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byuntrash101 · 10 months

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dirty laundry & wet dreams

reader x perv!han smut | mdni 2.4k jisung has a big fat crush on you and the only way he can cope with his feeings is to jack off to the thought of you with the clothes he's stolen nsfw tags under the cut

perv!jisung, roommates AU, somnophilia (that means non con), bodywhorship (f), panty snifffer!han, scent kink, jisung is just obssesed with you tbh, jisung takes pictures of you while you sleep, getting caught kink, groping, masturbation (m), oral (f), squirting, cum eating

a/n: i have been thinking about this for a long a time. thank you everyone that voted for han i think the perv thing suits him he just extra pervy and we love to see it <3 also dont mind me being obsessed with his hair (im fine) (no im not)

DISCLAIMER: PLEASE MAKE SURE TO READ THE TAGS AND TO CLICK OFF IF ANYTHING SEEMS LIKE SOMETHING YOU WOULDN’T ENJOY.

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Jisung sighed in frustration again. Still nothing! He’s been salvaging your laundry basket for this past week and there’s nothing he’s interested in.

He settled for your dirty gym tank top and stuffed it in his pocket before leaving the shared bathroom and heading to his room.

You see, Jisung has had a silly little crush on you for a year now and that’s the only way he knows that helps him cope. That way he can act normal to you during the day, doing standard roommate stuff, like sharing a meal or watching anime together on your tiny laptop screen set on the coffee table in your student flat.

That way he can do all these without catching his eyes plunging into your cleavage showing every time you bent down a little to scoop food into your mouth. Or he can keep his hands to himself when you're sitting so close to him in the small couch, when your beautiful thighs are pressed to his own and he feels this rush through his body, grabbing a cushion to hide away the growing problem in his groin. His thumb lightly brushing over it under the cushion as he laughs at the show and comments casually on it with you. As if it’s nothing.

Because he knows at night he’ll swipe your PJ's and press them to his face as if he was ready to absorb them through his nostrils. Snort your scent like a drug and let it take him to ecstasy, his mind traveling to a place where you are his, where he can smell and taste you. where he can feel your heated lips on his, where he can hear your blazing skin clashing against his, where he can feel how tight you are, how wet you are just for him, trembling, shaking, moaning for him.

But tonight it doesn't work. He took the sport top off his face out of frustration. He stayed there immobile laid on his bed as the heavy and hot summer air engulfed itself through his cracked window.

The smell doesn't do it for him… Of course it’s nice, it smells like you! But it also smelled like perfume and deodorant… that he didn’t like he liked your true smell, like nature intended it! To him you didn't need these artifices, your most natural self was perfect.

That’s why he would always steal your PJ’s because usually you hop in the shower at night then hop into your night clothes and spend the night in them, beautifully infusing them with your divine scent and refined flavour and Jisung would steal them in the morning to soil them at night. That was his perfect routine. He doesn't know why you’re keeping your dirty PJ’s in your room now, not putting them in the basket every morning like you used to.

But tonight he decides it’s too much, it’s been weeks he hasn’t been able to take a good whiff of your scent and he decides he’s just going to get the clothes directly from your bedroom. Before he has the chance to chicken out he slips on his shorts back and heads to your room.

He almost levitates in the hall. He feels a light warm breeze on his bare chest as he tiptoes to your room.

Thankfully your door is pressed shut not locked he doesn't even have to push on the creaking handle just lightly push in the door. But his heart stops when he spots you.

You are sound asleep, the city lights seeping from your open window, the light summer wind gently blowing on your heated and soft skin. Your breath quietly whistles as the air slither in and out of your lips between your teeth. Your hair beautifully spilled onto the pillow. You are absolutely breathtaking and also completely nude.

Jisung hears his heart beat in his ears, the accelerated blood flow drilling in his eardrums, making his chest heave up and down silently, sucking in one shaky breath after the other.

He only wanted to swipe a top and maybe a pair of panties from you he never ever even dared to hope to find you like this. Spread on your bed in all your glory. Never has he had the privilege to have such a view so he admired your body for long seconds, without a care for the discarded PJ’s next to your bed. Those were the last things on Jisung’s mind right now.

He was only obsessed with you, with the way you breathed so calmly, with the way the light breeze made your perfect nipples harden, with the way your heavenly face seemed so peaceful, so tranquil with both your arms resting beside it as you laid on your back, your breast lightly spilling to your sides. Your beautiful legs extended in front of you. You looked fabricated, too perfect to be earthly. A piece of art, a masterpiece, a perfection only achievable by God themselves.

Jisung swallowed thickly as he velvet traded to your bedside, entranced by your form. His eyes trailed down from your neck to your breasts to your stomach and even lower. What he wouldn’t give for you to spread your legs. Just a little so he could have a small peak at the object of his every thought. The secret and mysterious wonder he has been only able to imagine for this past year. If only you could just move, just a little bit.

Squeeeeek

One of the boards of the wooden floor creaked as Jisung stepped on it. He froze in his tracks, catching his bottom lip between his teeth, eyebrows knitting on his forehead. He stayed completely still and held his breath, his eyes instantly snapping back to your face. And he prayed, he prayed so piously in silence that you wouldn’t wake up to see him hunched over you like a creep.

And his prayers were answered. You didn’t wake up, instead you just lightly squirmed and parted your thighs.

Jisung’s jaw dropped to the floor as his eyes fell lower on your frame again, only this time it was right on your center. The brunette couldn’t believe his eyes he couldn’t process. You were absolutely beautiful. Every inch of you, from head to toe, was perfection and he couldn’t help but to stare you down right between the legs.

But the uncomfortable feeling of his shorts restricting his hard on brought him back. There was no way he could just swipe the PJ’s now and go back. He couldn’t do it, whatever it was that he was trying to do in his room and failing miserably he had to do right here, right now. Why would he go back and imagine you when he could simply look at you?

With a shaky breath and trembling hands he whipped his painfully hard cock out. He didn’t even bother tugging down the shorts, only passing the member through one of the legs of the shorts.

He grabbed his dick at the base firmly and slowly pulled his closed fist up to his tip, pressing the precum out of the slit.

Fuckkkk

He wanted to say this outloud but he possibly couldn’t. He couldn't risk waking you up.

A large bead of precum rolled out of his slit and down his shaft which he caught between his fingers, picking up the pace.

He wanted to go slower; he wanted to take his time looking at you and milking himself for you. But he couldn’t. He was too riled up, looking at you peacefully sleeping, unsuspecting of what he was doing right over you. The adrenaline pumped through his veins as his fist did around his hard cock.

Jisung accelerated again, eyebrows meeting on his forehead as he felt himself inching closer to his release, he let out a barely audible grunt and immediately his eyes snapped up to your face which was still tranquil. He didn’t stop jacking himself off, soon the slick noises of his precum coated dick erupted but he couldn’t stop and you were so profoundly asleep that you seem like you didn’t notice the agitation around you.

Jisung felt himself twitch in his hand; he was so close. So close for you.

Y/n, I’m cumming for you

Jisung screamed in his mind only moments before he crossed the edge, his upper body shuddering from ecstasy as he tensed his thighs, big spurts of thick white cum squirting from his pulsing and throbbing cock as he let his jaw hang loose. Thick ropes of hot cum crashing all over your stomach, thighs and even between your parted legs lazily dripping over your folds.

He was so entranced by your nude body layed and spreaded out for him to see that he didn’t think about the mess he would create if he let himself go right here but it was too late now and the mess was done.

He fished out his phone from the pocket of his shorts. If he was already deep in it he might as well take a souvenir. He checked approximately two hundred times that his phone was on mute and that he didn’t have the flash on before snapping a few pictures of this breathtaking scene. Your body as his canvas and his warm cum as the art.

Jisung started to panic when you started to squirm again, stuffing the phone back in his pocket, he looked over the room in a hurry maybe hoping to find a rag of sorts but there was nothing and he just stood there with his lip between his teeth once again praying that he didn't wake you. But fortunately you settled down again.

So that's when he had the craziest but possibly most brilliant idea he’s ever had. The only way to thoroughly leave your room without leaving clues was to eat his own cum off you.

He thought about it for a second. If he used one of your clothes hanging on your chair, you would certainly notice the white stains later when you were going to do your laundry. If he took back the piece of clothing and washed it himself you would also notice your shirt disappear and magically reappear clean and folded…

So with this reasoning he kneeled on the floor at the edge of the bed and stuck his tongue out, inching closer to your stomach. He laid his tongue flat and swiped it across your burning skin, he scooped the thick and sticky cum right into his mouth. The strong bitter and salty taste took over his tastebuds. He then went down to clean his mess on your thighs and finally to your center.

He swiped his tongue across your folds. Much to his surprise -and contentment- he tasted something else blending with his own taste.

You.

He looked back for a second to notice the slight glimmering of your slick barely peaking between your folds. Jisung couldn't hold back from bringing his nose to your center, taking a big whiff of you.

So that’s what sex with you would smell like. He carefully licked again. That's how it would taste like. Both of your flavours and scents beautifully mixing to result in this intoxicating cocktail that was making Jisung’s head spin.

The addicting flavour spread through his mind like wildfire setting his soul ablaze. He licked again, this time a little less gentle and right on your clit.

And he froze when you let out a barely audible, very quiet little moan. Jisung felt his skin crawl back onto his flesh, the hairs of his forearms standing. He looked at you again, you were still sound asleep.

Was it possible that somehow you were feeling him between your thighs while you were still dreaming. Jisung didn’t know. The only thing that was certain to him was that he needed more of you. He licked again and he was rewarded by another moan followed by the brief mention of a word. A word he heard a thousand times hanging from your sweet lips. A word so mundanely banal. His name.

His name slipped out of your pretty mouth to crash onto him, hitting him right in the chest. His name said so perfectly.

“Jisung…aaah” you moaned softly, almost whimpering.

He froze again and carefully peeled his eyes off your center to look at your face. But you appeared to be still sleeping. So it meant you were dreaming of him. Your body felt good and your mind chose him to explain this feeling.

He couldn’t take it anymore he started to swirl his tongue around your clit. Everything was just too much. Your divine nude form layed on the bed, your smell, your taste and now your voice moaning his name.

Jisung didn't want this to ever stop. He started to move his tongue rapidly around your now swollen little bundle of nerves as he jerked off his cock again with both his hands. Rutting inside his fists like a street dog in heat as he feasted on your taste, lapping at your entrance and plunging his tongue inside of you to swipe his tongue back up to your swollen clit, sucking around the erected nub until you were breathless, pearls of sweat rolling on your forehead.

Jisung felt you throb on his tongue and suddenly your body tenses up, your head thrown back and you squirted all over his open and welcoming mouth. He relished on your cum, swallowing your release in big gulps as he made himself cum again with you, careful to only spill his seed in his hand this time around. Mind numbing euphoria coursing through his body from his lower stomach. He gently guided you through your orgasm, softly lapping at your throbbing clit until your body went limp.

***

Jisung started eating breakfast before you this morning. He couldn't help but smirk when you emerged from the hall with small groggy eyes.

“Hey sleepy head!” he greeted you with this signature adorable smile, his fluffy cheeks rising like bread dough. You responded by a sleepy groan.

“Actually I think I dreamt of you” You frowned trying to recall the blurry memories of the dream…

Jisung’s wholesome smile turned into a sly smirk as he attempted to hide it in his cereal bowl.

“Oh really?”

IF YOU ENJOYED DONT FORGET TO REBLOG 🖤

a/n: sooo how was it????? did you like it??? my first han fic and it broke me tbh. like im sucker for perv han i just love him okay? this blog is the official perv han lover support group <3

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#han smut #stray kids smut #jisung smut #skz smut #han jisung smut #kpop smut #han hard hours #han hard thoughts #jisung hard thoughts #jisung hard hours #sky jisung #jisung #han jisung #han stray kids #skz fanfic #straykids fanfic #han x reader #jisung x reader #perv!han

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amerricanartwork · 5 months

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RW Headcanon: How Arti Gives Back

In the RW community on this site, I’ve heard quite a few Artimand thoughts about how Gourmand would help Artificer heal from her trauma and grief. And while that’s all good, something that’s continuously puzzled me when shipping Artimand romantically is, “but how would Artificer help Gourmand?”

Let me tell you, one of my all-time favorite qualities in a ship is the characters helping each other improve themselves, especially in ways no other character pairing can. And while it’s easy to see Gourmand helping Artificer improve, given the vast amount of grief and lust for vengeance she has to overcome, and since Gourmand probably has a natural inclination to help others in need, what would she give to him in return? And to add to that, why would Gourmand fall in love with her and choose her as a mate, as opposed to just casually looking out for her and straight pitying her at worst, especially when she’d most-likely appear very un-qualified for romance initially?

Well, I’ve developed some thoughts and headcanons for that, and I’ll put them below the cut! Please let me know if anything could be improved, or if you can add to it! I’d love more reasons to think of these two sweethearts!

Option 1: Combat

Arti would help Gourmand improve his combat skills. The way I see it, Gourmand is a very strong warrior, but doesn’t often engage in combat simply because he doesn’t see a need for it outside of defense. Even then, due to his kind nature, he typically only fights back enough to deter predators, not kill them. However, with Arti being a carnivore, and having LOTS of experience with more complex combat situations than just defense (mostly from scav encounters), I like to think that Arti would give Gourm more combat tips and they may even end up bonding on occasional hunting trips together. And it would circle back to Arti because Gourm, with his cooking skills, would make the resulting meals from their hunts taste SO much better than what Arti is used to, allowing her to slow down and really enjoy food in a way she hasn’t been able to with her warrior lifestyle!

Option 2: Motherhood

This one’s pretty self-explanatory. Given Arti was a mother once, and Gourmand’s story ends with him getting 2 pups, I could easily see him wanting Arti to stay around to act as a mother for them. Not only would that give her the chance to embrace motherhood again, but it would take some pressure from Gourmand because he has a partner (and an experienced one at that) to help him with parenting! I mean, don’t get me wrong, Gourmand is undoubtedly great with pups, but even so it’s good to have some help! Even more so since (depending on what general age you headcanon the pups as) he’d likely have to leave his pups alone while getting food; it’d be nice to have someone with her own experience caring for pups who can look after them during those times and, to add onto the first option, even help teach them how to hunt and survive on their own!

And heck, I personally actually like to imagine that, a little later, after she gets comfortable enough and fully overcomes her grief, Artificer would actually have a second litter with Gourmand (naratively-speaking, this would signify the completion of her character arc)! Of course it’d be a big deal for Arti, but just imagine how much fun Gourm would have exploring the new experience of getting to raise biological pups this time! And I can just see him being so, so thankful that Arti somehow managed to give him even more family to love!

Option 3: Passion

So this one’s the most personal-headcanon-based, and built off my personal depiction of Gourmand as a character. In my headcanon, Gourmand starts out as a rather reluctant leader of his colony. I have this whole idea of what specific event led to him becoming the leader, but to summarize, it seemed like a very sudden chance event at the time, yet from it he was more-or-less unanimously chosen to lead by the other Outer Expanse slugcats due to him having shown great creativity, survival skills, and protectiveness. Gourmand himself, however, doesn’t really feel he’s fit to be a leader; he’s used to an easygoing life just peacefully surviving and doing his own thing, not managing and defending an entire colony! He’s so used to seeing the simple parts of the world that he often underestimates himself, so something as “grand” as leadership often appears too great for him.

That’s where Arti comes in. I like to imagine that Artificer is extremely passionate, but that for a long time after her pups’ deaths, that passion was manifested almost exclusively as immense rage, grief, and desire for revenge against their killers. But imagine if, once she gets comfortable with Gourmand’s colony, she begins to show that passion in positive emotions! Not only would she, after seeing what he’s capable of in hunts, help him see that he IS the perfect leader for his colony, but just IMAGINE: Arti hyping Gourm up as the biggest, strongest warrior in the Expanse, just before the two prepare to take down a king vulture; or Arti patching him up after a really tough battle and assuring him he’ll be even better next time; or Arti teasing Gourm and them chasing each other around as they spar together in the OE fields; or Arti getting all dramatic as she recites tales of her epic scavenger battles to his eager pups; or Arti showering Gourm with kisses after he makes a REALLY good meal with her favorite meats! There are SO many possibilities for hypeman Arti, and I figure that, once Gourm sees her fiery spirit used in a positive way, especially to help him and his family, he can’t help but fall for her! And this idea is part of why I like the Spicybun ship name so much - while Gourmand helps Arti mellow out, Arti literally spices up his life! They just compliment each other so perfectly!!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

MAN do I love these two so much! This is about all I have right now on this subject, but again, I’d LOVE to hear any other ideas for how Artificer would help Gourmand, or additions to these ideas! I just adore the “opposites attract” ship trope (although I personally prefer to call it “inverses attract”), and I think Artimand is easily one of the best examples of that in Rain World!

Thank you to anyone who made it to the end of this wall of text! And let me know if I should share any more Rain World headcanons, because I’ve definitely got more!

Oh, and if you've found this, @melissa-titanium, hope you like it again! Let me know if you ever want me to stop @-ing you with these Artimand headcanons, by the way!

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hisui-dreamer · 1 month

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ode to the protective aide

Pairing: Sebek Zigvolt x gn!reader

Synopsis: you were one of the few in his life who could see past his rough exterior

Tags: drabble, fluff, slightly poetic hehe, reader is a simp for sebek

Word count: 605

Notes: happy birthday sebek!! this grumpy crocodile guy really wormed his way into my heart haha (•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Masterlist

Your lover possesses a remarkable honesty that cuts through the veils of pretence and artifice with surgical precision. His words, though often delivered with the blunt force of a hammer, carry an authenticity that is both refreshing and intimidating. He doesn't sugarcoat his opinions or dance around the truth; instead, he lays bare his thoughts and feelings with a rawness that can leave others reeling in its wake. Whether he's heaping praise upon someone for their talents or delivering a harsh critique, you can always trust that your lover's words come from the depths of his heart, unfiltered and unapologetic.

Your lover harbours an unyielding disdain for the cold, a sentiment that becomes all too apparent in the subtle ways he seeks warmth and comfort. Though he may never openly admit it, you've noticed how he unconsciously gravitates towards you, seeking solace in the heat of your presence. Whether it's a casual brush of his arm against yours or the way he leans just a little closer during a chilly evening stroll, his subconscious need for warmth speaks volumes. You offer him the refuge he seeks each time without fail, enveloping him in your embrace and shielding him from the biting chill of the world outside.

Your lover possesses a curious tendency to wander through life with a certain air of obliviousness. Despite his sharp wit and fierce determination, there are moments when he seems to be operating on a different wavelength altogether. Whether it's getting swept up in the excitement of the moment or simply failing to grasp the subtleties of a situation, he has a knack for stumbling into the most absurd of predicaments. It's both exasperating and endearing to witness his frequent bouts of air headedness, but there's an undeniable certain charm to his innocence.

Your lover may exude confidence and pride in most aspects of his life, but when it comes to you, he is surprisingly easily flustered. Despite his fiery demeanour, his heart skips a beat at the mere mention of your name, and his usually loud voice softens to a barely audible whisper in your presence. You've seen the flush of colour that creeps into his cheeks when you compliment him, his words stumbling over each other as he struggles to articulate his gratitude. It's both amusing and endearing to watch him squirm under your gaze, his pride momentarily forgotten as he fumbles for the right words to express the depth of his affection. And in those moments, you can't help but feel a surge of love for the vulnerable, lovestruck man before you.

Your lover finds immense joy in providing for you, in being the pillar of strength upon which you can lean. Whether it's through grand gestures or small acts of kindness, he delights in seeing you smile, in knowing that he's the reason for the light in your eyes. He takes pride in ensuring your safety, standing as a fierce protector against any threat, real or imagined. In his arms, you feel sheltered from the storms of life, cocooned in a warmth that is both physical and emotional. For him, there is no greater pleasure than knowing that he can make you feel loved, cherished, and above all, safe.

Your lover is a whirlwind of contradictions, a puzzle with pieces that seem to defy logic. Yet, beneath the bravado and the bluster, there beats a heart that is fiercely loyal and unabashedly passionate. And in that, you find solace, knowing that despite his flaws, he loves you with a fervour that is as undeniable as it is intoxicating.

Your lover, is none other than Sebek Zigvolt.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #twisted wonderland sebek #twst sebek zigvolt #twst sebek zigvolt x reader #twst sebek #twst sebek x reader

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its-rat-time-babey · 1 year

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“The Artificer’s campaign has little impact on the overall story” bitch I cannot stress how much of an impact the Artificer had on the entire world. You just need to pay attention to some things.

By the time of the Artificer, Scavengers are basically in the middle of a massive golden age. They have a Chieftain (with a mark of communication (maybe Five Pebbles gave them the mark and citizen ID drone and tried to use them for something but they rebelled and found Metropolis)) with armour made from Red Centipede Scales, they have a permanent home in metropolis above the rain, they figured out how to harvest electrical scrap and broken down Rarefaction Cells from the ruins of Looks To The Moon and pieces of Five Pebbles to make electric spears and Singularity Bombs, they even have specially trained Elite Scavengers, which did exist before in the time of the Spearmaster but it’s still worth bringing them up.

Overall, Scavengers are at a golden age of invention and life in general.

And then they anger the Artificer, who slaughters countless Scavengers, kills their Chieftain and drives them out of Metropolis, locking the gate behind them.

After that, a new Chieftain is never made, armour like the chieftain once wore is never made again, Scavengers suffer a massive population loss, they can’t enter Metropolis without a Citizen ID Drone and Elite Scavengers slowly disappear as the methods used to teach them and the knowledge of how to scavenge and create electric spears and singularity bombs is lost, with the last Elite Scavengers being seen in the Hunter’s campaign, which happens next in the timeline. In other words, the Artificer literally sent Scavengers into a dark age.

It takes until the time of the SAINT for Scavengers to show real signs of recovery, now appearing in larger numbers than before. And even THEN Scavengers never do anything like they did during the time of the Artificer. The Artificer plunged Scavengers into a dark age for countless years, and they STILL haven’t recovered.

And that’s not all. According to the wiki, Scavengers are afraid of Slugpups, most likely because they remember how the last time they killed one they were hit by the full force of an angry explosive lobbing goddess of destruction that slaughtered countless members of their kind. They are afraid of Slugpups in all campaigns, even the Saint’s. So even by the time of the Saint Scavengers know not to mess with Slugpups, presumably because the last time they did so is a legend among Scavengers by that point in time.

Hell, the Artificer’s existence even explains something about the Hunter. The reason that the Hunter starts with a negative reputation among Scavengers is because they look like the fucking Artificer. Scavengers look at the Hunter and see the goddess of vengeance and destruction that they’ve only ever heard of from stories.

Both of them have red fur and a scar on one eye, and will the time gap between campaigns, there’s a good chance that only a few Scavengers that saw the Artificer in person are even alive by that point in time (without even taking into account how the Artificer murdered so many Scavengers that it’s probably rare that a Scavenger saw them and lived to tell the tale), meaning that the Artificer is probably told about in Scavenger stories and her appearance would therefore differ, leaving the most obvious details like the scar on one eye and red fur.

#rain world #rain world downpour #rain world spoilers #the artificer #scavengers #also a sort of crack headcanon:#The Artificer can’t just not ascend #they can’t become an echo or forcibly ascend either #we never see an Artificer echo in campaigns past her time #(notable because things like whether or not the Hunter ascended affects the campaigns that happen afterwards)#so my headcanon as to why that is is that the Artificer is so angry #so violent #and so utterly bound to the cycle #that instead of getting fully caught between existence and nonexistence and becoming an echo #she tips ever so slightly towards existence and ends up fully coming back from the void fluid #or at least her consciousness does #her body is understandably vaporized by the void fluid so she ends up reincarnating like a creature that died of old age #the Saint can’t forcibly ascend her either #and if they could it would take an absurd amount of karma blasts to do so #she’s just so angry that she does the impossible and keeps clawing her way back to existence #‘rip and tear until it is done’

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nostalgebraist · 2 months

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the light, and the glass

So there's this particular quality I have, as a fiction writer, and I have very little sense of how common or rare it is.

The quality is closely related to that famous Michaelangelo quip, about his sculptures being "already complete within the marble block":

The sculpture is already complete within the marble block, before I start my work. It is already there, I just have to chisel away the superfluous material.

This is how I feel, too, about my works of fiction. They feel like "real things" that "already exist," in some important sense, before I write them down -- or, indeed, before I even fully know what they contain.

So, for instance, if I haven't yet thought of an ending for a story I'm playing with in my mind, I nonetheless have a vivid sense that this particular story has an ending, and that this ending already is whatever it happens to be. It's only that I haven't managed to "see" it yet.

To clarify the point, consider the contrast between this thing, and two relatively familiar ways of thinking about how fiction gets made:

Conscious, goal-directed craft/artifice. Intending to write a Satisfying Plot in which each character has an Arc, the Story Beats follow logically from one another and are arranged with what is called Good Pacing, the proverbial Cat is Saved, etc., and "solving for" these desiderata in a conscious manner. Or, intending to create something much more outré and unsettling than all that -- but having some specific set of (outre, unsettling) intentions in mind, at the outset, and concocting/arranging the elements of your work in a conscious way guided by these intentions.

Free-wheeling, self-expressive "creativity." Just do whatever, man! Follow your bliss. The canvas is blank and anything is possible. Whatever you feel like putting into that empty space, go ahead and put it there. (The key thing being that, after "putting something there," you'll look and recognize something with origins in you, and your own whims and feelings at a particular moment.)

For me, though, the process of writing, and even of "ideating" (plotting, etc.), feels like a kind of transcription or channeling, as opposed to either of the above.

When I say "channeling," here, I don't mean that I have some actual, mystical belief in a supernatural object revealing itself through me. Not in the woo-woo sense anyway; whatever is really going on here, I am sure it "merely" involves the mechanics of the human mind, as implemented in the physical human brain and body.

But I do mean that it feels a lot like that. Like the story -- and not just the story part of the stories, but the whole thing, the "art object" -- has some real prior existence outside of me, first.

Like I am merely doing my best to "get it right," to be a perfect transmitter for the radio signal. To "do justice" to the "real thing," in the secondary act of writing words onto a page.

To be a courier who transports a valuable object from some originary otherworld into a place which happens to be called "existence" -- and to ensure, as much as possible, that it suffers no disfiguring scrapes during the journey.

----

I should say, though, that there's a lot of the "#1" above in my process too, the conscious-artifice thing.

Except... when I do that kind of thing, the intentions all come from the "real object," and my goal is to fill in whatever I can't see of that object so that everything I can see is preserved.

So: I will come to know, surely and indefeasibly, that the story must have some particular feature. (An event, a little moment, a character feeling a certain way at a certain time, even a specific turn of phrase.) Better to say: I know the story does have this feature. I see it in the marble.

But I can't see everything that's there, already, in the marble. And sometimes these glimpses-from-the-beyond are strange, inconvenient, difficult to "fit" into the current story (or perhaps into any story) in a natural-seeming manner.

And that's my task, when I'm doing the conscious-artifice thing: to take this collection of axiomatically-present glimpses, and build a structure around them into which they can "fit," naturally and even logically, just as if they were ordinary story-building-blocks like their neighbors, being placed here and there for ordinary story-reasons.

----

This has various implications. For one, it determines which kinds of writerly anxieties I suffer from, and which types leave me alone.

Like, I have virtually no self-doubt about my "ideas." About the overall, large-scale goodness-or-badness of the thing I'm creating. At least, not when considered "in principle," in an idealized sense that abstracts away from my actual capabilities as a guy who puts words on pages.

"Was this story, as a whole, a good idea?" is a question I find difficult to ask myself. Even when applied to smaller units, like specific plot points, this kind of question simply goes nowhere when I attempt to think about it. Insofar as my mind can cough up any answer, that answer looks like:

Yes

(after a moment, with mounting bewilderment) Yes, obviously -- how strange even to ask!

(after another moment, and as an afterthought) ...but if it weren't any good, is that really my business? It's not like I came up with it. I was asked to keep it safe and bring it into reality, and I take that duty seriously, but once it has reached its destination I wipe my hands of the matter. Don't shoot the messenger!

It's not, just, that I feel like the "real thing" "already exists." I also feel, always, that the real thing is... really good.

I deeply, thoroughly trust the Muse / Higher Power responsible for originally "making" this stuff. (To speak in relatively woo-woo terms, for ease and clarity.)

The Muse / Higher Power is a seriously skilled artist, much more so than little-old-me; if She makes any errors at all, they are not really mistakes, but "are volitional and are the portals of discovery."

And what's more, there is a sacred, unearthly gleam to the artifacts She makes, perhaps having something to do with that Fairyland, that place-other-than-"existence," in which they are originally made.

It feels like an honor to be designated as a courier for these enchanted things. Perhaps not a deserved honor -- on which more below -- but it's never the nature and value of the transported goods that I doubt.

(There is a definite sense of ritual to the thing that I do, here; a sense of connecting with some other place, definitively apart from our mundane here-and-now, and likewise more important/primary/etc. than the latter. Hence, perhaps, my tendency to not-write for long stretches, and then write in long sustained bursts for many hours at a time, which need a good deal of preliminary building-up-steam before they fully get going; it takes time to pierce, and then fully cross, the veil between worlds. And the various imprints of this stuff on the works themselves are not hard to see, once you're looking for them; they are of course especially transparent in TNC.)

All that being said, I do suffer persistently from a different anxiety.

When Michaelangelo said the thing about the sculpture "already complete within the marble block," he said it as... Michaelangelo.

As a famous, incontrovertibly masterful craftsman. Not a guy likely to suffer from doubts about his ability to put the chisel to the marble block, and reveal precisely that shape which was already there, inside.

But I'm not Michaelangelo. I'm not even sure I'm a good craftsman, much less a great one.

Certainly I've never conceived of myself in this way, even aspirationally. (Well, maybe I did in childhood and adolescence, but that was a very different thing from what I'm talking about now.)

I don't do what a person would do, if they wanted to be a Writer, and strove to be the best one they could. I don't, for the most part, practice my craft. I write because there's a Real Thing that only I can see, and it's not going to make into Existence any other way.

And since I don't write by habit or as practice -- since I only write at times when a Real Thing is in need of some incarnating-work, and I'm the only one around to do it -- I'm not exactly an ideal candidate for the job.

I am like a man who never especially wanted to be a sculptor, never practiced the trade, and was never more-than-ordinarily good with his hands, even... who is then, suddenly, struck with a very literal version of the experience Michaelangelo described.

Who, suddenly and inexplicably, begins to actually see a sculptural masterpiece lurking inside, whenever he looks at a faceless marble block.

What is our protagonist to do? Naturally, he will find a chisel, and begin chipping away. He will feel that these things need to be freed from their prisons, released and revealed to all the world, so that all the world can delight in them as he already does.

But he will be very aware of the unfamiliar way the chisel sits in his hand; of the way that hand trembles, and fails to meet the mark, and sometimes shaves off precious bits of what was really and originally a beautifully formed hand -- so that the hand, in the realized artwork, forever bears some oddity of shape which was not a part of what he saw inside the block, but only a consequence of his own shameful incompetence.

He will feel that his works, such as they are, are an odd mixture of amateurish craft and direct, divine inspiration. Insofar as he is Great, it will be because he has had Greatness thrust upon him, from without. He will feel, sometimes, that his successes have been obtained through a kind of cheating, not won fair-and-square.

And he will feel, always, a particular kind of (justified) impostor syndrome: an awareness that what he is doing, when he sits down before the marble block with the chisel in hand, is a very different sort of thing than what is usually called "sculpting," and what is being practiced by careful, hard-working aspirants just down the road, at the local workshop. The students there call themselves "sculptors," and our protagonist supposes he must call himself a "sculptor" too -- but he knows that behind this coincidence of language, a vast and strange chasm is hidden.

(I worry that this metaphor sounds flattering to me -- I am divinely inspired, they are merely toiling away and following the rules -- when I don't mean it that way at all.

In particular, note that there is nothing in our story to rule out some of the "real" sculptors down the road from also being visionaries who see the finished work in the block. Indeed, I got the metaphor from Michaelangelo, who was precisely this way.

I am only saying that all the conceivable configurations of craft/inspiration are in fact possible: just as it is possible to be skilled but uninspired, it's possible for inspiration to strike someone who lacks the capacity to fully realize its content. And that is how I feel, about my own attempts to create.)

----

When I was getting near the end of Almost Nowhere, and struggling with this kind of feeling, Esther would often reassure me by saying: "you are the light, and you are the glass it shines through."

In other words: you are a transmitter, and you are the source of the transmitted signal. Remember that in actual fact, the "real thing in the marble" came from your own little brain, just as much as the rest of it did. In actual fact, if there is a Muse and a Higher Power, it is really just an additional part of the same creature that holds the chisel, and worries over its trembling hand.

I did, indeed, find this very reassuring. And that's a funny thought, in a way! I imagine that for some people -- and indeed for me, in many other endeavours -- the same sentiment could easily have the opposite effect.

"It's all on you. It's all your responsibility. If any of it is bad, there's no one else to blame. If there is any 'Higher Power' at all, it is only the one inside you at all times, and not able to save you through unexpected intervention, from some true outside."

But I already believed, thoroughly, in the magical potency of the goods I was charged with transporting. If I was (somehow!) their maker, too, then (somehow!) the root of that glimpsed, alien magic was in me.

And so, perhaps, I could trust myself to ferry them into Existence without ruining, without even much dimming, the fairy-gleam from elsewhere that made them what they were.

#blah blah blah

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thisisnotthenerd · 3 months

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big themes that have emerged in fhjy so far:

unfairness

rage and violence and how it affects others

overwhelming responsibility and how it leads to outbursts

a bunch of common dnd arguments: milestone vs. XP, murderhobos vs. narrative engagement, etc.

in freshman year, the bad kids were dealing with a specific conspiracy that had been building for years. in sophomore year, they were still dealing with a years-long conspiracy with a side of personal connection to various villains (kristen-cassandra, riz-kalina, adaine-arianwen/angwyn, fabian-whitclaw/chungledown bim, fig-devils).

i think we're looking at a lawful vs. chaotic conflict this season. all of the bad kids run on the chaotic side (even riz and adaine), and none more so than kristen and fig, the two who are on the verge of expulsion and have had the most connections to a greater threat so far this season. there's been a strong emphasis on 'adventuring order' and the consequences of world-saving from the AAA side. from the outside, we've seen some major issues with deities (cassandra dying, galicaea's lida revival, sol & helio during the long night) and fiends (fig's hereditary curse, references to the armor of pride, lydia's rage-trapped devil).

i don't know if these are going to be separate threats--they may well be. but i think the big issue this time around isn't going to be as simple as a prophesied dragon escaping confinement or a nightmare deity being resurrected. we're looking at the consequences of killing your parents, making enemies through hubris, becoming an archdevil/saint/oracle/agent/his own darling man-boy/artificer, raising deities, pursuing your passions, and generally trying to find what's wrong and right it.

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #dimension 20 theory #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #fantasy high junior year #the bad kids #fig faeth #gorgug thistlespring #adaine abernant #fabian seacaster #kristen applebees #riz gukgak

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white-sinner · 11 months

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Seven brothers and their boyfriends. the second born Mammon and cupid male reader

Smut

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

how angels and demons tend to influence the choices of humans cupids are the representatives and protectors of love the simplest and purest they can see into the hearts of people or spirits so what will happen when two soul mates a cupid and a demon will meet?. one love not forbidden but certainly unusual

Mammon a demon who gets into trouble but is extremely sweet and really cares about the people he loves so much and you a cupid a spirit who can see into the hearts of souls literally the words to describe could be summed up as sweet, innocent and pure a perfect match

when Mammon was assigned as your protector and guide it was not exactly happy situation that change practically less than a day and he even if in his method he starts to woo you. you being a cupid you immediately felt that his feelings were pure and you too felt that there was a special connection between you two

Lucifer let's say he was half happy and half not on one hand he knew you were a great boyfriend and a great influence to his little brother but on the other he couldn't accept that his little brother got engaged to you so let's say the situation was not great but stable let's face it Mammon was his favorite and no one could deny it

Mammon really loves you a lot and tries to show it to you in as many ways as possible by showering you with gifts, always preparing sweets if Beel doesn't eat them first and other sweet ways even if you keep telling him that a hug and a kiss are enough for you, your ways are a somewhat different from courtship than that of demons or angels for example Mammon literally turns red when a cupid's rose appeared from your hands and you gave it to him or when one of your feather fell and you gave it to him telling him that when a cupid gives one's feather to a human or spirit and a gesture of love is of trust what happened next? well he fainted from the sweetness

the fact that by the way even though you were in a place you didn't know surrounded by demons trying to break you and your innocence made Mammon worry even more you were literally a helpless little puppy and he being your protector but more importantly your boyfriend protected you in every possible way

What about when you show up with a crown of red and orange flowers? Mammon literally think : you are too precious for this world

like every year however Valentine's day came and you being a cupid you had to come down to earth to help humans find their soul mate the day ended with you dead tired in your cupid form looking for mammon for some shells and he that he will carry you in his arms to his room passing his hand through your hair and wings

you two have never argued but the one time here you two ended up arguing and he made you cry… PANIC! he immediately ran to hug you apologizing and continuing to do everything to be forgiven he couldn't believe he had made his sweet prince cry and even if you had forgiven him he hadn't forgiven himself… LET ME HUG HIM NOW!

SMUT

Mammon would never force you to do anything against your will being that you only knew the sweet side of love so how did you come under him bhe.. Asmo

he thought you needed a little nudge so he put you in a waiter bunny suit and i'm calling mammon now it's true mammon was sweet and all but he had his moments too so finish it i'll take you prince style to his room and gently kiss you while he goes in and out of you after a full night of sweet sex you two end up with Mammon cuddling you in bed

during breakfast the brothers noticed the hickeys on your neck and knowing that Mammon would never have done such a thing without being instigated and you were too innocent they immediately understood the artificer and Asmo ended up tied up by Lucifer

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

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lafiametta · 18 days

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Like the way the theme of myth and story wove itself through the previous episode, this week's episode features the idea of loyalty, what it means, and what it costs.

John Blackthorne's loyalty is split between the men of the Erasmus, long held in Edo, and Toranaga, the lord who has made him his vassal and bannerman. Both still bind him at the beginning of the episode — he accompanies Toranaga's limping army to Edo, despite his bitter proclamation at the end of the previous episode that they're "all dead" — but by the mid-point those ties have begun to fray. Toranaga keeps him at arm's length, not offering him residence inside the castle, and his men, so long sought-after, have spent the past months drinking and whoring, and despise him for his ambition in sailing them to Japan. (Here Blackthorne claims loyalty once more; "we had orders" to cross the ocean, he tells his crewmate, although with less conviction than he normally offers.) With both recipients of his loyalty indicating that they care little for it, his sense of duty turns inward, as he thinks about how he might best serve himself.

That attempt leads him to Yabushige, who at times during their audience seems tempted by Blackthorne's offer of alliance. But the presence of Omi and Mariko are sufficient to remind him that to agree would be a betrayal of his oath to Toranaga. Mariko is offended enough to censure Blackthorne. "You see, once loyalty begins, it does not have an end. Otherwise it would not be loyalty," she tells him. "But loyal turns senseless very quickly when the order is suicide," he replies, which she takes as a personal rebuke.

In a way, he's right. Mariko's loyalty is blind; she will follow Toranaga's will, even if it means her own death. Perhaps maintaining that loyalty is easier for her, given that she already wants to die. (That desire, of course, comes from a sense of loyalty to her own father, a self-sacrificial duty she has carried for nearly fourteen years.) But her uncompromising loyalty does not extend universally: she is dutiful to Buntaro as a husband, keeping away from Blackthorne's bed and remaining silent when he asks if she is "still under the Anjin's spell," but disdainful of him as a man, rejecting his plan for the two of them to die together. Once broken, some ties can never be remade.

Other examples of loyalty appear throughout the episode. Ishido asks for Lady Ochiba's hand in marriage, but she hesitates, knowing that loyalty to him as a husband would mean something far weightier than loyalty to him as a political ally. Out of lordly duty, Toranaga keeps his promises to Gin and Father Alvito, granting them both land in his city of Edo. (Although, with a dash of brilliant irony, the plots are adjoining, putting the brothel next door to the church.)

But undoubtedly the greatest act of loyalty — one that is neither blind nor opportunistic — belongs to Hiromatsu. The only one who Toranaga trusts with the outline of his plan, Hiromatsu must playact at protest in front of the assembled retainers, but the sacrifice he makes to convince them of Toranaga's determination to surrender is viscerally real. The words they volley back and forth speak of loyalty and duty ("Lord! Your vassal dies in vain!"), but it is the last thing Hiromatsu says to his friend — "Then this is farewell" — that is spoken without a hint of artifice. The retainers' initial frustration — how do you remain loyal to someone who has seemingly abandoned their responsibility to you and to themselves? — soon turns to horror in the face of what is being acted out in front of them, all part of Toranaga's larger plan. And Toranaga can only watch as Hiromatsu disembowels himself, even as he understands the necessity of the act. As he tells Mariko later, "Hiromatsu, my old friend, knew his duty well."

As for Toranaga, his true loyalties — like his secret, third heart — have not always been easy to discern. But by the end of this episode, it is clear that he remains loyal to the memories of his son and his friend. Their sacrifices, like their continued belief in him, will not have been in vain.

#shōgun #shogun #shogun 2024 #shogun fx #fx shogun #shogun spoilers #1x08 #john blackthorne #kashigi yabushige #toda mariko #toda hiromatsu #yoshii toranaga #meta

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taki-yaki · 2 months

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Domestic In The Underdark Headcanons

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav/Durge

Despite the dangers that people preach about the Underdark, you and Astarion try to make it feel like home.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! Got this out in time for the day of love. It's not quite Valentine's centric but I hope everyone enjoys it either way.

Despite the Underdark being known as the most dangerous place to live in, you and Astarion try to make it feel like home.

After finding some of the freed vampire spawn, you take up residency in an old abandoned fortress in the Underdark. It’s no grand mansion in the upper city, but you hire some artificers who are paid a little extra to keep quiet about the whole spawn situation, as well as them being able to help out fellow heroes of Baldurs Gate.

You and Astarion have a home specially made for the two of you, based on the houses in the city, as well as the spawn having homes for themselves.

When it comes to decorating the house, Astarion was mainly in charge of wallpaper and furniture choices for the home, but would also take in your inputs as well.

However, the main issue with all vampires when it comes to personal homes is the forbiddance rule they must follow, in which they must receive an invitation to enter the home, so a little hanging sign is made saying Astarion & Tav’s home which sits outside the door.

When it comes to cooking, Astarion would make an effort to learn how to, mainly for your sake if you can’t cook at all. Of course, the first few dishes may be a bit too burnt or too salty, but you can’t blame him, he hasn’t needed to eat food in over 200 years.

“What do you mean it’s too salty for you? Well, I just kept adding salt until I could taste it”

The two of you would also take trips to the surface, via a portal setup that Gale was kind enough to arrange for you both. Visiting nearby night markets that local villages provide.

When it comes to clothing, he would embroider small messages into them whilst patching up any loose holes. Additionally, when attending parties or balls, he ensures that you wear the best outfit, during the preparations for Wither’s reunion party, he ended up spending so much time decorating your outfit, that he had to grab one of his old shirts and quickly patch it up.

He would also write small messages on your work clothes/armour for you to read while you are both apart from each other for the day, managing tasks.

During the evenings you would share each other's shirts and Astarion would always make a fuss over it “Honestly darling, it’s an honour to be wearing one of my handcrafted shirts.”

He does enjoy seeing you wearing his shirts though.

Since Elves only need around 4 hours of rest through trance, Astarion would sometimes wait for you to wake up by reading a book whilst watching you nearby. If you are an Elf or Drow, he would try to wake up before you regardless.

During the evenings, you would both cuddle together, either reading books out loud to one another or listening to each other ranting about how your day has been, from managing wayward spawn to taking out some drow raiders.

You both would bathe together, as a form of non-sexual intimacy, trying out the different scented oils that you’ve purchased from the market.

You would gift Astarion flowers that you collect from the surface, although he does find them a little gaudy, he enjoys having them as the colours remind him of being in the sun.

Astarion would try to return the favour by gifting you flowers, but only ones that would be useful for making into poisons and lists what each one is and its function.

”See if you take the petals from this one then crush and burn them, you can make a quick deadly toxin, but I think they look nice like this as well.”

Of course, when these flowers started to dry up, he would press them between books to persevere them.

Despite all the horrors of the Underdark and the gurgling task of managing over 7000 spawn. You are both able to make a place to call home.

#astarion x tav #astarion x durge #astarion x dark urge #astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion headcanons #headcanons #This one was fun to write but it'll go in hand with the “Life with 7000 + 7 Vampire Spawn Headcanons” next #better get started on reading more Underdark material

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sandboxer · 4 months

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The Evolution of Edgeworth’s Color Palette

Throughout the original AA trilogy, Edgeworth undergoes significant changes not only in his character, but in his design as well. I’m ridiculously interested in the way these tweaks to his design (especially the colors he wears) exemplify the emotional changes he experiences and his relationships with other characters.

(1) The class trial is the earliest we see Edgeworth. He wears a bowtie in his father’s signature deep red. We also see at this point that Phoenix wears blue. This deep red and mellow blue are their most basic colors, respectively.

(2) After the class trial, Edgeworth and Phoenix have become friends. And their newfound friendship is reflected in their clothing changes: Edgeworth incorporates a bit of Phoenix’s blue in his bowtie; Phoenix incorporates a bit of Edgeworth’s red in his sleeves. Both retain their own basic colors, though, keeping the bits of each other that they steal as minor details. Phoenix still wears signal blue on his shirt, and Edgeworth wears a red sweater.

(3) The next time we see Edgeworth is during the Bratworth era, and I find this the most interesting period of time design-wise. The theme here is FRAUD, both in character and design. Much like his style of prosecuting at the time, his design is meant to attract attention, but it is symbolically hollow. His suit is a pure, bright red, a far cry from the mellower tones of his fathers’ tie. His waistcoat, too, is blue, but a far brighter and greener shade than Phoenix’s. It is a rejection of their friendship and the justice Phoenix embodies. In fact, the shade of his waistcoat is closest to the jewel around MVK’s neck. His entire design reeks of MVK—the cravat, the gold details on his waistcoat, the embellished lapels, the high black collar. Though at first glance he may have seemed to retain the red-and-blue of his childhood, it’s only a poor replica, twisted into something devoid of true meaning by the hands of von Karma.

(4) And then we come to the trilogy, where we see Edgeworth in his (comparatively sensible) maroon suit and cravat. He’s toned down the artifice and returned in a meaningful way to the symbolism of his childhood design. The bright red of his Bratworth suit has been 1) dulled and 2) shifted further toward blue on the color wheel. This color is much closer to the deep tones of his father’s tie. And this time, instead of relegating his care for Phoenix to an accessory like a bowtie, he’s tinted his entire suit. It’s a symbolic decision for him to keep the cravat he adopted under MVK’s tutelage, as well. Not only does it serve as a reminder of his growth as a prosecutor, but it also recontextualizes the essential image of von Karma (his neckwear) into something good and just with each case Edgeworth takes on under his adjusted mindset.

It’s worth noting, too, that Phoenix’s tie since his debut as an attorney is red, but a much pinker red than is often acknowledged. In my mind, this ties him specifically to the trilogy era Edgeworth, rather than the bright, pure red of Bratworth or the deep red of Edgeworth’s childhood.

Not included in the image above is Chiefworth, as I do think much of his design is similar to his trilogy design, albeit slightly more refined. But it would be remiss not to acknowledge his glasses during that era, bringing him even closer to the image of his father.

#c thinks #miles edgeworth #ace attorney

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the-paper-monkey · 11 months

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When writing child Tom Riddle, what do you consider to be important notes/key elements/aspects to keep in mind? I really struggle with writing child Tom Riddle because there is only one scene we get from him as a young adult. I adore your characterisation of Tom

Even though we don't get to spend much time with child Tom, I do think that scene tells us a fair bit about his character. I would say it's even better character material than the memories we have of his teenage years, as this scene with Dumbledore shows us a Tom that isn't very good at masking yet.

One of the most important takeaways regarding little Tom, as outlined in this brilliant post, is his speech patterns. Tom at eleven is not sophisticated. He doesn’t speak like a precocious governess-tutored pureblood child. He’s blunt and direct, speaks without artifice and has little awareness or care for politeness or hierarchy. He interrupts Dumbledore repeatedly during their short conversation, even after being reprimanded for his manners and conduct.

Since we know that the author doesn’t, um, shy away from writing out accents in dialogue, I think it’s fair to say he isn’t as ‘full Cockney’ as perhaps many of his peers, but Tom still has the manners of a street urchin and does not give a fuck. Tom is a child who is used to commanding respect from both his peers and the adult Muggles in his life. Dumbledore neither being intimidated nor capitulating to his demands makes Tom uneasy. He doesn’t feel safe around people who aren’t frightened of him.

Tom doesn't know how to handle a world where he isn't the top dog. He's learning, undoubtedly, and practising his future model student persona, but he isn't very good at it yet. It doesn't come naturally to him, and he's clumsy with it. To me, that's one of the things that makes eleven-year-old Tom so endearing.

Another thing that is clear with a child Tom but not a teenage Tom, is his high level of emotional volatility. He’s far from the creepy, distant child that we see in the HBP film. Book Tom oscillates from one emotion to the next fast enough to give any reader whiplash. He swings from distrust, to fury, to wild joy, to politeness, to fear, then finally withdraws to a shrewd, calculating distance—all within his brief conversation with Dumbledore. I do think it’s important to recognise that Tom has never been fearless; after all, he destroys himself precisely in response to an all-consuming obsession with those fears. We already see a preoccupation with death, his mother’s death in particular, and a belief that his magic will save him from a similar fate.

But what Tom isn't is a coward. When faced with a person or problem that frightens him, he addresses this head-on at first and tries to brute force his way through it, either through aggression or violence. Only when that doesn't work does he draw back and begin to think strategically, attempting to charm and ingratiate himself. As a teenager we see that he learns that the second strategy is going to work best for him, but it isn't really in his nature. By adulthood, he has reverted to form. In many ways Tom at eleven is closer to Voldemort in behaviour than Tom at sixteen.

Also, side note: while I was rereading this scene for the post I noticed that Tom actually believes his father is dead. When he asks Dumbledore about him, he doesn’t ask if his father is a wizard, he asks if he was a wizard. At this age, it hasn’t yet occurred to Tom that his father might still be living, just with no interest in finding his son.

#possibly it doesn't occur to him until Morfin tells him at sixteen #tom riddle #asks #anon #i want to squish his cheeks #feral baby #papermonkey meta

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hydropyro · 2 months

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30 Minute Rant Incoming:

In this post I transcribe my 30 minute rant that I sent originally to @firlionemoontav (with parts of my freaking out cut out of it). Thoughts? Information? Your own of the wall ideas? Please share them.

"We know that [Raphael's] brother, Magadon, was able to withstand the energy put out by the Mythallars which are quasi-sentient magic orb things that are connected directly to the Weave. It's very likely that the Netherstones are pieces of Mythallar. I can't confirm that -- but I'm willing to bet that this is the case.

"We know that Magadon Kest, a cambion son of Mephistopheles, was able to connect himself to the Mythallars and control them to some extent. He was being forced to build an army for Shar a long time ago, ~118 Years before the events of Baldur's Gate 3. And then again ~8 Years before Baldur's Gate 3 when he connected himself to a Mythallar and dropped one of the new Netherese cities onto the prince that was trying to rebuild the Netherese empire under Shar's name. He connected to the Mythallar and disconnected the magic for a little bit so that the city would fall on top of the prince.

"We know that cambions, at least, or cambion sons of Mephistopheles, can definitely wield Mythallaric power, meaning that in order to do that Raphael would probably still need to be a cambion, meaning that he would still need his mortal soul.

"But, there was another person that [Raphael] brought to the House of Hope at the same time, or in the same year, as he did Blackcloak -- who is the one that is known for being incredibly good with life magic. For example:

"There's a spell called 'Clone' where if you die, your soul moves into the Clone, and then you continue living. Usually you have One Clone at a time -- when you die, you move into the Clone.

"At one point Blackcloak had something like 40 Clones. And then, during the Second Sundering (something to do with Cyric and Mystra. It has nothing to do with Raphael, so I haven't looked into it any further. I am solely Raphael focused), when magic failed, he was unable to resurrect. All of his Clones 'woke up' and just went about there way -- so there are some 40 versions of Blackcloak alive.

"Not only is Blackcloak able to make several active Clones of himself, but those Clones don't have to be copies of himself. He can make Clones that are different Races and Sexes entirely. He is that good with magic. He is mortal, and he is like 4,000 years old just because he is that good with magic.

"Anyway, that's not who I was talking about. I was talking about the other lady who came into the House of Hope. I haven't looked into her as much. Sylvira Savikas. She's part of the 'Descent into Avernus' campaign.

"She is an artificer, I believe, and her specialty is puzzle boxes and different universes. (I think the puzzle boxes may be able to hold universes in them). Kind of like the Astral Prism. The one that Raphael made the hammer specifically for. How would he have known about the Hammer? Why would he have brought her in if he didn't need to know about the Astral Prism?

"Now, perhaps he also needed to know about someplace to keep his mortal soul (as he would have had to rid himself a long time ago in order to ascend) but I imagine that was a long time ago.

"Because when we consider: Yes, he's Mephistopheles's son. Mephistopheles has many children, very few of them are important. Antilia is important, but she's not even openly accepted as being his child. Magadon wasn't important. He went on and lived his life as a tavern owner on the Material Plane so he wasn't important. There's no reason why being 'Mephistopheles' son' would make Raphael particularly important to anyone.

"So, when we take that into account, the fact that Raphael was able to make a contract with Yurgir, an Orthon (which is essentially third in the hierarchy system of Baator). Yurgir is a powerful, powerful devil, and he is afraid of Raphael? He is beholden to a contract with Raphael? He is afraid that by breaking his contract with Raphael and killing him his reputation will be tarnished? Eh -- it's unlikely Raphael made the deal as a cambion. He's probably been very powerful fora very long time.

"How does the Crown come into it? Well, we have to consider that he contracted Yurgir to get rid of the Dark Justiciar Army growing under Reithwyn at the behest of Ketheric Thorm's Mason, The Infernal Mason, who built Moonrise Towers. And he did. He fulfilled that contract, sent Yurgir and Yurgir's army of merrigons, destroyed all Dark Justiciars except one.

"One remained. One that Raphael hid as an army of rats. Now, why would he do that? I don't think he did it because he has a beef with Yurgir. I don't think he cares about Yurgir at all. Now, he knows Yurgir is going to be pissed because he did that, but that's not why he did it.

"He did it because he knew that he was going to need Ketheric Thorm in the future. In order to have Ketheric Thorm in the future, Ketheric would have to be immortal. In order to ensure that Ketheric remained immortal he had to ensure that no one could get in to Shar's Guantlet. What is the best way to ensure that no one could into Shar's Gauntlet to find and free the Nightsong -- which is feeding Ketheric Thorm's immortality?

"Stick an Orthon there. Nothing's gonna get past a fuckin' Orthon. Right? It had nothing to do with Yurgir. Yurgir is the body guard for his asset's asset.

"So yes, he knew about Nightsong and he put Yurgir there on purpose so that he would have unfettered access to Nightsong. If he decided that he needed to get to Nightsong to either kill her or free her he had a Dark Justiciar ready and waiting to be re-stuck-back-together into a man to go and do whatever he wanted him to do.

"But, as long as he didn't want anyone to go in there, he had an Orthon who was contractually bound to destroy anything that went in.

"Onto the next part. So we have Ketheric. We see how he fits in with Ketheric Thorm. We know how he fits in with Gortash. But -- if he wants us to kill him, obviously the Crown is not his main goal. If we do kill him as he is subliminally pushing us to do, he can't have the Crown, at least not immediately. He may get the Crown afterward, but there's always a chance that someone else is gong to get it. (Like Gale, you fool). Mephistopheles is going to want the Crown back.

"But, consider that he waited for just the right time -- for his brother's friends to also raid Mephistopheles's vault. I wonder if (obviously not when the book was written, the book was written in the 90s) they've retconned the lore if Raphael had something to do with Drasek Riven finding Vasson Cale when he did and going to raid Mephistopheles's vault to free Eravis Cale when he did.

"Because Mephistopheles is not only dealing with the Crown having been stolen. At this exact same time, the events of Baldur's Gate 3 is going on, Magadon Kest's friends broke into Mephistar to steal Eravis Cale who was trapped there in order to get back the divinity of a god. Mask, the God of Thieves. So Mephistopheles lost this fount of divinity that he had around the same time that Gortash broke in and took the Crown.

"Mephistopheles cannot wield the Crown. Gods cannot wield the Crown. No one except cambions for some reason can wield the Crown. So, what is he going to go after? Would Mephistopheles put in the energy to find the Crown, or is he going to go after the divinity that was also stolen from him? I imagine he would go after the divinity -- a god's power that he can actually use.

"Now, if Raphael doesn't actually want the Crown (I mean, the Crown would be nice to have if he could get it -- I'm sure he could get the Crown, off himself, be resurrected, or whatever happens) The Crown is a distraction, is what I'm saying. The Crown is not the most important part of this plan and I cannot for the life of me figure out what is.

"The Crown doesn't make sense, because if Gale gets the Crown Raphael is like 'Ah, I was mad, but now I'm just fine with it'? No, he never cared about the Crown. He actually is fine with Gale having the Crown, because Gale having the Crown creates mortals with ambition -- ambition is what destroyed Netheril because Karsus was ambitious. Gale being the God of Ambition is going to create more Karsuses. And, what does Raphael deal in? He doesn't deal in heroics -- he deals in Ambition. He gives people their ambitions.

"Gale being the God of Ambition is the perfect situation for somebody like Raphael. So he doesn't give a flying fuck about the Crown.

"But I can't figure out how he benefits from dying. He must benefit. It has to be some mechanic that I'm not aware of and don't know the proper terms to research. I don't know what I'm looking for, so I don't know where to look."

There

#baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #raphael #simpathyforthedevil #raphael bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #theorycrafting #theory #rant #i'm losing my mind #bg3 brainrot

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pansear-doodles · 11 months

Text

Anthro Survivor's Art Fight Profile is out now with a detailed biography. :)

I plan to push out one slugcat bio per day as I work on them.

If you don't have an Art Fight account but wish to see their description...

Name: Survivor (Survy, Surv) Pronouns: Any/All Likes: Relaxed and comfortable spaces, Hats, Video Games, Adventuring, Hanging out with friends Dislikes: Being put in stressful situations, Feeling cornered, Cold temperatures, Failing, Being treated as small

History: They grew up in the Outer Expanse along with their sibling Monk- being raised by their parents who taught them the basics of survivability. Through their guidance and protective efforts, their life was overall rather peaceful until one fateful night where the harsh rain poured during one of their familial expeditions. Survivor was separated from their family, falling from a slippery bridge and being swept away from a flash flood. They were lost, scared, wounded and was left alone to fend for themself in the great unknown. Survivor's lost days were times of their hardship and lots of learning in the many instances where he fell and nearly died. Their efforts of traversing back to the Outer Expanse lead them to discover that their family was long gone, but they were found by Hunter who guided them to a newfound trust and friendship along with Artificer and Gourmand. They went on a search to find Survivor's family, all the while the two reddish slugcats teach Survivor their forms of combat. Eventually Survivor finds Monk, who was looking for them the whole time and was also accompanied by other slugcats. Altogether, they created a friend group, who closely looked after each other as if they were their own colony.

Personality: Despite their traumatic history, Survivor overall is relaxed (or at least always seems to be when things go as planned). Pretty much the "everything goes" type of person, though they care deeply about their friends and Monk. They can adapt to a lot of situations and is able to do a variety of things amateurly, however they've mastered none of these talents. They would often pitch in fun activities that range from a lot of effort to little effort at all- anything that has a sort of safety measurement. Survivor likes having mindless conversations and having little worry for themselves, even if for a moment. At the edge, they get alert and emotionally-charged. They are very protective and naiive about their own strength and they can go out of their way to fight something who hurt their loved ones even if that something can easily punch them back. They can get desperate and senseless if their plans go wrong, but no matter what- Survivor always makes sure they can make out of things alive even if it winds up hurting themself in the process. ... As long as you don't pit them in a stressful situation, Survivor would remain chill.

Biology: Survivor's talents are spread, though they are a master of none. They know how to fight, program, cook, etc... But they're not quite the best of any of them. They're very average.

Appearance: Survivor is a pure white slugcat with an average bodytype but has visible scars throughout their body. There is one notably on their head, stitched up. They often wear a hat to cover it. They have scars on the tip of their ears and across their face beneath their eyes, and scars on their tail as well. Survivor has dark blue gray eyes with white pupils. They have two round medium-sized ears and a medium-sized snout. They enjoy wearing chill outfits where there is always a hat (usually a beanie). They are a young adult.

Relationships: Nightcat - Likes/Best Friends - Survivor is best friends with Nightcat ever since they actually spoke to each other for the first time in the colony. The two are so close that they developed a soft crush on one another, unsure if they can go through with it due to their shyness. Monk - Family - Survivor is quite protective of Monk, who is their only remaining family member in contact with. Though they find their own shenanigans concerning, they aren't controlling of it. Hunter - Friends - They see them as a parental figure of sorts- makes sense as they are their mentor, but overall they are good friends. Artificer - Friends - They also look up to them as a parental figure and a mentor. Gourmand - Friends - Acquainted at first in their early days of being in the colony and later became friends after spending a good amount of time with them. Rivulet - Friends - A "gamer pal" of sorts, interested in their pile of the shenanigans but is overall reserved about it. Spearmaster - Friends - A good friend and a good listener to their woes. Saint - Neutral - They are a bit wary of Saint, but trusts them with Monk as they seem to be fine with them. Enot - Neutral - Quite annoyed by them, but doesn't hate them.

#my anthro au #art fight #fanart #rain world #rainworld #slugcat #rainworld downpour #rain world downpour #dp spoilers #downpour spoilers #survivor #my art

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