#of their own and had abandoned the basic concepts of the wild ones. But for some reason the farm pet rabbits seemed to know these concepts

[azureemerald]

So, years ago in the Skyrim kink meme, there was this prompt that was essentially a hunter being so isolated from civilization that he had never met a woman and didn’t know what to do when he came across one, but was constantly aroused by her. I don’t know if it ever got filled, but the idea has stuck with me ever since.

A man who had been living isolated out in the wilderness for so long, he had never met a woman before (besides his mother). Set in a vague time period where hunting is part of survival for many.

He comes across an unconscious woman on his way back from a hunt and brings her to his cabin. Maybe she got lost or was running from something or someone. She isn’t helpless, just a bit out of her element here.

I think it’s a fun au and Simon Riley would fit into that gruff, survivalist hunter role. I had written a sort of rough outline for a story that I’ve been refining and tweaking a bit. Actual story is still in the works as I’m still planning out how I want it to go.

NSFW ahead, given the au was basically made for smut.

*—-> ahead is: breeding kink, m x f, p in v, fem reader, pregnancy mentioned, mentions of abuse and implied forced animal cruelty(Simon’s dad was a prick), Simon unaware of boundaries and social norms

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wildman Simon au idea

Simon Riley, a name he hadn’t heard in a long time. The few people that encounter him call him “Ghost”, a name that perpetuated from the few survivors that managed to escape his wrath. Territorial like a wolf, Ghost attacks any that get too close to his home, but chooses to remain hidden when hunting further from his territory.

He was raised by his father alone in a single room cabin, separated from his mother and brother at a young age. Cabin was a generous word for it. His father was abusive and cruel, forcing Simon to do horrible things to animals, in order to “become a man”. His father was eventually killed by a wild animal while they were hunting, and Simon did not try to intervene.

His upbringing left him with little social skills, not aware or understanding of social norms and boundaries. Not that he cares to interact with anyone, preferring to follow animalistic habits he learned by observing local wildlife. He is curious about his kind though, wondering about the life he was forced to leave behind so long ago. He’ll quietly observe hunters in their camps, watching the way they interact with each other, how they move, their tools and their clothing.

He makes his own clothing, taken from the hides of the animals he hunts. He makes almost everything else he needs as well, with a few exceptions. If he sees something on the body of a fallen hunter or left behind at a recently abandoned camp that he finds useful, he’ll take it. Usually it’s tools, as he seems to be much too large to fit most of their clothing.

He adopted a wolf pup some time ago, raising and naming it Riley to feel connected to his family again.

He’s never met a female of his species, save for his own mother, but he can’t remember what she looked like. Having observed the wildlife for so long, he understands the concept of reproduction, but not the mechanisms of his species. He understands his own anatomy to an extent, having stroked himself when the need arose.

So when he finally comes across what he believes to be a female of his species, he is completely overwhelmed.

Riley already considers her part of the pack, instinctively understanding she isn’t a threat. The wolf would curl up on the cabin floor beside the shoddily made bed she lay on, while Simon brooded over her.

Simon is fascinated and infatuated with her. He finds himself wanting to learn from her, making himself pliable to her whims. It’s not entirely innocent, as he is frequently aroused by her, loving the softness of her skin and curves of her body. A contrast to the hard muscle of his own and the rough skin from surviving the wilderness.

He often tries to initiate sex, not understanding of the why, if she rejects his advances. In his mind, he is a virile male who can provide for his female and is thus a perfect mating partner. He likes the idea that he and “his female” are a mated pair, bonded for life. One of his favorite animals to watch are the swans, as they mate for life and the families stick close until the babies are ready to be on their own.

If she does return his affection and accepts his advances, it’s a mix of animalistic, exploratory and gentle. He lets her guide him at first, learning the ropes and absorbing every little detail. He becomes completely enthralled by the reactions he gets from her when he stimulates certain areas. The hidden little appendage under that thin bit of skin between her legs is his favorite, just from how responsive she was when he played with it. It was easy to make sure she was ready for him when all he had to do was lower his mouth on those petal-like folds. He wouldn’t have even thought of doing that had she not shown him.

And when he enters her for the first time, it’s like nothing he’s ever imagined. His hand could never be enough again. Warm, wet, tight, and accompanied by her sounds and squirming underneath him. He watches her face and movements closely, addicted to the sight, sound and feeling of her already.

He’s almost insatiable from then on. Mounting her from behind and taking up a relentless pace, or folding her legs over his shoulders outside in the grass. Images of all the wildlife roaming around the wilderness with their young flash in his mind. The swans he’d seen looking after their cygnets together, wolfpacks and their pups. Maybe even memories of his mother, loving and kind, doing everything she could to protect him and his brother from their father.

His female, his mate, would make a good mother, he thinks. Patient and kind, smart and resourceful, as he’d seen in the months he’d spent with her here at his cabin. Their pups would be well cared for, loved and protected. Simon would never be like his father, would never torment or force his offspring to do things they never wanted to do. They would be taught how to survive, but more importantly, how to live.

And when his mate starts to sport a swollen belly under the hide dress he made for her, he is already starting on making things for the incoming little one. A carrier, to start with, for him and his mate each. A crib, like the one he vaguely remembered his mother once used for his little brother, and other things he thinks they would need as it came to mind.

His mate, Riley and their growing little one, were now part of a family, something he’d been missing for a long time now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Still a work in progress, but I wanted to share it. I’ve seen similar AUs that I adore but not quite like that original prompt.

But if you know of any stories or imagines that are close, I’m a little gremlin for em.

[directdogman]

Dogman, how do you write SO WELL!?!? I love all your characters and I need to know what/where you find inspo from...

Ha. Every writer is just someone who apes the creative processes of their inspirations. For video game writing specifically, there's two answers for me.

Toby Fox is always gonna be a huge inspiration for me. I've written plots and characters before and had to abandon ideas after realizing I'd accidentally written part of UT again. Even some of the ideas I used were undeniably inspired by UT in a subconscious way and ofc, I included several explicit references to UT in my last series. Toby's a very clever guy who likely pays very close attention to the art he consumes and tries to figure out how to maximize how much his work connects with his audience. Whatever his process is, it works.

The other answer is a lil funnier: Scott Cawthon, but specifically the legend, not the man. For context: Back in the earlier days of the FNaF fandom, people had a hyper-inflated view of Scott Cawthon's writing skills that largely came from how little of a presence he had back in those days. In the vacuum of Scott actually explaining his own process in detail, people got caught up in his genuinely creative way of hiding exposition in his games using cryptid and (then) unexpected methods, and a narrative formed (one that he's since refuted.)

While he never implied it tmk, fans broadly believed that he constructed these sweeping and complex narratives with tons of cohesive moving parts, with the games essentially acting like the mere tip of his lore iceberg. People even thought he wrote so much that he had whole games worth of lore outlined from the beginning! In the first Dawko interview he gave, he clarified that this wasn't the case and explained roughly what his process was (basically just outlining rough theme ideas + aesthetics for future titles.)

However, that legend made younger-me's mind run wild and any time I wrote a story, it became very difficult for me to not keep writing down ideas while completing the grunt work that followed me finishing my scripts. When I finished DSaF 1, I already had DSaF 2's draft written and by the time 2 was done, I had enough lore for a 3rd game on paper (and a lot more stuff that I didn't use.) By the time three was out, I had pages upon pages of unused concepts/story ideas and more or less just had to decide to call it quits or else I'd be pumping out entries forever!

That's why if you go back to those older games, there's references that directly refer to future plot-points in pretty casual/easy to miss ways. (Like Henry's mention in DSaF 1, Dave being heartless in DSaF 2, Jack being soulless in 1, and even Blackjack being Jack's soul in 2. Most of 3's major plotpoints are implied somewhere in 2 and some of 2's in 1.)

DT is much the same. By the time I finished writing it, I had fairly detailed drafts for arcs for each of the characters, some early material ended up getting completely recontextualized (and even modified in small ways to not conflict with the wider ideas I came up with.)

I get really into writing my stories/characters and I always wonder exactly how things ended up where they are, what characters think about but don't say, etc etc. This is why I have an obscene amount of Crown lore that I have very little to do with rn (since he impacted the whole world so deeply.)

This extra stuff also includes plenty of sequel material ideas, though I didn't think I'd even get a chance to use them since DT performed pretty meagerly before the big release and I was expecting to have to move onto something new. Though it turned out that Scott didn't actually write his games this way (by his own admission), it's the correct answer for what my core writing inspiration for writing game narratives is.

Hope this helps!

[heretherebedork]

re: P10L

as for the horrible parenting on Faifa’s mum’s part, you’re completely right. what struck me during this entire show is their interesting concept of “divorce.” 🤔 for full disclosure: by some miracle, my parents are still happily married. so all my experiences are 2nd hand (through family and close friends).

I get that Newton/ Yota/ Faifa’s mother doesn’t live in Thailand, so she doesn’t have her own home there. (although, at the rate of her visits he might as well acquire one… 🙃) but constantly visiting N/ Y/ F’s dad and then demand an assembly of all the family members…that’s just strange. we never see her spend quality time with any of her sons individually (you know, doing activities that they might actually enjoy). now this might all be on account of her bad parenting.

as for the relationship between mum and dad, I definitely do not suggest a ww3 scenario. but their interpretation of “coparenting” is weird to say the least… the fact that they literally split up their children suggests some animosity. but during their forced gatherings they seem to be a sort of happy unit…

[now assuming that the dad is the more attentive parent in this scenario]

sorry, but if I noticed one or more of my children suffered significantly from my ex-partner, who I feel at least a little animosity to, I think I would at some point put my foot down and say “enough!”. but none of that seems to have happened here. (or at least not significantly)

where was the dad here? it’s good that he pointed out they are bad parents, but it’s a little too late. I know it’s awful to say, but at this point I would’ve even preferred a loud argument, because that at least would’ve suggested that he actually stood up for his children.

honestly this just makes me a bit sad. especially since they don’t seem to have an “alternate parental figure” (a grandparent, aunt/ uncle, family friend).

ugh…BL and parents…you could write a book about it. 😒

love,

— Thel. 💚

You could write many books about it, though I would not be the one to do it.

But basically... yeah. It's wild. They're bad parents and they hurt Faifa so much and mom claimed she knew the entire time and did... nothing?! Abandoned him again and again? Said he was sulking when he, for once, showed her that he was hurting?!

I still will never forgive her for literally forgetting about his allergy. That was the first thing we learned about her, that she didn't remember her son's allergy... and we're still supposed to believe she loves him equally to the two sons she wanted to take with her to her new family without him?

It's a family dynamic that tries to say it's solved because of a single conversation but doesn't actually touch on the other issues.

Still mad that neither Yotha nor Newton ever apologized for leaving him waiting for five hours and that mom's apology was basically just passing the blame to his father, in the end, no one acknowledged that Faifa has been hurting for so long. Mom apparently knew! Everyone was there when Faifa stared straight ahead in absolute misery while Yotha and Newton forgave her.

How did none of them see him!? He wasn't even SUBTLE!!

Anyway.

Yeah, it was an unsatisfying end and I knew it would be. Alas. GMMTV has done a few better and I had a small hope... but nope. I really wish the show had spent more time on the brothers. I really wish we'd been able to see their relationship as brothers grow and get better. Because, truthfully, seeing Yotha and Newton figure out how to show Faifa that he was loved would have been better than any amount of forgiveness that Faifa gave his mother.

[scentedpepper]

Hiiii I really liked ur recent lip fic so I had a request if it interests u :) it's probably pretty basic actually

Lip x male reader where reader is basically struggling to find a decent job because they're falling behind on bills so they become over stressed/overwork by their current shit job. This being something Lip can relate to he tries to comfort them/tries to get them to relax. (Totally not self reflecting haha 🧍🏻)

Fish.

LIP GALLAGHER X MALE READER

Summary: Lip knows when you're right and when you're wrong.

Content Warnings: None

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Hey Anon 😼

Totally doable request

Gets a little angsty there for a sec cus I can't not put angst in my fics but yk

This has got to be the mushyest thing on my page so hopefully it's alright (^-^;

Allusiveness per usual..

The self projection is so real..

I'm glad you liked my last fic and I hope you find something that works for you soon tho!!

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

Fish.

That's the smell that immediately hits Lip upon entrance into the little studio apartment you call home.

Your cat stares at him, big eyed and blinking slowly from the peeled leather sofa with a blanket draped over it to hide the tweaks and imperfections of a Craigslist bought Lazy Boy.

If the boy was none the wiser, he'd assumed your place had been ransacked, burglarized and left with nothing but items not worth taking a second glance at. Though, it wouldn't be a half bad guess given that your front door was left open and there were clothes and trash strewn about the creaky floors, some of your furniture knocked out of place or even right on its side.

But he could hear you shuffling around the bathroom, knocking something over, the clatter of it to the floor, the less than enthusiastic curse from you and an internal groan that sounded like a hog dying as you bent down to pick it up.

–He wasn't sure how he'd heard that last one.

Intuition, perhaps.

Sheer connection, even.

But he wouldn't delve too much into that concept.

Despite the reality of its contents.

A sigh escapes him, he thinks, maybe one of these days, your recklessness will get you killed. But who is he to speak?

He locks the door from the inside before abandoning his shoes at the entryway, a task you never fail to stress upon to any guest who decides to stop in your home.

The cat is now perched comfortably on the end of your mattress, yawning and stretching as he makes sense of the newcomer in his house that just so happens to be intimately close with his owner.

Lip glances at his feet as he steps into the middle of the walkway, there's holes in his socks right where his toes protrude and they'd gone through their fair share of stitching and needless patching to keep them from slipping off his feet and turning into giant floppy gray lint brushes at his ankles.

Two people, similar living situations and yet two vastly different attitudes toward it.

He tries not to focus on that particular line of thought while he tucked his hands into his front pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels until you shut the bathroom door with a slam.

You're a sight for sore eyes, hair a disheveled mess, sunken in tired eyes, wearing nothing more than boxers, a white tee halfway up your arms when you pause abruptly at the sight of him.

"Hey. “

He finally acknowledges with a little side-smirk that immediately makes you feel a way that's contradictory to every single negative emotion running wild in your head.

You look at him quizzically, pulling your head through your shirt so you could breathe through the collar and clear away some of the exhaust building up after you tugged at your own hair like a horse suffering from some sort of brain-storm induced illness.

"Door was open. " He states the obvious, just to ease the awkward silence beginning to swallow you up.

In response, your eyebrows raise, tugging at your facial features and making your frown look even more drawn, and weary as your lips, that had seen better days, curl up in such a subtle, effortless smile that Lip fails to suppress his immediate burning response.

It's an ironic smile, but it charms your features nonetheless.

“Yeah.. I-” You clear your throat all the sudden, your sentence falling off into a mumble as you grab your hair before releasing it, only succeeding at making it less than structured. Your eyes dart around the room, suddenly aware of the chaos surrounding you. “Been busy. “

You move past him with rushed steps, partially knocking into the broom leant up against the wall, it clatters to the floor loudly behind you.

Lips eyes follow your frantic movement, tracking you as you stumble past him. The broom punctuates the silence like an exclamation point and he notices your cat jumping up out of his peripheral.

He doesn't move to pick it up. Instead, he stands there, hands still in his pockets as he watches you fumble with a stack of envelopes on the counter. He sees the tremble in your fingers despite the effort to suppress it, the tips pushing deep into the thick, yellow colored paper with bold, red text emblazoned on them.

“You know, “ Lip starts, voice low and measured, “I've got a pretty good idea about what those are. “

He steps over the broom, careful not to crowd you, the air between the two of you feeling heavy and charged.

Your shoulders tense at his words, a barely perceptible flinch. For a moment, the only sound is the soft padding of your cat's paws as he slinks away.

"Yeah?" Your voice is strained, almost challenging, but there's an underlying note of relief. Of being seen.

Lip's gaze drifts from the envelopes to the deep bags under your eyes, the knit in your brow, the stain in the creases of your face, to the worn-out shoes by the door, to the empty fridge humming in the corner. He finally settles back on you, confliction in the seas of his eyes.

“Look, “ he starts, then pauses, rubbing the back of his neck. You feel him get closer to you, his warmth invading your senses at once and you have to close your eyes at it.

He takes another step, less than half, not quite touching. An invitation, not a demand.

Your fingers trace the edge of the envelope as your mind blanks, for once. The paper's supposed to be rough, you know that, but you can hardly feel it with the way your fingers have calloused with the grime and weight of construction. You battle with your instincts, not moving an inch, freezing at his non touch touch.

“I have some extra cash from–”

“No. “

It's immediate. You don't think and your body instantly makes flee from him, the sizzling of the fake fish on the stovetop re-registering in your mind.

Lip doesn't flinch, but his eyes follow you as you retreat to the stove. The sizzling fills the silence between you, a mundane sound at odds with the emotional undercurrent.

"Okay. " He says softly, his tone careful but not placating. "No money. Got it. “

He leans against the counter, giving you space but not leaving. His presence is like a gravitational pull you're fighting against.

You focus on the fish, flipping it with more force than necessary. The spatula scrapes against the pan, a harsh sound that makes you wince.

"I don't need—" You start, then stop, unsure how to finish. Charity? Help? Him? All feel like lies on your tongue.

Lip waits, his patience a contrast to your agitation. When he speaks again, his voice is low, almost confessional.

"You know, when I was at my lowest, I couldn't stand the idea of anyone helping me either. ”

There's something so melancholy in his voice, a darkness creeping into the depths of the ocean that usually swims with his gaze that draws your attention, once again, back to him and his story.

He pushed himself off the counter, coming just a little closer to you with gentle steps like he's scared to startle you into abandoning him for a second time.

"It sucked, " he goes on, "It felt like shit, it made me feel even shittier. "

Then he's behind you and he isn't reaching for you, isn't touching you and it's even more dizzying than if he just was.

You shut the burner off and slump, feeling smaller as his breath ghosts across your skin.

The fish continues to sizzle, filling up the gaps where you don't speak, almost like it's speaking for you.

He's an inferno, a personal sun, everything burns in his orbit, you're convinced.

But you don't like the heat, the tension.

So, instead, you stand straight with a grimace as you say,

"What're you here for, Lip?" You glance at the clock on your stove. "It's nearly midnight. "

His eyes trail down your neck and he says nothing.

Everything goes quiet. So quiet, that when you tilt your head away from him, you catch the cat staring blankly at the two of you with his tongue out and drool pooling on the ground beneath it.

You press your lips together as your brows, furrowed, meet the bridge of your nose with creases and wrinkles you've picked up from excessive worrying.

"Here for a hookup?" You don't face him as you say this, instead you busy yourself with retrieving a plate but fail to find a clean enough looking one amongst the pile of dishes in your sink and settle for a coffee filter instead.

"Jesus christ, Y/N. “ He leans forward so he's sure you can hear every word he says. "Stop projecting your shit onto me. "

Ouch.

Your lips purse, pulling down to a flat, disapproving line at that.

"You're an asshole. “

You place the faux fish on the makeshift plate with a slightly shaking hand and then turn to him, looking him in the eye in distraught before you're speeding past him again, to the couch to rip the blanket you've got on there back over the chipping surface before you finally land on it, slumping into the battered cushions with a huff and a deep, tired sigh that has him blinking at you.

The cat has since vacated the premises upon the third trip you made around your apartment, choosing to go do gods knows what over sitting on his owner's lap which is even more distressing than anything Lip had seen on his way over, or once he had actually stepped inside.

For a moment he stands awkwardly in the kitchen, staring at the back of your head, unable to fathom what you must be thinking, so he ponders, maybe trying to relieve some of that pressure instead.

"Why does this—" he catches his own sentence, having almost used the words "make you", and quickly removes that option from use. "How's your stress lately?" Is the question he elects to ask instead.

"Stress doesn't bother me. "

You lie, blatantly, blatantly lying.

He clicks his tongue, finally removing himself from the stagnant stance and strolling toward you.

One foot before the other, before the other, before the next and the next and the next, finally finding himself within the circle that surrounds your worn out couch.

"Come on. " Lip grunts lowly, eyeing the coffee table you're sat before that's cluttered with junk, and half gone boxes of garbage, with rags and bottles, stray pens and hair ties.

"Lip–"

"Lemme see. " He hums at the sight of an empty plate with something half burnt and some sort of vegetable fried in butter but otherwise undistinguishable. He's pretty sure he might have to scrape it off from how long it's been sitting there, hardening.

"I didn't say you could help clean my shit. " You warn him, trying to maintain a certain sort of coldness even though there was no way of disguising the way your shoulders lessened at his voice, or the way your back pushed in further in the seat.

That's okay. He liked your stubbornness more and more with each passing minute.

You kept him on his toes.

He sighs in response, mumbling out a comment he kept to himself over your unwillingness to accept some kind of help; like you were starving– dehydrated.

He kneels slowly in front of you and reaches out his hands until your body stiffens and then wilts underneath them.

For the sake of your pride and that stubborn resistance to accept any amount of comfort, or to even bring up the fact that Lip is, in some ways, your rock.

He can do that for you, he tells himself. He likes being relied on by someone.

Someone who needs him in a way you never let anyone see because you had this notion to keep it all locked away inside of you like you could be dependable, like you were all you had.

"Listen to me. " He takes the tasteless fish away from you and for a moment you look appalled and ready to snap, but then he grabs your hands from your lap and slides his fingers along your palms and the fight is gone at that instant.

Your eyes glaze, darkening the circles underneath and he can't help but tug you away from the makeshift plate, from the furniture, the piles of stuff on the ground, the stack of boxes in the corner, the scattered clothing and the woes of your life.

Before you know it, his arms are cradling you and his warmth, his body heat, his scent, it's all encompassing.

"You don't gotta be perfect, you know?"

You grit your teeth when he says this, laying limp like a baby on your half living room, half bedroom floor with your face buried against his collar as he practically lay above you, holding you.

"Stop. " You force out, then a second time and a third before you can get anything more coherent from your lips.

He quiets you each time with another and another gut wrenching statement and soon, your intensities are practically splayed out across the stained, Dollar Tree carpet.

"It's not anything I can't handle. "

"I'm sure you can– you always find a way. " He shifts a bit, but it doesn't disrupt your hold on him. "But it's okay to need help every once and awhile. It's okay. Even to ask for it. "

"Lip, I just—”

He hears the anger in your tone, and he shushes you with a coo like noise and a slight nod of his head.

"I can't find a fucking job. " You mutter a few moments later into his shoulder, where his hands had snaked up into your hair so he could run the pads of his fingers along your scalp.

He nods, sympathetic, "You'll find something. You'll figure it out. "

"What the fuck am I doing wrong?" Your fingers raise from the carpet in silent resentment as you ask this, reaching up to claw at the thin, coarse fabric adorning his chest.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You're fucking great. The problem isn't you. Okay?"

"Sure, " You sigh, gripping onto his shoulders tighter, pulling his torso closer to you. "You say that because you think you'll hurt my feelings if you say anything else. "

"That's not true. " Lip snickers, sliding the hand back from where he was gently squeezing the back of your neck to play around with your hair instead. "If I was, we wouldn't be talking right now. You know?“

"Right. " You sniffle, a bit of a laugh bubbling up within the depths of your chest. "Because your heart belongs to anyone other than yourself? Doubt it. "

And the snark causes a giggle to erupt into the quiet of your little studio apartment.

You can smell him. His smell is like his scent mixed with coffee and sugar– for those Mondays when you want a treat, but are too lazy to walk the three blocks to the bakery for anything different than a cup of joe.

"Wow. " He snorts in return, resting his forehead against the top of your head where your nose met the tuffs of his curly, messy looking hair. "You're lucky I like you. "

"Uh huh. " A strained chuckle pushes past your lips, eyes sliding shut as your hands find his hips.

The sound of your heart beating in your ear is all you can hear as his fingers clasp around the sides of your face.

Everything is calming, cathartic. His demeanor is like honey; it runs down your bones, seeping into your open wounds and they begin to grow a bit plumper under the heat.

"Sometimes I just—" you pause, the feeling of his thumbs stroking back and forth across your jawline is too distracting for you to pay attention to the fact that you're trying to get your point across, "feel like there's something bad coming? Something coming for me, you know?"

"Yeah, " he blinks, hands gliding from your cheeks to the underside of your ears. "I know what you mean. "

His hands flatten, then run down until they find the collar of your shirt and a part of you relaxes as his fingertips stroke the outer lining of the stretched fabric.

"I get the same feeling too. " He adds, voice, so wonderfully low, rumbling from deep within his chest. "All the time. " He sighs quietly, rocking a bit.

"I'm gonna help you. " His eyes are dilated, even against the muted white ceiling light that hung above the two of you. You don't think twice to notice. “Get something going. Something solid. “

"Lip. " You choke a bit on the inside as he says this, turning your head to the right.

"I know you don't need it, but I want to. "

Against your better judgment, you take a dive and glance him right in his eyes and he doesn't falter.

It surprises you, then it doesn't.

A short sharp intake, air filling your lungs and Lip smiles. Just a sliver of skin at the edges of his lips. You take note of his change of expression immediately.

"When was the last time you had something actually good to eat?”

You narrow your gaze at him, ready to throw back an answer at his statement when he silences you by raising his hand up, index finger flying to shush you as he points at something past the two of you.

When you turn to look, you see your cat lapping his sandpaper tongue on your fish, seemingly enjoying it more than you had been.

"Been awhile for him too, apparently. "

You groan quietly, leaning back into him where the sound of his beating heart feels like music from some unknown realm your tired mind couldn't hope to understand.

"C'mon, " Lip nudges you gently.

"I'll get you something to eat. “

[thecrusadercomrade]

Idea for a TWDG Fanfic: Clementine the Bounty Hunter

This is a fairly simply concept, but I thought of it the other day and I thought it was pretty cool. Basically, Clementine and AJ never settle down in one place after season three, instead staying on the move all the time as Clementine grows into a young adult.

Over time though, supplies are getting harder and harder to find. They had to abandon the car due to lack of fuel. There's very little ammo or medicine to be found, and pretty much zero in the way of canned food. Plus Clementine doesn't know a lot about hunting or foraging, which makes things even more difficult. By this point we've firmly moved past the point of scavenging for old resources and are now in the post-post-apocalypse era where communities are all creating their own food/weapons/resources, so life isn't very good if you're just a wandering drifter.

But while spending a day in one of the friendlier settlements before moving on, Clementine sees something on a wall that looks straight of the wild west: a wanted poster, for a lone individual who apparently murdered a member of the community and is believed to be hiding in the nearby woods. The poster promises valuable supplies in exchange for capturing or killing this person, with the exact details to be negotiated with the local head of security.

Clementine realizes that this would be her new way to keep herself and AJ alive and fed. She's dealt with plenty of awful people before, so she knows how to take care of herself. And so Clementine takes on the job, which begins a new career for her of tracking down and capturing/killing dangerous criminals on behalf of various communities and groups in the region. If she kills them, she'll usually take some recognizable piece of clothing or something as proof, and later on she'll even get an old camera she can use to take pictures of the target as proof. Before long, Clementine becomes a legend in the region as the smoking gun of justice, cleaning up the local trash... for a price.

[lightningqueen11]

Got these lads some better references! Not complete ones, but they're still pretty good.

Here are the 8 Links I'm planning on including! I have general characterization concepts for all the others, but they were being kinda annoying designs. I might include em as I continue to figure out this AU, but for now here's what I got!

Our very first hero! I don't really consider the SS prequel manga canon here so Sky's the very first holder of the Hero's spirit. He's a very kind soul, protective of those he cares for and holding the endless determination and courage of any hero.

After the end of Skyward Sword, Sky's taken up a bit of an 'ambassador to the surface' type role, educating those who've come down with while Zelda spends as much time as she can with her family on Skyloft. Though the scars from his fight with Demise still twinge, Sky's happy to move forward with his life on the surface.

Minish is our youngest member, but that doesn't mean you can underestimate him. Minish is quiet, playful, and endlessly curious. He's the best spy this chain has, able to shrink down to the size of a mouse and be completely invisible to everyone but fellow children.

After saving Zelda from being encased in stone and having her light force drained, Minish simply seeks to spend his time enjoying his childhood with his best friend and learning to forge a sword as good as the four sword.

Mask is our resident angst, his life has been far too hard. Mask is mysterious, closed off, and talented. With the body of a teenager and the mind of a young adult, this lad has plenty of tricks up his sleeve.

Resuming his travels after Termina, Mask finds himself looking for somewhere to belong. He's travelled to Labrynna, Holodrum, Koradai, and yet the only place he really felt any sense of family remains in that strange war with Tune and Captain. Perhaps, someday, he'll find his way back to them.

Tune's our resident navigator! He can read and create maps and starcharts like no other, plus he knows his way around a boat. Despite the more pirat-y aesthetic, Tune's really a sweetheart. Sure, he enjoys finding abandoned treasure and sailing, but he's hardly a ruthless bounty hunter or thief. He just loves meeting people, and wants to help anywhere he can. A trait practically required for the hero life.

After his adventures, Tune's living a life of travel on the Great Sea. He has his own boat, but broadly he sails with Tetra, the two finding buried treasures from Hyrule. He's always had that itch to go somewhere, to do something, and maybe he's about to get exactly what he wants.

Wolf's a bit of a mysterious edgy man himself, but this time it's all appearances. Our resident furry is just a big huggable rancher with a protective streak when it comes to his family. He's amazing with animals, and with the help of a certain amazing nose, he can track basically anything.

I'm diverging from canon a lot here. Midna's never shattered the mirror of twilight in this universe, she's just not around in the light world because it would hurt to be anything more than a shadow there. Instead, after their adventure Wolf and her hang out frequently. Wolf's pretty content with his lot in life, he's got his family, his home, and his best friend. Really, what more could he ask for?

Unabashed favorite character alert, Four's a bit of an asshole. Like, they're very heroic and frankly, often right, but they've still got an arrogance problem. They're fiercely loyal and incredibly smart, and will take the role as supposed leader because frankly, no one else wants the title.

After returning the Four Sword with Vaati and Ganon completely obliterated, Four's gone back to their life as a knight. There's still a fierce purple ache in their chest for a certain Shadow, but the teal confidence easily shoves that to the side in favor of being the perfect warrior. Now, Four's rising through the ranks of Hyrule's guard, ready for whatever challenge comes next.

Wild fits their name very well. They're quick to explore every mountain and valley, loot every chest, and find every korok. Incredibly different from the Link from before the Calamity, they share memories but not so much experiences. Wild is the best archer in the group, even without their champion ability.

I can't quite decide whether I want Wild to be pre or post TOTK, but it doesn't make too terribly much of a difference. After his adventure he continues to explore Hyrule and the lands beyond it. He's verrryyy close with his Zelda, and the two like to do a bit of mad science with Purah every so often. He's happy with his new lease in life, but if the chance comes to explore something new? Well, Wild's definitely going to take it.

Cap's here! And he's a bit of a mess. Traumatized from his fights with Cia and Dark Link, Captain has trouble being confident in himself at all anymore. He's always been naturally confident, but ever since that first battle with Dark, Captain's been suppressing that part of himself. He's a very skilled leader and tactician, with the most experience working with a large group.

After the war Captain.. didn't really know what to do with himself. His friends had left, and there was no longer anything to fight against. He decided to dedicate himself to being a guard, but he still felt a little empty. He's never really moved on from the events of the war, but maybe soon he'll return to some old friends.

[soyouareandrewdobson]

Meinu Henshu Dobson! The abandoned magical girl thing....

When it comes to his “original” work, such as Formera, Alex ze Pirate, Percy Phillips etc. I think that Dobson always had these two (of many) main flaws work against him.

His ideas were too generic for his own good. I am not necessarily against a “generic” idea for a story, as we live in a time where almost every tale has been told countless times or the basics and tropes of certain genres are more than well known to a lot of us. Sonic Frontiers e.g. has been called by some a “Breath of the Wild” knock off with typical Sonic game plot elements, but that doesn’t change the fact it was (at least to me) a lot of fun.

However, there is a thing as being “too generic”, which to me is when your story not only follows in the footstep of something already well known, but lacks even more personality than you would think at first. The reason why something like that can happen, is because the creator may not spend enough time to establish elements of their work, that can help make certain characters, the basic plot etc. stand out a bit. Such as personality traits, the goals of the main characters, the rules by which the world functions. And this in turn happens often, because past an initial pitch idea, they do not really flesh things out, thinking they can figure more details out down the line. In Dobson’s work this shows to me e.g. a lot in Formera, where the main character meets along the line a discount hippie version of Muten Roshi that does not play any relevance past his 5-6 pages of screentime, the leads lack personality, the idea feels a lot like a proto-Isekai (preteen magically transported to another realm) from the time BEFORE the genre became more well known in the 2010s and we don’t even get a lot of story behind the world of Formera itself. Or Percy Phillips, who really is just a knock off version of the worst traits people associated with Sherlock Holmes past 1918 and who even compares his own archenemy straight to Moriarity. Pretty much all of these works lacked a certain “spark” of individuality and were not fleshed out enough when he began to work on them. And I am not saying, that if you want to create a story, you need to know every miniscule detail already two days after you had the initial idea. Many great stories can develop some of their greatest moments along the way. But you need to have some basic concept for things as themes, main characters and tone kinda in your mind, while also not being afraid to flesh things out.

Dobson never really went through with a lot of his stuff As much as I hate a badly told story and I want certain shows/comics/books/whatever just to end, I hate the idea of an “abrupt” ending even more. Even if a story is undoubtedly shit, I kinda want to see its’ creator manage to at least bring it to a proper end story wise, instead of someone pulling the plug and leaving it at whatever point it was by then without resolving its main plot or giving answers to certain things in them. So you shouldn’t be surprised, that Dobson’s “storydriven” comics really annoy me, seeing how a lot of them were just unceremoniously put into never ending hiatus by him. Simply because they did not turn into hits that made him instantly famous online. A behavior, that to me always signified just how much Dobson cared more about himself, than the actual work and characters he created.

Because of these flaws, whenever Dobson hinted on the idea that he was going to publish something new or that he had something in mind he wanted to try out, me and many other people just rolled our eyes, knowing that it won’t likely come ever out. Or that if it did, it would be more generic than white bread with vegan butter and be over after four weeks of no one caring much for it online.

And yet, Dobson managed to surprise me and other people in 2018 when he posted that thing, showing how he was even beyond the point of having only “generic” ideas.

This post to me just recks of desperation to stay relevant, while also showing how little he understands the very thing he wants to talk about.

I will admit, I am not very familiar with the magical girl genre overall. Part of it is, because there is so much to it and that it had been in something of a flux when it comes to things such as tone and intend over the last 15+ years alone.

However, I do know the following: The magical girl genre is essentially an invention of the 20th century, that has its roots likely in the 50s and 60s. At least Osamu Tezuka’s “Princess Knight” and things like the 60s western tv show “Bewitched” seemed to have quite a bit of an impact in the 60s and 70s for people in Japan to not only create stories with female characters in the lead, but also give them magic powers to fight bad guys. Even back then the genre being in a steady flux, as some shows were selling themselves of their rather cutesy design for the heroins, had the main character just have silly but fun adventures, while others focused more on action to also attract boys, at times even creating rather “raunchy” content for the time being. Examples of all of that would be shows like Magical Princess Minky Momo, Majokko Meg-Chan and Cutey Honey.

However, it wasn’t until the first anime adaptation of Sailor Moon hit the airwaves in 1992, that the Magical Girl genre became a worldwide phenomenon.

Now to be fair, Sailor Moon did not invent all common tropes already associated with the genre (such as magical sidekicks, characters, aging up when turning into their hero personas, tomboyish designs, action, the power of friendship or love motivating others to stop the bad guys…) but it did popularize the “monster of the week” structure, the concept of a team of heroines fighting together instead of just one lead character, the increasing escalation of conflict within a specific story arc and so on for a general audience. Making the anime a smash hit, that others decided to copy. Some of them doing so successfully while also establishing their own identity along the way (such as the Pretty Cure franchise), while others… not so much.

One of these things is not like the other, one of these things is total GARBAGE!

Overall, the magical genre has been separated in 4 major camps as of now: a. the classical genre of cute girls fighting against evil and having silly adventures or fighting the monster of the week, mostly functioning as coming of age stories (such as Card Captor Sakura)

b. The more action oriented approach as codified by something like Pretty Cure and in the west would e.g. be determined by She-Ra or Ladybug to some degree

c. The “parody”, often times playing with expectations for comedic results (Magical Girl Ore)

d. The “deconstruction” like “Magica Madoka”. Shows and stories that look at the otherwise positively presented concept of a magical girl story and will turn it around by focusing on existential horror, the grim reality of young girls and kids forced to fight against evil or are just plain violent shlock that tries to present itself as “more meaningful” than it actually is. And btw, I do not hate darker takes on rather light subjects, but I just think the medium of anime had been kinda overrun by it in the last 10 years.

Again, I myself am not really following the genre that much. I watched Sailor Moon when I was younger, I heard of some of those deconstructions over the years (but have no intend of really watching them) and frankly, I may give PrettyCure a bit of a second try after watching at least a cute anniversary movie of the show recently at a convention.

But even if it is not entirely my cup of tea, I do get to some degree how they work. What makes them popular with the audience, the tones that work and don’t, what tropes to expect from a certain show at times depending on which camp it is from etc.

As such, I also get that if you want to make a story within the genre, you need to have a bit more in mind to it than just “It’s about magical girls fighting evil”

Cause there are a shitton of ways how this can be done.

It is like saying “I want to make an American like superhero story”, ignoring the fact that this does not specify enough what you are aiming for. Like, do you want it to be in tone more like a golden age comic, a child friendly cartoon or a modern comic? Is your main character going to have inherit superpowers or gain them? Does he or she even have powers or are they relying on gadgets? Are their villains normal people, superpowered freaks or cosmic horrors? What the heck do you want to go for!

This is a question, that is more than justified in this post.

Cause here is the deal: aside of it having a talking animal companion, transformation sequences and a school setting to it (which in itself is a mild surprise, considering Dobson’s hatred for institutions of education) he has literally not thought about anything. And even what he has isn’t just barebones, it is bone scratches.

“My story shall be set in a school”. Great. What kind of school? Elementary? High School? College? Waldorf School? Private Academy? Is the main character supposed to be an actress going to a film school and uses her education and acting skills to at times trick the monsters during fights?

Talking animal companion… so, regular animal that gets the power to talk via magic by accident like Spike the Dog in the Equestria Girls specials, or was it already born with the ability?

But it is the part where he asks the people reading that post “but what about weapons, magical items, vilains etc.?” that really drives me nuts, even just as some idiot who at times pitches ideas for fanfictions. Because this right there? This is what Dobson, as the creator of the story, should truly come up with. The “meat” on the bone” so to speak. The thing separating his work from the rest.

The reason I say that, is the following: To me, every story is build on the following “pillars”: Premise, (basic) World Building, character, progression.

Premise being what the story is about, summed up in like one or two sentences. Character defining who the main leads are and what basic personality traits and goal define them, world building determining e.g. in what time period the plot is set, important locations and so on, while progression shows us where the plot is heading post the initial starting point. These pillars also work in a constant tandem with each other, meaning e.g. that with the plot progression, characters can change in personality, that the world building and premise becomes more complex etc.

And the thing is, based on this post alone, I have no idea what it is Dobson wants to sell to us. He doesn’t give us a name for a lead character, he doesn’t give us a basic premise and the fact he hasn’t thought even the most basic idea for villains and weapons makes it more than obvious, that he has no “world building” ideas either. His “pitch” for a story is less than a note made on a napkin.

See, you can love or hate Sailor Moon and Ladybug as much as you want (I know I have not really a positive opinion on the later) but even if they’ve made shit up along the way, they knew what they were or are going for.

With Sailor Moon e.g. it is easily established, that the main character named Usagi is a clumsy, rather whinny school girl living in Tokyo, who has the power to turn into Sailor Moon, a guardian of the light who has to save earth from Queen Beryl of the Dark Kingdom. The idea of her fellow senshis having powers mostly based around elements, while being named after planets of our solar system is also established quickly as a theme, as is e.g. that the villains are named after minerals. And no, I am not making a Steven Universe joke now.

Action to save the world against the power of darkness by trusting in your friends.... Meanwhile for Ladybug, the story is set in Paris conflict is centered around Ladybug and CatNoir fighting Hawkmoth, who wants their Miraculouses to change reality with a wish. The respective powers of the heroes and villains are established quickly, as is the main “civilian” conflict of Marinette having a crush on Adrien, both not knowing that the other is part of the hero theme. All while the “action” is centered on Hawkmoth creating new monsters of the week by corrupting civilians, who need to be freed of an Akuma, while in Sailor Moon the monsters were either already existing demonic minions of the bad guy, artificially created via objects or civilians who had been corrupted without the villain having to monologue first or waiting for them to be in a bad mood.

...vs romance. Though to be fair, the movie does a way better job at making me care for these two thirsty preteens than five seasons of Thomas Astruc's thing

But Dobson’s post… it lacks everything hinting on him having even a broad idea of what he wants to do.

Just to dissect the post even further:

First paragraph, Dobson says he wants to make a short magical girl series. Define short. The average Pretty Cure season needs around 52 episodes to wrap up its plot, Magica Madoka did the same in 12 episodes and one movie (edit: I know it was thre movies, but two of them are just compilation movies, so that doesn’t count much in my opinion). Sailor Moon’s first major story arc in anime consisted of 41 episodes, Miraculous meanwhile needed over 130 episodes and two specials to finally wrap up the abysmal Hawkmoth “arc”.

Already, if you don’t want to overwork yourself with the idea, you are better off actually setting up parameters yourself, instead of asking others what they think you should do. Not to forget, up until that point in time, Dobson had not really created much for years. SYAC comics aside, he was only doing work on rather awkward Ladybug fan comics and worked in “secret” on Cabin’s Rest. So the expectations he could even do with that idea was lower than his Patreon income. And to be frank, even “short” magical girl stories I know like Kamikaze Kaito Jeanne or Card Captor Sakura needed around 7-12 volumes of like 200+ pages per volume to wrap their stories up. Dobson meanwhile had not once in his life published even a third volume to any of his stuff.

Second paragraph, essentially asking for others to come up with the ideas. I mean sure, he rather asks for average trope a reader wants to see instead of others to automatically give him all the character designs etc. But it is still a bad move.

As stated earlier, there are different camps of magical girl series, so it can be already hard to define what counts as “average”. I mean, it all depends on how far the creator, rather than the audience wants to go. Magica Madoka is a completely different Behemoth than Sailor Moon, and Sailor Moon itself, despite its own repetative elements was still darker than lets say Ladybug is. I mean, at least Sailor Moon did not romanticize abusive parents and characters, the main lead was not a crepy stalker and characters could die in it.

Third paragraph, as stated further above, confirming he has no idea what to even go for. Cause if he had even the slightest idea, he may already have in mind something for the villains and heroes, that would fit in the “mood” of the story he wants to tell.

Fuck me, he can’t even think of basic powers. Like okay, don’t just outright look at Ladybug and copy the powersets there. But come on. Just open up a Pokemon gaming guide while blindfolded, put your finger on any random page describing a move and then make that move a superpower. All you have to do then is think of a scenario in which whatever power it is, even if it is otherwise a sucker, would work. Even if it is just for the sake of comedic effect. 

Like honestly, some idea I have: How about a team of magical girls that have powers correlating to figures of Greek mythology. Give one the ability to foresee the future like the great Cassandra, give one character the powers of Demeter, meaning she can summon plants, another one is a great Hunter like Artemis, one is a wise leader who can up with great strategies like Athena…

Dang, I think I just came up with way more of an “original” idea than Dobson.

And let’s be real here: Thinking up basic shit is at times not that hard. It is finetuning those ideas, that is.

How can anyone working in the creative fields, a person who actually went to college to study animation and how to draw comic, have failed to catch up on such basic concepts behind storytelling? I know kindergarden kids who are able to catch up on it, just by having watched more than one cartoon over their young life.

Then again, THIS right here is the advice he has given once in term of how to "write" a story.

Terry Pratchett's ghost: What a wanker!

And finally, anything and all suggestions are welcome? Yeah, I press X for doubt here.

After all, Dobson was never really what I would consider the most open person to anything that was not really within his comfort zone. So I think that if anyone had for example suggested him to create a gay male character as a villain or supporting character or that he should have taken a page from something like the Magical Girl Raising Project, he would have likely just blocked that person and thrown a fit about how people have corrupted something as pure and innocent as the magical girl genre.

In doing so ignoring, that he had done the same with his rather creepy Ladybug fancomics

You know... for KIDS!

In addition to that, there is also to be considered, that if he had listened to too many ideas and suggestions, he would have been unable to really create something decent anyway. You know, too many cooks, throwing in everything and the kitchen sink… that sort of logic.

But let us be real here: This “thing” whatever it was supposed to be in Dobson’s head, was never going to materialize anyway. After all, when was the last time up till then, that Dobson actually bothered to create something “new” all by himself, instead of simply doing a fan comic or using SYAC as platform to whine how bad nerds are? Plus, considering the timeframe he started to post it (around the same time he started making Ladybug comic strips that got popular on tumblr and instagramm, though at times not by his own doing), it is obvious he only tried to jump on the bandwagon that was Miraculous Ladybug. His “favorite” little cartoon at the time, that ironically has earned a lot of criticism over the recent years, to the point people reevaluate how good of a magical girl show it really is compared to either the classics or new stuff coming out.

The bottom line is, Dobson tried to generate some sort of hype for something he wanted to do, without even having a basic idea of what it was supposed to be, that he wanted to create. And in posting this, the only thing he really did was show to the rest of the world, that as a cartoonist, he didn’t even grasp something so basic, My little Pony: Friendship is Magic and the Owl House actually got it.

Kneel before your queens!

Well, that is a lot. However, I do not want to end just on a “bitter” note with this entry. Instead, I want to ask some of you, to prove to me that you may be a little more imaginative than Dobson, by perhaps posting to me some ideas you may have for a magical girl inspired story or character. Not even something too complicated, just whatever you think would be fun, dark, interesting and so on. I promise, I am not going to steal your ideas for my own gain. All I want to see, is if the rest of the world there has a few more ideas, than a professional cartoonist.

And in turn, I think I will try and flesh my own “pitch” from a few paragraphes above out a bit, if you like.

[shkika]

even though the og idea was for them to be traveling alone in their own separate au's, the thought of the iterator scugs all traveling together is just so funny because of the extaordinary circumstances. like...the solution is supposed to be completely random, right? one in an infinite number of possibilities type shit. practically impossible to find.

then seven of them find it by pure chance, ascend, and ALL of them manage to claw their way out of the void. absolutely wild. i wonder if they would even be aware of each other other's previous identities because they're completely different people now and like, what are the chances? unless they can just tell because of echo shenanigans lol.

(sorry if this is long! your interpretation of saint and these scugs live rent free in my head because the concept is just so cool!)

The intetion was that yeah, becauss the solution is basically impossibly hard to find! And also the process of clawing your way out in general is quite specific to Sliver for reasons and so is the way she deals with the situation.

But I find the au incredibly fun so screw logic! Fun is what writing and characters are all about. Yeah let’s have them all together! Insane chances! I think it provides a really interesting and wacky scenario.

I don’t think they’d recognize each other at first, but it wouldn’t take too long to realize something is off with how intelligent/different they act. And I think especially Martyr and Prodigy would reunite first. Those siblings have something special about them and I think they’d be a travelling pair first. And perhaps they’d stumble on everyone else together until the entire local group + Saint end up together.

They’d have a very sweet dynamic in my head. Like old friends that haven’t had the time to talk in a long time. They’ve been alone for so long and now as a group they’re no longer lonely and abandoned.

[hplovecraftmuseum]

Through the Gates of the Silver Key was one of the most complex and intricately composed of all of Lovecraft's fictional creations. The idea for the story was pushed on Lovecraft by fellow writer and friend E. Hoffmann Price. Price had always been enthused with Lovecraft's story THE SILVER KEY and wanted HPL to write a sequel to it. Lovecraft was not anxious to comply. His fictional alter-ego character, Randolph Carter, hero of several previous "Dreamland" tales was basically a completed concept for Lovecraft. Carter was featured in HPL's more fanciful and less horrific tales. These stories, particularly THE DREAM QUEST OF UNKNOWN KADATH, were written by Lovecraft in his somewhat derivative 'Dunsanian Style'. By that of course we are talking about the style of the great fantasy writer, Lord Dundany of Great Britain. Though Dunsany and Poe were the greatest influences on Lovecraft's fiction, he was hoping to move into a harder, more serious, and more purely horrific mode when THE SILVER KEY and 'DREAM QUEST' were completed. Still, Price badgered Lovecraft to create a sequel that would more definitely resolve the Randolph Carter character's fate. Lovecraft put the project off for as long as he could. Price sent him a rough outline of his own idea for the story. I read this rough draft at the John Hay Library in Providence years ago. And when I say it was 'rough' it's an understatement! Lovecraft changed all but 50 words of the Price outline. Despite his dissatisfaction with the project from the beginning, HPL went on to create one of the most complex and esoteric tales of his whole creative life. THROUGH THE GATES OF THE SILVER KEY has probably been overlooked because of its very complexity. Lovecraft pretty much abandoned his Dunsanian style for the tale and instead delves into all manner of Far Eastern and Theosophist ideas throwing in reincarnation, astral projection, cosmic Archetypes, and esoteric Buddhism, to boot. Even his own YOG-SOTHOTH makes a reimagined appearance as a sort of ultimate cosmic brain in which all creative minds in the universe are tiny cells. Yeah, it gets wild! A difficult read for anybody, THROUGH THE GATES OF THE SILVER KEY will probably never be anyone's favorite among Lovecraft's tales. Lovecraft himself was unhappy with the finished product, and when Price tried to encourage HPL to write a sequel to this sequel, Lovecraft begged out of the idea. Now though Randolph Carter is generally thought to be an obvious alter ego for Lovecraft another character in Through the Gates of the Silver Key is introduced that fits the bill as well. This man, Mr. Ward Phillips, is a "mystic" from Providence, RI who was also a friend of Randolph Carter - Carter is from Boston Mass. At one point Lovecraft writes: "As de Marigny paused, old Mr. Phillips spoke in a hash, shrill voice." Now Lovecraft himself was known for his high- pitched, almost falsetto tone of speech. Lovecraft made a wax recording of his own voice at one point and was so disdainful of the playback that the wax recording was "accidentally" dropped. The device shattered into pieces! (Exhibit 578)

[dicebound]

RPG Spotlight

✨ A game I wish more people were talking about.

Free From the Yoke Is a Slavic Fantasy TTRPG by UFO Press based on their other game, Legacy: Life Among the Ruins 2nd Edition. The players takes on roles of Houses as well as Characters in that house, dealing with the aftermath of a revolution in which they regained their independence from the Empire. I recently purchased this game and have been diving deep into its rule book and I am terribly impressed with it. It seems like the most comprehensive system for collaboratively building a world with your players and playing both the small and big players in its political sphere. It only has one actually play series and a single review on Youtube. I need more people to know this game! 🌱 An unreleased game I’m looking forward to. I recently backed Dolmenwood by Necrotic Gnome on Kickstarter after seeing it talked about here on Tumblr and covered by QuestingBeast on his Youtube Channel. It's a beautiful OSR Style Fairy Tale RPG inspired by Celtic and Irish Folklore. The artwork is absolutely stunning and the setting has been lovely crafted for over 10 years. Its got highly detailed, useful information to run a game in its world and I literally cannot wait to get my hands on the full version. You can get the free Quick Start here. 🌠 A game with a mechanic I love. I recently got ahold of Household by Two Little Mice when it was on sale on DrivethruRPG and I have been engrossed in reading the books cover to cover. I've already covered it on this blog, but it's basically a High Fantasy Setting about little fairies living in an abandoned house complete with tiny cities, saddle mice, and spider hunters. After reading the Core Rulebook, I discovered a quite lovely aspect of their Aces mechanic. Aces are metacurrency players get and their tied to the four suites (Hearts, Diamonds, Spades, Clubs) as well as a Joker. The Aces can be spent to do things like get an additional die to your dice pool for a check, remove a condition, get a another use out of a once-per-session move etc. The Joker is all that and more with one aspect I found very fascinating. It can be spent by another player to prevent someone else's character from Bowing Out. Bowing Out removes a character from the story for a while and can be as serious as dying depending on the fiction. The Idea of a Meta Currency used to prevent character "death" that can only be used for others was really fascinating to me and I'm looking forward to seeing it in play.

You can get the pay-what-you-want Quick Start rules here. 📖 My favorite class or playbook from a game. We played Dungeon Crawl Classics by Goodman Games for the first time a while back, using the critically acclaimed Sailors on the Starless Sea adventure. It was my first time encountering the concept of the 0th-level funnel, in which you each player controls 3 or even 4 no-class no-powers peasants, such as farmers, chicken chasers, and cheese makers, and tries to take their 1st level in adventurer without dying. We had 15 characters overall and lost all but 3 of them by the end and it was a BLAST. So, I'm gonna say 0th Level Classless is my favorite class from a game and I'd like to see more system implement this. I was begging to play more DCC by the end. Free Quick Start Rules here. 🌺 A game with stunning layout or visual design. Frontier Scum by Games Omnivorous is the first thing that came to mind. It was the 2023 Silver Ennie Winner for Best Layout & Design and it absolutely deserved it. Frontier Scum is an Acid Punk Weird West Rules-Light Western TTRPG inspired by Mork Borg. It is an absolute blast to play with wild and weird characters but the book's layout is absolutely stunning. It really looks like a diegetic chapbook from the setting complete with odd ads and interesting locals laid out in a similar fashion to an old-timey newspaper. It is an overall treat to look at.

💡 A game that inspired my own creative process. I tend not to play an RPG if it doesn't creatively inspire me, but I'm going to call out Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay 4th Edition by Cubicle 7 as it is the system my group is currently playing as we work through the Evil Within Campaign. Starter Set Here. I was very inspired by this game's "Class" system, in which you're very likely to start off as a Rat Catcher or a Servant but slowly work you way into being a Knight of the White Wolf or a Duelist. It feels like the best of both worlds between classes as jobs and classes as feature grab-bags. I desperately want to see this type of profession system implemented into an more OSR style game or a PbtA Game, or even base DnD, the longshot that it may be. It inspired me to start conceiving how I might make such a thing a reality and really consider which games I plan to run might benefit from said system.

🔥 A game designer whose whole design corpus I admire.

City of Mist by Son of Oak Games is just an all around impressively design game and piece of narrative fiction. The core idea is that all the players are living in a world covered by the mist, which obscures the supernatural happenings of the world. Additionally, they're all vessels for legendary stories and powers, walking around and influence by the tales. We're talking a journalist rift of Don Quixote, a guttersnipe rift of Little Red Riding Hood, a Mob Boss rift of Hades, etc. Their Theme Book, Logos vs Mythos, and Power Tags system is so versatile that you could build literally anything with it and get a mechanically balanced, narrative focused and interesting character. It can be a bit difficult to get your head around it at first, but once you do you'll likely find City of Mist as revelatory as I did. Free Quick Start Rules Here. 🔮 One of my favorite memories playing a game.

After a decade of playing all sorts of TTRPGs its so hard to call out a single memory. I'll call out a more recently one, that occurred Chaosium's Call of Cthulhu 7e system in which we played the one-shot adventure the Lightless Beacon. Quick Start Rules Here.

My Character was Horse Driver and Trick Shooter by Trade in an Wild West Show (look it up, it's a real thing). She was also a Catholic. Myself and another PC were being chased by fish men after they'd swarmed and killed our other companion. We had no way off the island, but saw a boat in the distance rowing towards us. When we signaled for help, it was then that it tried to turn around. I was very nervous about shooting an innocent person and it was only after my GM assured me that the rower was also a fishman that I proclaimed, in character, "Wait, You aren't made in the image of God!" and shot the fishman dead where he sat. We all broke out in raucous laughter and we still quote the phrase from time to time.

[macaroni-rascal]

Hey it is I, your fashionista nonny of yore, I'm still around and kicking, I just had some life stuff happen (my dad somehow fell down at the cottage, broke his hip and needed surgery, and he's not even an elegant pair girl with full turnout, so, like... the audacity!? Anyway, he's on the mend). It was probably for the best that I couldn't be on here after NHK because I swear to fucking god... I literally couldn't watch the other disciplines until quite a bit later, I was so angry. It was basically confirmation for me that P/C are coming back, because why else would MF be hustling so hard to get this team medals now? Because she knows it'll be impossible later, and P/C is literally the team that made her the political force she is today, so... My condolences to the Italians and whichever hapless Montreal teams suffer the wrath of vindictive panels at upcoming events. I can already tell the GPF placements are gonna be a shitshow.

I've been watching shit here and there, including this Bosphorus Cup aka the longest event of my life but hey - at least we got a free stream, and I felt the need to shout out that one team with the full frizzy hair and the jean jacket over the sparkly red dress on the girl for a Tina program and the guy in a Canadian tuxedo, A+ packaging while still presumably on a budget, I wish other teams would take a page out of their book, these kids understood the assignment! On the flip side, as much as I feel for them, I wish S/F would see the writing on the wall and spare themselves the heartache, they came all the way out here just to not get minimums and their new fed apparently doesn't even have the budget to send a coach out with them, so what's the point? Both Firus brothers married up, isn't that enough? So what if one of them doesn't make it to the Olympics? Judges from other small feds will kill them to prop up their own teams just because there are limited spots for Milan, this switch isn't the magic bullet they've been hoping for. (Also word on the street is Ted and Mama Firus can't stand each other, so that may have influenced their decision as well).

Also at the NRW Trophy there was a Hungarian team with a Depeche Mode FD that was an absolute mood and while the concept perhaps was not executed to its utmost potential, it had this cape-y dress that gave off such witchy vibes and the girl had a Glenn Close-ness about her that was just fabulous, highly recommend. I haven't watched the Challenge FDs yet but the persistent underscoring of Paul Mac's technically superior teams is infuriating. If Skate Canada knew what's good for them, they'd be pushing Korneva/MacDonald for the junior title now with Lewis/McMillan out, not Random Burnaby Team #154 that won't go anywhere, but they've been making some truly boneheaded decisions or none at all lately, so I've abandoned all hope. They're sleepwalking into an ice dance drought post-2030 and they'll depend on importing teams, it feels like, and it won't be just because of kids quitting because of the economy. Kieran has some of the crispest, most textbook turns out there, and it's so cute that he's being coached by his sister, she's done a phenomenal job. The best moment was when Ted and B/B realized the mics weren't on and then afterwards the auto-subs transcribed Nadiia as Daddy, 11/10 Skate Canada stream fail moment, no notes. Anyway, rant over, hope you're doing well and I'm glad you're being wooed by your boo so delightfully, they seem to be a gem! 💗

FASIONISTA NONNY! So good to hear from you!

I'm sorry to hear about your dad. (Wild he chose not to at least try for a triple throw...) I hope he's doing well. I'm sending you and your dad some warm fuzzies!

NHK was a time and a half, that's for sure. I've repressed some of it, so who really even knows what happened? P/C were also seen in a video training with the French ballet, so that's another good?bad? sign that they will be returning. Le sigh. I'm gonna repress this too. What were we talking about?

As for the Bosphorous Cup, love a commitment to a theme, and I'm biased, but also love a Canadian tuxedo. S/F is just...so....I actually just sat here with my hand over my face shaking my head for about 20 seconds. That's what they are. If they can make it to the Olympics and live their dream, all the power to them, and if they don't...woof.

I didn't even know there was another competition happening, Fashionista Nonny, you give me all the good deets! Glenn Close-skater girl sounds very iconic, love her already. I have no confidence in Skate Canada, and I never did. If I ever see Mike Slipchuck in a dark alley, he better run.

Also, thank you! My partner is a freaking sweetheart and I adore them a lot.

All the best to you and yours, Fashionista Nonny! Your message was a wonderful treat, as always.

[punslingingslasher]

Tokyo Debunker AU

Mun will admit this was one of the possibilities that spurred the creation of the blog in the first place. (As well as loving playing him in the game, of course.)

Surprisingly little needed to be adjusted for this AU.

Sho Minazuki was part of an experiment run by a scientist working for the Anomalous Institute, trying to figure out how to basically manufacture ghouls in an effort to effectively create their own superpowered army to deal with anomalies. The test subjects ranged in age from 6 to 17 at the time, with tiny orphan Sho as one the youngest of the whole group.

But effectively children were exposed to demon summonings, and a number of them didn't survive or never developed into ghouls as a result of the experiments. Sho survived but he became....strange, and didn't seem to express any sort of stigma. He was the closest they had to a success but he didn't seem to be a ghoul either.

Or they assumed.

He was shoved into the back of the lab, either neglected or mistreated and ignored by the scientist even as he attempted to put up a cover for his projects. He'd neglected to mention to the Institute the age range of his test subjects, after all. The lab lay abandoned, Sho neglected and left alone with his thoughts and his rage....

but not really. The scientist in question died during the Clash and the Institute uncovered his lab where they found a teenager with glowing eyes. The boy is definitely a ghoul, and he bore the tattoos and ID tags of one of the experiments.

"Sho...Minazuki?" "Are you here to harm this boy? If you are, I'll cut you down without a second thought, just as I did the others."

He spent almost a year in holding at the Institute but being in holding hasn't suited him. After much negotiation he has been released to the custody of Darkwick under conditional limitations regarding his class schedule and availability as a field agent, so to speak.

Darkwick ID!

Sho Minazuki Year: 1st (Honorary) House: Vagastrom Status: Ghoul Stigma: Eris Artifact: Twin Blade of Hubris

-Student is to be considered dangerous, as he is unaccustomed to social interaction and prone to violent outbursts. He is primarily kept sedated by "The Other Guy" and appreciates physical activities, especially fighting, the most. Keep busy with physical labor. Emotional strength is weak. Loves bad puns.

-Blades are capable of causing incredible harm but only if both parties agree to it. Otherwise it will only cause as much harm as is expected. (Choosing to disbelieve in the damage will negate physical damage but not pain.)

-Stigma seems to....swap to "The Other Guy"? Staff is uncertain but it does not lend student any extra abilities of his own.

Minazuki Sho Year: 1st (wait what) House: Vagastrom (who is this card for) Status: Ghoul Stigma: Basoro Artifact: Twin Blades of Hubris

-The Other Guy is the only thing the student refers to this personality as. He is calm, cold, and precision based where Sho is wild and impulsive. He claims his only goal is to protect "that boy". Very disconnected from humanity, focused only on his stated goal.

-Stigma seems to paralyze anyone he can make eye contact with. Effects last until he swaps away back to Sho, or until it is no longer possible to make eye contact.

Staff is uncertain as to how The Other Guy became a ghoul in his own right if becoming a ghoul created him in the first place. He will not provide any answers and Sho Minazuki doesn't seem to understand the concept at all.

He has been placed in Vagastrom with full access to exercise equipment and The Pit to keep this student occupied. His class schedule is full, given as he does not seem to have been properly educated during his time at the abandoned facility. The Institute has tried to fill in the basics of his education and he has taken to the information well...he just doesn't seem to care about any of it. He would like to find his "father" and the Institute is still uncertain how to broach the subject of the man's death with Minazuki.

[soyales]

i have no defence for this, my opinions came rushing out, please ignore thanks byeee

ok so i get that madoka magica is like peak anime, an eternal work of art and trancendent divine tragic yuri, but like i wanna yap about the amazingness of orpheus and eurydice’s tragedy.

so orpheus and eurydice’s story comes from thousands of years of cobbled together bits and pieces from oral tradition right? its not really a medium that lends itself to continuity and meaningful foreshadowing, symbolism and the like. its honestly probably that ancient poets just thought, “i think this is how it went? whatever story some old guy told me twenty years ago probably did this right?” and just went full send on whatever the hell they felt like talking about, superimposing their own interpretations and perspectives onto this fable. ALSO THE GREEK MYTH HAS ITS OLDEST SOURCE FROM ANCIENT ROME, THATS *CENTURIES* AFTER ITS SETTING. theres no way any modern depiction in any way can stay “accurate” or “faithful” to its original form, our “original” is already a re-telling thats basically fanfic at that point. it has three (3) total story beats, eurydice dies, orpheus goes to the underworld, orpheus fails. its not so much about the story, i think, more of the message it sends about the finality of death and futility of humanity in the face of death, which I would argue is like the crux of most tragedies. it always ends in death, and the tragedy of their love centres around death, and their inability to escape it. i think it is more of a relatable tragedy to us non-magical girls turned immortal divinity, even though absolutely none of this shit is literally realistic to anyone outside a fictional world, its an analogy, of the suffering caused from the death/abandonment of loved ones. they don’t really need further depth into their characters nor relationship, i think it exists nicely as an ideal or concept, to be doven into by anyone.

i can’t say much about madohomu because its been a while since i had last seen it, but from what i remember it gets kinda insane with the lore and yeah i remember it being an amazing experience with brilliant writing, but i don’t want to say definitively that its a better story. it is, but like i dont want to admit it ok?? its a single story of a single writer’s mind, while my classical greek otp is a mishmash of thousands of years of artists of all kinds.

even with the messiness of mythos and the simplicity at its core, orpheus and eurydice have many different versions of their tale over time, a real life history that madohomu just dont have, and i think it sort of makes up for the less stable premise. it has just a richer history that i think is really interesting, weaving in the history of each storyteller in each rendition.

take hadestown the featured pic, it plays real fast and loose with the commonly accepted lore of the myth — the song he sings is different, the setting changes from the golden age of heroes in the hellenistic area to some sort of western railroad wild west-ish place, eurydice isnt a nymph, the satyrs arn’t there, etc. — but it still runs through the same simple story beats. it is different to ovid’s metamorphoses’ depiction of them, where they seem to focus more on the “no matter what you can’t escape death”, whereas hadestown seems to say more that “no matter what you can’t escape capitalism” (i know im grossly generalising it, shush.) all this to say its a different take, made by different people, and my own take in my mind is also different to all of yours as much as yours are different to all others, even if it is only in the most minute way. theres no right answer with these old ass myths, while there can be a slight directive with something more modern and crafted as pmmm.

theres just something super tragic about the fact that no matter how many renditions and versions orpheus and eurydice’s story goes through, all of them end up with the two being separated. their most remembered story beat is that orpheus fails her, and they don’t manage to live happily ever after, which is a special sort of tragic at least to me. also im defending orpheus now. i swear he’s not an absolute loser failure ok??? hes somewhat functional, but less so without eurydice. he’s literally walking out of the underworld, escaping death. at his point in time, NO ONE HAS DONE THAT BEFORE (no one still has, but i digress). the sheer stress of that compounded with the fact that he’s dealing with gods — who in ancient greece are famously known to not want to benefit mortals like he — would make anyone in his position weak. its a little mistake, that unfortunately has grave consequences attached. how easy is it to hear a sound behind you and instinctively look and check? with the knowledge that your love of your life may or may not be behind you no less. he was just about leaving the underworld, the sight of the sky ahead of him, what if he thought they had already succeeded? a small misconception, a tiny movement of the head, just a small turn of his eyes and everything crumbles before him? its his fault, and he knows it best. but also i can’t judge him for that, he does way better than i think most people would do in that situation. most people wouldn’t have even stepped foot beyond the acheron and he went fully in and out without killing himself (entirely).

alright thanks if you read all of that, i can’t even read that and its only been 5 seconds since I typed the last sentence. 14 seconds now <333

anyways madohomu supremacy lets goooo tragic yuri wins <33333

Tragic Ships Tournament: FINAL ROUND

Propaganda under the cut!

Orphydice:

"y'all probably know the story of orpheus and eurydice. but they are SO tragedy. they are TEXTBOOK tragedy. they redefined the genre. on their literal wedding day as she's walking down the aisle eurydice gets bit by a snake and dies. orpheus loves her so much he goes down to the underworld to try and save her. hades allows him to take her back to the land of the living, as long as she walks behind him, and he cannot look back, otherwise her soul will be taken. he's mostly fine , but begins to doubt and at the very end of the tunnel, he looks back. they lock eyes for a moment before she disappears back into hell. orpheus is then so distraught that he wanders the earth singing mournful melodies and gets stoned to death by some nymphs who think his sad songs are bumming them out. DUUUUDE their story consumed my every waking thought as a child."

Madohomu:

"madoka magica aired 12 episodes in 2011, with a sequel movie titled “rebellion” released in 2014. it’s been over 10 years since then, and these two have become the face of yuri. if someone makes a meme about loving yuri and makes a collage of example ships, madohomu are 100% gonna be present. video essays, fanart, fics, music videos and all kinds of fan projects featuring them are still wildly popular on all social media platforms.

but let’s talk about them (without going into too many spoilers, so this will be about the thematics in their relationship). they are light and darkness. the ying and the yang. forever intertwined. one would not exist without the other, yet they cannot exist together. for madoka has too much love for every living thing and too little for herself. and homura has too much love for madoka it blinds her to everything and everyone else, and she struggles with deep self-hatred. madoka has forsaken her own existence for the world, and homura has forsaken the world she created for her. the show has a lot of religious imagery, and madoka is akin to a god; there’s a shot of homura, who grew up catholic, kneeling at the feet of a gigantic statue of madoka, praying, but her hands stain her clothes. because if madoka is god, then homura is lucifer - specifically, iblis, the muslim version of lucifer, who loved god so much he betrayed him, for he’d rather defy him than bow to his creation, humans. and homura would rather defy the sanctity of madoka’s wish, rather than obey its laws, for she will take madoka’s happiness in her hands, if she refuses to. in the movie, dolls representing homura’s inner machinations yell, “gott ist tot”, for homura’s god, madoka, dies in the movie, when homura remembers that madoka was human first, and godhood was something she reached to save everyone, against her best interest and happiness. their relationship is one of love, kindness, obsession, devotion, hope, faith, worship - they are the thesis and the antithesis, the beginning and the end, the alpha and omega, an unstoppable force and an immovable object. forever locked in a struggle, never fully embracing, for madoka will always sacrifice herself for the world, and homura will always doom the world and herself for madoka."

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

Did you have a backstory on why Wish was pretending in the first place? Like was it a case of them having amnesia and going idk what's happening so I'm going to just blend in and hope for the best, or was it something else? Did Laventon know they weren't human, since he's the one who found them? I have so many questions, this concept is very cool

so this was my first and almost entirely blind playthrough (as in, i didn't know anything abt the game going in besides the stuff had been officially published ahead of time) so there wasn't like a super clear idea at the start of wish's situation since i. literally didn't know enough about the game world to make it super involved. but the idea was always that due to Circumstances, including getting abandoned by/cast out of their pack, they couldn't survive in the wild, and had decided to hide in jubilife as a human instead. when laventon found them, they were already in disguise, so he had no idea.

going back now though i think maybe the thing i would make it is that they got trapped in a space-time distortion, like one of the little ones you find ingame, and that's how they got yoinked to prelude beach, where they just panic disguised as a human to avoid getting immediately attacked. that, OR, since prelude beach is sort of famous in jubilife for being very safe and pokemon-free, they ended up in the fieldlands via distortion but then ran to the beach to hide from other pokemon. and they always lived in one of the coldest and most remote places in the icelands, so they really had no idea how to navigate the rest of hisui, in addition to knowing only the very haziest basics about the humans of the region, or sinnoh, or the rift, etc etc. i think they were already sort of on their own before that tho, bc like i said earlier, abandonment issues.

tho laventon didn't know exactly that they were a zorua, wish was always regarded as being very weird. they had white hair and gold eyes, basically never took off their mask, and were also mute and mostly communicated via nods/headshakes (zorua illusions are never very good at speaking, and wish doesn't really know how.) plus being very shy around new people, and weirdly good with and fearless of pokemon (being able to communicate with them, and having a team for backup in case of negotiations going south helps with a lot with confidence.) so it is maybe not surprising they garnered some suspicion.

[lepurcinus]

More about ideas for society or "culture" in xenofiction.

Cultural differences between domestic, feral and wild.

Ok, it's very common and more so in stories involving the escaped pet who meets the wild ones that the classic comments of "Useless pet dependent on humans knows nothing about life" are made many times related to pet stereotypes (and also demonizing captivity or the relationship of owners and pets, mostly when they are cats) or that when it meets a wild animal then they explains the law of mother nature or the philosophy of the jungle or something like that. But I feel that there is still a lot of unexplored ground in this concept.

Let's say if I do a story about pet dogs, stray/feral dogs and maybe some wolves. You have that pet dogs probably don't for the most part have a very complex society or religion amongst themselves due to the greater habit of interacting with their owners and the occasional neighbor dog.

Maybe dogs from shelters, kennels, police dogs or similar may share among themselves their own philosophies or further expand their pantheon of gods, maybe each breed may have among themselves their idea of why they exist if they have snub noses, long hair, slimmer bodies, etc.

But then for the most part they share the basic concept of the story of the great dog god of the stars who made all the animals and brought man to the dog to protect him from loneliness and united them forever.

Then when we talk about stray and feral dogs, then that "belief" can be maintained but with slight deformations or differences (or have your nihilistic atheist dog who lost hope, I don't know). Let's say then that in this world abandoned dogs living on the streets then think that the promise of the star dog god was broken, maybe by himself or the dog as an individual has done something wrong, then that is why these still seek to approach people and seek to "redeem" their failure. But feral dogs, having lived in generations without that contact then now their belief is that that union was betrayed and broken, hence their greater refusal to seek human affection, but still in force that little joke of an opportunity to regain it.

So if there are then wolves in the formula, they may have their star god but it may not be exactly the same as the dogs. And their view of man be more like seeing their arrival, how take everything to their children and created a warped version of them that is against them. There would also be feral dogs more accustomed to "wild" life whose belief is more wolf-like than dog-like.

Other things, enter in the cultural difference already related to the behavioral change derived from domestication. Dogs do not have the familiar pack concept of the wolf completely and their gestures are not the same or communicate the same. If we then handle a story in which the animals have their own language, then dogs do not know the language of the wolf and these in turn have developed their own language with its variants.

With other animals it would work similarly, cats that have learned to tolerate each other more, domestic rabbits that have forgotten the concept of the communal warren or to live with fear and cunning. Etc.

Other things would also result in domestic animals having things borrowed from humans, such as a greater understanding of their gestures, sounds and constructions, some words of their own that are remnants of the sounds of human words.

Perhaps adding that there are "bilingual" domestic animals that, being in contact with other animals, it would be easier for them to understand their gestures and communicate with them.

God gave me the ability to generate spontaneous ideas but the curse of feeling I can't use them well, blame him for that btw.

[changbunnies]

Outlaw (18+)

♡ Pairing: Cowboy/Outlaw!Changbin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: wild west au, cowboy/outlaw au, dubcon, strangers to... something? basically just filth with a little plot thrown in

♡ Word Count: 4.9k

♡ Summary: Y/N, after being displaced from her home due to outlaws, returns a year later in the hopes to reclaim some lost belongings. But the outlaw Changbin, who has claimed her old home for himself, won't let her take her things without getting something in return. edit: this now has a part 2 you can read here! <3

♡ Warnings: strong language, changbin is mean in a way that he disguises as 'nice' ??? very insincere and condescending :'), minor mention of someone being dead, changbin also remains nameless for a bulk of the fic because he is a stranger. that's about it for general warnings since this is mostly smut lmao but let me know if i missed something that should be here!

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): dubcon!! (please read responsibily and with your own discretion for what you can handle!), petnames (sugar, darlin, sweetheart, good girl, he uses "little lady" exactly once, he also calls reader dumb once), manhandling, nipple play, biting/marking, unprotected piv, some slapping and choking, a lil dacryphilia. lmk if i missed anything!

♡ Notes: i originally wasn't going to post something again this soon but i was possesed to write this after repeatedly seeing cowboy concepts from my faves :') as usual, if you're interested you can check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams !

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Get in, grab the stuff you need, and get out before the sun starts to set– that’s all you have to do. You are in the remnants of your childhood home, nestled within the ghost town that is the place you grew up in. Abandoned over a year ago, when a band of cowboys came stirring trouble and driving out the locals with their exuberant drinking and penchant for violence. 

Your parents, the owners of what was once the town’s largest and most successful saloon, had unfortunate run-ins with the vile men on a daily basis, having to turn away regulars for their own safety and clean up the abundant mess left behind from the nightly roughhousing. 

It was with a heavy heart that your family left everything behind, with the hopes they could rebuild somewhere safer, out of the radius of all the outlaws and their gun fights. Your family hasn’t had the easiest go of things since then, having expended nearly all of their tucked away savings in the process of relocating and building a new home and business.

And now here you are, searching your hold home for anything that could help. You’d heard news of dust settling in the area as the infighting between local gangs were dying down, and thought now would be your best chance to return for things that had to be left behind.

You knew there was no physical money to be found, but if you were lucky there could still be trinkets left behind that would fetch a good price. Something that maybe the cowboys wouldn’t recognize as overtly valuable, but would be to a trained eye. 

"Ya lost, sugar?" a gruff voice says from behind, making you nearly jump out of your skin. Shit– how did you not hear him approach? You quickly stand and turn around, the image of a burly man in the doorway, with dark curly hair and equally dark eyes. There was no way this man approached silently– you must have just been too absorbed in your task to pay attention to outward noise.

"Not lost," you say, voice firm now that you are past the initial surprise of being discovered. You are not nearly as alarmed as one might expect you to be; you were born and raised in the saloon, helped your parents keep it running smoothly as a barmaid once you were old enough. You handled your fair share of unruly drunks and trigger happy outlaws, learning from an early age how to get men to abide by your rules. So surely you could handle this man too.

"Sure 'bout that? This ain't the kinda place a little lady like yourself goes wanderin',” the man says, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorframe. Despite the relaxed way he does it, it's clear he doesn't intend on letting you past him. If anything, he almost challenges you to– with a look that says you can certainly try to get past me, but you won’t. 

"This is my house. At least it was, until people like you drove us out," you spit out against your better judgment. You normally know better than to instigate a fight with a lawless man, usually using a disgustingly sweet tone and batting your lashes to get them to listen to you.

You should know to bite down the resentment that runs through you, even if the feeling is justified. But the way that he’s treating your home as his property makes your blood boil. "Just let me get my things, and then I'll never see you again.”

The man hums, as if considering your words, before the corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. "I don't much care about that darlin'. It belongs to me now." The minute townsfolk like you left, this town was up for grabs for anyone who wanted it, and he and his gang gladly claimed it. Whatever you left behind, every little thing no matter how small, it’s all his now– it’s as simple as that. And you can’t take from him without paying a price. 

You glare at him, eyes full of scorn. What pisses you off the most about him is that he knows it’s his fault you lost everything you held dear, and he doesn’t care– he holds it over your head, using your belongings like a bargaining chip.

As if you’re a dog waiting to be fed a treat or a fish on his hook, completely at his mercy, unable to get what you want or need unless he’s kind enough to grant it to you. And you hate that it makes his eyes light up with a twisted delight, the smirk making you want to slap it off his face (though he’d probably just find that amusing too.) 

‘Fucking asshole,’ you think to yourself. What do you do now? Grovel? Does he want you to get on your hands and knees, beg him with a desperate voice and teary eyes? ‘Oh please, mister cowboy sir, please give me my things back!’ As fucking if– you would never do that. The man lets out a laugh, as if he can read your mind and knows exactly what you think of him. 

But the thing is, he does know what you’re thinking, knows that you absolutely hate him right now. He's seen that expression on countless faces before– a fire burning in the eyes, red hot rage burning through your blood. But if there's anything he's good at, one thing he loves doing more than anything else, it's extinguishing the flames of pretty young things like you who think they can talk back to him. 

"If it makes you this upset, you can always take it up with the leader of my gang. He’s the one who ‘forced’ you out, not me," he says, a devilish smirk plastered on his face before he continues, "Oh, but he's 6 feet under now. Guess you're outta luck, huh? You're stuck with me darlin'. So let's figure this out together, hmm?" 

He steps out of the doorway, letting the previously open door slam closed behind him. You want to stand your ground, but unconsciously you take a step back, and then another, and another, until he has you cornered. Back pressed against the wall, his palm planted firmly on the wall next to your head, effectively caging you in. 

His other hand reaches for the bag hanging off your shoulder, full of your old personal effects. Valuable trinkets buried under old journals, black and white family photos and letters penned from distant relatives; all items that scream of sentimentality.

How sweet. It's too bad he's not a nicer person; maybe then he'd let you walk away with all this useless junk that he has no need for. But what would be the fun in that? 

"I can't let you just take what's mine, we both know that wouldn't be right," he says while gripping your bag tightly in his fist, as if he gives a single fuck about what's right or wrong. All this stuff belonged to you before he and his stupid outlaw buddies effectively stole it anyways!

He’s blatantly playing with you, stirring up your emotions just to revel in the reaction it grants him. "Ya gotta pay for it, sweetheart. I know you’re a good girl who knows better than that," he continues, feigning sweetness and care with his tone. 

"I don't have any money to give you," you glare, though the aggression in your eyes doesn’t match the timid way you speak. And that's the crux of why you're here– sure, you've been picking up sentimental items as you move through your old home, but you desperately need money and you came back in the hopes there'd still be something of use to you that hasn't been pilfered yet. 

"Oh, don’t you worry 'bout that. I'm not interested in money darlin'," he says as he tosses your bag to the side, no care at all for any breakables inside. His face moves an inch closer, hand reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He watches with amused delight as the cogs turn in your head, a realization that makes your eyes widen and face flush. 

"Y-You– I–" You hate yourself for stumbling over your words, and giving more entertainment to the man in front of you. You can tell he likes the way you begin to crumble, breaking down your resolve to be resolute bit by bit. His words are accompanied by a mischievous glint in his eye that you would acquaint with playfulness if you weren’t currently being trapped against a wall by an incredibly strong, intimidating man. 

"Don't worry, sugar, I'm not a monster. I won't force you," he smiles, knowing very well what he's doing. He frames it as if it's your choice– as if he can be free of blame if you give in, as if he isn't taking advantage of your desperation to get your things back. He takes a step back, freeing you from your caged position against the wall, giving you the opportunity to flee right this second if you so choose.

But he knows you won’t. Because you’re brave, or maybe just foolishly stubborn, and you refuse to leave without what you came for. The illusion of choice he’s giving you– it’s almost sickening in its cruelty. And that stupid fucking smirk on his face should make you feel disgusted, resentful, furious, but you feel none of those things– you feel… butterflies? 

Fuck. Are you attracted to him? How fucking stupid can you get? To be attracted to a man who has such little regard for other people, who looks at you like a plaything he can discard the moment he’s bored. His words might be framed sweetly, but the message underneath is clear– you are going to give him what he wants. "Well, what do ya say, sweetheart? Wanna have some fun with me?" 

You swallow, looking at him with shaky fists and red cheeks. Are you really going to do this? Give yourself up to a stranger for things that rightfully belong to you in the first place? It goes against everything you stand for, the rational part of your brain screaming at you to just leave. What would your family say if they found out how far you degraded yourself for something so objectively small? 

But fuck it. Against your better judgment, you agree to ‘have some fun�� with the frustratingly attractive outlaw in front of you. The man smirks once more before he grabs your face under the chin with a rough hand, directing your head up towards his, kissing you with a roughness you've never experienced before. 

There’s a noise of surprise that leaves you, the moment happening so fast it makes your head spin. He squeezes your cheeks, forcing your mouth to open for him, his tongue wasting no time on entering. Unconsciously you reach out for him, desperately grasping for something to hold. You're impossibly dizzy from the feeling of his tongue making circles around yours, and you need to ground yourself, doing so by tightly clutching his shirt in your hands. 

His teeth snatch your bottom lip, tugging harshly before soothing the bite with a lick, and repeating. A whimper escapes you, though you can't tell if it's from the sting in his bites or excitement welling in your gut.

You've always been treated delicately by men before now– like you were made from porcelain, like even the smallest of bends could result in a break. And that's what you always thought you liked, so why..? Why is his treatment making your entire body shiver in delight?

He grins when he pulls away, satisfied with the dazed look in your eyes, the swollen red of your lips, the way your breathing has substantially quickened. He wants to ruin you even more– make you delirious with need for him. 

He reaches for the top of your dress now, pulling it down just enough to expose your chest to him. "Pretty," he says with a grin so attractive that it makes your stomach twist. What the fuck is this guy doing to you? You should be ashamed of yourself for finding any semblance of enjoyment from this. 

Rough, calloused hands waste no time groping the newly exposed skin. You suck in a breath, trying desperately not to let out any sounds that would grant him satisfaction. He tuts in disapproval, though he actually loves seeing you try so hard to keep the tough act going– it’s the fight to remain in control that makes it so fun, after all. 

He tweaks your nipples without remorse, pinching and pulling between his fingers, causing a yelp to escape you before you could even hope to stop it. His face lowers, and for a moment you think he’s going to resume the messy, wet kisses, but he doesn’t. Instead, his lips meet your neck, teeth grazing the skin before he decides on a spot to bite down on. 

Over and over, his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your neck, creating a constellation of bruises in their wake. It’s a reminder, you realize– a reminder of what you chose to do with the nameless outlaw, evidence of what you allowed him to do to your body, an imprint of shame and desire that will follow you for the days to come. 

The noises that leave you are his absolute favorite– pretty sounds of pleasure mixed with pain. Your hands have moved from gripping his shirt to his arms, nails breaking the surface of his skin and a pleasant sting accompanying it. He pulls away once satisfied with his work, another pleased, devious grin on his face as he admires what he’s done to your previously unmarred skin. 

He snakes his hand under your dress next, chuckling when he feels the wetness drenching your panties. "I knew I liked you," he says, tone low but smirk ever-present. Pulling away from you, he walks to the nearby sofa and sits comfortably, raising an eyebrow when you just stare instead of following him over. "C’mon over, sugar. Don’t make me wait." 

You step over slowly, doing your best to swallow down your nerves as you reapproach him. He pulls you to his lap when you’re in his reach, not wasting any time in getting you where he wants you. He lifts the bottom of your dress, bunching it up around your hips, exposing you to his view. He takes a moment to admire the way your panties cling to your skin before he swiftly pulls them to the side.

There’s a gasp from you that follows, not just because of the sudden exposure, but the distinct sound of tearing that fills the space. Did he seriously just rip your underwear? “Oops,” he says with absolutely no sincerity in his voice, “what a shame. They were so pretty, too.”

He laughs when you mutter ‘asshole’ under your breath and glare at him, endlessly amused by the way you react to him. There’s part of him that even considers making it up to you later– once he’s done with his own fun, of course. 

He moves his hand to his pants next, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper with ease, pulling his (notably large) cock out so nonchalantly that it nearly leaves you stunned. He watches you, reveling in the way your expression changes, the annoyance you held just moments ago melting into a timid desire. 

You stare at him, shy and apprehensive, but still wanting, craving him. He makes a show out of spreading the accumulated pre-cum along his length, indulging in the way your eyes follow every move his hand makes, as if completely and utterly enraptured by him. And in a way, you are; you’ve never been so captivated by a stranger in your entire life the way you are now, intoxicated by the view of the man pumping his cock in front of you.

"Ride it,” he says when he finishes preparing himself for you, “Show me how desperate you are." His light, almost playful tone frames it as a request, but you can tell it isn’t– he’s telling you to do it. And if there’s anything you’ve learned so far, it’s that you can’t resist him, even if you wanted to; you’re under his charismatic spell, with no hope of escaping.

You take a breath, steadying yourself for what's to come before you travel further up his lap. He brings a hand to the nape of your neck, in a gesture that doesn’t at all help with your nerves. How does his hand on you suddenly feel so heavy? A trembling hand reaches for his cock, lining him up with your hole, but you pause before you lower yourself on it, looking at him with clear apprehension in your eyes. 

He raises his brow when you initially pause, and for a moment you think he’s going to scold you for making him wait, but he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles, expression softening ever so slightly. “You can do it, darlin’. I know you can make it fit,” he leans closer to you as he speaks, his breath fanning your ear as he draws you in by the neck to meet him halfway, “because you’re a good girl who does everything she’s told, aren’t ya?” 

Fuck. If you weren’t positively dripping before, you definitely are now. How does he keep managing to say things that make your stomach twist and a shiver run down your spine? He leans back when you finally begin to sink down on him, hands resting behind his head as he takes in the sight of your scrunched brows and flushed cheeks. 

He's so fucking thick, easily the biggest you've ever taken, but the sting is the most delicious thing you’ve ever felt. Your breathing is ragged by the time you are fully sat on him, your thighs completely flush with his. He allows you a moment of respite, letting you adjust to the feeling of being so full of him, though you aren’t entirely sure you can get used to it. You feel every ridge, every vein, every twitch– so much so, that it makes your entire body tremble. 

And if the outlaw underneath you is being honest, he’s just as equally affected. You’re squeezing him so tight, and if this were any other time he would completely forgo watching you ride him and instead pound straight up into you. But he wants to see how much more obedient you can be, how well you’ll take his orders, how well you’ll listen to him. He wants to see you lose yourself for him, become brainless in the pursuit of pleasure.  

You’re moving again before he even has to tell you to do it, whimpers and moans freely leaving your lips now, much too far gone to care anymore about keeping them held back. The man’s cool exterior cracks for just a moment, head falling back as a low groan escapes his throat. He won’t say it aloud, but you’re driving him crazy– the push and pull he had with you being the most fun he’s had in ages.

"Open your mouth," he commands when he lifts his head back up and you oblige easily, much to the stranger's satisfaction and amusement. Look at you, so full of fight when he first laid eyes on you, now reduced to a cock hungry mess. Listening to him without an ounce of hesitation, completely at his mercy– he loves it. 

He rests two of his fingers on your tongue, letting them linger there for just a moment before he pushes them down your throat. You sputter and gag around them, eyes immediately watering from the intrusion. "You can take it," he tells you when he notices the tears welling in your eyes threatening to fall, "C'mon sweetheart, take what I give you." 

Saliva drips down your chin from the corners of your mouth as he effectively chokes you on his fingers, slapping you on the thigh with his other hand when you show any sign of slowing down. You just barely register his voice praising you in your ears, tears openly falling down your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut, forced to keep up the pace he set for you without faltering. 

He can’t help but let out a groan when he admires the view– you’re so fucking pretty when you’re crying, so breathless and ruined, all for him. He’ll give you a gift, he decides; reward you for playing your part for him so perfectly. He pulls his fingers out from your mouth, but there’s no time for you to catch your breath because he immediately brings them to your swollen clit. 

His touch is both harsh and fast, sparing you no time to allow oxygen into your lungs. A loud moan leaves you, your head falling forward and onto his chest from the combined feeling of his wet fingers on your clit and his cock reaching the deepest parts of you. "F-Fuck, please, please–" You're so close, your entire body tingling with pleasure as the knot in your stomach grows incredibly taut.

"Aww, poor thing," he coos mockingly, another slap landing on your thigh when your pace stutters, "need to cum so bad, don't you? Dumb little thing needs my help?" You nod frantically, watery eyes pleading with him. You don’t know when you became so desperate, but it’s all you can think about now. You want it, need it, more than you’ve ever needed anything. 

"Mm, beg for it," he says, the wicked grin returning in full effect and drives you completely crazy. "If you do a good job, I might help." You whine, pace once again faltering as you’re driven to the brink of release, but not quite reaching it on your own. Your thighs burn from the exertion, knees aching and body impossibly tired. 

And so, you do the one thing you said you would never do– beg for him. “P-Please, please help me, wanna cum so bad,” your voice quivers, and he grins, evidently pleased by the display of desperation. He won’t give it to you that easily, though. Because who would he be if he wasn’t at least a little mean? 

"Oh, you can do better than that, I know ya can. Try again, darlin', show me you mean it," he says, hands grabbing your hips and forcing you still now, unable to do a single thing until you tell him what he wants to hear. He smirks when you let out a frustrated cry, your hips being held firmly in place and unable to seek any sort of stimulation. “Go on, sugar. Tell me how bad you need me.” 

“Please, I’ve been so good, gave you everything you wanted, so please, please, need you so bad, please-” you’re babbling now, words leaving you shamelessly, eyes once again watering as the desperation builds overwhelmingly high. You’re clearly no longer in your right mind, because if you were you would never do this. 

The satisfaction he feels from reducing you to this is indescribable, and he’ll be sure to reward you for indulging him so sweetly. He pulls you off his lap with ease, tossing you to the side of the sofa as if you're nothing but a doll. He grabs your arm after he stands, pulling you up and subsequently bending you over the arm of the sofa as he stands behind you. 

He sinks back inside you easily, hand reaching under you and fingers playing with your clit as he pounds into you from behind. Fuck, fuck, fuck- You're vision blurs, eyes rolling back as white hot pleasure courses through your veins. His other hand holds your hip roughly, his nails digging into your skin, not slowing his pace even as you cum around him.

Your hands claw in vain at the sofa cushions, finding no purchase. Your legs quiver, eyes squeezed shut as your left with no choice to accept the overwhelming pleasure that takes over senses. Reaching his hand to your neck now, he pulls you up to him by the throat, your back now flush against his chest. Your breath hitches when he squeezes, the pressure on your neck alarmingly good. 

"Tell me your name, sugar. Who is being so good for me, hmm? Need to know," his words tickle the shell of your ear, making your brain feel impossibly muddled. It takes you a few tries to get your name out given his unrelentingly fast pace, but you manage to stammer it out for him to hear. 

Your body shudders when he repeats it in your ear, the sound of your name falling from his lips making you clench around him. “Oh, you like that, hmm?” he teases you with a short laugh, though you are too far gone to be embarrassed by it. 

“Y-Yours, want to know yours too,” you manage to say, though it’s practically a beg. For better or worse, you want to put a name to the face of the person that made a mess of you. He hums in response, and you’re not entirely sure he’ll even tell you, but he does. 

Changbin. It sounds vaguely familiar, but your brain doesn’t have the capacity to dwell on it at the moment– not with the way his cock is currently drilling into you. And in the same way that your name leaving him had an affect on you, the opposite does the same for him.

It makes him almost feral– an overwhelming desire to make you forget everything but his name, for nothing to remain in your mind but him. He loses his composure for the first time all evening, driven purely by his need to cum, with you being the sole reason for it. 

He releases his hold on your neck, letting you fall forward against the sofa. Noises no longer leave you, a pleasure so intense that all that escapes you are sharp, quick breaths. “So good, fuck, you’re so good, ‘m gonna cum-” you hear him pant out from behind you, his pace faltering for the first time as he chases his orgasm, his hold on your hips so intense it’s sure to bruise. 

You reach your high first, voice coming out in short, broken moans as your toes curl and body convulses under his hold. He pulls out at the last possible second, his cum spilling between your thighs and dripping between your legs. Your legs collapse when he lets you go, the armrest of the sofa being the only thing keeping you off the floor. You close your eyes, chest heaving as you try to regain control of your harsh breathing. 

Changbin picks you up after tucking his softening length back in his pants, adjusting your position so you are now laying on the sofa properly, back comfortably nestled against the cushions. He lets your legs rest on his lap when he sits down, a subtle grin plastered on his face while he waits for you to finally open your eyes. 

“How ya feelin’, sugar? Did ya have fun?” he asks, a smirk growing on his face to match the cocky tone in his voice. Asshole. He knows what the answer is, and he just wants to hear you admit it.

“I’m not answering that,” you scoff, and he laughs, the amused glint returning to his eyes. Back to the cat and mouse, huh? That’s perfectly fine with him; he’ll play this game with you for as long as you let him. 

Changbin stands now, grabbing the bag he tossed aside earlier from off the floor and returning it to you. If you’re being honest, you’re surprised he’s keeping his word– you hoped he would, of course, but there was no guarantee. “What’s that look for, darlin’? I told you, I’m not a monster,” he says and you roll your eyes. He may not be a monster, as he puts it, but he’s definitely still an arrogant asshole. 

“I’m headin’ up for a bath, but you’re welcome to join me if ya like,” Changbin says, and once again going against your better judgment, you find yourself genuinely considering it. You should definitely leave– get your belongings back to your family, ride far away from him and never look back, and yet.. 

“I want in first,” you say as you stand, leaving your bag behind on the sofa as you walk towards where you know the bathroom to be. “Whatever ya say, darlin’,” he grins as you once again take control back in your own hands; you won’t have it for long, but if he wants the game to be fun, he needs to let the ball be in your court sometimes. 

The game of cat and mouse can’t exist without a little give and take, so for right now, he’ll give; so that when he takes, and takes, and takes, it’ll be that much more enjoyable. Watching as you strip yourself naked to enter the tub, smiling when you fight him on whether or not he should help you wash up and find you new clothes to wear, laughing when you grumble about deciding to stay for the night. Oh, he’s really looking forward to the fun he’ll have with you from now on.