#wonderful art. so that when you get to their level (and bEAT THEM AT ART!) something totally normal to want and possible to achieve :)

[thesapphiredragon13]

Just a reminder to new artists or anyone feeling down about their art not looking as good as other artists: This is barely two years apart, you’re really not as far away from progress as you think!

#Keep going and keep taking inspiration from other artists #see their styles as a benchmark to strive towards instead of something to be disheartened by. #I believe in you!! #(ﾉ>ω<)ﾉ :｡･:*:･ﾟ’★｡･:*:♪･ﾟ’☆ #and when I tell you it didn’t matter what motivates you to strive and improve know I really mean it #my art improvement has been powered by jealousy and pride #and spite #it’s ok to see another artist and your first thoughts be “’duck you for being better than me #I’m gonna be better than you. I’m gonna do it #fucking watch me!’ #and then hype that artist up and sing their praises so that they can continue to make their infuriating #wonderful art. so that when you get to their level (and bEAT THEM AT ART!) something totally normal to want and possible to achieve :) #you can know that you did it while that artist was at their very best. #a victory is only a victory if your opponent is at their best after all. #art #drawing #artwork #bunny deku #midoriya izuku #bnha #Deku

[kotias]

Ineffable Rockstars

Time to properly become creatively feral about the Ineffable Rockstars project with @vavoom-sorted-art, @searchingforakeythatdoesntexist , @daneecastle, @moonyinpisces and Stitcherydoo!

Summary of the story: human!AU, Crowley and Aziraphale are rockstars in their respective groups, Celestial Harmonies and Hell's Rebuke. Word is out that those two groups have bad history together, and therefore the two of them, while shamelessly talking to each other any festival they get to meet at, do have to be careful about being seen together by their own bands.

Summary of this excerpt: Aziraphale explains the story of the two bands to Crowley, who has arrived after everything went down and was kept in the dark by his mates.

Lyrics: written for the purpose of this fic.

Word count of the excerpt: 872 words

Excerpt:

Crowley sat down next to Aziraphale, whose eyes laid probably a second too long on those long fingers, on this chest showing so proudly from behind his open shirt- He coughed and drank a large gulp from the flute, clutching at the glass like a lifeline.

“It’s- it’s alright. Are you feeling comfortable? How was the concert?”

“Hah, acting like I didn’t see you in the audience, are ya?” Crowley asked with a smirk, and Aziraphale looked away, feeling the heat building up on his face.

“Well, we do need to keep it silent, don’t we?” he answered nonetheless with a coy smile, sipping on his drink.

“Why, though? It’s completely beyond me; Bee recruited me right after the split between Celestial Harmonies and Hell’s Rebuke, but there’s always been… you know, a feeling that it didn’t happen for no reason.”

“They haven’t explained it to you?” Crowley shook his head, and Aziraphale sighed. “No wonder you’re lost. Well, to put it simply… Hell’s Rebuke’s members were part of Celestial Harmonies, a few years ago.”

“Yes, I know that-”

“Let me talk, please; I would like to make sure we work with the same information.”

As he began explaining the official history of the two bands, he was cut by a thunder of clapping as the concert was coming to an end, and he and his counterpart felt compelled to stand up and join the applause.

When you reached Summer,

You lost sight of the star lights,

Questions died in your throat,

Cursing a future that is naught

And the night falling upon you

Left you laying awake with open eyes.

After two encore songs and enough clapping to make their hands and wrists sore, Crowley and Aziraphale walked towards another scene and stayed in relative distance, ensuring that they would hear each other. “So, you were saying, Hell’s Rebuke and Celestial Harmonies.”

“Ah! Yes; so, this is fairly public knowledge.” Crowley nodded impatiently. “At least, it is not something that we are actively hiding, neither of the two groups; somebody who knows how to Google us would be able to find this information.” Aziraphale frowned, crossing his arms. “Honestly, that is why it concerns me a little that you have not been informed of this; it is a fairly common question that people are trying out on us, asking about the other group to see how we react. Anyways-”

The vendors just a few metres from them had started cooking a few crepes, and Crowley did not miss the eyes darting towards them. “Want some? C’me on, it’s my treat,” he insisted as Aziraphale’s eyebrows raised -and it was obvious that he wasn’t going to refuse such an offer.

“Well, if you insist,” he answered, the corners of his lips curling up and his eyelashes fluttering; Crowley’s heart missed a beat, his fingers pressed against his flute, and he barely managed to keep a groan from reaching out of his mouth.

“You do have to tell me more, though; ‘specially if you think my ignorance could bite me in the ass.”

“Yes, of course.” Aziraphale’s voice dropped as they reached the line, keeping it to the level of a private conversation. “Bee and Gabriel were… an item.”

“Oh, excellent start. If that’s only the beginning, I might have to stock up on popcorn with that crepe of yours.”

“Heh, well, it might be one of the more interesting aspects of this entire story, so do not keep your expectations too high.”

“No, no, don't kill my hopes, now. Go on, tell me everything, I’m sure it will be full of riveting details, Bee’s never been good at keeping things tidy anyways.”

Aziraphale groaned. “Oh, you should see Gabriel when he gets involved… Ah- one crepe with sugar, thank you,” he said with a bright smile to the vendor. “Alright, so- long story short, the band was originally founded by the two of them; excellent musicians those two are, and the band did have quite the promising future before it. We started having a fairly good reputation.”

“Black coffee and a serving of fries. The name’s been around for a while now, that’s right- I remember seeing it ten years ago on some festival announcements in my city. Cash, thanks.”

“We have, yes. We were very local for a long while, but…”

“What changed?”

“Gabriel and the others were wishing to go professional; Bee and who are now Hell’s Rebuke were not willing to do that.”

“Ah, I see. Well, they didn't change much in that aspect,” Crowley mumbled sourly, extending his arms to grab the crepe and coffee. He gave the dessert over, then took his serving of fries, and they left the vendor’s stand. “Wait, where did you stand? You stayed with Celestial Harmonies, after all.”

“Hm, well…”

That did not sound like somebody who was fully happy to have stayed, Crowley thought, and he crept closer to Aziraphale, nudging him with his elbow. “Come on, spill the beans! Honestly, I’m looking to go in that direction, if there’s anything I should be aware of…”

“Being professional was, and still is, something that I hold dear,” Aziraphale explained, his slow speech feeling heavy, like he was choosing every word carefully.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable rockstars #human AU #fanfiction

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

YOUR HIGHNESS I HAVE A REQUEST FOR YOU. 💍 not much of request, more of a suggestion if you ever feel like writing it, what about a necromancer yandere? or a mortician?!! OOOOUGHH im so obsessed with necromancers and everything related to them, and there's só many options!!! trying to realive darling reader? put me in! necromancer went to get body parts but when they were doing research they fell in love with one of the people they were getting body parts from, now they want to realive them! DELICIOUS!! killing unwilling reader and bringing them back as a form of punishment! IM ON! i give you full creative control thy humble lord, thank you for the food

(and of course, feel free to deny, YOU are the artist, you are what matters ❤)

Yeah, I can do this

Yandere!Necromancer x GN!Reader

CW: Mentions of death and corpses, both human and animal

The most powerful bastard to have ever lived.

The unspeakable horror known as Letum the Terrible, a powerful sorcerer that seemed to draw magic from the universe without any limitations; a bottomless pool of stamina who could wipe out armies with a snap of their fingers.

Or, as Nephin knew them, (Reader).

He still remembered the first time he met (Reader), when they were a young teenager and he was just a child. What the pitiful town's people called power hungry and malicious, Nephin understood to be ambitious and determined. Even at the age of five, the small boy could see how the people never broke (Reader's) spirit; how every time they publicly beat them out of fear, or accused them openly of evil and conspiring with dark forces, (Reader's) resolve strengthened.

Unlike wizards, who had to learn the ancient arts and memorize countless spells, or mages who had to use magickally imbued artifacts and books written by magick users of the past, the terrifying teenager was a sorcerer, who's power was instinct and perfected by trial and error experimentation.

Nephin craved the user's attention.

He studied so diligently, begging the universe to give him access to the energy of the universe or to grant him his own supply of natural mana.

The rest of the town was so focused on being afraid of (Reader), that no one but Nephin noticed their one and only flaw. (Reader) could not heal themselves.

Less than a month before the human known as (Reader) would seemingly fall off the face of the earth, they had changed the course of the little love sick child's life forever, after an encounter hidden deep in the woods.

Nephin cradled a bleeding rabbit, focusing on a simple healing spell, chanting it over and over again while rocking on his little heels, screaming in his heart for the universe to awaken his healing power. But the rabbit continued to bleed out over his shirt.

"Hel, oh breathing earth, this broken body. Hel, oh breathing earth, this broken body. Hel-"

The small little black rabbit went limp in Nephin's arms, releasing her last breath. Tears tumbled down out of frustration.

"No. No. No!" He whined, gripping the body against his chest harder. "Wake up! Wake up!"

A warm green light bubbled up from the earth like liquid, rising into the air around Nephin and the rabbit. It was working. "Wake up! Wake up!"

The rabbit stirred to life, moving within his grasp, without breathing.

Joy filled Nephin, believing himself to have finally achieved the power to heal, when he realized that the wound on the bunny never closed, and blood was still dripping from the gash.

He didn't have much time to wonder what was happening, as (Reader) emerged from the bushes, wide eyed at the sight before them.

"I.. didn't heal him right.." Nephin sadly stated, holding out the rabbit to his unrequited love.

(Reader) reached out for the beast, ignoring it's screams. After a brief inspection, (Reader) got on their knees to stand at eye level with Nephin. "What is your name, child?"

".. Nephin."

"Nephin, dear young magick user, you were born for power, but not to heal."

"-but-"

"This rabbit is dead." (Reader) angled the violently wriggling head towards Nephin so the child could see the green hue in the bunny's clouding eyes. "What you have accomplished, was quite impressive for one without training. You are a necromancer."

Nephin felt his tiny heart shatter. The tears that had begun to dry restarted, falling freely down his round, baby cheeks. "But I wanted to - to heal!"

"Look at me." (Reader) snapped their fingers, startling Nephin into choking back his sob. "With the advancements in non magickal science, even regular men can make healing medicines. With time, the doctors and the apothecaries will surely render healers useless. However, you can do what no healer has ever achieved. You can raise the dead."

(Reader) hoped that they successfully encouraged the kid, handing him back his first successful minion.

Their words would haunt him for the rest of his life.

After (Reader) disappeared, Nephin ran away from home, traveling across the continent to find necromancers to study under. They gladly accepted him as one of their own, filling him with praise over his natural talent. And as the years went by, Nephin grew in power tangentially with (Reader). He had no proof that the nearly inhuman Letum was (Reader), but with the descriptions of their abilities he had little doubt in his mind as to who they were.

Without an ability to heal themselves, (Reader) slowly became less and less of the person they once were. Stories told of the terrifyingly powerful being spread around the world, as the strongest warriors of all classes and species left to challenge them and were destroyed so thoroughly that there was not body to send back to their families. The only times (Reader) was injured was due to their hubris, which allowed their opponents to gain the upper hand. The fighters would be reduced to ash with a snap of their fingers afterwords, but (Reader) never missed the opportunity to allow their opponents to show off their pitiful abilities against them.

Scars covered so much of (Reader's) skin, that their original skin tone was difficult to determine. With a bald head and lack of a nose or upper lip, the intimidating menace was easily mistaken for a monster.

No one but Nephin remembered (Reader), but everyone knew of Letum the Terrible.

And as time went on, Nephin's love for his first crush never faded, counting down the days until he reached adulthood and could track down (Reader). He knew, logically, that (Reader) would not remember him, but whether or not they allowed him to follow them around like their loyal dog, or killed him without a second thought, was enough for him; just to be in their presence once more would be an honor.

On Nephin's twentieth birthday, when he was awarded the highest rank amongst his adoptive village and became not only an adult, but a necromancer more powerful than any other in history, he set out to find (Reader), ready to track them down by following their crimes like a trail of rose petals.

Instead, Nephin found a nation of people celebrating the death of Letum.

And it was as though his entire existence had been a waste.

Letum the Terrible was preserved with magick to be researched my magickal scientists.

Their body would not deteriorate, nor rot, as scholars from around the world freely came to poke and prod and slice open their body in an attempt to understand what gave Letum such immense power.

In the hall of intellectuals, Nephin stood transfixed before the viewing table, admiring what little remained of the neighbor he once knew. Their chest and abdomen were hollowed out, every organ except the brain removed and placed in jars to be examined. Everyone who got a chance to see the most powerful evil to have ever lived felt comfortable enough in the corpse's presence to mock (Reader).

"They died from something so mundane.."

"An allergy? Even children can heal themselves.."

"Perhaps they were bored with life.."

"Perhaps they weren't so strong after all.."

'Enough with this slander.' Except for (Reader's) body, each and every cadaver, no matter how incomplete they were, woke, and turned on the humans. The atmosphere quickly changed from cheeky to tragic, everyone scrambling in a mass panic as the dead began to tear apart the living. In the chaos Nephin stole away (Reader's) body, carrying them like a bride on their wedding day.

It took years to find every piece he needed.

Nephin searched the world for pieces to fix his precious neighbor, his first and only love. The two were now the same age as each other, as a corpse can not grow old.

Although Nephin found (Reader) just as beautiful with their scars as he did when they were children, the world knew of Letum, but only he knew of (Reader). So he hunted down pieces of the old (Reader) throughout the lands. Someone's similar shaped nose, a hide matching their skin tone and texture, scalping someone with (Reader's) hair. Bit by bit, throughout the years, with the help of a warlock under contract to resurrect her wife, Nephin sew (Reader) back together.

(Reader) woke up.

Head splitting in pain, they forced themselves to sit up, despite the voice of a stranger commanding them to take it slow. Everything was fuzzy, and they couldn't recall what had happened to cause such a stiffness and agony. The last thing they remembered was being bitten by a spider, and falling ill nearly instantly, collapsing alone in the woods.

They raised their arm to inspect their bite, but found an unfamiliar arm. Patches of skin stitched together. Their other arm was similarly foreign, and as their eyes learned to focus again, they learned that the same was true for the rest of their naked body.

"I wanted to clothe you, however I was worried the texture would be uncomfortable on your new skin." The stranger with white hair and tired eyes shyly spoke, disturbingly pale skin blushing red.

"I am in no mood for jokes." (Reader) attempted to proclaim loudly, however, their voice was nothing but a dry whisper.

"You may not remember me, but I remember you. I am the one who brought you back. And.." The red deepened as his smile trembled. "I am your master now."

"Ha! Cheeky. Regret your words, and I, Letum the Terrible, shall let you live."

"You are no longer Letum the Terrible." He bent down, caressing their left hand and placing a soft kiss on a their ring finger before pulling out a small box. "You are (Reader), my beloved spouse."

"That's it." (Reader) raised their hand, no longer amused. "This conversation is over."

And snapped their fingers.

.. but nothing happened.

Confused, they looked at their hand.

"I told you." Nephin said sweetly, admiring the green swirl of magick in (Reader's) eyes. "I am your master now."

#sorry for taking so long #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere necromancer #necromancer #gn reader #cw blood #cw obsession #cw death #evil reader

[queer-reader-07]

if you would allow me to be sappy on main for a moment, i think there is something so powerful in choosing to fall in love with the world and with the human story.

i can't speak for everyone, but i know that i went through a period in my life where i was nothing but cynical and nihilistic about the world. i had convinced myself that nothing mattered, that if the world fell apart before my eyes it was what we deserved.

but here's the thing, cynicism isn't sustainable. you are never going to be able to find joy in this world if you convince yourself everything sucks and there's no joy to even be found in the first place.

yeah, sometimes the world does suck. sometimes all i want to do is curl up in a corner and sob because i'm violently scared that my loved ones won't come home safe because they dared to exist as themselves in this world. i cannot put into words the levels of fear i felt for my mom's safety during 2020/2021 when anti-asian hate spiked in the US, i worried everyday that she would not come home because how dare she exist as an asian woman in this country. when anti-trans legislation started picking up steam i was, and still am, scared for the safety of myself and all the trans people i know. the world sucks sometimes, people suck sometimes. but i refuse to let myself give up.

i want to believe in beauty of the world, i want to be able to revel in the fact that we are alive, that i am alive. and that our being alive means that we can create beauty and wonder and joy.

i get to enjoy the art that people create, because oh how special is it that we create art? that i can open my phone and read beautiful words crafted by people oceans and countries away. that i can bask in the beauty of the drawings and paintings people so kindly share with the world. that i can walk into a library and be surrounded by generations of stories that i have the privilege of reading. that i can go to a concert and experience the transcendence of live music.

but i also get to experience the beauty of nature. i get to watch as the clouds turn pink on my early morning drives to school. i get to take photos of the cherry blossoms in the few weeks that they turn pink in the spring. i get to look out my car window on a clear day and see the mountain grace us with her beauty.

i am alive. we are alive. why should we waste this life wallowing in cynical despair?

i have to believe in the world. i have to believe in the human story. i have to hold onto the hope that life is worth living and that things will get better. i am reminded of that hope every time i see art that makes me feel alive, every time i read a book or a poem or a story that makes me feel like being a human is a beautiful thing, every time a song transports me into a new world. i am reminded of that hope every time i talk to my friends and am reminded of why i love them so deeply. i am reminded of that hope every time i learn something new and feel the joy of new beginnings and new experiences wash over me.

i hope. and that is a powerful thing. it is a powerful thing to hope and to love and to believe. to hope for a better world. to love the world. to believe in the world.

a friend told me recently that i love and care for humanity fiercely and gently. and i think that's the root of it all. i don't just love my people, i love people. i love the human story, i believe in the human story, i have hope for our story.

it is powerful to love and believe and hope when you exist within a society that wants to beat you down. it is powerful to love and believe and hope when you are the "other" in the social order. it is powerful to love and believe and hope when you used to think you were not worthy of those things.

it's hard to love and to hope and to believe. but i have to, for my own survival. i have to allow myself to fall in love with the world. i have to allow myself to believe. i have to allow myself to hope. because for so long i didn't allow myself those things. and i think that is a powerful thing, that i can allow myself those things now.

#this ended up much longer than i'd intended #woops lol #i just love the world and the human story and art #love is powerful #hope is powerful #and don't let anyone tell you otherwise #love #radical hope #radical love #personal #musings on love #not good omens

[sscarletvenus]

some lookism childhood headcanons 

i imagine hyungseok as one of those really cute kids that resemble marshmallows. he's just so soft and round and giggles when you pick him up and spin him around!!! his mom would take him to work with her and her coworkers would give him all sorts of snacks and pocket money. he's like a bouncing ball of pure sunshine.

johan as a kid would be extremely intrigued with religious imagery. he would often try to memorise the architecture of the church his mother takes him to, and then try to draw them when he's bored. 

i also imagine that johan's an amazing artist, and the god dog logo is his own design. when he was small, johan would always want to participate in art competitions, but art supplies are a luxury so he gives up on that desire pretty fast. he conveys the same to his mom, who praises him for being a sensible child as johan sniffles on her shoulder against a tattered cardigan that smells like home.

samuel was always too little for his age, and never managed to eat until he was full. either his mom would scream at him for being within her sight for too long, or he would lose his appetite seeing her face. 

he watches his mom's TV soaps from a corner and sees everyone being nice to the handsome and capable male lead, and starts believing that people only care for what they cannot have. so, he too, will become someone unattainable by everyone.

samuel is too angry for someone that scrawny, so the seniors always beat him to pulp. but, he never cries. instead, if the other boys would listen closely, they would hear him mutter under his breath, "i am gapryong kim…" (yes this is about kdj telling himself that he's yjh from orv)

jake as a kid is very easy to please. he's like a porcelain doll that you have to poke in order to get a reaction, but once he knows you, he clings and never lets go. 

teen jake is almost a carbon copy of young gapryong, but when he smiles, he looks exactly like his mom. but, years of living with his dad make his smiles dim in frequency, so the resemblance goes unnoticed. 

growing up, jake would probably hate mirrors as he is reminded of how much his appearance starts resembling his dad's, when he looks into one. his relationship with his mom grows strained because he doesn't want her to be in pain when she is inevitably reminded of gapryong when she looks at him, so he always tries to disappear from her sight, and eventually runs away from home, not knowing his future in a gang where, in order to be with those his loves, he must become inseparable from his dad's violence.

zack is a typical rich kid who always gets what he wants. he is very into superhero movies and comics, and is an idealist who takes inspiration from his favourite characters. he too wishes to save his friends and protect his love just like the figures wearing flowing capes on the screen, drawn on the pages of his books. 

vasco is also into action-comics and superheroes, but he is the one who wants to be “saved.” like he looks at his mom struggle financially and emotionally as a single-parent and wonders what a saviour would look like, when they would arrive. (i think one of the many reasons he becomes breakdak's student is because he feels he is accompanying an invincible force that can guide him in his path to save others, and thus, save himself.) 

vasco’s morality also stems from the absolute goodness of heroes, where he is a stickler for reform within the boundaries of pre-established rules and codes of moral conduct.

jace as a kid is a nightmare. u know they say that kids are blunt but jace takes it to a whole another level. you CANNOT lie to him, in front of him, about him because he WILL expose your lies. his analysis goes crazy and adults are a bit scared of him. santa? “i know it’s you, dad.” “H-HOW???” “i just know. also you left the house at 8 in the evening and returned with exactly 5000 won missing from your wallet. The price of chocolate-” “OKAY. OKAY. STOP. JESUS”

goo’s weird and off-putting vibes have accompanied him from the womb. he mutilated insects by plucking out their wings and trapping them under glasses before torturing them in “the fly : short story by katherine mansfield” style. there isn’t much to say except he probably committed arson before reaching the age of twelve.

gun is the gojo satoru of lookism like the balance in the yakuza was shifted after his birth. yes the power he inherits is a burden to him but he loves having the burden and being the sole one to possess it.

he feels no genuine emotions or connections to anyone at all, as if he and the world around him are separated by an impenetrable wall, the strong existing on the pinnacle of a lonely mountain towering over the weak. 

the only emotion that gets to him is the sense of pure ecstasy he feels during fights, the thrill of fighting just for the sake of it, the enjoyment of enacting violence unto his enemies bcz he knows he is at the top (on heaven and earth, i alone am the honoured one)

that’s it for now!!! hope that clears my brainrot amen.

#lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #jake kim #kim gimyung #park jonggun #gun park #gun lookism #samuel seo #seo seongeun #daniel park #park hyungseok #goo kim #kim jungoo #goo lookism #zack lookism #zack lee #lee jinsung #lee euntae #vasco lookism #lookism jace #jace park #park bumjae #seong yohan #yohan lookism #johan seong #johan lookism #daniel lookism #park hyungseok lookism #eli jang

[icypolargirl78]

i'm so fucking tired man. i don't normally post on tumblr beyond reblogging and making art occasionally but i cannot think of anywhere else to put these thoughts so whatever

i'm not entirely sure if anyone will read this post and that's okay, i don't have many followers and there are better posts to follow when it comes to supporting palestine and her people. don't give up hope, keep reblogging, keep talking about palestine okay. even if you think it doesn't matter it does. talking about what's happening beats back every bit of propaganda that gets spread about palestine. every bit counts

FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA PALESTINE WILL BE FREE

here is a list of resources that you can donate to if you can. and if you can't, please reblog anyways. boost them.

i'm sick and tired of the constant news from palestine. not because i want to remain blissfully ignorant about what's happening there but because with each passing hour i get more and more angry and discouraged regarding what's happening there. i cannot in my mind truly comprehend the level of inhumanity that is required to forcefully remove people from their homes, to deprive them of basic necessities like water, food, and medical care, and then carpet bomb the land that so many families have lived on for literal decades. it's horrific and a disgusting level of evil.

beyond that i have to live with the knowledge that my government is actively funding these atrocities. i don't even want to call it my government because there is no way in my mind that any human could possibly see the deaths caused by israel and want to help them continue in their path of genocide.

these past few months have solidly confirmed in my mind that capitalism is single-handedly one of the worst things to have ever happened to our society because capitalism the thing that's behind my government supporting these atrocities. plain and simple it makes companies more money to help kill literal children who have done nothing wrong than to send aid to those children and to call for a ceasefire. it's sickening that my government is choosing to support this senseless violence simply because it means they can sell more guns and bombs and tanks.

i think about how the world will speak on these events in 20, 30, 50 years from now. i wonder how the history books will recount the brave gazans who survived what happened. i wonder if my country will continue to pump out propaganda regarding their involvement in this disaster. i wonder if the textbooks and worksheets students will read and write on will echo the way that my textbooks talked about native americans or african slaves. i wonder how many lives will get reduced to a statistic on a page.

and it makes me sad. so depressingly sad that so many people will get swept under the rug. that every lost life will never be mourned in the way every human deserves to.

i get conflicted over whether or not i have any right to speak on these events. i live a very privileged life. i never have to worry about when my next meal is coming, i have access to clean and safe drinking water at all hours of the day, i have a roof over my head and 24 hour access to the internet. why should i, someone who has all this, speak about events that are happening across the world. why should i have the right to mourn and speak about people who are now gone when those who are still alive are living in some of the worst conditions known to humankind.

and i realise that that's what the israeli government wants. they want me to stop thinking about gaza and palestine as a whole. they want the world to turn their backs and ignore the atrocities they are committing.

and i don't want that to happen. i'll continue clicking daily for palestine. i'll continue to reblog posts about gaza. i will keep that shred of hope that one day i will wake up and my tumblr dashboard will be filled with posts celebrating a ceasefire, that one day palestine will be free from the occupation of a tyrannical state.

but even knowing that doesn't take away from the guilt that i feel when i see gofundme's and links to aid relief programs. i've donated an esim to gaza and i really do hope that it helps someone but i'm not in a position to do anything more than reblog posts and do my daily clicks.

#free palestine #free gaza #from the river to the sea #support palestine

[audistorium]

How I Even Got Here: A Letter from Lemon to Hopeful Creatives

This is going to be a lot. But maybe that's why we(I) made a tumblr. This is a place stories like these can be told.

Four months ago I was not a showrunner.

Four months ago I had no idea what to do.

Four months ago I had little to no friends in Audio Drama as a whole. There were a small handful of twitter people I knew, and I was a ghost in a few discords because I was afraid to ask anyone anything. But.. I was mostly riding solo.

I spent several years learning nothing but sound design after becoming completely enthralled by The Sandman. Shortly after I found SCP Archives and indie Audio Dramas that blew my mind.

Yet even with all that time making soundscapes and learning the intricacies of sound design under my belt, I still felt that gnawing imposter syndrome of creating a show. I've now learned this is pretty widespread in AD creators. Funny how that works, isn't it?

Who was I? Some broke kid from Arkansas that's fascinated by productions of sound and theatre of the mind? A less than well known comedian that wanted to tell the weird tales that manifest from nothing in my brain? I guess in the end that didn't really matter to me. I wanted to tell the scary stories that popped into my head and combine them with later episodes that tell funny ones. An interweaving web that I couldn't get out of my head until I brought it to life.

I talk about the night I uploaded my first episode a lot. My hands were shaking. My heart was nearly beating out of my chest and my face was buried in my palms for a while. I ended up saying "Fuck it." and hit upload. I sat there for a while just watching the episode pop up on different platforms one by one.

There it was. The thing I built up and wrote and worked my ass off for so long for. "What now?" I wondered.

I sat there for an hour kind of looking at the Spotify cover art that had been done well over a year before this point. Yet somehow it felt more real now. More tangible. This was something I could hold in my hands now and say I created. That was an unreal feeling. It was even more mind bending to think that this was only the start of the journey.

I got on Twitter that night and posted about it. It did not take long for someone to reach out. That person was Jesse Hall. Someone who showed me enough kindness to say all of these things that spelled out to me: "Hey, there are communities out there of people that want you to keep making these"

I ended up finding my home, The Liminal Lands discord. A show hiding out in a discord for another show. The thing is, though..

There really WAS this sense of community in it.

Since that point I have been in shows that previously I was only a fan of. I have met people that have been doing this for like 10+ years that treat me as a peer. I have other friends now that are also new showrunners.

I've been asked to be the sound designer in two different productions that are aiming for Tribeca. How nuts is that?

While it does mean my own show has to wait a second, this is incredible that people actually want to involve me at such a level when I feel like the biggest imposter in the room.

It has not been an easy past four months. Not even remotely. I wrote, voiced and sound designed episode 2: Lemonal in 24 hours because I felt like I needed to tell that story. It was one that was very personal. I've been able to share experiences of helplessness, death and fear. But also personal growth.

Soon, of my own humor.

I can put all of myself into this and I never have any intention of stopping that.

Four months later, I am a showrunner. I am the writer, sound designer and often one of the voice actors in my own show.

Four months later, I am confident in what I am capable of, and I am extremely proud of what I've been able to do because so many caring people pushed me and told me that I can do this. That If I stop punishing myself and telling myself my work is bad, I'll learn to love it more. So I did.

Four months later, I have friends that I would not trade for anything in the world and I think that things are only going up from here.

If you stumble across this as a hopeful creative, and you're not certain that you can accomplish what you want.. Well. Look at me.

I had nothing and no one. Our very small budget got us 3 covers and published. Good enough.

Now I have people that care enough to make me better every day. People that just want to be involved in what I made. That is extremely cool, and nowwww, every time I make something new I improve. I couldn't ask for anything better.

Take the leap. People will help you. People will support you.

I promise.

#audio drama #audio fiction #fiction podcast

[oh-hell-help-me]

July 8: Video Games Day

Bowser wasn’t one for video games, at first.

Junior was the first to get into them, obtaining a variety of consoles that have taken a good portion of his room- which is impressive, considering the rest of it was filled with his bed, art supplies, and hundreds of canvases.

He thought that Junior would be the only child to have an interest in them.

Until he found Ludwig playing “Guitar Villian” with Junior cheering him on.

After that, the other Koopalings started trickling into the hobby as well, with each delving into genres that contributed variety to Junior’s collection.

Larry was predictably drawn towards the adventure/Beat-‘em-Up genres that exuded flashy action sequences and mechanics. However, he was also a bit picky about which he plays, as Bowser found out the hard way.

Morton, on the other hand, surprisingly liked mystery-oriented games like “Professor Clayton”, or “Sphinx Bright: Ace Attorney”. He is also surprisingly good at them, but only if he lets himself stew over the information he’s given (and remembers where he left off).

Wendy was someone who enjoyed anything from the "Barbee" series, although Bowser couldn’t see the connection between that and the gorey Horror games she likes. He’s not sure if he ever wants to know.

Iggy was the one who enjoyed Sci-fi games like “Malter Effect”- usually getting drawn in by the promise of complex technological ‘world building’, but then somehow ending up obsessed with the fictional characters.

Roy had a preference for laid-back games like "Laircraft", liking to build fortresses, treehouses, and other architectural projects that could be made in a cubical world.

Lemmy was the one who liked playing simulators, some of which seem to be ‘out there’ in terms of what the simulation is- like being in control of a Piranha Plant or living through historical tragedies.

Ludwig liked any and every type of musical or rhythm-based game. The sudden veer toward “Just Stomp” was a surprise, of course, but logically followed the same principles he enjoyed with “Rhythm Heck”.

Junior still had his preference for racers and sport-related games, but the gradual inclusion of the collective Koopaling collection has made him try other games- having more success with Larry’s and Roy’s recommendations.

Heck, even Bowser got roped into participating in their gaming sessions. If not as an onlooker, then as a teammate or opponent. It… was more fun than he anticipated.

So, when he married Luigi (with his kids’ insistence and Mario’s blessing), he felt like he only had to wait a week before finding Luigi in the same boat.

And then he found out his husband was a bit of a gamer too. Just…

Not exactly the same level as the kids.

For whatever Grambi-damned reason, Luigi was ridiculously lucky in anything involving chance.

Secret Combos? Completely discovered by accident.

Finding randomized clues? Somehow uses the correct sequence of finding them even when he visibly looks lost.

Horror game survival? Always chooses the right path or figures out the quickest way to defeat the creature/bad guy.

Speech checks? Always passed on the first try.

"Laircraft" Loot? Roy immediately started farming cave chests with Luigi ‘taking a turn’.

Unlocking hidden achievements? Always, always getting at least one every session.

Following the rhythm of a new song? Somehow never stumbles despite his clumsiness.

Getting power up’s in a racer game? Always the right one for the situation, especially ones that get Luigi into 1st place.

The fact that his luck is ridiculous enough to transcend genres is a point of wonder (and bets) among his kids, and Bowser ended up dreading the day they run out of games to lob at him.

And then they turned to card games- specifically poker.

It was a type of videogame that Bowser couldn’t get- why gamble play a virtual game of cards if you could do it easily in real life?

And, knowing that Luigi used to work in a casino (so many questions, so little answers), Bowser figured he’d have that game in the bag.

And then he saw him lose, for the first time ever.

The Koopalings, who have gathered to spectate another success, were stunned silent as they realized that Luigi LOST.

Bowser was stunned silent, but for a different reason:

Luigi looked resigned- like this happened before.

“I guess there are rules in this world that never change…”

“What.”

"Ah," Luigi just blinks at them all, not understanding the sheer significance of what they witnessed. "I'm not good with card games."

“What.”

"Um. I'm not good with them?"

“Mama, surely you're joking.... you're not joking ohmystars-"

"Why would I joke about that?"

"Why would you be horrible with card games?"

"Not horrible! Just... unlucky."

...

Even far outside the castle, citizens of the Koopa Kingdom have heard a loud, collective snort that conveyed varying levels of disbelief.

But they continue their day, blaise and knowing that Luigi is the cause of it.

#bowuigi #NATIONAL HOLIDAY #ohmygosh #so #many #videogame references

[thateldribitch]

Sins of the Father

Alternatively: "Yanderes have me in a chokehold 2."

This Yandere Wukong belongs to Lopushi. Whoooo I feel like I've tagged too much and I don't want to bother <_< But yeah.

This one is based off of this post.

***

The darkest, smallest spaces offer some small solace when MK is alone. Alone. He hates it. No friendly voices, no friends to look forward to hanging out, no safety. His heart thunders in his chest; his only company, next to his shuddering breath. Every muscle aches from holding so still. His chest hurts from the breaths he forces himself to hold. The walls press into his back, digging in. Sometimes, it feels like they’re closing in—

“MK? Where are you, my boy?” Wukong’s cheerful voice grates against MK’s ears. Every time. It’s ‘his’ boy. ‘His’ son. ‘His’ cub. It’s like a brand, burning against the young boy’s brain. Infantilizing and possessive all at once. He can’t stand it. He wants Mom–Macaque. He wants Macaque. The reasonable one, the protector, the one sane person on this whole mountain. The one who tries to get him home. MK knows he can trust Macaque. But no matter how many times Wukong makes him say it, he knows better. Macaque isn’t his mother, just like Wukong isn’t—

Claws hook into the cupboard.

MK screams.

“Now, now. I know you want to keep playing, but you’ll wake your mother.” Wukong clucks his tongue, disapprovingly. MK squirms as he’s scooped up, under the arms, like he weighs nothing. He probably doesn’t. Wukong can level mountains, kill gods and demons—he could crack MK like a nut. But the Monkey King just brushes his nose against his. A soft chirp escapes Wukong, a happy, sweet little noise…. MK finds himself chirping back, nuzzling back. His tail wags.

Tears prick in the corners of his eyes.

“What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?” Wukong immediately pulls back, blood red eyes wide in alarm. “MK, what—?

“N-No—” He doesn’t want to react this way. He doesn’t want to wag his tail, to chirp, to do anything a monkey would do. He’s human, he’s human, he’s human. It’s only a small balm to the pervasive ache when Wukong sets him down.

“We can keep playing if you want—!” Wukong’s hands hover over him. Some noise builds in the taller’s throat. A whine, a whimper, something grieved and terrified. Maybe he wonders if he hurt his cub? And some part of MK—some part of the monkey cub—wants to burrow into Wukong’s arms. Wants to cry against his chest and fall into his arms and be held. But that. Isn’t. Him.

“No, no, no!” He squirms, kicking, sobbing. He smacks Wukong’s hands away. It’s in the silence he realizes his mistake. MK’s eyes widen. His breaths puff out in uneven bursts. The room closes in. “I-I’m sorry.”

“MK.” That soft worry is gone. The real Sun Wukong stares at him with a blank face. A face he’s sure has been the last sight for many people. For demons. Monsters. Humans…. “You know better.”

“I-I’m sorry—” He can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Scared. So scared. Pigsy, Tang, Monkey King—someone help. Someone help.

“You’re grounded, Kiddo. You’re staying in your room until I can talk with your mother.” Heedless of his cries, Wukong scoops him into his arms; his screaming doesn’t sound human anymore. It’s a whooping screech, pitched and shaking and terrified. No amount of fists beating against his chest do a thing. But his claws, his claws, tear at Wukong’s war robes. He’s dragged to his room—the room. His prison. There’s a lock on the outside, and only a painted window on the inside. There’s games and art books and paint but it’s a prison. He can’t. He doesn’t want to. Please, please, no, he wants to go outside, he wants to go h o m e—

“D-Dad, please—!” The words slip out before he can stop them. Wukong’s eyes widen, irises as thick as cherries, then round as pomegranates. The golden-furred monkey’s tail wags, as he stops at the threshold to his room.

“...You called me Dad.” A genuine grin alights on his cheeks. MK swallows. Wukong looks expectant.

“D-Dad. Please don’t. Please don’t put me in my room. I’ll be good. I’m sorry.” MK hesitantly unhooks his claws—his claws—from Wukong’s shirt. He leans forward to nuzzle their noses together, clumsily. Those golden pupils dilate, consuming the red with brilliant sunshine yellow. He almost looks like the man MK used to idolize…. Before he found out the truth.

“Alright. Well.” That pleased smile looks… manic. Terrifyingly. But MK makes himself smile too. It’s more of a flash of teeth and pulling of lips, something as grotesquely fake as rigor mortis…. But Wukong doesn’t seem to notice. He never seems to notice. He pulls his cub closer, nuzzling the top of his head, chirping happily…. Fully delusional, as usual. “Just this once.”

Relief is a bucket of ice splashed over him. He falls into Monkey King’s arms. His limbs feel useless as lead, limp as a noodle. He misses noodles. He doesn’t dare ask Wukong for any, he doesn’t want— 

“MK—?” Macaque. Macaque, Macaque, Macaque!

“H-Hi. Mom.” MK’s smile twitches. His reddened eyes burn with tears. It takes so little for the dark-furred monkey to assess the situation. The boy hanging in his ‘father’s’ arms. Wukong’s affectionate assault. With practiced ease, the shadow slips into the sun’s embrace. He nuzzles the bottom of Wukong’s chin, presses a kiss to it. The motion makes MK feel sick. It looks so natural, so practiced, so…. The worst thing he’s ever done is lead Monkey King right to his lost ‘lover.’ But then warm arms wrap around him, start to tug him away. Wukong whines, holding onto them a little tighter. He doesn’t want to let go. 

He’ll never let them go.

“Wukong….” Macaque growls out in warning. The Monkey King’s tail droops. When he still doesn’t listen, Macaque snips his teeth at him. It’s more of a click of his canines, than anything. Macaque wouldn’t dare bite Wukong, but the threat of it seems to make him back off…. Pouting, he placatingly holds his hands up, stepping back a pace. Sighing, the dark-furred monkey pulls MK to his chest. 

They’re talking. MK distantly knows they’re talking. But he can’t make out the words. It’s a blur of sound, a blur of color. He can’t tell if it’s tears or panic or both or more. Everything’s. So…. “MK. MK, look at me. It’s…. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Fur against his face. A soft hanfu. Warm hands. Holding him. So carefully. Cradling his head. A heartbeat against his ear. A tail curls around his own—a sob chokes out of MK’s lips. “Shh, shh, I know—”

But he can’t. He can’t breathe. It’s a gross cry. Mei would call it a gross cry. All snot and choked sobs and half breaths and Pigsy and Tang aren’t here to rub his back. Macaque doesn’t know to do that. He doesn’t want to tell him. He wants him to. He wants—to go home.

It all goes black.

…

…

…

“I’m sorry.”

#lego monkie kid #lmk #wukong #mk #sun wukong #monkie kid #macaque #six eared macaque #yandere #yandere shadow peach #dark shadowpeach #shadowpeach

[moonlight-tmd]

Saw your rebolg on the warbuild bee post : D

I was wondering what your take would be on WF!Bee? Like before everything happens and he’s sent to boot camp. I kind of imagined a more street smart version of him that’s rough around the edges but still has a sense of humor, even if it’s a bit darker. He basically built himself from nothing on his colony and had to learn quickly before it had a chance to suffocate him. Through his experience he’s been humbled a bit, but when he’s talking about his speed and skills, he’ll still brag and say he’s the fastest mech/greatest weapons engineer to ever be sparked.

As for his whole relationship with Blitz, I liked to imagine them being physically affectionate with each other. They practically have a long distance relationship due to Blitzwings work, and when they finally get to see each other again, they stick to together like superglue, whether it be lightly caressing the others (door)wing or clinging to each other like koalas (with Bee being Blitzwings size, they have a much easier time cuddling). And of course there’s Bee’s gift giving love language; Blitzwing is practically armed to the derma with finest quality weaponry the galaxy can offer, courtesy of his sweet mechfriend who want to make sure he can beat the autobots good and swiftly. That’s not mentioning every upgrade Bee has preformed on every piece of equipment he could get his servos on, he’s practically given Blitz’s ship a full makeover by now.

That is really cool! I like that idea a lot too!

I thought about how'd he look like as a warframe and i got an idea-

Like what if he magically got his original frame back but with some tweaks to fit earth? They fight over Allspark Shard, he got buried in a mountian of scrap, then some weird glowing shit happens and molten metal pours over and a freshly forged Warframe emerges from the pile. In this he has a monster truck alt mode; I was imagining sorta viking warrior vibe to it, he's got in-build swords that can electrocute ya, his tires are on the back rather than on the shoulders, no doorwings. Also some bronze detailing on top of shiny yellow. Here's a quick sketch of the general look cuz i suck at drawing detailed art from my head-

Yes he got yellow optics cuz they are cool and he's not autobot so no blue. Also i thought he'd have like, an emblem of something like a hammer on his chassis instead of the faction insignia, like a mark that he leaved on everything he forges to sell so everyone knows it was him that made it. Also fun fact- he has retractable claws, except they're thinner and also work as welding tool. An easy way to work with tiny details and parts.

I like the idea that he was considered the greatest engineer/smith/forgemaster that ever existed, therefore Megatron has high respect for the guy. He was nicknamed 'The Architect' and the rumour of the rising legend spread before mysteriously disappearing [aka Bee getting taken and reformatted].

Before he got reformatted tho... hmmm. Yeah his love language would defo be giving gifts, be it weapons or just small sentimental things like jewelry or statuettes made of metal. He is kinda good with engraving, not on the same level as Blitz but it's still nice. Surely he was great at giving bear hugs, really keen on physical contact. My bet is that he was stronger than Blitzwing and could easily pick him up and carry around- having to carry all the heavy materials for the forge n all. I think Blitz was just a seeker back then and then got upgraded to triple-changer. And then they got conjuxed- ah you probably read the other reply so i won't repeat.

And way earlier- he was kind but also rough, he was kinda like Ratchet when repairing his upgrades on others- complaining and judging them for whatever they did that broke the thing. He was playful and didn't really take into account if the fella he spoke with was a high placed individual or just a random street bot, he treated all his customers equally. I like to think he got taken off the streets by a smith that taught him all he knows and then Bee took over the workshop once he was old enough. Then one day an out-of-ordinary mech came into his workshop and tadah, we got a love story.

Even tho he was a Warframe he didn't like to fight, he preferred to spend time in his workshop tinkering away to his Spark's desire. Once he got on the autobot team and on earth, he surely did some small things for the group to help them recover- new med tools for Ratchet, maybe some shurikens for Prowl, little upgrades to make their weapons or stuff more durable and so on. Besides Bulkhead, he never shared anything from his past to anyone, all his team knows is that he's outstanding with tinkering. He doesn't like to dwell on what he lost because of some autobots that forced him into this new life.

Geez that was chaotic to write, hope you can get around in this. Thanks for listening to my ted talk.

#blitzbee #maccadam #ask box #long post #warframe!bumblebee au #tfa au #tfa #tfa bumblebee

[polyphonical]

Dragon's Head - Back to Square One

Location: Wrestling Gym

Tomoya: Excuse me. Good work today~……

Tetora: One two~, three four~. Two two~, three four~ [1]. Hiiro-kun, make sure to stretch really well, okay?

Hiiro: Umu! I understand, Buchou. If you don’t stretch properly, you can get injured, so I’ll do it well. One two~, three four~. Two two~, three four.

Koga: Hey, Adonis. Let’s spar together ‘kay?

Adonis: Okay, I don’t mind. But Oogami, do we have to go that far when you're not competing in the show?

Koga: Heheh, don’t say things like that. You and I are friends.

C’mon, put on your gear already. I’m gonna beat the shit outta you ♪

Adonis: Hm? You’re going to be the one hitting? Oogami, maybe you just wanted to get your body moving?

Kuro: Aaand thereーー that’s enough punchin’ bags, right? I think we have this many people.

Lil’ miss might be stoppin’ by to check out how things are goin’, so maybe I should get a chair ready for her too.

Tomoya: ……

I don’t understand why I was chosen as a member for this!!

Tetora: Ah, Tomoya-kun. Sup～☆ What’s up? You just came in yellin’ all of a sudden.

Tomoya: No no! This is crazy, right!? The “The Starpro Rhylink Reconciliation Strategy” is a martial arts battle between both sides, right!?

So why was I chosen for this!? I can’t fight at all!?

Eichi: That’s because I recommended you, Tomoya-kun.

Tomoya: Ehhhh!? But why would you do that!? You’re participating too, right Tenshouin-senpai? Then just join by yourselfーー

Ah, is this your way of trying to be considerate to me? Sharing your work? Thanks, but no thanks. Please just compete by yourself.

Eichi: I’m not trying to be considerate. Have you taken a look around you? I have no other choice.

We’re surrounded by people with the strength of gorillas. Ah, maybe it’s more accurate to say they’re like gorillas themselves.

And yet I, someone as frail as a gazelle, got thrown in the middle. There’s no way I could compete in something like this, right?

Eichi: That’s why I recommended Mashiro-kun as a person I could compete with ♪

Tomoya: You’re not being considerate of me at all, are you. I’m more of a sacrifice than anything.

Koga: Haah? Just who are you calling a gorilla, Tenshouin-senpai? [2] Don’t blame me when I bite back after you talk shit behind our backs.

Eichi: Hey now, I never said that. I’d like it if you didn’t put words in my mouth. I said, “people with the strength of gorillas.”

Tomoya: You literally called them gorillas right after though……

Eichi: Did I now?

Ah, it’s my phone.

…Hm? Why are they calling me?

I’m going to step outside for a bit, so you can begin practicing without me. Helloーー

Koga: Aah. That bastard~ He just said his piece and ran away!

Tomoya: Sigh…… Based on how Tenshouin-senpai responded, it doesn’t look like I can get out of this one……

Tetora: Hi~yah!

Hiiro: Guh……!

Kuro: And there it is, technique! With that, Tetsu wins based on points!

Hiiro and Tetora: Thank you very much!

Hiiro: As I expected, you’re great, Buchou. I thought you were going to strike towards the upper half. I totally read that wrong!

Tetora: Yeah, I knew you were being wary of me striking you at the upper half, Hiiro-kun~. Tomoya-kun, you should join us next time ssu!

Tomoya: Absolutely not! That’s definitely impossible! Hell no! We’re at totally different levels! I’d die, y’know!? At the very least, let me fight against Tenshouin-senpaiーー

Wait, huh? Speaking of Tenshouin-senpai, he’s been on the phone for a long time, hasn’t he?

Koga: Maybe he got scared and ran away~.

Kuro: He doesn’t seem like the type of guy to run away like that…… I wonder what happened.

Adonis: Ah, Tenshouin-senpai is coming back.

Kuro: Hey. Ya were gone for quite a while. Any trouble? If ya can’t make it to practice today, it’s fine.

Eichi: Trouble… Yes. You can say I ran into trouble. Big trouble.

―― Everyone, we’re going to have to cancel today’s practice.

Kuro: Ha? The hell’s that mean?

Tetora: Literally ssu. It was really hard to get everyone’s schedules lined up for this…. Why do we have to cancel so suddenly?

Eichi: That call I just took was from the management at ES. They told me that we have to stop this plan.

Tetora: Ehhh!? Stop the plan… But why now!?

Eichi: Well, it’s not like I didn’t consider this possibility.

If two agencies that have been rumored to be on bad terms suddenly appeared on a TV show fighting each other, it might give an even worse impression of both agencies.

If they want to limit the number of risks taken, it’s not hard to imagine why they would be reluctant to go through with a project like this.

In fact, both Anzu and I understood these risks when we came up with the plan.

However, since this kind of project has many risks, it gives a sense of authenticity, even if it’s dramatic.

The more drama there is, the easier people are influenced.

Good grief. I thought the managers understood that. I didn’t think they’d be so spineless…

But since it got rejected, there’s nothing I can do but follow what they say.

Tomoya: So, are you going to come up with another plan?

Eichi: Perhaps. It’s hard to do anything right now. They asked me to come up with an alternative plan, but I haven’t came up with one yet.

At any rate, today’s practice has been cancelled. I will contact you all if there’s any progress made.

────────────────· · · · · ·♡· · · · · · ────────────────

Previous ♡ Directory ♡ Next

They're doing that type of counting where you say which set you're on as you count. So like, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 (1) 2 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 (2), and so forth. I hope that made sense TOT

Koga's being sarcastic here ofc, but he also said senpai in katakana instead of 先輩, so I italicized it for emphasis.

#ensemble stars #enstars #ensemble stars translation #enstars translation #polyphonical #eichi tenshouin #tetora nagumo #hiiro amagi #tomoya mashiro #adonis otogari #kuro kiryu #dragon's head

[du-buk]

8:11 Character/ Story asks;

Anons that have asked about characters and story beats! Spoilers are at the very end‼️

Trying to organize things the best I can! I’ve gotten SUPER behind on some asks.... I’m terribly sorry! I don’t go online much, and, reading text online is very difficult (for reference, this is what it looks like while also suffering from dyslexia)

Ryker ask;

Howdy! Sorry, but, Ryker’s clothing holds no meaning what-so-ever:D I think they just found a sweater they really liked and then added a crop top over it.

Nope! Beetle’s words are most likely verbal nonsense. Sounds like someone talking backwards, with some bug clicking noises, and chirping, and whatever else sprinkled in. He’s non human, and not like any living creature on Earth for that matter, so he wouldn’t have typical vocal cords.

Since he is linked with Ryker, his words are probably just telepathically and automatically translated for Ryker or something crazy like that.

Hmmmm.... the answer depends on where they are hanging out. If it’s at the basilica, Vittorino might be on edge and pissed. Which is the main reason why he attacked Ryker, haha.

If they’re all at Juliek’s house, or Accardi’s house.... hmmm. No okay, nevermind, it would still end up badly. Like this one vine

Gabriel Asks;

When I was redesigning him, I only gave him half facial hair to see what I liked..... but I liked how it looked just as is, so, I kept it, hahahah.

I like to think that he shaves during a shower, but, forgot to shave the other side until he stepped out of the shower.

Hmmm....I like to think Gabriel is a natural blonde. I think it’s just part of my style to add some colored roots to blonde characters (explains why Vittorino has black sideburns too lol) :) Susan will have a similar effect with different-colored roots:) If I keep the design idea hahahah

And Susan.....hmmmm...........

They most likely knew each other, if Gabriel was in the old friend group. But let’s find out in the future;)

Susan & Amalia asks;

She loves them! She probably does artsy things with Vittorino, and Accardi typically drives her around wherever since Juliek can’t drive.

Juliek’s wife was a model, and was also a graphic designer. And was in marketing once. She’s done a lot of different jobs, as she’s never satisfied with something long term.

 Vittorino/Juliek/Accardi asks;

HAHA oh anon(s).......... This dynamic was messy, that's for sure. Almost everyone fucked each other. But Chapter one was just a good starting point to get the basic idea of the trio friend group (Juliek, Accardi, and Vittorino.......and possibly Gabriel now too?), how they interact, feel about each other on a surface level, and Accardi moving on from Juliek to chase his interest in Ryker.

We will get to see a lot more with Juliek and Accardi’s past relationship, Juliek and who exactly his wife is, and their relationship, Vittorino’s factor with everything, etc. I’m glad you liked them so much! I love them so much:,D

He might. I wonder if it fucks up the high or not then, lol.   

No clue actually. I had no real vision for it when I made that dialogue.

Vittorino’s specialty is abstract art, so, maybe Accardi commissioned some floral abstract works? Something to put in his house and just admire. Who knows.... Too bad he can’t finish it now because he opened the damn Bible :)

Everyone’s hair is 100% natural! We live by anime rules in this universe.

I like to think Juliek’s wife, Susan, dyes her hair often just for aesthetic reasons though.

Vittorino fox hat🦊

What makes you ask that anon?

Well 😏 We know Accardi said his favorite was long pork.

Ryker likes sweet foods, and really likes yogurt cake and crepes.

Leon; Savory soups:) But probably hates that he sounds like an old man saying that, so he probably says its actually elk burgers.

Juliek; Probably something really fancy. Something that he can pair with a good glass of wine.... maybe something like a sausage pasta?

Susan;  Kare Pan (Japanese Curry Bread)

Vittorino; Quail meat

Gabriel; His mom's homemade pizza:) She makes it with prosciutto :,D

Dakota & Wankou; BBQ ribs and seafood! I don’t know much about seafood so uhhhh just guess for that one sorry lol.

1. Everyone’s a switch. Including him.

2. He probably only bottomed for two people in his whole life; Gabriel and ermmmmmmmmmmm. Well. Can’t say it’s spoilers :P

He would! But nooooooo idea how anyone would be able to pull it off. I’ve definitely thought of making his mask(face?) before, just for fun, but I have no experience in such things.

Possible Spoilers Regarding Leon;

Hi anon! I scanned through the pictures in the beginning of the game, and, I could not find any images of Leon with purple-colored eyes? If you can find one and send me the title or description of it, that would be appreciated as I can’t find it myself! Sorry! Leon’s eyes hold a lot of thematic and imagery importance, so, if Leon randomly has purple eyes I might need to fix that, hahahah. But his eyes should just be yellow/orange/gold (within that spectrum).

Although, Leon’s eye color was up for debate towards the ending (depending on what items you had collected). So who knows what truth Leon and Dante are hiding from Ryker ;)

#811 asks #vittorino #ryker #accardi #juliek #gabriel #susan #811 answers #dubuk art

[merlinsbbeard]

Bucking Brooms & Bloody Bludgers

@jilymicrofics Prompt: pain, words: 1404, content warning: head injury.

James groaned, eyes blinking wildly as the Hospital Wing ceiling came into focus. The sound around him was muffled, overcome by an unrelenting monotonous ringing in his ears. Pain split and re-split his skull. His nostrils stung with an overwhelming scent of chemicals. His very fibres ached, and he briefly wondered if this was how Remus felt after the full moon.

James was not unfamiliar with the Hospital Wing. He had had many injuries and ailments over the last six years at Hogwarts, but none so alarming as this. 

That morning—James hoped it was that morning—was the onset of the last match of the year. Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw. Stakes were high, as Gryffindor was beating Ravenclaw for the Cup, and Slytherin was beating them all. The game was Gryffindor’s to lose, and if they did they would be plunged into third place. 

It was because of this, that inter-house rivalry was significantly more potent in the antecedent weeks than they had been all year. Somehow, the air in the Great Hall was tenser than when Severus Snape had deflected Sirius’s Entomorphis Hex outside Defence Against the Dark Arts that February—James agreed that “the slimy git deserved it”—and hit a passing-by Hufflepuff, whose head sprouted feelers and back sported a pair of wings. The corridor had turned into an all-out riot, with students of all houses getting involved.

Despite the relatively early hour of the morning, the Great Hall was packed. Students were roving about the four banquet tables; many were placing bets and breaking into rehearsed chants, and more than once Professor McGonagall reprimanded groups for waving banners inside. 

James sat closest to the doors; with him were Sirius, Remus and Peter, as well as his teammates. He had been pushing his eggs around his plate for the past ten minutes; the mere smell of them made him want to yack, but a worm in his ear named Sirius had been telling him to “eat up” and that he would “need the energy for the game.”

“Good luck, Potter.” Tommy O’Connell, a seventh-year Gryffindor, clapped James on the back as he passed by. 

James winked over his shoulder at him, and turned back to his plate. Deciding that Sirius was right, he quickly ate as much of his plate as he could keep down—his stomach was roiling with nerves. “Ready?” he asked his team. 

“Ready.” Owen Atkinson, a burly fifth-year Beater nodded once, confidently, but secretly his hands shook beneath the table. 

Libby Marsh and Mya Gardner agreed, smiling uneasily up at their Captain and fellow Chaser. And Monty Burns, the other Beater, looked positively green. Their Seeker, Marlene McKinnon, only nibbled at the corner of her toast, eyes fixed on the oak tabletop, where Cohen Hughes, the Keeper, had planted his face as soon as he sat down with the group. 

“Go get ‘em, Prongs.” Remus smiled reassuringly at him. 

“We’ll be rooting for you.” Peter’s face was red and gold with paint, and he held two measly thumbs up.

James nodded stiffly at them and rose from his seat, followed by the rest of his team. He had just crossed the threshold into the Entrance Hall when he collided with someone that hadn’t been there a moment ago. 

“Watch it, Potter,” a scathing voice spat. It was Tadhg Wilkes. 

James was all too familiar with Wilkes. He was one of the youngest in the Slytherin gang, along with Snape, who was standing a little away from the commotion. Wilkes was renowned amongst their year group for hexing first and second-years, and getting away with it. He was otherwise a star student, Prefect, and part of the Slug Club. 

“Wilkes.” James levelled his gaze with the shorter boy. “Don’t go tripping over now, you might hurt yourself.”

Wilkes’s hand shot to his waistband where his wand was stowed, apprehensively. “Worry about yourself, Potter. Quidditch is a dangerous game…”

James had shaken off the odd exchange and put it down to theatrics. In fact, it was the last thing on his mind when his Nimbus 1700 had suddenly lurched from beneath him. 

“GRYFFINDOR IN THE LEAD BY NINETY POINTS,” the commentator, a seventh-year Hufflepuff named Michael Kelly, yelled into the microphone. 

James felt it lurch again. He muttered to it, “Come on, don’t do this to me now.” 

Mya flew past him, Quaffle tucked securely under her arm, followed by Libby who yelled at him to get back in the game. 

James took off once more, regaining control of his broom. He felt the sheer power of the thing rush through his fingertips and into his veins. It felt like he possessed pure energy. 

“AND TURNER HAS STOLEN POSSESSION FROM GARDNER. RAVENCLAW IS BACK ON THEIR GAME.” 

Simon Turner and his teammate Oli Dawson flew parallel up the pitch, looping to pass to one another. 

James was quick to follow. He darted towards the hoops, wind stinging his face. Under the Seekers, left of the Beaters, right of the Bludgers, through the scrambling Chasers.

He was gaining on them. 

James thought that if he reached out as far as he could, then his fingertips would surely have brushed the Quaffle. This was, of course,  if he hadn’t been hit square in the abdomen with a well-aimed Bludger. 

His lungs instantly lost capacity. 

“POTTER HAS BEEN HIT. I REPEAT, POTTER IS DOWN.” The words rumbled in his head. 

James barely had time to gasp for air before his broom bucked and he was flung into open air. 

There was a collective gasp from the spectators as he plummeted towards the stands. 

Limbs flailed in a frantic attempt to save themselves, grasping for what wasn’t there. His body was spinning erratically, faster than his mind could comprehend. The grassy pitch got larger by the second, but before he was even halfway down—

Crunch.

Hushed voices drifted in through the Hospital Wing doors, which had been left open a whisker, snapping James out of his dazed recollection. His ears had stopped ringing by then. 

“I cannot allow him any visitors at the moment.” 

“Please Madam Pomfrey, I won’t get in the way.” James recognised the disembodied voice. 

There was a pause, then the door creaked, and two sets of footsteps scuttled in. 

The sanitary-blue curtains around his too-small cot were harshly drawn open. Bright light flooded his vision, which he attempted to block with his hand. His arm, he now noticed, was bandaged with an itchy gauze. 

“James.” 

Lily Evans stood at the foot of the cot. Her eyes were frazzled and red from crying, her long titian hair uncharacteristically messy, her lips raw and nails gnawed to stumps. 

“Be honest, am I still handsome?” His voice was wheezy. Weak from not being used. 

Lily let out a half-laugh, half-sob. She rounded the cot, taking a seat at his side, and took his hand gingerly in hers. “Are you alright?” Her voice was brittle. 

“Of course,” he squeezed her hand, casting her a reassuring smile. 

Lily smiled in return. Watery and unconvincing. Her eyes kept flicking to his head, then back to his eyes. 

James frowned. “Is there something wrong with my…“ 

He reached his free hand towards his scalp, where most of his pain stemmed from. His tentative fingers were met with a patch of supple new skin, where thick hair usually grew. 

Lily swallowed loudly. “You hit your head.” 

“Go on.” 

“You hit your head on the stands on the way down and—and there was a lot of blood.” Her voice cracked. “Oh, James.”

She threw herself onto his chest—luckily Madam Pomfrey had already healed all the bruising—burying her face in the warm crook of his neck, breaking into tears for the third time that day. Her shoulders shook, tears and saliva dampening his ghastly hospital gown. 

“It’s alright.” He stroked her hair soothingly, shushing her. “I’m alright.”

It was a small while before the sobs were replaced by slow breaths and the occasional hiccup. 

Eventually Lily whispered, “I thought you were going to die,” though it was difficult to make out. 

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” he chuckled. 

A deep breath. “The boys are outside. They probably want to see you.” Lily started to sit up but James swiftly pulled her back into him, further onto his lap. He nuzzled his face into her soft hair. 

“Stay with me,” he whispered. 

“Of course. Always.”

read on AO3

#Jily #jily microfic #wordcount under 2k #marauders era #hogwarts sixth year #Lily Evans #James Potter #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Peter Pettigrew #Marlene McKinnon #Severus Snape #Wilkes #professor mcgonagall #poppy pomfrey #minerva mcgonagall #madam pomfrey #merlinsbbeard #merlinsbbeard microfic #prompted writing #hogwarts #harry potter #quidditch #hogwarts quidditch cup #quidditch captain james potter #fluff #marauders #microfic #jilymicrofics

[ranilla-bean]

20 questions for fic writers

@erisenyo tagged me, thanks! it was really interesting to read some of your process here

1. how many works do you have on ao3? 24

2. what’s your total ao3 word count? 195,338, and i’m pretty sure half of that came from in flammam flammas alone

3. what fandoms do you write for? currently atla but i’ve dabbled in merlin, ancient history rpf (lmfao), and danmei before

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

nip it in the bud (what can i say, zukos nips are obviously enrapturing!)

lan eye for the bland guy (a testament to the people power of the mdzs fandom)

in flammam flammas (always felt like she should get more love! proportional to the sheer bloody labour i put into her 🙈😆)

deep and creamy (doesn’t deserve it. galactic repairman is way better, i wrote this as a shitty lil voice test fic for zuko pov!!)

the iconoclast (neck to neck with deep and creamy actually, will defs surpass in the next couple of days)

5. do you respond to comments? i make an effort to respond to each of them to show my appreciation. the only time i dropped off was when i wasn’t actively writing and ppl were commenting on stuff from the stone age 😭

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? definitely religio, in which i killed arthur. granted arthur dying is very much canon and literary convention unrelated but for that fic i asked my latin lecturer at the time about my translation of a passage that ended up in it lolol

7. what is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? in flammam flammas. it’s a triumphalist ending, it’s one zuko has absolutely fought for, and now he gets to reap all his rewards. the joy of overcoming adversity to become a stronger, better person, a force for good in the world

8. do you get hate on fics? thankfully not! besides the occasional leery/perhaps poorly phrased comment. but i cut those some slack

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind? yes i love writing smut [40,000 words of plot later—]

10. do you write crossovers? what’s the craziest one you’ve written? noooo idt i have actually…

11. have you ever had a fic stolen? nip it in the bud was plagiarised once actually. plotline down to the story beats and the actual phrasing. it was pretty brazen and it was upsetting to discover

12. have you ever had a fic translated? nope!

13. have you ever co-written a fic before? i allegedly co-wrote a fic with my ex once… i don’t recall much of the process though so i suspect she actually wrote most of it and i maybe edited/chimed ideas/drew art? otherwise the closest i’ve gotten is collaborating with reikah, which i’ve really loved. i think it’s the ex-grad student in me that loves bouncing ideas with someone else, getting a second opinion, getting pushback. i come up to reikah with all these ideas (usually chunks of prose bc writing is my planning) and i’ll say some shit like “i want chapter 2 of nipfic to be structured in a chiasmus!” and she’s amazing at for instance going in to figure out HOW to practically (re)structure all of that. just like. concrete ways to bring the lofty vision into fruition 🫶

14. what’s your all-time favourite ship? noooo i can’t sayyyyy cos what if it changes?! but i do really love writing zukka atm for their ethnic4ethnic energy. i love writing characters of colour and delving into ideas about empire and colonialism and they’ve been the perfect vehicle for that

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? well there’s one that i abandoned for uh. political reasons 🤡 i was writing an au based on an event extremely close to my heart and i poured a lot of love into it. but the situation irl took a pretty bad turn and while i wondered at first if i could post anon, i became worried about being harassed or doxxed over it

16. what are your writing strengths? i think im good at writing on a technical level. i used to write poetry and it was a fantastic exercise in wrangling words as an art form. so many lessons carried over into my prose. there’s a sonic element to mine that is i think quite distinctive. plus i can be critical of my own writing and im receptive to feedback

17. what are your writing weaknesses? structure can be a little tricky if there are a lot of moving parts. REALLY grateful to everyone who’s beta read to give a second opinion about those elements. and the bit i hated writing the most in iconoclast was the freakin chapter 2 sports montage. i am not a sporty person

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? ehh. what’s the point? it’s all well and good if there’s a point to it, which isn’t just “look, i the author can speak other languages”. untranslated, i just think a whole bunch of dialogue in another language can have the effect of alienating a reader see donna tartt’s goldfinch

19. first fandom you wrote for? merlin i lied. it’s hetalia genfic i wrote when i was thirteen years old on fanfiction dot net

20. favourite fic you’ve written? recency bias maybe but i’m becoming VERY fond of the iconoclast. it’s definitely not a fic i thought would take off (zukki is a smaller ship! and the story is balls to the wall bonkers in a way that im sure isn’t up some ppls alley!) but i uncovered so many fascinating ideas and concepts while researching i felt like i HAD to try do them justice. i challenged myself writing more violent fight scenes & more ruthless/complex characters. i wrote the fucking haiku 🤡 and the plot is a bit of a beast. but i can sense it coming together and im writing the insane fic i wanna read!

gonna tag: @faux-fires, @dickpuncher420, @adriancatrin knock urselves out! 🥳🥳🥳

#responses

[thankskenpenders]

Today’s new Frontiers article from IGN is the one I’d most been hoping for - an interview with Ian that clears up his role working on this game

As I’ve said many times before, the job of “writer” can mean many different things in the world of video games. Sometimes they’re creatively responsible at a high level, but other times they’re just charged with filling in the dialogue for an adventure that already exists. Even in recent years on the Sonic series, Pontac and Graff have had more involvement in some stories than others, despite being credited as the writers for all of them. So the big question was always how much input Ian would have on Frontiers. Well, now we have an answer:

“With the other tie-in media, I’m the one to pitch the story, the characters, the themes, etc. With Sonic Frontiers, SEGA provided the story, backstory, plot beats, usable characters, and so on. So it was a very different approach to telling a Sonic story than what I’m used to.

“All that aside, it was a dream come true to work on a major Sonic titles like this, and an incredible learning experience. I hope everyone enjoys what I was able to bring to the table.”

This has me slightly disappointed on some level, as I really would like to see what Ian could do when given the reigns, but I get it. Video games have a ton of moving parts, and they need to budget out things like level art and character models ahead of time. You can’t always just let the writer come in and say they want to add more characters or plot beats, because that means more work for everyone else. And in a series like Sonic, the gameplay is going to come first, with a story conceived to fit the desired mechanics

That being said, other things in this interview do have me excited:

“Sonic, Tails and Amy embark for the Starfall Islands to investigate the disappearance of the Chaos Emeralds. Things take a turn for the dramatic immediately, and Sonic is left alone with a lot of questions. The story is his journey to uncover all the mysteries of the islands, rescue his friends, and discover how everything ties together.”

"’Melancholy’ is a good word for the story overall. Sonic’s indomitable spirit carries him throughout the adventure, and it’s what allows him to help each of his friends as they tackle their own personal challenges. Someone else you encounter will have their very identity shaped by their interactions with Sonic, which isn’t always a comfortable process. Then there’s the secrets of the Starfall Islands themselves and how the tragedies of the past have led to the adventure today. Sonic’s ‘never say die’ attitude is certainly put to the test.”

“For new players, I hope they enjoy their time with Sonic, get to know his friends, and are satisfied with the journey to uncover all the mysteries of the game. For veteran players, I hope they enjoy the individual character arcs and the threads I tried to weave between Sonic Frontiers and the rest of the Sonic Series.”

While it might not be a plot Ian came up with, it sounds like he may very well be the right man for the job with this one. We’ve known for a bit that the story would be more serious than what we got in the 2010s, with Ian comparing it to the games of the ‘00s and the IDW comics on the BumbleKast, but I’m very excited for Sonic Team to try telling a story like this again, and for Ian to be the one steering the characterization and writing the dialogue. (I do wonder if they decided to reach out to Ian specifically because of the tone shift.) He just gets the characters, being able to do both hard-hitting character drama and genuinely funny comedy with them, and it sounds like he has decent leeway on that front

(He also makes it sound like he had some involvement in figuring out the pacing of the story as development progressed, so it definitely doesn’t sound like he was just hired to translate an existing Japanese script. He has input, even if most of the big picture was decided on by other people.)

Like, I’d love to see Ian conceive a whole Sonic game story from scratch. But one of my favorite things he’s ever done, Archie Mega Man, is largely just Ian fleshing out the character work in a storyline that already existed. And that’s my favorite take on the Mega Man story! We’re not at the finish line yet with Frontiers, but Ian’s involvement here and the type of story they’re telling - one that seems to skew much more sincere than cynical - has me excited for the possibilities. Between this and the many hands-on previews saying the game is genuinely fun when it’s in your hands, I’d say I’m officially allowing myself to be excited for this

[sketching-shark]

Bangs head on my desk. Its sooooo fucking hard I have literally most of the LMK fandom blocked and I still can’t fucking escape that mid ass pairing I want to explode. Honest to god it sucks because I actually like analyzing LEMH and Sun wukong’s dynamic when it comes to the original story and like the idea of a character trying so hard to be this other person they just fundamentally erase any aspect of who they could be. That shit is interesting (especially if you interpret the two as actual family bc there’s a level of. Tragedy there) but NOOO mfs wanna focus on shipping clones/siblings together instead and painfully writing both characters ooc instead of just making an oc good fucking god. ( that being said I really like the art you draw of LEMH. It’s really cool. Keep up the good work 👍🏾👍🏾👍🏾)

fregarewargtfds I once saw someone describe the LEMH & SWK ship as jttw retellings's reylo and. hm. yeah.

BUT YEAH YEAH YEAH to this day one of the things I find most baffling about the western monkie kid & jttw fandom is this widespread refusal to even recognize LEMH's actions in the og classic. Because it's like: here we have what could very well be one of literature's first instances of the "evil twin" trope and it's being done SPECIFICALLY in a way to create the maximum amount of conflict and uncertainty for SWK!

Because on one hand the false monkey of the true and false monkey king arc is essentially the very embodiment of everything that SWK ever wanted; LEMH, in copying SWK so completely, does it in such a way where he gets to be both a yaoguai warlord with a loving family AND a holy pilgrim bound for glory at the exact same time, whereas SWK is constantly being forced to choose between the two! But LEMH's also doing it in the worst way possible! He beats Tang Sanzang into unconsciousness, steals their stuff for his own use, and in so doing drives a serious rift between SWK and the pilgrims!

He clearly doesn't give af about the Mt. Huaguoshan monkeys outside of how they can serve as his personal tools to fulfill his own aims! He just wants them to use their own powers of transformation so that they can serve as his own obedient group of pilgrims! He even eats one of them as part of a merry feast he throws for himself after a violent encounter with Sha Wujing, and immediately has that monkey replaced with another! And he's doing ALL of this wearing SWK's face and adapting SWK's mannerisms! EVERYONE thinks that it's SWK doing these things! It's like LEMH's very existence is throwing it in SWK's face how this horrible version of himself is closer to achieving ALL of SWK's desires than SWK ever was, and that no matter how much SWK tries to change for the better even the two sides of his beloved family automatically think even this version which would inflict such violence on them is the "true" him! No wonder SWK hated him so much!

And AUGH the possibility of LEMH either being a manifestation of SWK's worst impulses or of being his brother just ramps the tragedy and horror of this situation even more! Like if it was part of SWK inflicting all this pain on the people SWK loves most, well there is truly something messed up about this situation where even if it's not technically "you" going along with your worst impulses they will still hurt people! Could you ever trust yourself again? Should you? How much of the blame for this situation lies with you? And can it be enough to fully acknowledge you have violent impulses but don't act on them?

And yes @the-bitter-ocean even in interpretations where LEMH is some random yaoguai who decides to commit identity fraud the story from his point of view of him throwing away his identity so completely that there's basically nothing left of him is just...goddamn. In his ambition he literally reduced himself to one part of SWK's story, just one more obstacle for the Monkey King to overcome.

And SCREAM if LEMH was SWK's brother? Imagine this situation where for SWK he's confronted by what is essentially the culmination of his failures to protect his family, where his beloved brother (I'm saying beloved because SWK loved all members of his monkey family very much) ended up despising SWK so much that he has essentially destroyed everything that he was or could have been in his bid to be the "real" monkey king and bring glory back to that name, but does so in the worst way possible to the point where SWK feels he has to take down LEMH himself. And then for LEMH, you can see how love and admiration for his brother would be twisted into resentment, envy, obsession, and hatred due to the series of atrocities the Mt. Huaguoshan simians faced in large part as a consequence of SWK's challenge to the heavens and his own sense of entitlement, so that eventually he convinced himself he would be a more "true" monkey king than the monkey king himself, and thus completely discarded his own identity to take on that of his brother, and in doing so basically tossed his own morals given how his "version" of the monkey king cares for no one but himself.

Sorry for the rant! But all the pieces for a whole series of interesting tragedies are! Already! Right! There!!!!! Why are we all so hellbent on ignoring/rewriting them!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

#ask answered #xiyouji #jttw #journey to the west #monkie kid #sun wukong #six eared macaque #btw does anyone know when/if those animations about SWK & LEMH that came out a few years ago will ever appear in the west?