head you look up at him. He peers down at you, eyes heavy with adoration and lust. You moan around his cock as you let it slide into your throat, your muscles contracting around his shaft. He groans as he cums into your mouth and you swallow his hot seed.

He caresses your cheek with his thumb as he purrs, “Good girl…”

“Brother!” you freeze as a thunderous voice shakes the corridor outside.

[spel16]

True, but don’t misinterpret this as meaning that AIs replicating art is a bad / useless thing

Since in certain aspects the art that AIs are now learning to create art be meaningless labor preventing people from creating art that needs drawings or music or the like

Now I don’t mean any offense to any of the insanely talent artists that might be reading this, but you’re slow and expensive

Which is understandable, because I’m comparing you to fucking AI

It’s the point that they are faster and cheaper than humans, and they sure are those 2 things, they make good enough drawings almost instantly

So why isn’t their mediocre work bad? Because anybody can use it to make actual art from it

Let’s say you’ve got the inspiration and motivation to make a game, you still have work/school so you can’t commit to much time into it and you don’t have the funds to hire anybody to help with the production

Now let’s go further and say you want to sell this game on [ONLINE MARKETPLACE], well if you want people to take it seriously you need good assets

So which of these looks the most appealing:

1. Make the assets yourself, this wil cost the most of time, giving you a result you aren’t and will never be happy with, and the people playing the game will also immediately see that the artist was new

2. Use free to use assets / buy some general assets from a store, this wil also not be ideal since it forces you to make a game around the assets instead of assets around the game

3. Let an ai do it, an ai’s work may never match a humans in terms of underlying meaning, but they sure can draw 100 pictures of a guy holding a sword in slightly different poses

Ai will take some jobs as soon as it reaches this point of competence, and yes that’s shit, I won’t sugar coat it, the artists that have spent thousands of hours honing their craft shouldn’t have to worry about being replaced by some wires

But to look at the possitves, the ai will be a tool for the average hoe to make art, and to get people to take it seriously

I’ve made a number of designs in my time, but one underlying feature for all of them was that people didn’t fully take them seriously until it had some art on it, even if all your showcasing is a neat costum card for this card game or an idea for a board game, people want visuals and ai delivers them

Sry for the rant, and for the numerous spelling mistakes but I just felt I needed to get this out of my mind

[tacticalhimbo]

Star Wars

you just want me to talk about obi-wan, don't you. because you know i will—

[send me a fandom]

The first character I first fell in love with: ... boy gee golly i wonder who it could possibly be. jk. it absolutely was obi-wan. specifically attack of the clones obi-wan like. the long hair just hit ok i'm sorry. then i saw revenge of the sith obi-wan and it was joever from that moment. have not and will never be normal about mr. kenobi

The character I never expected to love as much as I do now: darth maul. genuinely. i remember lowkey being creeped out by him bc i'd only seen the live action portrayal back in the day(tm) but like... after getting into comics and the animated series? and also growing up? i get it. i love him so much it is unreal. he is so tragic.

The character everyone else loves that I don’t: ... kylo ren. i would like to apologize before i am crucified but i just. listen. i didn't mind the later trilogy. i absolutely have my issues with it (looking at the fact finn was supposed to be written as a more primary character and as a queer character (allegedly) and potentially force-sensitive but pushed aside because they thought the white woman would be more interesting) but like. i'm not a hater. i am perfectly fine with mediocre. that said... he just gives me ick. not hate to adam driver (unless he's done some shit idk about then absolutely all hate to him too)

The character I love that everyone else hates: jar jar binks. fuck y'all i love this gungan with my whole heart. and i understand the genuine criticisms for the way he was portrayed (re: the fact he absolutely can be read as and has been read as a caricature of black folk by black academics) and i absolutely agree with a lot of what has been said. but that's not the point of it, because criticism is good. it's the fact people went so far as to harass the actor (ahmed best) to the point he genuinely considered suicide? hm. hm. i don't like that. esp bc people sent him death threats and made him genuinely unsafe with their actions like. c'mon now.

The character I used to love but don’t any longer: hmmm... i don't not love him. i do love him. i'm just more normal about him now. but hondo. he's just that guy. less a blorbo and more like that cool and kinda concerning uncle.

The character I would totally smooch: can i say all of them? because genuinely i could not pick just one like. fuck dude. for sake of picking one boba fett i wanna kiss his bald head (and then some-)

The character I’d want to be like: ... obi-wan 🥺 i wish i had that man's tenacity and patience and kindness.

The character I’d slap: paz vizsla. and then i would smooch him. i hate him. i love him. i am sad he died.

A pairing that I love: speaking of paz!!! you got me hooked on the idea of him and bo-katan i am obsessed with how toxic they are <3

A pairing that I despise: obikin... i'm sorry that is a father and his son to me i do not see the appeal. i cannot be convinced. i have seen the untagged art. i have had the displeasure of reading y'all's headcanons and ficlets. i just. cannot. see it.

[my-path-to-business]

My Path to a Print-On-Demand Business

Unleashing Creativity for Pillow Image Design

Hey everyone,

Welcome back to my journey into the world of print-on-demand (POD) 🌟. Today, I want to dive into the creative process behind designing pillow images, finding inspiration, and identifying a unique niche in a crowded market. And don’t worry, I’ve sprinkled in some jokes to keep things lively! 😂

Finding Inspiration: A Creative Adventure

When I first started designing pillows, I knew I wanted each design to be unique and meaningful 💡. But finding that spark of inspiration wasn't always easy. Here's how I navigated this creative adventure:

Exploring Online Resources: I began by browsing various online platforms like Pinterest, Instagram, and design blogs 📱. These platforms are treasure troves of ideas, showcasing everything from abstract patterns to detailed illustrations. I created mood boards to collect and organize my favorite ideas. It's like window shopping, but without the awkward moments when you realize you can't afford anything! 🛍️

AI Assistance: Leveraging AI tools has been a game-changer for my design process 🤖. AI can generate countless variations of a design concept, helping me experiment with colors, patterns, and styles that I might not have considered otherwise. However, even with AI, finding the right designs can be incredibly challenging. It requires patience and a lot of trial and error to create something truly unique. Think of it as trying to find a needle in a digital haystack, but at least this haystack won’t give you splinters! 🪡

Real-Life Inspiration: Sometimes, the best inspiration comes from the world around us 🌍. Nature, architecture, and everyday objects can spark amazing design ideas. I often take walks to clear my mind and observe the details in my environment, which often leads to wonderful design concepts 🌿. Plus, it’s a good excuse to get out of the house – and avoid my ever-growing pile of laundry! 🧺

Identifying a Unique Niche

With so many designs and styles out there, finding a unique niche is crucial 🔍. Here’s how I approached this challenge:

Market Research: I spent considerable time researching the market 📊. I visited popular POD platforms like Etsy and Amazon to see what types of pillow designs were trending 🔥. This helped me identify gaps in the market and areas with high demand but low competition. It’s like detective work, but without the trench coat and magnifying glass 🕵️‍♂️.

Analyzing Competitors: I looked closely at successful shops and brands 🏪. What themes and styles were they using? How did they present their products? By understanding their strategies, I could pinpoint what made them successful and think about how to differentiate my designs. Think of it as studying for an exam, but the exam is “How Not to Blend In” 🎓.

The Challenge of Standing Out

One of the biggest challenges I faced was creating designs that stood out in a sea of similar products 🌊. Here are a few strategies that helped:

Personal Touch: Adding a personal touch to each design made them unique ✨. Whether it’s a pattern inspired by an experience or a design reflecting a particular theme, these elements make my pillows special. It’s like adding secret sauce to a recipe – makes all the difference! 🍔

Quality Over Quantity: Instead of flooding the market with numerous designs, I focused on creating high-quality, well-thought-out products 🏆. Each design goes through multiple iterations to ensure it’s perfect. Quality over quantity, because who wants a bunch of mediocre pillows? Not me! ❌

Storytelling: Every design has a story behind it 📖. Sharing these stories in my product descriptions and marketing materials helps create a connection with customers ❤️. It’s not just a pillow; it’s a piece of art with a meaningful background. Plus, everyone loves a good story – especially one that doesn’t end with, “and then I woke up.” 💤

Early Challenges and Moving Forward

After one week of opening my store, I faced the harsh reality that I had no sales 😢. This initial hurdle was disheartening, but it also motivated me to delve deeper into the world of SEO and marketing. I'm currently working on optimizing my listings to increase visibility and attract potential buyers 📈. It's like trying to get noticed at a crowded party – time to bring out the dance moves (or in this case, the SEO strategies) 🕺. I'll be sharing more about my SEO efforts in the next series, so stay tuned! 📺

Final Thoughts

The journey to find inspiration and carve out a unique niche in the pillow design market has been both challenging and rewarding 🌈. It requires creativity, research, and a willingness to stand out. By leveraging various resources, analyzing successful shops, and adding a personal touch to each design, I've been able to create pillows that resonate with customers 💖.

Thank you for joining me on this creative journey. I look forward to sharing more insights and experiences as I continue to grow my POD business 🚀. Stay tuned for more updates and, as always, happy designing! 🎨

Warm regards, Ivo

https://www.etsy.com/listing/1726025240/punch-me-pillow-fun-home-decor-perfect

[jentlemahae]

As the TTPD release gets closer, Taylor's second fandom have started defrosting their wildly inaccurate takes, of which I've seen plenty the past few days. Takes such as "Taylor's music never deals with anything other than romance", "There is no depth/ no layers to Taylor's songs", "Taylor doesn't read/isn't educated" or "Taylor isn't as good as the poets I respect because she's never experienced depression or any feeling worse than heartbreak". Now, why are these people who know absolutely nothing about blondie giving their opinions as if they know what they're talking about? It's so funny. I dislike plenty of artists, some for very serious reasons (like Kanye) and some for goofier reasons (like a certain British vocal marvel), but do you see me, a person who doesn't review music for a living (or even as a hobby), tuning in for every one of their album releases and writing thinkpieces for weeks before said release? No. Taylor's haters are so obsessed with her, it's actually funny. (Shaking their heads while listening to the new songs to make sure that everyone knows they don't approve of this "soulless junk" being popular.)

The fact is that Taylor's music is some of the most interesting to analyze in the pop genre. It does have layers and motifs and deeper meanings and the only reason some people can't acknowledge that is because they refuse to entertain the idea that she might actually be smart. They have this image of her in their minds (privileged woman who puts out bland and lazy music to milk her fans of their money) and they will not in a million years give her the benefit of the doubt.

i HATE when ppl look down on taylor’s work and artistry because she “only sings about love” when a) it’s not even true cause with a catalogue spanning 18 years, she talks about romantic love and also friendship and loss and depression and mental health issues and self esteem and womanhood, but b) even if all she sang about was romance, why would that be a problem ? i absolutely hate this notion that someone has to have gone through tragedy and insurmountable hardship for their art to be worthy, as if talking about something as nuanced and multifaceted as romantic love is suddenly less than just because most people can relate to it…….

but anw !! yeah i don’t see why is it so hard to just say “hey i don’t like this artist’s music” and moving on ? i promise that u don’t need to write dissertations about how bad it supposedly is to justify it, u can just say u don’t like it and keep it moving ? but also i just cannot take any taylor hate seriously anymore lol like “she’s fake she’s mediocre waa waa” and yet she is the most successful artist on the planet 18 years into her career, and u want me to take u seriously ???

[drewkopp]

Burning Out: A Dramatic Monologue - Part 3: Cooldown

I’d love to get some feedback on this piece and the other two parts that follow, which were written as part of a collab between my local writer’s group and the local theater group. I’d specifically like to know if I captured the narrator’s psychopathy through their voice and if their character arc is clear. Each part has to be under 500 words.

Dear Diary

…Hey.

I’m sorry I left you to gnaw on that little cliffhanger for a few months, but I’ve been too busy to check in with you.

A lot’s changed since we last spoke, but one thing’s stayed the same: I still don’t feel like putting other people’s property to the torch.

Don’t worry; my creative juices haven't gone dry or anything. My art’s just taken a bit of a new form, that’s all.

Molotov’s helping me shear away my artist’s block. You remember Molotov, right? The punk I kidnap- removed from an unsafe situation? Yeah, them

Neither of us ended up frozen because Molotov made magic happen with a bottle of hand sanitizer they swiped from the refugee center’s bathroom. Their technique was still mediocre, but I didn't mind giving them a pointer or two. Last week, they got our campfire going with nothing but a stick, a handful of dry leaves, and a dictionary so soaked that the only words I could read from it were  “Hope,” “Springs,” “Eternal,” and “Marmalade.”

Molotov also came up with the idea of selling fire. Huh. Writing that didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.

We were passing through the skeleton of what I think used to be Saskatoon when we ran into a herd of ex-frat boys trying to turn their three-seater sofa into a cooking fire by using a shattered Budweiser bottle as a magnifying glass. 

My apprentice offered to help them get a blaze going if they shared a bit of the deer they wanted to grill up. Did you know Deer Heart Salad is a thing? I didn’t. Yet another fascinating nugget of Molotov wisdom.

Being a fire merchant scratches my artistic itch better than I thought. If you’d told me that most people don’t know how to start a fire before the apocalypse, I wouldn’t have believed you. It doesn't matter which direction Molotov and I wander; we always find at least one poor smuck who doesn't know how to relive their ancient ancestor’s greatest triumph.

It’s a pretty satisfying dopamine cycle, honesty: Molotov and I meander around until we find some poor soul whose mind has not yet been opened to the ways of pyromancy, then we hook them up if they can match our prices. 

Even when we don’t stumble upon any customers, lighting a campfire and sitting under the stars with Molotov makes me feel like I’ve done something right. I’m almost okay with counting my anti-hypothermia fires as art.

…Almost.

I think I’ve finally realized why I lost my mojo. My work… it’s an act of rebellion. Before, it was a rebellion against a civilization that decided by lottery whether or not people were worth taking care of. Now, it’s a rebellion against the ignorance that civilization allowed to fester.

Being a fire merchant should be enough to keep me busy.

At least until civilization thinks it’s safe to come out of hiding.

[thatmcgwords]

“The wise saying, “You Snooze, You Lose,” has a deeper meaning than what many people think it does. The problem is always deeper than just getting another 15 minutes of sleep. The life you are living might not be the one you want. Therefore, your subconscious sees no point in letting you torture yourself. When you postpone getting up until you have to — meaning you wait until the last possible moment to get out of bed and start your day — what you are actually doing is resisting your life. Why wake up to something meaningless?”

The reason you don’t want to wake up is that you are living someone else’s life. ~ Hal Elrod

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Even if you agree but changing your life right away seems impossible, you can teach your brain that you need to wake up with the first alarm.

Shared from The Miracle Morning on the Headway app

Step 1: Set your intentions before bed

Think of several pleasant things you are planning to do the next day. We usually wake up with the same thought we went to bed with. However, please do not dwell on your plans for too long because you’ll find it harder to fall asleep.

Step 2: Move your alarm far from your bed

This is the best trick you can play on yourself. When your alarm starts ringing far across the room, you will have to get up to turn it off. You will not be likely to return to bed, as your energy already started flowing through your body.

Step 3: Brush your teeth

You need to find one useful activity that does not require mindful concentration. You can brush your teeth, stretch, or start making your bed. This will give you time to wake up. Most importantly, don’t pick up your phone to scroll through social media. It will only make your brain agitated, leaving your body still asleep.

Step 4: Drink a glass of water in its entirety

Water, water, and water again! Drink a glass of water, room temperature. Not in one gulp, of course. Water hydrates you, and you need that because the lack of it in your body causes fatigue and headache. Moreover, it helps your stomach wake up, and that buddy has the potential to have your entire organism up and running.

Step 5: Get dressed in your workout clothes

Clothes we wear project a particular image not only for others but for us as well. When you put on your sweatshirt and sweatpants, grab your running shoes, you have no other way than to go ahead and start your workout. The author suggests that instead of a shower, you can break a sweat.”

“Yet, the question of unwanted life remains valid. Waking up in the morning, you may feel full of regret for unfulfilled potential right in the middle of your mediocre and somewhat miserable life. You cannot live for years, ignoring how you feel. Some of us lack the willpower to face our problems; others wish they could do it but don’t know how to.”

“The First “S” of S.A.V.E.R.S.

S denotes silence. “In the art of silence, the soul finds the path.” Silence is not only the absence of sound. It also stands for peace and tranquility of your mind. How often do you find yourself waking up in the morning wrought-up and angry, nervous and apprehensive, or bitter and devastated? One way or another, we are almost able to hear our thoughts screaming in our heads and wonder whether others can hear us too. Purposeful silence is about both your mind and your body are quiet.”

When nothing irritates you from both inside and out, purposeful silence is one of the most effective ways to reduce stress. ~ Hal Elrod

“Silence will help you increase the awareness of your goals and priorities, as you will finally get the time to listen to yourself.”

“Meditation • Prayer • Reflection • Deep Breathing • Gratitude”

“A is for Affirmations

Affirmations are a bit downplayed in popular culture. However, they are useful in persuading yourself to be the person you want to be. Sometimes our parents don’t tell us the words we need to hear the most. We grow up feeling insecure and vulnerable. Saying “I am strong” to your face over and over again will help you build up the confidence you lack as soon as you start to believe what you are saying. When that happens, you begin to act upon this learned truth, thus making it only more solid.”

“Visualization is a powerful, creative tool. It is also all about the future. Many of us live in the past: regret the choices we didn’t make, continuously pick up an argument with people who hurt us. To visualize, you need your imagination to focus on the future you want to have. Think of the things, people, and events you wish to see in it. This is an excellent place not to be shy and dream big. Anything you see in your mind’s eye is possible.”

Ordinary people believe only in the possible. Extraordinary people visualize not what is possible or probable, but rather what is impossible. And by visualizing the impossible, they begin to see it as possible. ~ Cherie Carter-Scott

“Step 1: Get ready

Choose a place in your home other than your bedroom. If your apartment is small and the bedroom is all you have, make sure you don’t sit on the bed. Its function is to make you fall asleep. That is not what we are looking for. Sit up with your back straight, in a comfortable position. Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and prepare yourself.

Step 2: Visualize what you really want

Imagine something you want badly. If there are several things, choose the most appealing one to start with. Otherwise, your attention will be dissipated. Concentrate on this thing. Try to get to know as much about it as possible: touch, smell, taste it.

Step 3: Visualize what you need to be & what you need to do

If this is an event you are thinking about, try to put yourself in the picture. See yourself doing daily routines and see yourself enjoying this process. This practice will link your desired future gain with the reality of the present or anchor it in the here and now.”

Creative visualization will help you generate positive results in your world by leveraging your imagination's power. ~ Hal Elrod

“E describes Exercise

Morning exercise should be regular in your daily rituals. When you exercise every morning, your energy levels rise significantly and, having more strength; you will feel more confident about yourself. We tend to believe that the less we move, the more energy we save. This doesn't seem right. Using our power to exercise even for just 1 minute will have our blood rush through the body filling the cells with oxygen.

Did you know? Depending on your preferences, you can do some stretching, cardio, or yoga. Very important is that you also enjoy what you do. Luckily, you have a choice.”

“Reading is the practice of self-discipline and a workout for your brain. You should read both fiction and non-fiction books, as both of these kinds convey human experience in a slightly different way. You can learn from other people without needing to live through some unpleasant situations yourself.

The author suggests that you read for 15-30 minutes every day. If you read fast, take 10-15 minutes. All of this time doesn’t have to be in the morning, especially if you combine the practices. Concerning pages, you should wind up on around 5-10 pages. It is important that you do this every day.”

Reading channels wisdom generations before you accumulated; do not ignore it. ~ Hal Elrod

“Reading should always have a purpose other than just reading. Before starting to work on a new book, try to anticipate what you expect to gain from it. It would help if you chose the books you want to read instead of the books you are supposed to read. Life is too short to be reading something you hate.”

“S means Scribing”

“First of them is writing automatically, without thinking into it, whatever comes to your mind. No filters, no restrictions. Don’t stop yourself, let it flow. You don’t have to read what you wrote right away. Try to set a limit on how much scribing you should do. It can be one A4 page of dense text or 15-20 minutes timewise.”

“The second one presupposes that you pluck your thoughts and ideas and try to make sense of them in writing. It shouldn’t be beautiful or grammatically correct. Most important is that you materialize whatever is going on in your head and document your ideas, breakthroughs, and insights. This technique also helps people realize what has been bothering them for a long time but went unnamed.

These are the tips to help you get started:

1. Choose a format — digital or traditional

Some people type faster than they write. However, handwriting connects us to what we write, whereas typing on the computer is always a mediated, indirect experience.

2. Get a journal

If you are still reading this summary, your intentions are pretty serious. So, choose a journal that will be good at least for a year, or the rest of your life, as Elrod jokes. Make sure you have a place to keep it comfortably, so that people you live with don’t have direct access to it. The point of the journal is that it gives you space to be absolutely honest and vulnerable. Therefore, you need to feel safe in this space.”

Writing in a journal each day, with a structured, strategic process (more on that in a minute) allows you to direct your focus to what you did accomplish, what you’re grateful for, and what you’re committed to doing better tomorrow. ~ Hal Elrod

“3. Decide what to write

There are many things you can journal about, and innumerable types of journals — gratitude journals, workout journals, dream journals, food journals, etc. You can write about your goals, dreams, commitments, lessons learned, plans, family, and anything else you feel you need to focus on in your life.”

“It is very humane to make excuses when we don’t feel like doing something. Yet, sometimes we really don’t have time, even these 15 minutes, for self-development and growth. Even in such cases, we don’t skip the morning routine. Regularity is vital here. Instead of 15, you take just 6 minutes to improve your life. This is what you can do:

Minute One

You need to see yourself waking up, happy and relaxed. You might want to think about the things you are grateful for. Perhaps you can say a prayer and ask for guidance through the day. You can take this minute to start a meditation.”

“Minute Two

Resort to your affirmations. Read them all aloud, concentrating on the ones that resonate with you the most at this point. This express reading will raise your internal motivation. Remember, you have taught yourself to be smart, successful, attractive, and so on. Now you need to act on it.

Minute Three

Look at your visualization board or close your eyes and use your imagination. Think about the day you already started living. Imagine it going well and enjoyable. Try to sense and feel as many things as possible. The closer your visualization to reality is, the smoother your day will go.

Minute Four

Write down the things you’re grateful for or the something you want to complete by the end of that day. You set a goal and know precisely to work towards achieving it.

Minute Five

During this minute, read a passage or two from a self-help book. Try to think about how it relates to the new day of your life or how you can use what you learned there that day.

Minute Six

Finally, stand up and exercise for 60 seconds. You can run or jump around the room. Train your abs or triceps. You need to get your heart sound and going, generating energy, and increasing your ability to be present and focused.”

There is no limit to how your Miracle Morning can be personalized to fit your lifestyle and help you achieve your most significant goals, faster than ever before. ~ Hal Elrod

“Only 6 minutes may seem not enough to transform your life. Nevertheless, they are a much more powerful workout than you can imagine. Not only do you manage to do a little of each activity, but you also develop your physical, mental, spiritual aspects of life. Remember to enjoy what you do and be grateful for the ability to be doing it.”

“Morning is the most important part of the day because that is when we get the chance to start anew. Fresh from the night sleep, we still have both our conscious and subconscious layers of psyche working actively. Thus, things that we fear, loathe, or feel itchy about might become more apparent to us, meaning that we will find the tools to transform or eliminate them.

Many of us are reluctant to get up right after the alarm clock rang because we don’t like the way our lives turn out to be. No wonder that we don’t rush into the hell we try to avoid in the comfort of our beds.”

“Try doing these rituals every morning for one month, and you will see your life change for the better. Your self-awareness and self-confidence will grow because you are capable of controlling and guiding yourself through life. You now understand that responsibility is all yours, and your life is your creation.”

“Try this

The 5-Step Snooze-Proof Wake Up Strategy:

1. Set Your Intentions the Night Before.

2. Keep Your Alarm Clock Across the Room. Remember: movement creates energy!

3. Brush Your Teeth. Use Listerine® for extra oomph!

4. Drink a Full Glass of Water. Hydrate yourself ASAP.

5. Dress in Your Workout Clothes. Earn your A.M. shower!”

My highlight from The Miracle Morning on the Headway app. Start making yours 👇

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My highlight from The Miracle Morning on the Headway app. Start making yours 👇

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My highlight from The Miracle Morning on the Headway app. Start making yours 👇

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[sophiasinclairxo]

There were few things Sophia could just let go and accept to be just okay, art was definitely not one of them. She listened to how little Ryder cared about wanting more for this place. It wasn’t enough for her to blindly go along with whatever system he had been accustomed to. "And that's precisely why I'm here. Just because we're a small town doesn't mean our gallery shouldn’t be the one people travel across countries for. Or do you just thrive in mediocrity?” She intentionally wanted to throw a dig at him. “If it hasn’t hit you by now I don’t do anything just fine. That is not good enough for me,” Her voice carried a mix of fiery determination and unwavering belief as she defended her passion. "This gallery is a haven where artists can bare their souls and share their stories with the world, but maybe you just don't want to understand that.”

The air crackled with tension as their eyes locked in an intense gaze. Words hung heavy in the space between them, unspoken yet palpable. “Okay, Ryder, I can agree to that,” Sophia felt that at least they could share some sort of respect between each other after getting off to such a tumultuous start. “So you’re an artist too?” She felt something change innately inside her, maybe realizing they had more in common than she had thought. Her mind drifted somewhere far away to the idea of them painting together, working together, and taking unprofessional breaks together. She shook that thought out of her head, but not before letting it stay a while, then resorting to snarky comments again, “What, do you tape a banana to the wall and call it art?” She laughed but it was cut short by the way he leaned closer to her, making her take a second to gather herself “Of course I don’t have a problem working with you at all,” there was something intense in the way he stared her down, not breaking for a moment, that made her breath hitch in her throat, a warmth spreading below her as she thought about the possibility of what this intensity between them had the potential to lead to, “once you’re aware that you still work for me,” she challenged him further, “So you think I'm pretty is what I'm hearing,”  She took a step closer, her voice a whisper that danced with vulnerability, so close that if either of them moved an inch more they’d be having an entirely different kind of conversation, one evolving anything but words, “you’d be so lucky to be putty in my hands Ryder,” she stopped her mind from wandering as he moved across the floor, “So, what have I been missing, since you apparently know everything?”

The way that she worded it -- save this place -- made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Ryder in no way ran the gallery, he knew his place, but he also knew the importance of the work that he did, and was aware of how hard it would be for it to continuing running should he just dip out, quit, find something else to do with his time. But to save the gallery from whatever was going on there? "It doesn't need saving," he corrected, righting his posture a little bit, chin lifting defiantly. "I've been to plenty of art galleries, and for one in such a small town, we're doing just fine. If you want to make it more to your taste," the word was bit out with a little bit of venom, "that's fine, but don't act like you're waltzing in here, saving this place from the brink of collapse, either. We were doing just fine before you sashayed in here… and we'd be doing just fine if you turned around and sashayed right back out." He stood by that, regardless of what kind of courtesy she thought she was passing on, what favors she was doing. A joke, he thought, shaking his head. She'd learn, though. If she gave the place even a moment of thought, to see what it was, she would see that it was good.

As she stepped closer to him, he felt something filter through him -- warmth, whether from annoyance or her proxmitiy. Maybe a combination of both. And maybe he liked the way that she had to look up to look into his eyes, meeting her gaze head on and refusing to back down. "Then all that I ask is that I get Ryder in return, Sophia," he let the name roll off his tongue, velvety smooth, the kind of tone that he saved for dark nights in bars in Tokyo, or a quiet balcony in Italy, something entirely unprofessional on his mind. But when was it not? It was easier to think about art as he tilted his head to the side when she asked. "Yes." He could have filled her in, told her about his social media following, the degree tucked into the dresser drawer at home, the showing in Boston that had gone better than he had expected… but instead, he tapped the heel of his foot against the counter's front, shrugging one shoulder, "since the day I decided crayon looked better on the walls than it does on paper." And he hadn't looked back since, as much as he was sure that his parents would have wished he had. Snorting at what she said about learning from her -- he absolutely refused to acknowledge that idea -- he dropped his weight down from the counter, directly in front of her, close enough that his body was nearly brushing against hers, leveling his gaze to not leave her eyes. "I work for you now," he kept his voice low, as though someone in the room might overhear, even if they were alone. God, was he painfully aware of the fact that they were alone. "Show me the same amount of respect that your parents did and work with me rather than expecting me to be putty in your hands the way everyone is who you bat those pretty little eyes at," he leaned in a little closer, voice very nearly a whisper, "and this might actually be fun," but then he was striding past her towards the door, turning off the lighted sign and sliding the bolt into place, making his way towards the center of the room, instead, already beginning to roll his sleeves up his arms.

[adobe-outdesign]

Ranking + Mini-reviews of All the DHMIS TV Episodes

Two important things to note before we start:

DHMIS is an amazing series, and as such there are no episodes that I’d say are bad, or even mediocre. This isn’t an S to F-tier ranking, this is an S to B-tier ranking.

Because all episodes are great in their own right, everyone’s going to have their own opinions on which ones are the best. These are just my personal picks.

With that said, going from worst to best:

Episode 3: Family

Starting us off is Family. While I still like this episode a lot, I do have to put it at the bottom of the list for a few reasons.

First, most of the episode is spent in Lily and Todney’s house, which means there’s not as many of the beautiful sets that the rest of the series provides. This episode also didn’t have many stylistic shifts—the only one being a brief moment of Deep Dream AI rendering. Most people may not mind this, but as someone who’s always loved the artistic elements of DHMIS, this was a bit underwhelming.

Secondly, I found this episode to be a bit messy structurally. For example, Bird gets kicked out first, so he has a long sequence talking about how he doesn’t want to be in a family... that goes absolutely nowhere. Likewise, Red’s arc felt like it had a lot of build-up but little payoff, while Yellow has the least motivation yet the biggest payoff (this may be because early concept art shows Red being the last one standing; Yellow was a good swap thematically, but it feels like they needed to swap the two’s motivations as well).

And finally, while the “found family is more important than biological family” moral is always lovely to hear, it is mostly outright stated; I feel like the best episodes simply allow the viewer to infer the moral for themselves (if they have one). Furthermore, the episode doesn’t offer much commentary on families beyond this basic idea.

With that said, this episode has a lot of great moments in it, including the entire climax with Roy and the funniest moment in the entire show at the end. But comparing it to all the other episodes, this is the one I personally got the least out of.

Episode 4: Friendship

While enjoyable, this episode has some issues in the message department. The whole “your friends don’t hate you, it’s just the worm in your brain talking” thing is great moral, and speaks to everything from depression to intrusive thoughts.

However, the execution is a bit botched. Red and Bird’s jackassery has been cranked up to 10 in this episode, to the point where they feel slightly OOC (such as swearing at Yellow, which is the only time they’ve done so). Thus, when Yellow assumes his friends hate him, it’s less of a “worm in your brain” kind of thing and more of a... logical assumption. The whole thing’s a bit confused and many will walk away with a slightly sour taste in their mouths despite the hilarious ending scene. Other episodes do a much better job of establishing the trio’s love-hate relationship.

The analogy also falls apart because Yellow makes this assumption on his own; Warren has little to do with anything, and Yellow becomes upset long before he enters his brain. It would’ve made more sense if Warren went into his brain to retrieve the password, only to realize that Yellow’s brain is great for ego-stroking. Thus, he convinces Yellow that Red and Duck hate him so he can stay there or something like that.

Another thing is that while most of the TV episodes feel like their own thing, this episode felt like a less effective version of DHMIS 3 (Love) from the original shorts. Both involve Red and Duck upsetting Yellow, who runs away (either psychically or metaphorically) and encounters an insect who teaches him about some interpersonal relationship before his friends show up and apologize and there’s a plot twist that makes you question the reality of the situation. But in 3, the situation that upsets Yellow is far more minor, the apology is more heartfelt, the moral is stronger and much more nuanced, etc.

However, this episode does have a lot of enjoyable gems in and of itself. Warren perfectly captures being a bad friend and is the worst thing Ever, Colin’s appearance was fun as were the brain friends sequences, and I liked the moral they were going for as well as the slightly surreal moment at the “the worm in your brain has a worm in its brain” part (to the point that I kind of wish they leaned into that more for the ending instead of the chainsaw fight). It’s a good time; it’s just up against stiff competition.

Episode 2: Death

This episode was great overall, and it has a lot of good stuff going for it. I love the commentary on how grief and loss is handled by society and the problems it can cause, the coffin’s probably my favorite teacher out of the bunch, and the comedy was fast-paced and effective.

So why isn’t it ranked higher? It’s mostly because the horror/comedy balance feels off. In most episodes, you get a good blend of both; but in this episode, you mostly get comedy and nothing else. There are one or two eerie moments—I liked the scene with Yellow and Red saying it was just them now “until the other guy comes back” with a close-up on Duck’s empty chair, as well as the scene with the mourners—but they don’t hit as hard as they could.

I think the big problem are the scenes with Duck in the coffin. Red and Yellow’s A-plot is where the commentary is, and where the hardest-hitting moments of this episode come in. However, while doing nothing after you die could be existentially terrifying, ala the ending to the original DHMIS 2, it ends up just being funny shenanigans here. And I like funny shenanigans; but I feel like the humor kind of distracts from the deeper, subtle moments of the A-plot, which shouldn’t be the case.

For example, I feel like Yellow digging up Duck would be a lot more impactful if the coffin left earlier, and Duck was starting to rot more. This would add more a lot more tension to the climax, as there’d be something at stake on Duck’s side rather than solely Yellow’s. Likewise, seeing Yellow try to drag around a rotting corpse and convince himself its still alive would’ve been really haunting.

also I have to subtract a point for the piss scene

Like I said at the beginning though, this is still a super fun episode with a lot going for it. It’s just that 20% too much comedy that prevents it from ranking even higher.

Episode 1: Jobs

Episode 1 is the very first episode to kick off the new show, and I’d say that it was a good pick—it’s the one that’s arguably the closest to the original series in terms of plot (a teacher shows up, sings a song that (technically) lasts the entire episode, and the trio ends up traumatized). 

On top of being similar to the shorts, it also happens to just be a strong episode in general. The humor is great as always, and there are a fair amount of horror elements in there.

My favorite part of the episode is definitely the commentary on capitalism. Being promised a bunch of good jobs before being saddled with a terrible one, the HR people that are more concerned with making people useful to the company than helping them, the way the laziest people get the highest positions, the “blink and 40 years have passed” thing, the meager pay at the end (which is later referenced in episode 2)... it’s all really great stuff, and is delivered subtly in a way that really sticks with you.

My only real complaint is that the bathroom scene was mostly pointless (side note: has anyone else noticed that Yellow address the audience in the first two episodes and then never again?), and the beginning is a bit slow. Outside from that, it’s pretty perfect.

Episode 6: Electricity

DHMIS 6 was my second favorite out of the original shorts, so it shouldn’t be surprising that the last episode gets the same spot here. This episode is pretty amazing—not only do we get introduced to Lesley, but there’s an overwhelming sense of dread throughout the episode that leads to some truly terrifying scenes. As an added bonus, we get some wonderful character development for Yellow that hits especially hard if you happen to be neurodivergent.

The only reason I rank this as the second best episode instead of the first is that it doesn’t feel like as satisfying of a conclusion as DHMIS 6. Lelsey’s reveal doesn’t hit as hard as Roy’s because we don’t know who she is or what her motivations are, and we only get a vague idea of what’s going on by the end of the episode. One could argue this is the point—they do shred the book, after all—but it makes it feel much less satisfying as a conclusion.

And this is more of a minor thing, but it’s also strange that after Red’s mental breakdown in the last episode, he’s right back to normal in this one. It’s possible this was intentionally reflecting the “reset” nature of the universe in this series, but it really undermines the horror of 5 a bit and feels like a missed opportunity for character development. If they wanted to go the reset route, I feel like it could’ve been driven home harder than it was, as it feels more like a continuity error as-is.

With that said however, this is still an incredibly strong episode with some of the series most poignant and haunting moments. It’s only slightly beaten out by...

Episode 5: Transport

While the entire series is a masterpiece, this episode in particular Is A Masterpiece. There is scientifically nothing wrong with it. Everything here just works.

First, I love the plot direction. Instead of the teacher showing up and sticking around like we’re used to, they instead just keel over and die immediately, and the trio hijack their corpse to kickstart the plot. It’s refreshing, and adds a sense of unpredictability to the plot.

And on top of that, despite being one of the only times that events take place primarily outdoors, Transport has the greatest sense of dread and claustrophobia out of all the episodes. Watching Red slowly reach his breaking point and become more and more frantic until it ends with the reveal that there is nothing out there is haunting, especially with the little Lesley tease at the end.

It also throws some additional bits of horror in there—Yellow Guy’s dream abruptly ending with him getting hit by a car hits particularly strong, being viscerally realistic. However, it also has some incredibly funny moments (read: the entire sequence with Time Child). The trio’s chemistry is strong in this one, the puppetry with the car is great as are the two stylistic shifts, and the songs are good. You can’t go wrong with any of this series, but if I have to pick a favorite, this one’s the clear winner.

[chemicalpink]

Young Gods ❈ KNJ, JJK

❈ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader x Jungkook

❈ Genre: smut, f2l kinda, but also s2l, fantasy!au, fluff if you squint, gods!au, wizard/witch!au

➛ Part of the Namkook Moonrise Masquerade hosted by @jamaisjoons

❈ Rating: 18+

❈ Wordcount: 4.2k

❈ Warnings: it is jungkook centric, it does have a somewhat heavy plot, double penetrative sex, magical sex, teasing, slightest corruption kink.

❈ Summary: Legend has it that if you were to walk all the way up to Hallasan, and if the land is welcoming enough, you should be able to see the most beautiful lake where it is rumoured to home the most powerful being the world has ever had the pleasure to meet, so when young warlock Jungkook starts having trouble with his magic, who could blame him for travelling all the way there in hopes of finding answers only to be met with the hottest man he’s ever seen. and really,  who could blame him for fostering the biggest crush on him without saying a word for ages? that is, until y/n, a long lost friend of Namjoon shows up. so really, who is he to blame if he lets the two greatest beings in existence use him for their pleasure?

❈A/N: SHE'S HERE. GOD THIS TOOK A WHILE. Please enjoy! ALSO, banner by @jamaisjoons, I do believe the only thing that keep me writing this was the banner lol. Do tell your thoughts on this bad baby, I was heading towards a larger fic but I didn't have time yet magical au is most definitely there for future fics.

The first time Jungkook realised just how powerful he was, he was fifteen years old, although his mother can recall him being around four and being able to master a potion that most common-born non-royal witches could only hope to get mediocre at once trained at their young twenties. Of course, his magic had soon become taboo around the village, having to hide himself behind years of his father’s training, his lineage a bit closer to royalty, not quite, but just enough for his son’s magic to pass as his own. If his customers notice how better his spell jars or potions get once Jungkook turns eighteen, they sure don’t comment on it. Not that they would be able to tell that the family was hiding a master of the magical arts that could rival the country’s most powerful witch in the blink of an eye. Those were just rumours going around, as far as the Jeon’s were concerned.

“Son, I believe it is about time you get some proper practice on your magic” his father mentioned bypassing one Sunday night as they both locked up the store. He turned to hi, somewhat confused.

“Look if this is about Seojun noona’s elixir being more powerful than it usually is I swear it was a rightful mixture, my trial was right beside her actual one and she entered the shop sooner and-”

His dad shakes a hand dismissively at him, rounding the counter into the small storage room, coming back in sight with a leather-bound book in between his hands, calloused fingers roaming the antique-looking pages “I am not quite sure how much truth an old man like your grandfather could hold, but it wouldn’t hurt to try” he turned the yellowing book towards him, fast and almost undescribable scribbles decorating the paper as he squinted down at it, his father handling the energy in it to make the content quite literally come to life, a storytelling spell all too familiar to him from his young age.

“Dad, you know I absolutely love bedtime stories, but I’d say I’m quite a bit too old now for-” before he can even think about finishing the sentence, a mountain comes into view, alive straight from the book’s pages, standing tall and proud dressed in green, almost touching the sky, a magical aura surrounding it, one that he could even feel just by looking at it “What’s that?”

“The old man used to tell me stories about an ancient being, the most powerful of them all, living on top of Hallasan” the pages turn by themselves, the image changing to a faceless man, standing almost as tall and proud as the mountain itself, performing all types of magic, some of them Jungkook himself hadn’t even heard of “Legend says he was outcasted by royalty in fear of revolution, wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for he is a child of Earth herself”

“I-I don’t think I’m following”

His father sighs loudly before his magic shuts the book closed, all magic gone on a whim “Jungkook, whatever this man was, if my father was right and he really did exist, you might be like him”

“But-but I was born of both you and mum” he couldn’t quite yet fathom the extension of his own magic, much less think about the probability of being more powerful than any other being that had walked the Earth in millennia. Even if the man was real, would he even be alive still? If he was as powerful as he was presumed to be, would he even take Jungkook under his wing? What if he wasn’t as lucky as the man from the book and word got out and his life was endangered?

“Jungkook just think about it, you might be a child of the Earth”

“What if I don’t want to be” he couldn’t quite face his father, feeling his own heartbreak as the older man deflated. Jungkook knew that perhaps his dad had entertained the idea of his only son being a creature out of a legendary book, could feel how proud it would make him, for Jungkook to be a hero, make history with the power he presumably held within, yet he couldn’t help but feel like a small child again, afraid at the uncertainty that the future could hold. “I- I’m good with just running the shop and helping you and mother out with stuff”

His father sighed before placing a gentle hand on his shoulders, a small act that made him feel even more like a child, one getting subtly scolded by his parents as they prepare him for his inevitable future. “Jungkook-ah, your mother and I- all we really want for you is to live your own life”

His ears perk up, gaze facing forward as he catches his mother standing with her arms crossed over her body, the softest motherly look on her face “And if that means for my baby to go find himself at some faraway place, then so be it” she comes to join his father by his side, both of them bracing each other as the thought of their child growing up simmers down on them. “We just want you to grow up to your full potential Kookie”

.-.-

It had taken quite some convincing for him to completely make up his mind, the negging looks from his father as he helped around the shop, the longing yet scolding gaze his mother held over dinner until he found himself preparing a small bag for the long trip– almost burning inside his mind the map contained in his grandfather’s grimoire from the many times he had read over what he once thought to be a legend out of a children’s storybook.

The trip itself wasn’t as difficult as it was troublesome, having to hike up the highest mountain in the land, the difficult part–if the Jeon’s memories were anything to go by– was having the Hallassan land spirit to like you enough to show itself, even a step further to have the legendary witch to show his home.

For quite some time Jungkook entertained the idea of the immense possibilities on how the wizard could look, every possible image popping up in his head some variation of a wrinkly old man hunched over himself, staff in hand and he couldn’t help but laugh soundly at it, picturing himself getting nagged at by such a figure, perhaps he would end up looking like one of those old scholars that came to his village from time to time. But how wrong was he.

It took him three days, two cold sleepless nights in the woods and running in circles for at least two hours in the nothingness that was the top of the mountain for the valley to show up right where he had started to venture– he could almost hear the forest spirits snickering at him. He really tried to be angry at it, almost went back down just out of spite, yet the clearing before him had him doing a double-take, the space was bright and clear, none of the trees from before on sight, the small dipping in the middle of it leading to a sort of entrance– this was what he came for.

Jungkook had been raised better than what he found himself doing– walking into a stranger’s house uninvited. Was it really uninvited if after knocking for a few minutes the door opened on its own?

He walks inside, small steps, unsure of himself, his past resolve crumbling down completely as he walks further in where he listens to a hushed voice coming from his left, a mop of silvery hair turned away from him, green warm clothes cradling the figure, Jungkook entertains the idea of an old man still, yet not so much hunched over himself if the deep hushed voice and the hair colour was anything to go by. “...Now where did I last see-”

"Hello-"

"Oh! great timing! the pay is where it always is" broad shoulders are still facing him as the man moved around, a couple of won bills on the counter where he had waved his hand dismissively, not even bothering to turn around, for a legendary creature perhaps leaving his home door open was a recurrent thing, what with the whole clearing hidden from the public eye and all.

"Oh I'm not-" he had tried to make himself knows as definitely not the person he was expecting yet the man kept mumbling to himself, apparently in deep thought at whatever it was

""—So then if we are able to move this around we should -" he had started moving around the room, still not facing Jungkook directly, just pointing to places around the spacious room as his free hand busied itself with picking books from the humongous shelf against the wall

"I'm- uh" his hands couldn’t be still, grasping at the bag over his shoulder, knuckles almost white as he clears his throat "I'm not-"

"Did you forget where-" the man turns around and Jungkook feels whatever little poise he had gained leave him in the spot, right in front of him is the most legendary creature in existence, recorded alive for millennia, a god in more ways than one, no old man in sight but the prettiest human he had laid eyes on, fierce sight set on him awkwardly hanging at the entrance as the man keeps blinking at him "uh"

He bows down almost instinctively, 90 degrees, hair falling onto his eyes as he does so "Mister sir- uh keeper of Hallasan"

"You aren't Soobin"

"Uh.. no I'm not"

The man doesn’t even flinch at the information of a stranger setting a foot inside his house, deep voice calm as ever as he asks "How did you even get in?"

"Uh the door was open" he points to the door in a futile attempt for it to not make it seem like he was the weirdo picking locks or something at a magical creature’s home

"No it wasn't" he moves to the door in the most graciously way he has ever seen someone do it, almost gliding across the floor, eyes never leave him except for the brief second where his hand tries the doorknob "huh it was. Weird"

It took the man less than a minute after his initial shock to turn to Jungkook and invite him in, a pair of teacups resting against the table as they seated parallel to each other, him crossing his legs in a nonchalant manner as Jungkook couldn’t stop fidgeting in his seat– he certainly never thought he could come this far.

“So what can I do for you, Jeon Jungkook?” if he absolutely preened at the way that his name sounded in the stranger’s mouth, that was certainly something only for him to know.

The words died right on his tongue. There were certainly a lot of things the beautiful man seating across from him could do, none of them necessarily involving what he had initially come for, yet as the words take meaning inside his mind, he seems to short circuit yet again “I uh- you know- you know my name?”

He smiles a big smile, eyes crinkling into crescents, dimples showing and a heat simmering inside Jungkook’s belly “I know a lot of things, Jungkook” he stares off into space “Social skills are rusty, but they come back after getting a good look at you” Jungkook’s eyes must widen at the implication of his words. Could he read minds? Could he take a look into souls? “Just general stuff about you, don’t worry about it”

The man could definitely read minds.

Blink if you’re hearing this. The man blinks and Jungkook feels like fleeing. Wait. Everyone blinks, stupid. Perhaps some other time.

He somehow finds his voice, remembering the lingering question, the sole reason for him to be there “Mister Hallasan keeper, sir”

“Namjoon is fine”

“Mister Namjoon-ssi”

“Namjoon hyung”

Jungkook is sure this time his brain shortcircuits for real, for this complete stranger. Namjoon he corrects himself, to give him permission to call him so affectionately after only a few minutes of knowing him. After technically breaking- not breaking into his home.

Smile if you’re reading my mind. Namjoon smiles, something doesn’t sit right with him, he could very well be reading his mind, or simply smiling out of politeness at the extended silence Jungkook had caused, again. I’m onto you Mister Hallasan Keeper. Namjoon just smiles more fondly at him.

Jungkook goes on explaining his situation, from his rapid magic learning to being unable to wield his magic, to his father even suggesting that he could have been born from the Earth herself, just like Namjoon did all those millennia ago. The blond man restricts himself to listen to Jungkook speak, gaining a serious pose when he drops the reason for his visit, asking him for help. Jungkook’s almost sure he will deny it as he goes on to explain how his last magical apprentice had been there almost sixty years ago, going on about how he is pretty much a loner, no reason more than a brief excuse of being an outcast for practice differences with the village where Jungkook comes from, giving it a few seconds of thought before he accepts to have Jungkook under his wing, going as far as to give him a spare bedroom to sleep in along with the longest set of rules he had ever heard of.

Months with Namjoon look something more or less like this: waking up at 6 am sharp– something Jungkook had never done in his life, the first few times he had woken up later than that, it was almost impossible to know where his teacher had gone to. Have a rundown on the day’s activities and breakfast until 7. Jungkook was in charge of gardening on the 30-minute window of Namjoon harvesting for the spells he was due to make for the day. An hour of light reading– he knew better than to comment on how a thousand pages book was most definitely not light reading, but he did it anyway. He would then shadow Namjoon on whatever mystical task he had to do for the day before finishing up with him running basic high-level training with Namjoon’s guidance in the clearing– Namjoon had said that the Hallasan spirit would keep him safe and sound if he were to screw up, although so far all the spirit and her friends in the forest had done was laugh at his mistakes.

Five months in it, the whole routine came as second nature, he couldn’t even picture a day without Namjoon on it, not that there was anyone else that could pick up on the energy shift within it, Jungkook had learnt a lot from his teacher, not only in the magic department but about him as a person, couldn’t hide the lingering eyes, the curious touches of skin, every bit of information about Namjoon expanding that fondness feeling inside his heart, Namjoon was a man of habit, a powerful one at that, yet all those millennia living couldn’t hide the fact that Jungkook could see right through him, a lonely soul, as powerful as none other, yet so inherently say. Not even the whole power in the universe could keep him away from his own greatest danger: himself.

If you can read minds, kiss me. The kiss never came so perhaps Namjoon could never even read minds in the first place.

Now here’s the thing, Jungkook might be a mess when it comes to magic, but not so much at hiding his feelings, at least the best he could, Namjoon was as intelligent as men come and he had yet to notice. Namjoon’s friend that just happens to show up on a particularly lazy day– his teacher had said his magic tends to run out from time to time and would rather rest it; perhaps not so much.

Jeon Jungkook is a weak man. A weak man for beautiful things, like Namjoon, or you. Who just happened to walk inside Namjoon’s home like you owned the place– could he count it as his home too yet?

He could feel his heart wanting to leap out of him as soon as you introduced yourself, and perhaps he was imagining the way your eyes grazed over his figure before going to tease Namjoon, not that he stopped having heart eyes for the man when you walked in, he had enough heart eyes for the both of you, even if he had to keep them to himself. You were easier to warm up to than Namjoon if it was anything to go by, smoothly falling into conversation after you three had sat down for tea, walking up to Namjoon’s massive library, picking out books from their shelves as you asked him about his upbringings.

“The Jeon family? Oh, dearest, your grandfather was as good as wizards come” his brain cuts short as soon as the words leave your mouth, just how exactly could you have known the old man? The old wizard was presumably thrown out of the royal house for being unfit for ruling over the land. You playfully push your elbow against Namjoon “And I say this while knowing Joonie”

The blond man groans at your teasing.

“You-you knew my grandpa?”

“Yeh, such a shame he decided to be a mortal” Your initial interest seems to diminish as you turn to face the books yet again, a particular red cover catching your attention.

“What”

Jungkook faintly hears Namjoon standing up from his chair to try and get in between his conversation with you, although all he hears seems to come as if the voices were kept under cotton inside his ears “Y/N you’re overwhelming the kid”

For such a calm and collected posture, he had maintained not only while learning with Namjoon but back at home too, hearing such a word coming out of him really tips the glass “I’m not a kid! Why is everyone always treating me like a child!” surely it did seem rather childish to have an outburst like that, yet his mind couldn’t help but reel in all those other times in his stay where Namjoon had dismissed him from helping, saying it was a rather complicated spell you should wait this one out Jungkook. Or something along the lines of when you get stronger. It did seem the type of things one would say to their petulant child.

“Jungkook waits” Namjoon groans as he retreats to his assigned room, you can’t help the softness inside you at the way that strong independent loner Namjoon reacts to his apprentice being pissed off, certainly a first.

“You pissed off the kid” your remark isn’t that much well digested as Namjoon throws a dagger-like glare your way, groaning as he throws his head back against the couch

“Why am I parenting again?”

You shrug your shoulders as you offer him a tight lip smile, you had heard a lot about Jungkook even before you had walked inside the wizard’s home, like a reader of a slow-burning love story, you knew that ‘parenting’ was most definitely not the dynamic in his relationship with the younger, not with the way Namjoon had described the little mannerisms of his apprentice, or the way that he described his figure as the strongest back I’ve ever seen with such a tiny waist when he sent you a letter asking you to visit him.

The thing with the dynamic you had with Namjoon had been one going on for hundreds of years, feeding off of the magic that only such powerful creatures like you and him could conjure, effective yet dependent as when either of you two was in dire need of a boost, you would have to pay him a visit to work your magic. Jungkook hadn’t appeared after his little outburst, probably hidden in his room, taking only a few minutes of Namjoon glancing expectantly at the place where the younger had disappeared before you dragged him towards his room in an all too practised manner.

The whole environment was always on the calm side whenever you two get to it, something along the lines of strictly business, yet an undeniable connection between the two. Namjoon had you against his door, a dimly lit lamp on his desk, strong hands holding you in place at your waist as he leaned down to connect both of your mouths, eyes fluttering shut as he did so. Your hands found themselves tangled in his blond tousled hair in no time as he deepened the kiss, moving the both of you towards the bed as magic started glowing dimly within you two, connecting and feeding off of the spark of the situation, magic so profound and delicate that only immortal beings could hope to master. Namjoon placed himself against his elbows as you straddled his hips, your figure teasingly humping his growing bulge inside his pants as his breath started to become ragged, his own magic reaching forward to yours, just the way his lips chased yours. Yet there was only so much ominous Namjoon could handle. His hands were quick to undress both of you in between hot caresses and messy kisses as both of your bodies seem to move on their own accord, the magic itself doing the most out of the tantric experience, moans slowly but surely filling up the room as Namjoon positioned the tip of his hard cock on your entrance, teasing your folds for a few seconds before you settled on top of him in a familiar manner, sinking down on him as he throws his head back, letting out a groan. You are almost sure Jungkook could hear you both, yet your mind so clouded you wouldn’t have given it a second thought with Namjoon’s cock filling you up so nicely as you moved up and down on his length, that is until out of the corner of your eye you catch the casted shadow outside the dimly lit room.

"Your puppy is outside," You say as you stop moving on him, not quite removing yourself from the situation, yet you feel the magic in the room flickering faintly as if going dormant.

"What" Namjoon’s eyes are surprised as he lets reality sink in, his magic safely sated from the small act

"The kid that has an obvious crush on both you and me?” you state matter of factly as Namjoon’s jaw goes slack “He's watching us from behind the door"

As if on cue, there’s a rustling behind the door, feet rapidly resounding against the floor "No I'm not!"

Namjoon sighs loudly "JK just come in, I know this might seem.." the door opens and you could swear Jungkook’s eyes are about to leave his skull at the image he’s present with "weird"

"incredibly hot," they say at the same time, rendering both of them speechless

"huh kid's horny" you start removing yourself from Namjoon’s cock as your magic starts tingling, now reaching out for the younger "i like it"

"Y/N please"

You gesture by raising your hands as if surrendering, yet you know just how the night had taken a turn, willing to satiate your magic’s needs “He doesn’t like your PG training, let me handle this”

Jungkook is still sporting his Bambi eyes as he feels himself pulled into the room, closing the door softly behind him as he can only stare at you as you make your way towards him, lips ghosting over his “So tell me Jungkookie” your hand trails down to bring him closer to your naked body, taking his hand in yours and guiding it to your ass “Just how much are you willing to render of yourself for me and Joon?”

“All of me”

Jeon Jungkook might as well had been an erotic wizard like yourself if by the way he manhandles you and surrenders you to Namjoon like a loyal apprentice would to his master was anything to go by. Namjoon’s stare alone has the young man pliant as he caresses tan skin under his fingers, achingly curious as the youngest takes turns to kiss the eldest and yourself, Namjoon’s fingers playing with his nipples, your own hands working his length to life after your magic had completely undressed him, feeling both your and Namjoon’s magic reaching for Jungkook’s in a way you didn’t know was possible. A few kisses and lingering touches in, minds clouded with lust, kissing noises and moans taking over the space, Jungkook takes no time in positioning you on top of him, back to his chest as his length stretches you deliciously, long fingers playing with your clit as his own legs separate your thighs as if offering you up to his master, Namjoon looking like a man starved as he positions himself against Jungkook’s cock, his tip meeting no resistance as he glides in and nestles next to Jungkook, stretching you like no other time you could fathom, groans and ragged breaths of the men under and above you working you to your own climax, babbled words coming out of the youngest’s lips along with a promise of becoming yet another young god under your spell.

[beautifulboysbeingbusy]

19 Days Chapter 369 Recap

Ok here it is. Better late than never. Sorry for my mediocre English. No native speaker here. 

Sooo this chapter was epic and I’m sure it will lead to some huge development for Tianshan! I’ve read it like 20 times already and I’m always discovering new little things. Every panel is important and has a meaning. Well since I have all these thoughts in my mind why not share them with all of you. So let's go. (Starting with trivia but getting to the good stuff later)

Ok I know its petty but… (whyever is this bothering me?!?) 

Everyone who has been near such a huge fire before knows this…but you can’t stand that near to a fire (especially if a fire accelerant was used). It’s hot as hell believe me. And really nobody else noticed a fire?! No fire department on duty tonight? It probably was burning for quit a while. Also…

Please please PLEASE Mo get a medical check up! Biting someone is dangerous. You can get a lot of bad shit from something like that. Who knows what diseases SL has.

I think the reason Mo is so hellbent on recovering his school bag from the beginning is the earrings. Not his school books or his bag. Not his phone. No. The earrings HT gifted him. The earrings Mo demanded from TH. That’s the reason we as the readers where shown that the earrings were in his bag. But that also means Mo consciously carried them around. He was aware. Facing the possibility of losing all his possessions the only thing he wants to save are these earrings and it's the only thing he really does save in the end. I’d also like to point out that SL apparently doesn’t get that at all. Not so much alike now, are you?

Mo is furious. I love how he at long last stands up for himself. Don’t get me wrong. Violence is not the right way in reality. It's not cool. Violent means will never be justified by anything. But this is fiction. And Mo needed to liberate himself from SL, he needed to stand up for himself, to not obey and bow down to SL. Until now Mo always fled, he avoided and dodged SL and his problems. But here he faced them head on bearing the consequences with his head held high.

Why were we shown this blow so explicitly?! That’s kinda scary. A concussion maybe? Hopefully it was just meant to emphasize their fight. Also I want to scream! Such cowards! Three against one. SL and his gang have no redeeming qualities!

This is such an important scene. That’s what it’s all about. Mo and SL are alike, Mo and HT are not. SL has told HT the same thing some chapters ago. Mo and HT live in different worlds. HT is well liked. He is a model student, he is popular with his peers, the relationship to his family is complicated at best and broken at worst. Money is no issue for him. He has no idea what things are worth, what labour is worth. That’s no doubt the reason why he asked bosslady how much Mo earned. Because he has no idea about these kind of things. And it was obviously quite a harsh reality check. Mo is different in every way. That’s a reality. Mo knows that. HT knows that too. But here’s the thing, it’s not important at all. Because all that will never change what they mean to each other despite their differences. And I have a feeling that even those two mules are starting to get that.

The aftermath. God, Mo let someone (preferably HT) help you please? What did that psychopath SL do to you?? Mo’s cleaning the earrings. One of them is obviously broken. The pin is disjointed. Who knows if they can be repaired. Mo saved them anyway. He reached into the fire (that surely hurt like hell) to secure them. He looks like shit, covered in blood and mud and still he’s cleaning the earrings first. It’s so sad and tragic but the fish is probably dead in the bag (FYI: I don’t know how it happened but a lot of people think that the fish is missing after the fight. That’s wrong. It’s still present in the original art. You can check on OX weibo)

It breaks my heart. I’m convinced this is the turning point in their relationship. This is their moment of truth. What will happen? How will they move forward from here on out? HT couldn’t protect what he wanted to keep safe the most. Mo feels lost, hopeless and like a failure? What happens next will determine their future path together.

It’s so painful how much this reminds me of that scene. (Btw another big turning point of the story)

My (most likely totally wrong) predictions for the next chapter:

We will see it pretty soon. This weekend (please!).

HT will lose his cool. I expect raging anger or tears or both.

Mo will try to calm HT down by touching him (on his arm or face).

They will kiss and live happily ever after.

[j3ssisam3ss]

Childhood Friends - Fluff

For @animebookworm16

It got kind of long and I’m not really sure it still counts as fluff, but here’s my piece for @maribat-angst-fluff-april, prompt 25, Childhood Friends.

Damian Al Ghul-Wayne was five years old the first time he met a girl his age. And in typical League of Assassins style, he went for efficiency by meeting ten at once.

“These are your betrothed,” Talia told him. “All but one will be dead by your twelfth birthday. You will marry the sole survivor on your eighteenth birthday and produce an Heir to carry on the great legacy of the League of Assassins.”

Nine of the girls heard the words without so much as a flinch. The last stared in shock at Talia, then broke into tears.

“Quiet, Marinette,” Talia hissed.

“No,” she yelled defiantly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I want my mama!”

Talia backhanded her and she fell to the floor with a yelp.

Damian surveyed the girl – Marinette – with distaste.

“Mother, surely you don’t consider this sniveling coward worthy to compete for my hand?”

“Her mother, Sabine Cheng, was our best assassin for years before she turned traitor. I suppose she’s lost her touch if she raised such a weak daughter.” Talia shrugged elegantly. “No matter, if she turns out to be useless, we’ll ship her mutilated corpse back to Sabine as a reminder of what happens when you cross the League.”

She waved the girls away. “To your training now.”

Damian watched as Marinette sniffled and followed the other girls out the door.

She won’t last a week.

He had no idea how wrong he was.

.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was five years old the first time she won a fight. And in typical Dupain-Cheng fashion, she did so in the most unpredictable way possible.

“You’re going down, pigtails,” shouted a pretty brunette, charging at Marinette with a sword that was as tall as she was.

With a startled shriek, Marinette darted away. She hated how behind she was here. Back home, she was good at everything – reading circle, art class, tussles when the teacher’s back was turned. Here, it felt like she was constantly playing catch-up.

Not to mention, the constant threat of death was not fun.

Skidding around a corner of the labyrinth arena, she tripped over a protruding stone and fell to the ground. The brunette grinned viciously, advancing towards her.

Marinette smiled nervously. “Can’t we talk this out?”

“Not a chance, shortie,” said the brunette.

Marinette glanced around frantically.

I don’t want to die!

She reached for a rock, a stick, anything that could help her fight, but came up with only a handful of sand. With a pleading glance heavenward, she flung it into the brunette’s face and lurched to her feet, grinning when the girl had to stop to get the grit out of her eyes.

Taking off into the labyrinth of passages, she nearly stumbled again, this time over a nearly buried metal object.

She shifted away the dirt surrounding it and smirked. “Finally, a weapon I know how to use.”

Ten minutes later, the watching League members straightened in surprise as the smallest and weakest of Damian’s betrotheds utterly decimated her opponent.

With a frying pan.

.

“What are you doing here?”

The two children spoke in unison, glaring daggers at one another.

“I always come here,” Marinette said. “It’s my drawing spot.”

“The vents are my domain, Dupain-Cheng,” Damian said. “Get out.”

Two years’ worth of resentment and anger simmered beneath Marinette’s skin.

 Drawing is the last thing I have of home. I won’t let him take it from me.

“No.”

Damian looked thunderstruck and Marinette couldn’t keep the smirk off her face.

“I am Heir to the Demon! You will obey me!”

“You may be Heir to the Demon, but right now you’re also a kid skipping classes,” Marinette argued. “And if you make me leave, I’ll tell Talia exactly where you go when you’re not in class.”

Ha, take that, you tyrant!

Damian froze. Marinette watched as emotions overtook his face – anger, resentment, then acceptance.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

Marinette smiled and returned to her sketchbook – which wasn’t really a sketchbook, just some loose papers she’d tucked into her history book.

A few minutes later, Damian peered over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Drawing,” she said, holding out a few of her older sketches, the ones she wouldn’t mind losing if Damian decided to rip them. “There’s your mother fighting, cook making soup, the sunset from this other spot in the vents – actually, that one’s pretty bad because I didn’t have any colors.”

Damian stared at the drawing of his mother.

“I’m keeping this,” he announced.

Well, at least he didn’t tear it up.

The next week, when Marinette arrived at her drawing spot, Damian was already there. With an annoyed grunt, he shoved a sketchbook and colored pencils into her hands.

Marinette looked between him and the supplies in confusion. “What’s this for?”

“Teach me how to draw.”

Marinette bit her lip, looking longingly at the colored pencils. Then, she pushed them back towards Damian.

“I want you to give me weapons training. As often as I teach you drawing.”

I may be naturally talented at combat, but the other girls have been training their entire lives. I need to catch up.

Damian eyed her suspiciously. “That’s against the rules.”

“So? Are you scared?”

“Never.”

“Then it’s a deal?”

“It’s a deal.”

.

Damian lunged, making a displeased noise when his quarry danced out of his reach.

“You’re slow today, Dami,” Marinette teased. “Losing your touch?”

Marinette was no longer the scared little girl she’d been at five, or even at seven. She’d thrown herself into her training with single-minded determination and two years of training with Talia by day and Damian by night had made her a formidable – and snarky – combatant.

“Never,” Damian replied. His next attack nearly threw her off-balance.

With a grunt, Marinette recovered her footing and countered with a flurry of blows that would have left a lesser opponent dizzy.

Damian smirked, parrying each attack easily. “Completely mediocre. Should I tell my mother that her protégé is slipping?”

Although he’d never admit it, Damian was proud of her. She’d gone from being the worst of the League’s trainees to the only one able to keep up with him in a fight.

“Me? Slipping? Not a chance.” Marinette flipped backwards, knocking his weapon away. “Hey, Damian?”

“Yes, Marinette?” He scooped up his katana, readying himself for her next move.

“The floor is lava.”

With a startled intake of air, he leaped onto the nearest table.

“Really?” he asked, half annoyed, half amused.

Marinette giggled, peering down at him from her spot in the ceiling rafters. “I thought we could use an extra challenge.”

Damian glanced up at her. “You just like having the high ground.”

“Technically speaking, it’s the high rafter,” she pointed out.

“Either way, it won’t prevent me from defeating you,” Damian said, pulling himself into the rafters.

At that moment, the door opened and they both immediately went still.

“Damian? Are you here?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him. “Skipping again?” she mouthed.

Damian shrugged in response.

Rolling her eyes, Marinette gestured to the vents behind him. “I’ll meet you in the lower training rooms to finish our bout.”

“Marinette!” The teacher startled as she caught a glimpse of the pigtailed girl. “What are you doing up there?”

Effortlessly, the girl swung down from the ceiling, drawing the teacher’s attention away from Damian’s hiding place.

“Just improving my arm strength, Mistress Eva.” As she distracted his teacher with false information about his whereabouts, Damian climbed into the vents.

Marinette makes a surprisingly tolerable ally.

.

It didn’t seem to matter how many people Marinette killed; it never got easier. Surrounded by the bodies of Deathstroke’s traitors, she retched.

She was alone. Somehow, in the midst of the fight, she’d gotten separated from the rest of the League’s loyalists.

I need to get moving. I’m an easy target right now.

With a shuddering breath, she climbed to her feet and made her way out of the compound and into the shadows. It was there, staring at the ruins of the League’s strongest base, that the realization hit her.

“I’m free,” Marinette whispered, tears trickling down her face.

The Head of the Demon was dead, his followers scattered.

“I can finally go home.”

She ignored the voice in her mind that said her home was here, with the League, with Damian. She ignored the tightness in her chest at the thought of never seeing Damian again. She ignored the fear that he might already be dead.

The League kidnapped me. Talia abused me. Even if I managed to be happy here, I owe the Al Ghuls nothing. A vow of loyalty made under duress is no vow at all.

Her hands curled into fists.

And if they come for me again, I’ll be ready.

.

Damian scowled as their plane descended into Gotham.

“This is imbecilic. I should be assisting you in decimating our enemies, not hiding like a frightened child.”

“Damian,” his mother’s voice was cold. “This is not up for negotiation. You will stay here and train with your father.”

“Yes, Mother,” he replied bitterly. A moment passed, then he tilted his head in thought. “But what of my betrothed? If she is to be my equal, should she not train with me?”

Talia studied him carefully. “You use the singular of betrothed,” she noted. “Despite the fact that three remain alive. I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me which one you consider your wife-to-be?”

“Tt. Your protégé, the Cheng girl, is the only one that even approaches competent. You know this.”

“I also know that you trained her separately – against my orders,” Talia said.

Damian nearly flinched. “And yet you didn’t stop me.”

“I wonder if that was a mistake,” his mother said. “You feel more for her than you should.”

“She is an effective ally. That is all.”

“Then you won’t mind being separated from her for a while.”

“Not at all, Mother,” Damian lied.

.

“Marinette? Is that you?” Her mother looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

Marinette smiled. “Hello, Mama.”

Sabine reached out a shaking hand to cup her face. “How are you here? We saw you die.”

“Sabine, do you know where – ” Tom dropped the pan of croissants. “Marinette?”

He jumped over the counter and raced to her. Marinette took a step back before her mind caught up with her body.

This is Papa, you idiot. He’s not a threat.

She threw herself into his arms, shoving away her fears.

Twisting to face her mother, she said, “I don’t know how my death was faked, but I never died. The League kidnapped me.”

Tom’s arms tightened around her.

“The League?” Sabine’s face went pale. “What did they want with you?”

“The usual,” Marinette said with a shrug. “Revenge on you for leaving and a capable assassin and potential wife for Damian if I turned out to be any good.”

“Who’s Damian?” Tom asked with a frown.

Marinette grinned. “Oh, Damian’s great! He’s the Heir to the League, but he’s actually pretty okay for an assassin. He helped me get good enough to survive. You know, after I blackmailed and bribed him.”

“What?”

.

Meeting his father did not go the way Damian had imagined.

Talia always spoke of Bruce Wayne’s great intellect, his strength in combat, his determination in all things. She never mentioned his brainless playboy act, his absurd prohibition of killing, or his habit of taking in strays. Damian wasn’t sure which one was most offensive, but he was incredibly disappointed in his father regardless.

He had to reassess after he saw Batman at work. When not purposely acting like a buffoon, Bruce Wayne was everything his mother had described and more, entirely deserving of Damian’s respect.

He set out to prove himself in his father’s eyes. It didn’t go well. Whatever he did, it was the wrong thing. In any fight with the imposter sons, Damian was punished – even if he won. Assisting his father with Wayne Enterprises was met with an eye-roll and a request to stay away from Bruce’s office.

It should have made Damian angry but instead it hurt and Damian did not understand why.

And then his father was gone. Richard Grayson became Batman.

Damian became Robin. Finally.

And yet the triumph felt hollow.

Not to mention, it came with strings attached: ‘Murder is bad.’ ‘Justice, not vengeance.’ ‘Robin doesn’t kill.’ ‘Protect rather than avenge.’

Grayson’s teachings were imbecilic. And yet he had to follow them. His mother had yet to finish with the traitors.

He wondered where Marinette was, if she was undergoing similar training, if she fought the way he did to reign in the bloodlust. Considering how she had to hide her dislike of killing, how she helped heal her competitors, he thought probably not.

Slowly, things got easier. Grayson became tolerable. Damian learned to suppress the instinct, the muscle memory that said ‘kill or be killed.’ He found an adoration for animals and learned to deal with his classmates. He finally began to understand why Grayson and his father valued life so highly. His father came back and he chose to deny the League. Wayne Manor became home.

On days when he struggled, he retreated to his room and the comfort of his sketchbook. And if a certain blue-eyed girl made an appearance every few pages, well, who would know but him?

.

Returning home did not go the way Marinette had imagined.

She knew it wouldn’t be sunshine and roses, of course. But she hadn’t expected the magnitude of the changes in her home, or in herself.

School was laughably easy. Marinette had the equivalent of several college degrees. Finding x and learning how to spell ‘earthquake’ was a waste of her time. Instead, she spent class drawing and coming up with increasingly complex plans for fighting off the League should they try to kidnap her again.

She kept herself closed off from her classmates – she didn’t know how she’d ever called them friends. They were neutral parties at best – not one ever stood up for her against Chloe. Her parents encouraged them to give her classmates a chance, but the League had trained her well. Misplaced trust could kill. And Marinette had fought long enough for survival to know that dropping your guard was a death knell.

She hated hurting her parents though.

Though they tried to hide it, she saw the pain cross their faces when she flinched away from hugs. When she moved like an assassin rather than a child. When she gave away her stuffed animals. When she skipped family game night and spent her time training.

She hated hurting her parents. So she changed.

Marinette locked away her lethal grace, faking clumsiness and turning it into an art form. She hid her weapons, training only when her parents were asleep. She returned to family game nights; she initiated hugs. At school, she became bubbly and friendly again, though she trusted no one.

More than anything, she tried to atone. She sought out those in need and tried to help – whether by providing food, babysitting, or making them warm clothing. She discovered an interest in fashion design, but mostly stuck to making the essentials for those in need. She met a tiny floating bug named Tikki and became a superhero.

On days when she struggled, she retreated to her room and the comfort of her sketchbook. And if green eyes and a cocky smirk featured prominently in the book, well, who would know but her?

.

Damian frowned as he followed his brother into Wayne Enterprises.

"I don't understand why it's so important for me to be here."

"C'mon, Baby Bird!" Dick said. "You said you wanted to be more involved in the company!"

"I meant the business side of things," Damian said. "I have no interest in showing around a gaggle of unruly teenagers."

"You're a teenager too," Dick pointed out. "It'll be fun!"

Damian sniffed. "I'm an adult. And fun, really? Surely you don't truly believe that?"

Dick sighed. "Just give it a chance, okay? They seem like really great kids."

They walked into the lobby and Damian stopped short, eyes catching on long black hair and brilliant blue eyes.

"Marinette?"

.

In truth, Marinette wasn't all that excited about the Wayne Enterprises tour. The architecture was interesting, sure, but her class had a habit of making themselves a target and Bruce Wayne's patronage was not helping.

She gave it three days, at most, before they got in trouble with Gotham's Rouges.

Which meant she was on 'keep the class from dying' duty. Joy.

She kept her eyes and ears peeled, which meant that she heard the faint whisper of her name from an unfamiliar voice.

"Marinette?"

Forest-green eyes filled with far too much emotion had her breath catching in her throat.

"Damian?"

With obvious effort, the League's Heir pulled himself together. "Fancy meeting you here, Dupain-Cheng."

His voice. Oh, kwami, it should be illegal to look AND sound that good. Nope. Nope. Not doing this. He's an assassin, get your act together, Marinette.

"Al-Ghul." She was proud that her voice betrayed nothing. "I have to admit, I'm surprised to see you here. This doesn't seem like your scene."

She reached out for a handshake and was taken off guard when Damian kissed her hand instead. She blushed.

"It's Wayne now," Damian said. "I'm... no longer associated with the Al-Ghuls. Or their business."

He's not an assassin anymore? Yes! I knew you were a good person deep, deep down, Dami!

"Really? I broke ties with them several years ago myself."

See that, Damian? We're both good people. Good people that would be great toget - no! Bad Marinette!

Damian grinned. "In that case, I look forward to reconnecting. Perhaps after the tour?"

Oh, kwami, I'm doomed.

"I'd like that."

.

"What was that?" Dick asked in a low voice. "I've never seen you open up to someone so quickly."

With difficulty, Damian tore his gaze from Marinette.

Stars, she grew up gorgeous.

Damian smirked. "Don't be ridiculous, Grayson. I met Marinette over a decade ago."

I wonder, does she still consider our betrothal valid?

"Wait, so she's an assassin?" Grayson blanched. "Who is she here to kill? Who do I have to protect? Ugh! Why can't you ever have normal friends?"

"Relax," Damian chided. "She's an ex-assassin. Like me."

"That does not make me feel better. Who is she to you?"

Damian hummed in thought, running through years of teasing, fighting, and spending time together. "She was my first friend."

And maybe now something more.