#I probably should try to use paint less for stuff

[eyivibyemi]

✧ I won’t really write descriptions for these, but see original post tags for explanation/commentary on the song snippet ✧

[on-leatheredwings]

Secret Admirer

Yandere! Dick Grayson / Yandere! Green Lantern! Gender Neutral Reader

> romantic > tw/cw: yandere behaviors. Kissing. Heavy petting. > rated M > summary: You should stop playing with fire. Because when you do, you make him want to be crazy. Crazier. And Dick’s worked really, really hard to wrap those habits up. > a/n: wow nothing truly despicable in this one i’m so vanilla now <3 the reader is male to me but feel free to imagine what you want. I rlly like writing pre-yandere + pre-relationship stuff, it’s so fun . may write more for actual smut possibilities > word count: 1472

Newly-acquired powers or not, you are really poking the bear here. 

Dick has known you've been following him since yesterday. He allowed it because who was he if not a performer? He thrived on attention, and especially yours. But today, you had gotten too close to a fight. Sure, you had stayed an appropriate distance away, but the fact it had happened at all was worrying. It made him distracted. Distracted enough that he wasn’t pulling his punches on criminals like usual. 

“Now that it’s getting quite late–” he begins, to which you audibly gasp. An adorable sound. “–how about you finally come out and let me help you?”

He turns around to a swath of darkness that paints the rooftop’s entry door in black shadow.

Behind the corner, you curse. Damn it, he caught you. … Well, you could’ve told yourself this would happen. Dick, the fine friend he was, surely said it would. No one really ‘sneaks up’ on one of the Bats. And definitely not Nightwing, the most tenured of them all aside Batman himself.

You got caught, and lord knows what Nightwing will do to you. You bite your lips, mind running wild. Who knows what Nightwing will do to you, indeed? You feel a pang of arousal at the thought. 

You step out of the shadows, trying to act natural. Nightwing’s eyes lock onto your humble form, and you find yourself warming over every inch of your body. You want him bad.

His body stiffens, for reasons you can’t discern. It doesn’t seem like hostility… you think?

You adjust your domino mask, cursing silently that the adhesive is finally starting to give after a long night of following him around. Stealth isn’t really a natural gift for a Green Lantern, either. Turning down your glow while using your powers to maintain soundless stalking was hard. Harder than expected. 

“What are you doing here?”

You smile, hoping your giddy expression is hidden by the hoodie you’ve chosen to wear on your escapade. 

It certainly is not, which makes Dick pleased.

Now that you've made contact with him, his first thought is that he ought to tell Batman about this. And the rest of the team, while he’s at it. Dick Grayson knows that Nightwing is your 'celebrity' crush, and that you're enamored with the rest of the Bat Family. What if you confronted them someday as well?

On the Batcomputer is a file on John Stewart, complete a footnote that is you. Said footnote has graduated to its own page, now that you have your own hero exploits to document. They'd be less welcoming and more wary of a hero on their turf. He has to protect you.

“I… I…” you croak, tongue heavy with anxiety. You can’t help but be nervous. 

“Sometime tonight?” he teases. 

“You’re beautiful,” you blurt.

He is taken aback, before he recollects his wits. 

“I really like you,” you say again, stepping forward. He lifts his hand in warning. Stay back. You get chills, but don’t stop treading forward. You can tell his eyes are narrowed beneath his mask.

When he’s finally in arms’ reach, you are pushed against the wall. And not roughly at all, you notice. You smile with delight, your hands immediately landing on his shoulders. Nightwing’s glare doesn’t feel hostile at all. Suspicious, maybe. But not hostile.

“... What do you mean by, you “really” like me?” You suspected that he probably wouldn’t believe you.

“Well,” you fluster, “I mean that I really like you.” Dick’s heart jolts. “And I want you.” It nearly flatlines.

Oh, don’t say that, don’t say that, Dick thinks, despite the elation that begins to tighten his throat. You? Want him? If he had known all he needed to do to grab your attention was put on the suit, he would’ve done that ages ago. He felt nearly invisible to you during the day, all his flirtation falling on deaf ears and blind eyes.

At Nightwing’s silence, you lick your lips. An action that makes his eyes dilate behind his mask. 

“I-I’m serious!”

Nightwing leans in closer, as if inspecting the truth in your expression, raking over every atom. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he breathes.

“It’s not a game at all to me,” you say, feeling lightheaded from the small distance between you two. This doesn't feel real.

To love and be loved is all you’ve ever wanted. You’d think that would give you the violet ring of Love. Instead, the ring that had appeared in your hand one fateful night was acid green, sparkling and mesmerizing. Apparently, instead of embodying love, you simply were driven enough to seek it at any costs. Driven enough to never be alone ever again.

You have the ability to overcome great fear. Welcome to the Green Lantern Corps, it said. You had taken it without hesitation.

“Kiss me,” you say, hands rising to cup his jaw. As if he’s not already leaning in.

Your lips meet in an unabashed frenzy. You’re nearly blown away by the pure amount of feeling in his kiss – that's quite a lot of emotion for a stranger. Not that you aren’t equally impassioned. You feel so raw and naked, kissing him. You hope he can't feel all your insanity, your obsession, your infatuation.

However, Dick certainly does, so much that he moans openly, the sound making both your lips buzz.

You make him want to be crazy. Crazier. And he’s worked really, really hard to wrap those habits up. 

You shudder, feeling the pressure of his cup press in between your thighs. God, you wished you could feel the real thing. Your hand slips in between you two, tracing the lines of his abs. Dick shivers. He peels off your domino mask, but you don’t even flinch. You don’t care if he knows who you are. You want him to know everything. Inside and out.

Your eyes flutter open as you gyrate against his hips, sinful and frustrating. You peer up at him, cheeks blazing. You want him.

He looks into your eyes, and it's as if he can read your mind. He wants to swallow you whole. He wants to map every inch of your body. His cock is painfully straining against his suit. You are not a want, but a need.

But Dick is trying to be good, he really is. The night’s not over. He’s still on patrol, technically. You may want Nightwing, but do you want Dick Grayson? If he fucked you on this rooftop, throwing restraint into the wind, would that be taking advantage of you? Do you just hero worship him? All the questions fly through his mind at rapid speed, and he wants them to quiet, before the Angry Orphan inside him decides to just stop caring completely. 

But he… he’s strong. We don't have to be, his mind interjects, screaming at him. But he quiets it. He whimpers at the tightness against his groin, a sound that makes you look at him curiously. You are completely blissfully ignorant to his inner strife. Completely innocent.

Dick narrows his eyes, channeling his best Batman impression.

“You should go home.”

You balk almost comically. “W-wait.” Nightwing retreats, but not before you can grab his wrist. “At least– at least, can we go on a date? Or even hang out? Or–” His thumb traces the curve of your lips, silencing you with a shiver.  

“Go home.” Firmly said, yet gentle.

You frown, though it’s more like a pout. Man, you’re cute, he thinks. “When can I see you again?”

Dick certainly isn’t strong enough to be responsible and say “You can’t.” 

So Nightwing just stares at you, looking… hesitant. The pieces click in your mind. Ah, so he liked it. Your lips curl, like a cat with cream. You take that as a victory.

“... I-I’ll come back tomorrow night,” you state boldly, stealing a chaste kiss before he could argue. Dick has to basically pull himself away, despite his desire to keep your bodies flush and perfectly fitted against one another.

You slip your ring onto your finger, and your entire body glows, rampant with Lantern light. You begin to float.

“Tomorrow!” you blurt, already wanting him again. You zip away, flying home. All the while, you slap at your warm cheeks, trying to see if this is a dream, laughing with glee, mind going haywire with heated fantasies. You kissed Nightwing. You basically groped him. And he didn’t stop you. Oh god, wait until you tell Dick. 

The confrontation went better than expected. At worst, you figured Nightwing would shoo you away, reject you. Despite the abrupt ending, he at least seemed… interested? You try not to dwell on it too much. It doesn’t matter.

You’re a Green Lantern. You’re powerful. Willful. He will be yours, someday.

[dilatorywriting]

Congrats on the milestone! It's always a delight to see your stuff pop up on my dash ^.^ I'd love to see prompt 19 from the dialog that makes your reader swoon with the guy of your choice (smut welcome). Hope the bot infestation takes a chill pill!

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 1.7k

Prompt 19: "If you don’t stop looking at my lips without doing anything about it, I will take you right here on this counter."

🌶️ Warning for Mild Spice

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

Vil was drunk.

Or well, Vil was as inebriated as he would most likely ever allow himself to be in any sort of public setting to speak of. Which was still above and beyond what you had ever seen of him up to that point. Which was of course to say that he was still walking effortlessly in his sky-high heels and maintaining every bit of the decorum with which he so usually prided himself. The only reason you could tell the difference at all was because you knew this stupid man better than the back of your own hand. And the loose-limbed ease about him combined with the lolling smirk on his lips was as telltale of a sign as any. Not that you could blame him. Winning any award was certainly an honor. Beating out Neige Leblanche of all people would probably have had him drunk on success even without the literal booze to help him along.

He rolled the half-empty flute of bubbling champagne between his fingers and tipped it towards you like an offering.

“Care to try some?”

You huffed, far too fond to be properly exasperated. “At least one of us needs to be able to drive home.”

And your tolerance was, unfortunately, not great. At least, not for the horrifically potent nonsense that this magic-infused world called ‘wine.’ The last time you’d drank during one of these events you’d wound up nearly beating a rude reporter with his own camera, but thankfully had only had the coordination to call the prying ass all sorts of colorful and very impolite things. (‘Secretly fucking Neige Leblanche’ indeed. Vil hadn’t even asked his PR team to spin that one. Just loudly demanded that your indignation should speak for itself and that any such inquiries into your private affairs would be handled personally in the future.)

Vil snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll be calling for a car either way.”

He tilted the glass again, and you were forever grateful that he wasn’t a sloppy drunk. You didn’t care if he spilled booze all down your front and stained the stupid, too-expensive outfit he’d all but sewed you into, but the fussing that would ensue would be torturous.

“Just a sip,” he coaxed. “I promise you’ll like it.”

You scrunched up your nose and sighed, plucking the flute from his hand. You went to take a small sip and one of those perfectly painted nails reached up to tap irritably at the rim.

“What?” you frowned.

He turned the glass until the other curved side sat at your lips and gave another pointed tap tap tap.

“From here.”

You went nearly cross-eyed trying to stare down at the rim, and with a bit of determination were able to finally pick out the traces of an imprint from the actor’s otherwise impeccably maintained lipstick.

“Are you serious?” you snorted a laugh.

Those perfectly lined lips of his pursed into something that you would dare to call a pout.

“If you’re not going to let me kiss you in public, then you can at least give me this,” he huffed.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, lips still twitching far too much in amusement. “That was your rule. ‘For my privacy,’ you said.”

He waved you off with a scoff. “Please. That was only when we were keeping entirely out of the public eye. I could hardly complain about it now.”

Now, he said. Like he hadn’t graduated from NRC less than a year ago. Like your introduction into his world of stage lights and red carpets hadn’t all been meticulously curated and released only a month or so prior. You blinked, a bit owlishly. And then decided to indulge his petulance and took a neat, slow slip from right where he’d tapped. Vil was always honest, brutally so. He had no compunctions about telling you what he wanted, when he wanted it, and how it was going to happen. So it wasn’t like the touch of alcohol swimming through his system was going to make him more truthful, just… perhaps more loose with it, it seemed. Less manicured, in his speech.

The model looked endlessly pleased and reached out to snatch the glass back. He lifted it back to his own lips—carefully placed, just as he’d demanded of you—and took a long drag.

“There,” he grinned, all smug satisfaction. Like tricking you into an indirect kiss was any sort of accomplishment to begin with. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You were going to burst out laughing, and someone was going to get it on camera, and Vil’s stupid assistant would never let you live it down.

“I guess not,” you hummed. “How much longer, do you think. Until we can go home?”

Vil took another sip, drinking down the last drops of the sparkling concoction. He deposited the empty glass on a passing server’s tray and turned on you with a sharp smirk that was far too wide and far too wine-warm.

“That anxious to get me alone, darling?”

Oh he was really gone.

You grabbed his hand and hauled him towards a more secluded alcove. Because he hadn’t exactly shouted that, but enough curious heads had turned your way that you weren’t going to chance it. ‘Exclusive after party,’ your ass. No reporters didn’t mean no wandering eyes and ears. And he may have been punch drunk enough not to give two shits, but his PA would certainly make the two of you ‘care’ come morning.

“We’re in public,” you hissed, cheeks dark and ears warm. “Don’t say things like that!”

“Oh?” he crooned, stopping in his tracks. You gave another tug but it was useless. Stupidly towering height aside, Vil was all lean muscle and stubborn determination. If you were moving him at all, it was only because he was humoring you enough to step to your demands. “But that’s what you are, isn’t it?” He leaned forward and you could smell the pop of alcohol off his tongue. “Or at least, you certainly act the part of ravenous lover well enough.”

“Really,” you snapped, hushed. “If you’re going to be like this, do you have to use those stupid lines on top of it?”

“Stupid?” Vil frowned, and his fuzzy gaze focused into something sharp. “Your reactions don’t normally imply that those ‘lines’ leave much to be desired.”

You could feel your ears going hot as coals. “Yeah. Well. In the moment is a lot different from—we’re not talking about this right now!” you squawked. “Your assistant is going to kill me if she finds out I let anyone hear you like this.”

Vil snorted and pulled you the rest of the way into the alcove. “She would never. And besides, it’s my prerogative to say whatever I wish,” he finished on something that was nearly a pout. His lips pressed into a firm line, determined. “Should I try again then? If you thought that one was so stupid.”

“Vil—” you hissed.

“Hmm,” he mused, deliberate. And then, “How about this one, then. All of the accolades in the world couldn’t compare to the sound of my name, cried from your lips.”

You squeaked and ducked your head against his shoulder, fingers digging into the too-expensive fabric of his suit.

“No?” he cooed, a bit of that familiar, mocking, edge curling over the word. And you were left to wonder if he was really that drunk after all. “Let me try another. As much as I enjoy those cries, I think I like the whispers even more—every part of you of that whispers temptation,” he recited, far, far too warm, “as if the Gods made you just to ruin me.”

“Would you please just—” you squawked, mortified and melting from head to toe. You were about to remind him again, plead nearly, that they were still very much in public. But then a thought shot off in your head like a lightbulb clicking to life. “You like this,” you hissed at him, accusatory.

“Like what?” he droned, crowding you against the wall. It was dark in the little corner, quiet, but not nearly enough to blot out the low hum of conversations and clinking of glassware just a couple dozen feet away.

Vil dug his fingers into the fabric over your hips.

“It does have its appeal, doesn’t it?” he hummed against your neck and you could feel your blood buzzing beneath his curling lips. “No one to see you, certainly. But everyone will surely know,” he drawled. “That’s the world of show business, I’m afraid. All subtle implications, people whispering about us under their breath.” His hands twisted, bunching up the edges of the crinkling satin. “I’m sure even Neige will hear, eventually.”

“Is that it?” you hissed, biting back a horribly, high pitched little squeak. “You’re still mad at what that reporter said?”

“Of course not,” Vil said, with all the cadence of a well-seasoned liar. “The gossip mongering of one, moronic pest is hardly a problem.” He leaned closer, pushing a leg forward to slot between your. “But I have eyes, darling. And I can see that little rat’s lingering far too long where they shouldn’t.”

You reached up to slap a hand over your mouth and bite into your palm to quiet whatever embarrassing nonsense you would have tried to reply with. Or, well, if you’d managed to reply at all.

“I know you’re anxious to get home, darling,” he droned against your collarbone. You could smell the fizzy remnants of champagne all in your nose. “But this is my party, after all. We’ll have to wait to call for a car for at least another hour,” he apologized, not sounding particularly sorry at all. “That said,” he continued, grinding harder, “if you don’t stop looking at my lips like that without doing anything about it, I might just have to take you right here against the wall.”

A pause, as he canted his head. A soft mess of pale bangs falling over his lidded eyes.

“And there is a very lovely private changing room with a lock just down the hall.”

“…okay,” you squeaked, and Vil grinned—pulling back to wrap an arm around your waist and lead you along. Gait steady and composed as always, and just the barest hint of the wine-warmed-boldness curling over his lips.

.

.

[windvexer]

the Chicken furthermore tries to convince you to practice sorcery in a fun and fulfilling way

There is a difference between practicing goal-oriented practical sorcery, and placing the entire value of your sorcery on whether or not you achieved the goal. One of these things is soul-crushing.

Practicing sorcery should be it's own reward. The actual steps you are performing should be stuff that you like, or thrills you, or captures your fascination. As an activity, practicing sorcery should be satisfying regardless of whether or not the spellwork manifests properly.

If the sorcery on your plate is not satisfying, compost it and return to the endless buffet and try a different type of sorcery.

If you do not have the things you need, your first step to a spell becomes innovation. What is the purpose of the thing in the spell, and how can it be replaced?

A spell can be cast with a length of string, or a paper and pen. Or with a bit of crayon. Or a dead fly. Or with just you.

Sorcerous knowledge tends to reveal itself when the clutter of correspondences is placed aside, so having few things to practice with is not a curse.

You do not need an interpersonal spiritual friendship with every single spirit you want to work with in magic. YOU DO NOT.

Interpersonal friend relationships with spirits should probably be reserved for very special spirits in your "inner court," the beings with which you choose to share your life and that you honor as teachers and guides.

Many spirits are pleased to assist with magic, but have no interest in getting to know us personally.

Imagine if everyone in your askbox wanted to ask you for help on something you're knowledgeable about, but instead of just asking for help, they first wanted to DM you for a few weeks to make sure you're comfortable with being asked for help, meanwhile on your correspondence chart pinned post it says "I can help with [topic]! Just ask!"

Asking spirits for help in magic is a good, valid way to start building a relationship with them.

Repeatedly calling on the same spirit or type of spirit over and over in spellwork is a fantastic way to deepen your relationship with them.

Working with a spirit in magic does not mean you are obligated to build a shrine to it, venerate it, talk to it outside of spellwork, or any of that.

Practicing sorcery is not the same thing as casting a spell. Practicing sorcery also means practicing the composite skills which come together to make a spell.

A spell is like a completed painting. But to make that painting, the artist needed several skills: the ability to sketch the scene, knowledge of how to apply and work with their paint, color theory, an understanding of how to render landscapes, and so forth. As a sorcerer, your skillset might be imbuing intent, raising energy, centering and grounding, practicing trance, practicing psychism or divination, etc. As you gain familiarity with these things, spells become less like an imposing stranger, and more like someone you're sure you've met before.

Practice can be it's own reward, but discipline is often required for progress.

Raising energy once a day, forever? I think not.

Raising energy once a day for seven days? Or, dedicating to doing it a total of ten times this month? Perhaps so.

An artist may not be in love with every single step of the process, and sometimes a sorcerer may have to get good at a skill that's not their favorite. But if no part of the process sparks joy, then something is wrong.

Sucking at something is the first step to being kind of good at something. Be reasonable with yourself: does the beginner artist doodle a landscape, then look at their work and declare that their art "doesn't work"?

Not every witch is talented at every sort of sorcery. Not creating a potent prosperity spell after five tries doesn't mean you're bad at magic. It might mean that your current understanding of prosperity magic precludes good results, or that you are casting on one very intransigent situation, or that your true talents lie in destruction and chaos instead of peaceful growth.

Set practice goals, give it an honest go, and move on when the time is right: "I am going to practice raising Fire energy and putting it into this stone using the Pore Breathing method. I'm going to do it fifteen times." (3 months later): "That sucked and it never worked, but I did it all fifteen times. Next I'm going to do a grounded roots visualization and use it to channel water energy to cleanse my room." (10 days later): "That was awesome, I want to do it more than 15 times."

Play around and be silly with it. Taking your path seriously is not the same thing as taking your path somberly.

Sports teams practice drills to be ready for game day. Sorcerers are wise to take a page from their book, because when real-life game day arrives, it feels much better to deal with it when you know you've been having pretty good success with channeling water energies, so maybe it's best to do something with that, because you can't move fire for dick.

[plumbobpaparazzi]

Peek into my Mods folder...

This is dedicated to @alltimefail-sims or anyone who needs a little help with lag!

I have several mods I refer to as "efficiency mods" that are little quality-of-life tweaks that make the game smoother for me, either by reducing lag or reducing immersion-breaking hiccups. As always, your mileage may vary, but hopefully this is helpful to someone. :) List of mods under cut to keep your dash clean.

No Intro - Whether you are trying to 50/50 your mods, testing new CC, or just need to shave time off your game loading... get rid of the cinematic intro.

Free Will Delay - Do your sims curbstomp their queue and proceed to fuck off to something unrelated? Yeah, me too, until I got this mod. From the mod description: "[E]very time you tell your sim to do something, they will be forced to listen! …For 5 minutes. Then they get free will back again. This is probably why controlling Sims in Sims 4 feels so bad! Because you lose control the second they start doing what they're told. Even if you queue up actions, the total time is STILL five minutes- because it goes from the last direction you give your sim. So you can tell them to do 3 hours worth of stuff while paused…and they'll get control back after 5 minutes. This mod changes this timeframe to an option of your choosing, to make controlling your sims feel more rigid."

Simulation Unclogger - This is an oldie-but-goodie mod from Turbodriver that helps interrupt when Sims get stuck in an endless action loop.

Evolve/Fertilize All Plants - Kind of weird how we can Harvest All but you can't Evolve or Fertilize All, right?

No Empty Venues When Arriving - Helps with the issue of going to a community lot and waiting around for Sims to show up. May cause increased lag if you are bottlenecked by RAM.

Food Autonomy Overhaul - Stops your stupid Sims from eating ingredients, AND allows Sims who hate cooking to autonomously grab quick meals. Didn't know they wouldn't do that? Yeah. That's a thing.

Don't Do That! Version 1 and Version 2 - Removes autonomy on annoying actions that can't be affected by MCCC tuner, like reactions and some trait idle animations.

Less Obsession - Lowers autonomy for certain things without disabling entirely. I still want my Sims to paint, but I don't want them to start a new figure painting any time they are left unsupervised.

Smarter Self-Care - Makes Sims prioritize their needs better before they are uncomfortable. I only use the packages for NPCs and Pets.

NPC Relationship Autonomy Fix - Stops random Sims from breaking into your house to ask to be your BFF (and tunes the requirements so they actually have to be your friend first.)

Buy More Upgrade Parts - Allows you to buy a package of 50 upgrade parts for when you are grinding out handiness or robotics.

The following mods are all by Bienchen and don't have a direct page for each package. You can search by name pretty easily on their website. I recommend flipping through and grabbing anything you find useful - I have a total of 368 of their mods installed. Here are some highlights:

novisibleecoeffects - The aurora will nuke your framerate. I know it's pretty, but oh my god.

noautonomousbakewhitecake - Does what it says on the tin, keeps your house from being overrun by cakes.

harvestnogroupinteraction - Stops club members from autonomously harvesting plants. Those are MY death flowers!

lessemotionidles - Reduces unnecessary idle animations from emotions, great for preventing your Sims from looking flirty at inappropriate times...

lesspreferenceidles - Stops your sims from thinking about how much they like fishing/fitness/etc. when they should be doing things.

happytoddleridledisabled - Stops the idling from the Happy Toddler trait. SUPER useful for family gameplay.

laundry_buffsandsoloidlesfix - Stops or reduces idles related to laundry. It's just clothes, bro

eldertweak - Reduces elder animation idles.

hastopeewalkstyleforchildonly - Helps get your Sims to the toilet in a reasonable amount of time.

tinyhousebuffhider - I know I'm in a Tiny Home, I don't need a moodlet.

lottraiteffectshider - Hides the little floating lightbulbs around Sims heads from lot traits.

notraitnotifications - I know my geek likes video games, I don't need the pop-up every time I play.

noholidayoutcomenotification - Please don't rub my nose in the fact I forgot to celebrate.

nofestivalnotifications and nofestivalnotificationsound - Helpful when a pack is new, but years later... no thanks.

noenrollmentandscholarshipinfo - No more info screen about the two universities. I think most of us know it all by now.

nouprootplant - Never cry because of a misclick again

simschangeoutfitwhenhotorcold - Should have already been autonomous, but alas.

novisualpoliteintroeffects - I don't know if I am the only one, but the glowing really bothers me.

restaurantsittweak - Sit down and eat your dang food! No more wandering Sims.

longerprom - Takes 6 hours instead of 4 so you can actually do something.

I probably have other QoL mods that could be helpful, but these are my recommendations to start with. Love to all the modders that keep this game playable <3

[ganondoodle]

(while i am crumbling into pieces from cramp pain)

back when they announced the totk masterworks book i said i wasnt happy about it bc it would either

prove they thought all this was good from the start and everything went as planned

show us that they had unbelievable better ideas and plans but for some unknow reason scrapped it all

as it stands now with the concepts i have seen ... they somehow did both, some things seemed to have been planned fro mthe start (the whole focus on sonau/zonai stuff for example, which i personally just dont like bc i liked them better as an unkown mystery you never get to meet) and other stuff (like ganondorfs concepts, or the infinitely cooler castle in the sky esque concepts for the sky islands, instead of some nonsensical, meaningless little stone crumbs) was much, much more interesting initially (together with the interviews that said they initially planned to have the battery be a magic meter and make the sonau more magic than tech- but then decided to build their stuff around modern electrical devices just so players would immediately know what it was an what it would do -why????? thats so boring?? and unecessary ?? and they still give you tutorials for it anyway, multiple times??!!- for some ungodly reason)

it makes me more and more sure that this game, that took 6 years to make with most assets already being there (the same time that botw took to make?????????), went through a similar development hell as that one final fantasy game did where the director decided to make it an entirely different game every few weeks bc he saw something cool in another game-

its the only thing that makes sense to me, why else would it be so weirdly ... unfinished, its full of grand ideas badly executed, or like i said in a previous post, like an alpha build (weird! did someone in charge also see cool stuff every few months and decide they wanted it in there too no matter what so everyone had to scramble to try and put it in making the whole jenga tower fall over and over??), just to test how far you can push things, with placeholders everywhere, the same cutscene pasted in where another should be and a placeholder reason to get players to go soemwhere (fake zelda) and rough ideas for puzzles etc, that was never finished, jsut highly polished (in looks, sounds and presentation) in hopes of it being 'good enough' or players not noticing (like, take the underground for example, the idea itself is fantastic and cool as fuck, but its feels like an idea that was never finished and just barely fileld with some things to try and cover up the fact that it was never done, like a statue that wasnt done being carved but ran out of time so they painted it anyway- take the base map and invert it, put some easily accessible points of jumping down into it in random spots to test if the game can handle it- no time left to actually get that idea anywhere more specific and well thought out/put together, so its left like that, put the same texture everywhere, barely modified copies of the same enemies, and some little reward spots that make no sense, modelling three types of trees and an enemy camp is way quicker to do than actually making an entire new map (they didnt have to make it the same size btw, just make it big but unique caves, put the gravity effect down there in enclosed spaces! makes it less weird to have randomly happen in the sky! etc) but its there!! its in the game and if they are lucky most players wont go down there enough to notice how meaningless and unfinished it all is)

knowing they would most likely never admit to it though, probably bc of their reputation, is just addign to the frustrations i have with it :I

(i just hate to not know the reason for things, if the devs, who are usually the ones being worked to the bone for things they know arent good, where put through that bc some executive big shot threw their tables around every so often or neglected their project bc they wanted to focus on something else first ... id like to know, i dont enjoy making up these conspiracy (?) theories .......... but i cant shake this feeling, its jsut makes no sense)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my mom to either get me what I've asked for, or to just get me gift cards?

This probably makes me sound horrible and ungrateful, but this is an issue I've had for about the last ten years of my life. I love my mother dearly, and I am so insanely grateful that we are in a financial position where we can receive gifts at all. I'd genuinely be happy with just a card and a cozy day in, but my mom always insists it isn't Christmas without at least one or two things under the tree.

I always ask her routinely as we inch toward the later months of the year what she'd like, and I do my best to get her exactly what she wants. I'll get her one or two other things too, like some skincare or chocolates or shoes or something, but I always stick to what she actually asks for.

If she asks me for a specific dress, she'll get it. If she asks me for a certain type of perfume, she'll get it.

The same....Cannot be said for her.

I've begged her over the years to just stick to getting me what I ask for. I don't ask for anything expensive. I think the most expensive thing I've ever asked for were concert tickets, and I offered to pay half. I just more or less wanted help actually getting them, because as we all know, concert tickets sell so fast its like you blink and they're gone, and the more people you have trying to get them the more chances of success.

Usually I'll ask for something like a particular poster I saw online, or a bedding set, a new phone case, ect. Small, easy to get things because honestly, I don't need that much.

What I actually end up with is a bunch of random stuff I will never use and clothing I'd never wear and once or twice, tickets to do things I hate doing.

Its like she asks me what I want then goes out of her way to get me the exact opposite of what I've asked for. She always pouts at me and berates me for 'looking disappointed' or never using anything she gets me (I hold onto it for a few months then quietly give it away to a friend or thrift store).

It makes me feel guilty, but this is a conversation we have every. Single. Christmas.

(For example I'll ask for, say, a pair of white shoes. What I'll actually get is a box of wind up toys from the dollar store, expensive paint brushes when I've never touched paint in my life, and a box of chocolates from a brand I don't like.)

This year, once again, she asked me for my list, and I just gave her some stores and told her I'd like gift cards to those places. She gave me a weird look and dropped it, but asked again a few times, and each time I just reiterated what stores I wanted gift cards to.

Well lo behold, I come home from college and there's packages under the tree. Proper packages, not just envelopes or anything else that a gift card would realistically be in.

I guess I was staring at the tree with a weird/sour expression, because it wound up starting an argument between us. Her argument was she's getting me gifts, I should be grateful, and she tries really hard but I'm just 'impossible to please.'

My argument is I tell her repeatedly exactly what I want and not once have I ever gotten what's actually on my list. In which case, why the fuck should I bother writing a list? I'd rather have the gift cards so I can buy exactly what I wanted in the first place.

She said I ask for clothes, I get clothes. I said I ask for specific clothes and she gets me ones that I wouldn't even look at in the store, let alone buy.

The whole argument ended up with her calling me an ungrateful asshole and confiscating my gifts to return them all after the New Year. She told me I can just have the money from returning them and 'be fucking happy for once.'

Its Christmas Eve and she's still not speaking to me. I feel terrible, but I'm also relieved. Either this means from now on she won't get me anything, or from now on if she asks for my list she'll actually get me what's on it.

My dad is staying in the middle. He said I'm right, and over the years he's tried to convince her not to buy all that stuff, but he also said I should've just done what I always do, fake a smile, and get rid of it later.

Is he right or was this fight a blessing in disguise? Am I the asshole for ruining Christmas or am I justified in voicing what I have for the last ten years running?

What are these acronyms?

[anameistoohard]

Hello! We thought it might be good to have a pinned post so y'all can know a bit about us.

I guess start with the obvious thanks to that title: We are a we.

The bit less obvious: We are one person :p We learned we were a system in September 2022. There's a bunch of us in here but not everyone fronts. The ones that do often have a lot of identity confusion/blendyness so we don't usually specify who's speaking. If you don't know, you can refer to us by the body's name, Taylor, and the pronouns we us irl, she/her.

We are also a trans woman: Or at least... the body is? It's complicated. The majority of us are girls/strongly fem leaning but we have some guys and enbies in here too. We started hrt in October 2021 so we were already a year into it when we learned about our system. After a lot of questioning we came to the consensus that we should continue hrt. The guys are willing to put up with it and overall we are quite happy with the changes.

Autism and dyslexia: These make our writing a bit stilted/disjointed sounding sometimes. The two of them combined can make socializing online exhausting, trying to figure out what to say and how to say it (anxiety is no help either). If we don't respond right away, or at all, just know we're sorry 💜

Art! The reason you're probably here lol: We create art in just about the most inefficient way possible, in ms Paint, where there are no layers, you can only rotate in 90° intervals, and if you try to resize a picture it becomes a blurry pixilated mess. And we do so without a drawing tablet. When we make pixel art we're manually placing squares one at a time. But there's something kind of soothing about this slow monotonous inefficiency. We mostly do pixel art, but sometimes we make comics, or just whatever we feel like making.

If you have any questions, this is an open invitation to ask: Curiosity is a good thing! Don't worry if you're using the "wrong" language or you think something might be too personal, as long as you're respectful and kind, feel free to ask us anything about us/our experiences/our art. If we don't want to answer we don't have to, so there's no harm in asking. Just please don't turn to us for links/resources, we're not good at keeping track of that kind of stuff.

Written by Mark (they/them), Danny (he/him), and Taylor (she/her)

(Edit: I guess we should mention we have a twitter too)

[mothwingwritings]

Green

F!Reader X Strade

Really original name for this one, major kudos to me for that one. B)

Here’s another little Strade thing. I remember reading somewhere on Gato’s blog that his fav color is green so this was born from that. I honestly may have made that up in my head though so if I did just pretend it’s true. :)

Anyway, it’s just another little ficlet while I work on some little stuff. I hope you all enjoy and thank you, as always, for reading. (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

THIS IS 18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!

Warnings: Mentions of noncon, torture, abuse, (briefly) suicide, and imprisonment.

Green was your favorite color.

You can’t really remember what originally attracted you to it, whether it was that you genuinely enjoyed the shade or if you were just trying to be cool and not pick a color that was overly ‘girly’. But after years of placing it on a pedestal, dubbing it your favorite amongst all other colors, your affection for it had remained solid.

Whenever you bought an item, whether it was something little or an object that was pricier, you always checked to see if it came in green. The walls of your childhood bedroom were coated in the color, and when you moved out on your own and were in charge of your own interior decorating, green was what you chose to paint most of the rooms.  You adorned yourself in it, green being the prominent color in your wardrobe and jewelry collection. Sweaters, dresses, pants- at least one of each came in green. Even a vast array of your makeup was dedicated to the color, matching perfectly with whatever outfit you donned yourself in should you feel the urge to get a little more gussied up.

And on the night you met Strade green was one of the first things you talked about.

After he introduced himself you complimented his shirt. Or at least that’s how you remember it, the night itself had become a bit of a blur. You were shy by nature and not used to people ambling up to you for conversation, let alone at a bar (someplace you only went because you were meeting up with friends and just happened to arrive the earliest). You awkwardly tripped over your words, flustered by the man who had welcomed himself so easily into your space, taking the seat across from you so naturally it was as if he was the friend you had been waiting for.

After a preliminary exchanging of greetings and light pleasantries, an uncomfortable silence lingered between the two of you. He seemed perfectly content just being in your presence, sipping his beer with a twinkle in his eye as he watched you fidget and squirm through the forced interaction. You must have checked your phone at least a hundred times in hopes of an update, grimacing when one finally arrived in the form of a text stating your friends were stuck in traffic and probably wouldn’t be at the bar for at least another thirty minutes.

Your new companion’s unwavering stare coupled with the suffocating and boisterous atmosphere of the bar was starting to do a number on you. You contemplated hiding in the bathroom, but you weren’t too keen on sitting in a dimly lit, poorly maintained stall for a half hour while you waited on your friends. And if you dipped in there for a little bit just to find some reprieve, you’d still be facing the same situation when you came back out.

So mustering your courage, you decided to try and take some initiative in an attempt to make things a little less awkward.

“Um, I like your shirt,” you spoke just loud enough that he could hear you over the noise of the other patrons.  Though you were overcome with nerves, you figured it best to lead a conversation with a compliment. Who doesn’t like to receive praise, even for something as trivial as a garment? “It’s a nice color, green is my favorite.”

Instant embarrassment caused your cheeks to flush. The words sounded a lot less childish in your head, and you chided yourself over how silly it sounded as soon as they left your lips. What kind of adult starts a conversation at a bar by talking about their favorite color? What were you, five?

But he laughed warmly, genuinely pleased by your comment, dispelling all feelings of bashfulness. At the time you liked the way his laugh sounded, warm and inviting as it fooled you into thinking that maybe he actually could become your friend.

“Thanks, and good choice,” he shot you a lopsided smile, raising his half-full mug to you. “Green’s my favorite, too.”

It was funny in a tragic sort of way, how something that you used to enjoy so much now just filled you with cold, deep, dread.

Now you could only associate green with pain. Green reminded you of his arms, constricting and choking you, squeezing you within an inch of your life as he dragged you away from the last semblance of normalcy you’d ever experience. Green reminded you of his chest, smothering you, muffling your screams as he tested out his newest weapon on you- the green handle of his knife getting stained with red splatters, your blood coating it as he carved into you with reckless abandon.

Green reminded you of the carpet in his bedroom, where he would hold you down after he finished brutalizing some poor soul in his basement, still high off his kill as he fucked you long and hard, getting off to your cries of pain as he spilled himself deep inside of you. Green reminded you of the bedsheets you would snatch off his bed, cocooning them around your body for a false sense of security, creating a flimsy shield against the rest of the world. Every night when you fell asleep nestled inside of them, Strade not far from your side, you wondered if one day he may use them to strangle you. You wondered if maybe that would be for the best, if you just never woke up again.

Green used to be yours, a color that loved ones and friends used to associate with you.  A color you used to look at and see yourself in. A color that used to bring you joy.

Now all it reminded you of was Strade and just how much of yourself you had lost to him.

[maximilliansblog]

How to build your first fursuit head for ~$100 USD (2023)

What’s good furries? I’m sure a lot of you have a fursona and want to make your first fursuit. I recommend starting with a partial just in case you mess up or fall out of the hobby. It’s also less expensive!

This tutorial will only cover the head. I haven’t made any of the other stuff and I’m probably going to buy it online premade because I’m lazy.

1.) Have a reference sheet for your fursona.

If you are an artist, draw (the best you can) a reference sheet of your fursona from the front, side, and back. I made a little turnaround animation for mine, but this is not necessary.

Not an artist? Don’t want to draw? Commission someone to do it for you. I recommend Etsy, but you can find furry artists with open commissions all over the internet.

No money for commissions? You might be out of luck. Ask a friend or draw it the best you can. Alternatively, you can edit someone else’s fursona reference sheet to make it look like your fursona. Yeah, it’s stealing. Just don’t post it and act like it’s yours 👍

You can also go into the Roblox game, Catalogue Avatar Creator, and assemble something that looks kind of like your fursona. Take a screenshot of it from the front, side, and back, then go into a photo editor (I recommend IbisPaint or MediBang Paint, they are both free) and add in your special details.

I recommend not making your first fursuit super complicated or some kind of rare species. But you do you. It will just be really hard.

Also determine what style of fursuit you want. Toony? Kemono? Realistic? (I don’t recommend realistic for your first fursuit but you do you). This will be important later.

2.) Find Shit to Build It With

Once again, I recommend Etsy. You’ll need:

+ all the fur colors you need (try 2-3)

+ eye mesh

+ 3D printed mask

+ hot glue gun and hot glue sticks (dollar store)

+ needle and thread (dollar store or Walmart)

+ balaclava

+ styrofoam head

+ fabric scissors

+ extra foam pieces for ears or horns

Assemble all of that. It should be around $80-120 USD.

Your 3D printed mask is the most important thing. Another reason to get a relatively common species. Mine was a dragon. Remember the fursuit style you picked earlier? Search on etsy “3d printed [style] [species] furry mask” and you should be able to find one. You can also get pre-made foam heads. I don’t recommend trying to make your own head base, because A) it’s hard and B) those materials cost more money.

This shit will take a while to come in so don’t get too excited about it. My mask took like a month because it came from Germany.

3.) Mark the Color Spots on your Head Base

Basically just take a sharpie and outline the different color regions on your headbase. You can also use a pencil if you’re a pussy /j

4.) Uhhhh Eyeball That Fabric Pattern and Hot Glue the Pieces to Your Headbase

Some people use duct tape to make a pattern. That did not work for me! So I eyeballed it. Made some mistakes. That’s okay.

5.) Trim Down the Fur Length

Most people use clippers for this but I didn’t want to buy any and I didn’t know how to use them so I did it VERY CAREFULLY with scissors.

6.) Fill in the Cracks Between Your Hot Glue Seams With Loose Fur

Look at all this damn fur on the floor! If only there was something to do with it!

Put hot glue between the super visible seams where you hotglued different pieces of fabric next to each other, then pack in some of that loose fur. Cut it down if it’s too long. The seams will be less visible.

7.) Hot Glue the Eye Mesh Behind the Eye Holes

VERY CAREFULLY hot glue this so your character isn’t cross-eyed. You can try follow-me eyes but I didn’t do that with mine.

8.) Add Your Extra Details

You know like whiskers or plastic teeth or a tongue or anything else you want to put on there.

Now you’re done with the mask part.

9.) CAREFULLY Hot Glue Your Balaclava to the Inside of the Mask

The eye hole should be where your eye mesh is so that you can see out. Also make sure some of the balaclava is glued to the top of the mask.

10.) Weigh Down Your Styrofoam Head With a Heavy Rock

Or put it on a stand. Or hot glue it to the table. Whatever works.

11.) Put the Balaclava that you Glued to the Mask on the Styrofoam Head

Pretty simple. The reason we weighed down the styrofoam head is because the front of your mask will be heavy and make it fall over while you’re trying to work.

12.) ????? Put Fur On the Balaclava

You’ll also need to like add some fur connecting the sides of the mask to the balaclava. Hard to explain. You’ll probably figure it out?

13.) Trim that Fur and Put the Trimmings in the Seams Like Before

14.) Take it off of the Styrofoam Head

You may need to cut a slit in the back of the neck of your fursuit head. Not only will it help get the styrofoam head out, now your head can get in and out too!

15.) Put it on

Edit it if something is wrong. It might feel crooked but it’s probably not.

16.) Enjoy!

Hopefully this was helpful! This is how made mine.

[brehaaorgana]

Sorry my reply will probably just be too long for a comment lol @itspeepytime

Basically I think like — yes, I agree basic art classes should teach the love of creation and the practice of just creating and such.

However, I would not frame something like "teaching the basic science of art mediums and pigments, or color theory" to be "rules" per se. Fundamentals of the skill, yes. Rules? No. These are tools. If you know your tools, you can use them to do all kinds of conventional and unconventional things, but you also know what is not physically possible.

Example:

I will never get green if I mix magenta and cyan. That's not a creativity-limiting rule, that's just a fundamental fact of color mixing. A limiting rule is "leaves should be painted green."

That's a limiting rule. It's a limit on how to paint leaves. How to approach something.

But "magenta and cyan don't make green," is a fundamental. They make purple. You can't change that fact.

You can, however, paint leaves using purple, dark blue, or red.

We admire Monet and the impressionists for their use of light and color, which may have gone against conventions of the time — but they all deeply cared about the fundamental science of light and color. And they were studying it and using fundamentals.

It's great to teach intro students how to enjoy making art, but it's not limiting to help them understand the tools they have at their disposal in orded to make art. "PB15 is a transparent pigment called phthalo blue" isn't a stifling rule, it's a fact. Likewise if I tell you the mass tone of pb15 is incredibly dark, meaning you reach maximum chroma with some dilution/mixing (regardless of the medium), that doesn't stifle creative choices, it just explains what the tool you're using does.

So I'm never surprised by how phthalo blue is going to mix in any given color mixing experiment because I know the mass tone is darker than the maximum chroma I can reach, and I know it's a transparent pigment so it will mix and layer differently from an opaque pigment.

It's like - when I was a TA for an intro art history course, I had some stem students who were taking the class for a gen ed, and they panicked at first because we didn't really spend any time teaching art fundamentals the textbook briefly introduces. So they had no foundation for what they were trying to do or the tools we had for talking about art history. They came to my office hours and I was like "okay let's back up. Before you try to figure out like, meaning of a painting or history, let's just figure out how composition works and how I know what it is, because that's a good building block."

And then I brought print outs of various paintings and starting drawing over them to show them how composition worked and what I was identifying, before having them try it too. Like foreground, mid ground, background. That's a fundamental. Triangular compositions. Rule of thirds. Stuff that helped them see how creativity works with tools, and isn't just all abstract feelings and pure whimsical talent or something. And then I said "great so now you know how we figure this part out, so what's the focus of the painting? What is the artist focusing on? Is there somewhere the composition is emphasizing, or downplaying? And why might that be done?"

Suddenly it was less terrifying to learn art history for them, because it had structures and a logic and tools you could learn, rather than being about innate creativity or artistry.

I had to give them a fundamental building block.

I can tell anyone "draw a person standing under a tree," but if they're like "well all I can do is this-"

There are tools I can give them to understand how someone achieves something else! I feel like an overemphasis on "there all no rules, and I just want you to enjoy it" can be just as much of a problem as an overemphasis on too many strict conventions! Especially since so many people (non-art majors) are intimidated by the idea that they "can't" do great art because they simply don't have the "talent" needed when they just "do" it. They get frustrated and don't understand why they can't see improvement.

An extreme either way is bad, but I think lately it's swung sooo far in favor of "art has no rules, so fundamentals are limiting." that it's kinda bad, because even the art majors aren't learning some basic things.

[synthaphone]

Do you mind if I ask what kind of clay you use for your sculptures? I recently tried to get into clay sculpting and I thought that I had gotten good clay but it seems like no matter what I do it doesn't look smooth and I just leave dents, bumps, and fingerprints all over it. It might just be me being new and bad at the craft, though (like should I be wearing gloves?) But if the clay does make a difference, the kind you use looks nice ;o;

I don’t mind at all!

I use oven bake polymer clay for my sculptures! For the ones I paint, I use a combination of Super Sculpey (peach colored) and Super Sculpey Firm (grey colored). i usually use the former for the base of the sculpture, and then the firmer clay for small details and areas that I want to give a little extra strength.

I find i have the worst issues with fingerprints when i use the type of Sculpey that comes in white- its a lot softer than the Super variants (and also more brittle in its baked form). I used some for the white parts of this sculpture I made in 2019, and its a lot less smooth than my more recent sculptures

BUT! I’ve also started doing some stuff in recent years that could potentially help with getting a smoother look on any variety of sculpey!

i started baking my sculptures in stages- sculpey can be rebaked multiple times without too much trouble, and this helps prevent me from leaving fingerprints on or squishing parts while im working on another part of the sculpture (although too many times and it can start to look burnt, so if youre not painting it you’ll want to watch out for this). it can be a little difficult to get unbaked clay to stick to the baked clay though, so i use the oven bake glue sculpey makes to help adhere it

I started using fine grit sandpaper on baked sculptures to smooth out unwanted lumps and fingerprints. this can work really well, especially on larger smooth areas where theres less danger of accidentally snapping something off. if you try it, you probably want to wear a dust mask and do this somewhere ventilated, because breathing the clay dust seems like a bad idea.

My friend gifted me this set of clay tools, and the one with the pointy blue silicone tip has been super helpful for smoothing over small areas that my fingers cant reach.

i found out like, a month ago? that you can use rubbing alcohol on unbaked sculpey to smooth out fingerprints, and it works SO well. just test it out first on sculpey with added pigments, like the little packs that come in bright colors- i tried it out with some gold sculpey that had glitter in it and it didnt work as well there as it does on the super sculpey/super sculpey firm- with the gold it felt like the alcohol was like, catching the pigment and glitter bits and giving the clay a weird filmy appearance. but i just put a little onto the sculpture with my finger or the silicone tool and it really helps smoothing out the surface!

sorry for the long answer, and that its only really relevant for one type of clay- i hope that it can potentially be helpful though!!

[rayshippouuchiha]

Concept, Skull gets hella drunk one night, and the others are doing general drinking games/teasing type of stuff. They decide to crack on Skull cause he's the youngest and so he's probably not got much experience. Cue Skull whipping out an unnecessarily erotic comparison between what he's like as a sex partner and his abilities with a motorcycle.

Reborn refuses to let Skull get on a motorcycle around him ever again, he can't embarrass himself with his thirst like that in front of others.

So I, of course, had to tweak it just a bit:

The thing is, Skull's never been much of a drinker.

And, despite what Reborn and Colonnello like to say, it's not because he's a lightweight.

No, it's always been the opposite problem with Skull.

It takes a staggering amount of dangerously high-proof alcohol to get him actually drunk.

So much so that Skull had only ever been actually and fully drunk once in his life. He'd never bothered again because, well, most bars wouldn't serve that amount of alcohol to a single person and, most importantly of all, it was an outrageously expensive ordeal.

He'd always had better things to spend whatever money he might have on than trying to get wasted.

Skull's long suspected some kind of Flame fuckery at work but hasn't bothered to really look into it.

Still, whenever drinking had come up with the Arcobaleno before the curse Skull either hadn't bothered to drink at all or had gone for the kind of fruit-filled or extravagant cocktail that always got him a lot of ribbing.

Because if he wasn't going to be able to get drunk but they weren't going to let him leave, then he should at least be able to drink something interesting that doesn't taste like actual paint thinner.

But now? After a handful of decades in the Mafia and with all of the money he's actually managed to accumulate plus an entire case of the specially formulated liquor Verde had cooked up?

Now Skull is well and truly on his way to being wasted.

Which is the perfect time for Skull to remember that, unlike what most would probably think, he's not the loud and overly obnoxious or casually violent type of drunk.

No, that's Colonnello and Fon in order.

Instead, Drunk Skull tends to be way more honest and mouthy than Sober Skull.

"Boo," Colonnello tosses a handful of pretzels in Skull's direction even as he folds yet another hand of cards to Reborn. "You suck Skull, thought you'd be more interesting than this when we finally got you wasted. Come on, be entertaining."

Skull's not sure why anyone's willing to play poker, even Mafia Poker, with Reborn when the fucker so obviously counts cards no matter how many decks are used.

"Save the pigtail pulling for Lal, okay Nello?" Skull finds himself saying, eyes on his own game of Mafia Solitaire and one hand playing with his glittery purple crazy straw. His tall glass of violently green alcohol is a little less than half full and Skull is feeling more than a bit loose. "I'm not gonna fuck you no matter how drunk I get, you're not really my type."

"Hey!" Colonnello squawks, the beer bottle in his hand suddenly hurtling in Skull's direction. "My heart and body belong to Lal alone, asshole."

Skull catches the bottle and then casually tosses it toward the recycling bin that's just visible in the kitchen from where he's sitting. It goes in of course, Skull hadn't filled in for the knife-throwing act as a teenager more than once without learning how to aim his projectiles.

"I've seen your dick, Nello," Skull can't help but tease as he lays down an Ace Of Knives, "that's not as much of a flex as you think it is. Be happy to give you some tips though if you're ready to stop disappointing Lal."

Colonnello looks appropriately scandalized, Reborn's sporting that little smirk of his that's basically a laugh, and beside Colonnello Lal Mirch just snorts into her whiskey tumbler, obviously amused.

Which is both true and false. Skull's absolutely seen Colonnello's dick enough to last him a lifetime but he's not actually as tragic as Skull's making him out to be. Not that Skull will ever admit that.

If there's one thing he's good at after all it's committing to The Bit.

"Brave talk from the group baby," Colonnello cuts back. "Bet you've never even touched a woman, and no your mom doesn't count."

There's a round of immature snickers around the table that Skull honestly can't find fault in since even Verde, Viper, and Fon had joined in.

But, for once, Skull is nowhere near ready to back down.

"Well if my mom doesn't count, then your mom probably doesn't either huh?" Skull bats his lashes at Colonello. "If so then you should probably tell her to stop calling me."

He gets a fist full of peanuts thrown at him this time.

"You know, Skull," Reborn practically slinks his way into the conversation, voice sly, "if you're interested in getting some actual experience I'm sure I know a few ways to help you out."

And as is so often the case with Reborn, Skull's not sure if that's an offer or a threat.

Probably both if he's being honest.

Either way it's also a taunt Skull just can't let stand like he normally would.

"Yelena and Drago Marckovich," Skull lets his tongue wrap around the names.

"Oh?" Reborn's attention is, as always, like being put underneath a combination spotlight/microscope. "And who, pray tell, are they?"

Skull leans back in his chair, aware of how he's somehow gathered everyone in the room's attention.

Which, to be fair, is what he does best.

"They were fraternal twins whose parents ran our high wire act," Skull tells them all. "Drago was one of the group's apprentice mechanics and Yelena was a contortionist."

Skull takes a sip of his drink.

"They were eighteen, gorgeous, and never did anything apart. They're the ones who helped me put my first bike together from the ground up too." Skull can't help the happy little sigh he huffs out. Those really had been an excellent six months. "Couldn't have picked a better pair to lose my virginity to. Taught me how to do all kinds of tricks, both on and off the bike."

There's a moment's silence.

"Bullshit," Colonnello barks out, one hand slapping down onto the tabletop. "No way in hell you bagged twins."

"Absolutely not," Skull agrees readily only to cut Colonnello's smug look off at the knees. "I was sixteen and had no idea what I was doing. They bagged me. Wasn't like I was going to say no."

Across the table, Lal actually hoots with laughter.

"They taught me the foundation for everything I know," Skull keeps going. "Yelena? Now she was all about taking those curves and corners you know? Girl could get in and out of the tightest spaces, taught me how to do the same."

Lal is outright giggling now and Colonnello's all flush faced with his mouth hanging open.

"And Drago?" Skull pauses, flicks his tongue out to play with his lip ring. Cuts his eyes just a bit in Reborn's direction. "Well let's just say he really lived up to his name. He helped me with my stamina. Helped me learn how to really ride."

The twins had been kind and fun and when their arrangement had run its course they'd parted as friends which is something Skull will always be thankful for.

"Of course," Skull waves his straw carelessly through the air around him, "when I left to strike out on my own I had to refine my technique on my own, develop my own skills and tricks, that kind of thing. Luckily there was never a shortage of eager and willing volunteers to work with. I learn better by doing and I've always been good with my hands anyways so it was fun, finding new bodies to work with and figuring out all the ways to lay each one of them out and make them purr."

Skull tosses back the rest of his drink and pushes himself up onto his feet.

"I grew up in the circus and had my own traveling stunt show by 19," Skull tells them all, more than a bit amused by the turn the evening had taken. "I've fucked my way across six continents, various oceans, and a wide variety of islands."

Skull shoves his hands into the pockets of his low-hanging sweatpants and ambles towards the veranda door.

The cool grass, wide open sky, and quiet of the garden out back are practically calling his name by this point.

There's a moment's silence and then he hears a chair scrape across the floor loudly behind him.

Skull keeps walking, doesn't bother to look back.

The fedora that drops down on top of his head isn't as much of a surprise to Skull as it might have been five or so bottles ago.

"I could stand to hear a bit more about your ,,, unexpected expertise," Reborn practically purrs from Skull's side, one large, warm hand splaying itself possessively across the small of Skull's back.

"Jealous?" Skull can't help but snip back.

"Oh no," Reborn's grin is more than a bit dark and his eyes are a hawkish sort of golden. "Jealousy implies a lack of skill. And trust me, bellissimo, that's one thing you'll never have to worry about with me."

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

Ok, since you are offended that we point out that bastard stain exists on Westeros we should all stop saying it. Because how dare we to talk about something that canon confirms?

Bastard children were born from lust and lies, men said; their nature was wanton and treacherous. Once Jon had meant to prove them wrong, to show his lord father that he could be as good and true a son as Robb.

The above passage is from Jon’s point of view and covers westerosi beliefs over bastard kids. Jon is has faced discrimination his life for something he can’t control (his status as a bastard). Just because other characters face their own difficulties it doesn’t make Jon’s situation better or  the injustice he faces hurt any less.

It’s interesting that you bring up Mya Stone to compare her life with Jon’s. Because Mya’s life only confirms that the bastard stain is real and not an imaginary case. Mya doesn’t belong to nobility. All the point of view characters (with the exception of Davos and Melisandre)were born into nobility and they have some certain privilages over the common folk people. And yes, that includes Jon who grew up in a castle and had a noble education.  That doesn’t stop us from sympathize with them and point out the difficulties some of them face in their lives, even as nobles.  For example (and since you mentioned her) Daenerys is offered shelter from Illyrio and later on he also gives her the dragon eggs as a gift. He wouldn’t offer the same shelter or gifts to non noble Doreah or Missandei. Noble names bring certain privilages and all the main characters benefit from them.

Why is it tho, that the standard that “someone had it worse” is only applied to Jon then? Instead of acknowledging that he was kid being raised up alongside his siblings  and having  less prospects than them, which is unfair, some of you try to paint him as a privilaged bastard. As if the bastard stain is something that we should subcribe to in 21st century.

I’m not gonna play the characters olympics of suffering. I know this game is popular in the fandom but it’s irrelevant to what characters will or won’t accomplish. Martin isn’t going to reward any character (Jon and Dany included) because of their suffering.  That’s not how these books work.

Moving on, it’s clear that you don’t understand what being handed to something means and since I explained on my previous reply why I don’t think that Jon is simply given stuff, I won’t do it again. Jon is gonna continue being a main character and according to your logic is gonna continue getting things for free:

The revelation of Jon being a Targ: “Jon didn’t work hard to gain the Targaryen status, he simply inherited the name from his father” (like the rest of westerosi characters but whatever)

Jon probably playing a crucial role to defeating the Others “It wasn’t Jon defeating them, it was the Others losing so he shouldn’t get credit”

Jon possibly ending in a position of power “ He didn’t work hard to become a ruler, it was the people who chose him over x character”

You must be fun at parties.

[eldritch-spouse]

I hope you see the Pin, cause I'm invested.

If we were trapped in lust, how about we become an Oiran to survive? 

Quasi Oiran, so to speak, since I wouldn't be on Oiran traditionally but moreso in spirit. 

Now a few things to note about Oirans (the Apothecary Diaries did a very good job at explaining this, so I'll use that): Unlike regular Yujyos (prostitutes) who need to find a customer every night, the best of them rarely ever take clients. The less an Oiran (a high-ranking yujyo) works, the higher her perceived value will be. All Yujyo are taught a bit about poetry and dancing at a young age; those without potential are immediately put to night service work after their debut, while those with potential continue with their education, spending their time with customers merely drinking tea. As their conventional skills and wisdom increase, so does their price, and they will accept requests even more rarely. Eventually, it comes to a cost a year's worth of salary to just share nothing but a cup of tea with such an Orian. Among them are even a few who would never come to know a customer's touch up until the day they are bought. They're priced so highly because they're an untouchable flower; once plucked, they lose half their value.

Some stuff would probably need to be tweaked in order for this to work, but here is a route I think could be taken.

So you land in lust! (Preferably as a virgin cause that can be used later.) Like a rational person, you start hauling ass as soon as you can gather yourself cause you don't want to be snu-snu-ed to death. Hopefully you can stumble across a nice enough high-ranker who would be willing to help you out—for a price, of course. Now, this could depend on the high-ranker because if they don't immediately take our virginity, we could sell it for a high price because in the Pinnie universe, a human's virginity is like ambrosia, but I don't really see that happening since who would pass up the opportunity, you know? But anyway, in return for their protection, we could make a deal to bring in three times the amount they bring in a year. There are many human fuckers to pick and choose from, so it wouldn't be too hard to get the bag. Before we make our debut, we should train in the arts like Yujyo do. We could use dance or singing for normal customers, and for customers with a taste for finer things, we could use poetry, calligraphy (you see what I did there 😏) and aktpainting, which is the painting of nude people. But of course I'll have sex with my customers so they keep coming back, I'll just try to engage with them in thay way sparingly so that they can become addicted. After we make our debut, hopefully we can make enough money to hire some wrath demon bodyguards, and then we can truly make our way up the ranks to become an Oiran because we may have our pimp, but I don't think they can hold our hand and protect us all the time. If a customer is being too pushy, we can just call in our guards to have their ass booted 🤷🏽‍♀️. It's very likely that our guards and pimp will become obsessed with us but if we were smart enough to make it thus far it will be no trouble to play demon wrangler. And if by a slim pubic hair of a chance we can get an angel to keep all of them in check, we would be set for life.

So that's it!

The reason I think it would be a good idea to become an Oiran is because, let's be honest, in lust where it's all about fucking, we wouldn't be too popular to make someone believe we're trying to out-whore them but popular enough to get that sweet, sweet money. Another reason why I thought it could work is because Concubi place an importance on virginity. I'm not sure if it applies to how many times you slept with someone, but by being a 'flower' and a human at the same time it could attract a lot of customers, so why not use it?

(I hope all of this made sense since I'm not a native speaker)

[It sort of made sense. I don't know much about the nuance of these cultures, so I'm not going to dip into that side too much.]

Making it in Lust is hard, especially as a virgin. Even if someone with a modicum of power takes enough pity on you to offer you a leg up, there's always the risk of it going downhill. It depends on your luck, cleverness and, oftentimes, ruthlessness.

Someone similar to an oiran, in Lust, would have a difficult time.

Even if there are many concubi (and other types of fiends/non-demonic inhabitants) who get into the mysticism and attributed rarity of a female companion like that, getting off endlessly on that temptation to leap across the table while the two of you have a conversation over tea... There are also many crowds eager to debase and "corrupt" you, to turn you into a senseless whore like themselves.

You're never truly safe either way. Some of your regulars may become eerily attached and possessive of you, maybe even threatening to toss you out to the demons who give you leery stares as you walk because you refuse to see them more often or to touch them.

Keep in mind that blueballing a concubus isn't really a good idea, unless they make it clear they're into that. Because otherwise, you're holding a steak to a lion's mouth and constantly yanking it away before they can snag it. Eventually, they'll get tired and bite some of your fingers off along with it.

Your life in Lust will be one led with extreme caution.

[bladeydp]

I only learned about this shameful affair a few months after the release of Fake Worlds End in late 2023. In this post, I will describe what happened and my subjective opinion of lunariamv as an active domestic Charon fan on the Internet.

First let's understand who lunariamv is. lunariamv is an online game maker (active on Tumblr and tiktok) who has been reviled by charon fans overseas for pirated charon games. lunariamv started out as a painter, but one day he started to imitate charon's games. At first, it was just the imitation of the painting style, and then gradually began to copy the original. lunariamv's Doom Stones is a direct copy of charon's Makoto Mobius. Not long ago, lunariamv copied Mikoto Nikki again.

Now let's talk about my personal feelings

My favorite charon character is Mikio from Makoto Mobius. I've only been active on Twitter for six months now. The first time I saw the Doom Stones CG I naively thought it was some unfinished work by charon. And then I was misled, like an idiot, and I posted it on Twitter. Later, under the explanation of the Internet fans, I found that what I saw was something contrary to heaven. (I ended up deleting that tweet because it was disgusting to think of copycat stuff as a family thing) and lunariamv drew Mikio as a man...

lunariamv, don't you get it? The decision to change the original in order to make it look less identical is disgusting...)

(" I don't Want People Who are hindering Me to Interact with Me "is like a thief declaring that he is stealing from people around him and not to stop him.) He claims to be artistic and aesthetic without any consideration for anything else, like A saying to B: "I like your dress, but you will be mediocre without it, so I will get the same dress as you." Let me make my position clear: I do not oppose those who learn from charon's painting style, and the later development of painting style depends on the reference in the early stage. But isn't it a little cheeky to copy the plot? lunariamv claims to be a charon fan, but she would rather draw a fan map of her own game than a fan map of charon's own character. In addition, lunariamv's early works were found to have been copied by overseas charon fans.

Like Matsuri? That's right, because lunariamv doesn't make people.

However, lunariamv explained the plagiarism: "I didn't do it intentionally, it was just for fun."

One day I robbed your house of every penny left, and when I finally tell you, "I didn't mean to rob your house, it was just for fun," you will be happy.

Why are you calling this guy Mikio? You probably know that I like Mikio, and I think you're getting back at me and the other Charon fans, right? lunariamv, I should have known you had no shame.

And this guy is trying to mislead his uninformed fans by branding his game as a Charon game.

lunariamv posted a video of herself playing the game she copied from Charon on YouTube. lunariamv's YouTube account:

I argued with him in the comments section of YouTube and was met with sophistry:

Even if you have no business purpose, no intention of making a profit, but you have done such a reckless thing, especially against the Charon group, lunariamv, I just want to ask you, is your conscience being eaten by a dog? You don't talk back to other fans, you don't talk back to me, you use the law as a shield when I'm judging, do you really think the world revolves around you?

So I went to tumblr to argue with this asshole. Continue to expose this guy's evil deeds under this guy's blog, and then he responded to me like this:

Who gave you the courage to be a thief and scold me for exposing your ugly face? First: No one listens to your guile, your guile is against ethics. Second, other fans are helping me. I only look at the facts. Third: I am 18 years old. I was diagnosed with ADHD as a child and had symptoms of delusional disorder. But I'm not retarded. I think lunariamv's comments have violated my right to personal dignity, mocking me as childish, retarded, and incapable of respecting others. No, have you ever respected other fans who come to you to talk to you alone? (There are private messages from overseas fans about how this guy's stolen work compares to the original, but this guy doesn't reply) Do you respect Charon? You're talking about respect here?

Not only was I scolded, but lunariamv wrote a short essay in order to "repay" my exposure:

(I have three requirements for you :1. Stop infringing 2. Delete the works that involve plagiarism 3. A public apology to Charon makes it spam?)Stop using the law as an excuse. I've seen that too many times before, "I don't take Inspiration as my own," and when you posted your last rip-off and shamelessly called it original, how did I tweet it back at you?

Just because you acknowledge and praise the original work doesn't mean you can copy it, but if you acknowledge and praise the renovation of my home, you can pick the door lock of my home? What bandit logic...) How can you proudly compare yourself to everything in the world? A: Do you think in other people's shoes? Don't you ignore other fans when they explain to you calmly? In my private letter to you, I just repeatedly emphasized my three demands. Did I verbally attack you? Isn't it true that you plagiarized? (" I'll Take Criticism with a grain of Salt, "and then you posted this quibbling essay.)

"You want the same thing as Charon, Please don't expect it," Then you don't fucking get involved with Charon, you can't be original? Your work is too misleading, and some Charon fans who don't know the truth have begun to defend you, really fucking "Congratulations, congratulations" ah)(you have violated the bottom line of Charon and Charon fans again and again, my evaluation is either apologize or delete the number roll, pretend what big tail Wolf)

This guy played Fake Worlds End and still insists he didn't plagiarize, knowing Charon went through a plagiarism scandal and still plagiarized, so it's a little cheeky to defend herself, right?

By the way, this guy is already copying mix ore.

Finally, I gave it to lunariamv with one of our famous Chinese poems. Anyway, that guy doesn't understand the broad and profound Chinese culture.

《诗经·彼阳》

彼阳若至，初升东曦。

绯雾飒蔽，似幕绡绸。

彼阳篝碧，雾霂涧滁。

赤石冬溪，似玛瑙潭。

彼阳晚意，暖梦似乐。

寐游浮沐，若雉飞舞。

あなたは少し能力と度胸があるならば、私の郵便受けに来て私のフィードバックを探します:tamasuyouaya@gmail.com

盗作って何ができるんですか?