#there is still a little influence though I think

[aventurineswife]

so i know you don't want to write for sahsr right now so may i request a sagau where creator (also artist reader if you are ok with that) reader basically just adoring all the kid playable characters cause they think their just the cutest like the reader cheering on kachina as she makes her way through the night warden wars or the reader could name ingredients that diona could use for her drinks

Welp... 🧍‍♀️

I love that idea so much! It's really cute to think about the creator being absolutely enchanted by the kid characters in Genshin Impact, especially since a lot of them are so precious and funny.

As the creator, you are a being of incredible power and influence—yet at times, you can’t help but be utterly charmed by the smallest things. And nothing melts your heart more than the precious little ones of Teyvat, who always seem to be ready for an adventure (and often, mischief).

Klee

It all starts when you watch Klee during one of her explosive missions. She’s running around, her small feet taking her across the battlefield, her cheerful giggles trailing behind her as she launches bombs in every direction. And as much as the others cringe, you can’t help but adore her.

You find yourself cheering her on from your place above, your voice soft yet full of encouragement:

"Go, Klee! You’re doing great! You’ve got this, just a few more bombs and you'll show them who's boss!"

You can practically see her face light up, as though she’s hearing your words, her giggles growing even more infectious.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!" she cheers, as the explosions continue, and you think, maybe I’ll draw her with all those sparkles around her next time—oh, how fun it would be to make her look like a literal firecracker in my painting!

Diona

Then there’s Diona, your favorite little bartender, who may look small but holds her ground with her ferocious attitude toward anyone who dares to doubt her drink-making skills. You’ve seen her concoct all sorts of strange but (somehow) delicious potions, and you're there, in the background, naming all the ingredients she might use for her drinks.

"Hmm, Diona," you muse from your corner, a grin spreading across your face, "How about you add some mint leaves for a refreshing taste and a splash of lavender for a calming effect. A little honey wouldn’t hurt either!"

She pauses, glaring at the air for a moment, as if pondering the suggestion. After a moment, she huffs, shaking her head. “Hmph. You think you know better than me? Fine, I’ll give it a shot. But it’s still gonna be better than anything that idiot swillmaster makes.”

You laugh, quietly, adoring her tenacity. You can’t wait to paint her, maybe with some of the fresh ingredients floating around her, her tiny arms crossed in that cute, pouty manner.

Kazuha and Sayu

Kazuha and Sayu often wander the lands of Inazuma together, sharing stories of the world. But you can’t help but notice how small and innocent they both look, especially when they get caught up in their small adventures.

Kazuha, while wise and calm, becomes this beautiful and somewhat soothing sight as he plays his flute while Sayu, despite being a ninja, tries to keep up but always ends up sleepy or distracted by the clouds.

“Hey, Kazuha, you should totally give Sayu a ride on your back,” you suggest with a soft chuckle, watching as Sayu tries to climb up Kazuha’s back and ultimately just ends up lying down instead.

You adore their dynamic. Kazuha always smiles when you’re cheering them on, and Sayu often gives you a tiny wink as if saying, “I know, I know. I’m cute.”

Nahida

Nahida, the archon of wisdom, might be incredibly powerful, but she has a youthful curiosity that’s completely contagious. You find yourself constantly beaming as she gets excited over learning new things, always running around with a little notebook, jotting down facts about the world, or chasing after butterflies in the fields.

"Look at her go," you muse as you watch her from afar, your heart swelling with pride. "She’s so curious, so full of life. You can do it, Nahida! Keep chasing that butterfly! It's yours!"

She looks up from her butterfly chase, beams with her bright, warm smile, as if hearing your praise. There’s a part of you that can’t wait to draw her—capturing her joyful energy, her hair fluttering in the wind, and her little hands reaching out for the world.

Meanwhile, the characters who watch you interact with these little ones are torn between being endearingly amused and very confused.

Albedo, who sees you painting these adorable scenes of the children, may quietly ask, “Are you sure you want to paint them this way? They’re… quite a handful, aren’t they?”

Zhongli, ever the calming presence, merely chuckles, his hands clasped. “Let them be, my friend. You’ve captured their true nature in your artwork, as always.”

Diluc, on the other hand, simply raises an eyebrow when he overhears you cheering for the kids. He can’t quite decide if it's adorable or baffling, but he keeps his opinions to himself, lest you get any more ideas to paint him in some weirdly soft light.

Before long, you find yourself starting an entire gallery dedicated to your love for the younger characters. Klee’s explosive adventures, Diona’s sassy bartending, and Nahida’s innocent curiosity are now immortalized in stunning, vibrant colors. Every character is fascinated by your works—some even request copies.

And you know what? It doesn’t matter that you’re the creator, or that your abilities stretch beyond the limits of mere mortals. For these small, lovable, and endlessly adorable children of Teyvat? They will always have your heart.

[yanmuffins]

Thanks you for answering!!! I like that vamp!reader can at least act freely around Jason (minus Aflfred of course) .

So now i'm wondering when reader will turn into a vampire and if there's not blood bags around for a long period for x reason,is jason will be her first choice to bite because she can be vulnerable with him and vice-versa? And how the other will react when they know that most of time reader put a facade around them but Jason? Are they gonna maybe be jealous? I'm sure at least Damian will not tolerating that.

For the guess game,I bet that Alfred will be the first to become yandere because reader is more his daughter than Bruce's daughter. It seems he really puts a lot of effort into her education and the way she dress up ( i really really really adored the post btw,i hope there's will be more🥰 ) and for me it's seem bordeline controlling. I know he will not shying away to shot anyone who try to "corrupt" reader😅

context &. context.

ooh! those are all amazing questions!

i believe that, even if there were no blood bags around, vampire! reader still wouldn't want to drink from her family. it's a hard no for her, which means she would only do it as a last resort.

so, if she's not being held captive at the wayne manor, she would more or less be a little familiar with the kindred underworld. which means that in the abscence of blood bags, she would not even consider drinking from her family and would choose to seek out a blood doll or enthrall some unaware human so she can feed from them safely. no killing is involved, but batfam does not approve of that method even when there's willing victims involved. especially when there's willing victims involved, actually. too raunchy!

but if she is being held captive, i think jason would be simultaneously the best and worst choice precisely because they're closest compared to the rest of the batfam. she would have to be pretty desperate or close to frenzy to feed on him, though.

"And how the other will react when they know that most of time reader put a facade around them but Jason? Are they gonna maybe be jealous? I'm sure at least Damian will not tolerating that."

not going to expand on that because spoilers, but once vampire! reader starts acting... off... they will certainly go through a bunch of realizations. and you are correct, damian is not going to be happy about it.

as for who goes yandere first, we'll see (𓁹󠁘◡𓁹) alfred is a strong candidate, vampire! reader is most definetly his pride and joy. he put a lot of effort into making sure she was brought up as a perfect wayne lady. you call it control, he simply calls it care! :)

although he's not very happy about the independence vampire! reader is claiming for herself. too many bad influences outside that could impact her negatively. he doesn't quite understand why she would want to broaden her horizons when she has all she could possibly want at the wayne manor.

oh, if only she'd just stay at home...

[mask131]

Even though I am sad this is happening in light of the recent events, I am still glad that people are FINALLY shaking their dumb brains to start understanding they are literaly erasing so many creators just because they believe "Work inspired by this author's creations" doesn't mean the author is responsible for said derived work.

This isn't just a Neil Gaiman phenomenon, but Neil Gaiman's fans are a marvelously annoying example of mis-attributing fictional works.

The example above is Dead Boys Detectives, which indeed is a show not only where Gaiman wasn't involved, but also based on comic book series in which Gaiman wasn't involved either! All he did was create the characters in a different series, and then write the "prequels" if you wish that preceeded the comic book series proper.

Same thing happened with the Lucifer TV show - everybody was asking Neil Gaiman about it, when he had nothing to do with it, and it was based on (well, very loosely based on) a comic book series he ALSO had nothing to do with! Outside of the iteration of Lucifer the comic series used, which was indeed his creation and came from his comic of Sandman.

Dead Boys Detectives, just like Lucifer, are part of this spin-offs of Sandman which reuse characters and worldbuilding elements created by Gaiman, but which are handled and written and made by other separate artists and in which Gaiman had little to no influence... Because the Sandman universe is a friggin' DC franchise, a friggin' comic books franchise.

And even before that, there's of course the case of the Coraline movie where EVERYBODY was convinced Gaiman had participated in its creation and that he had some arcane knowledge about the secrets behind the movie...

(Plus, I think I talked before about how this one person pestered me because they were convinced Gaiman was the one writing the scripts of season 1 of the American Gods show)

This is a very old, very persistant thing with Internet-folks and fans of Gaiman, they have been attributing Gaiman's authorship to a lot of works he was not involved with, it is a very mass-spread thing because they just don't bother doing research, and they continue DESPITE GAIMAN HIMSELF TELLING THEM REPEATEDLY HE HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT, so you can't even blame Gaiman. He didn't lie about this, he didn't gaslight anybody, it is just that people were lazy and doing an idol-worship.

(that or more people need to be taught about how the world of movie-making, comics creation and book adaptations actually works)

[airandyeah]

Gimme Gimme Gimme (God!Sukuna X Reader) Pt.3

My Masterlist Series Masterlist

The silence that Sukuna left in his wake feels almost like an echo. You’re alone in the minka, the weight of his words still pressing down on you, suffocating in their heaviness. The shrine feels colder now — the once peaceful space now twisted by the unsettling thought that the god you’ve awakened is always watching. It’s as if the walls are closing in around you, but it’s not just the physical space that’s shrinking. It’s your sense of control, your ability to make choices that feel like your own.

You find yourself back in the minka after Sukuna leaves, though it's not a place you want to return to. The tatami mats seem less familiar now, less safe. They feel like a trap, like the very air inside is soaked with the oppressive presence of the man you can’t escape. You move through the house with quiet, calculated steps, trying not to let your thoughts betray the fear swirling inside you.

But that night, as you lie down in the dark, the sense of being watched creeps up again. It’s suffocating, and you can’t shake it — not from the corners of the room, not from the empty shadows. Sukuna’s voice whispers, a ghost of his presence that you can’t seem to banish.

And then the dreams come.

The same twisted, impossible landscape. The shrine — or what was once your shrine — now a warped, haunting reflection of the place you knew. The trees bend and groan like tortured souls. And Sukuna, always watching, always waiting, his eyes gleaming with a hunger that goes beyond physical desire. He watches you fall apart, piece by piece, and you can’t tell if it’s his influence or something inside you slowly breaking that’s causing it.

You wake in a cold sweat, the same fear curling in your chest. And when you sit up in bed, you see him standing there, right by the window, his silhouette barely visible in the weak light of the moon. His presence is overwhelming, yet somehow, you can’t seem to look away.

“You didn’t learn your lesson last time, did you?” Sukuna’s voice cuts through the air like a blade, but there's something different in the tone. Less mocking, more… intent.

You try to steady your breath, your heart pounding in your ears. But there’s a strange, uncomfortable pull between you and him now. It’s not just fear. It’s something else, something you can’t quite name. You’d almost call it… longing, if it didn’t feel so wrong.

He steps closer, just a step, but the weight of that step seems to distort the space around him, pulling your focus like a magnet. His eyes are locked on yours, and for a moment, it feels like everything else in the world fades away.

“You think you have a choice. You think you can fight this.” His voice is low, almost sensual, and you can feel it crawling under your skin. “But everything you are, everything you’ve been, is already mine. You’re not the same person you were three weeks ago.”

Your pulse quickens, and you can’t tell if it’s the fear or something else making your breath hitch in your chest. You want to fight him, to tell him he’s wrong. But his presence is overpowering, and for a second, you catch yourself—just for a second—wondering if there’s a part of you that wants to be this tangled up in him.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words don’t come. The pressure in your chest, the way your heart races, the way your hands tremble — it’s too much. The rebellion that burned inside you is smothered, like a fire dampened by a suffocating weight.

Sukuna seems to notice, and his smile stretches, this time not mocking, but almost… pleased. “Tell me, little one, do you even want to fight me anymore? Or has the fear begun to taste sweeter than your defiance?”

A new tension fills the air as Sukuna closes the distance between you, his eyes locking with yours.

“You think I want your devotion? No,” he continues, his voice dropping lower, “what I want is for you to understand. You’re not the one in control anymore.”

The room around you starts to shift, warping just like the landscape of your dreams. You feel your body freeze, like it’s not even your own. The shrine, the god, the weight of the promises you’ve yet to fully understand—they’re all pulling you in, dragging you further under his influence.

But there’s something else, too. Something inside you that fights against it. Not just for the sake of defiance, but because you know, deep down, that you can’t let yourself fall so completely. Not into someone like him.

You feel yourself sinking deeper, but you also feel that defiant spark inside you still fighting — even if it’s just a flicker.

“You think you can just break me,” you manage to say, voice hoarse, “but I won’t… I won’t let you take me.”

Sukuna’s eyes burn with an intensity that makes your words seem smaller, weaker. “You’ve already been taken, little one. Don’t you see? The chains are already there. You just haven’t noticed them yet.”

Before you can say anything more, he steps back, his expression unreadable.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he says, his voice like a promise — or perhaps a curse. Then he vanishes, leaving you alone in the dark once again, the oppressive silence taking over.

But now, a question lingers in the air: Can you escape him? Or has he already claimed everything? ~~~

A month later, the oppressive atmosphere of the minka remains, but you’ve learned to live with it, to breathe through it. The tatami mats have become a backdrop to the strange, new rhythm of your life, where you still feel trapped — but somehow, less terrified.

Sukuna’s presence is constant, like the ghost of a past that never quite lets go, and though you know he’s still watching, there’s something different now. A strange tension has settled between you both — a dance of power, banter, and something that gnaws at the edges of your mind, something you’re still too afraid to fully name.

It starts in the mornings. When you least expect it, his voice will echo through the empty halls, that deep, mocking tone dripping with amusement.

“Back to your little corner, little one? You’re always hiding from me. Doesn’t that get tiring?” His words find you in your usual spot by the small desk, fingers tracing the edges of your paper, but your mind clearly elsewhere.

You don’t look up, your face a mask of calm. “I’m not hiding,” you reply, but there’s a bite in your voice that wasn’t there before. “You’re just getting better at sneaking around.”

Sukuna chuckles from the shadows, as though enjoying the subtle shift in your attitude. The teasing in his voice is accompanied by the faint rustle of fabric — the way his presence distorts the space around him, bending it to his will. You still don’t turn to face him, but you feel the weight of his gaze on you, almost like a physical touch.

“You think you can talk to me like that?” His voice is low, dangerous, but there’s an almost playful edge to it. “You’ve certainly gotten braver. Or is it that you’ve finally realized how utterly helpless you are?”

A month ago, you might’ve flinched. You might’ve trembled at his words, but now you feel something else. Something stronger.

“Maybe I’m just used to your voice,” you say, finally looking up at the shadow in the doorway. “It’s the only thing that’s constant around here.”

Sukuna steps closer, a slow, deliberate movement that makes the air thicken, heavy with the weight of his power. The teasing in his eyes is unmistakable, but there’s something darker lurking there, something that makes your pulse quicken despite the calm mask you try to hold.

“You think you’re clever,” he says, his voice a soft threat now. “You think you’re controlling the game. But you know better than that, don’t you?”

You feel the shift in the air — the undercurrent of his control. It’s like a leash around your throat, invisible but suffocating. But there’s also something else, something that’s been growing between you two. A strange, unspoken connection that flares up when he looks at you like that.

“Maybe I’m learning how to play the game,” you retort, standing up from the desk. “Or maybe you’ve just grown predictable.”

His smirk stretches into something more dangerous, the flicker of amusement never fading. “Predictable, hm? You think you’ve figured me out, little one?”

“Not entirely,” you reply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “But I’m not scared anymore. Not of you.”

Sukuna pauses, eyes narrowing as he takes a step closer, his gaze boring into yours. “Is that so?” His tone is low, dangerous, but there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his expression.

“You’ve stopped running,” he continues, his voice almost thoughtful. “But that doesn’t mean you’re safe. You’re just standing still, letting the chains pull you.”

A cold shiver runs down your spine, but you don’t look away. “Maybe I’m tired of running,” you say quietly, and it’s not the defiance you expect. There’s something softer in your voice now, almost vulnerable. “Maybe I’m learning to stand my ground.”

Sukuna’s gaze softens for a fraction of a second — a brief flash of something that might be approval, or something far more complicated than you’re ready to admit. Then it vanishes, replaced with his usual smirk.

“Well, then, little one,” he says, his voice a mix of danger and something else, “let’s see if standing your ground is enough to keep you from breaking.”

The playful banter is always there now, a constant thread woven between your interactions, but underneath it, there’s that growing unease. You both know that something deeper is at play, but neither of you is willing to fully confront it.

Not yet, at least.

For now, the dance continues. His teasing, your defiance, the way the air hums with tension whenever you’re near him.

But in the quiet moments, when he’s not looking, you can’t help but wonder: Is this just a game for him? Or is there something more — something neither of you is ready to face? ~~~ After extensive research it was revealed to you that Sukuna was a very powerful God in his prime -not that he isn't now- and he had many enemies. In his earthly shrine, which used to be much bigger and grand than what it is now, he had 12 concubines, 24 servants, and 6 priests and priestess'. He had a powerful village he ruled over, festivals where hosted in his honor, to give him offering. These offering where not of food, or items worth much money... But they were in blood. Humans, animals, demons, yokai, everything was a sacrifice.

The blood was a symbol of devotion, but it also fueled Sukuna's unimaginable power. It was said that every drop fed his strength, heightening his influence over the land, the spirits, and even the elements themselves. As the years passed, his rule grew more tyrannical, as the demands for offerings became insatiable. The villagers, once devoted, began to fear him, but their fear was tangled with reverence, for the power he wielded was both divine and terrifying.

Over time, however, Sukuna’s power started to attract not only worshippers but also enemies. Other gods and celestial beings, threatened by his growing dominance, conspired against him. The balance of the spiritual realm was delicate, and Sukuna's influence was beginning to shift it dangerously. The first attacks were subtle—small, silent sabotage in the form of plagues, curses, and natural disasters aimed at weakening the shrine, but they soon escalated. There were whispers of a secret society of priests who banded together, determined to bring down the once-mighty god.

The fall of his shrine was inevitable. His concubines, his servants, and his priests began to disappear under mysterious circumstances, and the once-celebrated festivals were silenced, leaving only whispers in the dark corners of the world. Sukuna’s temple, once a symbol of his unrivaled power, lay in ruins, abandoned and overgrown with creeping vines and neglect.

Yet, despite the destruction, Sukuna's presence never fully vanished. His spirit, it seemed, lingered in the world, waiting. And in the blood that was spilled, whether willingly or unwillingly, there were remnants of his power, still echoing in the veins of those who encountered it.

You begin to wonder, as you trace the remnants of his past, whether his fall was truly complete, or if something darker, something more dangerous, still remains hidden beneath the surface of the world. ~~~ "Where your concubines gifts like your other offerings?", you asked him when you discovered he had been sitting in full-lotus out on the porch.

Sukuna's eyes flickered briefly as your question reached him, his gaze lingering on the horizon, as if he were trying to peer through time itself. There was an unsettling stillness in the air, and his presence, once a terrifying force of nature, now carried a subtle weight of something older, more ancient.

His voice was low, almost a rumble, as he spoke. "Concubines, like all things, were both a gift and a tool. Their devotion… their blood, offered not only to please me but to bind their souls to mine. They were meant to sustain me—just as the blood of humans, yokai, and animals did. But they also served as a reminder of power and control. Each life taken, each drop spilled, tightened my grip on this world."

He paused, a hint of something distant in his eyes, something that could have been a memory or a reflection on regret. "But gifts are not always freely given. They are expected. And once they cease to please, or once they outlive their usefulness, they fade. I do not need their offerings now, but the blood of my past lingers, doesn’t it? In you, in others."

His words hung heavy between you two. The silence stretched on, the air thick with unspoken truths.

"Did you care for them, Sukuna?" you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. It was one you hadn't intended to ask, but it felt necessary in the moment.

His eyes flickered toward you then, almost narrowing, as though your question had caught him off guard. "Care?" His lips curled into a smirk. "I was a god. To care was to weaken myself. But they were... fascinating, in their devotion. They believed they could become one with me, to share in my eternity. It amused me at times."

A dark chuckle escaped him, but it was devoid of true humor. His gaze returned to the overgrown temple, his voice growing softer, more contemplative. "In the end, it was never about them. It was always about power. And once power is tasted... everything else becomes a distant afterthought."

You could feel the weight of his words pressing in, and it made you wonder if his fall, if his loneliness, had been the price of that hunger for control. Was it possible that his need for devotion, for offerings, had cost him more than he’d ever realized?

"What happened to them?" you asked cautiously, knowing the answer might reveal more than you wanted to know.

Sukuna's eyes darkened. "Some were taken. Some… vanished. As enemies came closer, I retreated, and the sanctuary I built crumbled with them. They were nothing but pawns in a game much larger than them. But perhaps they knew the price of that devotion, in the end."

The air around you seemed to pulse with the echoes of a forgotten time, and a realization began to settle in your mind. Sukuna's past was not just filled with blood and sacrifice. It was a tale of power, of those who had given everything for a god that ultimately cared little for their fates.

But now, as his presence lingers in the present, the question remains: can anything truly fade away in his wake? Or does the blood still pulse beneath the surface, waiting for its next chapter?

"Do you think it's possible for you to be… defeated?" you ventured, the question heavy with implication.

His eyes turned toward you, and there was something ancient in them, a depth of knowledge that seemed to stretch beyond human comprehension. "Defeated?" he mused. "Perhaps not. There are forces that might try, but those who would seek to end me forget one thing." His smile, twisted and predatory, spread across his face. "I was once a god. And no matter how much time passes, I will always be... something."

You let his words linger in the air, the weight of them pressing down on you. The question that had been quietly gnawing at you resurfaced, sharper now, a jagged shard of curiosity that you couldn’t shake off.

"But," you started slowly, unsure of how to phrase it, "do you ever think... do you ever wonder if you could care for anyone now?"

Sukuna’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker—just a flicker—of something unsettling in his eyes, like a brief moment of vulnerability buried beneath the layers of his godhood. He didn’t respond immediately, instead letting the question hang, suspended in the air between you two. For a brief, unsettling moment, you weren’t sure if he even knew how to answer.

"I have no need for attachments," he finally said, his voice quiet but firm. "They only bring weakness. A god cannot afford such things."

But then his gaze seemed to drift, distant, almost wistful, as though he were looking past you, past the broken ruins of his once-mighty shrine, into something far older, far deeper.

"You ask if I could care," he repeated, almost to himself, "and I wonder... Perhaps, in some forgotten corner of my being, I might have once understood it. But I am beyond that now. And those who worshipped me... those who sought to be near me, they were... fleeting."

His lips curled again into a half-smile, the kind that promised nothing soft, nothing human. "They believed they could be everything to me, but I was never truly theirs. Not in any way that mattered."

His gaze flickered back to you then, the sharpness returning. "You think I could care for someone? After all that I’ve seen, after all that I’ve taken? No. A god cannot afford the luxury of such frailty."

There was a silence again, thick and charged, the weight of his words pressing on you like a physical force. You wondered if the emptiness in his voice was something he believed, or if it was something he had told himself so often that it had become the only truth he knew.

"But what if..." you started, your voice barely above a whisper. "What if there was someone who could make you feel something different? Something more than power, more than sacrifice?"

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, as though contemplating the absurdity of the suggestion. "Feel something different?" His tone was laced with a dark amusement, though there was a flicker of something—something flickering in the depths of his gaze.

The smirk on his face grew ever so slightly. "You underestimate the cost of such things. No one is worth that price."

Yet, as his eyes studied you, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was lying to himself—or if there was a small part of him that longed for something beyond the power that had consumed him for so long.

And perhaps, somewhere deep within, the question that lingered between you wasn’t whether he could care for anyone... but whether he ever truly stopped caring about anything at all.

Taglist: @rinkomei , @sleepycrybbylaiah Taglist is always open for anyone!

[bumblebee-online]

Sorry for not being clear on that last one anyways I got another one it's for twisted shelly x reader fluff angst where the the reader was her best friend her before she became a twisted and during a run the reader gets infected and starts to turn but before they do they end up meeting her again sorry if this was to much

🦖 shelly w/ a twisted! reader Ꮺ ָ࣪ ۰ ͙⊹

* . ☎️ ! ꒱ nono dw you were absolutely clear!!! not too much at all, i had so much fun writing this!!! hope it’s to your liking!!! 🩷

Once the effects of the ichor operation became entirely unavoidable, you knew something like this was bound to happen eventually, whether it was now or YEARS down the road, you would see your friends succumb to the dark substance– or perhaps even yourself. These thoughts gnawed at you wherever you went, never allowing you a moment of peace. There was always something to worry about.

And that ‘something’ was your friend Shelly. You were actually close before the incident, but your bond only grew stronger as things quickly worsened, finding comfort in each other even in the tiniest of ways. Whether it was reminiscing about your mutual friends who had unfortunately turned, or trying to indulge in hobbies during the little free time you had, there was always some sort of light in the darkness.

Yet those fond memories were from quite a long time ago, a past you desperately wished you could return to, yet were forced to only relive in your mind. The true, harsh reality was that Shelly had become the very thing you always swore to protect her from, a twisted version of herself. You still weren’t exactly sure what had happened, it all unfolded so quickly, like a blur. You heard Shelly cry for help across the room, unaware of how little time you truly had left.

By the time you reached her, she was gone, only a pool of ichor remaining where the twisted had infected her. You didn’t have much time to mourn or even worry, though, as the exit alarm blared in your ears, a painful reminder of the existing dangers. Of course you made it out, but a part of you died with her. After that, you became solely focused on your survival, practically shutting out the other Toons and pushing yourself to the edge of exhaustion, clinging to the hope that there might be an end to this Hell… and maybe, just maybe, a chance to see Shelly again.

That exhaustion took a considerably heavy toll on you. You didn’t fully realize just how badly you’d neglected your own needs until you noticed how quickly the twisted had become… or rather, how slow you had grown. Unable to think the slightest bit clearly, you try to dart around a corner, but the razor-sharp claws of Goob scrape harshly against your legs, causing you to lose your balance and fall. As you began to desperately crawl away, hearing Goob’s approaching steps race closer, a sudden loud thump cut through your ragged breaths. Using the last of your strength to look up, your glossy eyes lock with an unfamiliar yet scarily recognizable face, Shelly’s.

As the weight of the sticky ichor began to pin your weakened body down, you caught a glimpse of something human in those glowing red orbs, an impossible sympathy staring down at you. Your trembling, bruised arm slowly reached out toward your old friend, watching as Shelly internally fought between the ichor’s influence and her own emotions, seemingly frozen in time. “Shelly?” you cough out, the ichor choking your lungs.

You watched the girl retreat like a frightened animal, then step closer again, Shelly’s ichor-ridden mind struggling to process the horrific scene before her. “I’m so sorry,” she croaked, her voice hoarse and shaky, before turning and running off. As you blacked out, you felt the last bits of consciousness slip away. But in the quiet, her faint, desperate words echoed in the back of your mind: “I’ll come back for you.”

[gowns]

i had a cup of coffee and started writing stream of consciousness about "the good place" and more things that bugged me

ok, so like, the thing with *all* sci-fi and fantasy is that it is necessarily constrained by the lived experience and imagination of the writer. so you always have to keep in mind the context of the person who wrote it (e.g. jrr tolkein, gene roddenberry, douglas adams, etc).

but i think what bugs me about "the good place" is that it's a whole team of writers, which should expand the imagination of the show (and i think you can see a good example of that in a show like "star trek," for instance, which also had input from its performers)...

but the whole time i'm like, i'm just inside michael schur's head. and i gotta give him props for trying to translate philosophy for The Masses, but the ... the... the NPR-ness of it all!!!! bugs meeee!!!! i notice it in the writing for every character...

i think michael's character ends up the strongest and most consistent, but there are so many anomalies within eleanor, chidi, jason, and tahani that it bugs me... so many "they would not say that / do that." even with being rebooted so many times

and tbh, speaking of the rebooting, one thing that i just cannot get over in the show's concept and later-season story arcs is the question of human consciousness, the biology of being alive and being dead... in the afterlife there's so many references to body things, body comforts, the 5 senses, and the entire time i'm like, that's all predicated on chemical responses from having a living body... so then what exactly does their afterlife consciousness consist of... hm?! this is me being very literal-brained but i just cannot stop saying "what does your consciousness consist of" at the TV screen. i like the moral / ethical puzzles they ask but it's just too much like "it's exactly like your (middle class american) life on earth in every single way except also a little bit of magic."

i think that, weirdly, even though "hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy" is very much written by a british guy in the 1970s, it still has a broader imagination than "the good place." i would have to re-read it to compare more closely... douglas adams is the benchmark, for sure. and there were some clear douglas adams influences in the good place. i just kept feeling like, for as long as that show is (14 hours!), they kept circling around the same limited ideas and i wanted so much moreeeee. like the hitchhiker's guide sequels. those got so weird. so i know that "the good place" could have gotten weirder. and gayer.

all that being said, when i check reddit, it did blow a lot of people's minds, and the ending really upset people just from suggesting "a nothingness after the afterlife," let alone the nothingness after this life (which is real), so, maybe it was as weird as it possibly could have been for a sitcom in 2015-2019.

[silencespring]

Actually, that could be one explanation. Bruce's struggles with communication lies in his blunt language, and both characters and readers alike believe there is underlying meaning to everything he says when there really isn't any. He very well could have picked it up from Alfred.

Another possibility is that Alfred could be following in the footsteps of many before him, unfortunately, by dismissing Bruce's claims as soon as they pop up. I mean, Bruce ended the story with his friend's body being disposed of in full view, and his headmaster having no shadow. I think a parent would brush the story off as an overactive imagination in response to their child's grievances of being sent to boarding school, not just because the details seem suspiciously fantastical, but because the consequences of validating those claims are huge. If Alfred accepts that Bruce was abused repeatedly at school and that neither he, nor Bruce's parents, did anything about it, even though Bruce did not tell anyone, he would still feel the need to shoulder responsibility. Then he would need to chew on the fact that maybe Bruce's behavioral problem was a reaction not just to the trauma of his parent's murder, but to the trauma of being repeatedly assaulted at a young age. Alfred, being Bruce's employee, would find the confession nearly insurmountable. Who does he tell? What does he do? He's just a butler, after all, and Bruce is the one with fame and influence. So he just laughs it off, and apparently Bruce is fine with that, because he continues on all the same.

The only reason I'm a little hesitant to say that was Morrison's intention was their handling of Talia and Bruce. Then again, didn't they also write other suggestions that Bruce was abused in his childhood?

Bruce: After 20 years of silence, I will finally relay the atrocities committed unto me in elementary school to you, my guardian and closest ally.

Alfred: lol. Lmao, even.

(Morrison. Gothic: A Romance. (1990) Legends of the Dark Knight, Issue #8)

[rainy-day-squid]

fake manga panel ehehe

as much as I find the whole pantsing gag dumb and annoying, I feel like atleast younger Dew would not pass up the opportunity to make fun of her cousin

[chiropteracupola]

a few friends from the Wood and the Riverbank

[shallowoak]

Zoro & Sanji Along with loyalty and kindness- trust is an element of harmony too!

I was inspired to draw some mushy zosan after reading @foxglovefantasy 's amazing fics!

>> more zosan here! <<

[peoplesrazor]

The often stated goal of people in the crit community is for Lily to lose her platform. This would result not only in her facing some consequences for her behavior, but will also make it harder for her to prey on and influence vulnerable people. While it's certainly reasonable for those personally victimized by Lily to want to see some legal consequences as well, those goals aren't going to be reached by discussing her on social media, with a few exceptions.

For instance, using social media to present and archive evidence and as a way to make others aware. If a victim is actively in the community and close to people in it, it wouldn't be unusual for them to post updates on whatever is happening on the legal front. Maybe just to vent now and then. Legal action is always long and frustrating and very often expensive. Venting about that, at least, would be reasonable.

There would be little reason for the rest of us to continue talking about Lily, I'd imagine.

People may bring up something now and then. You'll see the occasional post that says something like: Remember when Lily Orchard compared a Jewish woman to a disease and got to keep her youtube channel? That shit was wild, huh? They'll be comparisons between her and other people who are being discussed. Sometimes more accurately, sometimes not.

I know there is a pervasive idea in Lily's base and in those critical of the crit community that we're all obsessed with her and using her for content as a way to make money or get clout. That we'd actually be secretly upset if she never made another video or blog post.

I'm pretty confident in saying, for most of us, that's not true. I don't think people outside of this understand how frustrating it can actually be. In my case, at least, there are any number of videos or post that I could comment on, that have factual errors that can easily be corrected, but I don't because they don't matter as far as that ultimate goal. I will sometimes, if I feel it might be interesting to discuss, especially since it was my original goal for my blog to discuss media criticism. Usually, it's not worth it though.

Because even when I do make a post with the express purpose of calling out Lily's racism, ablism, sexism, her victimizing people, or to show a pattern of behavior, my reward is being called a transphobe, a misogynist or having my motivations for doing so questioned. I can't tell you how lovely it feels to make what I think is a well documented and easily provable argument and have it dismissed because I chose to use one of her media takes as my starting point. You think I want to do this? That I enjoy that?

I'm not sure those of us without a "real world" connection to Lily would even be able to move the goal post past de-platforming. Like how? That's the only spot that goal post can be. There's this big immovable wall just past that with the words "no admittance through social media" scrawled on it.

We can't get to the other side of that from here.

So, yeah, I see most of us moving on. @spacefrog1984 will post more frog gifs. @thetepes will discuss tea and post more cultural food videos. @agramuglia will cover other media and media critics, which he is already doing. Sai may close @purpledemonlilyposting or she may use it to argue with people like you on here.

Me? I'll make more youtube recommendations, discuss indoctrination tactics and debunk things like pseudoscience. Mostly, I'll likely go back to vanilla media discourse and talking about bad media takes that don't involve Lily, which is what I started the blog to do originally. Maybe I'll do some more in depth analysis of The Owl House.

What are you going to be doing, Starry? Still, posting about Sai and everyone whose ever had an exchange with her all day?

Does a channel termination mean everyone can move on? Or does it just mean the goalpost gets moved?

[lulu-draws-stuff]

do yyou think you can share any transmasc lili or transfem raz design ideas you have

Ok ! I didn't have any designs planned out yet, so I took this ask as an opportunity to try my hand at it :] maybe I'll line and color this later, idk

(Any pronouns for Raz and he/they for Lili here ok)

[bonefall]

maybe with the ending.. make it be like the link between Breezepelt's leaving to join Kin and his POV in AVOS? of course from Nightcloud's perspective but

like. she would be injured and recovering away from the clan. but they would be unaware that she is alive and like in canon assume she died and hold her a vigil. Breezepelt, who is already at low point, taking it very badly - yes he was pushing her away bc he was hurt and angry and started taking it out on her, but.. it's still his mom. his Mi. and she is dead? or is this stupid clan just going to believe this to make it easier? are they really giving up on looking for her, or her body??

i can see Nightcloud being the one of very few, if not THE Only one, things that kept Breezepelt in WindClan at this point. and without her, what's the point? it's not like anyone else likes him. the link is gone and they buried it in a bodyless vigil. so it's what pushes him to actuall take the step and leave.

not sure how well it would align with the timeline and events. and how soon Darktail was assembling cats from other clans like Breeze. but i think it would be interesting and heartbreaking if at the end of her SE, Nightcloud just arrived back to WindClan and asks where Breezepelt is and someone tells her.. he either was missing since this morning or just left the clan earlier the same day. like, just have them miss each other by a hair.

I'm thinking that the second-to-last chapter is her with Pickle, having a bit of a sabbatical to unpack everything that happens through the story. Mostly because I want to throw her into some kind of pretty garden as a nice setting for this lmaoo

A LOT of BB stuff is being added to Nightcloud's Pannage that wasn't in the main series; Hillrunner's abuse, her mentor Addersong, several expanded little background characters now complete with their own side conflicts. I think what I can bind all these things with is Nightcloud considering what a Clan means.

Because of her new reputation, I'm noticing I'm writing scenes where she's intentionally doing and saying things to try and sway them. While also grappling with her resentment towards them, and things she can't change.

There's a bit of a melancholy air so far, so I'm starting to feel like the best ending is just having a bit of space to herself to think. Ultimately, she decides that it's more than Breezepelt or Crowfeather that binds her to WindClan. It's the life and connections she COULD have.

WindClan cats are also quite religious next to other Clans, so I really do mean "sabbatical." I'm going to have Addersong die of old age shortly after they reconnect, so she's in Pickle's Garden talking to her new friend, choosing cats she's lost to pray to as patron spirits to give her the traits she feels she needs, and just recovering both physically from injury and spiritually from turmoil.

So all that to say; it works well that by the time she gets back, Breezepelt has joined The Kin. He was one of the first to join when he started calling for members anyway, so having Night be gone for about two or three weeks sounds appropriate.

[ganondoodle]

i realized it while drawing that redesign for Xaror, but they really do look like i just did a somewhat cheap knock off of Kayn/Rhaast from league of legends oh my god

- i have had Xaror/Xanthriels rough design and lore for .. im pretty sure years before that champion released and even after it i actually never thought about it (unless you count liking aatrox and rhaasts designs, or i guess darkin in general, ... bc i just like those kind of monster designs, who would have guessed xD)

(for anyone that doesnt know league, this is rhaast (not my art, i wish it was, this is official riot games art .. also that art goes hard, i love rhaast alot)

hes a corrupted god warrior trapped in a weapon thats trying to take over his wielder (kayn, dont care for the guy) and once he succeeds this is how he looks, they also talk and banter constantly)

after merging back together i imagined Xaror and Xanthriel doing similarly, though much less as a struggle for control over the body, Xaror is more like a weirldy knowledgable teenager that does whatever he wants and Xanthriel just kinda watches and chimes in every now and then like a disappointed parent

(ngl realizing this isnt exactly helping me not feel like a fraud, but i dont think i can change xaror just bc of it, hes too woven into everything of my oc stuff .. q-q)

[aphel1on]

succumbed to writing thistle fic and tripped sideways into post-canon falin character study

[lucalicatteart]

A few little sketches of some possible school uniforms for mage schools/learning centers for magic/etc. :0c Though because Nanyevimi is so scattered and disconnected, it'd actually vary much more by region (like not everywhere would have a cultural concept of what a suit jacket or neck tie looks like lol), so it's probably unrealistic for so many of them to follow too many traditional Uniform Conventions from cultures in our world, etc. But, still, fun to mess around with designs, and think about which would be most fun to wear/what school you'd go to just based off the clothing lol~