#I know it's technically unity
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The Little Goody Two Shoes girls' normal and Witching Hour portraits
#little goody two shoes#lgts#rozenmarine lgts#freya lgts#lebkuchen lgts#rpg maker game#rpg horror#rpg maker horror#I know it's technically unity#but it's the aesthetic
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I always love seeing your art on my dash! It's not a medium I see a whole lot if art in, so I was wondering if there's any other AR artists that inspire you and you'd recommend checking out!
@twospirittrickster is the first artist that comes to mind who’s done some cool art gallery stuff with AR painting in particular 😁
there’s also my friends Kevin and Tahnee who’ve made a whole variety of AR projects!
other than that here’s a list of VR artists from the original Tilt Brush days. Tilt Brush was the first big VR art program and it went open source - going on to become Open Brush and then part of Figmin XR. the community is a lot smaller now, but most artists use Open Brush these days.
#auropost#i know a bunch of snapchat/instagram lens creators#who are also technically AR artists but they work in blender and unity and etc#but as far as i know i’m the only full-time AR painter out there#so if you wanna get into this stuff now is absolutely the time#i keep wanting to make a resource post but the tech is literally changing too fast for me to keep up with
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A/N: Hello again, and with this I think (?) I may have succeeded in writing enough bionicle fic to get it out of my system (unless another plot bunny hits me like a cannonball, but... eh, we'll see) and thus, here is the companion piece to the Vakama & Roodaka oneshot.
This time, exploring the scene where Vakama entered the Great Temple, from his side of things! This was also partially inspired by the scene in Challenge of the Hordika where Nokama is almost physically repulsed in trying to enter the Great Temple :)
x
In the tunnels beneath the temple, Vakama must stoop.
At first he shuffles, mutated arm tucked against him and his sole hand brushing only briefly along the floor to steady himself, but the passages are dark and deep and lined with creatures which seek out the weak. The eyes that watch him are not hungry. They keep their bellies too full for that.
In the end, it is easier quicker to drop to all fours, to share the weight between claw and tool that feet alone cannot. His altered form folds into the new stance with frightening familiarity. It's comfortable.
Natural.
The crown of his mask grazes the tunnel's ceiling, but only in passing. His gait is sure. Well. Surer than the ungainly slouch it had been before.
It was said – back when Matoran were awake to say such things – that even the strongest swimmers of Ga-Metru would hesitate before plunging into the depths of the protodermis sea. Not because the creatures there had any fondness for the taste of Matoran. In truth, it was thought that the rahi actively disliked the flavour. No, it was because the way Matoran swam was indistinguishable from the rahi's usual prey. Only when they had sunk tooth and jaw into their meal would they realise their mistake.
It was an annoying, if harmless mistake for the rahi.
Matoran couldn't say the same.
Vakama's early crawl through the passage had been like that of a Matoran swimmer: functional, but slow and indiscernible from wounded prey. Creatures drag themselves down into these depths to die, in hopes that they will be devoured only when they are too far gone to feel it. The eyes are patient. They will wait to see if this newcomer is similarly inclined.
And so when Vakama drops to his haunches, the eyes blink. Reassess. He moves less like the hunted and more like the hunter now, more predator than prey, and the eyes – and teeth – keep their distance after that.
The path Vakama stalks through was once a protodermis pipe, made obsolete even before the cataclysm. Newer conduits had been built, more efficient, more resilient, and this one had been disconnected but never dismantled. When he reaches its origin, it takes some effort – and his blazer claw – to break the seal across the hatchway, but when he does, one of the temple's protodermis purification chambers looms above him.
The room beyond is quiet.
Unmarked.
He doesn't realise he's stopped until the chittering of his audience draws closer. The snarl he throws back echoes off the pipe's walls, and the eyes retreat, but do not leave.
Vakama curls his hand around the lip of the hatch, and then falters.
Something is wrong.
It's not a pain, because the feeling does not hurt as it ought, but something is undeniably, fundamentally wrong. It causes his breath to catch, his hand to flinch, and it would be so easy, so easy, to turn and walk away, only...
Only he came here for a reason.
The wrongness flares, amplified for a moment, and then he pulls himself up. The eyes watch, but do not follow. Do they feel it too? Can even such base creatures sense the innate malice the temple exudes?
He clambers out of the purification chamber – empty and abandoned now – and stumbles upon his landing. He catches himself, but does not rise back to his feet.
Wrong.
This is wrong.
And at the edge of the wrongness there is a strange sort of terror. It dreads the same way the fire fears the sea, the same way the prey fears the predator; it is the meeting of two primally antithetical forces where only one can survive. It whispers turn back through his mind.
He moves into the next room.
It's one he knows well. Light filters down from the rot-stained windows, centering – as it had the day he'd first seen it – on the suva, and casting long sentinel shadows of the columns standing to attention around it. A crack mars the suva, its stone dome now split cleanly in two from the quakes, and – drawn by some desire he cannot identify (instinct, curiosity... nostalgia?) – he approaches.
It seems so small now. Even bowed and altered in his Hordika form, he looms over the Ta-Metru symbol he'd once had to stretch to reach.
Unbidden, his hand moves to the niche where once he'd placed a Toa Stone – where once he had though himself chosen, duty-bound, destiny-gifted – and falters a breath from the stone.
The wrongness spikes.
Screams.
And with a twist of something he will not call horror, he understands it is not originating from himself.
But from the temple.
It is repulsion. It's alienation. It's recognising him, but as other, as rahi.
It's disgust that a monster would dare enter its sanctuary.
In the Ta-Metru carving, stone once polished to the point of fragmented reflection, he sees a glimmer of his own face. Neither Toa nor Matoran. Nothing blessed by Mata Nui.
Vakama recoils.
And then a wave of his own disgust, propelled by that fury that runs so close to the surface now, rolls through him. If you didn't want us as the Toa, you should've stopped Makuta from choosing us, he thinks, and digs his claws into the stonework.
The wrongness sings.
But he knows it for what it is now, and his morphed, clawed hand gorges scars through the carving. The stone is soft. Its makers had never imagined someone would take a blade to it.
There comes a tapping from across the room, echoing brazenly off the ancient stone walls, and Vakama retreats instinctively into the shadows. A Rahaga enters.
Norik?
No, this Rahaga's armour is more akin to a Po-Matoran than a Ta-Matoran's, the colour of dust and stone. Vakama tries to recall the Rahaga's name – and then dismisses the attempt.
It won't matter, in the end.
The Rahaga walks as he always has, stooped and slow, but clearly unhindered by the temple. He passes by the suva and runs one gnarled hand across the stonework, his movements marred by curiosity rather than reverence.
The rage arrives a fully-formed creation. It drowns out the wrongness, floods the apprehension, and he is moving before he's decided that this is the path he wants.
It is not pain, for it does not hurt as it ought.
But it does still hurt.
x
Whatever the Rahaga might once have been, they are old and weak now. Four are captured before Vakama's rage has a chance to cool, but the ire is no less dangerous when it does.
(That's the thing about Ta-Metru; it's not a place of fire so much as it is of magma. And magma doesn't extinguish with the cold; it sets. It moors itself into place, an unmovable, burning force.)
The rage settles, solidifies around his heart and lungs and carves a home between his breaths.
(Magma is not fire. It does not leap blindly from one source to the next. Instead it advances. Slowly. Steadily. It finds a channel, a destination, and it engulfs all in its path until it reaches it.)
He finds the last two remaining Rahaga, pathetically ignorant to their brothers' fates and still scavenging the temple for answers. He hears the way Norik appraises his sister's translation, relief clear in his voice that they are one step further on this wild rahi chase. Relief, surely, that the Rahaga are one step closer to regaining their Toa form.
(And Vakama's anger has found its destination.)
He does not descend on the Rahaga's leader the way he has the others. No. Norik will know what's coming for him first. He gets to fear. Vakama waits until Gaaki has gone, until Norik is alone, and then he circles. The wrongness thrums in his veins, weighing him down and labouring his breaths. It doesn't matter. Let Norik hear his approach.
Norik doesn't try to run. Vakama will give him that much. (A wise choice. Vakama intends for this encounter to last, but if Norik runs, Vakama cannot be sure he won't chase.) Instead, the malformed once-Toa calls out and actually tries to approach him. Stupid. Doesn't he know that he won't win any fight, transformed as he is? As both of them are? No, instead, he tries to talk. As if they are equals, as if Norik has done anything to deserve his respect rather than his scorn. As if he has earned the temple's forgiveness for his trespassing.
Even when Vakama raises the fate of Norik's fellow Rahaga, Norik attempts to sway him with the illusion of reason, talking of duty and unity, as if he's not using the other Toa Hordika to chase after a rahi myth for his own desires. As if their roles are in any way comparable, both Toa of Fire once, both leaders, it's true, but Vakama hasn't forgone his duty to chase after selfish needs.
And it stops now.
Vakama circles closer, and Norik is still talking, unease in his voice, but not fear. Still searching for the right words to turn Vakama to his bidding as he has the other Toa Hordika. Ever the voice of two-faced logic.
Why won't he just shut up?
Does Norik think him to be as gullible as the others? As quick to desert his duty as them?
And Vakama knows he wants – needs – to shake that assurance, that arrogance out of Norik. Needs to see that facade of self-righteous wisdom crumble into the terror of his situation.
The growl begins deep in his chest and, unleashed, it becomes a roar. He rears out of the darkness, into the weak sphere of light surrounding Norik – and there, there he finally sees true fear fill the old fool's eyes.
Something slams into Vakama and he reels, his roar cut short. His hand reaches automatically, defensively, to his mask. He finds only water there. It clings to him, imbued with some sort of power – he can feel something other in it – but otherwise impotent.
"Leave my brother alone," Gaaki snarls. She stands in the doorway, small and hopelessly overpowered, but her shoulders are tensed with a stubborness Vakama recognises. Already, her spinner is powering up for another shot.
Well. Two can play at that game.
Vakama's rhotuka fires into motion, but the water has seeped into the mechanism, and dowses the fire before it has a chance to catch. He gives it a withering look, before turning the expression onto Gaaki. "Very clever."
Another water spinner hits him, but this time he is braced for it and all it does is wash harmlessly off him.
"Is that all you have?" he asks. His blazer claw splutters, but the claws on his hand flex. After all, there's more than one way to defang a muaka...
Gaaki steps back. Good. She knows she's outmatched. "It's a devastating attack underwater," she offers, and her words are strong but there is a cracked edge to them.
"Then you'd better start finding a puddle," Vakama growls, "before my claws find you," and he drops into a run, feet pounding and fangs bared and that ever-present wrongness humming about him.
She doesn't flee. Just like Norik, she stands her ground, gnarled fingers wrapped tight around her staff. Her eyes are hard, but he sees the way her hands shake.
How long will her resolve last, Vakama wonders. Before or after the claws find their mark?
He never finds out.
He's knocked off his feet before he reaches her, and when he hits the ground, ropes of energy pin him to the earth, like a water-bound rahi caught in a net.
What–
Norik.
He'd forgotten Norik.
He thrashes against the restraints, but they hold strong – for now. His blazer claw splutters again, but it does nothing to the energy that binds him.
He stills as he hears footsteps approach.
The two Rahaga hobble into his line of sight. Gaaki is breathing hard, as if only now is she allowing herself to feel the fear. "You left that late, Norik," she says, and even the breath that follows sounds more like a shaken wheeze than a nervous laugh. "Almost too late."
"I only had the one shot. I couldn't afford to miss," Norik replies. "He's got our brothers. Gaaki, go find–"
"I'm not leaving you alone with him," she retorts. "I only went for a moment before, and look what would have happened if I hadn't returned."
Vakama tilts his head as well as the energy net will allow. He grins at the Rahaga, anger curdling it into a sneer. "Yes, Gaaki, you're very good bait, congratulations." He shifts his gaze to Norik. "But you've always been so good at getting others to do your dirty work, haven't you, Norik?"
Norik doesn't even have the decency of guilt. Instead, he simply looks tired. "Whatever you think you know–"
"I know the truth! You don't care about the Matoran, you only care about yourselves!" He strains against the ropes, and although they do not break, there's a little more give in them than before. He slumps back to the ground, breathing hard. "You might have the other Toa fooled. You might even have the temple fooled, but not me," he growls, and the temple's hatred presses down on him, straining his last words.
Gaaki places a frail hand on her brother's arm. "Norik," she says, and there is such unbearable sorrow in her voice. "He looks in pain."
"It's not my doing," Norik assures her softly. "My snare spinner only binds."
Vakama snarls. "I don't need pity from the likes of you. I know what you are."
"We're allies, Vakama," Norik says, in that insufferably reasonable way of his. "Friends."
"You're frauds," Vakama snaps. He twists against his restraints. They slacken, just a touch. "Liars. You don't deserve to walk these floors."
And the Rahaga stand there, unburdened by the temple's hate, strangers to this land, to Metru Nui, and yet it is Vakama the temple repulses? After everything he has forgone, the life he's abandoned, the friendships he's lost, Mata Nui punishes him?
His rhotuka fires off a fire spinner, and it goes wide, cracks a wall. Norik and Gaaki stumble back, Norik preparing another snare shot, but the energy net holding Vakama snaps. Vakama lurches forward, suddenly free, and slams into Norik.
The snare spinner wraps itself around a column. It lights up the room with crackling energy.
A blast of water grazes past his shoulder, too shy of hitting Norik to commit to taking the easy shot, and Vakama reels towards Gaaki. He fires with a snarl, but hears the snare spinner coming again and ducks at the last moment.
Again his own attack misses and the shot cleaves clean through a wall. Something on the other side begins to smoulder.
Then it begins to rumble.
It's a low sound at first, as deep as the earth and just as vast. Almost like a distant growl. But then the cracks begin to spiral out across the roof, along the columns, and the room buckles.
The light flickers. The frames of the high windows above collapse.
The world becomes fragmented, filled with flickering images. Falling masonry and toppling pillars and dust – but the sounds never relent. Even in the depths of the passing darkness, the thunder continues.
And when the dust settles, so does an awful silence.
Vakama straightens, or does his best approximation of it. Fragments of cracked protodermis fall from his shoulders, his head, his back. He withdraws the hand which has somehow found itself raised above Gaaki, knocking aside the stone slab caught against his arm.
Where's Norik?
Both Hordika and Rahaga stand side by side, that quietness disturbed only by the skittering of stone shards settling. There is wrongness in his breath, his head, and it's impossible to separate where the temple's ends and his begins. But any moment now, Norik will reappear from the wreckage, bearing that ever-same holier-than-thou look, and the anger will rise anew in Vakama.
Any.
Moment.
Now.
"You've killed him," Gaaki says, and her voice breaks that terrible stillness. She draws in a half-breath that cracks into a sob. "You've... oh, Norik..."
No.
No, it was an accident. He hadn't meant to– Norik had simply been in the wrong place. It wasn't as if he'd taken a blazer claw to Norik, or hit him directly with a fire spinner. He'd only meant to... what? What had he only meant to do?
Something swings towards him and he grabs the staff before he even registers what it is.
"He's not dead," Vakama says, and maybe if he says it, he might even believe it. He snaps his gaze to Gaaki, as if her grief is bringing it to pass. "He's not. He's not as easy to kill as that. When the others– when the Toa find him, he'll be fine. Fools like him always find a way to survive."
Gaaki attempts to pull her staff free, but her strength is no match for Vakama's. He wretches it out of her grasp and tosses it aside.
"Stop that."
She doesn't listen to him, only steps back and charges up her rhotuka. The grief in her eyes fogs into hatred.
The water spinner hits him but does little more than rock him.
"Stop."
Gaaki screams, a sound of rage and anguish, and releases a volley of spinners as ineffectual as the first.
Vakama's patience – or whatever had held him in place until now – snaps. He lunges forward. His claws close around the joints of Gaaki's rhotuka and pins the mechanisms harmlessly into place, in the same manner one might pick up a baby ussal crab by the widest edge of its shell. She thrashes, but Vakama's grip holds.
"I said, stop," he snarls.
She's breathing hard, her gasps sharp-edged with agony. "You killed him," she says, voice hoarse and hateful.
His insides twist, and – Gaaki hauled by his side – he starts the ascent to where the rest of the Rahaga are trapped. He doesn't look back to the rubble. Doesn't glance for one last glimpse of Norik's resting place.
He's not dead. He's not dead he's not dead he's not
The wrongness, the hatred, has woven so deep into him, it's almost a part of him now.
Toa don't kill. Vakama can't remember who taught him that (he recalls, briefly, the flash of a gold mask, but it comes with pain – grief – and he pushes it aside before it can take root) but it gnaws at him like a trapped stone rat. Toa don't kill.
But he was never meant to be one.
And if the Great Temple – if Mata Nui – thinks a mistake was made in Vakama's destiny....
Well. That's somebody else's problem.
x
The Hordika that returns to Roodaka is different from the one she sent out. There's something new in his eyes... or perhaps something lost.
"How was the temple, Vakama?" she asks when it's just the two of them.
He looks to her. Beneath the anger, beneath the rahi, there's almost a haunted look to those eyes. It vanishes a moment later, but Roodaka never doubts her own eyes.
"Unwelcoming," he replies, and Roodaka smiles. She could have suggested Vakama pick the Rahaga off one by one in the chaos of Metru Nui, outside where her Visorak could have been an aid... but the temple had been too good an opportunity to miss.
"Good." She sets a hand on his shoulder. "You owe no loyalty to Mata Nui, Vakama. Not anymore."
He rolls his shoulder, but not sharp enough to dislodge Roodaka's hand.
"One thing I do not understand," she says. "What happened to the sixth Rahaga?"
The Toa growls. It is a gutteral sound, rooted deep in the chest and at home in a way it wasn't before. "You wanted a message left for the other Toa. I needed a messenger."
"Alive?"
Vakama shrugs his shoulder again, and this time she lets him roll her hand loose. "Does it matter, so long as they understand?" he growls.
No, Roodaka concedes as she surveys the remains of the Toa before her. She supposes not.
#bionicle#cat writes#lego bionicle#do i have a weakness for the hordika arc? you'll never know#(yes. look i was a well behaved 12year old kid who loved plots about characters going feral. i ate the hordika plotline up)#(and two decades later or there abouts i still have nostalgic fondness for it)#heya so how do we feel about vakama returning to the temple and finding it is repulsed by him?#a discovery that might not only confirm he wasnt chosen by mata nui but has been forsaken#and yeah this was the fic i technically titled 'damned'#but also casually thought of it as 'god called to let you know he hates you personally'#because that's definitely a normal thing to name a fic#also yes i like the idea that roodaka pushed vakama to enter the temple knowing he would feel abandoned by mata nui#and thus helps sever the 'destiny' part of the three virtues#i like the idea that just like matau had to invoke the three virtues to get vakama back#roodaka worked on severing vakamas ties to the three virtues to get him to turn his back on the others#and while she succeeded with unity and destiny#duty she could only derail or corrupt rather than sever entirely#and that (esp since duty is vakamas whole shtick) is why matau reminding him of his duty finally worked#i'll probably add this and the stasis tube au to ao3 in time#but for now it goes here
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Yeah welcoming criticism and I would prefer to see individuals judged rather than classes or groups; what I see often is that right wingers use the old testament to justify a lot of what they do, while Jesus did indeed get killed for refuting that old testament. And no one is perfect, but like, calling out atheists hits like biased gossip, just call out the atheist who you specifically disagreed with or listen and learn more(?)...
Without asking anyone to believe anything, it is always fun to poke holes in the right-wing religious aggression with the cheat code of just Googling quotes by Jesus, it meets them at their language in a way that forces a confrontation with them and their claimed God.
I wouldn't say someone on a healing journey getting away from that toxicity is a part of the problem, I assign blame top down and Joel Osteen et al and all the preachers-in-business-suits are doing just fine, my pet stereotype is genuinely if the preacher's in a business suit, I won't trust it. Every preacher in a church I trusted always had a gown on with a robe and decorative sashes. There's always balance to find, and I would rather help teach vernacular and argumentation than put any one class or group down. Individualize the blame and democratize the love, I say....
Hey non-Christians, every time you're like "ummm akshually Christianity is inherently oppressive because the Bible says XYZ (and you have to agree with this interpretation and follow it to be Christian)", literally all you're doing is agreeing with the uberconservatives who are making sure Christianity stays oppressive instead of permitting alternate interpretations and alternate ways of approaching its texts. You aren't part of the solution, you're part of the problem.
#go team unity#argumentation cheat code- google jesus quotes#forget googling the bible#Jesus quotes can refute everything in the right wing consciousness#you don't even have to believe in Jesus to quote him at least like a philosopher you know your enemy is sworn to respect#and if they deny the word of Christ Jesus then you can forcibly remove their Christian card#haha it's fun to do that I deputize you#I'm a former church deacon too#so uhhh#haha for whatever that's worth#indeed a justice-first approach puts the most guilty at the forefront#indeed Joel Osteel et al are there#on a journey to help leftist spaces blame less and educate more#may we transmute desires to blame into the drive for justice!#we have more to gain in learning each other's vernacular than in attitudes of blame#indeed blame is a low vibration perhaps born of guilt on the op's end#i don't blame op for blaming it can be a rewarding instinct#but blaming classes of people is just problematic across the board-#if there's an individual atheist OP wants to call out for something they actually said- that could be valid#but this technically hits of a bit of stereotyping against atheists and I know plenty of cool woke atheists#every group or religious perspective is diverse...unwise to make assumptions and stereotypes#so even i won't be trusting every preacher who dresses in robes as i put it...#trust is earned...#existential vibes#noting by 'old testament' i'm referring to the books really outside the pentatuke#jesus didn't overturn the 10 commandments or something- I just mean he did add quite a bit...
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" Don't look at me with those eyes. "
DRAGONS RISING WHAT IF/AU
Technically not a spoiler since I've had this thought since the beginning of DR and we all know the glowey orb bits are wu
Anywho, HUSK!AU Wu
I shared this only a little bit, but never with any proper drawings. In this what if/AU, Wu had split his body from his soul, ENTIRELY. As the name Husk suggests. Stripping himself of whatever made him human, all to make sure the ninja have a fighting chance to find eachother again. After all. Unity is key.. His soul split into fragments in different realms, the portal gates being something of wus creation, being a dragon and all, he's created these to give the ninja better access in teleporting, this is HIS power gifted onto the monastery.
His form is weak, fragile, and unable to fully return unless he fulfills his goal, and that is to find and reunite his family once more. All in the whole his body is..somewhere else, lost? Perhaps with garmadon? Even he could barely remember, now. His body retains memory, consciousness. Just not the emotions that attached themselves to them.
It is a vessel made to survive.

#master wu#ninjago#ninjago wu#ninjago master wu#wu#ninjago dragons rising#garmadon#zane#kai#lloyd#cole#jay#lloyd ninjago#ninjago au#dragons rising ninjago
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ECG Test #4
I added heart sounds to my resus game. This was a lot harder to accomplish then I thought it would be. I originally planned to just use a heartbeat sound effect, but there was a major problem. The heartbeat needs to speed up and slow down with the heart's bpm, otherwise the sounds will overlap. The only way to change the speed of a sound effect in unity is by changing its pitch. Doing so would sound awful at high bpms, and the effect would become completely inaudible at low bpms.
Instead, I created the sound procedurally. Doing this in unity is also very difficult, and I had to do a lot of research to figure out the best way to accomplish this. I might make a longer post about this, because the solution I used ended up being very technical and low-level. I'm still not completely happy with the procedural sound effect itself, so if anyone has any feedback on how it can be improved let me know.
#resus#cpr resus#resus community#resus art#resus animation#anime resus#cardiophile#rescue theater#ecg#ekg#heart#heartbeat#female heart#fast heartbeat#beating heart
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Imagining the political and religious fallout of the Oblivion Crisis
There are actual in-lore examples of what happened after the crisis, but besides vague mentions of civil wars and the Aldmeri Dominion completely rewriting history and denying Martin's involvement in ending the Crisis, there's not a lot of detail on what happened. So here are some of my opinions/headcannons about the post-Oblivion Crisis empire:
What happened to Martin would spark fierce theological debates and possibly even small-scale holy wars for the next two centuries within the Imperial Cult leading schisms, censoring, and violent labeling of rival dissidents as heretics.
Imperial loyalist/traditionalists would try to utilize definition loopholes to insist that there's no evidence that Martin actually died and therefore is still technically emperor.
Some religious zealots (Calaxes Septim types) would go even further to insist that not only is Martin not dead, but that he also ascended to godhood like his ancestor Tiber/Talos and -since he has no know mortal heirs- the empire should revert to a strict theocracy, not entirely unlike in the days of the Alessian Order, just polytheistic.
Petty lords and council members would scramble to fill the enormous power void left by the line of emperors, some out of genuine concern for the unity and stability of the empire, others out of greed and power lust, pushing themselves or their chosen champions as contenders for the Ruby Throne
There would be dozens if not hundreds of phony heirs (think of princess Anastasia contests) and distant relations popping out the woodwork of Tamriel to vie for recognition. Some would develop devoted followings amongst the citizenry and actually end up inciting peasant riots. There would be assassinations and backstabbing and chaos.
Sensing blood in the water, the provinces will naturally start to test the limits of the Elder Councils ability to govern, taking advantage of the political turmoil and collapse of Imperial infrastructure to invade their neighbors, seize lands, and become more or less autonomous until the war with the Dominion eventually forces them to take sides.
By 3E 433, the dust would have barely settle from the Warp in The West, the upheaval caused by the Crisis and ensuing Imperial breakdowns, would reignite old strifes and lead to new wars between feudal states in the Illiac bay region.
The collapse of infrastructure and security across the empire would be a nightmare on shipping and mercantile industries, and crops lands would realistically have been devastated throughout Tamriel by the invasion causing shortages and trade disruptions and even mass starvation and outbreaks of disease in some places.
There's a lot more detail you could go into here if you broke it down province by province, but I think this paints a decent overall picture of the absolute chaos that would follow the end of a dynasty and an apocalyptic scale natural disaster like the Oblivion Crisis.
#tes iv: oblivion#martin septim#the elder scrolls#oblivion remaster#oblivion fanfiction#aldmeri dominion#tesblr
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Hello I hope you’re having a nice day!! I don’t know if you’ve answered this before but I had a question concerning The Sandman about a debate I can’t get a clear answer to.
About Desire and Unity’s relationship; would it be considered rape? In my initial interpretation (as someone who became a fan via the show and hasn’t finished the comics yet) I interpreted the comic’s mention of it as being through the perspective of the doctors — the only conclusion that would be understandable in the waking world. In the show, Unity regards Desire with fondness/nostalgia, so I assumed they ‘seduced’ or ‘courted’ her in her dream and thus was fairly consensual. But because it’s a very very complex and impossible situation, would it still be considered rape since she didn’t technically consent in the waking world? Does her consent hold the same gravity since she wasn’t fully aware? Would Unity herself consider it rape/sexual assault?? Are the situations (comic vs show) different canons??
(Again I haven’t finished the comics so maybe this has already been answered, I get confused and lost by small details very easily so my media literacy isn’t always the best lol)
What’s your general feelings on this?? BTW THIS IS NOT ME CONDEMNING YOU FOR EITHER OUTCOME OF COURSE!! I think these conversations are very important to have in all sorts of medias. And I know it’s especially difficult and even unfair at times to hold supernatural beings or situations to the same justices or perspectives as humanity. Also the time period would probably affect things as well. I just wanted to know cause Desire is one of my favourite characters and I’m not sure if I should feel guilty for that. Anyways I’m rambling THANK YOU FOR READING I LOVE YOUR WRITING ‼️
(Sorry if I was meant to censor rape I forgot if tumblr censors it or not 🤡)
Unity fell in love with someone in her dream, had a number of interactions and had consenting sex with them in her dream. In the waking world, her body parthenogenically reproduced. No physical interaction occurred in the waking world. No DNA was exchanged.
Beyond that, you're on your own.
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imagine noticing spencer's hair since he started growing it out. you didn't notice the signs at first of how it was falling down to his cheekbones or when it was long enough to have a hair tie on his wrist, and you were so blind to the blindingly obvious signs that sometimes you didn't even think he was actually doing it till he was up to something. like when he was slightly hunched over at the police headquarters in a rather hot spot where the temperature was so high that the windows opened to let in the slightest wisp of wind, but everyone was so sticky and sweaty that the feeling was oppressive, the fabrics of clothing sticking to the skin, but, then, while you used a scrap of paper as a blower, you saw how he pulled his hair back into a little tail and it took you about ten seconds to formulate a cohesive thought.
with a few strands of hair matted to his forehead and his cheeks flushed from the heat, his skin shining with drops of sweat and his hair wrapped in a messy way behind his head. you continued to fan your face as your other hand held a folder, you put it down on the table as you stood in front of him. at first, he looked at you confused, you'd spent hours helping him with the geographical profiling and declined to do anything purely outside of work. to avoid inconvenience and stuff. so you tried not to get too close.
but there was something in the way he frowned at the board, in the blush on his cheeks thanks to the stifling heat, in his hair falling everywhere that you simply had to do it or else you'd explode. you put a hand on his face, he shivered a bit at the contact and smiled shyly at your touch, not without first glancing away to check that no one was watching you, but you couldn't care less. pulled his face close to yours and gave him a gentle kiss, so quick that he had to lean his head forward waiting for more. your hand moved around the strands of hair, soft, fluffy, still smelling a hint of that rosemary shampoo you found on the internet and loved to use because its scent permeated you, as if you had him with you, put the tresses behind his ears to avoid obfuscating his view, yet his hand reached for your hip, pressing gently against the skin.
"what was that for?" he asked, unable to hide the surprise and fun in his tone of voice. "it's not a gripe."
you shrugged your shoulders, still caressing his hair and his head tilted at your touch, lost in your eyes and in the brightness that inhabited them when you looked at him.
"i just think i'm actually starting to like you with your hair like this." you whispered, now gently pressing his chin with your fingers. "can you keep it forever? i could braid it. i'm sure you'll look good."
he laughed, kissing your finger. "i'd look stupid with a braid."
"you'll be like a viking but without the terrifying part. more like really smart viking with extraordinary massage skills." you nodded, noticing how he tried to breathe through his nose as your touch deliberately passed over the back of his neck. "please?"
"well technically the vikings wore the braids to protect their energy during battles as much as to have unity and strength with their people. it's not a really esthetic thing and..."
you gave him another kiss, this time considerably longer than the last. he hummed against your mouth at the interruption and hugged you as his lips danced in time with yours. your hands held his face and you pressed yourself to him, just enough to brush against his chest. you loved that he hugged you when you kissed him as if he was afraid for an instinctive moment that you would vanish into his arms without knowing it, especially when his hold was sweet, tentative and gentle.
when you pulled away, he smiled at you, completely mesmerized. "you know what? forget it. i'll let you braid my hair if you do that again."
you laughed, giving him a gentle push to take the file again. "here? they'll catch us."
the offended look he gave you made you grin, his brow furrowed and his lips tainted by your lip gloss. "i don't think that's fair."
"sorry, baby. i don't make the rules." you mumble, slipping your fingers around the extra black hair tie you had on your wrist. you took spencer's hand and slid it through. though, he reached around you, pressing your hand affectionately. "there it is. it's boring, but it's mine. just remember to keep it with you later because you're going to be my testing doll."
he didn't take off the hair tie until you said it that night, lying on your lap and drowsy from the feel of your fingers sliding nimbly over his hair, because, if he was honest, he was beginning to like having something of you on him. as he belonged to you.
and he was more than delighted with the idea.
#i'm gonna spread jesus reid propaganda#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid imagine#posted from work 💔💔#sorry for the mistakes
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so i had this dumb au idea
basically an au where belos just...misses out on the finale. instead of possessing animals until he regains a corporeal form he sleeps in the dirt like a hibernating toad and emerges 5 years too late to the party
he's a bit weaker while the hexsquad is a bit stronger so they are currently a bit more even (though waiting for the day he might regain his full strength is a big worry). he's also technically immortal as they can't kill him and get it over with plus he's a slippery bastard so imprisonment is not on the table either. right now he's just an annoying albeit still dangerous guy they have to keep watch of
also knowing he's weaker means that belos can't just waltz into the demon realm and pick up where he left off anyway. his resources are gone, he burnt what little bridges he had left on the day of unity, and he's not strong enough to take on anyone so he's biding his time and he totally has a new plan to eradicate witchkind and he's not going to tell anyone about it. maybe it's not too late to carry out his mission!
#my art#toh#the owl house#emperor belos#luz noceda#tbh i don't exactly know what direction of the au i wnat but at the same time it's also a shenanigans with belos in the human realm au#idk it is also a cringey self indulgent au so theres that as well#too late au
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"...We're two sides of the same coin, aren't we?"
The whispered confession falls clumsily out of Pure Vanilla's mouth, almost dragged out, bitterly sweet and strange on his tongue. The words are addressed to his own stained candy glass visage, spilling tendrils of bright blue light across the Solarium of Unity despite the almost suffocating darkness invading the rest of the space.
He knows this isn't really the Solarium of Unity, and he knows he isn't just speaking to a window. The lurking shadows, thick like molasses and blinking every once in a while, give that away. Even if it didn't, there is a haziness here that exists only in dreams, and a lack of the deep tiredness that has been plaguing him as of late.
"Oh, are you finally ready to admit that?" Sure enough, Shadow Milk Cookie's voice comes from all sides, far too cheerful. The candy glass melts and warps before him, the blues darkening until Shadow Milk stands in his place, far more detailed than the artisan silhouette he replaced. His grin is mocking as he looks down at Pure Vanilla, who cannot help but feel uncomfortable at the sight of their appearances blurring together like that, even though he had been expecting something along those lines. "Too bad though – you can't admit something that's wrong!"
"Huh?" It catches Pure Vanilla by surprise. It had been difficult emotionally, but logically straightforward to admit they were two sides of the same coin. He couldn't imagine how that could be wrong, and acting upon an old habit from his student days, he finds himself frantically unravelling that conclusion in his head again to figure out the issue.
Shadow Milk doesn't give him the chance, tutting as he shakes his head in mock disappointment. "You must have a brain in there, can't you use it?" He laments theatrically, contorting himself into an odd shape against the edge of the window pane. Then, again barreling on before Pure Vanilla can reply, "Look, think of it like this. To say we're two sides of the same coin means that we have similarities, even if we are otherwise opposites. That is true to an extent, but it makes our differences sound way more clear cut than they actually are. It may be easier for you to believe, but we aren't really opposites. That would imply I am not whole, and I can assure you, Soul Jam aside, I am just as I always was!"
Ah, so it's a matter of wording. Pure Vanilla isn't sure why he is entertaining this - no, it's because he doesn't want to give Shadow Milk the satisfaction of turning away from the truth. Even now, Shadow Milk's eyes squint cheekily at him, daring him to try and end the conversation.
"Then... we are made of the same components in a different composition." Pure Vanilla tries, a little frustrated with his own hesitance, but it is difficult to tell how Shadow Milk wants him to answer when he isn't making it blatantly obvious.
"So close!" Shadow Milk sighs dramatically as he snaps his head to the side so sharply it makes Pure Vanilla wince, imagining the cracks that would cause on any other Cookie. "But you're relying on technicalities. It's much simpler than that."
It dawns on Pure Vanilla, then, exactly what Shadow Milk is aiming for, the realisation making his insides crawl. He doesn't have to say it, not really, but he isn't sure what Shadow Milk will do if he doesn't, and he unfortunately doesn't have the ability to wake himself up on command.
So he takes a deep breath, fidgeting with his staff as he says, even less than a whisper yet twice as loud. "We're... We're the same. Is that what you wanted me to say?"
"Ding-ding-ding!" Shadow Milk trills, suddenly reaching through the candy glass to grip the window frame and lurching forward across the threshold, leaving a mess of shattered glass behind his head like a halo. It startles Pure Vanilla, who instinctively shifts his foot back, only to be instantly locked in place as the reaching shadows soldify around his legs, its eyes winking up at him playfully. His grip on his staff tightens, willing it to shed its light, the beginnings of panic stirring within him at the restraint. The staff does, but the shadows seem to eat the light without a problem.
Pure Vanilla is so distracted by the shadows that he doesn't notice Shadow Milk's hands until they grab his face. His heart jumps in alarm, and his eyes dart up to find half of Shadow Milk leaning down out of the window, far too close. He is grinning at him, wide and self-satisfied, and his hands are cold and harsh. "See, I knew you had a working brain! Yes, the right answer is that we are one and the same."
He pinches and pulls at his cheeks, and Pure Vanilla tries to cringe away, tries to manuver his staff between them. It doesn't work, if only because hands emerge from the darkness to anchor his staff too.
"But that isn't true." Pure Vanilla mumbles when he isn't able to wiggle his way out and Shadow Milk still shows no signs of stopping, hoping the argument will make him lose interest in his face. "I admit that there are similarities between us, but we aren't really the same."
Shadow Milk pauses, his grip tightening until it borders on pain, and for a moment, Pure Vanilla thinks he may have miscalculated.
But then Shadow Milk snickers to himself, releasing his face entirely and pulling back, his hands resting lightly over Pure Vanilla's shoulders. The brush of weight keeps Pure Vanilla from relaxing, but it is a bit of added distance, at least.
"Aren't we? Well, you are the biggest liar, so I should have expected you would lie to yourself too." Shadow Milk hums, almost sounding delighted at this turn in conversation. It unnerves Pure Vanilla, because he had assumed his disagreement would annoy him.
Instead, Shadow Milk smirks, his many eyes glinting gleefully at him. "Listen carefully, Vani, because here's the truth." He says, his voice dipping into a wicked purr that seems to shudder through Pure Vanilla's whole body. "All the things you hate that I have done, you have the capability of doing too. After all, you've already used people for your own gain, haven't you?" Shadow Milk leans closer with a condescending lilt to his words, shifting his hands so he can wrap his arms loosely over his shoulders, and Pure Vanilla freezes under the touch. "Oh, I know you think it was necessary, but you still sent those naive, tiny Cookies off to carry out your errands for you, regardless of the dangers. That's only a few steps behind what I've done, you know, making people dance to my tune. The only difference between us is severity and time."
The words sink heavily to Pure Vanilla's stomach, not quite true but not quite not true, and he feels a little lightheaded, fingers twitching against his staff. Maybe it's because of that, or maybe it's because of his discomfort from the close proximity, but he finds himself distracted by the way Shadow Milk is talking. He carries his usual air of showmanship, but it is nowhere near as exaggerated as during his brief takeover of the Faerie Kingdom. With his insistence of specificity, his mention of technicalities, his structured method of explaining things, he almost sounds like a–
"We are the same," Shadow Milk repeats, tilting his head to the side, the glow of his eyes burning holes through Pure Vanilla, "and one day, you'll end up just like me."
A scholar.
That makes sense – at some point, his virtue had been Knowledge, and nobody seeks it out as fervently as a scholar – but it still feels like a surprise. Pure Vanilla had always known that Shadow Milk was different, once, but only in the sense that the fact existed in the back of his mind.
"No rebuttal, hmm? Are you ready to accept that?" Shadow Milk asks smugly, slightly impatient with Pure Vanilla's lack of response, but mostly watching him expectantly, as if waiting for a bomb to go off.
Pure Vanilla has never thought about what Shadow Milk might have been like, before he became like this. There was no reason to even consider it. But now, he can't help but wonder, because while he cannot imagine this chaotic, brutal Beast, this great unknown evil, as anything else – Shadow Milk still carries echoes from a past life that he doesn't seem to notice enough to hide with his lies.
"...If we are the same," Pure Vanilla finally scrapes his thoughts together enough to reply, carefully, "then doesn't that make the opposite possible too? That, one day, you will become like me and return to the light?"
Shadow Milk blinks once, his face falling blank. He blinks again, all of his eyes in quick succession.
And then he throws his head back and laughs, the movement jostling Pure Vanilla in the process with his arms still firmly around his shoulders. It sounds unhinged, ricocheting across the room, but it is openly amused. It makes Pure Vanilla antsy, especially with how it rings in his ears like an explosion from their closeness.
He wonders if Shadow Milk's laugh was different, before everything. It must have been. He wonders what it sounded like, and immediately realises that he's being ridiculous. The realisation that a before exists seems to have opened the floodgates in his mind, and now thoughts of hypotheticals can't help flitting in.
"You say such silly, silly things." Shadow Milk bites out offhandedly as his laughter winds down, the lingering remnants still dancing on his tongue. Without warning, he pulls Pure Vanilla even closer, the darkness that had been keeping him in place swirling and shoving him forward. Pure Vanilla gasps, the sound catching in his throat, and one of his hands fly off his staff to reach for something to steady himself on. It finds an edge of shattered candy glass, flinching back and falling down to scrabble against its smooth, intact surface.
Shadow Milk is giggling at him and Pure Vanilla is mortified, horribly so. They are far, far too close, Shadow Milk's face taking up the near entirety of his vision and their upper bodies almost pressed together. It feels claustrophobic, which should be impossible in such a wide, open space.
Shadow Milk makes matters worse by pressing their foreheads together, the gesture weirdly tender and doing nothing to make Pure Vanilla any calmer. His bright blue eyes look directly through him, dissecting him piece by piece.
"Why don't you cut down the Silver Tree and find out?" Shadow Milk coos, his voice overlapping with the Light of Truth's in a deeply unsettling way. His presence is overwhelming.
Pure Vanilla's eyes flicker downwards to escape his piercing gaze, and finds their chests so close that their Soul Jams are overlapping. Overlapping, and not touching, because Shadow Milk's Soul Jam seems to fizzle out of existence where the other makes contact with it, as if it were an illusion. Behind it is an empty space, black as the abyss. With the way they are lined up now, it is obvious that Pure Vanilla's Soul Jam would fit perfectly into the crevice with a little turning. He knew that already, but it still feels strange to see it.
Pure Vanilla sighs, a long, thin, shuddering sound. "...You didn't truly believe that would work, did you?"
In the edge of his vision, Shadow Milk smiles tauntingly, all teeth, but he doesn't say a word.
And Pure Vanilla wakes up, off kilter, exhausted and oddly cold.
[next]
#sm flirting: hey wanna debate the fluidity of ur identity and morality and have a crisis? wanna make out over it?#if ur confused dw i was confused writing this too. sm strikes me as the type to say the most convulted stuff for funsies#also he is scheming. idk what exactly but he certainly is!!#and poor pv is just along for the ride#pure vanilla cookie#shadow milk cookie#shadowvanilla#vanilla milkshake#echo paradox au#the biscuit library
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currently thinking about how dark enchantress is technically WLC and how maybe her weakness is still PVC deep down
It definitely could be true.
While I was writing the chapters for my PureLily fic, Love is like a Poison , I found myself pondering about it in my free time lol mainly to get a better understanding of WL's character
Idk if I have said this here before but I see White Lily Cookie and Dark Enchantress cookie as Kagome and Kikyo from Inuyasha as their characters resemble eachother perfectly.
Just like Kagome and Kikyo, both are the same as they share the same soul but with two different halves and beings.
When their souls split and DE was born, they got divided in two halves.
Just like Dark Enchantress Cookie's birth was through a tragic event and basically the "death" of White Lily Cookie where she split in two
As shown in her gacha animation too
Kikyo's tragic "death" is what caused the birth of her reincarnation
But also a hollow version of her when she was brought to life again unfairly.
Just like the Shikon Jewel which shall never again choose her or shine for her in her rebirth, the light of freedom shall NEVER shine for DE because just like Kikyo, upon death both of them were reincarnated as former shells of themselves, born with only resentment, revenge and hatred towards the world, the last feeling they felt before they died.
WL got to keep the love and kindness part of her soul while DE got born with her dark hatred, jealousy resentment, angry and regretful side. Just like Kagome got born with love and empathy while Kikyo got born with anger and resentment because of how unfair life had been to her previous to her "reincarnation" (Inuyasha fans will know)
Just like her, DE is also more than happy to get rid of her "other half" as it is the part she is missing and she.... doesn't want to acknowledge that
She doesn't want the reminder of the pain when she went through at all.
Just like DE, she (Kikyo) lived a miserable existence as she couldn't accept the fact that Kagome (who is basically her reincarnated in modern time, sharing her soul and heart) exists and Inuyasha (whom she loved) still loved her (just like she loved him) and wanted to reach a conclusion. She continued to hate him, but still kept reaching out to him. She didn't get liberated until she found closure from him.
I see White Lily Cookie and Dark Enchantress Cookie's character in the same light because underneath all that hatred and anger, DE, as much as she likes to pretend she doesn't care, she cares a lot.
Which is evitable with her question here.
Just like WL, who asks the same question.
Despite everything, DE is still what WL is, but just a former shell of it for she only got her hatred while WL got to keep the love and kindness she possessed at heart.
At the end, DE is merely a shadow of what WL is and would forever be incomplete without her. Deep at heart, despite the anger and resentment, DE is still is doing what she feels like is in the best interest for Cookie Kind. Not to attain world dominance, not to get all that power for herself but trying to "fix" the world in a way she feels is right
All of these wars and atrocities? All of this is still for the "help" of others.
Mainly because Dark Enchantress Cookie still cares.
She is still that scared White Lily Cookie with anger and fear clinging her heart as she fell to her ultimate doom.
That girl who thought she can change the world single handedly.
The girl who failed.
The girl who lost her life in the process and is angry about it.
The dead girl still saying "Only I can offer a path to unity."
Just like Kikyo, who also seeked to "fix" the world after she got reincarnated with just hatred
DE is still trying to do what's best for everyone even if it means casualties and hurting everyone in the process.
Something WL, being morally grey, also has done to reach the "truth" (not this severely ofc cuz she still held love and kindness, smth de lacks) but did all the same and perhaps even continues to do so without realising. But she recognises this flaw and is trying her best to fix it.
This is why, I can confidently say Dark Enchantress Cookie has deeply suppressed feelings still for Pure Vanilla cookie and vise versa.
Because again underneath that soul less shell, she still is an extension or perhaps a part of WL, who still carries similar feelings and sentiment over things she cares about.
And no matter what she tries, it keeps showing.
White Lily Cookie is consciously aware that Pure Vanilla Cookie is her major weak spot. Something which even Shadow Milk Cookie catches on very quickly.
Even Dark Enchantress cookie is aware that perhaps only Pure Vanilla cookie who, as much as she'd like to discard her past, continues to be someone she sees as a threat because he can stop her, not just via power but via being himself
And it shows, over and over again.
"Especially you"
Even back when she met him all over again, she's like "So you finally admit you were an idiot aye?"
When PV tries to talk about it, she goes
She is amused and curious. Because she does know this guy was close to her. She knows his deal, she is interested in hearing his side even though frankly she got no reason. She still has an interest over him.
But she recognises this instantly so she doesn't even let him speak lol
Because while she is interested, she is still angry. As evidenced here:
The interesting thing here is, she glares. Because she still recognises that something about him still makes her feel ...weak
Which is why her next question was this
She questions her weakness despite Pomegranate never even mentioning anything about it and just saying "as long as pv is here, the echoes of the past will continue in this castle"
Which is why, DE inorder to get rid of this, tries to kill him lol because she knows Pomegranate is right and that she won't be able to do anything if PV just keeps being himself because no matter how hard she wants to throw away her past, that strange pull for him would never go because he is a major part of it.
What better way to stop making yourself feel bad but by simply getting rid of the thing causing that hurt especially when you're in an eternal cycle of anger and resentment and are incapable of thinking rationally emotion-wise?
She is still angry at him for sealing her and if we go deeper, not getting/understanding her. Which ultimately lead to her doom and cause DE because like I said, underneath all those layers, WL still is alive in DE, in a form who is angry at PV for not understanding her even before anything happened. Something which ultimately led them to splitting paths as even PV admits, he didn't get her and which is what led to both of realising that they gotta part ways, leading to WL's expedition to beast yeast for searching the truth and for PV to stay back and help crispia and his kingdom.
Both did things for helping others.
Their goals aligned but at the same time, they didn't.
Because neither of them got eachother.
Because unfortunate timing.
PV valued his Kingdom more than searching the world with her for a truth they may never find.
This is why when she "meets" him again in Creme Republic, she is almost disappointed at him lol
To the point you can interpret it as "You are still an idiot and you are talking to me?! Stfu"
Just like she was disappointed back at banquet because despite all this time, he has still not seen the "error" in his ways according to her.
He still didn't understand her vision.
This is why, this is exactly why DE is the way she is to him.
She is still deeply affected by him. Even if she doesn't admit it, she still cares a lot. She still has deeply suppressed feelings for him which make her question herself even when literally no one on earthbread is capable of doing so.
She doesn't understand these complex feelings because she never processed her anger. She is permanently incapable of processing these feelings because her other half got that part and now she is merely a husk of what she was.
Just like Pure Vanilla Cookie still questioned his feelings for White Lily Cookie (whom he knew had become Dark Enchantress Cookie), Dark Enchantress cookie definitely questions hers but in a way she is capable of mentally and in her own way.
Pure Vanilla Cookie is what Inuyasha is to Kagome/Kikyo. He recognises the soul of White Lily Cookie even when she can't find it out because he truly loves her. He didn't just love her, he fell in love with her soul. He recognised it was WL in his final moments of the Dark flour war as his eyes went wide which is why he sealed her instead of killing her and along with that sealed his own memories because he couldn't bear this anymore.
This is why when told again that de is wl, he accepts it relatively fast because he knows, he knew and was in intentional denial because he didn't want her to be that.
This is also why he is the one approached by the light of freedom because it also knows that only he has the ability to know the true WL and recognise her being.
This is also why he is more than happy to get WL despite her being half alive to the point of him being willing to die just to get her back because he loves her soul and he wants that part, the one whom he fell for, come back to life and wake up.
This is also why again and again back when he didn't know the entire debacle of WL and thought she is gone for good in exchange of DE, he tried to explain her over and over again that there still was time and she can come back if she wants because he didn't want to seal her, not when he clearly recognises that it's her, it's still the same soul he fell for but now against him.
This is why he happily embraces WL back when she is alive again because he realises that she and DE are not the same despite being the same soul.
Because he fell for WL and not her but he can still/might have residual feelings because at the end, they're still part of each other but he'll always love WL more because DE and WL are no longer the same. But he will definitely always have a spot for DE too cuz that's a fragment of WL too. A part of her too.
So does that mean DE has feelings for PV? Highly possible because it's clear that she's still drawn to him and what he has to say. She still holds him in high regards despite what she likes to admit to herself.
So yes, it is very possible that DE still has deeply suppressed feelings for PV just like he did for her once (before WL woke up) but she would NEVER voice them because caught in a cycle of eternal anger, pain and resentment, she has lost the ability long ago to process these emotions.
Just like Kikyo continued to love Inuyasha but couldn't say it out loud despite her evil birth, despite everything, still continued to subtly show so as she became incapable of love in her new unfair "birth", DE shall always remain this tragic character with an unfair fate and life incapable of emotions and feelings other than hatred.
This is also why, these 3 shall always remain my favourite characters as WL is not a Mary Sue, she is a deeply complicated, complex character who deserves all the love she gets along with PV.
#cookie run kingdom#Crk#crk lore#Lore#Cookie run kingdom lore#pure vanilla cookie#white lily cookie#dark enchantress cookie#dark enchantress crk#Cookie run#Inuyasha#kagome higurashi#kikyo#character analysis#Pure vanilla cookie character analysis#Dark Enchantress cookie character analysis#White Lily Cookie character analysis#Purelily#pure vanilla cookie x white lily cookie#pure vanilla x white lily#Crk lore analysis#Pure Vanilla Cookie x Dark Enchantress cookie#white lily x pure vanilla#Pure Vanilla x Dark Enchantress#Asks#Im sorry for this long ass analysis 😭#darkvanilla#Fixed a few typos!! Sorry for them folks idk how light of freedom got changed into truth... autocorrect is weird af at times#I wrote this after I took a short break from writing chapter 9 💀 chat am I sane 😭#Long post
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Could you write something about Mason with a teenager daughter maybe something happens like typical teenage stuff x
Teenage Drama
Notes: Please continue to send in requests. Hope you like it ❤️
Summary: Your teenager daughter is now growing up and getting her first boyfriend. How will Mason react, will he be able to cope that she is growing up?
Pairings: Mason Mount x Reader
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: Angst, Fluff & Swearing
“You’re not my dad!” I hear Emmi scream as I walk through the door, the door slams and Mason storms down the stairs. “Whoa what happened?” I question. Mason glares at me which indicates Emmi has done something to piss Mason off.
“You need to sort your fucking daughter out!”
“My daughter?!?” I question in a heated tone. Mason is technically not Emmi’s dad, but Mason has been in her life since she was 3. He is the father figure to her, and Mason treats her like she is his own, however its arguments like this he likes to throw it back in my face.
“Well she clearly isn’t mine. Olivia knows better than to speak to her dad like that! So if Emmi wants to be mine then she needs to have some respect.”
“Olivia is six” I spat back “you know Emmi is going through her teenager rebellion stage at the moment. She hates everything and everyone, don’t take it personally”.
“Well she needs to know if she wants to live under this roof she needs to obey by my rules”. Mason announces which we hear the door slamming open from upstairs and Emmi stands at the top of the stairs “Well then I will just move out! Maybe I will go and live with my real dad at least I won’t have to put up with a controlling prick like youuuuu!!!” she screams.
“EMMI!” both me and Mason shout in unity but she ignores us and slams her bedroom door shut again.
“Again I will ask Mason what the hell happened? Why is she kicking off?”
“Well if she wants to move in with her real dad then just fucking let her.” Mason spats. I shake my head and wrap my arms around Mason’s neck pulling him closer.
“Stop being silly, we all know her real dad is a dead beat, she even knows that. Why do you think she asked you to adopt her so she can be a Mount too. She loves you Mase, just obviously whatever has happened has got her back up. So talk to me what happened?” I asked pulling away and walking over to the fridge and brought out a bottle of wine and starting pouring.
“Okay I got home from an event earlier and when I got upstairs I could hear her talking to someone in her bedroom. When I turned the corner she was sitting on the bed with some guy-“
“Oh yeah Josh” I cut Mason off
“Josh? So you know about this?”
“Yeah they have been dating for a couple of months. The deal is he is allowed round as long as the door stays open, was the door open?”
“Wellll y-yeah” Mason looks down and stutters
“Well then we cannot really argue with her, it is what was agreed”
“I never agreed to that”
“Yes you did, we had that big conversation with her. Its not our fault you were on your phone when she started talking about him”.
Mason looks embarrassed “I just don’t like the idea of her sitting in a bedroom with some hormonal 14 year old boy. I thought she was better than that.”
I take the wine out of Masons hand and pull him closer, and lean in and place a small kiss to his lips. “She is a good girl Mason, she is on the pill so we know she is safe. She is a straight A student, she never goes out and breaks curfew, she would rather spend a Saturday night as a family than being with her friends. She is always helping out with Olivia and Hunter. We cannot really ask for a better girl Mason, we did well”.
Mason gives me another kiss, “yeah we did. Just in my mind she is still our baby girl who is scared of the dark and now she is this 14 year old women who is getting a boyfriend I guess I just miss our little girl”.
“I miss her too Mason but she isn’t going to be a baby girl forever. She is growing up and its her turn to make her life decisions babe all we can do is guide her”.
“I know I know. I guess I kind of fucked up then. I just know what boys are like I just want to protect her. She is going to hate me now isn’t she”.
I shake my head and start to move across the kitchen closer to him “She doesn’t hate you Mase, come on my parents weren’t so impressed with me dating you at the start due to footballer reputations and come on your parents didn’t like me as they thought I was a gold digger” Which I giggle at the end.
“That’s not true my parents love you”
“Yeah after they got to know me, but first impressions Mason they were sceptical of me”.
Mason nods agreeing know I was right. “I just don’t know what to say to make it okay”. With that Hunters cries come through the baby monitor notifying us that he is awake from his nap. “Right you go get Hunter and I will deal with Emmi”. I lean in and place a kiss to Mason’s cheek. We both jog up the stairs and then part ways on the landing, Mason goes left to Hunter’s room and I go right to Emmi’s.
I knock twice on the door but I get no reply, I slowly open the door which Emmi is laying on her bed with her phone in her hand with her back to me. “I come in peace” I state, she turns her body to look at me and then turns back to her original position. I walk round the bed and perch on the side. “Hey it will be okay”. I say rubbing her shoulder as she is still laying down.
“No it won’t mum! He ruined it! Why would Josh want to be with me after he just throw him out I am sick of it”. Emmi’s eyes now start to water as I slowly wipe the tears from her face.
“Come on Emmi he is only trying to look out for you. You know that, would you prefer him to be like your dad and not give a shit”. Emmi sits up and starts to wipe her eyes “I know you really like this boy but we just want you to be careful, I got pregnant with you at 15 Emmi I just want better for you. You know whatever happens me and Mason will be here for you but you gotta help yourself sometimes.”
“Mum we weren’t doing anything. We were just chilling, we haven’t even done anything, I haven’t done anything with a boy I promise. He is the first boy that is actually interested in me and not just with me because my dad is ‘Mason Mount’. I really like him mum, and now he just ruined it its not fair. I am going to be alone forever!” Emmi starts to sob again which I embrace her in a hug.
“Well that’s very dramatic!” we both laugh and she pulls away. I wipe her away hair that is stuck to her face from the tears. “Mason is sorry he knows he messed up and he let his emotions get in the way. He is going to try and be better when it comes to boys. You are our first child Emmi so you gotta understand we are going to mess up sometimes. Mason is trying his best to be the dad you need Emmi, he is a great dad. I promise you now, if this Josh really likes you, being kicked out by Mason won’t matter he will fight for you Emmi I promise. Now come on wipe your tears it won’t be the end of the world”. She sniffled away and wipe her tears from her cheek.
“I didn’t mean what I said to him, I don’t want to live with my real dad. Mason is my real and only dad. I was just a-angry, I don’t want him to h-hate me.”. She choked.
“we both know that baby girl. Mason will never hate you I promise that. Just go tell him that, everything will be okay. Come here”. She wrap her arms around me and I held her whilst she cried it all out. Once she was done she went into her bathroom and cleaned herself up.
We both walked down the stairs and Mason shoots Emmi a small smile as soon as he sees us, still rocking Hunter away in his arms. “Come here I will take him” I quickly step in and take Hunter out of his arms and start making his milk in the kitchen.
“I am sorry” Emmi says to Mason
“I am sorry too baby girl. I just panicked. You are our little girl the thought of you getting a boyfriend just breaks me because that means you are growing up. I am sorry I will try my hardest to be the ‘cool dad’ just please don’t leave.”
Emmi runs across the room and wraps her arms around Mason “you are my dad. I don’t care what my stupid birth certificate says you are my dad. I am not going anywhere. I love you.”
“I love you too” they both stand there for a little embraced in a hug. She sniffled again “is it okay if I go out for a couple of hours to town with my friends?” she turns to me to ask “of course it is Ems. Dinner is at 7 if you still want it?”
“Of course I will be home for dinner cannot wait”
She grabs her coat and bag and skips out the house. I walk over to Mason, Hunter still in arms. He embraces us together. “You did so well with her”.
I look up into Mason’s eyes and place a small kiss to his lips “I couldn’t of done it without you”.
#angst#fluff and angst#football#footballer imagine#footballer imagines#footballer x reader#footballer x you#manchester united#mason mount fanfic#mason mount x reader#mason mount imagine#mason mount
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Hiiii i saw that people are sharing their beast ocs...I'm curious If i can share mine too. I'd like to stay anonimus to everyone else tho. The story they are for is my own that includes this secret cookie Sanctuary that houses the banished and forgotten from other kingdoms. The "beast" ocs that i have are not technically beast but some of the original sanctuary comunity leaders who were overtaken by their own "magic" that got out of hand due to the Sanctuary. The Sanctuary is something similar to Wonderland showing itself to whoever its wants so it is pure "magic", so the beast being either slefish or pridefull the Sanctuary punished them by loosing their mortal bodies and now they are just estranged magical energies that activelly tourture the curent Sanctuary leaders. Okay this is too much...I'm so sorry I got a bit exited to share this small thing with someone. You can ignore this and I won't be mad at all I understand you have your own things to do. Anyways here are my "beast" ocs and the curent Leaders (the art for the leaders aren't fully updated but close enough)
"Beast" in order: Buckwheat Honey - The Maw of Pandemonium; Rose Lokum - The Coin of Chaos; Zenzai Fox- The Whisper of Anarchy; Blackcurrant Chantilly - The Herald of Discord; Pistachio Biscotti - The Warrior of Ruin:
Leaders in order: Forest Jam – The Sentinel of Order (it's a man btw); Wisteria – The Beacon of Serenity; Mirror Glaze - The Clairvoyant Sight; Strawberry Ice Cream – The Voice of Unity; Choco cheese - The Herald of Harmony:
"Beast" vs Leaders: Pistachio Biscotti vs Forest Jam Blackcurrant Chantilly vs Choco Cheese Zenzai Fox vs Strawberry Ice Cream Rose Lokum vs Wisteria Buckwheat Honey vs Mirror Glaze Again I'm so sorry for talking your ears off (is a verry long text i know). And once again If is too much or if i overstep I'll be ok with being ignored :)
SHHHHH STOP APOLOGISING I LOVE ALL OF THIS, THEY’RE AMAZING!!!!!!! And the concept is very very cool!!! I loooove Buckwheat Honey, they’re my fav probably o3o
#fishymom-ask#cookie run oc#cookie run#cookie run kingdom#don’t know what you mean by staying anonymous but inhtiuentinvte yeah
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what are The Gang's thoughts on darrell? the Chicken.
mind and the chicken he Didn't Want...... why... does darrell almost remind him of heart? Feathers and Wings and all? how does he feel that They have a chicken of all things?
when did darrell even come into play? wwas the Chicken Always there? has Resident Heart ever seen darrell? what does heart think of a fellow Bird Thing.....
was darrell just found One Day and soul just Picked him up and decided he wanted that damn chicken? Is there a Story to Darrell?
how often do they Dress Darrell Up in stupid outfits this ones important
i have So Much to ask about your thoughts on these Creatures but don't want to bombard you :)
YAYAYAYAYAYYA DARRELL ASK I GETTO SHARE HEADCABNONS I WOULDNT SHARE OTHERWISE OKOKOK
SO outside of universe i know darrell's origins.. i actually read a fic once back when i was still new to the fandom about the Losers finding and getting used to darrell, wherein soul just. conjures him. which is really funny to think about and i adore that fic so much if i can remember the title i'll edit this post to add it
but something within me just REALLY wants an explanation that aligns with the rest of the story. there needs to be MEANING BEHIND THE CHICKEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and so i present you with this:
he is technically of soul's creation, coming from a want for comfort and unity. but soul didn't create him on purpose, he just came out of his room one day in the middle of the night to find a feathered ball waddling around the living room. darrell is very soft to the touch and unbothered by most things, and he's more than happy to be cuddled and touched for long periods of time. soul doesn't remember when he first saw darrell but it's been so long it's like he's always been here.
as i've shared before, my design for him is based on a barbu d'uccle.. he's a fat little brown chicken with little mottled spots and feathers covering his little feet...,, he's also a hen. he has laid. eggs. but hms don't really seem to care about that too much
the thing is that everyone loves darrell..,, he often gets referred to as "soul's chicken" but heart and mind love him just as much. he's almost a part of them in his own right; a little beacon of hope, as stupid as that might sound. his presence is designed to be comforting and warm, like he's meant to evoke a feeling of wholeness.....,, soul especially sees him and his brown, almost orange-y feathers and feels an odd connection.
BUTANNNYWAYS to answer the other questions!!!:
mind relates all things animal to heart so he was a little apprehensive of the chicken at first, and the reasoning soul gave for his existence (being a comfort animal of sorts) didn't make much sense to him.,, he came around because having a pet to take care of and nurture felt very good for him, and in exchange he gets to hang out with a creature that Isn't Bothersome [even though it's a chicken, a farm animal - why couldn't it have been a dog or something?]
heart LOVES darrell and he has since the start. he's a very tactile person so, if the chicken is near, he is PETTING thoise FEATHERS. and he does find a little comfort in the beloved pet sharing so many physical similarities with him. unfortunately heart has never seen him, but soul has described darrell to him many many times. he pictures him as a big fluffy brown chicken with dumb little curious eyes and huge wings like his own and he loves darrell so much.
amd OBVIOUSLY they dress him up in dumb outfits OOBBBVIOUSLY it is a pet owner's DUTY to do so at least once!!!! often for holidays and stuff they give him little hats yknow . it is Vital for their Harmonization.
tldr god they LOVE HIMMMM he's sweet he's comforting and he provides them with the motivation to take care of both him and themselves C: and his existence comes from a desire for harmony.. he's the only thing that they will always love together
#dailyhmsw asks#chonny jash#cj darrell#SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO ANSWER#MY THOUGHTS ARE A MESS as always
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Hi there! I apologize for taking up your time, I am just so curious: When you tackle a comic, what does the process behind it look like?
Asking because I found myself scrolling through your blog once again and couldn't help but marvel at all the beautiful effects you use, at how flawlessly the structure guides the viewer's eye across each page, how the graphic weight seems to always be in just the right places…, and wonder how you learned doing this. Everything you put out looks incredibly professional and I aspire to reach your level of skill 😌❤️
Thank you Finz!! You're no bother at all, I'm an open book. This is such high praise for a guy that really doesn't have a set process, I feel like a hack. Ha. Rest assured my style is still developing. Besides the referencing of the linework and composition of official comic books, (practicing by redrawing panels for fun), explaining the process makes me feel like a serial killer but I will do my best.
(WIP Riddler panel, scrapped Scarecrow composition)
My comics usually stem from a single panel or concept — I like to focus on/emphasise particular panels of my pages, the heavy hitters, the main piece that catches your eye. I know I'm not a profoundly technically proficient artist so I prefer visually interesting elements and formatting, i.e. drawing characters outside their frames, negative space, notation, perspectives etc.
(Kung Fu Panda 4 sketch god I hate Kung Fu Panda 4)
I like to establish 'main focus' panels, the bits of the comic that really, well. make people want to chew on it. This is where the technical effort is concentrated, really, and the rest of the comic is generally build around these concepts.
('Restaurant Balthazar' focus panels)
Textures and effects are done on individual panels first, then the entire page as a whole to even out the unity. Generally, blocking in shadows, hatching for visual interest + middle tones, then textures/half-tones, then highlights.
(Script excerpt WIP)
I'm not a writer per se, but having a vague 'script' in your pages helps with pacing and direction. Comics are a versatile story-telling medium. I only really do scripts for comics longer than 2 pages. An optional but recommended strat is to send your script to a friend for a second opinion.
(Script excerpt — 'Restaurant Balthazar', annotated by @vincepti0n I don't know why he drew a face in the middle)
With the script crudely slapped together, I rough out the thumbnails and composition with the text, prioritising coherence and clean integration of previously mentioned 'main focus' panels.
Settling on a composition sucks the hardest. Drawing is fun, thinking makes brain hurty. Variety is good! Close-ups, wide shots, visual metaphors. Every panel is its own artwork.
The text bubbles are usually added in post, yes, but I'm just one guy and I don't have a writer to call me a good boy for doing things correctly. Bite me.
(Early 'Restaurant Balthazar' drafts)
In addition, keeping the text graphics in mind help create a sounder composition wherein even if the panels don't read cleanly left to right + top to bottom, the text can stagger and create the same reading order effect.
Panels and concepts are constantly tweaked, and my comic process is still highly experimental. A lot of industry standard comics aren't illustrated to their full potential due to deadlines and such — I strive for visual epiphany by treating each panel as its own artwork, and every page as a a bit of a mural.
(Old art hurts the soul)
Constantly experimenting allows you the insight of looking at your current art in comparison to your older works. In more recent works, I've been blocking in more shadows wiht lineart with thinner lines and more line weight, and learned to integrate the subject characters with less plain, abstract backgrounds.
TLDR: I have no idea
#creaman-answer-sheet.pdf#art process#vinegarclown#creaman#fanart#digital illustration#jonathan crane#riddler#wip#comic process#creaman talks to drywall
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