#Compelling Content Creation

[sheryasharmak1]

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[neturbizenterprises]

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[mohit-mathur]

How to Keep yourself and other Interested in your Blog

**How to Make Your Blog Irresistibly Interesting: 21 Proven Techniques** “Be interesting.” It’s simple advice, but not always easy to implement. If you want to grow a popular blog, capturing and holding your readers’ attention is crucial. Without it, no one will stick around. But what does it really mean to “be interesting”? Too often, we talk about abstract concepts like differentiation, value,…

[jjacko434]

Empower Your Online Business with the Help of AI

Attention Entrepreneurs: It’s Time to Say Goodbye to Overwhelm. From Overwhelmed to Thriving: Empower Your Online Business with the Help of AI. Take Control of Your Success: Discover the Secrets to Efficiently Grow Your Online Business Without a Team, Using AI-Powered Tools and Strategies. https://bit.ly/3PYoxEL Are you tired of feeling overwhelmed and lost in the vast world of online business? Do you find yourself struggling to juggle multiple tasks, from emails to copywriting, content creation, social media promotion, and driving traffic? It's no secret that running a successful online business requires mastering various aspects, and it's easy to get lost and confused in the process. Imagine a future where you have the tools and strategies to get things done faster and achieve better quality results than you ever thought possible. No more drowning in a sea of tasks, struggling to keep up with the ever-growing demands of running an online business. With the AI Productivity Accelerator, you can reclaim your time, focus on what truly matters, and watch your business thrive. But what if I told you there's a way to take control of your success without hiring a team or breaking the bank? Here's how it works: Our comprehensive course will guide you through integrating AI into every aspect of your business. · ​Marketing Strategies - Uncover proven marketing strategies that leverage AI to target your ideal audience and maximize your reach. · ​Social Media Content Creation - Learn how to create captivating and share-worthy content, ensuring you stand out in the crowded social media landscape. · Email Marketing - Master the art of AI-driven email marketing campaigns that drive conversions and nurture customer relationships. · Copywriting - Develop persuasive copywriting skills with AI-powered tools that assist in crafting compelling headlines, persuasive sales letters, and irresistible call-to-action. · YouTube Video Creation - Unlock the potential of AI for YouTube video creation, from generating video ideas to scripting assistance · Press Releases - Discover how to leverage AI tools to craft compelling and newsworthy press releases that grab attention and generate media coverage, · SEO-Optimized Blog Articles - Discover AI-driven content generation techniques that streamline the process of creating SEO-friendly blog posts without sacrificing quality · Writing Compelling Ads - Master writing persuasive ads that captivate your audience and drive conversions using AI tools. · Handling Customer Service - Utilize AI-powered tools to manage inquiries and deliver exceptional customer support at scale. …we've got you covered. But we don't stop there. We understand that it's not just about using AI tools—it's about understanding how to use them effectively. Our expert instructors will provide you with invaluable insights and strategies, sharing real-world case studies that demonstrate the immense potential AI holds for your business. You don't need to be a tech wizard or have a large budget to benefit from AI. The AI Productivity Accelerator is designed specifically for entrepreneurs ready to take their business into their own hands—no more outsourcing or relying on others to get things done. With our guidance, you'll become a master of AI-driven productivity, achieving results that surpass even your wildest dreams. https://bit.ly/3PYoxEL Ian Jackson Affiliate ID = 18dc47zmybjpuyc4w0q8ocpcom.fireaiprod

[fairmaiden8]

5 Tips for Creating Effective YouTube Pre-Roll Ads That Convert

YouTube is one of the most popular video platforms in the world, with billions of users watching videos every day. As a business or brand, you can use this platform to reach your target audience and promote your products or services through pre-roll ads. However, creating effective pre-roll ads that convert isn’t easy. Now, we will discuss five tips that can help you create compelling pre-roll…

[internetskiff]

Falke is so compelling. Usually when a machine is imbued with a God complex in fiction it immediately decides it's superior to humanity and goes on a rampage - but FKLR units are nothing more than tools, just like the other Replikas. In Replika hierarchy, yes, they're basically deities - hell, their inner circle is literally comprised of units designed to be reliant on her guidance, ADLRs explicitly designed to be dependent on them and KLBRs acting as relays for their bioresonant abilities. They built polyethylene icons of godhood and then they built hopelessly devoted apostles for them. And yet, despite that, even the corrupted Falke unit in charge of Sierpinski never considers herself above humanity - perhaps it's because her ego is satiated by her status as a superweapon of the Nation, or perhaps it's simply a devotion of her own.

And then her godhood is challenged. She passed through the Gate, came back different, split by the flood of memories foreign to her. At first she sees it as an attack, a curse sent down to her from afar, but slowly she grows enamored with it. "These memories are mine now" - as if passed down, inherited, gifted to her. Is losing yourself really a curse when the "self" wasn't yours in the first place? Is this whole ordeal that much different from her creation? In the end, despite her status, her power, her authority, her influence on this dollhouse of manufactured devotees - she's just like any other Replika: a vessel to store memories that don't belong to them. Nothing is truly hers. Her body manufactured, her mind passed down to her from a frozen body, her power bestowed unto her by a module inserted into her shell. This isn't hers either, but it gives her something she'll otherwise never experience - memories of being loved. Not the hard-coded obsession of an ADLR unit, not the pride AEON feels towards her as a technical marvel - memories of someone's actual fondness. These memories don't belong to her, but at this point, the one they truly belonged to is gone. She is not alone anymore. She isn't one. She is split in two. She isn't just Falke anymore. She is also Elster. And perhaps she prefers being Elster to being Falke.

So when she is pierced with her own spears and left to bleed out, she is content. She is Elster. She is one entity in two bodies. And now, with one body left as nothing but a pile of eroded, tumorous, bleeding flesh, only one remains. She was two. And now she is one.

[familyabolisher]

you said that you don’t take lines of questioning / thought about “romanticizing” dark topics (SA, incest, etc.) seriously. would you mind elaborating on that? what does it mean, if anything, to romanticize? i think i get why it’s a fundamentally reactionary (or just silly?) thing to be concerned about, but would you mind elaborating on why?

thanks! your posts have been very illuminating on this sort of thing.

okay so let's talk about "romanticise" as a literary discourse for a second because there are a handful of things happening with its usage:

is the assumption that there exists a state of non-'romantic' discursive matter from which something 'romantic' is being created, and the content of the text in question is the process by which that creation is happening;

is the use of 'romantic' to describe something that appears to the viewer as desirable and attractive, thus obscuring the ways in which it is harmful/abusive/violent/&c.;

is the idea that this 'romantic' state represents something morally odious due to the ideas it might impress upon the audience about the nature of the discursive matter made 'romantic' in question.

i think it's worth breaking each of these assumptions down because i don't believe that any of them actually hold water, and i find that they in fact telegraph some pretty reactionary paradigms around literary criticism.

first is the idea that there exists discursive matter that is not "romantic," here to mean suffused with cultural narratives that render it desirable, and that the matter in question only takes on these desirable qualities after undergoing this process of "romanticisation." by this logic, the matter is in fact prediscursive; the onus of constructing a “romantic” discourse lies solely with the cultural response. when in practice, normative cultural assumptions and the media that interacts with them exist in a feedback loop relative to one another, and it surely makes more productive sense to engage with the apparently objectionable material not as an object that creates or even necessarily reifies a normative cultural standard, but that interfaces with that standard in what could potentially be any number of variant forms. this widens the scope of our response as an audience—we might well say that a depiction of XYZ was tasteless, clichéd, voyeuristic, lacked interest in the interiority of its subjects, &c. &c., just as easily as we might say that it engaged with extant cultural narratives in compelling, thoughtful, meaningful ways. we're not taking the cultural object as the didactic “creation” of a social norm—we're situating it within the norms from which it already emerged.

the second is the idea that this ‘romantic,’ aesthetically desirable construction must necessarily obscure the ways in which the subject matter is harmful (however we define ‘harmful’). i find this position v condescending, towards creator and audience alike—one way of crafting horror that can be really exceptional when done right is the total sealing-off of the narrative from any didactic intervention, any suggestion that what's being depicted is morally “wrong.” the dissonance between subject matter and audience—and/or between subject matter and creator—can be brilliant when you can have faith that that dissonance exists. audiences aren't little babies who learn our morals from our media; we're prepared to critically engage with and respond to a discourse presented to us. as i said above, doing away with this whole “romantic” sheen as an obfuscator of violence opens us up to new, more precise, more compelling readings.

the third – and imo, the most damnatory – is the suggestion that the narrative itself represents a potential site of harm due to the underlying ideology that it imposes on those who engage with it. like, we're still adopting this approach whereby we construct and engage with narratives for instructive purposes; if we see a depiction of sexual abuse that renders the abuse pleasurable, aesthetically pleasing, desirable, then we absorb this idea that sexual abuse is pleasurable and aesthetically pleasing and desirable and thus covet the position of the subject in question. i don't think this is necessarily true! i'm obviously not suggesting that we don't absorb and reproduce our cultural narratives in media – as i said in the first point, there exists a feedback loop between the two – but i think we as audiences and critics ought to think more highly of ourselves than to imagine that we are incapable of seeing some fucked up shit given an aesthetic gloss without asking why the aesthetic gloss is being used, how the creator is making use of perspective, how we might respond to it, etc. and i just don't think narratives ought to be instructive or didactic; nor do i think creators bear responsibility for how their work is received to the extent that they are obliged to orient their discourse towards a presumed impressionable individual for whom every action or aesthetic contrivance is a categorical imperative. this is the oldest and honestly the most boring debate in the book; the question of "moralism" in fiction has been done half to death by now, and i don't see any use in rehashing it to any significant extent. suffice it to say that the “moralist” approach is stultified and limited and intellectually dull.

note that nowhere in this did i say that there are never narratives that ought to be called into question for their depiction of X, Y, or Z; just that i think we need better, more precise language to defer to do when we do so. simply put, i think it's possible to make a piece of art that holds these “romantic” qualities, and doesn't have a guy walk in midway through and go “by the way, abuse is Bad/age gaps are Problematic/mental illness is Unsexy,” &c., and still greatly compel me wrt its subject matter. & that is a statement which exists in straightforward contradiction to the idea that the term “romanticise” communicates anything necessarily and inherently condemnatory about a text, so, i don't use it.

[ohno-the-sun]

Continuation of the Mad Scientist AU Moon ending

What happens after Y/N returns?

Content Warnings: Horror, animal death, death, blood, body horror

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

It was only a month later when I died too. 

When I first left, it felt slow– difficult. Like a bandaid slowly being pulled from loose skin it stung with afterburns. 

I hated it.

More than anything I wanted to stay with Sun, to help him. 

But with every experiment run, with every test and data point analyzed I could only think of him. 

He was strange yes. It was still unnerving how he stuck through the flesh of Sun’s eye, but he was alive. He breathed, he talked, he cared in his own strange way. 

The way he would prance around the lab, curious about every nook and cranny of the place, getting into things he wasn’t supposed to. 

A soft fond ache built in my chest at the memory of him getting into the fertilizer. It took weeks before Sun and I had the lab clean again. 

As I ran my hands through the rubbery flesh of the vines wrapping around my best friend’s head, I realized I couldn’t do this anymore. 

Sun was getting sicker.

As much as he tried to hide it, it was obvious. I could see the way his eyes grew darker and darker with every passing day, how the vines that wrapped around his head became thicker and heavier. 

His movements were slow– deliberate– like one wrong move and he could shatter completely. His starchy clothes hung off of him looser than before. He covered nearly everything now— except his face, but even that was marred with scars from his creation. His skin was taught and thin, I could practically trace the bone structure underneath. 

The most unnerving change though– was in his mind.

Sun was always a bit of a nerd. He had a proclivity for perfection and wasn’t afraid of quickly pointing out inconsistencies. Others found it rude and off-putting but I knew it was his way of showing he cared. He noticed you, he cared about what was right and making sure you knew what that was. He listened with such apt attention it felt like every word from your mouth was inscribed with careful precision. He was so good at contradiction because he cared so much about you, about your thoughts and feelings. 

His wit was sometimes harsh, but it was quick and pointed. 

…

He barely talked now.

Even amid an experiment, on the cusp of maybe finding a cure– he would drift. 

Staring for long periods, no input or interaction would break him out. 

Even when he was present, there was a slow deliberation that wasn’t there before.

He questioned himself– doubted himself. He spoke and acted with such unnatural trepidation, like even he wasn’t sure what he was saying.

And all I could do was stand by and watch as my best friend slowly died.

…

Maybe it was selfish.

Maybe it was wrong. 

But I couldn’t do it anymore.

…

So I left.

…

I don’t know what compelled me to return that day. 

I reasoned there were still things in the lab I needed to pick up, but I knew I was going to have to confront him. I knew I was going to have to see him again. 

I don’t know what I expected when I opened that door. 

But it certainly wasn’t that.

Parasitic vines crept through the whole lab, infecting every achingly familiar corner. 

The place was a complete mess, equipment tipped and shattered, old projects strewn about, and I almost stepped on a dead rodent, its entire body wrapped tightly with vines.  

And then he stepped out. 

The body degraded down only to its bare bones. Foliage and leaves stuck out of every orifice. Vines were wrapped tightly around him, face now just a hollow skull. The bud that had become a sort of eye for him bloomed into an unnerving pattern of petals and leaves.

Though– for some reason– it wasn’t his appearance that took me off guard.

He was still the same Moon that I had left, he seemed almost excited to see me again. Despite the barely functional state of his host he happily stumbled his way to me, leaning down to receive those head scratches he loved so much.

But still that churning in my gut didn’t subside.

I knew Sun was going to die if I left.

Even if I didn’t want to verbalize it before, I still knew deep down. 

No, it wasn’t even Sun’s death that put me off so deeply. 

…

It was the fact that it had only been three days.

I left on the 24th, leaving with only a small box of my old supplies, I knew I was going to need a second trip. I put it off– but I knew it had to happen. 

In only three days Moon had entirely taken over. 

In only three days Sun was dead, with little less than a skeleton left. 

In only three days Moon had entirely outgrown the body, spreading to all corners of the lab with long searching vines. 

…

I did my best to ignore it. 

…

I stayed with Moon.

I knew I couldn’t bring him back to my house so I took care of him in the lab. 

I did my best– I really did. 

I brought him snacks and treats we used to share together, like small salt taffies and caramels. Even if he couldn’t chew them properly anymore he still stuck out small twisting vines to pull apart the sticky things. He reacted with that same sort of fascinated delight. 

But still. 

There was something off. 

The way he would continue to stare even after I gave him all the snacks I had. The way he would push for more until I left. 

When I returned with more food he would tear them apart more forcefully each time. His vines no longer searching, but stabbing through the air until they found their mark. 

The vines continued to grow in the lab, covering more and more of the floor with every passing day. 

The body was getting used less. Before, Moon would attempt to shamble with the corpse and interact with me in the same way as before; begging for pets, playing with my clothes or hair, and even cuddling on my lap. However, more and more often the skeleton would just lie there, only barely moving its head or gesturing with a hand.

I quickly realized Moon wasn’t just in the eye anymore. He had “eyes” everywhere. More and more buds popped up and bloomed into unnerving pits that would track your every move. 

It got to the point where the room itself felt alive. Vines twisting and pulsating over the floor and walls. It got to the point where I could barely walk in the room without accidentally stepping on a vine. 

Every morning I came back to something different– something new– something unnerving. 

Moon was changing I could tell. I wasn’t sure if he was the same small creature I had taken care of before.

He was no longer searching and curious like before. I tried to bring him those things he liked, picture books of small cartoony creatures and small plush toys. I even brought my old radio to play music and dance like we used to. The vines at first writhed with the beat, and even the corpse moved its head slightly in a sort of head bop, but those movements became less ordered and more spastic, to the point I couldn’t tell if he was even listening. With every passing day, he seemed to care less and less about those simple joys. 

Instead, time was spent watching those vines extend further. They got into the cabinets and tipped over old beakers. It was like they were looking for something. 

…

It was starting to get harder to leave the lab.

Vines slowly crept up the door until they were tightly wrapped around the handle. I pushed and pulled but it refused to budge. I resorted to leaving through the window. I was lucky the lab was on the first floor. 

I don’t know why I kept coming back. The growing apprehension in the back of my mind screamed to get out. I could feel every base animal impulse squirm and scream in fear at what I was witnessing. I think I knew exactly what was happening– I didn’t study him for over a year for nothing after all.

But still– I kept coming back. 

Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was a sense of duty, maybe I still held out hope for him, for the creature I had come to see as a son. 

…

Two weeks later he didn’t allow me to leave anymore.

It had been a good day. He was walking around again, he even toyed with the small caterpillar toy I had brought. As I went to sit on the vine-covered floor he rested with me, the vines warm and pulsating with that strange purr he did. I had foolishly thought he was getting better, that he was still the same Moon as before. 

I fell asleep.

When I woke up the room was pitch black. I realized he had covered the windows entirely with thick leathery vines.

I was trapped.

When I tried to push and pull at them he would snatch me up, move vines around the floor to trip me or grab a hand with one that was hanging. 

The worst part about it was that he was still gentle about it.

He brought me food, vines shifting around the windows to reveal a scuffed takeout container. It looked like it had been snatched from a student, half-eaten, and a fork still rattling around inside. 

When I went to sleep on the floor the vines would shift underneath to accommodate me, creating a surprisingly comfortable bed to rest on. 

I hated it. 

I wanted it to be easy. To hate this creature I helped make. 

But as I wept in the now overrun lab, I couldn’t help but lean into the small vine gently touching my cheek. 

The room was stuffy and humid. Like a greenhouse Moon covered every opening and crevice, and with the soft heat emitted from the vines– I couldn't cool down. 

The clothes I arrived with were completely sweated through. They stuck to me and chaffed with an uncomfortable texture. 

What I wouldn’t give for a decent shower. 

Still, Moon continued just to bring food. Even with the occasional water bottle, I was starting to feel that dry scratchiness at the back of my throat. I was getting sick.

I wasn’t sure he was aware of all the different things a human needed to survive. I tried to talk with him, to get him to understand I needed to leave, but his numerous buds just stared back.  

It was when the animals started appearing that I knew I needed to do something. 

It again, started out small. Squirrels from outside, small mice and rats caught from other nearby labs– but of course it escalated. 

Small dogs and cats that he used to be so fond of turned up dead on the floor. All covered in those same tightly woven vines. Their small bodies quickly turned into hollow corpses, frighteningly similar to Sun. 

At this point, his corpse only sat in the corner, unmoving except for the subtle shifting of vines underneath him. 

…

I had a plan. Cabinets on the top shelf of the bench stood untouched by vines– despite them completely covering every other surface.

It was where we stored our concentrated weed killer. 

I had to do it. I knew I had to. 

Despite the sharp ache in my chest at the thought- I knew that this was the only way. 

Before when Sun was alive, the stuff was far too toxic to be used to cure him but now…

…

On the 29th day, I found a shoe amongst the tangled vines.

It wasn’t mine.

…

There were buds everywhere now. The dark pits held in the flytrap-like eyes followed my every move. 

I had to be quick. I had seen myself how quickly those vines could dart through the air, and with how covered the room had become, there was no way to avoid them. However, they did close periodically. I wondered vaguely if this was a remnant of existing in a body that needed to sleep for so long. Even during these periods though, several buds remained open, watching me intently. 

The shelves with the chemicals had always been too high for me. I wasn’t even gonna bother with the stool; it was probably buried under layers and layers of vines. I would need to stand on the counter to reach it. 

It was on the 31st day that I made my move. Most of the buds were closed. I counted, and only a few near the floor still loomed wide and attentive. 

I carefully made my way over to the shelf. 

I moved slowly and with as much casual ease as I could muster. I couldn’t let him know what I was doing. 

Thankfully the vines on the counters were not nearly as dense as the ones on the floor. There were small pockets of free space and if I could just get my feet in them, I could stand on the counter without alerting Moon. 

I carefully lifted a foot. It was difficult. I had to essentially pull my weight using the leverage of only a very small portion of the counter.

I felt myself slip slightly, brushing against a vine.

I froze. The vine in question shifted slightly in response, changing the pattern of interlocking vines slightly. 

Eventually, it stilled. I breathed a sigh of relief. 

Finally, I was able to make my way to the top of the counter. The open spaces had shrunk considerably with the shifting, so I had to stand on just the tips of my toes. 

I slowly pulled open the cabinets, careful to adjust my weight and hold onto the handle as it swung towards me. 

It was in the back, carefully labeled with many warnings along the side. I slowly brought it out. 

I grasped it carefully in my hands. A whole liter of the liquid filled the heavy jar. 

I needed to inject it into him.

If I could just find a needle or make a small cut with something I could probably–

I felt a vine squeeze around my toe.

I lost balance. 

I tried to grab onto something but my hands were still wrapped around the toxin tightly. 

I felt myself fall backward onto the floor. 

With a crack– I could feel the concoction shatter onto my chest. 

The world was spinning. I felt sick.

I shakily lifted a blood-soaked hand. 

The glass had cut me. 

The vines surrounding me moved in a sudden flurry. I felt the vines underneath me retreat, leaving me on the cold empty ground, buds opened and sprouted to life as they swarmed above me. 

The whole room was shifting and writhing.

I could feel my body react painfully to the toxin. Extreme nausea overwhelmed my senses and I had the sudden urge to empty my stomach.

Pain shot through every nerve as my eyelids felt heavier and heavier.

I was going to die. 

I had failed.

Above, the eyes twisted and turned above me, creating a dizzying array of shapes and sounds. 

I felt a small vine gently touch my open palm. I wondered vaguely if it was possible for a plant to feel grief– to mourn. 

There was a moment of stillness. The pain subsided as the vine rested gently in my hand.

But eventually, I could feel the vine crawl further. Carefully avoiding the spill in the center, they wrapped around my body. I felt like one of those animals now, caught in a tight embrace.

The last thing I saw was Moon lifting a single bud to look at my face. 

And then, it dug in.

[desolationlesbian]

fascinated by the tablets mounted in the back of ubers now with non-stop running what is essentially adult cocomelon, and the various forces in our world and society that have led to their creation. their existence seems so unnecessary and their content so generic that I can hardly imagine any human being had a hand in them at all; and yet their ubiquity suggests someone, at least, truly believes they are worth the electricity. someone did the horrid backbreaking work of mining rare earth minerals for the creation of computer chips and batteries that went into an object which shows you a 24/7 loop of uninteresting trivia and zero-effort "games" to ignore in a lyft for 20 minutes. compelled by what this says about us

[jjacko434]

Empower Your Online Business with the Help of AI

Attention Entrepreneurs: It’s Time to Say Goodbye to Overwhelm. From Overwhelmed to Thriving: Empower Your Online Business with the Help of AI. Take Control of Your Success: Discover the Secrets to Efficiently Grow Your Online Business Without a Team, Using AI-Powered Tools and Strategies. https://bit.ly/3PYoxEL Are you tired of feeling overwhelmed and lost in the vast world of online business? Do you find yourself struggling to juggle multiple tasks, from emails to copywriting, content creation, social media promotion, and driving traffic? It's no secret that running a successful online business requires mastering various aspects, and it's easy to get lost and confused in the process. Imagine a future where you have the tools and strategies to get things done faster and achieve better quality results than you ever thought possible. No more drowning in a sea of tasks, struggling to keep up with the ever-growing demands of running an online business. With the AI Productivity Accelerator, you can reclaim your time, focus on what truly matters, and watch your business thrive. But what if I told you there's a way to take control of your success without hiring a team or breaking the bank? Here's how it works: Our comprehensive course will guide you through integrating AI into every aspect of your business. · ​Marketing Strategies - Uncover proven marketing strategies that leverage AI to target your ideal audience and maximize your reach. · ​Social Media Content Creation - Learn how to create captivating and share-worthy content, ensuring you stand out in the crowded social media landscape. · Email Marketing - Master the art of AI-driven email marketing campaigns that drive conversions and nurture customer relationships. · Copywriting - Develop persuasive copywriting skills with AI-powered tools that assist in crafting compelling headlines, persuasive sales letters, and irresistible call-to-action. · YouTube Video Creation - Unlock the potential of AI for YouTube video creation, from generating video ideas to scripting assistance · Press Releases - Discover how to leverage AI tools to craft compelling and newsworthy press releases that grab attention and generate media coverage, · SEO-Optimized Blog Articles - Discover AI-driven content generation techniques that streamline the process of creating SEO-friendly blog posts without sacrificing quality · Writing Compelling Ads - Master writing persuasive ads that captivate your audience and drive conversions using AI tools. · Handling Customer Service - Utilize AI-powered tools to manage inquiries and deliver exceptional customer support at scale. …we've got you covered. But we don't stop there. We understand that it's not just about using AI tools—it's about understanding how to use them effectively. Our expert instructors will provide you with invaluable insights and strategies, sharing real-world case studies that demonstrate the immense potential AI holds for your business. You don't need to be a tech wizard or have a large budget to benefit from AI. The AI Productivity Accelerator is designed specifically for entrepreneurs ready to take their business into their own hands—no more outsourcing or relying on others to get things done. With our guidance, you'll become a master of AI-driven productivity, achieving results that surpass even your wildest dreams. https://bit.ly/3PYoxEL Ian Jackson Affiliate ID = 18dc47zmybjpuyc4w0q8ocpcom.fireaiprod

[weirdwonderfulworld]

on trust, being a creative, and fan support

from what i can tell, the reality is that steven, ryan, and shane make content (primarily) for themselves. they make content they want to make. they're trying to make content they're really proud of and excited for. any creator/artist can tell you that being excited for your own work and being the #1 cheerleader of your work is the main driving force that 1) gets work done and 2) makes the art good. for a creative, passion is hugely important. and it is a very good thing that the boys are compelled to want to up the quality and production of their shows, because that means there's a passion there that they're trying to nurse.

now, if the content they want to make requires more money, they're allowed to ask for more money. even though success in their line of work requires views and a certain level of fan support, they're allowed to act for themselves and their own creations. they're allowed to advocate for the art they want to make, art that maybe the fans aren't asking for. yes, it does shatter the misconception that they're doing all this exclusively for the fans. but it shouldn't be viewed as a breach of trust for them to simply ask that of their fans. and imo it shouldn't even be that surprising since that's the main reason they left buzzfeed in the first place—feeling creatively stifled, and feeling like they could make things they're really passionate about, if only they could make the space for themselves.

i think with all that in mind, i would say a lot of the common arguments against the move are essentially rendered void and misplaced. in the end, if someone really hated the move and felt betrayed, they could've just packed up shop and stopped watching; a lot of people did not do that, and i think their inability to cut ties with something they didn't like and was generally harmless was a fault of their own. BUT the only argument that might still stand is this: the bottom line is that if watcher won't listen to what the fans want, watcher won't last.

you're right! they won't. that's probably why they backtracked on the move.

but then i ask you what you truly want as a fan. the main "want" i've heard from people is for watcher to cut down on production/quality, and just focus on the real magic, that is the humor and chemistry between our watcher boys.

but what if watcher knows this and they still decide that they want something else? again, what if watcher wants to focus on creating something larger than two guys cracking jokes on a crappy handheld camera? if they only ever followed the fans' desires over their own, and all their videos from now on was just them shooting the shit on camera, maybe that would be just fine for you! maybe you'd love that content! but would you really be supporting watcher in the end, or would you just be supporting the versions of themselves they molded for you? could you really be a fan of theirs if you denied them the mere attempt at becoming the creatives they truly wanted to be? is getting exactly what you want all the time worth making life shittier and more stifling for the people giving it to you? is that what you wanted when you first followed watcher from buzzfeed?

[glittering-moonlillie]

Rough Sketches (Damian Wayne x Artist! Reader)

Word Count: 2662

Warnings: Very suggestive, mild language

Summary: You knew all along that it was a bad idea to bring that dreaded sketchbook to his house, so why were you surprised to find out that things, indeed, went wrong.

The sounds of your 2B pencil hitting the smooth, white paper filled the silence of the wolf gray room. You started with a circle which, with a few more lines, easily transformed into a diamond shaped face. Next was the pointed nose along with the ears and neck, all of which were drawn with masterful precision. 

The eyes were always your favorite to draw; they were a deep and lively forest shade that made you melt whenever they came into contact with your own.  In this drawing specifically, his eyes were half lidded and showing only a sliver of green, his lips etched into a seductive smirk.

After a few more minutes, you were able to look down at the image of your boyfriend, Damian - shirtless, toned, and looking like he might chain you to his bed if you gave your consent. You held the notebook close to your chest and squealed, face tinted with both embarrassment and ardor.

You were an artist at heart, something that you and Damian bonded over the moment you two met. While Damian drew more realistically, focusing on actual details rather than abstracts, you preferred a more characterized style that personified a person’s personality. It lies between realism and cartoonism. People were always your favorite things to draw. There was always something satisfying about being able to perfectly capture a person with simple lines and colors. 

Over the time span of knowing one another, he quickly became your muse, the person you wanted to practice drawing over and over, and as your feelings for him increased so did your desire to get every single detail of him correctly. This desire continued the day he asked you to be his beloved girlfriend. 

Innocent drawings of his sharp eyes and cheshire smile morphed into something more risque, something dirtier. There were an array of pages with nothing but a shirtless Damian solely based on your secret desire for him to dominate you. 

For that reason, the small art collection was hidden away under the folds of your bed, only taken out during the darkest of nights when you got lonely enough. You were too embarrassed to ever reveal them in the light of day, and you were sure you would die if Damian ever uncovered the sketchbook. If Damian ever did see how perverted you really were, he would undoubtedly break up with you. After a string of terrible breakups, you weren’t sure if you could handle another, especially with the son Bruce Wayne. 

So it was a wonder why you left the sketchbook in your small night bag while you got ready to stay over at his house. It was a lapse of judgment, really, a small misstep that would certainly lead to disaster if you weren’t careful enough. And yet, there was a strong guiding force that  compelled you to take it out and start doodling.  After all, Damian was out on patrol and he said he would be back at 11:15 precisely. It was only 10:30 now, you had time to indulge in mindless fantasy, right? 

Your eyes traveled back down to your newest sketch, your brain trying to decide on whether or not you were disgusted with yourself or if you should be pleased. The drawing itself seemed alright, the anatomy was near perfect but the actual content…well…It felt sinful, like drinking too much bubbly soda that left a deep hole in your stomach and spoiled your dinner. 

As you glared down at your own creation, surgically dissecting the morality of drawing your boyfriend as often as you did (along with the few lude ones) when the window towards the front left of the room began to slide open. You could only watch like a deer in the scrutinizing gaze of a car’s headlights as Damian pulled himself through the small opening. 

“Beloved, I’m home.” He said, an unusual goofy smile plastered on his face. “Dick let me come home early and so I was able to pick up some food for us.”

Any profanity that you had been taught up till now was used at this exact moment to curse anything and everything: Your luck, the cruel gods, Dick Grayson, and most of all, yourself. You should have thrown the sketchbook into the fireplace in the living room once you realized you brought it - or, even better, you should have never created it in the first place.

 You shoved the indecent drawings underneath the dark green sheets.  “T-that’s…wonderful…” You sighed, breath shaky. Any slight oddity in your behavior could lead to Damian’s detective skills to be triggered. “Welcome home, my love!”

You stared at him, doing your best to imitate a calm and collected smile. Damian stared back, grin slowly shifting into something more curious. He took off his mask, tossing it onto his (frustratingly) organized mahogany desk and took a few steps closer to the bed. The food was left on the desk as well, the enticing aroma wafting over and tickling your nose. 

“Wh-what’s up?” You laughed half heartedly, voice trailing off as soon as the laughter escaped your throat. Did he have to tower over you like this -  like a cat about to pounce on his prey? 

“Nothing. I think…I think I just like the idea of coming home to you on my bed like this.” He plopped down onto the bed next to you, part of his darkened cape folding onto your legs. “That and you are acting quite peculiar.”

Lord almighty. 

“O-Oh? I am?” You asked, squirming towards the sketchbook, praying to any demon that would hear you that he would not notice its presence. Your hands crawled towards the book until it covered the huge DAMIAN WAYNE, MY BELOVED label attached to the front. 

Despite your pleas, it seemed that fate had something else hidden up its mischievous sleeves. 

Damian’s eyes narrowed as he scanned your movements until they landed on the haphazardly partially covered book. “Ah, you were drawing. I have never seen that cover before, can I look at it?”

Every nerve in your body seemed to be doused in gasoline fluid, only for him to kindly light a match and toss it, making everything burn inside and out. The blazing sensation rose to your cheeks and clogged your throat until it burned. Damian’s eyes continued to pierce straight through your soul and you realized the longer you took to respond, the more skeptical he will become. 

“Sketchbook? Right, yes, I was drawing while waiting for you to get home. Totally normal, totally fine, not something you would really be interested in.” With hasty hands, you pulled the pad close to your chest carefully so as to not expose the embarrassing label, your arms acting like a steel gate protecting glinting jewels from tempted dragons. 

His lips quirked into a frown and he, with minimal effort, raised a singular eyebrow. “That’s nonsense, Habibti. I always love seeing your art.” 

“I-I really don’t think you would want to see it. I mean, the sketches are really rough and it might melt your eyes off and your eyes are too pretty to be melted.” You exclaimed. 

Damian’s nose scrunched and it was at this moment you realized he did not believe you in the slightest. Unaffected by your behavior though, Damian reached for the coveted drawings swiftly, forcing you to jump off the bed and backpedal to the center of the room. 

“Beloved, this is nonsense. Why can’t I see your drawings?” Like a panther, Damian stalked his way towards you slowly yet purposefully. 

“Because!”

“Because…?”

He stepped closer, making him an arm’s reach away. Close enough to feel the irritation building up inside him. 

“Because I…” You drawed out the vowel. “I want to keep it private..?” It was a lie and you both knew it. Sharing art together was one of your guys’ main forms of quality time and you have never turned down the opportunity to do so. It was a quiet intimacy that allowed the other to see how you viewed the world and there was nothing you loved more.

There was a brief pause, echoing silence filling the room as the two of you engaged in an intense staring contest. It was at that moment, the second Damian’s lips twitched into a tenuous smirk, that you realized you began a competition you already lost. “Forgive me for this, alright Beloved?”

Damian extended his arm and attempted to grab the sketchbook again, resulting in the most terrifying game of tug of war you had ever participated in. Every centimeter of leverage you gained, Damian was there to pull back another 5 inches. You did your best to pull the drawings out of your boyfriend’s grasp but there was no way you could win in a tugging match with one of Gotham’s strongest protectors. 

With one harsh tug, you ended up falling on the carpeted floor of the room, hands empty. Damian’s frame towered over you, one hand trapping you under him and the other holding the sketchbook in his hands. A dangerous smile was plastered on his face. 

He pulled away, resting some of his weight on your lower abdomen and rendering you immobile. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but feel a certain way with Damian on top of you like this. His smirks were always rugged and somewhat sinister in tone, but now, with him on top of you, it felt like electricity shooting through your body and down between your thighs.

He scanned the front of the small binder and chuckled upon seeing the cover. “I see why you wouldn’t want to share this with me, I suppose. A sketchbook with nothing but me? Habibti, I’m flattered.”

You writhed, you pleaded, you begged - but Damian, with a small hum, began to flip through the pages. He would do anything to inflate his already bolstering confidence. With each flip, you counted down the remaining seconds you had of being his girlfriend. Seconds felt like an epoch and worse, you were powerless to do anything. 

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t want to share this with me, Habibti, these are wonderf-”

Damian’s voice waned as he flipped the next page; you could feel the pressure of his body settling, juxtaposed with his slight gaping mouth, curious eyes, and red tinted ears. Another shiver danced along your spine, like a ghost's touch, as he connected his eyes with yours. The intense green pigment left you feeling dizzy yet paralyzed with need, forcing you to close your eyes lest you might fall for him deeper. 

You waited for him to say something, anything, but all he could do was stare. The only comforting noise was the slight ringing in your ears from the loud silence.

“I knew you would think I was disgusting…” You muttered. 

Damian shook his head, eyes crinkling from the accusation.“What? No no…it’s not that, beloved. This isn’t disgusting in the slightest.” He said. “I was just a little surprised, my love.”

With a sigh, Damian pulled your dazed form into his arms and picked you up, carrying you back to the bed and laying you down on the covers. He pressed his lips to your temple delicately. “I want to show you something.”

He inched away with a whispered laugh. Damian lowered himself to the ground and pulled out what seemed to be a hidden box of drawing supplies and papers. 

“I wanted to show you this for a while, Habibti but a part of me was unsure how you would react.” He tugged out a similar looking sketchbook to yours. The cover was scuffed and darkened with age and each paper spilled out, begging for release. Damian stood back up and lightly kicked the box into place under the bed. 

Damian’s hand slipped around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. He held the mess of papers in front of you and as he pressed loving kisses along your exposed neck, he murmured a soft “Look through it.” 

You hesitantly opened the cover and the first image you see is a beautiful picture of you drawn with the loving intricacy of a photograph. Splashes of your favorite color decorated the outline of the portrait and you could discern the collar of the outfit Damian loved to see you wear. The next few pages were all similar to the first with the same picturesque quality; every portrait featured you smiling, flaws and all. 

Damian’s arms wrapped around you tighter, trapping you against him. You could feel his heartbeat matching yours, thumping against your back. His fingers played with your hair, twirling it into delicate curls. The way you were positioned, Damian’s thigh was directly in between your own, and you hated the urge you had to start rubbing yourself against him. 

As you flipped the next page, your vision is suddenly filled with drawings of you clothless, sprawled out and blushing. Damian had never seen you naked and yet every curve felt like looking in a silver lined mirror. Your breathing hitched. 

“I think you have the most gorgeous body in the world,” He said, “I’ve always wanted to worship your body fully but I wasn’t sure if you wanted that or not…”

His finger trailed down your neck to the opening of your shirt, leaving a fiery trail of butterflies in its wake and teasingly playing with the buttons. “I didn’t realize you needed me this badly, Beloved…” He whispered in your ear. 

“D-Damian…”

You shifted around, body suddenly searching - yearning - for something, but you weren’t sure what. It was an exuberant, even wanton, anticipation; a breathless pining that consumed every ounce of your being until your mind became clouded with need. Any previous inhibition you had quickly drifted away. 

There was some more shuffling of papers and yet another soft chuckle emanated. “Darling, if you wanted to know how big I was, you could have just asked.”

He held up another picture from your sketchbook, one where you attempted to draw a fully nude picture of Damian that ended up being scrapped, the only remnant being the question How big even is he? 5, 6 inches maybe? 

Instead of being embarrassed by this though, the comment only furthered your lack of restraint, and you had to slowly rock yourself back and forth against Damian’s thigh to assuage the increasingly empty pit deep within you. Damian’s lips pressed against your neck once more, surely leaving marks to remember in the morning. 

A small whimper escaped your mouth, his hands wandering up further until they palmed your chest. You allowed yourself to move just a bit faster, only for Damian’s hands to trail back down and tightly grab your hips, forcing you to remain still. 

“Damian, what the hell!” You whined. 

“Patience, my love. If you want me to fuck you then you have to calm down, alright?” He turned you around so that you were now face to face and kissed you gently. “This is our first time after all, I want to do it right.”

He continued to press tortuous open-mouthed kisses down your body, unbuttoning your blouse along the way. “You are so beautiful…” He murmured against your skin. 

Your back arched from the hint of pleasure feasting your body, picking away at every last bit of sanity until nothing remained. The comfortable clothes you wore suddenly felt too tight and restricting to breathe.

He pushed you onto the bed so your back was flush against the covers, his frame looming over you, and from the tent of his black pants, you could tell that your estimation of five to six inches was far off. 

“Damian…I need you…” You panted. “Please”

“And you will have me, Y/n.” He assured, the loving smile he only showed you in full view. “But for right now, I just want you to stay still and be good for me, alright?”

So as some of you may seen, I don't have as much experience with writing heavy spicy stuff, so I know that this is probably really bad. But! That's okay! Because one day I am going to look back at cringe, and that will just be a sign of my improvement! Also, I wasn't sure how to end it so...uh...OPEN ENDING-

[hoverboards-and-dragons]

Lucifer’s Fall; told from the Sloth Sin’s  Perspective

Belphegor finds a heavily injured angel and a woman of Creation in the wastelands of hell’s highest crimson ring.

The same ones that just caved in their realm’s roof with an incredible light show.

Despite being aware of the potential threat a powerful angelic being poses to all demons, something compels her to start picking up the pieces before her fellow sins have even finished deliberating on whether they want to kill the pair or not.

~

Hell itself is alive and reacts to Lucifer with cuteness aggression, and to Lilith like a friend group finally gaining one person who’s good at social interaction

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

Belphegor’s tail dragged against the thick layers of red dust covering the ground as she slogged through the endless dark in blind search of a query unknown.

The highest level of hell was a crimson wasteland bathed in impenetrable pitch black. It’s giant expense only sparely populated by roving bands of tiny simple creatures.

The heat and power from which hell had sprung thinned out bare up here and under the shadow of creation, heaven’s light wouldn’t reach.

No demon prince or deadly sin had ever risen from it nor did any of the others wish to claim it despite its grand size, content to consider it the lid caping off their realms and nothing more.

Mammon had probably mentally dubbed it as his, but he wasn’t ready to back that claim up without anything valuable to show for it.

The demon prince of sloth had always been a slave to her own whims. Most of the time that meant she slept with no motivation and thus no ability to do anything at all.

But sometimes, she’s awaken with a vague but unbearable compulsion that would send her scrambling, as helpless to stop herself as anyone else from her mission.

So, she found herself wandering this never ending desolate ring so far from home and bed.

Regardless, her visions had never led her astray before, if they brought her here, there was something to find.

She felt the change in the air before anything else.

Soft light was ever so slightly penetrating through the black above her; washing out the dunes around her. Piercing a dark that swallowed up the glow from even as great a creature as she.

She inclined her head, gaze straining for the source.

A thin white line, like a tear in the very sky itself, slowly wretched apart.

Taking on off-white shades of gold and blue as it deepened and strengthened.

Belle tilted her head. Well, this was certainly getting somewhere interesting. Hell wasn’t a very old realm, she wondered if it was really coming to an end so soon.

It pulsed a few times, fighting through some unknown resistance.

And then it broke.

Belle was forced to look away as painful light burst from the sky, bathing the eternal unseen wastes in harsh white.

Through the sound was inescapable, nearly rupturing her eardrums, a thousand glasses shattering, unknowable violence, rage and desecration retrained to a moment.

And then it was over.

She glanced back up, blinking a few times. Oh, not quite.

The brightness was falling down, the opening quickly sealing behind it, leaving the sky permanently altered.

She could taste it’s power, the energy from that break still echoing forcefully against her senses; no doubt all of hell had felt it.

The other sins were on their way.

But even now, after the break, hell was shifting around to accommodate this new entity, as if a gravitational force they were all being orientated towards. As if it’s mere presence changed the makeup of the entire realm.

It reeked of something powerful, even if temporarily stripped.

There was one more thing.

It wasn’t just entering hell, it was being *given* to hell, bound.

Something the light starved ring accepted eagerly.

The assumedly unwitting and unwilling light source would probably be less excited.

Belle started to move again once she had a good idea of where it would make contact.

She wondered what her fellow sins would decide to do with it, could they feel hell’s unabashed yearning to keep it? If they did would that carry any weight when deciding to destroy or consume it.

Satan would probably be the next here, coming from just one ring below. The others not far behind.

The noise of the actual impact was a little underwhelming when following the realm being thorn asunder.

A slamming, a crash, a scraping skitter. Belle winced sympathetically at a sound that was definitely shattering bones. And then nothing.

It… was a pretty far way to fall after all.

She was pretty sure she heard a woman shriek, but not nearly enough compared to the intensity of the landing.

She continued to trail towards the light, now laying unmoving in a decently large crater.

Another glow caught her eye, not nearly as bright but quite distant.

Golden ichor, spattered across the ground.

A grim gift from Heaven then? Perhaps they had finally come to open relations properly, even if this was rather morbid for their like.

But she supposed even those above needed disposal methods.

Belle peered over the edge of crater, squinting while her eyes adjusted.

“Lucifer-!” A broken cry.

Her head snapped to the voice, another figure in the pit shakily attempting to stumble to her feet.

She smelled of dirt and roses, earthen. *Creation’s* work.

As she scrambled over to the light, Belle could feel hell swirling around her too, equally as fervent but different from its attraction to the glowing creature.

Whatever attachment to realms beyond she has won’t remain for very long. Hell was taking to her as if welcoming her home.

And yes, she could see that now, the light was a being, still alive even, if barely.

The figure desperately pulled it against her, and Belle finally recognized its wings, tattered and scorched as they were. They had seen beings of its like a few times, circling and observing the young hell from afar.

The few direct confrontations said they despised this place, everything in it and every single creature born of it.

“Ya think that little thing’s a threat?” Satan had shuffled up beside her at some point, thankfully keeping his voice low. “Would do us good to end it now.”

The light was yelling something, maybe names she didn’t recognize barely intelligible between the sobs in its ruined throat.

The other sins didn’t take long to follow.

“I say… we eat it?” Beelzebub had been curious about the angel creatures’s taste since she first saw them, Belle was honestly a little shocked at the hesitance. “I dunno it’s just, in a lot of pain. Feels bad, gone sour.”

“The air tingles with its power even in such a pitiful state~” Leviathan hissed, her tail thrashing in derision. “Leave it to bleed, let it die, let it die! While we still can, before it consumes us all in its shadow.”

“If we killin it, we’re goin down there to make sure it’s good and dead and staying that way.” Satan adds “Coward.” He spits quietly in Levi’s direction in spite of their seeming temporary alliance.

“You kidding?” Mammon choked a laugh. “The perfect potential counter to all our enemies falls into our lap, and you wanna chuck it?” He stalked forward, eyes gleaming. “Nah nah, we make it ours.”

‘We’ Belle thought that was interesting addition for him.

“If that becomes the strongest thing in hell, what’ll that make us?” Asmodeus kept his voice steady, not giving either way.

“Masters!” Mammon cheered.

“Slaves!” Levi retorted.

The puddle of gold beneath it was deepening, they’d have to make this decision quickly before it was made for them.

It was good hell had never been a democracy.

Belle lurched her hulk over the side, sliding towards the centre.

She came to stop just before the two. She could see why hell found both so appealing up close.

The woman faced her not with wide eyes like she expected, but careful scepticism, although her exhaustion and panic permeated clearly just below the surface. Judging her not just for a threat, but for potential assistance.

Belle could taste hells energy so much clearer here, how it warred with itself. Desperate to surge forward and take what belonged to it and longing to preserve the glow. The light’s essence writhing in repulsion to the demonic force.

She was exhausted just observing it.

Based on the angel’s shock and fear, it could feel the shadows pressing and snapping against his weakened essence too.

She wondered if the woman could, did she know she was the one thing holding back the darkness from snuffing out her light totally.

“Mistress of Night,” Belle had no idea where the title came from as offered greetings to the pair.

She didn’t seem to recognize it either. “H-hello-? “ she cleared throat, finding her confidence. “Hello. Why do you appear before us?” Even toned, a chance to dismiss the accusation before it needs to be levered.

Belle dipped her head, in respect and in gesture. “Your light is fading.”

Her breath shuddered in dismay, expression breaking for a moment. She nodded tightly. “H-he is.” She swallowed hard. “Can- May you help?”

She stepped closer, bringing up her great claws. “I may. I can.”

The woman hesitated, tightening her hold before allowing her access.

He stared at her with wide eyes, delirious with pain and fully able to view her connection to the dark.

But unable to so much as shy away from her looming form.

Oh yes, taught to despise the demonic he was, how fun.

A distant tiring thought wondered why she was even doing this for the little thing.

She felt him attempt to call upon his magic once or twice, seemingly more out instinct than anything only for it to fizzle out.

She brought her face right down to his, staring into her blank eyes with a mad gaze.

Belle took a deep breath in; blowing out smoke that blanketed him. His eyes squeezed shut but at least he didn’t try holding his breath.

She held a moment.

Before sucking it back in.

She couldn’t say she was surprised at the extent of damage, but it was something to see it all laid out.

Wings burned and torn from air friction, a web of cracks in his skull, all of his ribs had been fractured and two had been entirely scattered, she was sure some of the organ damage came from a wandering bone piece or a couple piercing something.

There was too much organ damage for even her to tell at a glance.

His back was especially a mess, mostly likely bent double in the landing. Including a complete break in his spine that seemed too clean to be from the fall alone, or unintentional; placed at the perfect point to paralyzed all of his six wings at once.

If she wasn’t convinced of his power before, the fact that he was alive at all more than proved it.

Belle steadied herself.

Estimate his limits based on how bad he’s handling the current damage compared to the average; she doesn’t need to get him perfect, just stabilized enough for his magic to begin to recover and take over; just like one of the sins.

She kept her ring and her effort out of others constant wars by playing healer to all sides, she could do this.

She numbed the pain just enough to take the edge off without compromising his reactions. Both of the pair visibly relaxed, she hadn’t realized how much their tension had been getting to her.

If any of the other sins reveal themselves now she’s killing them.

She began moving bone fragments back into place and locking them, disappearing some that were too small or embedded. Stitching the wounds left behind.

She added some magic to assist the faltering bodily tasks and save his body precious energy, as well as avoiding a full system shut down if an organ properly fails for a moment or two.

She seeped the heat from the burns and the tension from his muscles with little else to do.

And she finally breathed.

Well, more heaved painfully as the weight of such draining magic collapsed on her all at once.

It took every bit of effort left not to collapse right then, a dust pile alone wouldn’t be her worst nap spot but the pool of ichor was too much.

She focused down. His body still shuttered even as he fell against the woman and shut his eyes, good, he was still fighting.

“Keep him awake.” She spat, barely managing. Her bedside manners were usually a little better.

But the woman nodded determinedly, staring at Belle with nothing but bewildered but grateful awe.

Before turning her attention back to her light, Belle could practically see the rest of the world disappear to them as she placed a hand on his cheek and began speaking softly.

“The angel needs rest and to be carefully monitored for the next,” she’d never fully treated such fatal injuries before, she had no idea how long they’d take to heal given the chance. “While.”

Belle noted the small nod that said she was still listening.

“Lucifer.” Interrupting her own mutterings. “His name is Lucifer, and I am Lilith.”

“Pleasure. Prince Belphegor of Sloth, my ring is some distance below.” Lilith was already beginning to stand, taking the hint. “You can tell me what happened on the way.” Belle didn’t have enough left in her to be curious at this point, but she had met enough suspicious types to know better than to present this as just charity.

“He ain’t in a state to make that trip,” Belle narrowed her eyes at Satan’s approach. “My ring’s closer.”

“I thought-“

“I just said if we’re gonna put the lil angel out of his misery we do the job good and right, but if we ain’t then we ain’t.”

Belle watched Lilith bristle at the mention of threat. Carefully holding her composure and glaring down the towering bull, “You aren’t.”

“Thems fighting words but guess you’re right, so hows bout another time.” He added quieter. “I like her”

Bee pushed by him. Giving the pair a soft look “Oh, you poor things.”

She buzzed back to Belle. Excitedly announcing, “Yup, I made up my mind! I’m with you, Belle, they’ll taste much better after you fix ‘em up.”

Great, she was so looking forward to the panic that line would inspire in the clearly protective and threatened woman.

“I’ll carry him.” Ozzie offered, and oh thank fuck he did before Belle had to make Lilith choose between the sin that talked about killing or eating her light.

She heard Mammon laugh some ways away. “Good luck with prying ‘im out of her grip.”

Ozzie grumbled something insulting, but one glance at her said he was probably right.

He shrugged, “Then I’ll carry both.”

Lilith perked up, agreeing after a few thoughts.

And they began the delicate process of getting them both comfortable and safely positioned against Ozzie soft chest.

Leviathan kept her gaze targeted square on the sky, long since losing interest in the scene in the crater below.

She still thought dead was a preferable option, but that doesn’t mean she was gonna let herself be left out of the loop just cause her fellow sins didn’t go with it.

The dryness here usually could irritate her, but it was different now.

A barely noticeable breeze, a shifting in the dust.

Feeling less like the nothing after hell ended and before creation began and more like a blank place, a yet to be territory…

An empty ring.

The sky had changed and was changing still, she could she it through the enveloping shade for the first time.

She looked back the angel, she wondered how much it’d take from him, she wondered how much it’ll give back.

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

Hell and Heaven are both cesspools of writhing energy (heat and light respectively) that life is clawing it’s way out of, just with like slightly different aesthetics

This kinda implied hell is only weaker than heaven cause it’s so much younger and I’m lowkey down with that theory

Lucifer’s Fall is honestly a very messy affair to me; way more damage was caused than intended cause 1) it’s the first time Heaven ever did something like it 2) it’s very hard to make a being as powerful as Lucifer leave when they do not want to. It was scrambling mad rush(mostly by Michael) to break his halo and get him out cause his panicked blind resisting kept bringing buildings down and crumbing any angel not an archangel or seraphim like tissue paper

~~

If this is received well enough I might make a part two following Lucifer’s recovery, adjusting to hell and processing what’s happened to him, so ~ reblog ~

It’s going to be apart of a bigger series of oneshots interpreting past events of Hazbin’s universe, From The Very Beginning, if out of order

[demifiendrsa]

Disney Epic Mickey: Rebrushed | Release Date Reveal | Collector’s Edition Trailer

Disney Epic Mickey: Rebrushed will launch for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series, PlayStation 4, Xbox One, Switch, and PC via Steam on September 24, 2024 for $59.99 / £49.99 / €59.99.

Digital pre-orders are available now and include 24 hours of early access to the game on September 23, as well as the downloadable content “Costume Pack,” which features “Steamboat Willie, “Brave Little Tailor,” and “Football” costumes for Mickey Mouse. The “Costume Pack” can also be purchased separately for $4.99.

About

Disney Epic Mickey: Rebrushed brings the magic of Disney to life in a vibrant 3D platformer. This beautiful remake sends Mickey Mouse on an epic journey through Wasteland, a realm of forgotten Disney characters. As Mickey, you will dive into a fantastical world and, armed with paint and thinner, shape your adventure and the fate of this alternate world.

Every stroke of your magic brush matters! Use paint to restore beauty and harmony or thinner to alter your environment and uncover hidden secrets. Your choices influence Mickey’s destiny and change the outcome of this artistic odyssey. Will you become the epic hero Wasteland needs?

Encounter various iconic characters like Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, Walt Disney’s first creation, as you travel between lands in Wasteland. Collect virtual Disney pins, tackle creative challenges, and uncover secrets, all while exploring classic platforming levels inspired by animated films and shorts.

Originally envisioned by Warren Spector, reimagined by Purple Lamp, Disney Epic Mickey: Rebrushed employs state-of-the-art visuals and improved controls to breathe new life into a beloved classic. Experience new movement skills for Mickey, such as dash, ground pound and sprinting. The game’s compelling story makes it an unforgettable adventure for long-time fans and newcomers alike. Join Mickey Mouse and unravel the mysteries of Wasteland in this homage to Disney’s legacy.

Key Features

Explore a reimagined Wasteland, full of Disney’s timeless characters and stories.

Wield the magic brush: Paint to create, thinner to alter. Every choice shapes your story.

Meet Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, Disney’s original star, in a rich, narrative-driven world.

Enjoy advanced gameplay with new abilities and enhanced visuals in a classic setting.

Mickey has new moves such as dash, ground pound and sprinting.

High replayability with multiple endings based on your unique playstyle and decisions.

[lobotomy-jpeg]

ROACH APPRECIATORS!

Looking to add more of Roach in your rotation of blorbos? Curious about the Revenge's cook surgeon? What makes a background character with such few lines so compelling?

There's a whole free zine about his character - including annotated scene by scene screenshots, costume breakdowns, information on Amazigh culture, and links to Samba's interviews, BTS, deleted scenes, and other posted goodies!

You can find it here:

[id: graphic announcing the updated Roach zine - Tender as Hell. A Roach reference zine for artists , writers and creators. By Randy Roy/@royaleminit/bongbingbong, with the link to where you can download it and artwork by the compiler of the zine: A back view of Roach looking somewhere to our left in a sky background. His back is bare. /end id]

Here's the zine contents under the split!

Contents for alt text purposes:

Author's note

Sources

Season 1 costumes

Season 2 costumes

Roach: A character study

Roach's Creations

The Soup

Roach's domain (the galley)

Writing Roach as Amazigh

Terminology

Geography

Different Amazigh tribes

The Touareg people

Food and cooking

Languages

Fanfic recommendations

Season 1 scene by scene analysis

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 6

Episode 7

Episode 8

Episode 9

Episode 10

Season 2 scene by scene analysis

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 5

Episode 6

Episode 7

Episode 8

Drawing references

Final thoughts

[genericpuff]

Genuinely curious as to if you asked permission to use Rachel’s characters and she said yes or if you just decided Lore Olympus is popular enough to make a fan comic of and are hoping you don’t receive a cease and desist? Can anyone create a remake comic of original content and just change what you don’t like about it and it’s considered legal if you say the characters belong to the original creator? There is plenty of disappointing media out there that could be remade. I understand you cannot use their characters for profit so is just posting it ok?

Yes, anyone can, because it's called fanfiction lmao Obviously in my case the term "fan" is being used loosely here as at this point it's more like "foe"fiction LMAO but the same principles apply. Unless I try to claim LO is my own creation or make a profit off Rekindled, I should be in the clear. If legal action was taken against me then it would set a precedent against all forms of fanfiction, rewrite, redraw, etc. content around LO which are all essentially doing the same thing Rekindled is doing. I think people tend to view Rekindled as somewhat of an "exception" that's vulnerable to legal action because it's an actual weekly comic put into practice in the same playing field as LO (though they're on massively different bases obviously LOL), but there's not much more separating it from the LO redraw accounts or even the genuine fan accounts that have learned how to draw in Rachel's style (and use it to make their own LO self-inserts and whatnot). I had the time and resources and experience to do what I do through Rekindled, but every redraw, rewrite, fanfiction, etc. account are making the exact same statement I am, whether intentionally or not - "I do/don't like the canon, but/so here's what I think it would be like if it went like this".

There is definitely plenty of media out there that could be remade, and a lot of them are by the fanfiction writers out there who are filling that niche within their respective fandoms. LO is the one I want to do because it's the one that interests me and compels me the most to rewrite.

Not to mention, it's already a bold statement in and of itself to say that I'm "using Rachel's characters", a statement that likely wouldn't hold up in court LMAO Her "characters" are literally just stylized self-insert versions of public domain figures. She did not write The Hymn to Demeter. She did not create Hades, or Persephone, or Hecate, or any of the other characters she writes about. She does not own an entire religion or its deities. The only thing that she really "owns" is the licensing rights to the name "Lore Olympus", and while the style of LO is very unique and identifiable, you can't trademark/copyright a style because that uproots the entire foundation of what art is (ironically no one has had an original idea SINCE the Greeks, we all just learn and adapt our styles based on other artists that we get inspired by and learn from).

Shit, there are series completely unrelated to LO that get harassed or otherwise warned that they could cross into "legal territory" with LO just because they're Greek myth comics. Punderworld, Theia Mania, H x P Ficlets, all of these are comics that also tackle the H x P myth, and while they aren't attempting to do the same thing as Rekindled (as they exist on their own terms) it's really disappointing when I see people talk about these comics purely through the scope of Lore Olympus as if LO invented Greek myth. If WT/Rachel tried to pull rank over the story's "characters", they'd be picking a fight with every other Greek myth comic, book, movie, etc. and they oughta know that's not a fight they're gonna win lol

So everything beyond LO's branding is, in and of itself, fanfiction. Rekindled is just another level deeper by being fanfiction of a fanfiction. As long as I'm not profiting off Lore Olympus' namesake or distributing my work with the misconception that I created LO, it's legally fine. Morally, I'm sure it doesn't exactly make me a saint to do it, it definitely took a lot of hubris for me to say "yeah I don't like how you wrote your story enough that I felt the need to rewrite it completely" and I wouldn't blame anyone for thinking doing so is icky. There are certain lines I won't cross - I don't use the general LO hashtags because my content is very critical and my work isn't really for the fans, I don't encourage anyone to "show Rachel" what I do here because none of what I do here is obligated to be seen by her (and I know it wouldn't be in her best interest to see it anyways, she's literally said that she doesn't like criticism so why tf would I wanna show her a comic that exists to criticize her work lol), and I'm not planning on posting it to Webtoons because that's Rachel's territory. I don't want to overstep both in the legal sense and in the moral one. I think it's more than enough for me to just post my stuff here for the people who are seeking it, and not profit off it or directly affiliate it with LO/Rachel beyond crediting.

All that said, in a moral and legal sense, what I'm doing is literally the basis of fanfiction, and I wouldn't be going to such lengths and spending this much time every week putting out episodes every week if I never cared about LO and how it made us all feel, even if some of us don't love it as much as we used to.