The Art Market You’ve Never Heard Of (But Might Already Be In)
What if I told you that there was a secret, booming art economy occurring right under the noses of art tycoons and industry behemoths? Something cutting-edge, born with the internet, decentralized, unmonopolized, complex yet so simple? If you have been an observer of the art side of the internet for a while, particularly the “original-character-do-not-steal-digital-art” side in particular, you may be familiar with the phenomenon of “adopts”. In other words, adopts are original character designs created by artists and sold as one-off digital assets, usually granting the buyer limited usage rights, such as the ability to name, roleplay, draw, or otherwise "own" the character in a personal or community sense, all while the artist typically retains copyright over the actual artwork.
To the uninitiated, it might sound absurd—paying real money for a fictional character? I can already hear you saying. Well to creatives, it’s pretty serious. You see, the Adopt market is incredibly niche, the average joe would not see any use in purchasing such a non-tangible item, but to creatives, this is a gold mine. Adopts aren’t useful in the utilitarian sense. But they hit that same emotional core as collecting Pokémon cards, owning a rare Beanie Baby, or curating an aesthetic persona. People want to belong to something, and characters are vessels for identity, fantasy, and self-expression. Fans aren’t just buying a design, they’re buying into an artist’s world. If the artist has a distinctive style or compelling lore, their adopts feel like collectible pieces of that universe. It turns customers into patrons, or even superfans. This type of market is so unusual because it doesn’t fit neatly into traditional categories of commerce, and it’s effective because it taps into deep emotional impulses: the urge to collect, to express oneself, to support artists directly, and to participate in a shared creative ecosystem.
Maybe you’re still struggling to understand, let me create a scenario for you. Let’s say you visit an art market. You see a beautiful painting, maybe it reminds you of something or someone you love. You purchase the painting, exchange a few smiles to the artist, and off you go. You hang up this beautiful painting somewhere you can see it, every day you look at it, and it brings you a feeling of wonder, peace, or joy. Typically, this is where the life of the artwork stays, as an ornament.
Now imagine you visit an art market, you stroll through the plethora of artists and craftsmen, at the end of the hall is a strange looking booth that draws your attention. You approach the display, littered everywhere are drawings, each one unique. There are characters everywhere, some cute, some scary, some furry, some slithery. Then you see her, an adorable little pink dragon, she is one of a kind and something about her just speaks to you. You’ve never been fantastic at character design, but you are creative at heart. You can already imagine naming her, what world she lives in, her story. You swipe up the drawing, eager to buy it. To your surprise and delight, the artist says that not only is the art work for sale, but so is the little pink dragon. You exchange smiles, head home, and hang her up somewhere you can see her. However this is not where her story ends. You immediately sit down and start writing about this little pink dragon. You give her a voice, desires, flaws, and you start to have some serious fun. You show her to your friends, maybe your friend has a little dragon character of their own she can be friends with. When you purchased this little pink dragon, you didn’t just get a work of art, you got a hobby, you got something to feel excited about. You start posting this work of yours online and are even starting to make friends, all invested in your little pink dragon’s world. Now you’re starting to wonder who you can pay to draw her again, this time in the world of your own design.
As you can see, the Adopt market is an incredibly specific, self-feeding economy. Thousands flock to social media or even dedicated websites such as toyhou.se to trade, buy, and sell their designs. Some will hoard hundreds, eagerly watching their artist’s bulletins for new drops. Neatly arranging them in decorated folders like lovingly tending to a collection of porcelain figurines. This economy lives and breathes off of individual artists having complete creative control, something virtually unheard of at an industry-wide scale. Adopts are raw. No client. No direction. You decide what’s cool, what’s iconic, what sells.
In traditional creative industries (games, animation, publishing), characters belong to companies. Artists are hired to generate IP (Intellectual Property) for someone else to monetize. They most often have very little creative control over the outcome of these designs, and must diligently implement critique from design leads or even investors. But in the Adopt scene: Individual artists invent, package, and sell micro-IP, Ownership is often symbolic or communal, not legalistic. Entire ecosystems form around fan-created worlds, lores, and identities with no corporate oversight. Some artists even build full-fledged worlds around their designs: closed species, custom rules, breeding charts, a whole ecology of micro-IP. Adopts allow artists to make money without doing custom work, revisions, or appeasing someone else’s tastes. You make what you want. If people love it, it sells. This is anti-freelance. Anti-studio. Anti-burnout. For this reason, the Adopt market is radical, freeing, and ungoverned.
You’d think that in an age where AI generated images are becoming harder and harder to discern from real art, this community would be at real peril. However this is far from the truth. As expected, the market has been flooded by AI generated “adopts”, but these vendors are missing two critical components of what it takes to sell character designs, reputation and connection. Adopt buyers know what art is, they have favorite artists who they follow for years, they care about connecting both to the producer and the product. In a much broader market, sure AI grifters can make quite a sum selling AI generated prints to ignorant buyers on etsy, but the Adopt market is too niche, too small, and too knowledgeable to fall for this. Real artists continue to stay on top, while prompters feed on scraps.
The adopt market isn’t just a niche, it’s a new model for how art, ownership, and identity can thrive online. It’s personal, decentralized, and artist-driven. And in an era of mass automation and creative burnout, that’s nothing short of revolutionary. So next time you see a pink dragon for sale, don’t laugh. That little creature might just be someone’s next great adventure. Maybe even yours.
Gracie, babes, can I request Eddie and reader as cat parents?
I just love the idea of our man being a cat dad
Warnings: The reader is referred to as momma in this and this is not proofed read so I apologies for an errors (Also most of the things Eddie does for the cat my dad does for mine 🤭)
You guys rescued a small black kitten one date night
You were heading to bed after watching a horror movie Eddie picked out when he stopped all movement. "Eddie? What's wr-" He cuts you off by shushing you. He listens closer. "Do you hear that?" He asked in a soft whisper before walking to the window. You start to listen, trying to hear what he is talking about. A faint, nearly pathetic meow echos through the room from the newly opened window. Eddie opens it even further before jumping out of it to try and find the source of the sound. "BABE!" You rush to the window to see him sitting on the ground searching. "What. The. Fuck Dude!!?! You could've gotten hurt!" He rolls his eyes at your worry. "Sweetheart, I have climbed and jumped out of many windows thanks to you, actually, I'll be just fine." He lays on his belly and that's when he finds it. "Holy shit" He whispers to himself. If the cat didn't have such bright eyes Eddie would've missed it all together. "Hi, little man" Eddie coos as he sits his hand on the ground, slowly itching it closer to the cat. The cat seemed to be drawn to Eddie and the rest is history.
Eddie spoils the shit out of the cat. Daily brushing is a must and so is at least three cans of wet food. Whenever you give the cat dry food they both whine. "Baaaaaabeee!! You know he likes wet food way more! Why are you trying to starve the baby!?!!"
Every holiday when there are new themed toys out Eddie will get as many as possible for his baby...even though everyone who has met that cat knows that they prefer a new cardboard shoe box or one of your guy's hair ties
Eddie is a Freddy freakout when it comes to this cat. Full momma bear mode for sure! The cat scratches his eye on accident!?!?! The cat had gotten outside on accident!??!! Eddie will just sob and nearly have a heart attack
Every time Eddie brushes the cat out he says the affirmations of the day. "You're such a handsome man, yes you are! Such a pretty boy." And he makes a point of showing the cat off to you after every session. "Let's go show your momma her handsome little man"
The best part of all of this!!!!!
Even though Eddie goes through all of this trouble. Spends so much money and time with the cat, hell he rescued the damn thing!.... You get the cuddles and kisses.
"What the fuck!?" Eddie exclaims every time he sees the cat in your lap or on your chest, "He never loves on me like that! 🥺I don't even get kisses just purrs" He whines
The best day of Eddie's life WAS the day he met you....but it's now the day the cat sits on his lap for the first time.
Let's say for fun that Eddie Munson isn't just gay or just straight. If he's not one of them, I believe he'd be pansexual. Yes, bi exists, but I feel like it isn't Eddie. I can just imagine young Eddie not knowing that people don't just fall in love with everyone who's kind to them. He tells his dad how much he wants to marry the neighbor's son, and that's when he has a wake-up call.
He learns that everyone, in fact, does not, not care about what is in someone's pants. And when he moves in with Wayne, he tries to ignore that part of himself that likes boys.
But throughout school, Eddie learns he has a type. Pretty jocks who have hearts of gold. Chrissy Cunningham, who was head cheerleader and played volleyball. But she was soft and sweet. She was kind to Eddie, and Eddie fell for her.
The man he fell for, though, he was a harder read. At first, he couldn't stand him. The boy was always looking a million miles away, like he was better than everyone else. But then... then Eddie had seen him at the store, talking with Joyce Byers. He had been kind to her, and when he noticed the young Will Byers, he hadn't been prickly. No, Steve Harrington had oohed and ahhed over one of his drawings.
And well, Eddie knew that in school, Steve and his friends didn't deal with Jonathan. Jonathan was a year younger, and Steve hadn't given him a second glance. But he had been kind to these two like it was God-given right.
When Joyce had asked Steve about his parents, well, Steve hadn't gotten bitch, just awkward. He explained they had a big trip so Steve just took the bus. 15 years old and already being independent. After that, the distant looks, bored stares... well they didn't look so bored, so high and mighty. They just looked lonely.
Eddie had been instantly hooked on watching him. And when you watched, you saw the heart of gold leak through. So throughout school, Eddie nursed his two crushes, and when Chrissy asked him for drugs, he couldn't say no. Not even when he didn't want to see her mess up her life. He brought her back to the trailer and experienced one of the worst nights of his life. Just when he thought that maybe there was a chance he'd at least become friends with her.
He didn't think that watching her die would bring him Steve, though. And with his shitty week, he couldn't even tell himself to hold back. He flirted, got in his face, and called him pet names. Whatever he could think of, he did. He didn't think of any backlash when it felt like he'd be thrown in jail or killed by freaky supernatural shit.
Eddie fell even further, getting to watch Steve rip a bat apart. It was so fucking Ozzy. And then, as Eddie had laid in Dustin's arms, never expecting to get up again, Steve was there. Like a goddamm angel. He told the man as much.
Sure, he wouldn't remember when he woke up. But that was later Eddie's problem. Not that it was a problem. No, because when Eddie wakes up, Steve will be there, and he'll tell Eddie that it's okay to pick the hard choice. To love the option that would make it so much harder when the person you love is right next to you.
Yes, Eddie Munson might not have been gay or straight. He might have loved Chrissy or not. But he did fall for Steve and well... Steve, I imagine that Steve will find himself learning to love someone new in Eddie. That Nancy didn't have to be he only option. That he could be happy with Eddie.
That when Eddie was better and Vecna was dead, they could start a life together. One where the kids were still a big part of it, and Robin was their roommate. One where love wasn't easy, but it was worth it.
Distance made the heart unwell, not fond, you decided in the humid greenhouse, eyes glued to Remus Lupin. He was fiddling with some rusted shears, seemingly looking at everything but you. A sharp jolt in your chest followed the observation and seemed to prove your previous theory. With a deep sigh, you shifted your focus to what was around you.
The light filtering through the glass building was dusty, students kicking up dirt and fertilizer into the air as they mucked about. Leaves draped themselves around anything they could get a hold of, winding firm against the legs on your tables and spilling from the open window panes. Some days you felt as if you’d arrive to Herbology only to find the entire building taken over completely. Wrinkling your nose to hold back a sneeze. you didn’t realize that you were being addressed until there was a sharp poke to your shoulder.
“Day dreaming again, Y/N?” your dormmate asked you with a playful quirk of her lips. You simply shrugged with a matching impish smile, sending her a quick wink as the professor called for quiet.
You and your friend went back and forth for a few more seconds, swatting each others legs and pinching each other’s arms before you settled down to pay attention. However, you couldn’t keep your mind from wandering as Professor Beery droned on. His voice was loud, uproariously so, yet melodic enough that it took on a buzzing quality in your ears, falling into background noise with the rest of the classroom.
The vibrancy of the plants, robes, and sunlight all seemed to melt away as you tied yourself to a drifting thought and let it pull you down the rushing river of your mind. In the chaos of the white tipped waves, carrying anything from your daily musings to your deepest secrets, you wished you could claim that you were aimlessly dreaming as your friend had suggested. That this thought that you were clinging to with each ounce of strength wasn’t on the same path that you had taken so many times before.
You followed as far as you could, grasping at low hanging branches that might contain the answers but they always snapped, being pulled so deep beneath the raging waters that you never hoped to see them again. In no time at all, you wound up where you always did; in front of a towering brick wall, a dam that you had constructed to keep yourself safe, but was now a barricade you couldn’t force yourself through.
Unable to find the answers you needed, the thought you’d immersed yourself in began to drag you under, sounding out louder and louder in your head until it was all you could think of.
What was wrong with Remus Lupin?
--
You were made aware that class was at it’s end when a culmination of your peer’s voices, the sound of shuffled feet and plans for lunch poking at your bubble until it popped. You were on your way out with your friend, eyes searching the crowd for a familiar mop of sandy curls. You had made up your mind that he could try to avoid you, but you could try just as hard to make him talk to you.
Throwing a farewell over your shoulder to your friend, you quickly made your way out of the greenhouse. Remus had just barely left himself, dust still floating in the doorway after being brushed up by the hem of his robes. With some quick maneuvering around your classmates, you finally were within arm’s reach. You guessed that if he’d seen you following, he would have run off before you could catch up.
Snagging Remus’ sleeve before he could get further, you tugged back on his arm until he stalled in the hallway. He was slow to face you but when he did his expression was screwed up tightly, and his eyes shifted around.
There were lilac bruises under his eyes, as if he was sleeping enough to get by but not near enough to look refreshed. A thin scratch burned bright against his skin, following the length of his jaw and it’s twin bridging over his nose.
You weren’t startled by the appearance, it wasn’t odd to see Remus with an assortment of scrapes and bruises, his transformations never going easy on him. However, the grim set of his jaw and his forlorn eyes tugged at something deep in your gut and you were becoming endlessly worried about your friend.
“Something you want?” Remus prompted and you couldn’t help but frown at how ragged his voice sounded.
“Maybe for a chance to talk without you running away?” You bit out sharply. He had the decency to look remorseful.
“We’re talking right now,” he shrugged, toeing at the ground while the halls cleared out. The only company you had now were students rushing past so that they weren’t late to class. You had larger worries than making it to potions on time.
“It’s been two weeks since we’ve spent any time together Rem. I can’t even get a hold of James or Sirius long enough to ask them if you’re okay.” You tried again, voice smoothed of all its jagged edges. You couldn’t help but grip his sleeve a bit tighter, he looked like a caged animal and you feared he would run if you let go.
With your free hand you reached out, palm laid gently against his cheek as you tried to catch his eye. “You haven’t been yourself and I’m worried,”
“I’ve been just fine, thanks,” He muttered, jerking away from your touch. “Never asked you to worry about me anyways,”
You felt as if the breath had been punched from your lungs.
Remus had his shoulders up by his ears, everything about him screaming uncomfortable. Had this closing off been more gradual than you believed? Were there things you hadn’t noticed before now that would have stopped him from pulling away?
“We’re friends, you never had to ask me to worry. I just want to help,” You urged, voice growing thick with emotion. “I miss you,”
Remus’ shoulders drooped a bit at your confession but he still refused to meet your eyes. It felt like a stone wall had been dropped between you two and you couldn’t find the entrance. Your heart was constricting painfully, the desire to help him and the knowledge that he wasn’t letting you clashing within your chest.
The silence of the corridor and Remus combined chilled you to the bone and so you reached out and wrapped your arms around his waist, hoping that he would stop acting like everything was fine.
Instead, you were met with strong hands gripping your shoulders and bringing you back to arm’s length away.
“What did I do wrong?” You blurted out, desperately trying to get answers. “What terrible thing did I do that made it so you can’t even look at me? Let alone speak to me,”
Remus was one of your closest friends, but seemingly out of nowhere he had stopped showing up for tutoring sessions and had stopped coming to your dorm on Thursdays after dinner to simply talk and let time pass comfortably. You told him everything and he told you everything.
He’d told you about when he’d been attacked by a werewolf as a child and you’d told him about your insecurities and fears. You’d promised him then that you would never see him as a monster and he’d promised he’d never abandon you. There was nothing left unsaid between you. If there was ever a problem, you were confident that neither of you would be foolish enough to let it fester.
There had been no argument that could explain this sudden upheaval to your regularly stable friendship. All signs pointed to you having done something wrong and it left you nauseous and sorry for something you knew nothing about. Frustrated tears burned at the edge of your eyelids but you refused to let them fall.
“Do you even remember what happened two weeks ago?” The urgency of Remus’ voice shocked you back into the present, and this time when you looked up, his eyes were following your own. He looked pained.
“Uhhh...Want to be more specific?”
With a humorless chuckle, Remus brought his hands up to tug at his hair. He looked halfway to laughter and halfway to tears. “Merlin, Y/N, how hard did you hit your head?”
“It was just a bump-”
“Oh so now you remember that little tidbit of information,”
“Why are you being such a jerk?” You asked with eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry I got in the way last time-”
With a groan, Remus grabbed your hand and tugged you from the middle of the corridor you two had been stationed for nearly half an hour, bickering. His only explanation being, “Let’s finish this elsewhere,”
Three minutes later, Remus was tugging you into the gryffindor common room before tugging you one final stretch to his dorm. Shutting the door resolutely, Remus spun on his heel, misery marring his face as he looked you up and down.
“What world are you living in Y/N, where you could ever get in the way of a fucking mindless werewolf?”
For a few minutes you stared, as the pieces finally put themselves together in your mind. And then, you were pushing at Remus’ chest with anger and incredulity.
“You are absolutely unbelievable! Are you tell me that you have been avoiding me, making me feel like shit, because of an accident? A simple fucking mistake? You are so blinded by your self hatred that you didn’t realize that I haven’t even been thinking about what happened during the last full moon,”
Remus had caught your writsts by now, despite the continuation of your verbal assault. His eyes were harsh and his grip unforgiving but you couldn’t believe he’d treated you like you were invisible because of an injury he hadn’t even been responsible for, or at least aware of at the time.
“I hurt you!” Remus said as if you two hadn’t had this conversation about the other boys hundreds of times before. Every time he harmed any of the people he cared about while he was a werewolf, he dissolved into a vicious cycle of self loathing but he had never abandoned those people because of it. Eventually he saw that he wasn’t in control all the time even if the wolfsbane helped.
“I got a bruise on my back for a couple days and a grazed forehead that Madam Pomfrey took care of in five minutes, how in the world does that justify you breaking my heart for weeks? You know me Remus! You know how I feel when people just vanish like that... and you promised you wouldn’t be one of them.”
The fight was quickly leaving you, even when you ripped your hands away from Remus. He was left standing by the door as you leaned against his bed, slumping down to the floor so you could bury your head in your knees.
“I hadn’t even thought of what had happened, because I didn’t hold it against you for a second. But I’ve been driving myself crazy because I thought I’d done something terrible to you and you hated me for it.” You choked out.
You heard a heavy sigh and then warmth all along your left side. Remus was now seated beside you, shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip.
“I’d rather break your heart than hurt you,” He muttered and you let out a strangled groan.
“You do know how stupid that sounds, right? Getting thrown into a tree hurt way less than you ignoring me,”
Remus tensed up and you let out a steadying breath before turning to face him. It looked like the fury had left him too but now he was left looking like a kicked puppy and you were certain you looked the same.
You poked and prodded at him until his legs were out in front of him and you could comfortably situate yourself in his lap. Taking his cheeks in your hands you sent him a glare that held no heat.
“Promise me that this is the last time that we’ll have this conversation.”
“I can’t,” Remus whined, trying to tilt his head back to avoid your stare but you held him in place. Eventually he gave up and set his hands on your hips to steady himself even as he pouted. “Im not going to keep risking you,”
“I signed up for it, just like the other boys, and you wouldn’t ever do this to them,”
“You’re not them,” It was whispered on an exhale, barely there, but you heard it all the same. You were waiting for the offense to fill you up and reignite the fire of your anger but his voice had been cracked, nervous, different.
“Do you know the lengths that I’d go for you,” You asked instead of picking a fight, thumbs brushing feather light against his cheekbones. “That I’d do anything to make sure you’re okay?”
“I do, and that’s why I need you to hate me,”
Looking at him now, with his doe eyes framed by long lashes and a frown that had melted into a pout, you were liable to forget that he was the biggest idiot you had ever met.
“What world are you living in Remus, where you could ever be hated by me?” You mocked his previous words, yet it still rang true. No matter what, your heart would be his and there couldn’t be a single thing that could sour or change that.
“A world where you’re safe,” He whispered as he tangled his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck, the air shifting and making the bubble you two were in seem much more private. Like raising your voice above that low whisper would pop it and break this spell.
“With or without you Remus, none of us are safe right now, not with news of death eaters and the Dark Lord popping up in the Daily Prophet every other day. Why spend our last year of school miserable and missing one another? Why miss out on memories and things to fight for once we’re out of here? I trust you and you’re the last thing I’d ever be frightened of,”
At some point, Remus had tilted your head forward, your noses brushing as you spoke. You could feel your heart fighting it’s way through your chest and you hoped he couldn’t hear it.
“Can we please stop fighting over this? I meant it when I said I missed you,”
“I know,” Remus breathed out. “I’m sorry, I just can’t help but think one day I’ll do something that can’t be fixed with spell or tonic. It seemed better to hurt you emotionally and push you away than wait for something permanent to take you away from me. I’d rather see you happy far away from me than hurting beside me and because of me,”
Tired of trying to explain how the last place you wanted to be was far away from him, you guided Remus the last inch between you and placed your lips against his. You’d been worrying at yours for weeks and you were certain they were chapped but the moment Remus clued into the pressure he pulled you in tighter against him, sitting up a bit further so that he could deepen the kiss.
There weren’t fireworks or explosions, just a steady and familiar warmth filling you from head to toe. Before the past few weeks you and Remus had been flirting playfully and pushing boundaries just to see who would break first and finally cross the line between friends and more and now you were finally taking the plunge.
The kiss was steady and slow, an even give and take that didn’t demand more. An exchange of words said and unsaid.
You were the first to pull away and your chest filled with giddy bubbles when you saw Remus tilt forward in the hopes to capture your lips again.
“You never said we were done with this silly fight,” You pointed out and Remus groaned, squeezing your hips in fond exasperation.
“It might be something we talk about later, but for now, I promise that I wont pull a stunt like this again,”
It wasn’t perfect, you knew his worry for you wouldn’t vanish and that you would be immovable when it came to being by his side but for now you let out a satisfied hum and followed his lead into another kiss; letting all of the worries and fears melt away.
Basically: Light Spinner becomes Shadow Weaver through the use of the Obtainment spell but she doesn’t eat ppl and she certainly didn’t defect to the Horde. Instead, she used her new found aesthetic (and powers, i guess) to blend in as a double agent for Mystacor.
The beginning:
In preparation for her coronation, as she ascended to the ultimate title of Supreme Sorceress, she would learn of Mystacor’s best kept secrets. Supreme Sorcerer Norwyn, current ruler of Mystacor, lead his successor to a vault, hidden in the courtyard of the Academy. Castaspella was ecstatic, of course, however, she was worried about one thing.
“Shouldn’t we be patrolling the borders? This is the last night before the new moon cycle - the shields are at their weakest!”
“Worry not, Castaspella, there are other guild members paroling tonight.”
“But we’re the strongest ones!”
“And Mystacor will be fine. Besides, tonight is the only night I can introduce you to Mystacor’s final and deadliest weapon.”
“Weapon? But you said yourself that Mystacor was fine behind the shields - that we didn’t need to fight! You’ll waste the talents of the great wizards in this city yet you go against your own words and build a weapon?”
Norwyn sighed and drew a casting circle into the grass, “If it makes you feel any better, its not a weapon. In fact, the weapon is a she and she has a name for herself. Stand back, now.”
The grass faded to reveal a large, metal door that heaved itself upwards. Beneath the door lay a long set of stairs. Norwyn descended without another word. Casta followed him into the darkness. The door fell back into place silently and Norwyn lit a light spell to guide them down the rest of the way.
One long corridor and several doors later, they entered an underground chamber. The shadows swallowed the feeble light spell in Norwyn’s hand, draping the sorcerers in darkness. Several instruments, unseen, played a gentle ambiance into the room. From their acoustics, the chambers sounded to have high ceilings and widespread walls. This weapon lady clearly had status if her rooms were so big.
“We don’t have much time.” Norwyn barked into the darkness, “Turn on the lights.”
“You brought me a friend, Norwyn?” A deep, smokey voice answered. She spoke from right in front of Casta and the young sorceress barely contained a yelp at the sound of it. Her eyes strained themselves as they searched for even the tiniest pinprick of detail.
“No. This is Castaspella. Effect as of the next moon cycle, she will be the Supreme Sorceress of Mystacor.”
“Castaspella... as in sister to Micah? Now you have my attention.”
Lanterns illuminated themselves around the circumference of the room. Casta had to squint against their brightness after staring so wide into the darkness. The lady stood a respectable distance away, too far for her voice to have sounded so close. She wore asymmetrical red robes that tattered at the hems. A large hood concealed the top half of her face. A beauty spot made a home near pretty lips that eloquently framed a pair of gleaming fangs.
“Castaspella, you are looking at Shadow Weaver, once known as Light Spinner, a great sorceress honored in the Academy’s halls.”
“Pleasure.” She said.
“But... she died! Everyone knows she did - how is she here?” Casta had heard the tale from Micah, who had been there. The Obtainment spell had been cast and the demons consumed her to death.
“Obviously, you were lied to.” Shadow Weaver said.
“We had witnesses complete a binding spell so that they would be sworn to secrecy about the event. Shadow Weaver works now as a double agent, doing dangerous work that none of us can. We fabricated her death to minimize her chances of getting compromised.”
“i see.” Casta put away her feelings of betrayal to be examined later.
“If we’re all finished here, I’d like to sleep while I still have the comfort of luxury. Hordak believes that the height of comfort is a thin mattress and canvass sheets.“
“Not quite, Agent. You must show Castaspella your face, so she knows how to identify you.”
Shadow Weaver sighed and pulled away the hood. An old scar ran across her forehead and through her left eye. The pupil never moved in its socket, unlike its partner leaving Casta to believe that it might be glass. She had her hair pinned in a low bun to the side of her head.
“If I can be honest for a moment - you look a lot more - hmm - distinguished than the legends say.” Casta said.
“Really?” The Agent feigned ignorance.
“Uh... yes.” Casta hesitated, sensing her mistake.
“They described you as a wretched beast, fit only to dwell in the deepest crevasses of this world. If there is a Hell, you’d surely find a home there.” Norwyn interjected for his pupil.
“Norwyn,” Casta protested, startled at his mannerism.
“Hush, Castaspella. She is indeed what the legends say. You must be firm with her, if you want to properly establish your dynamic as Supreme Sorceress. She is a being of pure, dark magics. Not even she can fully control herself.”
“But she doesn’t even bare the deamonscars!”
“My child, look at her. She is lying to you. Before she wove shadows, she spun illusions of light. She wares one now, as a mask. Show her, Shadow Weaver. Show her your second face - the real one.”
“I don’t see how that is necessary.” The agent replied coldly.
“Show her so she can identify you. Deamonscars are like fingerprints - unique to the individual. You are the only one who could look like you - not even a shape-shifter could copy your exact markings.”
Casta watched uncomfortable as the illusion fell away. Gnargled scars marred her face and intersected several times. Two large spots of scar tissue replaced the skin around her eyes and a chunk was missing from her upper lip. Her left eye moved, no longer glass. Before, she looked distinguished in her age. Now, she looked haggard and dangerous. She scowled at Norwyn and a dark power festered within her.
“Identify her, Castaspella. And do it properly this time.”
“Yes, Supreme Sorcerer Norwyn.” Casta affirmed quietly. She drew up a blank identification spell and projected it at the agent.
“How would you like to be identified?” Casta asked.
“Agent Shadow Weaver, faithful to the Sorcerer’s Guild of Mystacor.”
“You have been identified, agent Shadow Weaver, faithful to the Sorcerer’s Guild of Mystacor. Do you have any aliases?”
“Light Spinner, great one of the Sorcerer’s Guild.”
“Noted. Please imprint for our agent.”
The spell scanned a map of Shadow Weaver’s skin and placed it in Castaspella’s long term memory.
“Good. I’m sure you two will do just fine. Casta, with me. We should check on the shield patrols.” He turned and headed back out.
“I’m sorry.” Casta said, after he left.
Shadow Weaver’s laughter came out sharp and wrong, “Are you? What for?”
“For Norwyn’s impotency. Things will be different after the next moon cycle.”
“And what do you plan to do in such a short time?”
“Well,” She said with a grin, “to start we might get you some windows. I’m sure you’d love a nice view on your day off.”
Shadow Weaver finally smiled, “I might like that, yes.”
Hello @jadaninerowena! I’m replying in a new post just cuz I’m probably gonna ramble and it’s not gonna fit nicely in a reply (hence, the read more cut too), hope you understand. ^_^
Anyways, to your answer.... It’s time for OP to pretend they have watched Harry Potter recently and totally remember the Harry Potter universe...
Is Ikesen’s Nobunaga a Gryffindor or a Slytherin?
So obviously, one house can’t encapsulate all the traits of one person. It’s very clear that what you said is 100000% true, Nobunaga could easily be in Slytherin because of his ambition but it’s also true that Nobunaga has Gryffindor traits (Heck, he probs has a bit of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff too, the hell I know).
Now, here’s the rocky part, if I get anything below wrong, you have my permission to call me stupid and tell me I should re-read the books:
The traits of Gryffindor include (just gonna list a few tbh):
Bravery/courage
Curious
Playful
Passionate
Practical
Whilst traits of Slytherin include:
Perfectionist
Cunning
Ambitious (And makes life long friends because of these)
Resourceful
Adaptable
I think Nobunaga is definitely both. In story events where he isn’t the main, we always get to see his playful side where he’s telling the others to ‘take ya gal back to your manor and get some ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)’ or, in Hideyoshi’s route, stealing konpeito from the kitchen -_-. He’s definitely curious as he wants to travel (after he completes his ambition) and also admits that he wants to learn the vast knowledge there is in the world. I’d say he’s pretty passionate about his ambition and practical in how he uses his vassals as well (since he’s really big on efficacy).
On the other hand, in regards to his ambition, he is definitely very resourceful and guides his vassals to their utmost potential (esp Hideyoshi, I think :D). Nobunaga’s also very adaptable. I think this is definitely shown best when he makes temporary alliances with Kenshin and Shingen even though they hate him but it’s the best course of action on his road to unification.
Thus, Nobunaga, could definitely be in Slytherin or Gryffindor, I think it just depends on what time you catch him at: when he’s at a War Council or when he’s just bored.
So why did I put him in Gryffindor?
If you look at my head canons, the Nobunaga I portrayed was definitely more to the Gryffindor side (e.g. stealing from the kitchen, inventing new spells because he’s curious and sneaking out with Masamune at night).
I didn’t want to put him in Slytherin because then he’d be in the same house as Kenshin. And, god, poor Slytherin would always be losing house points with the trouble they stir ;-;
Also, since I put Hideyoshi in a different house, I ended up writing more head canons of Nobunaga just being a little devil and trolling everyone, uh, I mean, playful and curious because his HideMama ain’t around to rein him in ;)
Therefore, Nobunaga in Gryffindor was to show his childish side (since he would be younger than 18 anyways) even though the ambitious, resourceful side of him definitely points to Slytherin.
I don't think I was ready to return to work or just maybe not this job. I was hoping to ease back in but business has increased a little since I've been gone. It is still a disorganize mess, with messy consumers, more to do with less time to do it and same ol sales expectations. I really need to find new work. Lack of sleep does not help. I find myself having inner dialogues to have patience and not get upset over something small. And there is pumping. I've only been able to pump once while at work and haven't produced nearly as much as I did with Finn. Last night I got an ounce and nearly lost it. Pumping now while Veda naps to realize the batteries where dying. So hopefully I can produce more because I really don't think I'll get more than one session at work. We now also have to drop another $1000 into the car for it to be safe to drive. We are putting off the roof to look into a van just to have a second car in case the other craps out. We we're really hoping to put off a car payment until tax time. Just stress, stress, stress. The rational said of me knows it could be worse buts it's not being very loud right now.
CW: TMI? I think? Maybe not, nothing too bad, I hope, body stuff/hair
Shaved my arms for the first time in my life today, might not seem like it but that's a very big step for me. I'm very worried about how people around me will react, if they will react at all.
I know it's probably a small thing, maybe irrelevant, most girls do it, but being a thick dark hair™ girl this feels like a big change.
Do I like how they look? I guess, yeah, but I feel like the maintenance of it now is going to be a hassle. I mean, will it look really bad in the days in between shaving? I can't shave everyday, that's mental, but also at what speed does it grow?
I wish it never got this bad, the amount of body hairs I have to handle is truly so upsetting. As much as people can say that they don't care, it's always the soft and perfect skin girls that get friends and guys. I'm 21 for god's sake, a woman in theory, I shouldn't care about this stuff!
It all keeps bringing me back to when I was eleven and those "friends" of mine laughed at my leg hairs. I refused to wear shorts for like a month, it was summer mind you, 35°c out.
I never liked my body, it always felt and looked wrong, and I keep gaining weight, it's awful, and when I see bigger girls online I always think that yeah, they look good, because at least they don't have all this hair on their bodies.
But no, it's everywhere, and I got scars and discoloration from where I literally dig into my skin to get it out.
And it makes me so mad when I have to listen to someone complaining about the one chin hair they have, yeah well guess what? If I didn't pluck my whole upper lip every other day I'd have a full on mustache. I know it might be big for them, and everyone has their own experience, but if you want to complain about your almost bald arms do it to one another not me and my jungle.
Idk, it's a lot. I pretend I don't care, and I have gotten better at it with time, but honestly, this sucks, I think it's one of those insecurities that will never really leave me. It sucks even more that it's hormonal, so unless I start taking birth control there isn't really anything that can be done.
Also I have had such dry skin lately for some reason? And now it's even more visible, so we go from worse to bad.
I wish I didn't have skin or hairs or hair or anything at all, better yet, I wish I didn't exist, or at least I wish people never commented on it so I'd feel at least a little less insecure all the time.
