#the lighting in The Fall is really hard to emulate <(＿ ＿)>

[jellabean22]

Happy Birthday Asmo! <3

Me and Asmo share a birthweek! Exactly 7 days apart. I think he would totally want to celebrate together lol

no-sash ver. under the cut

Matching outfits with Asmo is so cute

[rxttenfish]

definitely going to try to describe this scene as best as possible, but also i dont know if this specific fact is going to make it into caecilian, so im posting it here for my peace of mind.

miranda's above-water bedroom has a lot of natural stone in it and water features and generally looks startlingly naturalistic compared to the rest of her castle. her bed is also within one of those little special nooks that really big aquariums have sometimes where it's just a sitting area with the glass above you so it feels like you're underwater, like a shark tunnel. her bed itself is entirely dry but it looks really very much like a themed area in an aquarium for how much it focuses on trying to emulate the sense of being underwater.

the reason for this is because a lot of merfolk circadian rhythm isn't really tied to light per se, but rather has to do with small changes in currents and the water column to help them manage their sleep/wake cycles.

as you can imagine, miranda isn't getting any of these small changes on land. they only really exist in the ocean, and she has some pretty severe insomnia relating to how hard it is to get her brain to "turn off" when it's supposed to, ie, at night when she's supposed to sleep with the rest of the landfolk. this is compounded even further with the lack of any other natural "tells" for where she's lived her entire life and where she feels instinctively comfortable, so she even moreso ends up staying wide awake because she doesn't feel like she's in the right place to fall asleep or rest.

the merkingdom has two solutions to this. the first is a chain of what's basically fairy lights installed around her bed, which are designed to blink in a dull blue light in very specific patterns. it's only really specific to miranda because she's an abyssal, as these fairy lights are made to closely mimic the bioluminescence of other abyssal merfolk, blinking in the particular pattern for "this is a safe place, you are safe, you have someone watching over you, you can relax."

the second is trying to make the places where miranda sleeps above-water look as close to the ocean as possible and to try and trick miranda's subconscious into thinking she's underwater. it's a bit like the mental effect of sticking a human in a space shuttle - if there's just metal and plastic and no plants or sunlight around, human psychology tends to get a lot stir-crazy and have a hard time relaxing. if miranda feels like she's underwater, even when she's not, then her brain has an easier time relaxing and letting her go to sleep and lessens the prolonged psychological effects she gets from staying inland too long.

[toms-cherry-trees]

Once I Was || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy had you, then he didn't anymore. You have broken free but he can't let you go  

Word Count: 2357

Warnings: None really. Tommy being an ass but that is not new

Author’s note: This is exclusively from Tommy’s POV. You know the drill and many of you will recognise the song that this is based on you don't need me explaining it  

Blending in had never been one of Tommy’s fortes. There was something in him that made him stand out wherever he went. His stance maybe, overcoming and intimidating; he exuded power and ostentation. Mayhaps it was his uncommon attractiveness, the sharpness of the jaw or the blueness of his eyes. Or perhaps it was the fact that he always seemed to be plotting something dangerous.

But now more than ever he needed to blend in. His clothes were poorly made, something a mother or wife would sew at home rather than tailor made as usual. They didn’t quite fit him properly, the pants too long and the coat sleeves too loose. Several empty glasses littered the table before him. His cap so drawn over his eyes he could barely see. His jaw so tense that five cigarettes had made it to his lips, only to be snapped in two by his teeth.

Every Saturday he repeated the same routine. Dress as common and plain as he could, take up the most secluded table in the London dance club, and drown in as many glasses of whiskey as the table could hold. He always picked the corner table with the malfunctioning light. The waiters always offered to switch him to somewhere better but he refused. He didn’t go there to be seen, he went there to see something. Or rather someone.

That night you wore white. Oh, how unbelievably gorgeous you looked in white. The straps of the frock wrapped around your neck and crossed at the back. The front hemline reached just below your knees, and the back nearly touched the floor. Your hair pinned up, with that coquettish strand falling on the side of your face. Sparkling with jewels, but Tommy only noticed the glimmering ruby in the ring finger of your left hand. Big and eye-catching, a golden band with the gemstone surrounded by gold petals emulating a rose. All that time together, and your man hadn’t yet learned you preferred silver to gold, green over red, and not shunning the beauty of roses, you had always favoured carnations more.

By your side stood a man, tall and proud, his arm around your waist as he led you to the dancefloor. He looked proud and smug, triumphant in showing off the magnificent specimen of a woman that accompanied him that night, and every night they went to that club. Every Saturday, at 9 pm, he drank whiskey with water and you had a glass of champagne, maybe two, before spending the entire night on the dancefloor, delirious with joy and love.

Tommy had never taken you out to dance.

Tommy still reminisced of the times when he had you on his arm; when your eyes stared at him with adoration, as if he held your whole world in his coarse palm. Tommy always thought you loved too hard; felt every emotion as if you were one of the leading damsels from those silly romance novels you kept in your nightstand. Oh, how late he realised he should have cherished your love more, for he would sorely feel its absence once he no longer possessed it.

Tommy knew you loved horses, so he took you to the races many times, whenever he had business to attend. But you always looked bored and dejected, and more than once left before him. Tommy thought simply you didn’t enjoy seeing horses compete that way. Only when he saw you with his own eyes in the stands with that man Tommy understood that you loved races, but wanted to enjoy them with someone. He saw you nearly jump from the seat, your bet ticket clasped tightly in your fist as the race began; Tommy knew you’d lose your money. You always had a tender heart for lost causes and had surely laid a bet on the horse with the lowest chance.

You had also laid a bet on Tommy’s lost cause, and you had both lost in the end.

You loved cooking for him, even though the kitchen had never been your forte. Tommy couldn’t understand your eagerness in purchasing cooking books and testing new recipes for him, when he had the money to eat in a new restaurant every night, or hiring a cook for your needs. But not even the best foods in the world tasted like the dishes you spent hours carefully preparing for him, served in plain dishware in your modest dining room. He could have appreciated more every little cut and burn you got trying to please him, but instead brushed off your efforts.

Surely you now cooked for him, with your silly flowery aprons tied about the waist and calling him every five minutes to the kitchen to try the soup until it tasted nothing but perfect, holding the wooden spoon to his lips and blowing on the food so he wouldn’t get burned; your brows furrowed and your nose scrunched in anticipation as you waited for approval.

The smallest demonstrations of affection were the ones that brought you the greatest pleasure. Tommy thought it adorable at first, the way you always reached to hold his hand, or felt the need to kiss his cheek every now and then for no reason when you were in public. Caressing his knuckles or laying your hand on his leg. Tommy grew to find your actions irritating and childish, the need to always hold onto someone as if you needed a support person at all times. Only too late he came to understand that you only wanted to feel him close, and to show him with actions what you didn’t always say with words.

Leaving Tommy small, handwritten notes between his work papers, or tucked in the pockets of his coats and pants. More than once Tommy had gotten upset over you messing up his paperwork, or complained over the embarrassment he felt when a note fell from his pocket unnoticed and an important business partner picked it up, handing it back to him with a cunning smirk. You stopped leaving notes after that.

After you left him, Tommy spent days rummaging his desk and raiding his closet, hoping to find any note, forgotten by time and distance, anything to tell him that you loved him still, and this was no more than a test of his will. But there were no notes to find.

The day you walked away, Tommy didn’t bother to go after you, believing it to be another of the tantrums you had been throwing lately. He had a busy day, and figured you’d be at home by the end of the night, sulking in the gardens or buried in a book, ignoring him until he rewarded you with a kiss and some passion. But the house was empty, and your belongings gone, minus a silver necklace he had given you many moons ago, a little heart with his initials engraved in the back. He found the jewel in the hallway, with the clasp broken, as if hastily ripped off and thrown away during your departure.

Tommy waited it out three days before sending his men to inquire about your whereabouts. Finding you was exceedingly easy; Tommy’s own driver had taken you to the train station, and from there, showing your picture around, they were able to find you in Leeds. In just those three days, you had secured room in a boarding house and had landed a job as a cashier in an apothecary. The three days it had taken him to go after you had been enough for you to erase Thomas Shelby from your life.

Tommy still refused to believe it, even after you told him exactly that right at his face, one rainy Sunday after he intercepted you on your way home from the market. He pulled you into his car by the sleeve, covering your mouth with his gloved hand like a kidnapper. The right hook you delivered to his jaw didn’t shake him as much as the storm of profanities and screams you pelted upon him, mixed with your own tears of sadness and rage. Thomas couldn’t quite understand the source of your anger; he had loved you well enough, but it seemed you only wanted more and more. In the end, he kicked you out of his car and back into the pouring rain, saying you were too demanding and had unrealistic expectations of life. You counterattacked saying you felt sorry for him, for he didn’t know how to love or care for someone other than himself, and you prayed he wouldn’t end his days alone, regretting his mistakes and having no one to weep at his grave.

Tommy used every fibre of his being to forget you, but he lacked the strength to let you go, despite the harsh words he gave you in your last encounter. He always thought his life to be grim, but now that you were gone, he realised his life had been full of colours he had been too blind to see until now that he had been plunged back into the true darkness. He craved back every kiss, every brush of your hand, every homemade dish and every silly letter. He ached to feel your body snuggled against his back in bed, even though he more than once complained that the proximity made him too hot and didn’t allow him to move freely, or that your hair got into his mouth.

Very deep down, he still kept the hopes of your returning. Just like every lost cause you picked up, maybe you’d have a change of heart and decide to put your last coin in that walking disaster of a man. He would even settle for something as simple and superficial as calling to inquire about him, sharing banal pleasantries while Tommy strained every fibre of himself to pretend he didn’t want to drop to his knees and beg for your forgiveness.

If he couldn’t get your love, he would be satisfied with your pity.

But all hope was shattered when he saw you again about a year later. One rainy autumn evening, he had just left Ada’s place and was about to mount his car when he saw you. Long coat, brown boots, a matching beret. A man by your side, his arm in your back and holding the umbrella for you. He whispered something in your ear and you giggled, replying with a tender kiss to his lips. Fifty feet behind you, Tommy stood under the pouring rain, feeling his body freezing down to the last nerve, and the blood in his veins turning to ice. He did not move until you disappeared from view into a taxi. In that second business became a secondary priority. He got in his car and followed you around London. From different shops to a small restaurant and then the theatre. Two hours he sat outside, nursing his aching heart in his chest and a Colt in his hands, a bullet in the chamber and his finger in the trigger. He didn’t have a plan, nor any logical thought running through his brain; only the knowledge that his girl sat inside the theatre with another man, and soon said man would have his brains splattered through the pavement.

As soon as you two left the theatre, walking hand in hand, Tommy followed suit, keeping a safe distance and his gun readied like a hunter on a chase. He stalked you across half the city, until the man dropped you off at the entrance of a small hotel; you sent him away with a long kiss, and he in return kissed each one of your knuckles before letting you go. Tommy had him right in his line of view, within perfect shot. No one walked the street at the time and some street lights malfunctioned, giving him the perfect cloak of darkness. All he had to do was aim and…and nothing happened. His index shook in the trigger, pulled almost all the way back, but Tommy couldn’t breach that last millimetre. That miniscule space that made the difference between a killer and a somewhat decent man. He could shoot men for sport but…

But seeing the way you looked at him, seeing the way he treated you. It felt like an awakening, a dawning of realisation that this man, this nobody who didn’t even deserve the ground you stepped on, could probably love you better than he ever did. In just one evening he had fulfilled every task Tommy never could. Took you out to the things you liked, and showed his love to the world without shame. He didn’t recoil from holding your hand, didn’t roll his eyes when you kissed his cheek, and had not left you alone halfway through the play because he had more important business to attend to. A man who could make you happy the way he should have done when he was your man.

But he no longer was your man. Tommy had turned into a ghost of the past, his memory fading more and more with each passing day, until he would one day become just a distant memory, one that wouldn’t be recalled back. Tommy could only hope you would remember him one day with kindness, or pity, or the gentle fondness of sweet moments now soured on. A fleeting thought easily dissipated by the newer memories with the man who had taken his spot. A man who lived that night only because, in his own twisted and broken way, Tommy loved you still, and did so enough to let you be happy with a man who was not himself.

And so he sat, every Saturday at 9 in the same club, watching the life he could have had if he had been different. If he had cherished what he had while it lasted. Another hand now held your waist and another lips laid upon your own, drinking on the nectar of your love while he shattered and fell apart bit by bit.

He should have taken you out to dance.

[rottenshotgungames]

No more waiting, let’s talk about what y’all are here to see

Footfall Devlog 4

This Devlog will be covering the basics of what Footfall is and the challenges of making a game so heavily inspired by immersive sims.

So, without further ado:

What is Footfall?

Footfall is an occult-industrial stealth-action rpg inspired by Dishonored and Mistborn. It aims to emulate the systemic ecosystem and emergent gameplay of immersive sims, particularly the fast, creative, movement-centric gameplay of Dishonored.

If this sounds interesting to you, the free playtest is live! You can find it on itch at https://rotten-shotgun-games.itch.io/footfall-playtest

Genre Convention

If you’re interested in Footfall I assume that you’ve played stealth-action games before: Dishonored, Assassin’s Creed, Gloomwood, Sekiro, Metro, etc. If you have, you know that there are generally two categories of stealth mechanics present in any given game

Player tools & indicators (e.g. Thief’s light gem, Dishonored’s stealth kills)

Enemy AI (e.g. The xenomorph in ALIEN: Isolation changing up their search patterns based upon your actions)

These two categories are mostly separated by longevity. Player tools and indicators focus very much on short term actions and consequences that influence the long term consequences of the enemy AI—I’m including the state of unconsciousness or death as a “long term consequence.” Because the first category tends to (mechanically) impact the second more than vice versa—and because this would be a VERY long essay if I talked about both in detail—we’re gonna be covering the player side of stealth today.

The Indicators

An Indicator in a stealth game informs the player when they’ve been spotted and/or how close they are to being spotted. Some stealth games have a few Indicators that track or reveal different things (e.g. The three lightning bolts in Dishonored tell you how aware a certain enemy is toward your presence and location, and the upgraded Dark Vision lets you see enemy Vision Cones, and guards will yelp and say things when they see a body you left behind. All three of these are Indicators). There are two general categories that Indicators fall into:

Hard Indicators—distinct visual trackers, particularly a UI element (e.g. the motion tracker in ALIEN: Isolation).

Soft Indicators—Narrative elements that convey information in a manner that is less precise than Hard Indicators (e.g. the sound made by your actions in AMNESIA: The Bunker).

While most videogames with a stealth mechanic incorporate both kinds of Indicator to some extent, TTRPGs are a bit different. The more tactical subset of this medium often attempts to provide player characters with a plethora of options for solving problems and overcoming tasks, among these being stealth—but almost every one of these games uses solely Soft Indicators. What do I mean by this? Well, think about D&D 5e’s stealth: D&D has no facing rules, no rising gauge of enemy awareness—hell the only semi-Hard indicator is light level, but that’s pointless because of the non-rarity of Dark Vision. There’s exactly two TTRPGs that I can think of which contain Hard Indicators, that being Blades in The Dark and Black Seven (both of which are really cool) but their indicators are both more long-term and therefore fall into my arbitrarily designated Enemy AI portion of stealth mechanics.

Hard Indicators are crucial to giving the player a sense of control in a stealth game, watching the numbers go up and down in direct response to your actions is the foundation of the experience (and just failing one Stealth check as a transition into full-blown combat discourages wide-spread use of stealth anyway). I decided to include two major Hard Indicators in Footfall:

Facing. This one was a no-brainer, Footfall already has a physics engine that would massively benefit from facing rules, it’s no huge leap to describe how your facing impacts your Line of Sight.

Notice. Notice is a riff on the classic stealth tracker (e.g. Dishonored’s lightning bolts, Gloomwood’s huntsman eye colors) that measures how aware nearby enemies are to your presence and actions, combined with the player-centric elements of THIEF’s light gem. This has led to a more generalized resource, measuring the awareness of all nearby enemies, influenced almost entirely by the individual player’s actions. It ranges from 0 (unnoticed) to 3 (spotted).

A consistent question I’ve gotten asked is, “Why did you make Notice a player resource, rather than something tracked by individual enemies?” Firstly, tracking that kind of resource on an enemy-by-enemy basis is hellish for a GM. Secondly, and possibly even more importantly, making Notice a player resource makes it feel like they have control over their own ability to stay hidden. If it’s a number ticking up and down on their character sheet, then it’s something they’ll pay more attention to and attempt to exercise control over/capitalize upon more readily . . . so long as they have the tools to do so, of course.

Tools

There are, generally speaking, two types of stealth-interactive tools:

Maintaining tools

Capitalizing tools

Maintaining tools help you to maintain or regain your hidden status. Think the lockers in Outcast or crouching in everything. These tools make stealth feel interactive and . . . well, functional. If you don’t have the basic ability to hide, how are you supposed to engage with stealth gameplay? The balancing act with Maintaining tools is in making them strong enough that Stealth feels viable, but not so powerful that the game becomes too easy or other options are immediately discarded. These take quite a few forms in Footfall, the most basic being Line of Sight and environmental interactions (e.g. Cover, Hidden Terrain, Darkness) that prevent you from needing to make a Stealth check or slowly reduce Notice over time. Some Gifted powers are also categorized as maintaining tools, particularly the base powers of Passage, Possession, and Shadows.

Capitalizing tools allow you to take advantage of your hidden status. The most common example is the Stealth kill/knock out. Capitalizing tools make stealth feel worth it, they’re a reward for engaging in this style of gameplay. In Footfall the only explicit Capitalizing Tool is the Coup de Grace, an enhanced Attack that’s far more likely to kill/knock out your opponent in one blow; however there are a million-and-one other reasons to maintain stealth, such as the danger of direct combat, the increased freedom of power usage, the penalties from Enemy Awareness, and the Downtime penalties from killing people (some of this will be covered in the next Devlog).

This brings us around to an underrated topic when discussing Stealth TTRPGs:

Centralization

We can talk all we want about the conventions of the Stealth genre, about the specific implementations of common mechanics and mechanical types, but it’ll only ever be useful insofar that such mechanical theory informs how players interact with the game.

The end-goal here is centralization. Your stealth mechanics, where they do exist, need to impact and influence every part of rules and play. Even if your players aren’t engaged in Stealth, that decision needs to be put in context of and conversation with Stealth gameplay.

If I’m not constantly thinking about the light I’m in and the sound I’m making, I’m not playing Thief.

If I’m not constantly working to get to higher ground and hidden terrain so that I can ambush enemies, I’m not playing Assassin’s Creed.

If I’m not thinking in relation to Stealth, I’m not playing a Stealth game.

Self Promo

Hey y’all, sorry about the long wait on this one. The playtest is finally public, and we’re halfway through talking about stealth! The next devlog is gonna be about Enemies, which are a whole can of worms.

If you wanna check out my other games, and get updated when major changes come to the Footfall playtest, follow me on Itch! If you're just looking for more Footfall status updates, or want to have an impact on the design, you can always join my public Discord. If you want more devlogs, and more rpg design talk, follow me here or on twitter.

Have a great night and a great day.

[cbedfordart]

Hey! I’ve been following you for a while and I really love your art, it’s absolutely stunning and I love the way you paint and capture anatomy. I know this is a bit of a broad question but I was wondering if you had any tips on getting better at painting digitally and studying anatomy, maybe more specifically blending, colour picking, and structuring anatomy in a way that looks somewhat realistic?

Thanks and I'm glad you enjoy my work long enough to be following me for this long! I definitely love drawing a naked body that's for sure haha. In terms of tips for getting better there's a few things I can mention but it's going to fall broadly in the general answer of "study", because this is the most sure fire way to be able to understand what it is you're trying to emulate in your art. There are different ways to study, and they teach something slightly different. For example, doing studies from life (live drawing classes) help me understand movement in a way studying from a photograph cant, simply because you're seeing the same model in different poses in real time, you can see how the fat and muscle moves around as they shift to different positions. So they're not technically moving the whole time, but you're still seeing some movement there, and understanding what sticks to what while it rotates and bends. Studying from photographs can help give you time to do some real deep dives and investigate where different bones/muscles sit while someone is in a particular position. There's also the opportunity for understanding how shadows may be formed by the body as typically photographers are more conscious of how the subject may be lit than what may be available in a live drawing class. Beware though, as more things are photoshopped than you realise, not all photos represent reality. Especially glam and fashion photos. It doesn't mean its bad to want to have these effects on your work but just be conscious they might not always be anatomy accurate if that's what you're striving for. I sometimes make a conscious decision to go against what is anatomically correct for a certain effect myself. A book I have been recommending for years for anatomy is Dr. Paul RIcher's "Artistic Anatomy". It's great for understanding muscle structure intimately - it's designed specifically for artists, but with the idea of trying to stylise the diagrams as little as possible for the sake of understanding the human form. There's a lot of great info and detail in here, but beware, there is not a lot of variety in body structure (at least not in the edition I have which is missing female anatomy I think already so I'm not sure what else I don't have in here). So you'll be able to understand function a lot from here but you wont be able to learn a lot about fatter body types sadly.

Colour picking is probably the most difficult for me to explain easily, as I have spent a long time winging it, then studying it, then being really experimental with it. I could write a lot a lot about this but to spare making this post any longer I'll refer to another fun book just for getting started on some frequent and common terms called "Color and Light" by James Gurney.

I also love that he uses like, dinosaurs for everything in here lol. It's a great starting point that can give you some go to ideas that you can then experiment from there. It's not very authoritarian (or at least that's what I feel), and doesn't push anything forward as a hard and fast rule, just showing what affects some colour combinations might instil in someone.

As a whole, I've gotten better at painting digitally by studying traditional painting techniques. They theories are basically transferrable one to one with some few exceptions. I tend to blend my colours by simply using a soft round brush in Photoshop with a low opacity. Much the same way I would with a real canvas, with a large round brush and diluted colour. I hope this answers your questions in some way. I tried to be not too specific only because this answer would be at least another 30k words lol because this is something i think a lot about! I love technique! If I ever stream again, feel free to pop in and ask more questions where I might be able to show some stuff in real time! Not sure when that will happen though!

Also the way i do stuff isn't a "correct" way either. I like painting from imagination so this is how I make that work. Some people like to only work with references for every piece, and that is a completely legit way to create stunning art as well. Good luck!

[ventique18]

Our Dirty Little Secret (3)

And I will drip every single drop on my tongue, drunk on the addicting nectar of your love for me.

To invite you to the madness that you trap me in.

The third part of a MalleYuu smutfic. Part 1 link | Part 2 link

General warnings: Malleus x Freeform Reader♀️, story told in his POV. Part of a smut series, so minors do not read this fic.

Chapter warnings: 69, vaginal sex

Content under the cut

"I will taste you while you serve my other one. Come lay on me."

And I lay on the bed as I wait on you, eager to taste the ripened arousal you have been dripping on the floor.

Like an obedient little kitten, you climb on the bed. Cheeks shy. Chest puffing. An adorable thing approaching me with tiny, hesitant stampings. You perch on my lap and balance your hands on my shoulder.

"Before that," Your voice trails as you peer at my face, "Can I ask you something?"

"Burning with questions, are we not? Very well." I fix you in a more comfortable position before patting your thigh as a go-ahead signal.

You hesitate for a second. You try hard not to, but you look at it anyway. Down there.

"Why do you have...two? Sorry if that sounds offensive, I'm not really familiar with this world's races."

"Not a problem. The mainspring of genius is curiosity." I flash a smile before my eyes drift to the left-side of my room; to that corner where a grotesque of my ancient race sit unmoving. "You may have already observed as such from the short while you have been here, but my particular species of fae-- the dragon fae, are exceedingly rare. Our method of breeding is terribly specific, you see. It's quite common for one of us to only mate with one individual for the rest of our lives."

As much as we would have wished to repopulate our numbers, it is impossible to hatch a wyrmling with hate or indifference. If there is no love for the child, it will simply not grow. Thus, our kind needs to fall in love in the most genuine sense for us to even desire to create and nurture a child of our own-- for us to imbue an egg with magic blessed with nothing but love and hopeful wishes.

I continue with my explanation, "When a phallus is in its refractory period, the other one aids as a substitute. For the male to breed as long as his stamina allows, in summary."

"I see..." You reply, "Then, what happens to your... um, fake? Thing?"

"Fake? Quite rude, dear. I've spent years and years researching and emulating every minute function of you children of men's reproductive organs." I laugh at your flustered face. With a grin, I prop an arm on my knee and lean on a palm, "It's as genuine as it gets. Much like how this body is something I consider as myself, though I was not born into the world looking like this."

Though I intended for our impromptu class to be that of a light-hearted segue, still you look into my eyes with all the seriousness in the world. As if all your senses are captivated by me. I brush the back of my hand against your cheek and you nuzzle against it.

"Though if this... this oddity makes you uncomfortable, you need only tell. I am happy simply being with you, no matter which appearance I need to take. I only wish to avoid keeping secrets from you."

You grasp my hand with both of yours, and I feel a smile against my skin as you give it a tender kiss. Then your face drifts to mine; the air between us tense as I breathe in your scent, and your lips ghost over mine with the slightest of movements. Your soft fingers cup my cheeks as you whisper, "And I am happy just being with you. I want both of us to be happy, so..." You brush back the hair on my forehead and gave it a peck. One here, one there, until they turn into fluttering kisses that ended at the base of a horn.

"You just be who you want to be. One, two... it's fine." You lift my head and stare deep into my eyes, "We'll work with what we feel at the moment, okay?"

I breathe you in for a while, unmoving. Breathe in, breathe out. I appreciate every bit of you; your gentle touch, your faint smell, your slight sounds. Your lovely appearance. Unmatched.

In a heartbeat, I lay myself comfortably on the bed with you seated on my stomach. You are a tad surprised at the sudden shift in position, so I take advantage of your dawdle and pull your hip to my face.

"Hey, what-- mph!"

The sound of hands clapping over mouth rings crisp through the room. Only for a second, however, for the faint but audible lapping of your wetness on my mouth overwhelms all of our senses. A naughty tongue twisting and turning, pressing hard against your soft folds, crawling down and teasingly dipping into your hole before retreating. I feel you lose your balance so I hold onto your waist with a firm grip. A clammy palm leans against my abdomen. A little suck and a little scrape of my fang, and you tremble again.

"Stop it!"

I halt at your distressed voice, suddenly agitated, "Sorry--"

"No, no," You breathe out shakily, "I'm fine, just..."

With wobbly legs and tremulous arms as leverage, you extract yourself from me. I watch motionless as legs and arms fumble over me, until eventually you, well, you plop your buttocks on my chest. Though mist of arousal coming in contact with my skin fans a tempting invitation my way and instinct tells me to dive into it, I reel it in and wait for you to say your piece. I cannot see your face but I definitely feel you aggressively fist my member.

Soft fingers, perhaps the pointer and the middle digits, caress my length up and down; fingernails scratching its texture with a hint of uncertainty, "I promised you I would do anything for you today. You're always trying your best for us so... I mean... At least let me give you comfort sometimes."

I pause for a few heartbeats. Sometimes? Do you not have any idea? When no one else in the world is interested in the things I like most, you are there to listen to each one of my obscure stories. I know you do not understand everything, and I know that there are a million other things that you could be doing, yet you stay beside me and smile at all the oddities that spin from my tongue. When I feel like the world is revolving too fast and I am being left behind again, you are there to hold my hand and help me find my footing. And when I feel like the weather is mayhap a bit too cold and the sound of the rain brings more torment than comfort, you are there to sit beside me. In silence. To bring warmth.

It is I who perhaps cannot repay what you deserve. The value of the treasure that you are.

In my quietude, the sound of a weak muttering brings me back to the present, "Why are you so quiet?" You mumble, "It's embarrassing to keep my ass in the air like this, you know. Just tell me if you don't want to... This is so humiliating..."

At that, I cannot stop a low laughter from rumbling across my chest. You bury your face in my lower abdomen and ask why, but I shake my head and simply bring my lips to your thighs, "Nothing. Merely appreciating how adorable you are."

I ignore another grumble from you. Then, with a small flame of happiness alit in my breast, I kiss your soft thigh. I've always enjoyed the feeling of squeezing you like this. A few more squeezes whilst I excitedly advance upward. Kisses, a few nips here and there to draw tiny red marks, kitten licks to illicit a flinch from you, and a puff of warm breath to your core... In an instant you are weak in my hold.

When you shiver, you grow wetter. And when you leak more arousal, your scent grows stronger; strong enough to invade my keen senses, to drift up my brain, to fog my mind, to seduce a groan from my throat and a depraved spittle to pool on my tongue. Entranced, I stir more of your scent with my nose. Barely touching your wetness, greedily inhaling your arousal. Then I stick out my tongue to catch your moisture with its tip before slowly sinking forward to meet the place that excites you most.

"Ahh..."

A lovely moan as payment. Not quite enough. I roll the tip of my tongue around your clitoris; thoroughly enjoying the shivering lips against my lips as I circle you round, and round, and round... And then a flick. Another moan. I grin under you as I attack again-- flicking, flicking, retracting back to lick the rest of your moist folds clean, going back again and leaving a tiny dip in your hole, before returning to your sensitive bud to lap it again. I angle my mouth to suck you hard.

A perverted glee electrifies my very being when you try to stop your mouth from screaming unholy expletives.

What worth are my fingers if they simply dally on your legs? So, like the hardworking lover I am, I glide them up your thighs and stop at your beautiful, swollen mound. My thumbs spread you open, and when your cute little hole contracts in embarrassment from my attention--or physical lack thereof-- I waste not a second more and plunge my tongue inside you.

It is salty; I know that for a fact. And yet my brain, goodness this lovesick mind, registers your fluids as honey down my tastebud. And it craves. My mind craves, my throat hungers, my heart desires. I will take you. I will love you. I will drink you.

My tongue twirls against your walls; saliva further lubricating your already hopelessly moist self.

I will seduce you.

My fingers leave your lips and dance to your hole, but not before pinching your clitoris to shock your core.

I will extract your very essence.

My three digits fit snug inside you, but they are not here to fit. They are here to stir you. To plunge in and out of your, to scrape the spongy crevices of your walls, to tease the entrance to your womb of what is to come. They are here to invite you with me.

And I will drip every single drop on my tongue, drunk on the addicting nectar of your love for me.

To invite you to the madness that you trap me in.

As I make love to your sex with my tongue and fingers, I am vaguely aware of your own mouth assertively taking my phallus as deep as you humanly can. I feel the tip of my length plush within your throat and your tongue skating across every ridge that you pass through. The temperature of the room sends a chilly shiver within me when you take me out of your mouth, but then sends a warm shudder when you take me in. You swallow me, and I thrust my fingers inside you in response. You suck me up, down, up, down, and I shove in, out, in, out.

Licking, licking. Sucking. Flicking. My free thumb presses your bud and rubs in rhythm with my thrusts. Sometimes slowly, sometimes as quick as your pace. Sometimes I get carried away and make love to you as if I am chasing my own high, and another bout of excitement springs from my chest when you pop me out of your mouth to squeal a very loud, very wanton moan that bounces thrillingly across the room.

More. More. More. Scream for me more. Gush for me more. Drip your come onto me more. Let me drink more. More. More!

But then you stand up and I am left to look up at you. Bewildered. Unkempt. Why do you leave me? Why do you--

And my breathe hitches. The wind is knocked from my chest. The view of you-- by the heavens the view of you, staring down on me with your hair wild, your face flushed red, saliva dripping down your chin, breasts bouncing as you heaved up and down--

And your lewd, salacious, sinful face contorting into such a filthy expression. You gripping my length tightly as you slowly guide yourself down. The heavenly expression as you take the entirety of me inside you.

The obscene voice that bubbles out of my mouth as splashes of white invade the very function of my mind. As I am left to writhe, to spasm, to cling desperately to your waist when ribbons of come sputter out of me and fill the warm space inside you. Grind me, grip me, warm me. Hold me. Never let me go.

We both breathe heavily; chests rising and falling in rhythm. Badump badump badump, badump badump, badump. Badump. Waiting for the air in our lungs to settle. As I cover my face with my arms to try and calm myself down, you were the first to break the silence.

"You alright?"

I wipe sweat off my eyes with an arm and look at you clearly. You are smiling. Bathed in blush, absolutely stunning. "You will have to forgive me. It's been so long since I have...taken out my natural gifts. I must confess it's rather overstimulating. My endurance is not normally this weak."

You giggle. You ran a sweaty hand through my chest. "I know, silly. But this is great," Slowly, you feel the ripples on my abdomen through your lithe fingers, "At least I know you find me so sexy you just burst."

I laugh at that heartily. Truly, you are just...

"Indeed. And I cannot get enough of you."

In half a beat, I have you trapped underneath me. You give out a tiny squeak. Spurred to excitement by your cute reaction, I do not linger too long on rubbing my member against your sex and plunge it in-- the entirety of it sheathing perfectly thanks to your plentiful arousal.

"Mmmn!" You groan; albeit a garbled one, mayhap muddied by your shock.

I lower my chest on top of you once I am cozy within you. I grind my hips against yours. Slowly, deliberately. Whilst I take my sweet time retracting and burying lazily, I let my lips roam your supple, sweaty, sexy body. From your ribs, to underneath your breasts-- by the gods how soft you are; I cannot help myself from lightly biting your lovely chest-- to the reddened bud on their peaks. I flick out my tongue to tease a nipple but ignore it when it stiffened to attract my attention. You whine. I hide a smug smile as I continue onward and latch my lips on the soft flesh below your chin.

You breathe out; equal parts turned on and ticklish from my touch. A question escapes you, "I thought... Didn't you just finish--"

The moment you let out the thought is also the moment you shut your mouth.

The other one.

"I did tell you," I answer a tad more sultry than I intended, "As long as my stamina allows."

And then I bite you. I bite you at the exact timing as my hip snaps forcefully into you. Pain. Pleasure. A pinprick trickle of blood from your throat. A gush of moist precum from your core. I lick your neck languidly as my sex fervidly scrapes your walls.

Slap, slap, slap! Our lewd noises conquer the otherwise silent room. The sound of water intermingling, the sound of teeth clacking, the sound of you mewling. Wanton. Depraved. Desperate. Sexy. I feel you snake your arms over my shoulders to hold me tighter. I push into you faster.

Faster, faster. Let my desire blaze bright. Let my needy length fill you up in all the perfect ways I can; every nook, every cranny, every space that took me so, so long to fit into like we're finally two pieces of puzzle meant to be together. Let me pleasure myself in the warmth I steal from your very core, and let me pleasure you with my other member caressing your sensitive bud over and over. To bring you to places you've always dreamed of. To take you to highs no one else can. Only me.

Only I can serve you like this. Only I can make you feel like this. Only I can feel you like this, nails digging through my flesh, walls gripping onto my length, body shuddering in ecstasy. Mouth opening wide, voice screaming in euphoria.

Wetness. More wetness.

Yet I do not relent event after your climax.

"Darling, darling," You sing sweetly, still intoxicated in pleasure, "I want you. I want all of you."

I stop abruptly. Still inside you, I peer down at your face, "All this passion, yet you still hunger for more?"

"Yes! All of you!"

My body stills. Your voice rings in my head. All of you. All of me. Slowly, as if possessed by a devilish thought, I pull out from you. One pop at a time, my ridges, taut inside you, brings a unique reverberation that makes you shudder. I am out, and our mixed fluids flow down. Down from your swollen hole. Down to your tempting other hole.

I touch you there. Slowly, slowly. Circling. Biding my time.

And I bring my mouth to your ear, whispering with a mind I do not recognize, "I have two to give. And you have... two. To receive."

[anarchy-and-piglins]

(for this 'Enderdragon!Phil gets yoinked by scientists and put in a lab. Techno is a human who they're using for testing' idea)

Why the heck did government labs need to be so cold?

You'd think that if they were mooching tax money to perform highly illegal experiments anyway, they'd spend some of that on heating. But no, Techno was freezing. And the only other living thing in this cell was a dragon.

Which, yeah, he hadn't quite wrapped his mind around that one yet. With no windows nor clocks in the room, time was hard to tell. He didn't know how long ago he was taken, pulled from the street and shoved into the back of some white van like a cliche stranger danger ad. They hadn't even let him keep his jacket before shoving him in there. Rude.

The camera that hung too high up in a ceiling corner for him to reach moved occasionally, the red light on top blinking to remind Techno that he was being watched by the scientists.

Or maybe it was more accurate to say that the dragon was being watched.

They thought it would kill him. Techno wasn't an idiot, he was painfully aware that was the expectation when he was chucked in there. They wanted to see it make a snack out of him.

But so far, all it had done was look at him. When he was first forced into its enclosure, it had growled and hissed at him, claws dragging over the floor. It had pushed itself into a wall and screeched. But when Techno hadn't done anything except push himself into an opposite corner and pray to whatever deity up there wanted to take pity on him that he wouldn't get eaten, it had calmed remarkably quickly. Since then, it had settled down, though it kept a weary blue eye on him all the same. Whenever Techno moved or shifted, it would huff in warning.

Techno wasn't stupid enough to try pissing it off.

But the cell was cold. Techno was sure the temperature in there was colder than outside. The walls were made of a weird, black material. Almost more like glass, though it wasn't see through. His only guess was that they were trying to emulate the dragon's natural domain in doing this, but it wasn't exactly comfortable or even suitable for humans.

Despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop shaking.

Lightly, Techno rubbed his arms to stay warm. He could feel goosebumps along the skin, the pads of his fingers close to being numb. He hadn't eaten or slept since being thrown in there and it was starting to take a toll on him.

Techno was really tired, actually. But he couldn't exactly feel okay falling asleep with a predator in the room.

He let his head fall back against the wall with a sigh, trying to curl up a little tighter. Maybe if he did fall asleep it would eat him? Maybe it was waiting for him to show weakness before pouncing?

Wasn’t that a lovely thought?

He closed his eyes, exhaling through his nostrils. As soon as he did, the dragon moved.

Techno only had time to press his back into the wall harder and then it was on him. He yelped and kicked out at it, instincts of “holy crap, you’re about to be torn to shreds” flaring alive a moment too late with how lethargic his brain felt. Its weight pinned him down effortlessly, one claw digging into his shoulder and the other his throat.

Techno struggled, though his legs were weak and it wasn’t much more than a pathetic squirming. It stared at him, huffed, then butted its head into his chest almost gently.

Scared, it made Techno struggle harder.

And in response, it pressed down harder on his throat too. Until his airway was cut off and he started choking.

Logically, this should make him panic more. It should make him try to get out from beneath that apex predator with renewed vigor.

It stared at him with something in its eyes that was almost patience, almost amused annoyance as if it was waiting for him to tire himself out. Maybe that was the lack of oxygen talking.

Techno didn’t know why, but he stilled.

The noise it made then was new. It wasn’t the aggressive growling from before, the threatening hissing or clicking of its throat trying to get him to stay away.

It was a little purr, accompanied by it bumping its snout into his chest again - pleased.

What the heck?!

It dragged Techno into the middle of the room - which, ouch, kinda painful because the floor was made of the same glass material that dug into his skin. Then it draped out still on top of him and stopped moving.

Techno lay there, slightly panting, frightened out of his mind. The dragon only wrapped its tail around him a bit more and flared out a wing until it covered him.

It was warm. Like, unnaturally warm. As if he was lying underneath a heated blanket.

Exhausted, Techno closed his eyes again. Yeah, this was his life now. There was no way he could sleep like this.

At least he wasn’t cold anymore.

[neko-naruto]

Aurora

Summary: Kyle underestimates how easy it is to just say whatever comes to mind when you're tired, so does Kenny.

Warnings: swearing, accidental confessions, check Ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: the stargazing fluff won the poll, so I hope ya'll enjoy it. it took me a bit longer to write than expected, but I'd say the visualizations turned out pretty good. I was sort of going for a warm feeling, like, home cooked meals 'n fuzzy blankets, but in written form- it's just a soft and fluffy fic, with a very specific vibe I tried to emulate.

Kyle really wishes he was a heavy sleeper when the sound of his phone vibrating atop his desk wakes him up. He just listens for a brief moment, staring at the dull ceiling of the bedroom he's been trapped in for so many years. He reaches out to answer it and pulls it relatively close to his ear.

"Whoever's calling, you're going to get kicked in the nuts so hard your heart skips a beat," Kyle threatened, his grogginess counters it easily. For a second he thinks they hung up, then their voice comes across the receiver.

"Damn okay, never call the smartest guy I know ever again," Kenny said, a bit of a chuckle on his voice.

That hot-wires something in Kyle because he's sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Any previous sleepiness is easily stifled and snuffed out. He glances to his clock, "Your sleep medication wore off early again?"

Kenny gave a hum, "Yep, can't have anymore until two AM because it's a prescription, and I can't have it off schedule. And, and, and- you know how it is."

"Right, so you decide to call me at midnight because why?" Kyle asked as he stood up and made his way to his closet. It's not like he's falling asleep again anytime soon, might as well slip into something more practical. He grabs a jacket and his hat, pajama pants are perfectly practical.

"There's like, northern lights tonight man, they're supposed to start at twelve forty," Kenny explained, Kyle found euphoria on his voice. The McCormick gave a light sigh and Kyle could perfectly envision his expression, "It's kind of dumb, but, I think it's cool."

"It is cool," Kyle said defensively. He tugged on his jacket as he spoke, "Super cool. And I'm not just saying that either," He is. A little bit. But Kenny doesn't need to know that.

"Thanks," Kenny said quietly, "The other guys said it was lame when I brought it up earlier. I'm getting off track."

"You are," Kyle said as he reached for the door handle.

"Basically, I'm on my way to your house right now. Meet me out front so we can go to Starks Pond and look at the sky?" Kenny asked nervously.

Kyle can feel the heat rising to his face at the connotations of Starks Pond. He's stunned into silence as his mind races with the fact that Kenny's asking him to go to Starks Pond. The place where many confess, or go fishing, or confess, or kayak, or confess-

"So, that's a no?" Kenny asked, snapping Kyle from his thoughts with ease.

"Should I grab a blanket?" Kyle answered with.

"If you're too weak to handle a little bit of cold," Kenny said, a playful challenge to his words.

Kyle gives a pleased hum, "I'll meet you out front man."

"Yes! Thanks in advance! Love you bro!" Kenny exclaimed, words assaulting Kyle's ears at a slightly higher decibel than the rest.

"Love you too bro," Kyle said, hiding the crack in his voice as best as he could before Kenny hung up. He heaved a full body sigh as he grabbed a light, fuzzy blanket from his bed.

What has he gotten himself into?

Well, to start, a night outside with his best friend slash long time crush. Of course, no one knows about his absolutely debilitating crush on Kenny aside from his journals. So, he's roped himself into sitting around Starks Pond, fucking stargazing with Kenny. And he has to be normal that entire time? He just, he has to stay on his side of the line, and not, under any circumstance, cross over onto Kenny's. Which is a lot easier to do when Cartman is standing around, or if Stan is in the room. This time, there is no one to stifle him from getting a little bit too close to play off as 'just friends' and he knows, deep down, that he will fuck this up.

To reiterate, what has he gotten himself into?

-/-/-/-

"I never took you for a starry kind of guy," Kyle said as he tugged the blanket over his shoulders a little tighter.

Kenny shrugged, "I just think they look cool," He leaned his head back, hands rested behind it, "I don't know a whole lot, but, I know enough."

"Neat," Kyle answered with.

Snow crunched under their boots as they crossed from somewhat icy concrete to snowy grass. There's almost a serenity to it. The stillness of the air, the clouds only faintly spread across the sky, the deafening sound of his heartbeat ringing in his ears. It's silent, and for Kyle it isn't a comfortable one. Kenny looks rather fine with it, a hint of a smile on his face as they circle Starks Pond to the old gnarled tree that's long since lost it's last leaves.

"When are they starting?" Kyle asked, the abruptness caught Kenny off guard. He tilted his head to face Kyle so face he's sure it gave the blonde whiplash.

"What?" Kenny answered with, a perplexed look clear on his face. He shoved his hands a little deeper into the pockets of his parka.

"The northern lights. The reason we came out here. When does the light show start?" Kyle asked, he was laughing a bit, he didn't know why. He's pretty sure he's grinning, he can feel wisps of cold on his teeth. He shuffles his blanket a bit.

"Right! Northern lights, fuck man. Nearly forgot. Should be starting soon," Kenny said sheepishly. He brings the heel of his palm to his forehead in one brisk motion. He gives Kyle a bit of a smile, "Thanks for reminding me, I swear to god man, those sleep meds are messing with me."

"You're never this out of your mind man, never," Kyle said with a nod of agreement as tapped the steel tipped toe of his boot against the trunk of the tree. He did it until a chip of bark came off.

"It feels like those things are keeping me up at night, not down," Kenny rambled back as he paced around the tree. He was running out of things to say, "You don't mind getting wet?"

"What?" Kyle asked, bluntly at that. He just stared at Kenny.

"Like, sit on the snow. It melts. It's wet. We could lay out the blanket," Kenny offered, he gesticulated vaguely as he spoke. He clasped his hands in front of his chest, "I'm not standing up as we watch the light show."

Kyle leaned against the tree before sliding down, the blanket caught on the bark. He kept his knees hitched, he patted the spot beside him and Kenny dropped down. The snow crunched as it compacted under his weight, one leg outstretched and the other bent. He leaned against Kyle a bit, the redhead threw some blanket over his shoulders.

"Thanks," Kenny whispered out, and the cold biting at his face was the only excuse Kyle could form for the red rising to his cheeks.

He murmured back a soft, "You're welcome."

Kyle let his head rest on Kenny's, the blonde barely repressed a smile. He leaned his head atop the redhead's shoulder just a bit more, arms crossed over his chest to hold in the heat. The fabric was thin, worn down over many years of use, and restitched where it tore. He glanced up to the sky, the faintest wisps of green were starting to show amidst the inky ocean of stars.

He pointed to the part of the sky where the color was starting to waver, "Dude."

Kyle followed where he pointed, "Cool."

The green hues curled and splayed across the sky in rivulets of neon color. The headiest almost silvery greens lay at the bottom and faded up into a deep pink. The further out he looked, it almost turned to a golden haze, still distinct in striking patterns.

"I love you, Kyle," Kenny said, words coming out seamlessly as he pushed himself against Kyle a little bit more.

"Love you too, Kenny" Kyle echoed back, he barely registered what he saying until Kenny lifted his head up.

The blonde reared back on his knees, catching Kyle in eye contact, "Really?"

Kyle nodded, "Yeah," Why bother lying? He knew he'd fucked it up.

"Cool," Kenny said, there was a short circuit somewhere in his head as he wedged his way between Kyle's legs. He was on autopilot and Kyle wasn't shoving him off. He slumped back, Kyle's chest pressed flush against Kenny's back, "Cool."

Kyle paused to let the word soak in, "Cool?"

"Yeah, cool," Kenny echoed back, "It's pretty damn cool that you love me. Because I love you."

"Yeah, that is pretty cool," Kyle said quietly, he rested his hands at Kenny's abdomen. He pressed a kiss to the top of Kenny's head, "Pretty fucking cool."

[demonslayedher]

Things that ran through my head while watching this episode:

--Dear Ufotable, why couldn't you had included the second half of this episode in your theatrical release? The One (1) time the Kamaboko boys all combine for one attack deserves cinematic treatment. I. Love. This. Scene. So. Much. They went for it so hard, and so obviously that they even had to poke a little fun at themselves in the Taisho Secret. Speaking of, I wish they would had given us more Taisho Secrets (or Stylish Scruffy Democracy) in Yuukaku-hen as opposed to just rehashing emotions that spoke well enough for themselves, as happens here with Tanjiro. I find it kind of funny how quickly the "To Be Continued" curtain fell as if to be like, "ok, yes, Tanjiro, we get it, time's up."

--Speaking of Taisho Secrets, I'm glad Ufotable has had fun breaking form since switching to FujiTV (and what did we ever do to deserve Butt-Chin Nezuko??), but I kind of miss the consistency of the first season's Taisho Secrets and manga panel BGs and limited movements like they're silly puppets. It makes the breaks in pattern more fun, like Inosuke & Zenitsu gulping in the BG while hearing that they may be in trouble with Shinobu, or cramming all nine Pillars in one Taisho Secret together so they can only move their mouths while stuck in their basic profile poses. Now there is no pattern, so getting a dramatic "no Taisho Secret today, too much drama!" thing is… not dramatic. Good thing they fixed that with Nezuko later doing the complete opposite by breaking the tension with a real Taisho Secret.

--Speaking of set forms and framing, while the animation for Gurenge is great for how it shows overall themes of the series and characters in relation to Tanjiro, this OP really says "this is the Yuukaku arc and this is what you're getting." One of my favorite details (I have a lot of favorite details) is how Uzui looks so relaxed and flamboyantly at ease when he's dodging obi, but doesn't show dramatic effort until he's dealing with Gyutaro's attacks.

--I… don't have strong feelings about the filler of the picnic in front of the grave, I do have feelings about it. I guess I fall more on the side of disliking this filler for how inconsistent the relationship feels between Tengen and his wives, like all that restraint they practice before relaxing because it's so ingrained in them to be subservient to their husband, but then Makio turns right around and calls Tengen out for being unfair. We've also never seen any jealousy between the wives, and however light-hearted, the inorganic way it came about with the cherry blossoms seems to take a nuance that Hinatsuru is the favorite and stretch it to a larger proportion than in the manga. That all being said, Makio sticking a bunch of petals in her hair with that "flirt with me too!" face is adorable. Speaking of flashbacks, I do like how Hinatsuru is the one to propose that they retire and live as normal people once they defeat an Upper Moon, as there needs to be a deciding point for when they'll move on. And the part about no hard feelings if they aren't all together? I love how bittersweet that is, and it feels very in the spirit of Hinatsuru to do that; I don't think it's that she's Tengen's favorite, but that she's the heart of this family. Makio looks to Hinatsuru when she feels conflicted, Suma turns to Hinatsuru first to celebrate their victory. They fact that she almost died would had stung the whole family is a way that doesn't just make them feel the hurt and loss, but feel like a tether has come loose.

--Ok so, I love Suma for being a simple bimbo, but I hope Tengen never feels like he's parenting her. I hope that when she's all "I wanna be a dragonfly" and he's like "that's a nice flashy dream" what he's actually thinking is "this woman is crazy and I am crazy about her."

--So for the amount of time that Hinatsuru was in active danger in Gyutaro's clutches, I feel like I could had watched this on at least double speed to emulate the actual pace at which the action took place. Tanjiro & Uzui just do so dang much thinking in such a quick span of time. BUT!!! Tanjiro, our boy, he's so full of good ideas!! Take advantage of being weak and not as carefully watched as the Pillar! Mix both your Breaths to make the best of them both!! Tanjiro has gone through so many levels of thinking and development over the course of this night that he's probably going to pick up from the conclusions he reached once he later wakes up and writes some letters: "Dear Tomioka-san, It's too bad I'm better suited to Hinokami Kagura and can never get very good at Water Breathing, otherwise my sword might not had broken this time. I got a letter from Haganezuka-san…" (and poor Giyuu would be like, "…what is the (future) Water Pillar talking about?")

--You know who I've missed? UROKODAKI. Urokodaki, it's so nice to see you again. T^T Those flashbacks to Tanjiro's training days are so cute. I missed how often Tanjiro flashed back to training with Urokodaki!

--But you know what's also nice? The fact that Tanjiro's not the only one who has worked his butt off to get stronger in the last four months. Look at all these boys, they've come so far since getting together at Kyogai's house. We know that Zenitsu's been polishing and polishing his one move, but Inosuke's been working hard too, ever since losing Rengoku-san! That's so endearing, for it's the first time in Inosuke's life he's ever gone through a loss that gave him a drive like this.

--It is so, so, so much fun seeing Inosuke being the one who is frazzled and Zenitsu being the cool leader. This is the hero of Legend of Zenitsu!! I'll bet that's how all his lines are written! And then when Inosuke gets the inspiration to focus on charging through the small opening in the middle of the obi, that's so satisfying because it's like the moment when someone breaks out of writer's block, and it's not that he can stop at that he thinks there's an opening, no, he makes up his mind to believe that there is!!

--Tee hee hee, Inosuke playing rugby with Daki's head and jumping out of the way of obi is so much fun---oh---wait---until it's not.

--Well… Inosuke's a goner. Uzui's dead. Zenitsu pulled the self-sacrificing push. Tanjiro's falling and apologizing for all his failures. Here ends my rewatch.

--FOR NOW!!!! THE THEATRICAL RELEASE DEBUTS ON SETSUBUN, BABY!! OUT WITH IN THE DEMON, IN WITH THE LUCK!! FEBRUARY 3RD!!! I'm so stoked--------a-a-a-nd with my work schedule I won't be able to watch it that day. T_T

[quicktimeeventfull]

Do you know why M2 (mello/matt) isn’t popular anymore? They used to be bigger than lawlight. But now there’s barely any content

oh, this is an interesting question! honestly, i don't think m2 has ever been more popular than lawlight -- lawlight has been the #1 ship since day one. i do think fandom used to be a lot more segmented and there were plenty of sites and forums dedicated exclusively to m2 and/or the successors, so it was possible to bypass seeing L/light content altogether. (i used to spend a lot of time on those sites!) i think there are a few reasons for m2 becoming less popular:

death note is a lot less popular overall, so there's less content of everyone. this is more obvious with smaller ships, since there's still enough lawlight content that you can't reasonably consume all of it, but it's true across the board

the fall of the prompt memes. those used to generate a lot of content about smaller ships. they also served to show artists/authors what there was interest in

reduced popularity of rec lists. without people actively collecting works for ships, it's hard to find what's out there

SO many adaptations!! apart from the anime, the drama is the only adaptation that includes the wammy house at all & matt isn't in that. so a lot of people literally aren't seeing him

the anime spends less time on the successors in general and matt in particular, so i think he's just less compelling to people who are seeing that as the primary source (he's not a huge figure in the manga either, but he's in there so briefly that every panel counts)

separating out the lit major-y points:

the vast majority of people are now consuming death note as a unified whole rather than a work of serial fiction. matt is SUCH a minor figure that a lot of interest in him was generated less by the material itself than by fan speculation in between parts

much of the appeal of m2 is that matt fills in the empty spaces in mello's timeline. that energy lingered for a few years after the conclusion of death note but i think it's faded really significantly by now.

this is all compounded by the fact that people are now used to series being released in a binge-watchable format (ex. stranger things, orange is the new black) rather than sequentially, so there's less of a drive to emulate the kind of fan experience that sequential fiction created

the increased popularity of binge-format media has imo made people less tolerant of characters that appear out of nowhere & disappear abruptly

if you want to see more m2 content, my personal recommendation would be to write up shipping manifestos or collect rec lists of your favourite fics -- both those things will help you link up with other fans, maybe make new fans, and will encourage artists/authors to keep creating!

[androcreates]

Ordinary Superstar, Chapter 11

Mike lowers himself to the floor, sits with his legs crossed. He’s looking up at Will, and he looks so soft that Will wants to capture him in this light, this pose, paint him quickly for his own sake. But he can’t. He joins Mike on the floor. There’s an unopened bottle on the floor. Mike reaches for it, opens it easily before taking a sip. When he finishes, he looks at Will and says, “You want some?” Will has never drank straight from the bottle before, only ever having a residual taste thanks to mixers that he may or may not have been aware of. He disregards his memories, focuses on Mike now, and says, “Sure.” Will tries to reach for the bottle, but to his surprise, Mike does not hand it over. Instead the other boy holds on to it, guides the spout of the bottle to Will’s lips, and when they part, Mike lifts the bottle slowly, allowing the liquid inside to stream out and into Will’s mouth. It happens slowly and it feels so careful on Mike’s part that Will doesn’t object to the intimate moment.

Hi everyone!

This chapter was really fun and a little agonizing to write. Of course, you can't have a romance story without some type of separation thrown in for drama. Because there was this expectation, I wanted to fulfill that, but make it as believable as possible.

I looked to two different breakup scenes, one between Wendy and Robbie fro Gravity Falls, and the other being Yorkie and Kelly from Black Mirror. They both were very realistic in conveying the hurt and dismay of a character without it feeling like it came out of nowhere, which is something I tried to emulate here.

Because this chapter is very dramatic, the song I've chosen really follows that theme. Hungover is a song I've loved for a long time, and it came up in shuffle recently, and I realized how fitting it was for this chapter.

Sorry to make this one hard to read, but I hope you stick around to see how things play out.

[alexissara]

I'm In Love With The Villainess [Audiobook] Vol 1 Quick Review

Wanting to support Yuri Audio Books and knowing I had a big move on my hands, I preordered Volume 1 of I'm In Love With The Villainess's Light Novel's Audio Book. So with that I've finally got to experience the Light Novel outside of bits people have posted online over the years or translated bits that were online for free I had read before they were officially published.

I'm In Love With The Villainess is a series that I really have been loving and love a lot in concept, finally diving into the Light Novel I'd say there are some small areas that I like better but typically the manga and light novels see a marked improvement with the benefit of being created after the story was completed, understanding the characters on a deeper level and a fuller understanding of the world.

Rae comes off as a bit more pathetic in this version, like I knew she was a little pathetic but being in her perspective in the light novel makes her seem like kinda a worse person and a more lonely person. I think the manga and anime work to make Rae a little less pathetic by solidifying the friendships between Misha and Lene as well as making the princes feel more like friends to Rae. The light novel itself has Rae single minded in her obsession with Clair willing to have no values, no friends, no life, no dreams, everything for Clair because Clair was her comfort character. I think it is fun how much she hates Rod, I do like the few more insights into the politics of the world and the game you get in Rae's perspective in the light novel but the added details are minor, Rae as a narrator is often simply reserving information she knows from the audience even though they inform her actions which feels odd for a first person narrative but I understand the desire to have more freedom when writing and not wanting to lore dump every 10 seconds.

The commoner movement arc is solid in concept but it being bolstered up by a pair of straight incest siblings to kinda hand wave away some of the complaints as well as an enemy nation makes for weak conclusion to the arc that otherwise was bringing solid political points. I am aware later in the narrative we'll get more but since in this narrative Rae is quick to basically just say whatever she thinks will make Clair happy and is devoted to Clair to the point in which she states she would kill people for Clair that were sort of friends to her it really feels like Rae has no moral base line. It undercuts the intention of the politics when it's hard to get a read on what the tory really wants you to think about them.

The incest itself having a discourse around it is wild to me given it's emulating narratives from Visual Novels and put on characters who in the game would have simply been considered villains. It humanizes them and gives them more because that is clearly one of the points of this Light Novel, like it's on the title, She's In Love With The Villainess. So it only makes sense the story itself was to have an empathetic view on the characters who were written to be a particular way. It's fine, it motivates a pair of characters to do some fucked up things but ultimately that serves the plot well and it isn't like a long easy on why sisters and brothers kissing is cool or whatever.

I do love the conversation about queerness and I do think that Rae being pathetic is part of the point like, that conversation has Rae cast herself as the fool on TV playing up her queerness for our entertainment. I think it adds to the plot, it sets the stage for Misha being an ally [and queer herself], it hints at Lene's own non normative taste, and establishes firmly that Clair is homophobic at the start. Rae is the sad Haley Kyoko listening Lesbian who only falls for straight women maybe because she doesn't love herself so she aims her heart falls for exclusively unavailable women as a form of self punishment.

I feel like a lot could have been done better but it is an interesting enough spring board to where I do believe if I had started with this I would be interested in reading Volume 2 but judging volume 2 a bit more harshly to see if Vol 3, 4 and 5 were worth my time or not.

In terms of the audio book performance this was my first audio book ever so it's kinda hard to say what is good or bad. I think Courtney Shaw does a fine job but she really only is fun with her voice performance when she is voicing Clair. Lene and Rae have clear distinct voices but the men do tend to blend in together which works fine for a story being told from Rae's perspective honestly. It did drive me up the wall to call Lene "lean" rather then how it is pronounced in the anime or how I read it. I do wish the voice for Rae was a bit more dynamic, Rae was very dry, like well preformed certainty but I feel like it could have used a touch more flavor. I do wish that the audio book was sorted into more sub chapters, since the light novel is only 3 chapters for the main meat of the story you have very long blocks of time that represent each chapter and it is much harder to simply go back to a part you wanted to listen to again or anything. Still it was an overall good production and I don't regret picking it up.

If you enjoy these reviews you can read more, I write lots of them and if you really enjoy them I can always use support over on Patreon and Ko-fi.

[thewardenofwinter]

This or That? Tag

I was tagged by @crowandmoonwriting and @writernopal ! Thank you both so much, you an find their posts here and here. I'm actually working on the other tags I've been sent but some are taking longer than others so I'll hop on this one really quick! I am also behind on the rest of them haha I've been quite busy with life for the past few days so this is a welcomed break!

Historical or Futuristic

I am far too dimwitted to understand the idiosyncrasies of curating a futuristic universe, nor am I smart enough to understand when other's write it. However, I do enjoy 'future-past' type situations, like with the Fall Out games and Attack on Titan to an extent.

I am also an almost certified pirate historian at this point so historical fantasy all the wayyyyyyy.

Opening or Closing chapter

While I do love leaving a bit of a cliffhanger, my chapter endings tend to fizzle out and die than crash and burn. I also LOVE hooking people in the beginning of a chapter with some batshit crazy opening line.

Light and Fluffy or Dark and Gritty

Light and fluffy bores me to death. I need drama, I need blood and gore, I need major character deaths to keep me entertained. I'm sort of like a Roman emperor in the colosseum. Why would I want to see a man pet and befriend a lion when he could be mauled to death by it in front of his wife?

I am, of course, exaggerating. While I do enjoy light and fluffy from time to time when my own life is dark and gritty, having an outlet in my own writing to emulate my current circumstance on a beloved character always cheers me up.

Animal Companion or Found Family

Animal companions are far too Disney-esq for me personally, though I do appreciate a little mascot or beloved animal side character (I write them frequently myself.)

Horror or Romance

Mix those bitches together, throw them in a pot, add some monster in there and I'm sold. I want to the see in's and out's of giving yourself over to someone wholly portrayed as a horrible, gruesome endeavor that is in the end worth it to watch the person you love the most feel joy in your presence.

And for your information, as Guillermo del Toro enjoyer, I am a monster lover not a monster fucker. Also Crimson Peak >>> Shape of Water.

Hard Magic system or Soft Magic System

No magic system at all! Only vibes. But in all seriousness, I do not care for hard magic system in literature but I do prefer them for shows, like Full Metal Alchemist or Avatar the Last Airbender. But for me, who has severe aphantasia, having a hard magic system really puts a damper on my already lacking imagination.

Stand-alone or Series

Depends on my mood, sometimes I enjoy reading a one off book with no further consequences and other times I want to delve deep into a fantasy world with characters I enjoy and grow with them as books continue.

One Project at a Time or Always Juggling 2+

You should see my google docs page...

One Award Winner or One Bestseller

I like money.

Fantasy or Sci-Fi

Fantasy for the same reason as the first question, science is absolutely not my strong suit and it quite literally makes my my brain hurt. Though, human sciences on the other hand intrigue me, but when it comes to space and planets? Hell to the no.

Character or Setting Descriptions

Though I do fancy myself a gothic literature enjoyer, setting descriptions quite literally pass through my mind without taking any of it into account. I can barely handle remembering what characters look like, how the hell am I supposed to know the exact wood cut of the grand staircase that leads into the second foyer?? Again, I have severe aphantasia so if you do not describe your character in heavy detail, I assure you I will not picture anything, for your character. Like a floating [REDACTED] symbol speaking now and then. (Which is the very reason all my characters are described in EXCRUCIATING detail. It's more for me than you.)

I also LOVE writing and reading character descriptions because, while I do not agree in real life that you should judge based on appearances, in literature a character's looks can tell you so much about their personality, culture, and past. Whether it be a strange scar, a specific head covering, or just the way a character smiles, all of those things can show you so much about this character's inner working and I find it so interesting how people weave it into their work.

First Draft or Final Draft

First drafts all the way! You are literally willing something into existence that has never been done before (hopefully) and it never has to be perfect! The most important part is getting your idea down onto a page or computer screen, you need not fret about things like chapter headers or sentence structure quite yet.

Love Triangle in Everything or No Romantic Arcs

Some works just... do not require romance in the slightest (in fact, as a person on the ace spectrum, I would argue that most works do not require romance, but I digress.) That being said, I do like writing romantic arcs in my works but mostly because I enjoy writing character interactions and romantic chemistry offers fun banter.

Constant Sandstorm or Rainstorm

Two of my WIPs take place in Seattle which is also where I want to live so... yeah, rain all the way baby. (Insert Rain When I Die by Alice in Chains)

Gently tagging some amazing folk! @captain-kraken, @ryns-ramblings, @elshells, @lyssa-ink, @rownanisntwriting and @zestymimblo. Sorry if some of you already did it, I'm still working through some old posts that I missed from mutuals.

Here's the blank list that I stole from Nopal:

historical or futuristic

the opening or closing chapter

light+fluffy or dark+gritty

animal companion or found family

horror or romance

hard magic system or soft magic system

standalone or series

one project at a time or always juggling 2+

one award winner or one bestseller

fantasy or sci-fi

character description or setting description

first draft or final draft

love triangle in everything or no romantic arcs

constant sandstorm or rainstorm

— M. Warrin

[catboygirljoker]

for the past several years i have found artists on here who make my brain light up like !!. they render my favorite characters in a way that makes me fall more in love with that character, or there's something about their style i wanna figure out how to emulate, or in some way seeing their art makes me wanna make art of my own. just, in some way, it's not just this is a cool piece but wow i love this artist and i wanna see more of their work

one of the feelings ive been chasing as an artist is the feeling that someone else could look at my art and feel the same way. i dont even necessarily need someone else to tell me they feel that way. i just want to be able to see it myself. the spark. the !!. i wondered if i was never going to feel that way at all, if i was never going to be good enough for myself.

but recently, i have felt that feeling. ive looked at my own art and gone, yeah. someone could connect with this. someone could feel the !! that i have felt so many times. i havent thought that looking at all of my art, mind you. it's just happened once or twice. but it's happened.

visual art is really really really hard for me a lot of the time (due to the witch's trick) and so its nice to have this breakthrough more recently. i still have a long way to go and still dont consider myself a very good artist. but i am making progress!

[sevrai]

Armored Core

I went on a journey this year. Or maybe I should say I continued an old journey.

On July 10th, 26 years ago, the first Armored Core released in Japan. On an unknown day about 20-ish years ago a young me stumbled upon a copy of Armored Core 3 for the PS2 in a used game store.

It's been some time since I decided to indulge in a lengthy, meandering post about my loves and hobbies outside of awkward Twitter threads, so I wanna air my thoughts on the Armored Core series! (This is gonna be a long post, primarily for my own enjoyment. You have been warned.)

Most who know me online or read my comics will know of my penchant for fantasy, but not all may know of my love for the "Real Robot" subgenre of mecha. As someone obsessed with DBZ and magic, you'd think I'd fall more into the epic "Super Robot" camp of mecha anime, but growing up I felt captivated with Gundam Wing and the Universal Century OVAs that aired on Toonami and Adult Swim. They hard-wired my DNA early on. (With the Escaflowne film later impacting me so hard with it's grounded mecha and magical fantasy setting that it played a huge role in inspiring WOE, though my comic is noticeably lacking in Guymelefs.)

Naturally that awe and love for such works made me feel incredibly drawn to Armored Core 3 when I first saw it. It was my introduction to a series that I wouldn't comprehend the true breadth of for well over a decade.

I was terrible at it, both due to my lack of experience with TPS games and the oldschool control scheme, but the customization, detail, and overall atmosphere of the game were incredible to experience all the same.

It wasn't until the holiday season of 2008 that I was finally able to fight through an AC campaign, when I was gifted a PS3 and several games, among which was Armored Core: For Answer. It blew me away. I already had fond memories of bumbling around AC3, but For Answer's over-the-top presentation, haunting soundtrack, challenging gameplay, and dystopic atmosphere really sucked me in.

Along with Demon's Souls it kick-started a general admiration of FromSoftware and the distinct games they developed. After getting swept up in the excitement of Dark Souls, me and a friend dabbled in Armored Core V and Verdict Day, even playing a decent amount of the territorial multiplayer, but it never drew me in like AC3 and AC4A did.

The years went on and although I always adored Armored Core, I took my sweet time getting around to going backwards in the series. I've always been a fan of emulation and rarely used to feel a particular drive to collect physical games, (can't say the same for myself nowadays. Sorry, wallet!) but I always remembered how much AC resonated with me, and when walking around used game stores I would muse to my friends that I wanted to someday collect all of the Armored Core games in physical form.

I made relaxed progress grabbing the games when I saw them over the years, but at the end of 2022, the Game Awards hit everyone with a bombshell reveal. The show faded to black, the screen eventually being lit by the Bandai Namco logo, followed by a little red light. Something in my soul knew what was coming as soon as I saw that simple red light start to glow, I jumped out of my seat and exclaimed out loud "Armored Core!?"

It was a trailer for Armored Core VI: Fires of Rubicon, the first new AC game in ten years. It was a surreal moment that still makes me smile now.

The series was always niche, but since it went dormant From has achieved superstar status as a developer thanks to the Souls series and Elden Ring. There's now more attention and interest in Armored Core than it has ever gotten in the past. It didn't dawn on me until a buddy messaged me shortly after the reveal that the prices of the old games were gonna go crazy from the huge amount of people who were From fans but had never heard of AC, and were now interested in trying the old games.

Some were content to wait patiently to see if the market and prices would calm down, but I took a gamble and started shoring up my collection ASAP. Sure it felt embarrassing paying so much more for several of them than they were going for a mere few weeks earlier, but I supplemented my hunt by selling a few rare old SHF and Figmas.

After a few tense months of scanning listings for good prices with some very focused personal criteria, the result was expensive but satisfying;

On top of this investment I even went all-in on the Premium Edition of ACVI. Perhaps people should rightfully poke fun at me for throwing so much money around for video games about giant robots, but it's not often I can say I accomplished a goal of this caliber in my life.

Now with all the games in hand a new journey had begun; from collecting to playing. I've played Armored Core games off and on since the early 2000's, but I was only just now finally making the pilgrimage through the series proper from the very first release, alongside the huge wave of newcomers dipping their toes into the old games before the new one comes out. Like an Armored Core version of Billy Madison.

I started playing the PSOne Classics release of AC1 on my PS3, before transitioning to my PS2 Slim once all of the PSX games were in my hands. Learning that both systems used funky software emulation for PSX games I went on a subquest of ordering and cleaning up a SCPH-39001 model PS2, (which was super nostalgic in it's own right since I started with a fat PS2 in 2003,) hooked up to a massive KV-36FV310 via component cables. I even went down a DualShock 2 model rabbit hole. Every game now looks and runs like a dream on this hedonistic setup.

As of the day I'm posting this silly blog post, I am seven games deep. I have 100%'d, (all parts unlocked, all missions complete, all enemy AC beaten both optional fights in missions and in the Arena,) without any Human PLUS enhancements or OP-INTENSIFY used, and even sticking with the default control scheme:

Armored Core

AC: Project Phantasma

AC: Master of Arena

Armored Core 2

AC2: Another Age

Armored Core 3

… And right now I'm just a few percent shy of 100%ing AC3: Silent Line. Sorry if this sounds like juvenile bragging, but it's always been hard for me to focus on and finish games. My ADHD has me jumping from game to game for years on end, never seeing many of them through to the end, so I want to indulge in a bit of pride being able to spend several months blasting through these games without slowing down, and without taking any shortcuts.

Admittedly I haven't played on Hard Mode in any of the games that have offered it, and Silent Line is really pushing me to my limit demanding S Ranks on every mission, but I'm still enjoying it and hoping to finish it up in time to sample a bit more of the games I missed out on, as well as make a nostalgic return to For Answer, by the time ACVI comes out.

Returning to Armored Core 3 felt especially sentimental. Like a return home. I'm sure many people can relate to the feeling of returning to a childhood game with newfound abilities and knowledge, finally able to do what your younger self could not. Having beaten the game that started this whole obsession for me about two decades ago is a really great feeling.

I adore these games. I always loved the few I did play as a youngster, and knew that From was a consistent enough developer that I would enjoy the rest as well, but not to the extent I truly have. Despite the time and money spent collecting them, I still underestimated just how much I'd fall in love with each and every one. Even the aspects others struggle to return to. I love the FCS quirks, the turn speed, the bunny hopping, the heat and energy management, the opponents riddled with cybernetic enhancements pushing you to your limits, I even love the old controls of using L2/R2 for vertical camera movement. For all it's quirks and older design philosophies it's such an engrossing and immersive series.

ACVI will be a very different, (and streamlined,) beast. I'm okay with this. My adoration for old Armored Core will only make it easier to return to and appreciate this storied series I've gone to such lengths to collect, even after the new one releases. I trust From to do the series justice, no matter how easy it is for newcomers to jump in.

I love Armored Core, I love this genre of mecha, and I hope lots of people will learn to love it as well. I want the new game to do well so we can see more in the future. I sincerely doubt anyone will actually have read all of this, but if you did, thanks for your time. I know my rambling can be unfocused and pretentious. I don't need to put this much effort into waxing nostalgic about video games, but I miss the part of me that used to do this on a regular basis.

(I also apologize for how much my comic updating will probably slow down when ACVI drops, regardless of what momentum I can build through July and August.)

[alarrytale]

Hii good morning :) I hope this is okay to say but i think bands like that are more successful because they are being themselves with their images and not putting on an act. There are a lot of artists in history who started out trying to imitate the people they were a fan of and did not find success because they ended up just being a second rate version of those people. They made it once they started being themselves and finding their own voice because that is something new and interesting. maybe this is part of why H has found a large fanbase because although he has strong influences, his glitter and fruit and painted nails and quirky music videos added up to something totally unique. i mean he's Harry and everyone knows what that means. Whereas lou sometimes feels like he is putting on a front with his visuals to imitate others but it falls flat and does not even really match his music. those of us who already love lou know that he is pop with some edge and soft, heartfelt and emotional storytelling and lyricism and mischievous humor and rainbow lights etc. but you'd never know any of that from his album covers or music videos or tv performances.

Good morning to you, anon!

I totally agree with you, and of course it's okay to say! I think it's a fine line (heh) between finding inspiration in someone's music and looking up to someone, and ending up copying and emulating them. You need to make it your own and incorporate what makes you special or different. I wish Louis found a way to sell himself the way he is, rather than a put up image that doesn’t fit what we know and love. If he did i think he'd be looked at as more authentic and genuine. It must be hard though, when he can't be who he wants to be anyway.