#some texts follow different standards than you think

[hiemaldesirae]

one of the major problems i find with online discourse about antagonistic characters and storylines sourcing from novels is that some people cant see past what is said to what is meant- and that other people can, but in their perception of the implied lore, make overdue assumptions of plot and character.

for example: in svsss, it is heavily implied that qiu jianluo s/a'ed the original shen qingqiu, thus shaping his outlook on society in general: females are safe, males are not. this leads to point against him in the form of his favouritism for ning yingying, the only (afaik) female qing jing disciple and his habit of finding comfort in brothels. this is misconstrued by the original protagonist in the novel pidw, leading to a false misconception held by our protagonist, shen yuan, that shen qingqiu is a lecherous paedophile.

as the reader, there are a number of context clues given to tell us how that is not the case-- mostly found in the extras-- and are meant to challenge the worldview, make us realize that like shen yuan, we as the audience only know as much as the author will tell us. did shen jiu hate luo binghe specifically because his name reminded him of qiu jianluo? was he jealous of the potential luo binghe had? or was he merely looking for a target to take his anger out on?

it is not mentioned, therefore we do not know, and should not make assumptions on the canon behaviour of this character towards someone else.

however, this is often not understood by the overall fandom: either they completely look past the context clues that tell us, this character is more than they seem and instead jump straight to demonization without first considering context and setting, or they overcompensate for someone by making excuses to justify behaviour we do not have explanations for.

this is the reason why we have people who constantly demean and bully others in fandom: they cannot read or think for themselves past what is clearly shown to them and refuse to challenge the idea that the author may be deliberately feeding unreliable information to make a more interesting story, and it doesnt help that there are people attempting to justify behaviour that is specifically written to be bad.

[hbmmaster]

I used to think of braille like it's a digital text encoding scheme (if you know a little bit about how braille works and a lot about how computers store text, it feels "obvious" that braille dot patters are six-bit binary encodings of characters) but the more I've learned about it the more I've understood how wrong that is.

for one, braille is not an encoding of the latin alphabet. you can transliterate between the latin alphabet and braille the same way as you can transliterate between any two writing systems, but they really are completely separate scripts that follow completely different rules. converting to and from braille is a hard problem that depends on the specific orthography of the language being used, and within individual languages still is often very context sensitive.

for example, english braille (in some standards) spells the word "a" differently from the letter "a": they both use the same character that's used when the vowel appears within longer words, but when the letter "a" is used as a letter and not as the word, it (in some standards) requires an additional character to specify that you mean the letter.

also, braille isn't digital at all. it's designed for people, not computers. the earliest version of braille is from 1824, decades before the earliest machines you could reasonably describe as computers. braille was designed for humans, and it follows conventions that are reasonable for people but make no sense for computers. it's rare for two related dot patterns to be differentiated by "flipping one of the bits" like you'd do with a binary text encoding; instead you get things like rotating flipping or moving the pattern, which certainly feels a lot more like a writing system than an encoding of a writing system.

[wri0thesley]

eyes - neuvillette x reader (8.5k)

you have always known, one day, you would be married off to someone not of your choosing. but you certainly never expected it to be the iudex himself.

cw: not sfw text. explicitly chubby virgin reader, some insecurity, arranged marriage. double dick neuvillette, cunnilingus, bathing together. reader is afab but referred to with neutral pronouns.

this was a commissioned work.

There are certain standards one must follow as a child of Fontainian society; certain things that are expected of you. A certain way to speak and move and act - a set of rules that have been laid out clearly for you since the day you were born. You will know which fork to use at which mealtime. You will know the difference between what is appropriate to wear to a matinee and to an evening show. You will trust your elders to guide you, and you will be grateful for the life that they have oh-so-painstakingly laid out. 

So you are not surprised when your mother tells you that you are to be wed. 

You have even been expecting it. Since you became of a marriageable age, you have looked at all of the other children of society and wondered what kind of match your family might make. One of your own generation? Older, perhaps - more secure in their wealth and their status and position? You have even laughed about it with your friends, when you were out of earshot of all of your elders - discussing who would be the worst options, gossiping about who has had who over for tea recently. 

She’s surprisingly tight-lipped about who you’re going to wed, too. That’s not unexpected either, though it does make anxiety roil hot and sour in your gut. Plenty of children have run away from home so as not to be wed to somebody decades and decades their senior, or somebody with a reputation for cruelty - or sometimes even because the match that has been made has not taken into account a love affair unbeknownst to the elders of the family. 

You have no such love affair to romantically dash off into the sunset with; you have been a good and dutiful child your whole life. And though you do, perhaps, wish that you could know what it was like to have a love so fiery and passionate you would disobey the only life you’ve ever known . . . you have come to accept that will not be your lot in life. 

You have even worried once or twice that somebody, upon finding that they were engaged to you, might wish to run away. You have looked in the mirror and scrutinised your face, your posture, your body - a body that has fallen out of fashion recently, the beauty ideal in Fontaine being very much ‘look as much like Lady Furina as possible’. It is your body, though - and it has stood you in good stead, and the night in which you are finally to meet your betrothed your mother and your maid stand in your bedroom looking approvingly at how your gown falls over the soft peaks and curves of your hips and chest. 

All you know about this person who you are to be wedded to is that every time your family talks of them, they can barely hide the smiles on their faces and the superior lilt to their tone. Whatever match has been made for you . . . they are utterly ecstatic about it. 

“I think he’ll be more than pleased,” your mother says, tugging at a fold of fabric - she had chosen to have this dress made in pale blue, though it is not a colour that has been in your wardrobe before. A man, then; a well-placed man who makes your family giddy with excitement - a man partial to the colour blue and a spouse whose figure runs more to curves than lines. 

It is not a lot to go on. 

So you do not know what to expect, as you are brought down the stairs and into the dining room. All kinds of thoughts dance through your head; some pleasant, some . . . not so. You know that you will meekly accept what you have been given, the way you have been brought up to do - and it is not lost on you that the trajectory of tonight will perhaps influence your life for years and years to come. There is always the chance that, seeing you in person, your parent’s intended will reject you--

Your mind is churning at a hundred thoughts a minute as you step inside the dining room - but when you see who is seated at the head of the table, all of those thoughts seem to clatter to the ground at once. 

It is a wonder that your mouth does not drop open. 

In all of the time you have spent gossiping about possible matches in society, nobody has ever mentioned - even off-handedly - the possibility that the Chief Justice of Fontaine may be looking to marry. 

But there sits Monsieur Neuvillette - a little awkward, yes (he is being chattered to most insistently by your father), but straight and tall and handsome in his chair, his robes of office perfectly pressed, his face schooled carefully into a polite look of vague interest. Your mother coughs, and he looks up--

And his eyes, the colour of the evening sky or a perfect sapphire, widen just a touch. His mouth opens, the barest amount - and you swear that as his gaze sweeps over your form in your carefully chosen blue dress (a choice you are beginning to understand), he visibly swallows. 

“Ah,” he says, and he stands - walking towards you, bending and inclining his head. “It’s a pleasure to . . . finally meet you in person.” You’re still rather stunned speechless by everything that is happening - you cannot help but feel as though things are happening around you, and not to you - but as Neuvillette uses one of his gloved hands to take yours and to press a lingering kiss on your palm that makes your entire body feel as though it is on fire, you are suddenly all too aware of just what is going on. “You look radiant tonight.”

“M-Monsieur,” you say in return, and you sweep what must be the clumsiest curtsey of your life. “I . . . I have to admit that this is a surprise.” 

“Not an unwelcome one,” your mother puts in before he can respond. “Of course, we’re delighted with this match, and we’re absolutely sure you’ll be delighted with them--”

“I understand,” Neuvillette says, his eyes not leaving you. “If I may be frank with you, until recently I had never thought to marry.” 

Questions rise in your throat. If he had not thought to marry, why was he doing it now? And why you, when surely he must see the upper echelons of society every single day? What had brought him to your family’s door, asking after your hand over everyone else he must have had first pick of? But these are not polite questions for the dinner table, when your mother and your father are already ushering the two of you to your seats beside one another and beaming so brightly that it hurts to look at them. 

The dinner table is a place for light, polite conversation; the last opera you saw, the weather. Neuvillette smiles into his wine glass - a glass you notice is filled with water - when you mention that it has not seemed to rain much recently. You notice him looking at you every so often, over rims of glasses and delicate bites of foods . . . but you know that you, too, cannot help but sneak a glance at the Iudex of Fontaine seated by your side. 

Your future husband! Your betrothed! The man you will spend the rest of your life with! 

As much as you may wish for a moment alone with him, you know it is not proper; so when he stands and kisses your hand again and your father takes Neuvillette into his study to hash out some further details of your impending nuptials, you swallow your disappointment and remind yourself that you will have years with Neuvillette, to learn his secrets - to discover why he has decided to take you as a spouse. 

There is little time for getting to know one another beyond the most surface of levels when a marriage has been arranged for you - there is even littler time when the man you are going to marry is one of the most powerful and busiest men in Fontaine. Even the few times you see each other as the wedding looms closer - the period your parents optimistically refer to as ‘courting’ - there is little time to get to know his heart. 

You realise, at the final fitting for your wedding clothes, that the first time you will be truly alone with the man who is to be your husband will be the night of your wedding. 

And that particular thought . . . 

You know the ways of the world. You know what will be expected of you, in order to properly consummate a marriage - you know that you will be intimate with Neuvillette for years to come. But the idea that the first time that the two of you will be able to snatch time with one another with no parents or gossip-mongers or anybody else around will also be the time in which you and he will legally become one (and you know, from experience at the Opera Epiclese, that Neuvillette is nothing if not a stickler for the law) . . . oh, it is enough to make you reconsider one last time running away from your responsibilities. 

“Mother?” You ask, your voice quiet, the night before your wedding. You have spent the entire day overseeing flowers and being asked questions, watching the cooks and the waiters bring in fine delicacies from all over Teyvat (Neuvillette had not wanted hosting duties; you get the impression that as long as the ceremony was done legally, he would be pleased enough to call you his spouse. But your parents have been preparing for this your whole life, so they had indeed wanted the spectacle of their child marrying the most powerful man in Fontaine. With no family to speak of, he had acquiesced to their desires. Your parents are in shivers of delight that Lady Furina will, too, grace the halls of your family home). “What if . . . what if I do not please him?”

You are sitting before your dressing table, in your sleeping robe, haunted by thoughts of all of the things that could go wrong whilst your mother double checks your wedding gown and the jewellery you are to wear tomorrow. She looks over at you - her face is normally hard, but as she sees the knit of your brow and the bite of your teeth into your lip, she sighs softly. 

“You have nothing to worry about,” she says, stroking your cheek. “The Iudex asked for you specifically.” You blink at her, wide-eyed, and she laughs a soft little laugh. “Don’t let it get to your head, now; they have been badgering him to marry for some time . . . but he did ask for you, out of all of the people he could have had. So take heart in that. Do you think him a foolish man?”

“No,” you shake your head, your voice a soft whisper. You suppose that Neuvillette is many things, but ‘foolish’ would not be one that would cross your mind. 

“There. You and he are going to have a happy life together.” A sly look steals over her face. “Ah . . . are you worried about the wedding night itself?”

“Mama!”

“It’s something we all go through, my dear.” She catches your chin in her hand and smiles at you, and for a moment, despite all of the times you have disliked her for the life you have been forced into . . . you are reminded that she is your mother, and she wants this to work just as much as you do. “Do not be frightened of him. Do not be overwhelmed by him. He has chosen you to be his equal, but he will not expect too much of you. I promise . . . everything is going to be fine.” She gives you a wink. “And if I were you, and were to marry a man who looked like the Chief Justice - why, I’d be positively thrilling with excitement at the thought of my wedding night!”

“Mama!” This time, your scandalised tone brings her out in peals of laughter, and she kisses the top of your head as she leaves the bedroom. The door clicks behind her. 

Your final night in your childhood room; your final night unmarried. One last slumber amongst your own silken pillows and sheets (what kind of bed, you wonder, does the Chief Justice sleep in?). 

That night, you dream of a sea that churns with a similar anxiety to the one that you feel in your own belly. 

The morning of your wedding day, it is raining. Your family fuss over it, but as you stand at your window with people running all about you, messing with your hair and rearranging your dress and having arguments about your bouquet, you cannot help but find it comforting to watch the rain fall in droplets, stopping and starting again, mirroring your own still-nervous heart. 

You think you will falter at the last hurdle, as you stand outside of the Opera Epiclese - normally a place of theatricals, but also a place of the law, and the place that the most important part of your wedding day will occur - and take a deep breath ready to start your new life. The bouquet in your hands is full of rainbow roses and romaritime flowers, bursting with colour; you are grateful to have it to hold on to, as the doors are thrown open and you walk slowly down the aisle of the theatre. 

Your eyes desperately seek out someone who will provide you an ounce of comfort in the crowd, all peering at you curiously to see the person who has finally tamed the Chief Justice. This is a spectacle as much as a wedding, you suppose; and as you see some people whisper behind their hands, you wonder if you have been found wanting. You bite your lip hard to stop yourself crying - and then, onstage, his hands clasped over his cane, your gaze finds Neuvillette himself. 

The patter of the rain on the roof of the Opera stops all at once. For a moment, you swear everything falls silent, as you and he look at each other. 

Slowly, his mouth breaks into a small, secret smile, and the buzz of whispering intensifies - but that smile is enough to steady you. To remind you he has been nothing but kind and polite. To whisper to you that perhaps this union is a thing to look forward to, and not to be feared. 

He looks as handsome as ever; his suit perfectly-pressed, his hair streaming in a neat silver white tail behind him. There are flowers that have been braided into it; and you see, as you ascend the stairs to the stage, that there are a group of Melusines sitting in the front rows with matching little bouquets of Lumidouce bells grasped in their little hands, beaming up at the Iudex. 

Lady Furina presides over the proceedings, tossing her hair and preening and holding the audience in the palm of her hand - another reminder that theatrics are more respected than the law in a land like Fontaine. But you cannot bring yourself to mind too much - not when Neuvillette’s smile is steady, his eyes trained on you the whole time. Not when, as he repeats the words in a clear voice like a ringing bell, he whispers them again as if they are only for you. Not when he takes his bare hands - ungloved, for the exchange of the rings - and holds your own, soft and round and dimpled, as he slides the ring onto your finger as if you are the most delicate thing in the world. 

When Furina - with more glee in her voice than you would have expected - announces that he may now kiss you, you feel your shoulders draw up in anxiety. The entire audience goes quiet, waiting with baited breath for this - as if it is one of the things they have been waiting for all day. Neuvillette, though, keeps his gaze on you. He acts as though there are not a thousand Fontainian citizens watching your every move - slowly, he places his arm around your waist and draws you closer to him, so close that the crowds seem to melt away and there is nobody but the two of you. 

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he murmurs into your ear, angling his head so that the crowd cannot see that he has said something that is only for the two of you (no doubt they would be baying to be privy to the marriage bed, if they thought they could get away with it) - and then, his lips brush against yours. They are cool and soft; the lightest tang of sea-salt remains on your own after he is done. The crowd roars with their approval as he steps back and bows to you, pressing his forehead to the back of your hand - and you stand there, trembling, excited and nervous and frightened and on display all at once, as your new husband takes you by the hand and gently, gently leads you back down one of the aisles of the opera, out to the waiting carriages to spirit you away from the spectacle of the opera house and into the spectacle that your parents have designed as a celebration. 

As it turns out, it is not so bad. Your parents have understood, at the very least, that the two of you will be retiring early to Neuvillette’s residence (your trunks already packed, already loaded onto a carriage to be delivered in the next few days). They have managed to rein themselves in; only invite the most important echelons of society to this celebration, despite the luxury and the excess that has been coming into the house for weeks now. 

So you bow to Lady Furina and accept her compliments with a stutter and hot cheeks, Neuvillette by your side, his steadying hand on your waist. Neuvillette expertly manages to weave around your family’s ballroom as if he has been doing it all his life - but then, remembering how much older he is than you, you suppose that he has been doing it at least as long as you have been alive. He has a remarkable way of remaining polite, yet not brokering too much room for small talk and gossip, as if he can tell that this kind of thing is not your favourite. 

You overhear, when you have been spirited away from your husband’s side for ten minutes by some of your friends, an older couple accosting Neuvillette. 

“You had all of the choice in the world,” the man says, poking Neuvillette in the centre of his chest - from the slur in his words, you think he may have partaken in a touch too much of your parent’s imported dandelion wine. “Whyever did you make this one?”

Your heart stutters in your chest; a trickle of sweat rolls down the back of your wedding gown. This is what you have been fearful of, this whole time - you being found wanting, you being seen as not good enough for Neuvillette--

But your new husband merely smiles. 

“I have eyes,” he says, mildly, and he turns away from the couple and brings an end to the conversation that you know must leave them utterly blistering. He comes to find you, instead - apologising most profusely to your friends for having to steal you away. 

You stay for as short a time as you can manage, with the congratulations and the toasts and the speeches (a Melusine or two makes a speech for Neuvillette; you much prefer their simple honesty to some of the awful gushing things that come from the mouths of connections of your parents who have never given much care to you before), with the cake being cut--

“Here,” Neuvillette murmurs, and your cheeks go hot as he feeds you a bite of his own slice from the same fork he has been using. “I must confess that this is rather too sweet for me.” 

By the time that Neuvillette begins to make his excuses, bowing and smiling and thanking his hosts and the guests, the moon is already hanging white and plump in the black velvet of the night - and as you say goodbye to your parents, your Mama gives you a wink that makes you go hot all over. 

Neuvillette’s residence is surprisingly unassuming; it is smaller than your parents house, and he does not employ half as many maids or staff. For a moment, his gaze flitters over to you, and you sense a nervousness in the air. 

“I am sorry if it is not what you were expecting,” he says, voice clipped - but you shake your head, and try and let some of the anxiety drain from your tight shoulders. 

“It’s lovely,” you say, firmly, as he helps you out of the carriage. This time, when his gloved hand - he has chosen to put his gloves back on, his wedding ring glinting over the black satin - touches your waist, you gasp. The frisson of promise that runs through the touch makes you feel dizzy with possibility. Neuvillette looks at you with those dark sapphire eyes of his, and murmurs;

“I apologise if you’re nervous. I have no wish to . . . make you do anything you don’t want to. I am more than willing to wait-- the law does not require we consummate directly on our wedding night, and if you are frightened--”

A drop of rain lands on your cheek. 

“No,” you breathe out, all in a rush, surprised to find it falling from your lips as you say it. But then you think of his lingering kiss, of the way he shut down that couple at the wedding reception, of that private smile he had given you to soothe your fears as you walked down the aisle, and you’re even more surprised to find that you mean it. “Not at all. I-- I am nervous, but . . .”

He gives you another soft, gentle smile that makes your heart feel ready to burst out of your chest. The raindrop you had felt has no companions; simply a freak occurrence in the weather. 

“I must admit,” he murmurs, as he helps you towards his front door. “I am very pleased to hear that. I hope you won’t find it remiss of me to admit that I have been . . . rather looking forward to it.”

Your cheeks go hot again. The idea of Neuvillette, imagining you like that, even waiting for it . . . it is hard not to find it at once flattering and embarrassing. Neuvillette opens the door for you, but as you go to step inside--

“Ah, just a moment--” He leans his cane against the front door, and reaches for you. “I’m aware there’s a custom about bringing one’s new spouse over the threshold, and I would hate to break tradition--”

“You don’t have to,” you say, stuttering on the words. “I’m not light--”

But Neuvillette has already reached for you, already wrapped a surprisingly strong arm about your waist - and before you know it, as if he hasn’t needed to exert any energy at all, you have been pulled into his hold, held like a princess being rescued by a knight. 

You look up at him, and he looks down at you, his smile soft once more. 

“You feel perfectly light in my arms,” he tells you, as he steps over the threshold with you and gently places you down as softly and carefully as he had picked you up. You were not expecting the strength from him - he wears his robes of office, of course, and he certainly has the height, but there’s a kind of willowiness about him that does not exactly betray him being able to do such a thing. 

(If he can do that, a wicked little voice in your head whispers, imagine what else he could do to you - how easily he could manipulate you in a more intimate moment--)

It’s almost as if he can read your mind. He laughs a clear, silvery laugh like the rushing of a river. 

“Shall I show you to our bedchambers?” He asks you. “I’m sure you’ll want to get all of your finery off soon; it looks rather heavy. If you are not opposed . . . perhaps we may bathe together?”

Your heart, beating double time in your chest. Neuvillette’s eyes, cool and calm. The way your blood seems to sing in your veins. You smile back at him. 

“I would like that very much.”

Neuvillette’s house may not be as extravagant as expected, but the bathroom more than makes up for it - and most of all, the bathtub set into the floor, as wide as a swimming pool. He sees your look of surprise and laughs, sounding for once a little embarrassed.

“I enjoy being able to relax in water - natural water most of all,” he tells you, “but it would be rather . . . scandalous, if an ordinary citizen were to find me unexpectedly. This is my compromise. One of my vices, you may say.”

As vices go, it is a tame one, and you look at the bathtub - already full of clear water, so you can see the mosaic tiles on the bottom (the tub itself is stepped, so one can simply sit and relax at one end or perhaps even use the other end to swim a few strokes). 

“I loved to swim when I was little,” you say, wistfully. “As I got older, my parents thought the idea of me wearing my swim clothes too often was improper, but . . .”

“Well,” Neuvillette says, placing his hands upon your hips with only the lightest of pressure as if he is still too afraid to touch you too much. “You are welcome to use this bathroom for swimming whenever you wish. It is not quite the same, of course, but I want nothing more than you to be happy here. What’s mine is yours now, sweet one.”

It’s the first pet name he has used for you, and it makes your mouth go dry. Slowly, you turn towards him. You are about to be naked together, you suppose - even if you are going to bathe before anything more intimate happens - so you ought to be braver. You reach for his face, palms warm on his cheeks - and though his eyes flash in surprise, he gladly leans in to let you kiss him. 

This time, you let the kiss linger for longer; this private moment in the sanctity of a home that is to be shared between you. He sighs into your mouth and pulls you closer himself, so as you cradle his face his palms rest upon the ample curve of your hip. His teeth tug, almost shyly, at your bottom lip - and you feel your lashes flutter, your heart give an answering skip in your chest. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth and you part your lips, allowing him to take you as he wants - but even this ‘taking’ is done slowly, carefully, like a man who wishes to savour you. 

You pull back, your breath coming in soft little gasps - Neuvillette’s eyes are half-lidded, but it does not stop him smiling at you, putting you at ease. 

“We ought to disrobe,” he tells you, kindly - and he gently motions for you to turn, so that he may work at the difficult laces and hooks of your bridal outfit. You feel a little shy, as the fabric pools around your ankles, and you are left bare - but then he is turning you around, and in his eyes you see something that must be close to worship. 

“I am a man who says what I mean,” he tells you, tilting your chin upward toward him. “I have not spared your ego, little one - everything I see before me is . . .” He shakes his head, letting loose a ragged breath, more undone than you’ve seen him before. “More than I could ever have asked for.” One gloved finger trails across your lips, tracing a patch from the corner of your mouth down to your throat, your collarbone - reaching behind you to unclip your undergarments, so they fall to the ground with your gown. “You’re truly the loveliest creature.” 

“I--”

He shakes his head, smiling still. 

“Perhaps in my choice of a spouse,” he murmurs, “I let my own desires overtake me a touch . . . but ah, if you could see yourself the way I see you--”

You hesitantly hook your thumbs into your underwear and stand before him, naked completely - and you win, for your bravery, another ragged breath. 

“I must warn you,” Neuvillette murmurs, as he reaches for his own collar and begins to unbutton, to untie, to work the trappings of his own outfit off of himself. “You may be . . . surprised.”

“By what?” You feel brave enough to give him a little smile, though your heart is still beating faster than you’ve ever felt it. “Am I to discover you have been hiding extra limbs?”

Neuvillette’s gaze does not falter. 

“Something like that,” he agrees, mildly, as he slips his shirt and coat from his shoulders. His skin is milky pale in the moonlight streaming in from a window set high in the wall, his hair glimmering silver. He takes your breath away. 

Who would have thought you would ever find yourself in this position with the Chief Justice of Fontaine? 

He unbuttons his placket slowly - and as he carefully works down the fabric of his trousers, you realise exactly what it was he was warning you about. 

“I hope I do not disappoint you,” he says, as your mouth falls open at the sight of his cocks; resting one atop another, both half-swollen already. Your mouth goes dry at the thought of your wedding night, still to come. “I assure you, I know exactly what to do with them.” 

“I--I didn’t mean to--!” Your voice comes out a little panicked - but then, Neuvillette lets out a soft huff of laughter. 

“It’s quite alright,” he tells you. “But I will reiterate; I will not hurt you. You are . . . more than welcome to touch. But if we do not get in soon, I fear the water will have gone cold.” 

Neuvillette helps you into the bath, surprisingly unashamed of his own nakedness. At the press of his body against yours as he helps you down the steps inlaid into the tub, you feel his cocks jump against you, the wet smear of something against the dip of your back - but then, Neuvillette is lowering himself into the water beside you and letting loose a sigh of pure bliss that sends a coil of heat spiralling to between your thighs. 

You have never partaken in the gossip that surrounds Neuvillette, about his pointed ears or his inhumanly lovely face or his age - you would never have expected what he is hiding in his trousers. But as you sit beside your new husband, you cannot help but feel as though it makes perfect sense - a man like him could not be ordinary. And you trust him when he tells you he will not hurt you; when he says he knows what he’s doing, you think of all of the time he has on you and you have to suppress a shiver of desire for what he may have to teach you. 

He touches you, as the two of you bathe together. Lets his fingers massage the shampoo into your hair, lets his hands slide the washcloth over the contours of your body until you can barely breathe for the hot trails of fire that he leaves in his wake. You do not think he means to inflame you so - but then, he allows you to do the same thing to him, and he shudders and leans back into your touch, a soft noise almost like a purr falling from the back of his throat, and he realises exactly what bathing together is doing to you both. 

Still. The two of you linger there; touching one another. Getting to know one another’s bodies without any fear, for beneath the water all is muffled and calm. His fingers learn the shape of your nipples when he pinches them, how they pucker and harden beneath him. His palms learn the weight of your breasts, heavy and ample in his hands. His mouth learns the taste of your shoulders, as he drops hot, wet kisses across the span of them, the nape of your neck. And in return you feel the silkiness of his hair, the softness of his skin, the feel of his corded muscle beneath his deceptively slender frame. 

By the time the two of you are wrapped in fluffy towels the colour of an early morning sky, you are both hot with want. Neuvillette’s twin cocks seem to pulse with his desire; you can no longer tell if you are slick and wet from the bath or from the space between your thighs. You shyly look at one another through lowered lashes, though, as the wedding night and all it entails comes closer and closer and closer. 

“It’s a beautiful night,” you say to him, when the two of you have finally entered the bedroom. Neuvillette’s window is open a crack, enough so that the lacy curtains flutter in the light night-time breeze. “You would hardly think it’s been raining on and off all day.”

“Mmm,” Neuvillette agrees, as you feel him come up behind you. He slowly takes your hands, encouraging you to drop the towel; and then you stand before him, naked again, but with something far more than a bath in your future. He leans in and presses a kiss to the sensitive place where your neck and shoulder meet, just barely grazing it with surprisingly sharp teeth. “I should not wonder if it doesn’t rain again for some time.”

Neuvillette leads you to the bed, his hand firmly around yours. He is unerringly gentle and patient with you, as he urges you to sit upon the bedcovers - and your breath catches when you do as he asks, and instead of joining you he sinks onto his knees. You have never thought to imagine the Chief Justice kneeling before you, and the sight of it makes you buzz all over in anticipation. He smiles at your unsurety - and leans in, pressing a kiss to your knee, gently urging you to spread your thighs for him. His gloves are stripped away, but his wedding ring gleams on his finger as his fingers sink into the soft, full skin of your thigh. 

He leans in, pressing another kiss to the side of your knee. Higher, higher, higher he trails them - and his breath fans cool against your heated core, and your fingers clench into the bedsheets in surprise at what he might be about to do. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmurs to you, his cheek pressing silky against your skin, as he suckles a love-bite into the part where your leg meets your pelvis. “I merely want to ensure you’re adequately prepared.”

“Y-you don’t need to,” you say, breathless, hot, embarrassed and needy all at once. This is an act of such intimacy, you do not know how to parse the thought of the Iudex doing it to you - but he gives you a smile that is not without a hint of fang, the wickedest look you have seen upon his face so far, and he reaches between the two of you to use his thumb to pull apart the lips of your sex so you are revealed to him. 

“Oh,” he breathes. “But I want to, sweet one. And . . . looking at how wet you are for me, I daresay you want me to do so too.”

“M-Monsieur--”

“Neuvillette,” he murmurs, and he presses a kiss directly onto your sex, slick and wet with your own excitement, his nose brushing across the swollen nub of your clit. “Use my name.”

“Neuvillette--” It comes out rather thin and reedy, but Neuvillette does not seem to notice - instead, he seems rather preoccupied by what lies between your thighs. Your fingers tighten when you feel his tongue slide across you, gathering your slick upon the tip. There’s a strange quality to it, almost as if it is longer and firmer than a human tongue ought to be - and as he flickers his tip over your clit, again and again and again, and you shudder from the sensations he draws forth . . . you wonder if, too, his tongue is forked--

Thoughts quickly dissipate from your head when there is a man knelt between your thighs, though, and it is no different for you. The wondering is quickly chased away by the hungry way that Neuvillette laps at you, like a man who has been parched for water for months. 

Through it, he urges you to part your thighs as wide as you can, so that he can more thoroughly attack you with his tongue - and with every stroke, with every suck and lick and groan of him against you, you feel a knot tighten in your stomach in a way you have never experienced. It is like his mouth is a match, setting fire to your core - despite how you can feel wetness dripping down you, onto his bedcovers, surely soaking his chin and his lips. 

He does something with his tongue - a twirl, a flourish - and his name comes spilling out of your lips like a prayer, and the idea that he may at some point stop using his mouth on you flashes across your synapses like a tragedy. Without realising you’re doing it, you move one hand to grip his silvery hair, to keep him anchored against you - you realise, too, that it is not merely his name spilling out of you like an overturned wineglass. Pleas and whimpers and begging have joined the fray, and you would ordinarily cringe at being thought so wanting. But with Neuvillette’s mouth, with the promise of what he is trying to wring from you--

Shame seems unimportant compared to the way he shudders at your hand in his hair, the way his tongue intensifies flicking against your clit. 

He pulls back, breathing heavy, mouth glittering with your slick. 

“I’m going to put a finger inside you,” he tells you, and you are grateful that he too sounds a little breathless. You cannot imagine just how embarrassing it would be to be the only one falling apart. 

“I want . . . you,” you say, not without a touch of petulance, and Neuvillette lets out a hoarse little laugh. Still kneeling before you, he reaches up to touch your warmed face - his thumb, too, glitters with your arousal from the way he had held you open. You cannot bring yourself to care when he softly smears it across your bottom lip like an offering, and he lets out a shuddering groan at the sight of your tongue swiping it off. 

“I want you,” he says. “Oh, you have no idea how much I want you. But I will not hurt you, sweet one. Let me prepare you.”

It feels very much like him; this way of taking charge, his firm words. This time, his hand curves up your inner thigh, and your breath catches as his finger slides between the valley of your sex, wetting itself in your slick and his saliva. Your toes curl into his plush carpet as he nudges your clit with his fingertip, as a soft noise of surprise escapes your mouth and he chuckles. 

He slides one finger inside of you with no resistance at all. His earlier ministrations have seen to that. It’s a strange sensation, to have something inside that is not one of your own fingers (rather smaller, rather shorter than his) - but it is hardly unwelcome. You whisper out his name, your eyes closing, and Neuvillette makes a gentle noise of encouragement. 

“That’s right,” he murmurs to you, as he slowly begins to pump his finger in and out of you. “You’re doing so well - you’re taking it beautifully. I’m going to put a second one in--”

He does exactly as he says, and the hand still knit in his hair tugs at the silvery strands a little harder. It is not that it is painful, but simply that it is a stretch you are unused to - and one, too, that you know will continue to intensify. 

You feel a strange, cool shock at the entrance to your sex - and you chance a glance down and realise it is his wedding ring, pressing against you. The sight and the knowledge makes you shudder, and Neuvillette huffs out a noise of want in return. 

You think of the cocks, straining beneath the vee of Neuvillette’s pelvis. You cannot see them now, but from the way they had looked when the two of you were just bathing, you feel certain they must be swollen stiff and hard, waiting for their own chance (and too, from the spots of colour on Neuvillette’s cheeks, the way his words have a strange, dry edge to them when he speaks). How will he put those inside of you? One at a time? Both at once? 

“What are you thinking about?” Neuvillette asks, raising his gaze to meet your own, a smile tugging at the corners of the lips. “You suddenly tightened around me.” 

“I--!” Your cheeks go hot, embarrassment making warmth seep down your back. Neuvillette laughs. 

“No need to keep secrets,” he murmurs, slowly establishing another rhythm, a slow pump of his two fingers inside of you, scissoring slightly to open you up. “We are married now, sweet one. We can share everything. Mmm . . . let me see. Were you imagining my fingers to be my cock?”

“Neuvillette--” Your voice is a weak little protest, and you avert your gaze shyly even as you force the words out. “I was . . . will you put them both inside of me?” Your gaze slips over his face again, nervous to see his reaction - his eyes widen in surprise, but it is not at all a look of anger. 

“Not tonight,” he tells you, and he smiles again. “I fear it may be too much for you. Ah, but if that’s what you want . . . my dear, I know you’d feel exquisite.” 

His fingers, pumping in and out, curling inside of you. His words, velvet-draped and deep - the look of concentration on his face, insistent on nothing more than drawing pleasure forward from you. You feel the hot tension inside of you reach a breaking point - a pot, ready to bubble over. 

“I must confess,” he breathes, leaning in, breath hitting your sex hot and close. “I was worried you might be afraid. I’m terribly glad to know what an effect the idea has on you.”

As he finishes the sentence, he lets his tongue drag out one slow, final lap of your clit - and it is just enough to push you over the final edge. The bubbling pot within you reaches boiling point - and the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt, like molten heat, suffuses you entirely. Your head falls back. A noise of sheer enjoyment falls wanton from your lips - your thighs and your hips and your entire body trembles and shakes in the pleasure, and you feel your sex pulsating and throbbing around the two of Neuvillette’s fingers that are inside of you. 

“Lovely,” Neuvillette murmurs, watching you in awe, his fingers slowing down as he lets you ride out the waves of your orgasm. “Oh, you’re . . . exquisite.”

“Neuvillette,” you say, collapsing back onto the bed, your breath coming in harsh pants. “I was afraid, at first. But I don’t think I could be. Not knowing what you’re like now. Not anymore.”

“Sweet thing.” Neuvillette stands. He steps forward and you see him again - his cocks are indeed straining, silvery precome dripping from the dual tips and smeared over the flat planes of his stomach. “You have no idea what you do to me. May I . . . ?” 

He does not need to ask. You think you would grant him whatever he asked for - you cannot imagine Neuvillette overstepping your boundaries, when he has been so sweet and so careful and so guiding for as long as you’ve known him, even knowing he could do whatever he wanted to you and nobody would blame him. But it warms your heart that he asks even so. 

“Please do,” you breathe, and you spread your thighs wider to accommodate him on the bed. 

His hands scoop under your hips, his palms firm on your ass as he moves you higher up the bed, ensuring that your head and shoulders are propped up with a mound of pillows. Even with his cocks practically twitching, he prioritises you before himself, and you cannot resist another show of appreciation, wrapping your hand around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss. 

He groans into your mouth, the movement clearly welcome - but when he mouths at you now, he is far messier than he has been before, his teeth just a little more present. You think he must be losing some of his control, and as his cocks nudge against your inner thighs, you are proved correct. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes against your lips, pulling back just far enough to be able to speak. “I cannot hold myself back a moment longer--”

“Please, Neuvillette,” you whisper, fingers still in his hair. 

His lower cock nudges against your sex, the ring of muscle that will grant him entrance - and as he opens you up, his second cock rubs over the swollen over-sensitive nub of your clit and you whine. 

He covers your whine with another kiss. He eases into you, moment by moment, inch by inch - you have nothing to compare it to, but you think from the slow tempo he goes at and the way his gaze keeps flicking over you, checking you’re alright, he must be larger than average. 

But he has prepared you well. The stretch is an ache, but a pleasant one - it does not send painful shockwaves all through you. Your thighs wrap around his hips, pulling him as close as you can manage, and Neuvillette sighs. 

“Will you kiss me again?” He murmurs, so softly you almost do not hear him. The request makes your heart feel like bursting in your chest - the soft way he looks at you, his unwillingness to pull away from you, his desire to be as close to you as he can even when he is buried inside of you. 

You do. Arms wrap around his shoulders. His hands find purchase on your hips. His mouth and yours dance against one another - his tongue learning yours as if he is learning a new language. 

He fucks you like that. 

He is not rough with you, that first night; he does not, as you have heard so many new husbands do, take you and have you and ignore what you might want. Neuvillette cherishes you. 

The slow rock of his hips, indulgent in their rhythm. The way he kisses you. He is chasing his own release, but he does not feel any need to fuck into you with abandon. At least not yet. 

But time ticks on. The two of you seem to meld into one entity, and the kissing and the fucking grows sharper at the edges. You feel that Neuvillette is hovering on something, his expression almost desperate, as he rearranges the angle of his hips and the speed of his thrusts. 

“Please,” he whispers, broken-voiced. “I’m close--”

You let go of him and he lets out a noise of distress at the lack of contact, a noise that makes you shiver with the idea of how much power you may one day have over him. But instead of anything else, one of your hands darts between you, to take a firm grip on his second cock. Neuvillette hisses through his teeth at your hand, hot and firm. 

You do not know what you’re doing, not really, but that does not seem to bother Neuvillette as he increases the speed of his hips. In fact, he does most of the work - fucking his lower cock inside of you, hot and deep and wet, and fucking the cock atop it into your fist. You manage to work out a kind of twisting motion that makes him growl in the back of his throat--

It’s a fascinating noise, really. It makes you think of him as an animal, something feral and possessive - and you wonder what, later on, you may learn about him--

But then your name is falling from his lips like a prayer, and his cock is twitching inside of you and in your grip, and your back arches at the same time as he leans forward and sinks his teeth into your shoulder--

(Almost like a claiming bite. Almost like a mark to say that you are his). 

And both of you come, together, in great waves and pants and gasps of breath. His come paints your fist and the round softness of your stomach at the same time as it paints inside of you, your body once more pulsating around his cock as if it never wants to let you go. 

Like a tide on the shore; like a moon rising high over the lakes of Fontaine. Neuvillette lets himself lay atop of you, his head against your heart, his breath coming in great heaves. 

You do not need to think this time; you simply lift your unsoiled hand and begin to stroke the silver of his hair in slow, careful motions. From the back of his throat again comes that noise, something like a purr and something like a chirrup. His eyes close contentedly. 

“Neuvillette?” You whisper into the darkness, and your husband makes a soft ‘mm?’ of response. “You really . . . could have had anyone. Why did you choose me?”

“Hmm, sweet one?” He lifts his head from your chest and looks down at you like you have asked him why the sky is blue. “Didn’t you hear me earlier? I certainly did have my pick . . . I perhaps wouldn’t have chosen to marry if Lady Furina hadn’t been so insistent, but I was lucky enough to be able to choose anybody I wanted. And I had seen you.” He shakes his head, a huff of laughter falling from his mouth. “Like I said - I do have eyes.”

Your cheeks feel hot. The thought of being coveted by Monsieur Neuvillette, when you had worried about your body and your match and your future so often it felt like second nature--

“Oh dear,” he says, looking down at the two of you - at the sweat-slicked hair, at the come drying on your inner thigh. “I fear we’ll need to have another bath before bed.” 

“And you won’t mind if I join you?”

He chuckles. 

“Why,” he says. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

[icysab]

more niki boyfie hcs — falling for you edition!

requested here!

wc: <350 i think

a/n: this is a little different than my standard boyfie hcs but i wanted to try something new, so let me know your opinion in comments, reblogs, asks, etc. of this format !!

a/n no. 2: idc what anyone says riki is a DORKY, RIZZLESS LOSER SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD BOY AND I WILL WRITE HIM AS SUCH.

- bro was CAPTIVATED by your smile

- that was literally the first thing he noticed about you— how your smile lit up the room he was in

- you were one of jungwon’s friends and so he introduced you to all the members

- and when i tell you niki’s heart STOPPED when he saw you

- but niki is loyal to his bros!! so he swallowed the lump in his throat so jungwon didn’t kill him

- (jungwon, in fact, introduced you to the members because you mentioned that niki was cute. he would not have cared one bit.)

- only realizes he’s staring after sunoo nudges him with his elbow

- literally stuttering trying to introduce himself

- “i, uh, my name is- uh- riki”

- (failed) attempts at acting aloof fly out the window when you repeat his name back and smile

- the second you leave jake and sunghoon RELENTLESSLY tease the poor guy

- and he gets so defensive too, like he wasn’t acting like a lost puppy dog

- before jakehoon can strip niki of too much of his pride though, won tells them to knock it off

- after scolding the two goofballs (scary leader) won decides to tell niki

- “you know, i don’t care if you go for her”

- poor riki is not following

- “??”

- “she thinks you’re cute too, and besides, you’d make a good match”

- he malfunctions

- “no nono why would you think that!! HAHA- wait. she thinks i’m cute??”

- he’s all red and blushy

- at this point jakehoon are CACKLING at poor riki

- won explains that you thought riki was cute too and that’s why he introduced you two, but he didn’t expect him to be such a nervous wreck around you

- riki is shocked 😮

- after MUCH coaxing from the members, won finally gets riki to text your number

- riki’s leg won’t stop bouncing with nerves as he types out a message

- “hey, this is riki from earlier. i just wanted to say that your shirt was cool”

- all the members facepalm at his attempts at playing it cool

- you respond almost instantly, to riki’s surprise

- “hi riki!! thank you, + i thought your outfit was cool too :D”

- before he can breathe a sigh of relief that your text was super nice and simple, he sees the typing bubble pop up again

- “did you ask won for my number? hah you must have wanted an excuse to talk to me again ”

- he freezes again

- HOW DID YOU SEE RIGHT THROUGH HIM??

- he’s about to deny, deny, deny, but won stops him

- “dude, just tell her the truth. did you already forget that she thinks you’re cute too?”

- riki’s brows furrow in thought at that, but before he can even begin to construe a cool, smooth response, jake rips the phone out of his hands

- RIKI SCREAMS SO LOUD THE ENTIRE DORM REVERBERATES while jake books it to the bathroom to lock himself in

- after a minute, he walks out with riki’s phone and the most devilish smirk on his lips

- before jake can do anything else, riki snatches the phone back and apprehensively starts to read the damage jake had done

- “lol you caught me. if you want, we could get to know each other better over some ice cream tmr? it’ll be my treat”

- “woah, that was smoother than i expected. ill see you tmr riki :)”

- riki is dumbfounded. did jake actually just score him a date with YOU?? there’s no way this worked

- “thank me later,” jake teases

- he is so in shock that he doesn’t even have the capacity to kill jake. tomorrow, a date (???) with you? he can die a happy man.

- to be continued…. ?

[waltzingwithyourenemyattheball]

PICK A CARD: LOVE NOTES FROM YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE

Top Left: Pile 1 Top Right: Pile 2 Bottom: Pile 3

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, so take what resonates and leave the rest.

You are not allowed to copy my work under any circumstances.

All personal tarot readings are PAID.

Thank you for all letting me read for you, please provide feedback.

Pile 1

‘We would be a wonderful us’  ‘Workplace romance’ ‘I’ll follow you till the end’ ‘I’m always gonna be in love with you’

You might get text like this: 1. Them: You are beautiful, more than you realise. 2. Them: I’ll make you breakfast. 

Your future spouse and you share a similar sense of humour, you both will be teasing and joking a lot. I see they are into philosophy for some of you, definitely a deep thinker either way, their view of life might intrigue you. This person an you will have many conversations, they will be mentally stimulating to you and get you thinking. Definitely some air sign presence (Gemini, Libra, Aquarius). I see rain is significant, maybe you’ll meet that time but it is coming in strong. Either one of you loves to style hair. I am seeing a man braiding a girl’s hair. It’s the little things about your relationship, spending quality time whenever you can, through thick and thin. They only like you and want you to be verbal in expressing your feelings. They really want to get married to you have an unbreakable bond. 

COMMENT 111 TO CLAIM!

🌙To know more about your future spouse in detail, DM me for a personal tarot reading🌙

Pile 2

‘Hopeless romantic with high standards’  ‘Star-crossed lovers’  ‘You look at each other like the two of you have your own language’ ‘One in simping, the other is oblivious’ - literally everyone else sees it. ‘Are we friends? Or are we more?’

They might say these things to you:

1. I am not supposed to be thinking about you.  3. Why won’t you leave my mind?  4. Wherever I look you are there. 5. Them: fight me for the rest of our lives.

Their heart flutters when you are in close proximity to them. Romantic tension and some awkward moments, with stealing glances and shy smiles. You guys will also have a lot of healthy debates where you disagree and argue, but overtime know how to work things through and are respectful. The transition period from friends to lovers is really being given emphasis here, it’s like everyone else sees it, when you two are together, you forget other people exist. Some of you might even know each other since college or some educational institution. Your love is very pure, only wanting the best for them. It is a slow-burn romance, with hands almost touching but didn’t. You guys are each others safe space, giving a sense of security. 

🌙To know more about your future spouse in detail, DM me for a personal tarot reading🌙

PILE 3

There are many different messages for this group, take it as it resonates. ‘Enemies to lovers’ ‘Friends to lovers’ ‘Workplace romance’ ‘SO THIS IS LOVE’  ‘Cute nicknames’ - even if you find them cringey right now, with the right person I see you turning into a puddle. ‘I feel lovable when you take care of me’ ‘Talk like best friends’ ‘Power couple’  ‘Someday when I say I am going home, it’ll mean I get to see you and that will make all of everything worth it’ Things they might say to you/text you: 1. You are so cute. 2. Do you wanna go driving? Just me and you. 3. We fix it together, because that’s what a relationship is about, going through life together as a team 4. You are so physically and mentally attractive at the same time, that’s why I am so crazy about you. 5. I only pretend I don’t like you. 6. [ angry whisper ] do you even know how cute you are.  One thing is settled, that they definitely find you attractive. It might start out as dislike which will morph into a friendship of sorts leading to a love connection. You guys love to banter. I see a lot of banter. If you read ‘the hating game’ I get those vibes. They find excuses to spend time with you until they are like I am gonna be honest and be more upfront rather than relying on some external factor. One of you is unconventional and the other finds them interesting and the constant need to be in touch, might also be a therapist of some sort, or just have healing energy. 🌙To know more about your future spouse in detail, DM me for a personal tarot reading🌙

-

EL TAROT

[evertidings]

Hello! I'm thinking of starting an IF story later this year, and am completely new to coding and how to organise a chose-your-own-adventure. I was wondering whether you could share how you organise each route/the story of WTS, please. Love your work!

hi!! if you're overwhelmed by formatting and you're writing in twine, i'd actually recommend writing directly in the twine app. it has a great mind-map aesthetic that can help you visualize things.

but if you're curious as to how i write, i've attached some screenshots below. i believe i've talked about this before, but i'll go over it again because why not?

example #1: sections

one of the most important steps for me when organizing a document is having headers. it allows me to jump from section to section, rather than scrolling through for ages trying to find something. it also helps me break the chapter into smaller sections, which makes things less overwhelming for me.

example #2: choices.

in terms of the document itself, i make sure to differentiate texts with various colours to make things easier on the eyes. i also make sure they are visually different. for example, in chapter ten, i wrote my choices in a purple colour and indented them slightly. i also write each line with bullet points, just so i know the text that follows is part of that choice and not general text.

example #3: if statements.

similar to my choices, i colour my "if statements" in a different colour than the general text. i also indent them further than the choices and change the bullet point that it's written on, just so i can further differentiate the two. for those who don't know, if statements act like flavour text, which show up only if you've completed or met a certain requirement prior to the scene. in the picture below, the flavour text reveals itself if you've been rude to Blane seven times or more. otherwise, you get the general text.

overall: aside from those two formatting decisions, my word document is really standard. luckily, i'm able to keep track of a my branches in my head, so this system works for me, but it goes without saying that it won't be for everyone. as i said at the beginning of the post, if you're more visual, twine (or some sort of mindmap tool) might be useful. hopefully this is (slightly) helpful. if anyone has more questions on this, please let me know! i'm always happy to answer them :)))

p.s. if anyone is confused about all the "<" and ">" symbols, that's just part of my twine coding. i usually copy and paste what i write in word into my code, so this just saves me from typing it.

[zaebucca]

About scale, process, palette and canvas: a few considerations on pixel art as a medium

User moredogproblems answered an interesting and legitimate question by another, DiscountEarly125, regarding my work and canvas size. He also perfectly isolated two central concepts of pixel art, which are scale and process. Canvas size, which was the theme of DiscountEarly125's specific request, is more of a dependent variable to those two aforementioned concepts, rather than a starting point. I hope the following considerations I shared may help or prompt some other ideas, but this is what I could come up with 15-ish years of experience with pixel art (and a few more years of art and media studies). I was quite in the mood of writing down these few thoughts that have been floating for a while. I apologize as this may also result in a confusing wall of text, but it is all part of a my work and research, and I would love to polish all the material, hopefully with some thoughts, insights from other colleagues, as well as pictures and materials!

A. Scale and canvas size It is true that the bigger the canvas, the more distance one may visually create from pixel art, but I personally think this is to be possibly considered a matter of perceiving pixels, rather than a fundative problem of the medium. In fact I concur with the idea of "process makes the medium" rather than identifying pixel art as how (evidently) pixeled the result feels. The general picture, or the sum of pixels, though, is a really important matter to the medium nonetheless! Pixels themselves work in relation one with another, so it's their overall result that gives context and makes the subject recognizable. This relationship between pixels links back to all the art fundamentals that each artist is taught, from color theory to shape and composition - and so on. So, the canvas size debate usually boils down to a matter of scale or necessity of your subjects. As long as the dimension (canvas) of your subject (as in: a drawing of an apple, a character sprite, a mockup environment) allows you to operate, control and keep an eye on the quantity (number/area of pixels together) and quality (color, shaping of multiple pixels, texturing obtained through color and shapes) of isolated single pixels or pixeled areas, you're in the pixel art universe. The other way around to define the matter of scaling: in order to be operating pixel art fundamentals and techniques, your subject has to be on a scale that allows you to apply principles of pixel art within the space of your canvas and your personal style. These very same principles, or basics, can be applied with different results and extent to bigger and smaller canvases alike, each with their own specific difficulties and variables. It is important to adapt your scale when learning, and trying classic canvases per subject like "16x16px" (standard tile or character sprite unit, tied to older consoles and screen ratios, it's a bit complicated there) is always a nice idea - they also tend to be industry benchmarks and necessities so in case you'd like to consider a professional output, that's very useful.

Scale also applies to the array of colors, and there lies the concept of palette: a number of single hexadecimal hues we are using for each single pixel. Any single pixel can have one hexadecimal color only.

Consequentially it is absolutely true that either a huge canvas or a palette too broad may prevent a viewer from perceiving immediately the "nature" of your medium, namely seeing square pixels, recognizing a certain amount of color - or more thoroughly recognizing that you made some choices for each subject on a pixel level. What could possibly happen on a huge canvas (without zooming in) is that you can't really grasp the pixels, but just the "overall picture" - and that may not differ too much from digital, raster art, which is of course also based on pixels. Therein appearently lies a sort of threshold that is really hard to pin down for us pixel artists, as it depends on screen size, visualization methods, distance, filters and lots of other inherently subjective parts.

This kinda is my case sometimes: I make big environments (possibly too big, and too detailed in each part I tell myself) that are a sum of many lesser parts: both tilesets and sprites that relate (but not strictly adhere) to a basic space unit that is 16x16pixels. You can indeed consider scale in a broader sense as a subdivision or magnification issue, much alike squinting your eyes to focus on a picture's overall contrast or, conversely, analyzing its fundamental parts with a magnifying glass, and then a microscope - an analogy as follows:

a. the picture as a whole is like a colorful rock that you can analyze by magnifying its grain. b. the characters, geographical elements and textures, works like the different substances that compose the rock and give its visible characteristics grain and complexity, c. single pixels constitute the very atoms of those previously recognized substances.

I mean "atom" in the traditional, classical meaning of indivisible, fundative object. That's a "quantized" part of information, which for pixel art is ultimately color (or a binary value, like yes/no black/white). If you were, for example, to crop some parts of my work - let's say 160x144 pixels (a gameboy screen resolution in pixels) you would see the substances that are characters and elements of nature, and when you zoom in again, every atom becomes visible as a single entity of color. There are 29 different type of "atoms" in Ruin Valley as in different, singularly hexadecimal colors that work together in different combinations and shapes to create different substances and characters. 18 of them are used for the different qualities of the environment, and 11 more for extra hues for characters and other elements to pop out a bit.

It's really interesting to see how many pixel artists push this "threshold" of pixel art canvases to the extremely small or the extremely big, whereas, notably, palettes are less open to growth: it is indeed my opinion that pixel art tends to quantize color (quality) over than dimension (quantity). Palettes, notably, do not grow exponentially, but tend to a lower, fixed, controlled amount of individual values instead. This usually gives the artist the true possibility and toolkit through which is possible to think about/with pixels. In other words: color (or its absence) is the founding unit and identity of pixel art as a digital medium.

B. Pixels as process or pixels as objective? Pixels themselves (as strange as that may sound!) are not to be considered an objective of pixel art, I think, but the founding matter of its research as a medium instead. I think that making pixel art is not just devoting oneself to show those jagged, squarey areas or blunt edges that we all know and love: this is just one of the possible aesthetics that pixel art conveys or adopts - especially on small canvases. Pixel art is not about denouncing itself as pixels, but, rather, embracing the square, atomic unit to build an ensemble that conveys a content or a style. That's the important part of the discourse that emancipated pixel art into being a medium, and not just an aesthetic choice or style of representation. Again: process makes this medium. Speaking of that, I consider pixel art as part of a broader family of "quantized art", namely media that operate on/with "indivisible, founding bricks and unities" that can assume a certain quality (color, mainly) within a certain quantity (palette, canvas size) and in relation to its surroundings to describe something. This puts pixel art, with its specifics and with a certain degree of semplification, among other mediums such as cross-stitch, bead art, construction sets, textile art (on a warp and weft basis), (micro-)mosaics and others.

A classic threshold example of process vs objective: oekaki art. Oekaki art - which I love and also happen to make from time to time - doesn't really work or "think" specifically on a pixel base: it doesn't place pixels per se, but uses pixel-based areas and textures on bigger canvases with a certain degree of freedom, like one would normally do with brushes on raster digital art programs (adobe ps, gimp, clip studio and so on) in order to convey an aesthetic with fewer colors and a certain line style and texturing. That way, oekaki uses and knows pixels in a deep way, but doesn't see them primarily in a quantized way. As a result the "overall picture" shows pixels to a certain extent, and it's possible to recognize distinct pixels for each part, but the objective is not an analysis and use of pixel and quantized information, but the use of an aesthetic based upon accessibility of resources, their control and a certain rendering style.

A huge part of pixel art is its absolute accessibility: everyone with a fairly outdated computer or screen and a basic drawing program can study the medium. To be fair, it's indeed considering accessiblity that I highly support an inclusive approach to the term "pixel art" and I think traditional oekaki is a close, beautiful relative that builds upon the rules and techniques of pixel art and pixel rendering, yet keeping its identity as its very own medium - somehow like a dress may be built around/upon textile design. Anyway, boundaries are meant to be crossed and I think there definitely are lots of oekaki and pixel-based art that meet traditional pixel art mid-way - or further. I also think the "is it pixel art?" discourse possibly ensuing - and generally speaking any media belonging purist ontology - is a treacherous, slippery terrain leading to excesses, and this is not my focus today, neither am I able to tackle that subject extensively at the moment.

C. Conclusions and a few good exercises Everything above may be farfetched or too complicated as a starting point. I tried to write all down as orderly as possible. The point of this (possibly discouraging) analysis and the reasoning between scale and process is that (pixel) art is about trying different canvases, and reasoning on one's subject and objective, rather than limiting oneself to presets sizes or styles. It's important to choose something that resonates with us and, in doing so, thinking about other, more interesting limitations: that's the discourse about quantity of space and quality in color. Limiting is the best possible exercise and one I wholeheartedly encourage: by doing so we are progressively delving deeper on the basics, as we learn the fundamental relationships between shapes and colors that we can achieve through pixels. A few good exercises that I too implemented in my own workflow come to mind: 1. Trying different canvases (or sizes) for the same subject (sprite, character art, illustration or so on). This helps a lot finding a comfortable size to apply pixel techniques, as well as getting a hold over fundamentals such as aliasing, linework, conventional representation and so on. 2. Trying different palettes for the same subject, both by varying colors themselves (therefore learning about values and contrast and readability, as well as atmosphere and mood!) or singular hues and their components, in order to discover possible relationship between them. Have fun! 3. Reducing the width of the palette progressively for the same subject: reducing the number of singular colors forces a reasoning on shapes, rapresentation. You may go from 1-bit art (just black/white) to 3 colors, 4, 8 and so on. We'll not talk about transparency as a singular color there, but if you happen to be interested in retro art, transparency counts to the palette size. This exercise is very useful in rendering, and possibly tricky. And definitely fun. :') 4. Choosing an objective and usage of our work: for example trying to learn about old pixel art limitations for games, in order to reason within specifics. Get inspired by traditional games (spriters-resource is your best friend here, in case you have a specific retrogame you're thinking of)! I will probably talk about limitations and style on another post. 5. Four eyes (and other multiples) are better than two: try to talk with people and friends and other artists you trust and feel comfortable with to get their point of view. This can be scary, I know, especially at the beginning. You're not forced to, of course, but if you do (in a safespace) there's lots you can learn about concepts such as readability, subject recognition, rendering and composition. Our eyes and brains get accustomed to something, and pixel art being a rather analytic medium made of synergies, subtle changes, limitations and conventions is especially tricky on the artist's eyes on the long term. Either way, the important thing about pixel art is understanding that this medium is about recognizing and enjoying the process rather than the eventual aesthetic and in order to do so the best choice is to start simple, small, with few colors and techniques at a time! Have fun and hit me up with your progress and considerations. :')

[performativezippers]

Hello again!! :D i was wondering, what makes a story feel lifeless? i mean, not the plot but the text itself. My writing feels like a bunch of facts one after the other: the sky was blue, it smelled like cinnamon; This happened and then That happened, now they're doing This etc. Despite including sensory details and the protagonist's thoughts, it still feels monochromatic and devoid of personality :( and like? too quick?? in a bad way (not sure why). How can i change this?

Great question! I love this one! Here are three things that come to mind for me.

Based on what you've written, it seems like what you might be missing is emotionality--without the right emotion beats, it's no wonder its feeling lifeless to you. You've got the senses nailed -- the sky is blue (what they see), it smells like cinnamon (scent, evocative! curious: why does it smell like that, i wonder as the reader, that's good!). And you've got plot points coming one after the other, also good.

So maybe your paragraph looks like this (obviously I'm just making this up):

Jane followed Maura into the farmer's market. It was a hot day. The sky was bright blue and the air smelled like cinnamon. Maura took a long time looking at all of the vegetables. Jane bought a Red Sox onesie for Frankie's baby. Maura spent a lot of money, and Jane was ready to go long before Maura was.

Here are three things I'd do to make this seem more alive, more emotional, and take longer (if you want it to):

1. Vary the sentence length. This is a great an easy fix to writing that sounds wooden. Read it out loud. Notice the steady tempo of the sentences above; they're all relatively similar in length. Breaking that up can give a more unpredictable rhythm that makes the reader's breath catch in their chest. After you read the above paragraph out loud, read this one. Notice that none of the words have changed, only the punctuation (and things like "and"):

Jane followed Maura into the farmer's market on a hot day. The sky was bright blue, the air smelled like cinnamon. Maura took a long time looking at all of the vegetables, and Jane bought a Red Sox onesie for Frankie's baby. Maura spent a lot of money. Jane was ready to go long before Maura was.

That's a little more lively, a little more of an emphasis comes into "Maura spent a lot of money," and there's a bit of a dance to "the sky was bright blue, the air smelled like cinnamon" in a way there wasn't to the first version.

Okay, simple fix done. Now to the more complex ones.

2. Tie specific emotion and memory to each sensation. So it smells like cinnamon, so what? So the sky is blue, so what? What do those things mean for Jane? Why are we calling those out? What can we learn from/about Jane and the scene from her reactions to those things? Maybe now it looks like this (new/modified stuff in blue):

Jane followed Maura into the farmer's market. It wasn't until they were approaching the first fruit stand that Jane realized how long it had been since she'd been here. Jane was surprised to find that she missed it, missed watching Maura touch every single damn zucchini and then buy none of them. It was nice, actually. It was the hottest day of the summer so far; the sky was bright blue, and the air smelled like cinnamon. Maura took a long time looking at all of the vegetables, as always, and Jane wandered away in a fit of boredom, returning with a cheap Red Sox onesie for Frankie's baby that made Maura mutter something under her breath about synthetic fabrics and infant skin. Jane didn't bother not to smile. It felt like old times. Maura finally found some berries up to her standards and spent more money than even Jane expected her to, and Jane eventually had to drag her back to the car.

Okay, so that's very different, right? Thinking about each detail, each action, as something that's specific and makes Jane think of specific things, to compare and contrast to how it might have gone before. That's going to give you lots of life and emotionality. We learn, without you having to tell us, that Jane expected it to be boring, stilted, long, and not very hot outside. That tells us a lot about Jane. Plus, we learn that not only was nice and kind of emotional and hot and Maura spent so much money, but also how Jane feels about those things, those expectations she had gotten wrong. That tells us even more about Jane!

And then the final thing that comes to my mind right now is:

3. Connect what's happening to the broader plot or tension of this scene. Why are they at the farmer's market? What is Jane needing to happen, or hoping doesn't happen? Let's say Maura has dragged Jane out because Jane has been stuck inside the precinct for a week trying to find a clue that's evaded her on a tough case. The unsolved case is weighing on Jane, and Maura is a firm believer that fresh air and exercise will give Jane's brain the breath it needs to find the clue. Jane is very grumpy about it. So that's tension: Jane wants to be at work saving lives, and Maura has dragged her here, using Jane's love for Maura to manipulate her into coming to the market. So maybe now it looks like this (new/modified stuff in purple):

Jane reluctantly followed Maura into the farmer's market. It wasn't until they were approaching the first fruit stand that Jane realized how long it had been since she'd been here; Maura used to drag her here almost every weekend, but that was before Casey. Before everything with Maura's dad. Before their relationship was stretched taut like a rubber band and then very nearly snapped in two. Jane was surprised to find that she missed it, missed watching Maura touch every single damn zucchini and then buy none of them. It was nice, actually. It was the hottest day of the summer so far; the sky was bright blue, and the air smelled like cinnamon. Inside the precinct, at her desk, it was always dark and smelled like a gym locker. Maybe Maura was right, not that Jane would ever admit it to her. Seeing the sky, smelling the pastries and coffee and ripe peaches--maybe this was what Jane needed to crack the case. Maura took forever looking at all of the vegetables, as always, and Jane wandered away in a fit of boredom, returning with a cheap Red Sox onesie for Frankie's baby that made Maura mutter something under her breath about synthetic fabrics and infant skin. Jane didn't bother not to smile. It felt like old times, like maybe one day they'd get back to the banter and easy affection they'd used to have. Maura finally found some berries up to her standards and spent more money than even Jane expected her to, and Jane eventually had to drag her back to the car, because murder can only wait so long, after all. The sunshine and stone fruit and the hot, humid breezes of summer would all still be waiting for her once she'd solved this damn case.

So by (1) varying sentence length, (2) making things tied to specific memories and details, and comparing/contrasting with past experiences or current expectations, and (3) tying the entire situation into the broad tension of the scene/chapter/fic, we've been able to add a lot of liveliness, character depth, emotionality, and slow down the pace so that we're not rushing from one thing to the next.

What do you think? What do you all do to add life to your scenes?

[incorrect-koh-posts]

Hello I have a bit of a weird question here , well , do you think modern women or modern women we consider beautiful in our time now would be considered beautiful in the medieval times ? Let’s say conventionally attractive women of this time such as Tyla , Madison beer , Sabrina carpenter , women we agree all that they are beautiful, do you think they would be this appreciated in let’s say medieval Europe or the crusader kingdoms ? Thank you very much for reading and answering 💗

Hello, anon! Sorry for the extremely late reply 🙈

Ngl, I had to google these people because I had no idea who they are. So in case any of my readers are like me and lack a basic understanding of recent pop culture, here they are for reference:

All in all, medieval ideas of beauty were actually not very different from our present ones. Looking at descriptions of beautiful women in medieval European literature, we see that, in general, writers prized features that are symmetrical and signal youth and health - which also pretty much sums up our 21st-century understanding of feminine beauty. So it is likely that those we as a society consider beautiful would have elicited a similar reaction from Baldwin and his contemporaries. (Though I imagine they would have had a word or five to say about the future's skimpy clothing, and not only for reasons of modesty. Like, where are the swathes and swathes of luxurious fabric? Are we too poor to afford it?)

Of course, medieval and modern ideals differ in some particulars. As you asked specifically about medieval Europe and since the crusader kingdoms largely followed the customs & culture of the French court: Yes - to get the obvious out of the way - there was an emphasis on the whiteness of a woman's skin at the time. Which is here not only an issue of race (a whole 'nother can of worms to open) but also of class, as lighter skin would have been regarded as a signifier that the woman was (or looked like) a member of the nobility, who did not have to do physical labour in the fields etc. where the sun would have been beating down on her all day.

That said, there are examples of dark-skinned characters in medieval European texts who are described as beautiful, such as Queen Belacane in the early-13th-century German chivalric romance Parzival. However, I would be denying history if I didn't acknowledge that even these characters, sometimes subtly, sometimes considerably less so, tend to be presented as an Other. In Wolfram's Parzival, for example, Belacane's people are "liute vinster sô diu naht" ("people dark as the night", Parzival 17,24). She is thus deliberately constructed as the opposite of the European ideal of the courtly lady (Mieger 191), who tends to be described as things like "liehters denne der tac" and "touwegen rôsen" ("lighter than the day" and like a "dewy rose", Parzival 24,6 and 24,10).

I haven't found any specific research materials on beauty standards in the crusader states, but I'd imagine this might have been less of an issue there than in the more remote parts of Europe, given that the cultural melting pot of the Levant would have exposed its inhabitants on a daily basis to different ideas and ideals of beauty. First and foremost, in any case, would have come considerations of religion - a beautiful "heathen" would have had to be very appealing and otherwise virtuous indeed for a European writer to apply courtly adjectives to her, whereas a Christian woman, no matter the colour of her skin, would have been regarded a little more favourably (though again likely exoticised as an Other if she wasn't white).

What did European courtly culture consider appealing then, other than ominous "dewy roses"? As far as text sources go, medieval society liked women to have a slender figure, healthy but not too thin, with a small but full mouth, a well-formed, not too prominent nose, rather small feet and hands, a long elegant neck, and white and even teeth. Mathieu de Vendôme’s Ars versificatoria (late-twelfth century) uses the example of Helen of Troy as the epitome of beauty. His Helen has golden and free-flowing hair, a “Milky Way-white” forehead, black and separated eyebrows “like arches”, sparkling eyes “like stars”, rosy cheeks, a straight nose which is neither too flat or too large, rosy and delicate lips, straight teeth that are “whiter than ivory”, and firm, small breasts (da Soller 98).

Another interesting example is offered in a thirteenth-century Castilian translation of an Arabic folk story, La historia de la doncella Teodor: “the beautiful woman has eighteen signs: three long, three short, three small, three white, three black, and three red. three long: torso, neck, and fingers; three white: body, teeth, and white of the eyes; three black: hair, eyes, and eyebrows; three red: cheeks, lips, and gums; three small: mouth, nose, and feet; three wide: hips, shoulders, and forehead” (101).

So, going back to the three women you mentioned, I'd say they fit the medieval ideal pretty well. Though we prefer somewhat more prominent curves and probably slightly more striking facial features nowadays than our ancestors (as well as fortunately moving away from prizing only light skin), I think we do see here that the difference between medieval and modern isn't actually that large. There's still an undercurrent of kalokagathia in our society's thinking, i.e. the idea that outward beauty signals inner virtue (think, for instance, of the fact that our fictional villains tend to be conventionally unattractive as opposed to the usually attractive good guys).

All things considered though, I shall end this rambling lecture by saying that, ultimately, tastes differ, today as well as in the Middle Ages. It is understandable that you might wish to appeal to, say, your favourite medieval king, but after expounding at length on what's supposedly beautiful or not, let me remind you: As people (and especially women), we do not exist to be ogled and judged by others - you are valuable regardless of whether a particular person considers you beautiful or not. 💛

Sources:

da Soller, Claudio. "Beauty, Evolution, and Medieval Literature." Philosophy and Literature, vol. 34, 2010, pp. 95–111.

Mieger, Hannah. "Königin of Color – Belacane in Wolframs von Eschenbach Parzival als intersektionale Figur." Intersektionalität und erzählte Welten: literaturwissenschaftliche und literaturdidaktische Perspektiven, edited by Verónica Abrego, Ina Henke, Magdalena Kißling, Christina Lammer, Maria-Theresia Leuker, 2023, pp. 187-201.

[dual-domination]

I was reading the most recent chapter of In endless mist and rain, and I reread the tags for possible updates, but so far Weilanxie doesn't appear listed as a relationship, just its three side/inner ships. Avid fan here, I'll continue following the fic regardless of how the ships form or break up, but out of curiosity: does the lack of the Weilanxie tag indicate that there won't be a polyamorous relationship between them? Because despite the most recent events, I don't think this configures a love triangle in any way and the fic doesn't have the tag either. Can you talk a little about what to expect from the ships?

Even though the answer doesn't contain explicit spoilers, some parts are plot revelations in some way, so long text under the cut.

This is actually a very complicated question. Does this fic have polyamorous relationship? Off screen, if you count V shaped Xiao Hua/Hei Xiazi/Zhang Qiling, yet it’s only hinted that Xiao Hua is part of this relationship somehow/more than a friend, than yes - off screen because Xiao Hua doesn’t appear in any scene along with Xiazi and Xiaoge so far and as both Xiazi and Xiaoge are my characters, I’m not planning on having any scene like that, so it’s more a ‘their relationship may or may not be polyamorous/probably is platonic’ - is left for the reader’s taste and interpretation. Why am I including them in the answer of an ask about Weilanxie? Because Idk if having or not polyamory in a fic in general is the issue here or not.

We do have one(1) main character that is, in fact, polyamorous (the label never appears on screen, but the identity is there). One of them is not, like, definitely. We (me and @tazzy-ace) noticed a while ago that this character has the opposite feelings of a polyamorous person, yet he circumstantially finds himself in a very different mindset of a standard (western) monogamous person. I treasure the way I build my characters and I’m not willing to change him, so maybe he’ll end up being the the impeding factor of actual polyamorous relationship happening (or being the endgame here). We don’t have A THING outlined, we write out of vibes, this is how we made this fic work, so we don’t really know the ending of this. We have the goal of bringing a happy ending, and considering that this is a romantic story in the first place, a happy ending includes at least one ship staying together - will this happen? Maybe not, maybe the best ending for them will be to stay all apart (Eh, probably this won’t be the ending skjjsskj this is me being dramatic, but it’d be more likely to happen than the 3 of them ending in a polyamorous relationship). But what about a V shaped one? Not impossible, I’d say, exactly because the characters and the vibes both me and Deputy Chief have when writing new content for this fic is what decides the plot. So I don’t believe we’ll have the Weilanxie and the Happy Ending tags until the day we write the last chapter for real to know.

About the Love Triangle - elements of traditional love triangles such as rivalry, unrequited love and jealousy are not present in the story, we could say that no, it’s not a suitable tag/label. But in the sense that one of the characters will be somehow romantically involved with the two other ones for a while - which doesn't exactly constitute cheating, but I can't explain further without giving spoilers - so yes, somehow you could say that a love triangle exists. 

What to expect from the ships? Each one, you mean? Everything gets much worse before it gets any better, with all of them. With some, things get much worse more than once - we’re working hard to provide more Angst than we already had in this 125k posted.

Weilan and Shenxie share the place under the spotlight when it comes to ‘screentime’ and relationship development (or ruining relationship too kjssjjk). We didn’t make any of the relationships simple and if you thought that romance between one of the Guardian mains + any grave robber from DMBJ is already unlikely to happen/hard to develop with them being their canon selves, for canon reasons, believe me, we made it even harder. You can expect pain and smut. More pain than smut, I’m sorry. (Yet this fic is rated E and properly tagged about its sexual content, there’s not even one sex scene that happens for the sake of smut in itself, all sex is contextual and meaningful, no matter how horny it is, we put extra efforts in the emotional part of this).

Polyamory to be depicted as realistic, is a delicate thing, and as I said above, one of our main characters is not polyamorous, one of them is (and the third one ehh I won’t reveal rn), so you can expect to see both sides of it: someone comfortable about how he feels and how he sees his (supposed/potential) relationships, as well as someone who’s confused, trying his best, but in the end, really uncomfortable about the possibilities. No side/identity is portrayed as being better than the other, or as being more correct than the other. But the ‘polyamory is the solution for love triangles’ is definitely not what we want here. Because polyamory can’t be forced, being polyamorous is NOT a decision (if you’re queer, you know what I mean). At the same time we’ll have the picture of a polyamorous person being happy in a monogamous relationship (or with only one partner, if you prefer), we’ll have someone that doesn’t have as lifegoal a romantic relationship (except if it’s WITH ONE VERY SPECIFIC PERSON). Could he be read as aro? No. (But you can read him like that, if you want). His lack of romantic interest in general is part of his upbringing, the part of his culture that his life is based upon, and some more circumstances, but it’s not an identity. Could he be read as ace? A bit, but not really. Same explanation about the aro identity. We had long discussions about how these labels are useful HERE, but they wouldn’t be the case depending on a person’s culture and upbringing.

So yeah, this character that is not polyamorous won’t be labeled as this or that, he’s just himself, that’s all. I’ll leave to the readers to see what they want to see there in him (and please, don’t try to push on me - an ace and married person - this harmful idea that aro and/or ace people can’t/shouldn’t be in a romantic/sexual relationship).

All that said, this fic is not about polyamory, like some of my other fics and several of Tazzy's other fics. That's not part of the central themes, it's the identity of one of the main characters and may or may not influence (for better or worse) their relationships in the future.

[jackshiccup]

hey! i'm completely obsessed with your bound copy of otnwas and I'm currently planning to bind a copy of a different hijack fic for my dearest friend! (it is her favorite and she is the hiccup to my jack, lol). I've been picking my way slowly through the wonderful bookbinding sources you piled together in some of your posts and I was wondering if you could elaborate on how you created the beautiful cover? (the gorgeous title, the spine, design, corner covers). Thank you so much for sharing btw, you've blown me away with how beautiful it is!

aw hi, thanks so much !! :) truly there is no greater joy and love than gifting a friend a hand bound book of their favorite fic huh.. that's so sweet of u !!!! (i relate, am binding another one rn for some dear friends of mine 🥹) and yes i can totally explain, or try my best to!

for the cover design, i edit/make all my stuff in adobe illustrator but i drew the corner filigree (the fancy swirly things) on procreate first before transferring it to illustrator to do the rest of the cover design, playing around with resizing etc. (title + spine). i made sure that the canvas size (in mm) is the same as the cover so that the proportions were accurate. if you don't have illustrator i think canva might also work well? i've seen a lot of people use it!

for the foiling, i basically followed the simple but most time-consuming way which is to use a foil quill pen. i bought the standard tip (0.5) but i honestly should've bought the fine tip (0.38) bc there was so much detail i lost you just can't tell from the pics aksjdhaskj. i printed out the cover and spine true-to-size and just traced over it with the foil pen. i taped down the silver foil underneath and the printed cover on top so that nothing moves. don't lift up your foil or your paper until you've finished everything - things get really wonky because they tend to misalign if you do that (TAKE IT FROM MEEEE) you just have to trust that the foil transferred. the pen gets hot enough to transfer through the paper layer, though you do just have to press a little harder than you might usually have to or else it might not come through (the hand cramps i got from it... though it was worth it to me)

for the last step, once you've attached the cover to the text block and all that jazz - the silver book corners you can buy from amazon! make sure that it's in the same thickness as your cover board. mine was 0.3mm, so that's what i bought! you just attach it to the corner and press.

i wish i was one of those people who have those silly fancy machines that do all the foiling work for you but alas i don't have the money for that rn.. maybe in the future kjashdkjh if you don't mind me asking, i'd love to know which hijack fic ur friends loves ;u; anyway i hope your binding goes well, i'm glad i could help !! <3

[princessjojo-x]

AquariusVenus ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

💝 despite him appearing distant & unbothered, he needs just as much attention as his sister sign leo venus. he hates being ignored or forgotten, yet he will never tell you that, making him hard to read. he’s so good at hiding his attraction from her. he’ll watch her from afar for some time before making his move meanwhile she’ll be clueless of his interest.

💝 he is the “come & go, hot & cold” type. he’s known for being inconsistent in his displays of affection & attention. indicators of his interest are sporadic & confusing, ranging from acting like you doesn’t exist to wanting to hang out with you. others often think his feelings are unstable, but it isn’t abt feelings, it’s abt aquarians need to withdraw & be alone for some time. he’s often surprised why others view him as inconsistent when his love isn’t actually wavering, he just needs space to recharge himself mentally. he will come back eventually, acting as if nothing happened, technically nothing happened for him. this is just his default nature & more codependent types may find it offensive.

💝 he’s not quick to enter rxships & it takes a lot for him to fall in love. but once he’s eventually locked in there’s no going back. he’s a fixed venus sign after all so he has a tendency to stay in rxships even if they don’t serve him.

💝 he’s just as serious as capricorn but just as talkative as gemini. he’s great at communicating his wants & needs. but he can be somewhat critical when maintaining his strict boundaries & standards. also, he may express his feelings through late-night texts, sharing thoughts he might hesitate to say in person.

💝 others often feel comfortable opening up & revealing secrets to him bc he’s non-judgmental, openminded & unemotional.

💝 aquarius is ruled by uranus, which governs freedom & liberation. aquarius is abt being different & breaking boundaries. he may be very open minded in regards to his s3xuality.

Turn On’s & Off’s:

💝 he values an unbothered & nonchalant woman, whom has a collected temperament & the ability to detach. she is aloof, distant & unattainable. she doesn’t lose her cool in any way, shape or form. she knows how to regulate her emotions & thoughts, whilst viewing things from a logical perspective.

💝 for the sake of the rxship & your well-being, ensure to act less interested than he is, you have to be subtle & strategic with him. he hates when his love interest makes it too obvious she likes him. he feels like that restricts his freedom & the last thing he wants is to be trapped. if he realises she doesn’t want to take it slow & let him be free, then expect him to completely ghost! the tighter she holds him, the more he runs away. he perceives his partner acting too obsessed & mushy (especially early on) as cringey & suffocating. he’s completely turned off by neediness & insecurity so never attempt to tie him down! he wants what he cant have & he desires romance that is unattainable to him.

💝 emotional scenes & emotional outbursts from others scare him off. when emotions get too intense he tends to find the quickest escape plan. this explains why he’s perceived as cold-hearted.

💝 he dislikes bossy & demanding partners who put too much rules on him. if you even slightly try to control him, not only will be ghost you but he will completely rebel by doing exactly what you didn’t want him to do.

💝 he wants someone who doesn’t follow the crowd & is outside of the box. ensure to respect & admire his weirdness, call him unique & original, tell him he’s nothing like you’ve ever seen or will see again.

💝 to impress him, wear something that isn’t basic or trendy. dress authentic & unique as he thinks someone expressing themselves is the sexiest thing (chelsea lee art vibes). he doesn’t care abt matching colours or patterns. glasses, space buns, holographic boots, chipped nail polish.

💝 he’s often not interested in conventional rxships. he may enjoy quick flings or anything that is weird & interesting.

💝 aquarius is the ruler of 11th house, which is the house of friendship. he enjoys friendship based foundations & treats his lover like his best friend. he loves someone who can make him laugh & make him feel comfortable.

💝 all air venus’s like to be impressed intellectually.

[serinemisc]

@youzicha trimming a bunch of reblogs from Pointlessly Nonliteral Translation.

But I still don't like the two examples in my post above. It's admirable when somebody solves a difficult problem in a creative way, but producing "could mankind really be on the verge" is not difficult, you just look at the words in front of you. What made Woolsey so sure that what he writes is better than what the original author wrote? I guess what bugs me about this is that it is disrespectful, in the sense that he only does this because he doesn't respect the source text. If he was given a highbrow novel to translate he surely would not rewrite it, but he thinks this is schlock that doesn't matter. And yet, the game sold millions of copies, and we are still talking about it 30 years later—maybe it was not so insignificant after all.

I think the thing is the thing where you gotta unfocus your eyes and look at the big picture and not the sentences and words, you know?

I just got to a point in Honkai Star Rail where a guy is like "as a senior in the field, I'll give you some free advice" where something like "as the more experienced one" would have worked a lot better. This is the sort of thing that happens when you get too fixated on how to translate sempai (technically the Chinese xianbei but same thing).

I do understand that your point is "you can do a translation without adding in your own interpretation" but my point is that it's actually really hard to do that without making it sound awkward.

Speaking of Honkai Star Rail, it just translated " 'Kindness' is my pronoun" to " 'Kindness' is my middle name". I actually really like that one (Chinese doesn't have middle names). Uh, that wasn't relevant, I'm just playing Honkai Star Rail right now.

To be clear this was just an exercise for learning Japanese, it's not advice about how to do professional translation. But if you try, for most prose text I think it's quite possible to follow these rules and produce something that still sounds like natural English. I think that's a realistic standard to compare other translations against.

I presume you've read a translated light novel? Those read noticeably more awkwardly because they're usually closer or more literal translations. I would assume that avoiding that is the main reason most other translations take more liberties.

I think translated light novels are probably somewhere around the amount of literalism you prefer, so I just want to point out that I at least find them annoying to read in English, and that probably says something about general preferences.

(Why is a translated light novel more literal? My guess is because in a game, the thing you want to preserve is the plot, while in a book, )

To be clear, I definitely don't think that translating literally is obligatory or is an end in itself. I post about the virtues of literalism, but that's because I think the overall discourse is too one-sided and everyone takes it for granted that "literal is bad".

When I watch anime with friends, I like to infodump about the differences between the Japanese and the English subtitles, but usually, if I dislike something, it's usually an attempt to translate a word that could have better been done with a rephrase ("sempai" to "senior", very commonly). So while I agree that both extremes are bad, that informs which side I'm generally pushing for.

I think you sometimes overestimate how much impact the lack of a common ancestor language has, when something is maybe explained by a particular grammatical feature in isolation.

I mean, this is just my experience, finding sentence-for-sentence translations flow a lot better between Spanish and English, than between Japanese and English.

But yeah I dunno, it's not out of the question that my highest fluencies being in English/Japanese/Chinese makes me assume that something like English/German are more similar than they actually are. But I still feel like I'm right. Like, what PIE language would have a chart like this?

[imakemywings]

i hope you don't mind me asking, but i'm genuinely curious about how you perceive curufin and celebrimbor's relationship, like from aman to beleriand. honestly, every iteration of their bond, whether it's generational trauma (tough love) or the loving father-son is wonderful (and painful) because, for me, both fit them so much. sorry, i just love exploring their interactions (especially celebrimbor's relationship with his other uncles as well), they have me in a chokehold.

Don't apologize for giving me an excuse to talk about Elves, this is the Talking About Elves blog! (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

This is a juicy question! I am obsessed with family dynamics, so I always love considering things like this. First off, I think via canon there are almost infinite ways to interpret this relationship prior to Curufin's exile from Nargothrond. Some are, for me, more believable than others--for instance, I simply struggle to buy Curufin, son of Feanor, as a lovey-dovey father, but there's nothing in the text that strictly refutes it.

I think to start I need to talk briefly about Curufin's relationship with Feanor, because I think he tries (with varying degrees of success) to model much of what he does off of Feanor.

I think Curufin hero-worshipped Feanor growing up, and that didn't really change much into adulthood. He even went into his father's craft, the only one of Feanor's sons noted to do so. He looked a lot like Feanor, he followed his father's footsteps in career, and yet--we never hear of a single noteworthy invention or artistic piece of his. Curufin's name is on nothing. Feanor's inventions require an encyclopedia, and Celebrimbor's work survives well into the Third Age (and arguably into the Fourth), but Curufin? Nada.

And I think Feanor was a very difficult father. I don't want to get in here about whether he was a good father or not because this ask isn't about him, but I do think he was a demanding father. He was brilliant and incredibly driven, and I think he expected a lot from his sons. Add to that that he had seven kids and only so much attention to go around, and the best way to get his attention growing up was to have an achievement. Therefore, I think all seven of them developed some sense of needing to earn dad's attention.

All of this collectively to me ends with Curufin trying very hard to replicate Feanor, but not doing a very good job. Ergo, he was incredibly demanding on Celebrimbor, believing that the best way to handle a child was to raise them to exacting standards, tiger-mom style. But Celebrimbor is a very different person than Curufin, and would have thrived a lot more under a gentler hand. Nevertheless, I think he did try hard to live up to his father's standards--it's just that Curufin could actually end up being harsher than Feanor, which means Celebrimbor actually got less from his father than Curufin got from Feanor. There's also the element of Curufin wanting to use his son to impress his dad, which didn't help (still after daddy's attention after all).

I do think Celebrimbor bought pretty hard into the Feanorian Kool-Aid generally though. He was raised among people who were increasingly fanatical; it makes sense to me that he shared their mindset, because it was the one that surrounded him his whole youth. I think he was all on-board with the revolt of the Noldor, but I think the kinslaying at Alqualonde really gave him second thoughts.

Curufin, I think, has and develops a much more "the ends justify the means" attitude, as well as embracing the Feanorians' descent into darkness a lot quicker than, say, Maglor. But Celebrimbor doesn't quite. I think Alqualonde unsettles him quite a lot, as much as he tells himself it was a mistake, an accident, something that will never happen again.

So he lives with Celegorm and Curufin and busies himself making a life in Middle-earth. By this point in his life, I think Celebrimbor has grown to regret choosing smithing and jewel-craft as a focus, because he can't help but wonder if Curufin would be less strict if he'd gone into some field Curufin didn't really know anything about, which wasn't related at all to late granddad Feanor. (He also wonders if spending less time together wouldn't be better for his and Curufin's relationship.)

And then they go to Nargothrond.

More background: I do not think Celegorm and Curufin, the latter especially, like Finrod. I think generally the Feanorians find the Arafinweans preachy and sanctimonious, and very annoying. So having to go to him to ask for shelter and charity is incredibly grating on Curufin, and liable to make him particularly nasty to Finrod even as he's getting help from him.

However, Celebrimbor thinks Finrod is a delight! Finrod is so much that Curufin is not: cheerful, optimistic, gentle, quick to praise and slow to anger. And he loves playing the uncle, so he's more than happy to take Celebrimbor under his wing a bit and get him settled in Nargothrond. In turn, Celebrimbor warms right up to him and is eager to show Finrod anything he's working on, because Finrod will find something nice to say about even his worst projects. Celebrimbor thrives in an encouraging atmosphere, and he gets from Finrod what he always wanted from Curufin. It has the effect of rousing some old childhood resentment about his dad's seeming inability to be nicer.

Curufin does not approve of Celebrimbor getting "too close" to Finrod. He gets nastier in response.

I think Celebrimbor disapproved of his father and uncle's behavior long before they were officially exiled. I think watching Curufin interact with Finrod revealed to Celebrimbor things about his father he had never wanted to know, like how petty and childish and cruel Curufin can be. And I think Celebrimbor was embarrassed to watch his father behave this way towards someone who had been so generous with them, even in spite of his rocky past relationship with Curufin.

So I think even before Beren showed up, Celebrimbor was reconsidering his relationship with Curufin, and while I think he kept a lot of these thoughts to himself as he was mulling it over, there was chafing in that relationship, but Curufin blamed Finrod and didn't take it seriously.

So when Curufin supports Celegorm in turning Nargothrond against Finrod and sending him out to certain death, after everything Finrod had done for them, I think Celebrimbor was not only horrified, he grieved. He loved Finrod! And I think he was disgusted that Curufin would support Celegorm's plan to force Luthien to marry him, and that they lied to her and imprisoned her.

The events of Nargothrond revealed just how low Curufin could go (and ofc it does get worse later, with the Second Kinslaying and the additional attempts to murder Beren and Luthien) and Celebrimbor realized that far from repenting for the First Kinslaying, Curufin seemed even less moored to any kind of moral code. So I think here he realized he simply could not go along with his father or his uncle anymore. At some point you have to ask yourself about the kind of people you want to surround yourself with, and I think Celebrimbor wanted nothing to do with them anymore. I think it hurt him, to think people he loved were they sorts of people, and I think he was crushingly disappointed in both of them, but particularly after Finrod's grisly death (along with the Elves who had stuck by his side), I think Celebrimbor simply could not justify standing by Curufin's side anymore, and the fact that Curufin never expressed any regret for what he had done contributed to that.

Feanorians barred from rebirth etc. but even if they were not, I do not believe a reborn Celebrimbor has a lot to say to his paternal family. He watched them only get worse from the point where he had disowned them, and I think by the time they're all gone, they disgust and horrify him so much that he really does not want to interact with them at all. I think he would go full no-contact if they were ever around each other again, and at best might accept a profuse apology for all the things they did. Even if they were committed to being better, at that point I'm just not sure there's any relationship there left to rebuild. I think they burned that bridge with him and there's no building it back. Civil distance is as much as they can probably hope for.

So yeah, these are my general baseline thoughts on it!

[rockerscentral]

ROCKERSCENTRAL MASTERPOST🎸

(A rockers-related Rhythm Heaven ask blog!)

Info can be found under the line break.

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The Basics: (or the General Info)

This blog serves to be a more creative way for me to share all of the ideas that I had planned out for the Rockers, along with some other guys, mainly following a story-esque format that follows their "backstory" and how they had originally met up to become the well known rock duo they are now!

Following up on the text above, just to clarify and put it straight, the blog will not start out with the both of them right away, and will likely follow the perspective of one or the other.

While there will be art for a bunch of the asks, especially for standard posts that are needed to progress the story, I cannot guarantee that there will be something drawn for each ask, though I do wish to try and do so. That applies to whether it's a colored sketch, actual drawing, a simple doodle, etc.

Some characters may have different names than some that may be commonly used as a fan-name from the fandom, the main case of this going to Student (name being Jamie.)

This whole blog's going to be a headcanon fest, considering how a majority of this is me making shit up for the most part, so please keep that in mind if you see different portrayals for one thing or another.

Additional Notes:

If you are running another character-based blog, it is completely alright to interact with this account! Just keep in mind that this is technically taking place in the past, which means that any asks that are sent that mention anything that could be in regards to any present matters /foreshadows anything about the Rockers will likely be ignored.

While it may not be prevalent for the long run start of this blog, I do ship the Rockers together, and would probably come up at some point very later on when the time comes, so be weary of that if you don't like the ship and such.

This blog is only being run by me, myself and I ( @submaskudari ), so things might be a bit slow depending on the situation.

I will also answer asks that are out of character for those who wish to know anything from me specifically ^_^

Unless there is only one character that's available for asks, please specify who you are sending an ask towards, otherwise it may be pushed back out of confusion.

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Blog Rules:

Don't be a weirdo in the asks LOL

NO METAGAMING.. I have no idea how that'd play out anyways, but this still applies :sob:

Try not to spam the ask box, or be repetitive with asks.. I'm just one guy, and sometimes it might take a moment to spot it.

Transphobia, Homophobia, Racism, Proship, and all of the other bad shit is not welcome here, so please see yourself out if you fall under said criteria.

Please be kind!! I am just a little guy, again.

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Tags:

# (insert character name) + ask: Asks that are directed to said character #main art reblog: main blog posts that either feature Rockers/ Blog-related content. #refs: Simply the refs I work off of for the characters I draw here. # (insert tumblr user here): Asks sent by said user/blog. #asks: Ask posts in general. #ooc ask: Asks that are related to the blog, but are directed to the blog owner (me) rather than an ic ask for the characters. #masterpost: what do you think LOL #sillyart: probably gonna be labled under shitposts or verrry bad doodles, just goofing around! #rockerscentral: tag for chrono-order posts, asks or non asks

#djschoolcentral: april fools posts (chrono order, too)

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This will be updated time from time as the blog progresses, rather it'd be for rule additions or something else. If anything, I'm probably going to add a blog Q&A for any additional questions that anyone may have, so feel free to ask!

[boofindoopin]

I really hate it when people act like it’s a crime that I/a lot of other Greek myth lovers think that PJO/HOO/TOA aren’t good Greek myth adaptations.

People have different opinions, and I’m all for that! I chose to be a fucking Ares stan, I’m use to having “weird” opinions. But, it’s really silly to get like ACTUALLY mad at someone for having a different opinion then you.

I personally think that the PJO franchise fell into the same thing that a lot of popular media does to the Greek gods, and they are as followings.

Ares is big, scary, evil, misogynistic dude bro

Aphrodite is a hoe!

Underworld gods are mean and scary oOoOh

And to all the people that are like “Hades got better!” Not by much!! Still a sucky ass dad :(

The other Greek gods ALSO got reduced like, they painted Zues and Hera as one dimensional evil villains, Athena as this cool person who is better at war than Ares, and every else in the standard ones!

And I’m not saying that you can’t like this series, go ahead and love all your heart out! I personally love some of the characters Rick made (my grievances with some characters would take up a whole two posts).

Also if you are trying to get into Greek mythology, and your learning through those series,I’m so so SO proud of you for learning about other peoples culture/history. Just make sure to do some read historical texts as well.

But, if you read the series and think your a myth expert, chances are you probably aren’t. It’s ok to learn from those things, thats how I got into this! But, please don’t act like you know more than someone who devoted their time to be good at it.

Just please, for the love of all that is good in this life, don’t fight Greek myth fans for pointing out the flaws in the PJO myths, and don’t fight us for not thinking it’s the best retelling